Nan

"What do you mean?" He asks. "These are my bags."

You deadpan. "Obviously I know that! I mean, who on Earth needs three bags for a weekend trip?"

"Listen," he begins. "I know this is a foreign concept to you, but like... some of us enjoy actually trying to look good."

"Say that again," you threaten, reaching down to take off your slipper.

"Some of us—"

The slipper is off your foot before he has the chance to finish.

"Joking!" He exclaims with a giggle, taking a few bounding steps away from your reach.

"Whatever," you mutter, grabbing your single bag from the back of the car.

"Are you mad at me?" Jeongin asks, trailing after you as you begin the long trek uphill.

"Y/NNNN..." He sings, keeping in step with you despite his huge bags.

"You're so annoying," you mutter. You can already feel the burn in your legs, and the heat beating down isn't doing anything to help.

"That's not very nice to say to someone who planned out this entire vacation just for you," Jeongin points out with a smirk.

"Whatever," you huff childishly.

Your arms are already straining with the weight of your single bag. He, you notice, doesn't seem at all winded despite how heavy you imagine his bags are.

"It's not like I asked you to plan anything anyways... Why did you have to pick a place so far away?"

"Just wait," he insists. "It's worth it, I promise!"

You aren't sure how he has so much energy. The drive had been five hours—the exhaustion is already setting deep into your bones, and you didn't do anything except lounge in the passenger seat and complain about the secrecy of this trip.

To be fair, your brattiness isn't completely unearned. You didn't even know about this trip until this morning, when Jeongin ambushed you at your apartment and all but corralled you into his car.

It didn't matter how many times you asked him where, exactly, he is taking you—he remained tight-lipped on the destination, until the rocky shores of the coastline came into view and you realized he had taken you to the closest seaside town.

After countless years of friendship with Yang Jeongin, you were taken aback by how much his spontaneity continued to surprise you. It never made sense how the two of you remained friends despite your opposite nature, and yet you couldn't imagine a life without him. So, although it did annoy you to no end that he gave you no heads up about this trip, you went along with it anyways.

Deep down, you knew he planned all of this because of how stressed you had been lately. Jeongin isn't always the best when it comes to comforting you, but he tries, and you can't deny it—a weekend away to rest and recharge does sound like the perfect escape.

"That," you pant once you reach the small cottage on the top of the hill. "Was horrible."

"What do you mean?" Jeongin asks cheerfully.

"I literally hate you so much right now."

"Well," he says, grabbing your bag from you with ease. "I was going to tell you about the fun day I had planned, but I guess not..."

"Jeongin," you grit out. He fishes a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door without even sparing you a glance.

Sometimes, it is irritating just how well he knows you. Sure, it might be your fault for getting so riled up, but if there is one thing you hate more than anything, it is surprises.

Jeongin obviously knows that, and his annoying smirk is really getting on your last nerve. So much so that you hardly notice just how perfect the little cottage is.

"Yes?" He asks sweetly, his dimples on display as he flashes you an innocent grin.

You open your mouth to reply, but then he steps inside and opens the door wider, giving you a perfect view of the inside, and your words suddenly evade you.

"What..." you trail off with a gasp.

"Told you it would be worth it," Jeongin says smugly.

The interior of the cottage is whimsical, with exposed wood pillars, the sprawling bookshelf of your dreams, and a pop of pastel here and there, but what really takes your breath away is the view.

On the far facing wall, a large window overlooks the cliffside that the cottage is sat upon, and the idyllic seaside view is so gorgeous your brain starts malfunctioning.

For some reason that you are unable to place, your throat tightens. The cottage is beautiful, but it is the amount of thought that Jeongin put into it—this whole weekend—that catches you off guard.

If you had to sum it up in one word, you would say it's romantic.

Romance and Jeongin in one thought, however, is enough to send you spiraling. He's your best friend—he has been for years, and you would never do anything to compromise that. Ever. So what if your heart clenches sometimes when he's too nice, or your stomach flip flops when he looks particularly adorable, or your legs threaten to give out when you think about how much you care about him?

What the two of you have right now is perfect, and more importantly, it's enough.

"Wow," Jeongin whistles when you take too long to respond. "That good?"

"...It's alright, I guess," you throw back, the burn in the back of your throat still present even as you shrug your shoulders.

"Alright?" He scoffs. "Just alright?"

"Maybe if it didn't cost me an arm and a leg to get up here..." you trail off, walking towards the only bedroom in the cottage.

"I've seen you climb taller hills for half a bag of chips," Jeongin says.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" You call, swinging the door open.

The bed inside looks just as dreamy as the rest of the house, and you waste no time collapsing into its fluffy mattress. It is only when you take a deep inhale of the cotton that it hits you.

"Jeongin," you begin slowly. "Why is there only one bed?"

"Huh?" His head peeks through the doorframe, gaze falling on where you lie on the bed.

"Hmm. I guess there is only one."

You narrow your eyes. "And you didn't think to check before you booked it?"

The sheepish look that stretches across his face is a familiar one.

"Well, in my defense," he reasons. "I was a little distracted by trying to figure out how I was going to get you here in the first place."

"Oh my god," you groan, facepalming. "I'm best friends with an idiot."

"Hey," he pouts. "Is sharing a bed with me really that bad?"

"Yes!" You burst out.

"You answered that a little bit too quickly."

You purse your lips. That's because the last time we shared a bed I was so turned on I almost begged you to fuck me, you want to scream at him. The words are on the tip of your tongue—but then you remember that he is your best friend, and you stop yourself.

"You hog the blanket," you say instead. "And you're always so warm."

"I thought you liked that."

"Not in the middle of summer, Jeongin!"

"Whatever," he wallows. "I guess I'll just sleep on the couch, then... All alone... By myself..."

His lips pucker in a pout and you raise an eyebrow when he stares at you with wide eyes.

"You're supposed to say 'No, Jeongin, don't do that! Of course I would love to share a bed with you!'" He argues, glaring at you.

"I'm not going to lie," you snort.

He shrugs, picking up one of his bags and throwing it on the right side of the bed.

"Too bad," Jeongin sticks his tongue out at you. "It's my reward for being such a good friend."

"Um," you wrinkle your nose, shoving his bag off the bed.

"...Oh," he freezes, caught off guard by the unexpected action. You can physically pinpoint the moment his expression morphs from playful to unsure.

"Well, o-on a serious note, I'm totally fine sleeping on the couch i-if you're—"

"That's my side of the bed, you roll your eyes. "And if you hog the blankets tonight, I won't hesitate to kick you."

"Ohthankgod," he squeezes out in one breath, collapsing on the bed next to you.

"Yeah, yeah," you brush him off, snuggling deeper into the heavenly mattress. "Now leave me alone for like... two hours. I'm taking a nap."

"Um. No."

"And why the fuck not?"

Jeongin's hand wraps around your ankle. You yelp at the sensation of his warm fingers, and then you yelp again when he pulls you, dragging you to the edge of the bed.

"Let me think," he taps a finger against his chin. "Maybe because it's still the morning, and you spent the whole drive here being a little whiny baby?"

Jeongin towers over you, and your mind short circuits. The image is too suggestive—the pursing of his lips, the downturn of his gaze, not to mention the way that he is halfway straddling you, his legs on either side of your thighs, caging you in.

In another life, this position is leading to something very different. Your lips fall open with a soft puff of air, and all you can do is stare up at him.

But then you remember: he is your best friend.

"And," he continues, and a pang of guilt smacks you in the chest for having such lewd thoughts about him.

"I have a whole day planned for us. You can sleep when we come back."

You remain listless where you are and he frowns.

"Well?"

"I can't really move if you're on top of me," you say, your words coming out more breathy than you intended.

"Oh." Jeongin freezes as if he's only just realized the position you are in. "R-Right."

You aren't sure if you should be insulted by how quickly he scrambles away from you, and it does seem a little bit like overkill when he shoots to the opposite end of the room, but the further away he is, the easier it is to breathe, and so you ignore it.

"At least let me change first," you groan, pushing yourself off of the bed. "Give me five."

"Dibs on shower first!" You holler as you step into the cottage a few hours later.

Jeongin trails in behind you, letting the keys drop slowly from his hands onto the table. Although you hadn't been too enthused about doing anything earlier, the day he had planned out for you was actually very fun.

The café-hopping in particular had been your favorite activity (if there was one thing Jeongin loved to do, it was indulge your incessant sweet tooth), but you had absolutely adored the walk down by the coast as well as the small flea market you had stumbled upon.

The day couldn't have been any more perfect. Even the weather was cooperative; the sun remained out the entire day, but a cool sea breeze sheltered you from the scorching heat of the summer, and you were thankful you had decided to wear your favorite flowy sundress out.

The only issue was that Jeongin seemed a little... distracted throughout it all.

It didn't matter how many times you asked him what was wrong. He remained tight-lipped, insisting that he was fine, that you really needed to stop worrying about him.

But even now, as he flops down onto the couch and stares listlessly at the wall, you can't help but feel a little worried. The glassy, distant look in his eyes makes your heart clench.

"Innie?" You prompt, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom.

"Y-yeah?" He responds, finally looking at you. Except—no, he's not looking at you. He's looking somewhere past you.

To be more specific, at some distant point above your right shoulder.

"Just... Don't come in, I guess," you sigh.

He nods once.

Despite the cozy and humble atmosphere of the cottage, the bathroom is actually quite modern. A sleek marble countertop encases the pearl sink, and a waterfall shower is hidden within walls of frosted glass. Next to the shower, a large window overlooks the rolling clouds in the sky.

You turn the temperature as high as it goes and slip your dress off, letting it fall into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Once the water is warm enough, you step under the stream. As you go through the motions of washing yourself, your mind trails back to Jeongin.

You can't remember the last time you saw him so off. You can't remember if you've ever seen him like this, in fact.

You're not sure what is wrong with him, but the curiosity (laced with concern) gnaws at your stomach. Half an hour later, when you finally step out from under the steaming water, the thought still remains.

In a haze, you dry yourself and get dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sweats before stepping out in the living room. Jeongin is still glued to the couch, but he seems much more relaxed as he scrolls through his phone.

"Shower's all yours," you say.

When he looks up, you are relieved to find that his gaze seems much more clear and focused than it had all day. And when a groan escapes his lips and he reclines further into the couch, you know that he is definitely much better than he had been earlier.

"Stop being gross," you huff. "Go wash up so we can watch How to Train Your Dragon."

"Yeah, yeah," Jeongin gripes, but eventually pushes himself up.

"And hurry!" You call as he steps into the bedroom. "If you're not out in fifteen, I'm starting the movie without you!"

He flips you off right as he shuts the door, and you roll your eyes as you step into the kitchen.

The wide windows give you a perfect view of the sunset over the cliffs, and your stomach turns. It's so beautiful you feel like you can't breathe.

You pour yourself a glass of water and take a large gulp, a strange sense of calm setting over you. You can't recall the last time you felt this at peace—not with all the stress from work and your recently ended situationship. It only makes you even more thankful to have such an amazing friend like Jeongin.

After you finish your water, you head into the living room and begin tidying up for movie night. It only takes a few minutes to get everything ready—the blankets are laid out, the drinks are set up.

Except, when you reach for your phone to order the pizza, you find it is not there. A moment of panic washes over you, until you remember setting it down right before your shower. Which means that your phone must still be in the bathroom.

The faint sound of running water when you approach the bedroom tells you that Jeongin is still in the shower.

"Jeongin?" You knock on the door, but there is no answer. He must not be able to hear you, you think to yourself as you push the bedroom door open and step inside.

The water is louder, and you call his name out again. "Innie?"

No response still.

You knock twice, hoping that he'll be able to hear that at least, but the only reply you get comes in the form of a soft, pained grunt, as if he has just stubbed his toe.

"Jeongin, hello?"

Your hand hovers over the doorknob, a conflicting swirl of emotions welling up inside you. Should you go in? Your phone is on the counter right next to the door, and the shower is frosted glass. It's not like you would see anything, and you would be in and out so quick he wouldn't notice.

And besides, even if you did see something, it wouldn't be the first time. You don't go so many years being best friends with a person and not seeing them naked accidentally at least once.

Yeah, you reason to yourself, it's no big deal. And besides, you really wanted that pizza...

When you turn the doorknob, you're half surprised to meet no resistance. Then again, Jeongin is the type to forget to lock the door.

You push the door open slowly, breathing a sigh of relief when your phone on the counter comes into view. Your eyes drop down to the ground, and you notice that your phone isn't the only thing you left in the bathroom—you had left your dress on the ground, too.

And right next to it lies a pile of Jeongin's discarded clothes.

Your face flushes. There is something strangely intimate about seeing your clothes and his right next to each other. It's so embarrassing to be worked up over such a small thing, and you want to smack yourself for how middle-school it is that such a silly coincidence sends your heart fluttering.

Instead, you take a step inside, slowly, reaching for your phone.

Your hand has just closed around it, a sense of accomplishment-slash-relief swelling in your chest, when you hear a choked moan coming from the shower.

Your heart stops in your chest, and then starts again with a sputter.

What the fuck was that?

And then, you hear the sound again.

Your phone clatters from your grasp as ice sparks through your veins.

There's no way, you think to yourself.

There is no way you just walked in on Jeongin jerking off in the shower.

Is there?

Almost as if you're possessed, you turn towards the shower, towards where your best friend is naked and under the steady stream of water only a few feet away from you.

And even though the glass walls of the shower are frosted only from the neck down, the vague shape of his hand wrapped around himself is unmistakable.

Unbidden, a gasp slips from your lips as a strange mixture of arousal and shame hits you in the chest. Even though you can't see anything, the insinuation is enough to make your blood run hot.

And then, in the most unfortunate turn of events, Jeongin chooses that exact moment to look up.

The scream that escapes his lips would have been comical, if you hadn't also screamed. But hey, what else were you supposed to do? You didn't expect him to actually look up at you. No, actually—you didn't expect to walk in on him jacking off at all.

"W-What—?" Jeongin splutters, flushed—in embarrassment or arousal, you aren't sure.

"I'm sorry!" You screech, your face on fire as you avert your eyes by staring upwards at the ceiling. "I was just trying to get my phone!"

"Oh my god," Jeongin groans, his eyes squeezing shut. "Oh my god, this isn't happening."

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving!" You chant. "I'm so sorry!"

You run out so fast he barely has the chance to respond, and the slamming of the door behind you is so loud it echoes throughout the cottage.

The silence is deafening as you collapse onto the couch in the living room, a hand held to your chest to help calm your racing heart.

You can't think about what you just saw—you refuse to. So, to distract yourself, you turn on the TV and raise the volume loud enough to drown out your thoughts.

Still, you find it impossible to focus on whatever is playing on the screen in front of you.

Ten minutes later, the sound of the shower fades away. Your heart races as you think about what Jeongin is doing in there for so long—did he just continue on after you ran out?

It isn't your place to think thoughts like that about him, however, so you remain seated where you are and wait for him to come out and join you.

Only, he never does. Which you should have expected. After all, is movie night really still in the cards? In your rush to escape the bathroom, you had forgotten your phone in there, so there was no pizza anyways. Not to mention the elephant in the cottage with you...

"Innie?" You peek into the bedroom, only to find him cocooned in the bedsheets, his face hidden from sight.

"Are you awake?"

He doesn't respond, but his breathing gets a little shallower at the sound of your voice.

When you settle down on your side of the bed, he rolls over to face away from you.

"Go away," he mumbles.

"Why?"

"I'm embarrassed," he whines, "and I don't want to look at you or I might cry."

"I'm sorry," you apologize immediately, a frown creeping onto your face.

"Ugh," he groans. "It's not your fault..."

"It kind of is," you point out.

He shakes his head.

"Listen," you sigh. "There's no need to be embarrassed about this, if you really think about it! Masturbating is a natural, healthy thing, and you shouldn't be ashamed of your virility."

"Shut up," Jeongin whines. "Why did you have to say it like that?"

"Because it's true!" You insist, trying to will away the image of what his hand wrapped around his dick might look like if there hadn't been a frosted pane of fucking glass between the two of you earlier.

"And besides," you continue. "We're best friends. I've seen you do loads of embarrassing things. Jerking off in the shower doesn't even make the top five."

"Gee, thanks," his face is still buried under the sheets, but you don't have to see it to know that he is rolling his eyes.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll pretend I never saw anything," you tell him.

He is silent for a moment.

Then, he throws the covers off of himself and sits up, looking you dead in the eye.

"Whatever!" He exclaims finally, pouting at you. "It doesn't matter anyways."

"Exactly!" You nod vigorously. "And besides, it's not like I saw much."

Strands of his damp hair cling to his forehead, and his brow furrows.

"Your loss," he shrugs. "I'm, like, insanely hot."

You scoff at how serious he looks. "You're so annoying."

"And you're a perv," he snarks back.

"Fuck you," you bite.

"You wish!"

"Shut up," you deadpan. "Now, are you done being a baby? We still have a movie to watch."

The next morning when you wake up, it is with buttery sunbeams on your face and Jeongin's dick against your back.

In your half-awake haze, you haven't quite processed where you are. The last thing you remember is falling asleep on opposite ends of the bed after a very emotional rewatch of Jeongin's favorite movie.

And now? Well, it's safe to say that distance was not maintained throughout the night.

In this moment, there are only three truths: a warm, heavy arm is splayed over your torso, pinning you to the bed. Something solid is firm and hard against the small of your back. And when you roll your hips upwards against it, a muffle moan sounds behind you.

The noise is so enticing that you can't help but roll your hips again, relishing the feeling.

Only, half a moment later, do you realize what exactly it is—who exactly it is. Your eyes snap open.

Now, there are four truths: Jeongin's arm is wrapped around you, his dick is hard against your back, you are insanely turned on... And you need to get away from him before he wakes up.

Despite your racing heart, you try you best to pry his arm off of you gently. You can't imagine the embarrassment (on both your parts) if he was to wake up right now. Especially not after last night.

Thankfully, though, he remains asleep once you escape his grasp, stretching out his limbs. Your skin is flushed as you stand over the bed, and you can't help but feel like a creep. First, you accidentally walk in on him jerking off, and then you rub yourself all over him while he's sleeping?

You are the worst friend ever.

Shame washed over you as you hurry into the bathroom. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you spend longer than usual on your morning routine. So maybe it doesn't take ten minutes to tone your face, but you are still dazed with arousal and embarrassment, both of which cause you to move slower than usual.

Thirty minutes later when you walk back into the bedroom, you find Jeongin awake and scrolling through his phone.

"Hey," he greets you, his messy hair falling into his eyes.

"Hi," you say back, hoping you don't sound as awkward as you feel.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks innocently. Your face heats up.

"Y-Yup!" You exclaim.

Jeongin's gaze lingers on you, his lips pursed.

"Anyways," you continue quickly. "What's the plan for today?"

"Oh," he visibly brightens. "Well, I was thinking we could take a walk around town, and then maybe do a boat tour in the afternoon, if you're down for it?"

The bashful way he asks you makes your heart melt, especially with the dangerous knowledge that he's probably already booked the boat tour, just in case you say yes.

"That sounds great," you tell him.

He grins and his eyes disappear behind his dimples, which in turn makes you want to disappear.

"Great," he says happily. "What d'you say we leave in an hour?"

"An hour?" You raise a brow teasingly. "You sure that's enough time for you to get ready?"

He scoffs, pushing himself up from the bed. "Don't be rude."

"Better get a head start," you call as he walks towards the bathroom. Predictably, he sticks his tongue out in your direction before letting the door shut.

As Jeongin gets ready, you rifle through your bag, trying to decide on an outfit for the day. The weather is nice and sunny, and it doesn't take long for you to decide on a dress, similar to the one you wore yesterday: this time, it is light green, short, and flowy enough that you won't have to worry about overheating.

In the time it takes him to finish getting ready, you manage to work your way through an ungodly amount of true crime Youtube videos. You are stretched out on the bed, stomach down, as a mukbang-style recount of a serial killer spree plays on your phone when Jeongin finally walks out of the bathroom.

"Finally," you complain, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. "Are you ready?"

He takes a moment too long to respond, and concern washes over you. When you look up at the way he is all but gaping at you, that concern only intensifies.

"Oh..." Jeongin stutters, frozen in the doorway.

"What?" You ask, self-conscious under his piercing gaze. "Is there something wrong?"

Your brow furrows as you look down at yourself, trying to figure out if your clothes are inside out, or if there is some horrific toothpaste stain that you managed to miss. However, a quick perusal of your outfit indicates that nothing seems to be out of place.

You look back up and Jeongin is still staring.

"Does it... Does it not look good?"

This was your first time wearing this dress. You bought it a few months ago when it caught your eye in the store, hoping that maybe you'd get to dress up and look nicer than usual. It wasn't something you did often but you had just started seeing someone new back then, so you thought—well, why not?

"Jaehyun didn't like it much," you blabber on. "But I thought it was fine. Although, maybe it does look a little off... Should I change? I should change, right?"

Jaehyun was a nice guy, for all intents and purposes. You met him through a friend of a friend, and when he asked you out you said yes immediately, if only because you were bored and desperately in need of a distraction from your turbulent feelings for your best friend.

You liked him well enough, even if he did sometimes say things without thinking. Like how he didn't think green suited you, or that he thought you looked infinitely better in pants instead of dresses. When things ended with him, you weren't too torn up about it, however, so you must not have liked him that much.

At the mention of your ex, Jeongin scoffs.

"That asshole? Don't listen to anything he says. You look great... Beautiful, really."

Your cheeks heat up at the fervor in his voice.

"R-Really?"

He nods vigorously.

"Thanks, Innie..." You mumble.

He is still standing in the doorway, but whatever spell he is under seems to break as he looks at you. Suddenly shy under his gaze, you avoid eye contact as you fidget with the hem of your dress.

"If you don't mind me asking..." Jeongin hesitates. "Why did you end things with him, anyways? Not that I'm complaining! You just, y'know, never really told me what happened."

"Oh, I didn't end things," you say. "He did, actually."

"What?" Jeongin hisses as if he has been physically hit.

You nod.

"Why would he do that?" The genuine disbelief in his voice, as if he can't possibly wrap his mind around what you are saying, floors you. He sounds so personally offended, and you can't help but smile at what a loyal friend he is.

Then his question actually registers and your smile fades away, discomfort churning in your stomach.

"He, uh," you pause. "Well. He didn't like... How close you and I are."

"You're joking."

You shake your head.

Jeongin's eyes are wide and he asks, "did he, like, tell you to choose between me and him?"

He laughs slightly at the end as if it is a joke, but you remain silent.

"No way," he says. "No way."

"Yeah," you suck in a breath. "That was pretty much my reaction, too."

"What an asshole," he scoffs. "Why did you even stay with him for so long?"

There is an edge to his voice, and your brow furrows.

"Because he was nice, and I liked him," you say, slightly irritated at the accusation in his tone.

"Really?" He pins you with a look, as if to say he doesn't think the reason is good enough.

"Yes, Jeongin, and he liked me too. Why else do people see each other?"

"Well it doesn't sound like he liked you that much," Jeongin mutters.

You frown, not liking the way his words pierce you. Maybe it was true that Jaehyun didn't like you that much. But he did like you, which was more than you could say about Jeongin. Who was he to have an opinion on your love life? He might be your best friend, but you don't appreciate the way he is judging you right now—especially for something that is well and truly over.

"I..." You feel more vulnerable than you would like. "You asked what happened and I told you. Why... Why are you mad at me for this?"

"I'm not mad at you," Jeongin says automatically, and his words are softer, lacking the heat they had only moments before.

"It sounds like you are..."

"No," he inhales, chewing on his lip. "God, no. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at him."

"Really...?" You ask dubiously.

"Really!" Jeongin exclaims. "It just pisses me off that he treated you like that. Like, who does he think he is? God, he's always been such a dick!"

You pause, taking in the taut lines of agitation on his face. By now, he has abandoned his position in the doorway in favor of pacing around the room.

"What...?" You say, lost. "But I thought you liked him!"

"Uh, fuck no," he rolls his eyes. "I've never liked him. Literally anyways could treat you better than he did."

A moment passes.

"I could treat you better."

Your breath catches in your throat.

Under any other circumstances, his words would seem normal. You might have been able to brush it off as a joke, maybe even laughed a little.

But the earnest way he is looking at you, the resolute way his hands wring together as he looks at you—really looks at you, tells you that there is more to what he is saying.

HIs pacing has come to a halt, and even from the opposite end of the room, you can see the uneasy rawness in his expression.

"What..." You hiccup. "Why do you say that?"

He considers your question for a moment, a thousand thoughts brewing in his head. It seems as if he is on the precipice of two impossible choices. Then, he takes a steely breath and nods.

"Because I mean it."

The words leave his lips and your heartbeat quickens.

"I don't understand..." You say faintly.

Frustrated, Jeongin runs a hand through his hair. His pacing resumes and he fidgets with his fingers as you watch, unsure what he is going to do next.

"Am I really...?" He mutters, more to himself than to you. "Really...? Okay, yeah, I am."

As you watch, he rolls his shoulders back and then sets his eyes on you, walking over and taking a seat on the bed next to you.

He is close enough that your things are touching and your heart stutters at the imploring look in his eyes. His hand wraps around yours, pulling it into his lap.

You look down at your joined hands, and then up at him again.

"Jeongin?" You ask tentatively.

"Just..." He practically chokes, his eyes sliding shut.

"Are you okay?" A concoction of worry and anticipation swirls inside you.

"Yeah, okay. I'm just going to say it."

"Okay."

"This is kind of embarrassing," he laughs. "I mean, why is this so hard? You literally just walked in on me with my hand around my dick yesterday but this seems, like, ten times worse."

Heat shoots through you.

"W-What...?" You breathe unable to stop the way your gaze drops to his covered crotch, only a few inches away from your joined hands.

Jeongin had decided on wearing jeans today, the baggy dad-fit kind, and although they are loose, you can't help but imagine what might lie underneath.

"Wait..." Jeongin says. "Are you staring at my dick right now?"

"What? No!"

"Really? It sure looks like you are."

"There's a stain," you fib, dragging your eyes away from him.

"I just bought these two days ago."

"Okay," you inhale. "Fine. Maybe I was. But also, y'know, maybe I wasn't."

When you look at his face, a small smile threatens to break out across it.

"D'you want a closer look?" He teases.

You scoff, yanking your hand out of his.

"Weren't you saying something?" You ask pointedly.

"Sorry, you're right," he nods, gently taking your hand back. Except this time, he pulls the rest of you along with it, dragging you flush onto his lap.

Your cheeks flush immediately, but Jeongin doesn't seem at all embarrassed by this new position.

"I'm trying to confess my feelings for you right now," he continues. "We can talk about my dick later."

"You're... what for me?!"

He raises a brow, surprisingly calm.

"Feelings," Jeongin says slowly. "I have them. For you. Romantically, y'know."

You scoff. "Don't be condescending. I heard what you said!"

"I was just trying to help," he tells you innocently. "You seemed confused.

"Because I am!" You cry. "What are you saying? Y-You can't be serious."

"Yes, I am," he rolls his eyes. "I like you, a lot, in case you couldn't tell."

You gape at him.

"And you must like me too," he adds, "considering the way you were just staring at my dick."

You glare at him, unable to fight the fierce heat that rises to your cheeks even as you break your hand free from his grasp once again.

"Shut up," you groan, placing your hands square on his chest. A teasing smile stretches across his face, and then slowly slips away as you wiggle in his lap, trying to get off of him.

Jeongin's breath catches in his throat and his hands automatically drift to your hips, holding you in place.

"Let me go," you whine, increasing your efforts. "You're saying weird things and I, like, need a moment."

"Oh my god. You need to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" You snark.

He looks at you pointedly, a dark look in his eyes, and you wriggle some more, until—

"Oh," you gasp, surprising by the hard feeling poking against your thigh. "Jeongin, w-what the hell?"

"It's not my fault," he groans. "I told you to stop! And you look so good in this stupid dress I-I couldn't help it..."

"I don't understand," you stutter, arousal shooting straight to your core. "Where is this coming from?"

"You can't be serious," Jeongin mutters, and against your will, you squirm at the hoarse quality of his voice.

"—Fuck, please don't do that."

He sounds physically in pain, and you inhale sharply as his grip tightens on your hips, bruising as he holds you in place. His hands are so big—a fact you have always known, but seems somehow unavoidable now that they are holding you down on his lap.

"I—" You begin.

"You really had no idea how I feel about you?" Jeongin asks, pulling you closer to him. "Like, at all?"

"Oh," the moan escapes your lips at the delicious drag of your clothed core against his leg.

"Fuck, I wasn't going to tell you like this," he mumbles, his head falling against your shoulder. "I wasn't going to tell you at all. But I just—"

He inhales.

"I wanted to do this the right way, at least," Jeongin's jaw clenches.

"You are definitely doing this the right way," you say lowly, and then immediately blush afterwards. The words weren't supposed to come out, but his fingers tighten on your hips, and your thighs tighten around his leg.

"Shut up," he huffs, but there is a burgeoning hope underlying his tone. "I'm trying to be romantic here."

You consider his words. This position is making you delirious—you have always dreamed of this, Jeongin under you... no, Jeongin having feelings for you. It's euphoric, knowing that he actually cares about you the way you care about him. But the heat building up in the pit of your stomach is increasingly distracting, and all you want to do right now is grind down and get some relief.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, and then look up at him with wide eyes.

"You can be romantic after you fuck me," you say boldly.

A muffled groan escapes his lips and his hips ruth shallowly upwards at your words.

"Don't say things like that," he whines. "I—"

"Yes?" One of your hands creeps up his thighs.

"No," Jeongin glares at you. He snatches your sneaky wrist, yanking it away from you, and his unforgiving grip only sends another shot of arousal through you.

"If I fuck you," he breathes, "it'll be after I tell you how I feel."

You perk up. "So that means you are going to fuck me?"

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "Not if you keep acting like a brat."

You raise a brow wordlessly, and Jeongin's hold on your wrist loosens at the look in your eyes.

In this position, your dress is ridden up to the top of your thighs, leaving little to nothing to the imagination. You don't miss the way that his gaze travels up your legs, snagging on the green material as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

A mischievous, horny half-thought forms in your head. Your hands drift to the hem of your dress, and then before he can stop you—or worse, before you can stop yourself—you tug it up high enough to put your lace panties on display.

"Y/N." Your name is a choked whine as it leaves his lips.

"Yes?"

Jeongin takes a deep breath, his eyes focused on the ceiling in an attempt to collect himself.

"I don't—I mean, I want—" He struggles.

"Is something wrong, Innie?"

"I'm trying to tell you that I like you, but you're being so fucking difficult. Can't you wait, like, two minutes?"

"Oh my god, shut up," you breathe finally, squirming closer to him. "You like me, I get it! I like you too, obviously. I would like you better if your dick was inside me, but whatever. Can we fuck now?"

Your hand inches up his thigh again, and this time he doesn't have the chance to stop you before you're dragging a finger along the crotch of his jeans.

Half a sigh escapes his lips and then he grabs your hand, adjusting your grip so that you are fully palming him through the thick material.

"If you're going to be a brat," he groans, "at least do it right."

A wicked grin stretches across your lips.

"Gladly."

You reach for his zipper, eager to get his pants off so you can feel the full weight of him in your hands. But before you have the chance, Jeongin's hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you down to his lips.

"You—" he presses his lips against yours, hard. "—are such—" The words vibrate against your lips and you fight the urge to whimper, "—a tease."

"I'm trying to touch your dick," you pout between kisses.

Technically, you are touching his dick, but it's not enough. Not since yesterday, when the tantalizing what if wormed its way into your mind. It is pure torment, knowing all the lies between you and your prize is one measly layer of denim.

It is even more annoying that Jeongin has decided to distract you with pecks on the lips that are surprisingly tame, considering that he is insanely hard beneath you.

"And I," he glares, "am trying to tell you how much I adore and admire you."

The effect of his resolve is half-lost when his eyes flicker down to your chest, glazing over in lust as he stares at the shape of your body.

"Do that later," you hiss.

Your efforts with your hands are momentarily forgotten as you focus your attention solely on his lips.

Determined to deepen the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself as close as you can, scooting up in his lap and molding the front of your body to his.

In this new position, your core is directly over his clothed cock and you grind down on him at the same time that you lick a long stripe against the seam of his lip.

Your actions have the desired effect when Jeongin's lips part in a soundless moan. His willpower quakes when your tongue slides into his mouth, and the way he kisses you back is sloppy, as if he is trying to swallow you whole.

But then, almost too quickly, he remembers himself. With a surprisingly sexy amount of self control, he manages to pull himself away from you.

A small whine escapes you and your lips try to follow his, but Jeongin's hand wraps around your throat and holds you where you are.

"Who said you could do that?" He asks. His lips are red and swollen as they turn upwards in a foreboding smirk.

"Sorry, I didn't know I needed permission to kiss you," you scoff. "Or did you not like it?"

"Oh, I liked it," Jeongin says, unaffected by your taunt. "What I would like more is for you to shut up and actually listen to me, but it's okay. We'll get there eventually."

"Sure," you roll your eyes.

A competitive glint steals its way into his gaze. "Is that a challenge?"

"And if it is?"

"Mmm, baby, I was hoping you would say that."

And then, before you can react, he pushes you roughly off of him. Not expecting the motion, you fall into a heap on top of the bed sheets, a gasp caught in your throat.

When you look up, Jeongin peels his shirt off, maintaining eye contact even as he settles against the headboard, palming himself through his pants.

"That wasn't very nice," you push yourself up onto your knees.

He raises a brow, his gaze raking up and down your body.

"Why are you so far away?" You complain. "I thought you were going to fuck me."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that patience is a virtue?"

You can't deny how hot it is, being so close but so far away, able to look but not touch him. There is something vaguely humiliating in the distance between the two of you, and Jeongin's heated gaze pins you in place.

"Patience is for losers," you huff childishly. "Are you going to touch me or do I have to do all the work myself?"

You realize your mistake a moment too late.

"Hmm, you're right," he muses. "Why should I touch you when you can do it yourself?"

It's too late to take it back, and you refuse to beg, so you keep your mouth shut.

"It's only fair, don't you think? You saw me, now it's my turn."

Jeongin's innocent smile coupled with his sharp words is enough to set you alight.

Still, you hesitate, your lips parted in a half 'o' as you consider his words.

"Touch yourself for me, or I won't touch you at all."

"Ugh," you whine finally, seeing the promise in his eyes. "Fine."

"Don't be a brat," Jeongin warns.

You can't help but roll your eyes, and yet when you bring your hand down to your clothed core, a shy flush works itself onto your face.

It isn't like you have never touched yourself before, but you can't remember the last time you had such a rapt audience, and it isn't just anyone watching you—it's Jeongin.

There is a sort of thrill to the way he stares you down, strong desire evident in his gaze even as he remains perfectly still. That thrill is then only heightened by the fact that you are still completely clothed, your skirt flipped up so that he has a perfect view of what is underneath.

With a deep breath, you run a hesitant finger once over the fabric of your panties, then twice. Jeongin is only able to watch your timid ministrations with a singular focus, and it emboldens you enough to push the thin fabric covering you to the side.

He inhales sharply at the sight.

"Oh my god," the strangled words barely escape his mouth, and you don't miss the way he squeezes himself tighter.

You lick your lips at the sight and slowly trail a finger down, circling yourself bare with small, light figure eights.

"Does that feel good?" Jeongin asks, and the eagerness in his voice surprises you. His voice is steady, and if you weren't able to see his blown out pupils for yourself, you would think that he was genuinely, objectively interested in the answer to the question.

"I guess..."

Even though you are insanely turned on, your fingers aren't doing much for you right now. You have always needed something else—a toy, a helping hand, anything—to help you get off this way. Jeongin's surveilling gaze is certainly helping, but predictably, you can't help but feel a little bit stuck.

"You don't sound very sure." You aren't sure how he manages to sound both condescending and caring at the same time.

Your lip snags between your teeth in frustration.

"It's... It's not enough."

"Hmm," he remains still.

"Jeongin..." His name comes out breathy.

"Aww," he coos. "D'you need some help?"

"You're so annoying," you growl.

"And you're so mouthy," he rolls his eyes and a hand wraps around your ankle, yanking you towards him.

In only a second, you all but fall onto his lap. You can't help the moan that escapes you at his manhandling, and his lips twist in a smirk when he hears it.

"Is this better?" He teases.

Your thighs lay over his, but your core is far away from where you want it to be most: flush against his dick. In an attempt to get closer, you wriggle your hips, but Jeongin's hands come down and hold them firmly in place.

"Can you get off like this?"

You glare at him. The tone in which he asks the question hints that he already knows the answer is no.

"Try," he says, "and maybe if you're good, I'll give you a reward."

Frustrated, you bring two fingers down to your clit and continue your slow circling, faster this time as you teeter between the desire to ease the pressure and the desire to defy Jeongin.

"Wanna know what I was thinking about yesterday?" He asks casually, his eyes focused again on the languid movement of your fingers.

"H-Huh?"

"When you walked in on me," he clarifies.

"Oh."

"I was thinking about you," Jeongin says. "You and that stupid fucking dress you were wearing."

Your breath catches in your throat and you clench around nothing. his eyes are dark and his hand drifts down to squeeze himself as he continues.

"Every time you wear one of those dresses," he inhales, tugging on the hem of your skirt, "It makes me lose my mind. Did you know that?"

You bite your lip, your fingers pressing down harder against you.

"They're just so... ugh." He pants, squeezing himself tighter. "It would be so easy to flip it up and have my way with you."

His words are torture, especially with the devout way he refuses to touch you. You breathe shakily, trying to ignore the way his voice goes straight through you.

"Just one move, mmm, and you could sit on my dick, anywhere you want. Nobody would even have to know."

His hips rut upwards, and you know that he isn't as unaffected as he seems.

"Would you like that?" He asks. "I bet you would."

"And who said I would let you?"

His eyes darken.

"I-I mean, you'd have to earn it first," you lick your lips.

"Earn it?" he murmurs. "How? Like this?"

And then he pulls you forward so that your body is flush with his. The position is reminiscent of a few moments ago, when your tongue had been down his throat, but this time Jeongin's lips go straight for your throat and his fingers make their way to your core, pushing yours out of the way.

"Oh."

It astounds you just how different his hand feels from your own. He keeps the same pace as you, and yet arousal sparks through your veins in a way that you have never been able to achieve on your own.

"You're so wet," he says against your skin, sucking a bruise under the curve of your jaw. "How are you this wet?"

That, of course, only sends more arousal shooting down to your core, gushing against his fingers, and his eyes roll back.

"You're so hot. Oh my god."

"Keep talking like that," you sigh, "and you'll definitely earn something."

"Like what?" His hips roll up right as he presses down deeper and you swear you almost black out.

"S-something like your dick in my mouth, maybe."

"Ugh," Jeongin hisses, and his hand stills.

"What—?" You quiver on his lap from the sudden loss of sensation.

"Sorry," his eyes screw shut and his hand move to your hips, repositioning you on his lap so that you are no longer directly on his dick.

"I—hmm, I need a moment."

"Did I do something wrong?" You ask, dazed.

"No!" Jeongin exclaims immediately. "It's just..."

He purses his lips, a light blush rising to his cheeks.

"Yes?"

"I was like, two seconds away from coming in my pants, and that would have been so embarrassing."

His confession is surprisingly candid for how abashed he sounds.

"Oh my god," you whimper, clenching down on nothing. "That's so hot."

"Fuck. You're like, insane. What the fuck?"

You narrow your eyes. "We've been best friends for years. You're only realizing that now?"

"I was a little distracted by other things about you," he breathes against your neck.

You huff, a retort ready, but then his mouth is on you again.

"C-Can you just fuck me already?" You whine instead. "I—I need to feel you or I'll die."

"You're so dramatic," he rolls his eyes.

Your hands have a mind of their own as they travel down to his pants, squeezing him through them. His head falls into the crook of your shoulder with a moan, but he doesn't stop you even as you drag the zipper down.

And then, he lets out the most delicious sound as you reach into his boxers and wrap your fingers around the head of his cock. The weight of it feels perfect in your hands and you waste no time in pulling him out of his boxers.

Your mouth goes dry at the first real look at him. He's big, bigger than you thought he would be, and you are dizzy at the thought of it.

How would he feel inside you? Would be even fit? The heat inside your chest sparks further.

"Stop looking at me like that," Jeongin grinds out.

You watch in awe as you give him an experimental stroke and his mouth drops open. Another stroke, and a strangled moan leaves his lips.

Curiously, you run a finger over the tip, gathering his precum before running your hand down his shaft once more.

"Oh my god," he moans into your shoulder. Jeongin's gaze is focused on your small hand moving over his cock, and your gaze is focused on face and the small reactions he gives you.

"You're evil," Jeongin hisses after a particularly vindictive squeeze.

"And you're hot," you say.

"O-okay, that's enough—"

He halts your hand, unwrapping your fingers from his cock. His face screws up and his hips unconsciously follow your touch as it leaves, but he remains steady when he pulls you away.

"But—" you pout.

"You can do that later," Jeongin breathes. "Unless you would rather I come in your hands instead of inside you?"

"No," you shake your head quickly. "The second one. Let's do that one."

A smirk slips across his face and then one hand is on your hip again, pulling you even closer as the other wraps around the base of his cock.

"I'm going to..." he breathes. "Can I fuck you now?"

"Hmm..." You tap a finger to your chin. "i dunno, what happened to not fucking me until you told me how you feel?"

"I hate you, that's how I feel," he mutters, his brow furrowed.

"I don't think so—oh."

Your taunt trails off as he brushes the head of his dick against your core. The feeling of him hot in between your legs is enough for you to whimper.

"Let me fuck you," he says again. "Please?"

You nod, lightheaded as he continues to rub his cock against you.

"Yeah. Yes. Please, fuck me."

"Thank god," he breathes.

His fingers hook your panties even further to the side and then you lift your hips up so that you are hovering just above him. With an unsteady breath, Jeongin positions his dick right at your entrance.

He looks up at you, his pupils blown out with lust.

"Ready?" He asks in a voice that is surprisingly tender.

You nod again, and then slowly sink down on him.

"Fuck," he chokes out.

The stretch is unfamiliar, and you bite down on your lip to stifle the sound that threatens to escape. You knew he was big, but the burn of him opening you up still catches you off guard.

Jeongin notices your expression immediately, and his hands on your hips stop you in your path.

"Are you okay?" His voice is laced with concern.

"I'm good. Just—so big."

"Sorry," he whispers. "We... we don't have to do this right now."

"No!" You shake your head. "No, I want to. Just... give me a second."

He nods understandingly.

"Take your time."

He is barely even halfway inside you at this point, but you breathe in through your nose as you wait to adjust to his size. A few moments later, the burn fades mostly away into a dull ache, which then gives way to the threads of arousal that had previously been wrapping around you.

All it takes is one look at Jeongin's wrecked expression for that arousal to increase tenfold. You can feel yourself growing wetter at the expression on his face, and then he groans, and you know that he must have felt it too.

"What—" He begins, but his sentence breaks off into a moan as you roll your hips forward and then slowly push yourself downward once more.

"You—oh, you feel so..." Jeongin blabbers.

"Yes?" You ask, pleasantly surprised as the pain slowly fades into pleasure.

"So good," he gasps. His eyes are unfocused, and when you finally are able to take him fully to the hilt, he squeezes your hips.

"You're—" he breathes. "You're doing so well."

The praise sends more heat through you and you unintentionally clench down on him.

"Holy shit," he whines.

"You're so big," you hiss.

He nods quickly, and you aren't sure if he heard what you said.

"Can you," he begins. "Well, I mean, whenever you're ready, can you maybe move?"

"O-only because you asked so nicely."

And then, quicker than he can process, you lift yourself up and swivel your hips downwards.

"Oh," you both moan at the same time.

Experimentally you repeat the motion, and a shot of heat moves through you when it garners the same reaction. It doesn't take long before you have built up a steady rhythm, riding him as he moans beneath you.

"Where—oh, where d-did you learn how to do this?" He pants, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You tease, breathing heavy from both pleasure and exertion.

"You're so good," he murmurs against your neck, moaning when you roll your hips a way that allows him to reach inside deeper than before. "So, so good, oh my god."

His mouth moves to your throat, placing sloppy kisses up and down the column of your neck.

"You're so pretty like this. And I'm the only one who gets to see, hmm?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "O-only you."

The force of your riding allows the skirt of your dress, previously rolled up to your torso, to fall back down. There is something sensual and dirty about the way that you are both still clothed—you, with your panties haphazardly pushed to the side and him, with his cock just barely pulled out of his pants. It makes you go crazy, how you can't even see the way you sink down on him because of all the fabric in between.

"Jeongin," you whimper. "I—oh my god, you feel so good, I think I-I'm close..."

"Already?" He teases, panting as he sucks a bruise against your jaw.

You nod, your movements getting more and more sloppy as the pleasure builds.

"I—" you moan, but the build is too slow to actually push you over the edge. "I can't."

The frustration in your voice has Jeongin thrusting upwards to meet the roll of your hips.

"Not enough?" He asks, and you nod pathetically.

He pulls away, his hands on your hips moving to stop you. You are so fucked out that you hardly notice that he is pulling out of you until you feel the glaring absence of him.

"What—" You whimper, close to tears at the visceral loss.

"Shh," he soothes, swallowing your words with a chaste kiss to the lips. "Don't worry, baby, I'm going to take care of you."

Jeongin's tongue peeks out of his mouth as he pushes you down, slowly, until you are laid flat on your back. A small whine builds in the back of your throat and you fist the sheets beneath you, not really knowing what is going on except that Jeongin was fucking you and now no longer is.

Then, before you even have to ask, he is back at your entrance, pushing into you.

This time, it is much easier to accommodate the stretch. His first stroke is enough to bring you back to the precipice you had been on earlier, and Jeongin chokes audibly when you clench down on him.

"So tight," he grunts, thrusting into you again. "You feel like heaven."

You bite into the heel of your palm as the whimpers begin to build up in your throat.

"Don't do that," Jeongin groans, his next stroke languid and deep enough to have you seeing stars.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it away from your mouth.

"Wanna hear you," he pants. You moan as he thrusts into you again, somehow even deeper. "Yeah, just like that."

His fingers push your palm flat against the bed next to you, and then gently intertwine with yours, an intimate juxtaposition to the precise snap of his hips above you.

"You're so beautiful," he groans. "I like you so much."

"Jeongin," you whimper when he brushes against your g-spot. "I-I'm close. Please, please."

"Yeah?"

"M-more," you nod, your eyes glazed over.

The frantic pace that he builds up has him moaning as he pulls your hips towards him.

"You look so perfect like this," he gasps. "I'll never be able to look at you in a dress again without thinking of this, fuck."

His fingers fist the hem of your dress, pushing it up until it bunches just under your chin.

"Close," you whisper. "Sososo close, oh my god, please Innie..."

"Are you gonna come?" He asks. "It's okay baby, come for me. Please, wanna feel it."

His movements are jerky now but you hardly notice because his words are enough to finally push you past your breaking point. One more well positioned thrust right against your g-spot has you seeing white, and with a gasp of his name, you come.

"Fuck, oh my god," his eyes screw tight. "You feel so good, so, so, so good. Holy shit, how are you even real?"

The words sound fuzzy as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

It is only a few moments, once you have finally come down from your high, that you are able to get a good look at Jeongin. His pace is still fast as he fucks into you, and you can't help but cringe away from the oversensitivity. But then, when you notice his flushed face and his taut eyebrows, you decide that the slight sting between your thighs is worth it.

After all, he looks so hot like this—frantic and desperate and so, so close.

"I'm gonna come," he gasps. "Where can I come?"

You blink slowly, wanting to engrain the image of him into your brain forever.

Then, you look up at him with wide eyes, and instead of responding, you simply open your mouth and stick your tongue out immediately.

"Fuuuuck," Jeongin groans. "Don't do this to me, holy shit."

He thrusts shallowly into you once more, and then swiftly pulls out, positioning himself over your mouth.

"You're not real," he says, "I—god, you're so hot."

He jerks himself off quickly, precisely, and with a gasp, he comes. You make sure to get every last drop, licking your lips slowly while maintaining brutal eye contact.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself, and then collapses on the bed next to you.

"So..." you say a few moments later. "What was that you were saying about how much you adore and admire me?"

"Sorry, what are you talking about?" Jeongin shoots back.

You roll over to face him, a pout stretched across your lips.

"Innie..."

He glares at you. "Oh, so now you want to talk about feelings."

You twirl a strand of hair around your fingers, looking away from him.

"You're such a brat," he groans, pulling you closer so he can wrap an arm around you. "...It's really unfortunately that I like you so much."

The grin that stretches across your face is blinding.

"I like you too," you add. "Y'know, just for the record."

"Really? I thought you fucked all your friends like that."

"Just the special ones," you simper.

"Whatever," he says, but then presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You melt into his embrace, feeling more content than you had for weeks.

"Anyways," Jeongin declares. "As fun as that was, I think we need to get cleaned up quickly now."

"For what?" You ask, confused.

He raises a brow, pushing himself up. "We still have that boat tour to go on."

"...You're not serious."

You follow suit, sitting up so you can stare at him.

"Oh, I definitely am."

"C'mon," you whine, grabbing his hand. "For real?"

He nods. "Yup. There's no way you're getting out of this."

You pause.

"No way at all...?" You pout a little too innocently.

"Nope."

"...Really?" You fidget with the hem of your dress. And then, with a little smirk on your face, you pull it completely over your head.

Jeongin's eyes go wide and he stares at you, his gaze darkening once again.

"Well..." He mutters, pushing you so that you are flat on your back again. "I guess we can always try tomorrow..."

You cleared your throat, “Is that a problem?” You asked softly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How could that be a problem, Y/n?” He ran a hand through his freshly dried hair, looking at the blushing moon through his shut patio door. Jisung gazed at your confused features through his ruffled bangs before sighing, going back to picking at his chipped black nail polish.

He took a deep breath before speaking, “I just- I’m not sure if I deserve someone like you in my life, that’s all.” It was your turn to scoff, frowning as you watched your best friend fiddle with his thumbs.

You stayed silent, the softest of songs playing quietly through his speaker. It was 1am, his roommates were fast asleep; so were you just 2 hours ago. In the middle of the night, Jisung called you, his voice groggy as he muttered “I can’t sleep.” He was a grown man, he didn’t need you to rock him and sing him a lullaby. But he just wanted to hear your voice, loving how your tone could warm his heart in a millisecond.

He never admitted it out loud, but he was in love with you. Platonically and romantically. At first, he tried to deem it as infatuation, a silly little crush he developed because you were one of the most caring people he’s met in this lifetime. Unfortunately, it was way deeper than that. But he’d never tell you, that would ruin everything. 

Therefore he used your kindness in order to see you whenever he could. Granted, this was selfish of him. Waking you up at 12am just because he knew you were too pure to just tell him ‘wait till the morning’. You cared too much, and he loved you for that, loved how you cared for him; along with many other things. He wasn’t that shallow. 

The only thing he despised about you, was how you’d never let him take care of you; not properly at least. You always had to pay for food, he wasn’t allowed to. You got him gifts but frowned when he got you one. He accepted your love languages, they were a part of you. But still, it bothered him to no end. Who was taking care of you if you were so busy taking care of him? 

“Did you eat dinner, y/n?” He asked you softly, clearing his throat as he swiftly changed the subject. You allowed it, “Mhm,” you muttered, “But it was boring without you there.” You let out with a soft chuckle.

God, why did you have to say that? Jisung’s heart skipped a beat at the image of you eating, pouting since the lack of his presence didn’t allow you to talk to him about nothing like you usually do. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be there next time.” Your love languages: quality time, gift-giving, and of course, words of affirmation. 

This allowed him to call you pet names without you thinking too much into it. This was one of the ways you allowed him to look after you, making you feel comfortable around him. He’d call you “babe”, “Princess”, your personal favorite was “beautiful”, but you’d never let him know that.

You smiled at the pet name. Silence fell over the two of you, sitting on his soft cushioned king sized bed, bathing in each other’s presence. That’s until you remembered something you discussed with your friends earlier. It was an embarrassing topic to say the least, and the question you had was even more questionable. But it was Jisung, what’s the worst he could say?

“Ji?” You muttered, he hummed back. “You know how I’ve never kissed someone before?” You pouted as he chuckled, softly slapping his bicep. “I’m sorry. Yeah, what about it?” He says, chuckling softly; still gazing at the blushing moon.

You gulped, it was now your turn to start playing with your chipped nail polish. “Why haven’t you offered to kiss me before?” You could see him frown in confusion before turning to you with an unreadable expression. “It's just that, Felix asked me… if you ever offered before. Because we're so close, you know? I’m only comfortable, with you… as of now.” you muttered, awaiting his answer.

“I didn’t think you’d want that from me, Y/n.” He stated, his tone still soft as ever while he searched your eyes for a further explanation. “Well, I think it would be better to kiss you than some random person, no? I mean, I trust you with my life.” You said, slowly becoming timid due to his intense stare.

He nodded, finally understanding your intentions; wanting to experience something you’d probably longed for. And Jisung was the only one that seemed safe. His hair fell into his eyes as you watched him take in your words, looking at you with care. “I wouldn’t mind kissing you, beautiful.” Your lips parted as he smiled at you gently. 

“Can you kiss me now?” His brows raised at your sudden request, but he nodded nevertheless. Scooting closer to you as you stayed stationary, awaiting his arrival.

“Don’t be scared, Y/n,” he whispers once he got close enough that your knees were touching, his breath fanning over your cheeks. “Like you said, it’s just me right?” He smiled, showing you his teeth as he found your shy eyes. You nodded, smiling back as your hands absentmindedly fisted his sheets.

“Can I touch you? Is that okay?” He asked gently. “Uhm, touch me how?” Your innocent question shouldn’t have affected Jisung the way it did, his mind traveling to more mature places; having him chant “don’t fuck it up” in his very active mind.

“Your cheeks, can I hold your face?” he whispered, hoping you didn’t notice him growing tense. You muttered yes. A light involuntarily gasp escaped as you felt both his warm hands grab a hold of your hot cheeks. Jisung licked his lips out of habit, catching your gaze as he was now so close that your noses brushed.

His thumb brushed your cheeks soothingly, “Ready?” He whispered, his gaze switching from your eyes to your impatient lips. “Mhm”. He gave one last smile before pressing into your lips with his.

His lips attached themselves to yours like they belonged there all this time. Smooth, sensual, gentle. You could feel your heart beating against your chest as he took his time stroking your cheeks, kissing you deeply. He wanted this to be nice for you, fun. He didn’t want you to overthink and to just feel him instead, get lost in him momentarily. Luckily for him, his message got conveyed. You untensed, kissing Jisung back as you reminded yourself that you were safe. Instead of asking yourself if you were doing it right, the decision was made to get lost in Jisung instead. Completely lost, almost taken away by him.

Did kissing always feel like this? If so you should’ve given into temptation much earlier, asking your best friend for harmless make-out sessions every week if you could. You sighed into him, frowning as you tried to get impossibly closer, wanting more of him on your lips. He chuckled against you, amused but not pulling away as he tilted his head for a better angle, wanting you to have a good first kiss. His lips were soft, it made your brain… fuzzy? A new, unfamiliar feeling that you’ve only heard your friends speak about. However, you accepted the new feeling. What could go wrong?

Undoubtedly, maybe you should’ve hung on to that last bit of sanity you had left. Maybe it was the way Jisung pulled away shortly to say you're doing well, asking you if you were okay. But you knew it was the way he hummed into you, kissing you deeper but going softer at some points; not wanting to get lost in his head. It was… attractive, this kind of attractive where you feel a funny feeling in your tummy. You moved closer, one hand found his knee while the other placed itself on the slither of blanket between the two of you, clenching the fabric for dear life; not that it would help with the sweaty palms and heat pooling in your underwear.

Thank god Jisung was still conscious. Making it his mission to be hyperaware, reading any silent cues you might have given off. Jisung pulled away when he heard you whimper, thinking he might’ve done something wrong, maybe you’ve had enough. Totally oblivious to your roaring thoughts. But his worries soon disappeared as he opened his eyes only to find yours still closed, brows scrunched as you tried to chase his lips, not wanting his warmth to go just yet. 

Jisung gulped as your eyes fluttered open, your gaze seeming darker from when he last looked into them. Your pupils were blown out as you looked at him in question. “Why did you stop?” You asked breathlessly. He couldn’t form a proper sentence, not knowing how to answer you. How long have you wanted to be kissed? Did you always want this from him? Him… specifically? That’s how you were acting. Desperate, needy, like you’ve been starved, waiting for him.

He didn’t move away when you abruptly took initiative this time, grabbing his cheeks and pressing your lips onto his, rougher than before. He grunted into you, grabbing your waist to hold you still. You pulled away, only to whisper “more.” Jisung’s eyes widened as you moved to straddle him, kissing him with urgency. Jisung let you do your thing for a while, almost letting himself go brain dead until he remembered, you’ve never experienced something like this.

He pulled away, tapping your lower back as you caught your breath, now looking down at him due to sitting on his lap.

“Slow down Y/n, hm?” He whispered, peering into your dazed eyes. It made his heart pound, you looked like you were drunk on him. “Do you realize where you're sitting right now?” He asked softly. He pressed his lips together as you bit yours, his eyes looking at how plump your lips were; he couldn’t even measure how long you kissed. You nodded slowly, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“I-I don’t wanna have sex,” Jisung stiffened at your comment, his eyes widening as he opened his mouth to talk; you beat him to it “But I want you, in some way.” You whispered, gazing down at him with nothing but need. 

Jisung started to understand that lust was taking over your mind, you weren’t thinking clearly. He’s never seen you so… weak. “Y/n, baby,” he takes hold of your face, “I know it feels nice, but think for a moment, hm? I don’t want you to regret anything.” He says seriously. 

You resist the urge to whine in frustration, “I can take care of myself Jisung.” You whisper, He sighed, “I know bab-”, “Do you wanna… do want me to… taste you? Can I taste you? I’ve always wanted to.” his lips parted in surprise, hearing his best friends speak in ways he’s never heard before.

You took his silence to explain yourself. “My friend, from uni, she said it’s fun. When you get to feel a guy twitch because of you. The only guy I could think of reacting like that for me… is you. I- I wanna make you cum.” You whispered shyly, your hand bunching the fabric of his shirt. 

Jisung felt his member twitch and grow at your words, he knows you felt it because you jolted in his lap. “S-sorry, but when you talk like that… Jesus Y/n, what’s got into you?” He mummers, observing how set in your ways you were. You bit your lip, hands traveling to play with the collar of Jisung’s sleeveless band tee. Jisung began to think - trying his best to ignore how your fingers caressed his bicep - if this was gonna happen, he was gonna make sure to take care of you.

“How about, I taste you instead? How does that sound princess?” Jisung couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened, pointing at yourself in disbelief. “T-Taste me?” You whispered softly. Jisung hummed, rubbing your thighs that had him caged in. “Mhm, I want you to feel good. It’ll be much more fun for you. If you still want to go down on me afterward, we can try.” He smiled up at you, gently squeezing your hips.

His comforting smile didn’t leave his face as you nodded in agreement. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you y/n?” You slapped his chest softly out of embarrassment. He let out a chuckle before laying down. You looked at him confused, now playing with the hem of your skirt.

“You’re gonna sit on my face, beautiful.”

He grinned at your shocked face. He loved seeing this side of you. So different from your caring nature, always wanting to take care of him to the best of your ability, never letting him be the one to be strong for the both of you. Full 180 from what he’s used to. But if this is the only way you’ll let him pay you back for your kindness, he will gladly do so.

“Uhm… what if.. Uhm,” he watched you stammer with a soft expression, using his hand to continue rubbing at your thigh. “What are you nervous about? Hm?” Jisung asked softly, “What if I like… suffocate you or something?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Babe, it would be a pleasure to have your thighs around my head. The only way I can breathe is through you… you have no idea how much I want that right now.” Your eyes widened at his confession, feeling his hands grip your thighs tighter as he bucked his hips slightly; reminding you of how hard he was under you.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, y/n.” You watched his soothing close lipped smile as he guided you closer to his face. You didn’t fight it, only being slightly disappointed by not being seated on his bulge anymore. “Make yourself at home beautiful,” Jisung whispered, licking his lips as you finally hovered over him.

He looked into your eyes as he slid your panties to the side, biting his lip softly and he let out a sigh. “So… wet, from what baby? Kissing?” His chuckle made you gulp, your cheeks heating up as he lowered you onto his face.

“Oh,” you gasp as you feel his lips gently latch onto your bud. You gulped at the new unfamiliar feeling, staring at the wall in front of you as you adjusted slightly. You flinched as he hummed against you, lightly sucking as his hands slid underneath your shirt.

“J-Jisung, it feels kinda… ni-oh.” Your chest heaved as you felt him chuckle, squeezing your clothed breast in response. You felt his lips unlatch from your clit, only to lick a long strip up your slit; the tip of his tongue flicking and pressing against your bundle of nerves, only to start flicking faster.

You let out gasps and whines, your hands pressing on the headboard for leverage as you flinched away from his face. Looking down only to see him looking back up at you with a glistening mouth and dark eyes. “Is it too much, princess?” He asked, his voice raspy. “You can take it, I know you can. Be a good girl for me.” You felt your clit pulse at how he spoke to you like he was in charge, it made the fuzziness deepen. You whimpered, nodding as you lower yourself back onto his awaiting mouth.

This time around you felt wetter than before, his tongue slipping and sliding across your flesh with ease. Feeling his lips suck and tongue flick had you seeing stars, you didn’t even know that you were grinding on his face until you looked down.

“Oh, I-I’m sorr-”, “Keep fucking using me.” Your lips parted at his grumbled words, but you did exactly what he told you to do. Grinding on his face, trying your best not to press too hard. But it was difficult to think with all the different sensations running around your form.

It felt like his lips were everywhere, you began to get lost in the feeling. Your moans grew a bit louder, not that Jisung minded. Maybe his roommates did, but he loved it.

 But what made tears start brimming was when you felt his tongue slide into your sopping entrance with ease. “Ji- w-what… fuck.” You whined, your pelvis moving faster against his tongue, no longer caring about how much of a mess you were making. “You’re… so good.” Jisung hummed at the praise you gave him, continuing to make you feel good. 

You reached down, your fingers raking through his locks as you pushed him closer into your heat. You haven’t looked down at him in a while, therefore you wouldn’t know that Jisung’s eyes were closed. Letting himself get lost in the taste of you, letting himself be used by you in the best way possible. All the while trying not cum untouched, your moans traveling like waves through his body, right down to his member.

You lurched forward, feeling pressure build up in your tummy, aching to be released. “Ji… I’m- oh…” your mouth parted with your eyes being screwed shut as you came, the climax being strong as it’s the first time you came in the hands of someone else.

Jisung's eyes snapped open to watch you, analyzing how you came undone above him; it was like heaven to him. While trying his best to Ignore how his dick fought against the material of his sweats in order to be relieved. He hummed against you, licking you clean as you slowly came down from your high. At that moment he swore you started glowing.

You gulped dryly, weakly scooting off his face and placing yourself back to the position of straddling, causing him to hiss at the contact of your middle pressing into his bulge. 

You felt small under his gaze, now comprehending that your best friend made you cum, the fuzziness weakening slightly. You bit your lip, reaching up to wipe his face that was slathered with your arousal. “Thank you…” you trailed off. You were only met with Jisung bucking into you, making you whimper quietly as he pushed deep into your sensitive area.

You watched with timidness as Jisung chuckled. “That’s enough for today, hm?” You frowned at his words. “No.” He raised an eyebrow lazily. His lips slightly parted as you scooted down to his upper thighs, your hand grabbing his bulge, stroking experimentally.

“Baby… you don’t have to.” He huffed, licking his lips as he watched the movements of your hand, now slowly unbuttoning his pants. “But I wanna.” You muttered. You gulped as you pulled his member out from his boxers, unknowingly licking your lips as you observed how painfully hard he was, lightly twitching at your gentle touch.

“You were just gonna let this go?” You asked, fingers stroking up and down his shaft. “I mean… yeah?” He sighed. His hands clutching your thighs. The fuzziness subsided, the only headspace you found yourself in was pure lust.

Jisung’s gaze was dazed as you lowered, your mouth now hovering over his tip before you looked up in question. “Tell me what to do.” Jisung couldn’t help but smile. Despite you being determined, you were still like a baby deer. His hand stroked your cheek as he told you to open wide, guiding his length between your lips as he grunted at the feeling.

“God, just stay still for a sec, please.” His voice sounded strained, like he was holding back. He was. The combination of you kissing him like he was your oxygen, you expressing to him how bad you’ve been wanting him, from having you use him for pleasure had him aching for release. He didn’t wanna tell you, but he was so sensitive, not having touched himself in a while due to his mind being too focused on other life events.

You tried your hardest to listen, and stay still for him. But feeling his tip pulse on your tongue was borderline torture. You couldn’t help but have your tongue run on the underside of his tip, playing with the small vein that made him suck in a breath. His hand transferred to your hair as he got a good grip.

“Y/n,” he grumbled in warning. Opening his eyes to see your mouth stuffed full of him, the sight making it even harder for him to keep himself tamed. “Start sucking baby.” He whispered, sitting up on the headboard a bit to get a better view of you.

You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking and licking, using your hands to stroke his shaft; remembering how your friends drunkenly taught you how to give oral.

You were too focused to recognize how his grip on your strands tightened, his groans getting louder. The only time you unfocused was when he bucked into your mouth causing you to gag. “O-oh I’m sorry,” he moves your hair out the way, apologizing softly. Your mouth slides off of him, “Use me like how I used you.” Jisung gulped at your words, watching as you continued to stroke his length. What happened to that cute headspace from earlier? Well it’s gone now, he didn’t mind.

“I don’t wanna hurt you princess…” he whispered. “Please Ji… please? I can take it.” His eyes softened as you pleaded. Of course he’ll give you what you want, “God, you’re killing me. I didn’t know you’d be so needy, hm?” he smiles as you whine in embarrassment. “Okay, okay. Be still baby, I’ll be gentle.” Jisung said softly, guiding you back to his dick. He hissed as you engulfed him once again. “If you need a break tap me 3 times, do you understand?” you hummed in approval. Jisung tilted his head, almost like he was preparing himself, trying to give himself a pep talk not to go too hard on your precious throat. 

He delivered a cautious thrust, observing how you reacted. His eyes widened as you took more of him down your throat. “Don’t push yourself.” He warned, of course, you ignored him, taking as much as you could of him. 

Jisung felt as if he was fighting for his life here. He never thought he’d be able to see you like this. Wanting to please him, but also use him in a way that made you feel fulfilled.

 Jisung soon realized that letting you do whatever you want at this moment was exactly how he should take care of you. You’re a big girl. You said it yourself, you can take it. Therefore, he started thrusting into your mouth. He still remained careful, not wanting to overwhelm you. But nevertheless, it felt amazing. Jisung threw his head back onto his pillow, his breath coming out in huffs as all he felt was your warmth sucking him in.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His mutters went straight to your heat, making you whimper as you felt his member slide in and out of your mouth with ease. The noises emitting from your throat were lewd, and he loved every sound of it. Jisung’s thrusts got a bit rougher, and his moans got louder. You didn’t care that your mascara began to run, it was worth it. The view in front of you was worthy of touching yourself to the memory later. Seeing your best friend's chest rise and fall rapidly as whines and moans filled the air made, Jisung’s hair in his face as his eyes were screwed shut, sweat forming at his temples. This made the experience all the more rewarding. 

Jisung gulped dryly as you swallowed around him. “Baby… I’m gonna cum, maybe y-you should g-get,” He could barely finish his sentences as he removed his grip from your hair. “If you don’t want it down your throat, g-get o-off.” Jisung stammered as he stopped thrusting, giving you leeway to get off of him. But you didn’t, instead, you took matters into your own hands. Sucking and stroking as you felt his member twitching on your tongue. “F- y/n…” Jisung gasped for air as he looked down at you, observing how focused you were on making him feel good. 

He bit his lip, muttering a warning “Fuck, I’m cumming.” before he finally came, shooting into your mouth as you flinched slightly at the impact. Your friends lied, it tasted like nothing.

 You continued to suck, milking him as his cum dribbled out of your mouth and back onto his member. You didn’t even know what overstimulation was but you seemed to be a master at it right now. Jisung’s head fell back as you continued sucking, your tongue tracing the underside of his tip as you wanted to catch every lick of him.

 His legs trembled as he grabbed ahold of your hair again, trying to pull you off. “Th-that’s en-ough baby, please.” he pleaded as he slid your mouth off him.

You sat up, straddling his thighs, watching silently as he tried to catch his breath. His cheeks were bright red and his hair tousled from moving around on his pillows.

Jisung let out a scoff, “I thought you never did that before, y/n?” You bit your lip at the subtle compliment. “Even going as far as to overstimulate me. Did you have fun, beautiful?” He asked. You nodded, “Can we do it again?” Jisung chuckled. “Just… give me a second, maybe a couple of hours.”

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

You wait for Minho at the same bar you visited with him before the wedding, back when you first presented the stupid plan to him. Sadly, you’re just as nervous as you were back then. In fact, you might be even more nervous this time, afraid of screwing things up, afraid of losing someone you actually can't imagine your life without. Sadly, it seems like you’re going to have to do just that, considering how you two left things off.

The morning after the wedding, after a long and sleepless night, you ran to Minho’s room just before breakfast, hoping to catch him before he walked downstairs and chatted with people, before he ran away to one of his walks or met up with Seoyoon. After all, it was the last full day on the island, and you just wanted to apologize to him in person. 

It felt like the morning sobered you up completely, shook you from your state of desperation, and made you realize you have to be honest with Minho. You had told him a long time ago you didn’t like to be vulnerable in front of other people, but you knew it was time to tell him everything and put yourself out there. 

When you got to his room, it was empty, the cleaning lady already getting rid of the bedsheets.

“I’m sorry, where is the guest from this room?”

“They left this morning,” she replied and picked the sheets up off the floor. “Do you need something? If you need towels, I’ll bring them to your room when I make the rounds.”

That was when you realized that Minho had left for good. He’d packed his bags and left in the wee hours of the morning, as told to you by Sunyoung’s grandma, who was an early riser and spent early mornings out at the beach. He left without a word, and that hurt you the most. Even flat-out rejection would have been better than no closure, but you overstepped his boundaries and mentioned a relationship after everything that happened, so you had it coming.

He told you not to mention your feelings for him, but you had to say something instead of pretending nothing happened, so you texted Minho that morning after crying about it in your room.

You: i see you left early. i get why and i’m sorry, really. 

He responded five days later, even though you weren’t expecting him to—Minho didn’t owe you a single thing.

Minho: just needed time away from everything

Minho: sorry

You: do you maybe want to meet up, have a drink one of these days?

Minho: friday?

After that, you agreed on the time and place, so you’re not sure what to expect tonight. Is he upset? Is he hurt? Does he think you’re not serious about any of it? Did he have enough time to think? You don’t know a thing. 

When your ex walks into the place, that same waitress gawks at him, and you can’t blame her this time either—the white button-up suits Minho perfectly, a couple of hair strands slightly curled in a way that makes him seem almost angelic, but his smile turns into a devilish smirk when his gaze meets yours.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” Minho asks the same stupid question again, and you know he’s going to follow up with something ridiculous as he sits down. “Surely not waiting for her ex to tell him she wants to be with him again!”

Minho laughs as if that’s the dumbest possible option, but his laughter dies down the second he realizes you’re not laughing, for a change. “Wait, w-what?” he stutters before gulping, eyes inspecting your entire face.

“You really have a way of ruining the moment,” you joke, hoping that will ease the tension that suddenly arises between you two, but it does little to help. “I thought that was just me.”

The waitress approaches and Minho orders two shots and a gin and tonic for himself once he realizes your glass is still full. “We’re gonna have to drink if we’re going there,” he informs you.

It should feel awkward, it should feel heart-wrenching, you should be anxious about getting turned down again, about this man telling you he’s had enough of your scheming, childish ways, that he’s fed up with being the second best option in your book—but none of that happens.

It can’t, not when it’s Minho you’re talking to, not when he’s doing everything he can to keep the conversation light. You don’t touch on the topic for a long while, not until you’re a couple of shots and drinks in, not before his hand is on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into it.

“About the thing you said…” he starts, letting his voice trail off before taking another sip of his drink. Even if you’re going to talk about something this serious, you can’t be nervous, not when his hand is on you, reminding you things are fine. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” you tell him, visibly confused, but Minho misses that because he’s staring right ahead as if he’s trying not to look at you. “I just feel that way.”

“With Chris, I mean,” he adds, clearing his throat right after, and you realize he doesn’t know anything. 

Your therapist is right—you haven’t been clear about what you want and how you feel and you’ve been too stubborn instead of just admitting early on that your plan was a mistake and that Chris could never make you feel the way Minho does.

“I don’t know,” you respond with a shrug, thinking about how to put what you feel into words. What happened with you and Chris? Nothing and everything. “I didn’t, uh… I mean— He knew what I was going to tell him, but I didn’t want to say a thing. I realized he was not exactly what I was looking for and my plan wasn’t to ruin the wedding. You were right, I was clinging onto something that wasn’t really there.”

Minho hums, seemingly happy with your response. “So Chris told you he’s going through with the wedding and all.”

“Yes, he did,” you agree instantly but then realize Minho might think that’s why you told him all those things that night—Chris told you no, so you hoped Minho would say yes. “But I didn’t try to stop it. I am actually happy for them.”

“Even though I don’t like the guy, I think they make a good couple,” Minho admits unwillingly. He finally sneaks a glance your way and once again, you feel like nothing can go wrong when he’s here with you. “Have you heard from him?”

“Not really. I’ve sent him a text thanking him for everything, but that’s about it.”

“And you aren’t… Jealous over his marriage? Hurt by it?” This time, your ex faces you, eyes inspecting you carefully. You realize he’s trying to figure out how serious you are about the whole thing, which includes you being hurt over Chris’s marriage, and you are just not.

“No, Minho, I’m not,” you respond right away, meaning it. “I don’t have any interest in him. I… I’m interested in you, like I’ve told you. I meant what I said.”

That’s why you’ve invited him here in the first place not even two weeks after coming back home from Chris’s wedding. You wanted to see Minho, talk to him, tell him you still feel the same way you did the night when you approached him. Maybe it’s too soon in his book, maybe he doesn’t want you that way, maybe he is just not interested, but you want Minho to know.

He hums again, downing his drink. “I’m glad you no longer think he’s the one,” Minho tells you with a grin. “He definitely isn’t.”

“I know. I want to apologize for eve—”

You get cut off by Minho’s lips on yours, his scent instantly engulfing you, making you forget what you even wanted to tell him. His hand makes its way to your chin so he can tilt your head whichever way he pleases as he kisses you, tongue now entering your mouth.

You don’t kiss people in bars, not unless you’re wasted and lost in the crowd, especially not with tongue since it makes the kiss hungry and intimate. But, it’s Minho and he’s the most mesmerizing person you’ve met, so you don’t really care.

Once he breaks the kiss, you sigh deeply, feeling your heart fluttering, but he speaks first. “We’re drunk again, so we should talk about serious things some other time. What do you think, pretty?”

His use of the nickname makes your heart swell. Unable to suppress a smile, you look to the side and nod. “What do you want to do then?”

Minho moves the hand that is resting on your thigh and finds your own with it. He grabs it and places it over his crotch, right on top of his hard cock, which makes you hiss. He’s just as straightforward as always, just as willing to take risks, just as good of a fuck as he always was. “Maybe take care of this for me? I’ll return the favor.”

That’s a deal you’d be stupid to pass on, even at the risk of another heartbreak. Because that’s what this is—Minho letting you down easy. Neither one of you is too drunk to have sex, so you’re not too drunk to have a conversation about you two. He clearly doesn’t want to touch on the topic because he'd have to turn you down, so he changed the topic to sex.

And you being you, you’d rather take that than just say goodbye right now. You can pretend it's sex without feelings just for the night.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Minho mumbles at you when your lips start playing with his neck, his dick entering you quickly.

Your back is pressed against the wall of your building hallway, and it’s pretty cold, but you don’t even register it. You can’t, not when Minho’s fucking you well, his fingers working your clit expertly at the same time. You can’t get enough of him all over again and even the scent and taste of his skin excites you—you run your tongue along the vein on his neck and enjoy the sound of him hissing, the way his hips start smacking into yours rougher.

“Me too,” you admit, taking a break from kissing his neck, even though you know that turns him on. You’re doing everything he wants tonight, everything. Even if you’re not the best at talking about feelings, evne if Minho doesn’t want to talk about them, you can at least show him what you feel. “Missed your dick, missed this, missed you.”

“Pretty, fuck,” he grunts, kicking his head back. The look on Minho’s face is something you want to see more often—his pretty features distorted in pleasure. “Don’t say that while I’m in you.”

“Why?” you ask through a chuckle, loving the effect you have on him, even if you’re both drunk and it doesn’t mean anything. “Like it too much?”

“I like it better when you’re good,” Minho mumbles the words at you with a scoff, speeding up the pace of his hips, his fingers still rubbing your clit just right. “You talk back too much… I should go harder on you, hm?”

“I’m always good, baby,” you coo, lifting your leg even more, using it to pull his waist closer to you. “And I know you love it when I tell you how much I like you.”

To shut you up, Minho kisses you, tongue roaming around your mouth desperately as moans leave him. It’s all so hot that you don’t even know where to look and touch. Instead if trying to decide, you relax and enjoy the touch of his hand paired with his hard cock and eager mouth.

It’s only been ten minutes of this, but you come over his dick, screaming as you do since Minho rubs you just right and doesn’t stop until you push his hand away, too afraid you’ll wake the neighbors up and have to stop fucking him even for a minute or two until you get to your apartment.

“See, you’re being good now,” Minho tells you as he breaks away from the kiss just to bite your lip. “My good pretty girl.”

He continues fucking you even after you come, standing right in front of you. This way, he has to look into your face and watch you make the whiniest faces out there while singing him praises. “Just like that, Minho… Give it to me. You’re doing so good, baby…”

“Nghh,” he grunts, closing his eyes before looking to the side. That’s when he speeds his movements up, acting a bit desperate—so unlike him. “Just take it!”

“And be quiet?” you suggest, chuckling before your mouth meets his neck again. “Baby, you know you don’t want me to be. Just enjoy it… You love being inside of me and giving me all of it. We both know it, so relax… Fuck me.”

Minho grunts and places your leg down on the floor. With ease, he pulls out of you and makes you pout. “Turn around,” he hisses at you, so you do as asked.

The very next second, he pushes your torso into the wall and pulls your hips towards himself so he can plow into you from behind, which you gladly let him do, completely forgetting about your decency in case anyone comes out of their apartment and catches you having loud, desperate sex in the hallway.

Minho shoves his cock into you swiftly, grunting in the process, stopping for a second when he bottoms out. “Perfect,” he mumbles, giving your ass a spank. “We’ll see if you’ll talk back now.”

With that, he starts fucking you as hard as he can, the way you two used to enjoy. You’ve spent so many nights getting railed into tomorrow on all fours or your legs, Minho right behind you, grabbing your ass and giving you his cock, not stopping when you came. Every time was like a marathon, with neither one of you feeling like you’d had enough.

“Not so loud now, huh?” Minho sounds happy with himself and he has every reason to be. His fingers dig into your hips, cock moving in and out, as he makes you moan quietly with every move he makes.

The angle is just right too, mostly because you’re sticking your ass out while your chest is pressed into the wall, hands holding onto it. Minho’s cock can just hit that spot over and over again until your thighs shake, which is exactly what is happening.

“That’s right,” he mumbles, talking more to himself than you at this point. Maybe he is drunker than you thought. “Love it when you’re so good for me and just take it… Let me fuck you rough where anyone could see… My little slut. Mine. Right, pretty?”

His words send shivers down your spine and into your crotch, walls clamping around him as you moan, “Just yours, Minho, baby, just yo—fuck, yours!” It feels like the good old days, when Minho would remind you that you were his every time he touched you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says cockily, smacking your ass again, this one a bit harder so it stings. But, you like this type of pain when it comes from Minho. “Been thinking about this all week.”

“Yeah?” 

You need to know more. Did he think about you the way you thought about him? Or is he just referring to sex? Either way, you’re similar. You’ve thought about it all with him—getting to touch him again, him being inside of you, getting to talk and cuddle and kiss. You didn’t really think you could miss a person after spending less than a week with them, but here you are, missing him now even though he is inside of you. Everything is eerily like it was back then, including this feeling of missing someone you have—only now you have him physically for the night only.

“Wanted to be in your pussy so badly,” Minho informs you, answering the question you’ve never asked out loud. “Needed to make you feel good again, pretty… Have you coming around me again…”

With every compliment and kind word he says, the grip your pussy has on Minho tightens, which tells him that’s the direction he should take if he wants you to come. So, he keeps them coming, careful to maintain the same pace. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grunts, sounding like he’s fighting off an orgasm of his own. “Ready to give me her little cunt whenever I get hard, just like back then, huh?”

You can’t even speak anymore, so you just hum in response and continue moaning, trying to not be as loud. But, the fear of getting caught by a neighbor is less prominent than the need to have him ruin you like he used to. “Y-yeah, yes—”

It’s true now and it was true back then—you can’t get enough of him. Whenever Minho wants you, he can have you, and that used to scare you a lot. To be fair, it still scares you because it’s irrational and goes against everything you believe in. You don’t think anyone should have that kind of power over you, make you get a bit stupid and forget all your boundaries, make you risk it all. Yet, Minho’s always had it, which made you run away from him. If he has the power to build you up and make you feel like you’re the only person that matters, what would happen if he just took it away? 

“Good, I know it…” Minho continues fucking into you so hard you can barely stand straight and doesn’t stop until you come hard. It’s even more intense than the last one but doesn’t last as long, which means you thankfully don’t make as much noise as you did earlier. “Yeah, baby, that’s right, just like that… Let me feel you.”

“Shit,” you grunt and kick your head back, trying to breathe in deeply, but it’s impossible with the way he’s fucking you.

“My turn,” he says with a chuckle, and your walls clench at his words. “Gonna fill your cunt right up, pretty… Want me to?”

You’re stupid tonight, all over again. Neither one of you had a condom, so you let Minho fuck you raw. He never fucks without a condom, though, that much you know, and neither do you. Protection over everything, even if you’re on birth control. Yet, here you two idiots are, fucking like you’re stupid.

You’re even dumber than him because you moan in response, “Yeah, give it to me.”

“Sure?” Minho sounds serious now, even though you’ve told him about birth control before he put his dick in you, not wanting him to think you’re careless and let men fuck you without protection.

“Don’t you want to give it to me?” you ask teasingly, squeezing your walls around his cock on purpose. It’s something you’ve talked about a lot back in the day, fantasized about, wanted to try. And here you are now, getting to try it years later, with each other. “Show me who owns me.”

And those are the magic words, as always. Minho’s never been jealous or possessive, or at least he’s never shown it. But, when you’re fucking, he likes hearing he’s the only one, that you belong to him, that he can do whatever he pleases with you. Those words always used to make him come hard back then, so you told him the same thing over and over again just to get him to go crazy on you. That’s exactly why you’re saying it now, and it’s why Minho starts fucking you even harder.

It feels like he’ll split you into two, but you love the intensity of it, the loud smacking of his firm thighs against the back of yours, the rough digging of his fingers into the skin of your hips, the loud hissing and humming that’s leaving his pretty mouth. “Oh God, I’ve never felt anything better!” 

Each compliment goes straight to your head. There is a difference between sex with and without condoms even for you, but you’re sure it feels a lot more different for Minho. He’s already muttering into the back of your neck, giving you compliment after compliment. “So good… Letting me use your pretty cunt to come—fuck!”

His arms wrap around your stomach, pull you in closer as his thrusts get more shallow. “Mhm, fuck, so wet, feel you so good like this… All mine. Gonna take my cum?”

“Yes, yes, Minho!” you mumble back, not wanting to speak. Instead,y ou just want to listen to him because hearing Minho get this lost in pleasure is overwhelming, exciting, pleasurable. 

“Here, take all of it… Show me how good you can be. Take it, pretty—”

When he comes, Minho doesn’t pull out right away. Instead, he stays lodged inside of you a bit longer, pulling your back into his chest so he can pepper kisses along your neck and collarbone. “God, pretty, you took it so well. I feel dizzy.” His touch is soft and gentle, and the contrast between this moment and everything that happened tonight is making your head spin in the best possible way. “This felt so much better than I thought it would.”

You feel a strange wetness between your legs, inside of you, and you know it’s his cum, but the feeling isn’t uncomfortable. You don’t have the need to go get rid of it as soon as possible, especially not when he’s still inside of you too, still hard, clearly enjoying every second of this newfound pleasure. 

When your breathing calms down, Minho pulls out gently, and you feel some of his cum spill out, trickling down your inner thigh. “Sorry, I made a mess, pretty,” he informs you as he smacks your ass lightly. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s fine,” you say, pulling your underwear back into place and turning around to face him. Minho looks different now—hair all over the place, face sweaty, breathing heavy. You never want to stop staring at him. “Let’s go clean up.”

The offer gets rejected quickly, leaving you to wonder if you fucked up. “I’m going to go home instead, okay? Thanks for tonight,” Minho tells you, leaning in for another kiss, this time a lot less passionate one. It’s a simple peck that lasts for a couple of seconds while he inhales deeply. “Be good, sleep well.”

“Wait, you don’t want to, uhm, stay with me?” You shouldn’t ask this when he’s already turned you down, you know, but something pushes you to ask, wanting to know more.

“I want to, but I shouldn’t,” Minho says as he takes a step back. “Neither one of us is thinking straight. It’s better not to give each other false hope.”

“False hope?” You suddenly feel cold, so you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling pain in your chest at the sight of Minho looking so disappointed. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should have this conversation sober,” he suggests, making you shudder. Minho is always, always honest with you, so you know what this means. He doesn't want to stay the night because you're just a fuck nowadays. A good fuck, but nothing more. How could you be after everything you've done to him? Unaware of the effect he has on you, Minho continues, “Let’s talk about it in a couple of weeks, when our heads clear. What do you say?”

“I—” 

You want to tell Minho no. You want to tell him you want him right here and right now, and that you’re not going back to your apartment alone, that you don’t want to let him go home alone. You don’t want to sleep in your bed and have him sleep in his on the other side of town if you could be sleeping together, side by side.

But, you remember that not everything is about you, as he so nicely put it. You can’t always get what you want and sacrifice other people’s feelings for your own. If he doesn't want to be with you, you'll have to accept it, no matter how much the thought hurts. “Whatever you need, Minho. Call me when you’re ready to talk. I’m here.”

“I know, pretty,” he says, reaching in to cup your face. His touch is still gentle and warm, and you unconsciously lean into his palm, wanting him to touch you some more and stop the hurt in your chest from spreading, but he doesn’t. “Have a good night.”

“Think of relationships as plants,” your therapist says, looking right at you with a smile. Is he making fun of you now?

“Plants?”

You don’t want to assume anything, but maybe Mr. Yoo has had enough of you rambling about Minho and the wedding and the insanity of this plan that failed miserably and is messing with you.

“Yes, plants,” he repeats and looks at you questioningly like you’re the one making weird conclusions. “You've had a plant before, I presume?”

You nod, and your therapist continues, “Great. Then you'll know how difficult it is to create perfect conditions for the plant to survive. You have to find just the right amount of water for it. You give too much and your plant dies. You give too little and the plant dies. But just enough? It flourishes. You also have to remove the dead leaves, pay attention that it is in the sun or in the shade, that the temperature is right. It's so much more than just buying a plant and watering it here and there, wouldn't you agree?”

You managed to kill three plants and a cactus before you called it a day and stopped trying, so you nod at him again. Whenever they'd die, you'd feel terrible. But, what's that got to go with relationships? “And relationships?”

“Relationships are like plants. Every person is different, there's no cheat sheet for the perfect relationship. One person likes affection, the other dislikes it. One person needs sex for the relationship to be satisfactory, someone else doesn't find it a priority. We all have certain things we look for in relationships and things we are willing to give. But, we are also in charge of creating conditions for our partners. These conditions are the things you offer and they usually the same in every relationship you have: love, support, comfort, understanding, sex, kindness… You give more of some, less of others.”

Weirdly, that makes sense. Even when you followed the instructions to a tee, your plants would die. Maybe you didn’t care for them enough, maybe you let them out in direct sunlight for a minute too long, maybe you gave them just a tiny bit more water than necessary and they died.

Your therapist continues, realizing he has your undivided attention. “Even if you give it your all to create perfect conditions for it, your plant might wither and die, but that's the only point of your plant's life you can control—these conditions. You can't control how the plant reacts to them or whether they help her grow. It's the same with relationships. You can want it to work out more than you've ever wanted anything, but it could fail.”

His words instantly take you to Minho and how much you wanted and still want you two to work. He is what you want. You don’t care how much time has passed since you were last with him, you’re sure he hasn’t changed that much, not when it comes to important things. He’s still caring and kind and understanding, and that’s the type of partner you need.

Mr. Yoo clears his throat and gives you a sympathetic smile. “But, if you've given it your all and created the perfect conditions, then it's a lot easier to accept the ending, isn't it? You've done it all, but the other person wanted different conditions, ones you simply can't offer. Giving it your best is the only thing you can do. Your ex, Minho… You've mastered the watering, I presume. You seemed to have given him enough of what he needed to stay. If you want to start a relationship with him again, you'll have to put yourself out there and offer what you can.”

Can you do that? You think so. You want to be the best version of yourself again, and the only time you felt that way was when you were with him. Minho didn’t ask you to change or try to change you, you just became… Softer. More caring. More selfless. He was all those things, even if only certain people got to see that side of him. It rubbed off on you.

“That's the only thing you can do for the other person and the relationship. Create your conditions, something you're comfortable with. You have to be careful not to create the conditions you think the other person wants, but the ones you are comfortable with giving. Let's say your plant needs more water than you have. If you keep getting more and more water, carrying it, making plans to get it, watering your plant more than you thought you would, you'll have to stop eventually. In this scenario in a relationship, you'll become overburdened with your care for the partner and give more than you have, leaving you emotionally drained. You might also come to resent them, but you're the one who offered them conditions you knew you couldn't handle to begin with.”

It makes perfect sense, this analogy of Mr. Yoo’s. You’ve seen this scenario around you more times than you can count—your friends trying to be exactly what their partners need instead of just being themselves and offering what they can. They went from being just like you—having a job, hobbies, cooking and cleaning when they could—to being the new-age version of housewives because they thought that was needed of them. One of them ended up breaking down and ending the relationship and the other was still stuck in this circle of playing a housewife and then coming to work bitter about her husband and the fact that she has to be this version of herself she really isn’t, work and cook and clean and mother the guy who’s supposed to be her equal.

“You seem very loving,” he continues, stirring you from your thoughts. “I think you might give a lot of love in relationships, when you get to that point, which takes a long time. If Minho were different, he would possibly find the love suffocating. If you were different, you'd give less of it and he'd leave. What was your biggest problem in that relationship? I'm talking about the past, not about the trip.”

What was it? Minho thinks it was Chris. Sometimes, it feels like your ex sees Chris as the big mastermind behind the break up, when the reality is much different. “Our biggest problem? Me.”

“You?” Mr. Yoo seems interested in this confession.

“Me,” you easily confirm, knowing it’s true. “I think being with me wasn't easy for him. You're right, I was loving and I think that's what Minho liked about the relationship. He doesn't come from a family that expresses love through words and physical touch. It's more of an act of service type of family, which is great, but I think he needed more. I could give that to him, but I had a lot of flaws to deal with. I know I still do, but I was even worse back then. My insecurity is what ruins it all.”

“Insecurity?”

“Yes. It was worse back then. I thought he was just too good for me, that I had nothing to offer and that it was just a matter of time before he figured it out.” It isn’t easy to admit this because the thought still hurts. When you talk about it, you remember the tight feeling in your chest whenever you two would argue, whenever you’d think Minho was about to break up with you, whenever you’d realize the fighting was pushing him away. After every fight, you’d go home thinking you were ruining this one good thing you had, the best thing you had, and that Minho was better off without you. That’s why you never went to him, never apologized first, never asked him to forgive you—a part of you was expecting him to just give up. 

“Even though you felt loved?” The cocked-up eyebrow tells you Mr. Yoo is questioning you. It doesn’t make sense, you know. You thought Minho was going to dump you any chance he could yet you also felt very loved and cared for when you were with him.

“I… Yes. It's irrational. But it got a lot better thanks to him.”

That’s the truth, and everyone—including Minho—knows it. You went from being a timid person to someone who could let herself loose when with him because Minho brought out the best in you. He made you do things that you’d never do on your own and it helped you realize nothing bad would happen if you just did what you wanted and acted like no one was watching.

Mr. Yoo hums as if he understands. “But it still ruined the relationship.”

“Yes,” you have to admit. You’re once again contradicting yourself—you just said you got more confident with Minho but that you broke up with him because of insecurity. “I caused fights because I turned everything into something that it wasn't because I was just looking for reasons for him to break up with me.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“It was. In the end I just knew he deserved better than me, especially since I was so insecure about everything and making his life a mess.”

That is the truth—you started seeing a lot of your mother and father in yourself when you two would argue. You would get stubborn and fight for something you didn’t really stand for, just so the other person wouldn’t win. In your case, it wasn’t that you didn’t want Minho to win—you just didn’t want to admit that he knew you better than anyone else did, that he understood you more than you understood yourself at times.

“Did he agree with that?” Mr. Yoo asks. “Did Minho think you were making his life worse?”

You replay the conversation from that night in your head, the night it all ended back then. You can hear it as if it’s happening right now, as if a drunk and hurt Minho is on the other line, voice trembling as he speaks to you. Your insecurity is the reason for most of these problems. You don't think you're good enough for me or for a relationship like this or for real feelings. I don't know how to fix this. You seem so unhappy with me whenever we fight. Do you think you have to be the center of my attention 24/7 for it to mean I love you?

You can still remember every single thing he said during that conversation—and all of them were true. The one that hurt the most was that he didn’t think you cared about his feelings, and he expressed the same sentiment the night of the wedding too, reminding you of how terrible you acted back then and even now, years later, when you should be wiser and more mature. 

Your eyes water and Mr. Yoo hums. “Take your time,” he tells you, smiling softly. “We’ve dug into the past a lot, it’s only natural we’re uncovering some hurtful things.”

You nod and take a couple of deep breaths, fighting off the tears. “He didn't agree. He thought my insecurity was causing me to make up problems and start fights, even if he tried not to give me any reason to doubt his intentions,” you admit with a sniffle, looking to the side. “Minho didn't know how to help with that.”

“That's understandable,” Mr. Yoo quickly adds. “He’s your partner—well, was, and not your therapist. He did what he could do to help, created the conditions to make you stay, but they didn't work for you back then. Do they now?”

Do they? Do you want what Minho has to offer?

“I… I think they do. We haven't given it a real shot this time around, not even close, but just being with him—” You sigh, realizing you're getting carried away. You can’t sit here and talk about your feelings for Minho for hours, not these feelings. Mr. Yoo clearly realizes you are crazy about the guy, you don’t have to describe just how much. “I'd love to be with him again.”

Your therapist scribbles something down and then looks back at you with a smile. “And why aren't you?”

“He left without a word,” you explain, feeling shame about how things ended. “He left the night of the wedding and he left the last time I saw him.”

“Without a word?” Mr. Yoo’s eyes narrow as he glances at you. “It sounded to me like Minho talked to you about his feelings two nights in a row, explaining them pretty clearly back at the island. He also said things before he left that night when you two met each other after the wedding.”

“I…”  You gulp, unsure of what he means. You don’t think any of the things Minho said are conclusive. “He told me we'd talk about it sober and then left. Then when we saw each other, he decided to drink but then said we shouldn’t talk about it drunk.”

“Well, if I remember correctly, he told you you’d discuss your relationship sober before you started talking about feelings again after he asked you not to. He set a boundary, asked you to respect it with the promise of talking about it tomorrow, but you ignored the boundary.”

Did you do that? You feel terrible just thinking about it. You know all about boundaries and how important it is to set them. It’s just as important to notice when people overstep them without caring about your feelings—Mr. Yoo has explained this many times.

“I didn’t— I guess I didn’t see it that way then. I was drunk and hurt and afraid of losing him, so I just wanted to tell him how I felt. Minho still thought I had feelings for Chris and I just didn’t want to—” You stop, taking a deep breath to stop yourself from crying. “I didn’t want him to go to his room and be all alone and think I was just saying things because I was hurt over Chris. Minho, he… He… When he’s hurt, he doesn’t show it, doesn’t want to bother people with it, thinks it’s a bother. But he’d let me hold him and comfort him. Well, he did back then. He wouldn’t want to talk about it, but he would let me hug him. I was hoping he would stay so I could comfort him like he comforted me during that entire trip.”

Even if everyone sees Minho as a carefree guy who rarely gets hurt, you know the truth is much different than that. You’ve been the person he turned to in times of need many times before, and you know what he needs when he’s hurt. The thought of him going to his room upset and alone that night does hurt, mostly because you know you’re the reason for it. If you hadn’t opened your mouth and started talking about feelings, you could have had fun all night, could have slept next to each other, could have woken up the same way, and Minho would have stayed.

“Ah!” Mr. Yoo hums knowingly, nodding at you a time or two. “And why didn’t you just tell him this?”

“How can I say it without pushing the subject even further?” you contradict your therapist for the first time. Minho had asked you to drop it, and you asking him to stay so you could comfort him would sound… strange.

“You clearly noticed he was hurt. You could have offered a hug or asked him what you could do to help him feel better. A lot of these scenarios are in your head. You come up with conclusions and base your response off of these conclusions instead of listening to what the other person is saying.”

“What do you mean? I mean, I’m sure you’re right, I just don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Let me think of an example. Minho said he could separate sex from feelings. Instantly, you thought that meant he didn’t care about you and that you were just sex to him, so you accused him of only caring about sex. His statement doesn’t imply that at all. It just means he is a man capable of having sex without feelings. You know he has feelings for you. If he were capable of not feeling a thing for you, the thing with that lady never would have happened. Right?”

Mr. Yoo is right once again. If Minho felt nothing for you, he would have been able to sleep with Sunyoung and forget you existed. You feel embarrassed about the whole thing yet again. 

“You are right about that. I do jump to conclusions because it’s easier for me to believe that it means something negative than that the person is fighting to be with me. That’s why him leaving hurt. I thought Minho would turn me down and tell me I’m just sex to him, but he didn’t. He told me I am selfish, which I am, that I need to think about him, which I did, and then he left without a word. If he wants to be with me, why would he do that?”

Mr. Yoo puts down his pen, intertwines his fingers and looks at you with a smile that lets you know you’re about to get hit with some cold hard truth. But, that’s why you’re seeing him in the first place. He’s an unbiased third party. 

“I don't know if he wants this relationship or not. I'm here to help you deal with feelings. But, let's imagine you're Minho. He broke up with you years ago, possibly because of a friend he might have had feelings for. Now, he calls you to help him win her over during her wedding week. You think the idea is crazy but you accept it for old times’ sake. You don't want Minho to get hurt, and it's easier if you're there with him if things go south.”

You try to imagine the scenario in your head. Instead of a friend of Minho’s, you imagine Seoyoon with that look she had on her face when she flirted with him at the party. The scenario instantly hurts a bit more.

“But the first time you two see each other in years, you sleep together. Sparks are flying, things feel like they used to, but you wake up alone in your bed—no sign or word from Minho. Still, you go on this trip with your ex and end up spending more time with him, having fun, acting like nothing has changed. And then, you spend a great day together. Even though she's there, Minho only has eyes for you.”

You know Mr. Yoo is referring to that day at the pool, the day you realized you haven’t looked at anyone else the way you looked at Minho, that you haven’t had that type of connection with anyone, no matter how many guys you met, how many dates you’ve been on, how many chances you’ve given. You remember the pool and how he held onto your hand and how you flirted with him shamelessly, kissing him in front of everyone.

Mr. Yoo goes on, “He asks you to sleep with him again, so you do, and it all feels like it used to. You tell each other many intimate things, act like nothing has changed, but you wake up alone again. The next time you hear from Minho, he asks you to join the two of them on a walk, reminding you why he's there. It’s not to be with you—it’s to win his friend over, and you’re just a pawn in his plan, a person he is using to make the friend jealous.”

Your chest tightens at these words because that’s exactly what your initial plan was—use Minho, the ex that Chris couldn’t stand, to win him over. But that was before you slept with Minho, before you realized the chemistry was there, before you noticed he looked at you tenderly and still treated you like he cared about you.

“You realize that maybe you can't do all of this. You don't want to attend the party and watch the two of them together, but Minho promises he’ll be with you. He ends up spending time with everyone else. You decide to try to take your mind off things with someone else, but your mind isn't in it. You tell him you think his plan sucks and that you two worked better, that he's just fooling himself and that he'll get hurt. You also remind him he broke his promise to you and treated you unfairly. Tomorrow, she gets married, he's heartbroken, and gets in your bed again, suddenly deciding he wants to be with you. How would you feel?”

The second time you meet a man at that same bar, you feel like there’s a huge ball of anxiety in your stomach, waiting to burst at any time. Jisung is early, of course, and he gives you an unenthusiastic wave when he sees you walk in.

When you approach the table, he gets up and gives you a slight nod. You engage in meaningless chit-chat until your drink arrives, and you gulp it down almost instantly, knowing he’s not here to be your friend. Whatever Jisung has in mind probably won’t be pretty or good for you.

“So,” he clears his throat and gives you a questioning look, “Minho, huh?”

“Huh,” you respond with a sigh. “What is this about, exactly?”

“Minho, of course,” Jisung says, giving you a weird look. “I sure as hell didn’t invite you here to spend time with you.”

“Then maybe I should get going,” you suggest, put off by the hostility.

You understand that you’re not his favorite person, but you’re not your own favorite person at the moment either, and hearing how much you suck from someone else isn’t going to help. You feel like shit as it is. You miss Minho, you’ve fucked the entire thing up, you’re a bad person—you know it already. Mr. Yoo has all but said it and he keeps making you revisit your past and realize how selfish you really are whenever you see him. So, you don’t need Jisung to give you a lecture right now, you really don’t.

“No,” Jisung says firmly, lifting both hands in the air in defense. “Sorry. I mean… Let’s just talk about Minho.”

“What do you want to talk about?” you ask, unsure of where he’s going with this. He’s the last person you expected to contact you. “About how much I suck and we shouldn’t be together?”

“I…” Jisung sighs, pausing to just look at you with a faint smile. “That’s not what I think. I think you guys can be good together. I’ve seen you be great together. I’ve seen him very happy with you.”

You nod slowly, for some reason feeling pain over this. It’s stupid to blame yourself for dumb decisions you made years ago, including letting go of Minho and not fighting for him after an argument like he’s fought for you. It’s stupid, but it’s what you’ve been doing since you came back home from the wedding. “But?”

“Do you still have feelings for Chris?” Jisung cuts straight to the point with a glare. He’s always been like this when it comes to Minho—loud, protective, unashamed—which is why you always told Minho Jisung is the best friend he has. Yeah, you were never his favorite person, but Minho was, and he was the only friend that always acted with Minho’s best interest in mind. That's why he was your favorite friend of Minho's, even if he hated you. “Please, don’t bullshit me.”

“I think of him as a friend only. And not even a close one anymore,” you admit right away, at peace with your feelings, for a change. You've had plenty of time to think about everything, to talk it through with your therapist, to figure shit out. “It was all a big mistake on my end.”

“But you, uh, spent a week with Minho chasing Chris,” Jisung counters, seeing right through the bullshit. Minho has probably filled him in on everything. “How come you’ve changed your mind so fast?”

“Han, I feel like these are things I should be telling him, and not you,” you practically whisper at him, noticing the frown on his face at your words. “But I get that you want the best for him and think I can manipulate him into this. So. I went into this thinking I had to be with Chris because he’s the one that got away.”

“Okay.” Jisung nods, leaning back into his chair and giving you his undivided attention. “Go on.”

“All these years, I felt he loved me unconditionally back then. I could always count on him to have my back and take my side and be there when I needed him,” you go on, feeling dumber with every word. How come you didn’t see any of this back then? You liked Chris because he never fought with you, and you thought a good relationship meant no arguing—it had to be the opposite of what your parents had. “But, after, uh, Minho and I met and things got out of control, I started to think a lot more about him, and less about Chris.”

“Hm!” Jisung hums triumphantly. “Sorry, continue.”

“The more time we spent there, the more I saw it would never work with Chris and that it does work with Minho. We are still on the same page about everything, Minho and I. And… He was right. I feel a weird type of thing for Chris, but it’s not sexual at all. It’s something that might have been, but never will be. And with him, it’s all of that combined,” you admit, feeling blood rush to your cheeks at this admission. It’s more than you’ve even admitted to yourself. That’s exactly what it is—you have it all with Minho: feelings, security, sex, comfort. Even the arguments aren’t bad because they make you come to a conclusion, make you realize what you’re doing wrong, what you need to work on. “It sounds pathetic.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jisung says, reaching out to place your hand over his and pat it, which is surprising. But, you know he’s not a bad person just because he doesn’t like you—you wouldn’t like you either if you were him. “It sounds… Reasonable. Your chemistry was always wild. Do you now think he’s the one that got away?”

“No,” you admit without batting an eye. “It’s not like that. I think the whole ‘the one that got away’ thing is stupid, honestly. It’s just chances you didn’t take. And I’m not sorry we broke up back then because I clearly wasn’t a good girlfriend to him, and Minho deserved better. It happened for a reason. It’s taken me years, but I now know how to appreciate someone like him.”

“Good, you should,” his friend adds with a grin. “He’s a good guy. And if anyone loves you unconditionally, as you put it, it’s that dude. I would have been done with you a long time ago.”

“Good thing we hate each other,” you quip, making him chuckle. 

You do appreciate Jisung’s words, though, because he is someone who looks at you objectively. His feelings don’t get in the way like Minho’s do when he excuses your behavior. Jisung doesn’t excuse anything, so if he says this, it must be true.

“Good thing!” he agrees, eyes lingering on your face. Even if he dislikes you, you think Jisung is a great friend to Minho because he’s walked all over his personal feelings and is here wanting to find out more.

“Is that what you wanted to hear or is there more? Why am I here?”

“I just wanted to hear it from you. He’s told me you two talked and that he’s thinking about being with you again, and I just wanted to hear it from your mouth,” Jisung explains, but you zone out for a second because your heart springs up at his words. Minho’s thinking about being with you again? “You clearly have some kind of a spell on him since he never thinks straight around you. I just don’t want him to get screwed over again, he’s a great guy and definitely doesn’t deserve to have someone play with his feelings.”

“I’m not playing with him, trust me, Han,” you say earnestly, hoping he knows it. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone, let alone him. Minho… He is great for me. And I hope he thinks I’m great for him too. I want it to work, and that has nothing to do with Chris. The day after the wedding, I cried because Minho left and not because Chris got married. I didn’t even think of the dude all this time if I’m being honest. He's found happiness, and that's great.”

“Good, that’s a good sign,” Jisung agrees warmly, for a change. “Maybe you should tell Minho all this when he gets here.”

And come there, he does, a smile washing over his face the second he sees you and Jisung waving at him a couple of minutes later. You almost expected him to turn around on his heel and leave when he sees you, but he doesn’t.

“Are you guys plotting against me?” Minho says as he walks over to the table and sits down next to you, his thigh brushing against yours, which makes you shiver. It all feels like it used to—you being excited to see him, getting shivers at the smallest touch, your eyes following Minho from the second he walks into the room. “It’s so weird seeing you two get along.”

“Ms. My Best Friend’s Wedding and I get along just fine when we have a common goal,” Jisung explains, patting Minho’s shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have plans.”

“Plans?” Minho asks, clearly confused as to why his friend is already leaving. “What do you mean? I just got here, you invited me.”

“Being the third wheel isn’t that appealing. Besides, I didn't invite you here to be your marriage counselor, you can sort that out yourselves,” Jisung jokes, but neither one of you laughs because it touches on a topic too close to home. “And I think it’s time you do that. You both look miserable. See you soon!”

Before either one of you can protest, Jisung is out the door, and Minho is smiling at you.

“It’s nice to see you,” he tells you warmly. The last time you saw each other, Minho was kind but it seemed like he wasn’t ready to talk to you, didn’t want you to manipulate him into staying or talking about a topic he couldn’t discuss back then. Right now, you don’t have that type of feeling when you look at your ex.

“It’s great to see you too,” you admit, aware of the waitress approaching your table. “You look… Pretty.”

Minho smiles at the compliment and orders you both non-alcoholic drinks, for a change, and the second the waitress turns around, he pulls you in for a hug, taking a deep breath. His hand is holding the back of your neck, the other caressing your back gently, and you don’t ever want to pull away.

The hug is unexpected but very welcomed because you’ve been craving his touch since that night, and not sexually. You’ve cried about him a lot and wished he was there with you—if not as a boyfriend, then at least as a friend. Now he’s giving you exactly what you wanted, and you never want to let go.

“You’re getting all sappy on me,” you tease when he finally pulls away. “Should I be worried?”

“You’re spending time with Jisung… Should I be worried?” he teases right back, reminding you of how fun your dynamic actually is—always was.

“I just wanted to see what he wanted from me,” you explain. “He is your friend, after all.”

“Did you find out what he wanted or have I interrupted you?” Minho leans into his seat, wrapping an arm around your shoulders like it’s supposed to be there. That’s how it feels for you too.

“I did,” you tell him with a smile. “He was just looking out for you. I think you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself, though.”

“Maybe not when it comes to you,” Minho admits, tonguing his cheek. However, his tone is playful, and so is his smirk. “Have you thought about it?”

“It?” you repeat, unsure of what exactly he wants to touch on tonight. Minho is not the one who wanted you here—it was all Jisung’s doing. Maybe your ex doesn’t want to talk to you about anything important at all. You’re just here at the same bar, left by his friend who ran off somewhere more fun.

“Us,” he clarifies, effectively putting an end to all your little theories. Oh. So, it seems like Minho is ready to talk about it tonight of all nights, when you’re completely blindsided and unprepared. Still, your heart starts beating faster.

“What’s there to think about?” you quip, taking him by surprise. “I still feel the same way I did at the wedding. I want you.”

“Hm,” he hums and nods, taking some time to think about what you said. You’re sure he’s trying to find a flaw with this line of thinking or come up with something snarky to say.

So, you hit your ex with a question of your own, tired of waiting and feeling the knots in your stomach tighten like you’re on a first date with a stranger and not on a non-date with an ex. “Have you?”

“I have,” Minho tells you sweetly, moving his hand away from your shoulder as the waitress approaches.

Once she leaves, you look at him questioningly, waiting for him to continue. Minho hasn’t spoken to you since the last time you two met each other at the bar, since he turned down your invitation to come in, since he bailed on you.

He wanted time, and you gave it to him. You didn’t reach out either, didn’t pressure him—you were trying to put him and his wishes first, and forget about what you wanted. So, you let Minho start the conversation and explain his feelings, even if it will end up hurting you.

“It’s been over two months since we last saw each other,” he tells you slowly as if you needed a reminder, “so I’m guessing you’re serious about it. I mean, are you?”

“I am. I don’t want to compare this between us with Chris or any other guy I’ve been with,” you explain, noting the grimace Minho makes at the mention of the guy he doesn’t particularly like. “But I have compared it to everything. And like you’ve said, that was the last time someone cared about me. It was also the last time I cared for someone that much, too. I’ve been looking for that with someone else, but they’re never, uh… You. If you understand what I mean.”

“I do,” Minho agrees. “I don’t like the comparisons to other people, though. I guess I’ve seen you jealous over Chris and it ru—”

It’s rude to interrupt others. Besides, Mr. Yoo told you that you have to take the time to listen to what the other person has to say, but you have to interrupt this time. “I wasn’t jealous of Sunyoung or their relationship or anything like that.”

“You sure about that, pretty?” Minho smirks, resting his elbow on the table and propping his cheek up on his palm.

“Positive,” you spit the word out with a joking glare. “I’m not really a jealous person when I think about it. I’ve never once thought about Chris and Sunyoung that way.”

Minho nods, but it seems like he doesn’t believe you. Then, you suddenly chuckle, trying to suppress it, and he asks you what’s going on in your pretty little head.

“I just realized I lied to you. I did get jealous during the trip,” you admit. It was a childish moment, one that made you rethink the whole thing, one that planted a big seed of doubt in your brain. “It was about you.”

“Me?” he asks, excitement written all over his face. “Do tell. My ego’s kind of bruised, I could do with a compliment or two.”

You know it’s a joke, but Minho does look a bit worried, and you’re sure Jisung wouldn’t be calling you to meet up with him if his friend was doing amazing. The worst part about it is that you know you’re the reason for it. He was fine before the trip, fine before you made a mess of his life, fine before you crossed the line. Chris never said a bad thing to Minho, and neither did Sunyoung during the trip, so it was you. It is solely your fault he has any kind of ego problems now.

So, you reach out and rub Minho’s cheek gently like you’re supposed to be doing that at a bar. “Your ego would be unbearable if you knew how many good things I think of you, Minho.”

He gulps at the compliment, eyes glazing as he looks at you, taking your features in. Usually, Minho would laugh at your compliment, take it as a joke, making one of his own. But now, he doesn’t—he just looks at you.

For a second, you think he’ll kiss you. That doesn’t happen, so you go on, moving your hand away from his face. “Anyway… It’s not what you think. I was actually jealous when I thought about you going into a pool with some other woman.”

Finally, Minho laughs, kicking his head back like you’ve said the funniest thing ever. “That’s what worries you? You’re not jealous when you think I could fuck around or something like that, but swimming!?”

“The thing with Seoyoon… You had every right to do it,” you admit, even if it hurts. “But no, that’s not what worries me. You can have sex with a lot of people. I know you, and you don’t really let people in, especially not that much. So if you let someone else in to that extent, it would mean you care for them. And that’s what I’m jealous of.”

“Listen, pretty, you’re still the only person who’s ever gotten me to willingly enter a body of water and enjoy it,” he teases you, nudging you gently. You can tell he’s slightly uncomfortable with the topic, but you know he won’t change it. Minho doesn’t work like that. He’s there even when it’s difficult. “I’ve tried to find someone better than you after we broke up. I really have. Nothing feels as real. We’re both kind of fucked up, but it works.”

“Will you ever be able to forgive me, though?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for weeks now, your breath hitching in your throat as you wait for him to say something back.

Minho grimaces and shakes his head. “What do you think I should forgive?”

He shouldn’t have asked that question. It’s like a dam breaks, and you just start listing everything you think you’ve done wrong in the years you’ve known Minho.

“I let us break up over something stupid. I let Chris and other people influence my decisions. I let you go. I hated being without you, and when I found out you were sad too, I just felt even worse. I can’t believe I hurt you. And then, I invited you to the wedding with me and slept with you. I didn't even check if you were okay, if having sex changed something, if you were still okay with the whole thing… And then everything at the wedding— It’s just a mess and I’m ashamed. I should have told you how I felt the second I was sure of it instead of being too proud and stubborn. I’m sorry for all of that.”

“Hey, pretty,” Minho reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, “stop it. All of those things you’ve listed? They take two people. The timing wasn’t right back then, even if we got along well. I could have called too. I could have fought a bit harder. I slept with you too and I didn’t even think how that would affect you, right? Maybe I should have rejected you any of those three times because it was clear you were confused about Chris and your feelings.”

What your ex is saying makes sense, but you still don’t think any of it is his fault. “I initiated every time,” you point out. You just wanted him and didn’t want to admit that to yourself or him back then because you were stuck on this silly little idea you had. “You had a choice, but I was the one who pushed for it, so don’t feel bad.” 

“Yeah, but I did have a choice. I could have said no, but I didn't because I was a bit selfish and wanted you for myself. And then I’d just instantly get reminded that you’re there for a reason, to be with Chris, and I… Tried to make it better with Seoyoon…” He scoffs, not looking away even if you can tell he’s uncomfortable. Minho frowns, closing his eyes for a second as he sighs, regret written all over his face. “I shouldn’t have done that to her or you because my mind wasn’t in it at all. I just kept thinking about you and how stupid I was to sleep with you again when I knew you were there for him. And the wedding… You did nothing wrong. You were a bit selfish, but I always let you get away with it, so I can’t blame you.”

“I was, and I’m sorry,” you apologize again. You’ve talked to your therapist about Minho and what you’ve done so many times, asking for a session whenever he had an opening just to have a third party listen and understand and help you get your thoughts in order. Now that you feel like some things are clearer, you want him to know too. “I shouldn’t have pushed or ignored you or acted like you weren’t there just because I was too stubborn to admit that I want you back. I’m really sorry you felt bad because of me, I feel terrible about that. It’s all stupid because my favorite memory of the trip is that day at the pool with you.”

Minho chuckles lightly. “I thought you were going to say it was the great sex we had at the wedding, but okay…”

You smack his thigh playfully but can’t help grinning. “That was good too, but you did leave and I felt bad afterward, so…”

“Then I should apologize too.”

“No, you shou—”

“No, no,” Minho lifts a finger and grins at you, “I should. If you care about someone, you can’t just walk out on them. And I did it twice now. I’m ashamed of that, it’s not how I should act.”

“You had every right to leave, though,” you admit, even though it’s hard to say out loud. “I bailed on you twice, too, and didn't even mention the sex after. It's because the first time we did it made me think about us, and I was so… confused.”

“Confused?” He hums questioningly, the look on his face still warm. You feel like this is the right moment for this conversation—neither one of you is drunk or trying to lie or run away from it, no matter how awkward and real this is. 

“It all felt so… Real. When you kissed me, I felt like I’ve been missing it for years. And the sex, I mean, it’s great, but just the way we still work well together and laugh and have fun even if we haven’t been close in years is… It scared me. I had this really stupid plan for this wedding, but when I woke up to you that morning after we saw each other here, I just got so scared, Minho.”

“What scared you, pretty?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows, his fingers gently grazing your back as if he’s trying to calm you down.

“Feelings,” you readily admit, knowing Minho deserves to hear it from you. It’s the truth, it’s what you admitted to your therapist, what you ran away from, why you didn’t even mention you two hooked up when you saw him at the airport, why you wanted to prove so badly that Chris was the one for you. “I woke up in your bed and— I usually don’t stay the night, I don’t like waking up or sleeping next to people, I hate the feeling of waking up in someone’s bed and remembering what happened before, but none of that happened with you. I woke up next to you and just wanted to stay, which I felt was irrational and stupid. I lay there thinking nothing had changed between us, even if we spent years apart. So I left. I bailed. You had every right to do the same to me.”

Minho keeps nodding as you speak, listening to every word. When you’re done, he pats your back. “Yeah, you did bail, but I'm not here to break even and try to let you get a taste of your own medicine,” Minho explains, proving once again that he’s the more mature one here. “It's not how I want us to work. I shouldn’t have left.”

Your heart starts beating louder when he uses the word us. Despite that, you take a deep breath, and don’t address it. There are things you need to explain first. “I was being pushy, though. You never promised more than sex, and I was trying to talk you into it, which was selfish, and you were completely right. What was the other option, stay there and listen to me talk about how I feel about you? It wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“Pretty, it’s not that I didn’t want to hear it.” He leans in, his breath fanning your face. “It’s just that I wanted you to be sober and completely sure of what you were saying, without all these feelings for Chris confusing you. You act on impulse often. Granted, not when it comes to important things, but I just… I didn't want you to change your mind about me as fast as you did about Chris.”

“I get that and I shouldn’t have tried to talk you into something serious that fast,” you say with a nod. You were trying to get Minho to say serious things, to commit to something with a woman who’s just been let down. Well, at least from his perspective. “But, Minho, I’m sober now. I’m not let down or hurt about the wedding at all. In fact, I have no feelings for Chris, other than friendly ones.”

You can swear Minho’s voice quivers when he asks, “And for me?”

It doesn’t take you long to answer, mostly because he looks like he’s on pins and needles while he waits for you to say something. “I have a lot of feelings for you, Minho. I haven’t had most of them for anyone else.”

His eyes meet yours for a second or two, but long enough for you to see softness in the way he looks at you, in the way the corners of his mouth move upwards as he fights off a smile. “That doesn’t sound bad at all.”

“It really isn’t.” You lean in, cocking your head to the side so you can plant a kiss on Minho’s cheek. When you do, he exhales loudly as if he’s been holding his breath the entire time. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he responds in his usual tone of voice, refusing to look at you now that you’re so close to him. “Isn’t that weird? We went without speaking for so long. We spent a week together and now we miss each other all over again.”

“I think it makes perfect sense.” You shrug and move away from him, leaning into your seat. “We just work together, even if we’re fucked up.”

“Oh, that we are,” Minho says with a chuckle, leaning back into his seat again with a sigh. His hand moves up to the back of your neck, which it squeezes here and there. “Sometimes I wonder how things would be if we’d never broken up.”

You nod because you agree—you think about that sometimes, wondering what kind of things you would have gone through together, if you’d still be together, if you’d have a family or break up in the end. Once again, you have to contradict Minho, even if it isn’t just to spite him this time. 

“I think it was a good decision,” you admit, making him look at you questioningly. “I know it hurt both of us, but I was immature. You changed a lot since then, but you were always mature and fair. You were right about the things you said that night… It was me and my insecurity that ruined the whole thing for us. I wouldn’t have changed had we stayed together. We’d just keep arguing because it’s really hard to love someone who is that insecure and refuses to work on it and expects others to help them get over it. You were right about tha—”

“Pretty, no.” Minho moves his hand down to wrap around your waist, pull you back into your seat so you’re closer to him, so he can look you in the eye while he talks to you. “I never said you were hard to love. I never felt that way. We always had a good time together and I was happy with you.”

You lean in closer, feeling like this is something other people should never hear. Minho does the same, his hand on your cheek, cupping it. You admit, “I was happy with you too. Just worried all the time.”

“I know, and that’s why it didn’t work. You were always worried about me breaking up with you or meeting someone else or being interested in someone different or not being jealous enough when I really, really didn’t care for anyone else. And Chris, no matter how nice he was to you, didn’t really help there. He had his reasons, and maybe it was for the best, but I hope you haven’t been thinking you’re hard to love because of the stupid thing I said during that phone call.”

It was the phone call that ended your relationship over a silly little thing said at a party. It wasn’t the call or what Minho said—it was how you felt the entire time, and it had nothing to do with Chris. You just thought you weren’t good enough for a guy like Minho because your insecurity always made you think of the worst possible things, convinced you he was just waiting for someone better, easier to be with to come along so he could move on. It was stupid, but you were inexperienced and immature. 

Still, hearing Minho say these words helps you close that part of your past, get over a fear that was there because of the way things ended, because of the stupid fights you caused by thinking there was no way he could be serious about you.

“Thank you,” you breathe the words out, almost thinking Minho can’t hear them, but then he smiles. “You know, it was very easy to love you. I forgot about Chris almost instantly.” 

Your hand moves up to his face and you caress his cheek, wanting to hold him for days straight. Even if nothing comes out of this, you’re happy you got to tell Minho what he deserves to hear.

“Even though I was scared you were going to dump me,” you scoff at your own stupidity, “I never even thought about being with him. But I had a lot of growing up to do. I still do, but I’m working on it.”

“You are?” Minho asks with a smirk, clearly entertained as he places his hand over yours and brings them both down to his lap, intertwining his fingers with yours. “What are you working on?”

“Getting therapy,” you admit. “Trying to be more straightforward and less stubborn.”

“I think you’re doing great,” Minho tells you. “I can see the progress already.”

“Stop!” You smack his thigh playfully. “Don’t spare my feelings all the time.”

Minho pretends to be offended, placing one of his hands over his heart dramatically before he laughs. “I’m not, I mean it. I know none of this was easy for you to say. And I appreciate that you said it. Especially the ‘easy to love' part, I liked that.”

“Good. You are.” 

You’ve never meant something more than you mean that—Minho is easy to love. You didn’t want to fall for him back then, your mind preoccupied with the best friend you were pining over, but Minho made it impossible for you to turn him down. He is funny and charming and understanding and caring, and all of that attracted you back then just as much as it does now. He’s loyal to a fault and often puts other people first. Minho finds apologizing easy, favoring the relationship over being right. He cares deeply about those around him and always tries to make them feel good. It’s impossible not to love him.

“So are you,” he says the words that make your eyes water—it’s the first time anyone’s said them to you.

“Even if I drag you to Chris’s wedding and make you think I want to be with him while I’m just scared shitless of admitting I want to be with you?” you question, still feeling a bit of shame when you mention it. Shame isn’t the right word, though, because Minho never makes you feel embarrassed about things. It’s regret—you should have been honest with him from the start.

Minho chuckles, rubbing your back. “Hm, even then. Maybe a bit too easy to fall back in love with. I told myself I’d go as your moral support, to comfort you when he inevitably turns you down, and I fucked myself over.”

“You didn't,” you contradict him, his eyes widening. “I was being an idiot. I should have told you I had no interest in Chris the second I realized it. Maybe I didn't know what exactly I wanted from you, but it would have made things a lot easier for both of us.”

“Well, it would have… I wouldn’t have taken Seoyoon up on her offer.”

You nod at that, realizing he’s regretting it, even if it’s nothing to regret, not when it comes to you two. “Really, Minho… What else was there to do?”

“I could have been an adult and just dealt with my feelings on my own. Or told you about them. But the timing wasn’t right. You were already confused over Chris, it just looked like you were holding on to me because it became clear Chris was going to get married, despite—”

“Hey, Minho,” your hand cups his face and you lean in, “I wasn’t confused over Chris. You were on my mind most of the time, you and the past and how things changed. We— We both could have said something earlier, but we didn’t. We can’t change this or the past or any of it, but we can learn from it and be more honest with each other.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A while later, you and Minho step out of the bar as he offers to walk you home. It’s far away, but you accept, knowing it buys you more time around him, more time for deep conversations, more time to fix things. You’re not sure if anything is going to happen between you two tonight or ever, but you don’t want to part ways until you’re sure Minho knows exactly how you feel about him. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, you need to get the words out instead of holding onto feelings for years.

But, he speaks first, his hand on the small of your back as you two walk down the almost empty street, save for a passer-by here and there. “Pretty, just a second, please.”

He stops walking so you do the same, turning around to face him, eyes inspecting his face questioningly. His expression gives off his nervousness, and that’s not like Minho. Did something happen? Is he going to turn you down easily now? You’re ready for it, whatever it is. 

His hands touch your waist, sneaking around to wrap around you, pull you in closer until your hips touch his. “I didn’t want to talk about this inside or over the phone, but I feel like I have to say it. I really enjoyed the last time we— That time at your place.” 

You find it cute that Minho can’t even say sex out loud because he usually has no shame, especially when it comes to this topic. He’s cocky about it, even, but not tonight. You know why—he fucked you raw for the first time since you two have met, came inside of you, and then left. It was an emotional night for you, sure, but you both took part in it. 

“It was the first time we did that, and I should have stayed with you,” he lowers his voice and leans in, gently touching your forehead with his, even if only for a brief second. “And I should have stayed on the wedding night, it wa—”

“Minho,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You don’t blame him for this, even if he clearly blames himself. You understand because you blame yourself for many things he’s clearly forgiven you for in the meantime. “I do—”

“Pretty, please let me finish,” he cuts you off, lips pursing into a thin line. “I know you’ll say it’s fine, but I still want to apologize. I feel bad for sleeping with you and leaving right after, even if you think you had it coming. I don’t keep score like that. You were emotional and I shouldn’t have slept with you and let us both get carried away. I did it twice now.”

You gulp, swallowing the lump in your throat. So it’s not the sex he regrets, it’s the emotional talk. You’re ready for this, though—you’ve discussed the option with your therapist, your homework for that day being to list what would happen if Minho happens to not reciprocate or not want to get involved with you. No matter how many things you wrote on that paper, your therapist made you come to the same conclusion for each scenario—you’d survive. “Did you say things you didn’t mean? These things happen, you don’t have to apologize.”

“No,” Minho sighs, his hands rubbing your lower back, “I meant it all. I just shouldn’t have said those things and then left. I played with your feelings, even if I felt like I was protecting my own by leaving. I just… Pretty, I didn’t want to be your second option.”

Second option? Your heart hurts for a second when you realize what kind of thoughts have been running through his head, what thoughts plagued your ex because of you and your little schemes. 

“You’re never the second option, not to me, Minho. Not back then, not now. I promise. I’ve said this before, but I mean it. You were right about Chris and how I felt about him. I realized that the second I saw him at the airport. There was nothing there, no butterflies, no attraction, no chemistry, no longing, nothing. And when I saw you walk into that bar that night, I— I replayed our entire relationship in my head instantly. I talked to you about another guy but went home with you because I couldn’t think about anyone else other than you. Just like I did when we met. Remember?”

Minho hums, pulling you into his frame until his lips touch your forehead. “Why didn’t you say it? I don’t blame you because I haven’t really told you anything either, not while we were there. I’m just curious.”

“I was scared of it,” you admit easily this time. You can’t really feel scared of anything when you’re in his arms, when you two are acting like you’re alone in the world. “I felt like I ruined every chance I had with you. The breakup was stupid and it was my fault. And then I slept with you after the Chris idea. Then on the island. It was all so messy and I just had a hard time accepting I acted stupid and hurt you and myself. I guess it was easier to believe you don’t care about me than to realize you do but I’ve fucked things up and treated you poorly.”

His hand cups your chin, makes you look into his eyes. When you do, you’re greeted with a warm smile. “And you think a guy who doesn’t care about you would go along with your plan?” 

“I thought you saw me as a friend. We still know each other well.”

“Pretty, I don’t fuck friends. To be honest, I don’t fuck anyone that way. I wouldn’t go through all that for a fuck, I hope you get that.” He pecks your forehead again and wraps his arms around you. “But we’re here now.”

“We are,” you hum back, hugging him just as tightly, resting your head on his shoulder. “So we’re good?”

“We’re perfect, as far as I’m concerned,” Minho responds, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “We have all the time in the world to figure things out. Anything else bothering you?”

“I am kind of upset about you leaving me with your cum to clean,” you mumble, which makes him chuckle before he pulls away. When he does that, Minho grunts and grimaces.

“I’m sorry, I should have stayed at least for that. I promise to help you clean up every time from now on.” The hand on his heart is a cute touch, makes him look even more irresistible.

“Oh, from now on?” You can’t help but giggle at the promise in his words.

“Yes,” Minho grins, “from now on.”

He’s all smiles too, and you know things will be okay. You can take things slowly, get to know each other better again, be there for each other like you used to. “You sound pretty confident about getting to do it again.”

“It’s hard not to be when you look at me like that, pretty.”

You giggle, shaking your head while he smirks at you. You can never say no to him. “Maybe I’ll let you, but just on special occasions.”

“Is us getting back together a special occasion?” Minho pulls you in closer and pecks your lips. “Sounds pretty special to me.”

That night, you sleep over at Minho’s place. You two didn’t know you’d end up there—he was walking you home when you started kissing, and you somehow decided to go to his place instead of yours. More space, bigger bed, and you’ve been there before. Once you get there, it all feels right. Neither one of you is drunk or confused, and things just fall into place. Things make sense again, weirdly so. 

After a good, long fuck, you fall asleep next to someone for the first time in years, but you don’t feel bad about having someone in bed with you, even if it’s usually something you hate. It’s Minho, and you’ve slept next to him a million times before, so it seems. You’re used to his quiet breathing, the scent of his body, its warmth, and the way he unconsciously gravitates towards you in his sleep. Whenever you wake up in bed with him, he’s touching you in some way. 

This morning isn’t any different, except that it’s 3 am and you’re wide awake, Minho’s body pressed into yours from behind. He has a hard-on, which is almost unbelievable—he came twice just hours ago, and it felt like you were going at it for hours. Still, you know it’s something he can’t control, so you ignore it and try to fall asleep.

But, you can’t. 

His dick pulsates against your naked back, leaking some precum that gets smeared onto your skin, and your cunt clenches around nothing. You’re kind of sore and fucked out—in the best way possible—but you still want more, especially when you can feel how hard and warm his cock feels.

He’s asleep, so you know you’ll have to wait a while before you can have Minho, which is why you move away and put an end to the contact of his silky cock with your back. 

He grunts as you shift. The next second, his arm wraps around your front, pulling you back into his chest. “Don’t go,” he mumbles into your hair. “Pretty… Stay.”

“I’m not going,” you whisper back. Minho made you promise you’d stay the night when you went to bed last night, telling you he didn’t want you to run out and act like nothing happened. “Just moving away from your dick.”

He chuckles, squeezing you. “Sorry, can’t help it. Let’s turn around if you mind.”

“I don’t mind… I just want it.”

“Now?” Minho grumbles, but he sounds a lot more awake than he did seconds ago. 

“Can you put it in?”

And just like that, he shimmies down until he can guide his cock to your entrance from the side and stick it in you. Unsurprisingly, it slides in on the third attempt, your cunt still warm and ready, even after hours of sleep. When he bottoms out, Minho hums loudly and presses a lazy kiss to the back of your neck. “Feels perfect, pretty.”

“You do, baby,” you whisper back, fingers intertwining with his.

It goes on for a while, this lazy fucking of yours, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it. Minho’s movements are slow but pleasurable, and the feeling of his warm body pressed into the back of yours makes you feel like you’re levitating. 

“I’m never pulling out,” he informs you, voice hoarse. 

You don’t even want him to pull out. Staying in his bed forever seems appealing enough. “I let you fuck me without a condom twice, and you’re already losing it,” you joke, squeezing his hand tighter, and he laughs, nuzzling his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply. It feels like you are meant to be there.

“I’ve been losing it over you for a while now,” Minho admits, not joking at all. The statement isn’t followed by a chuckle, but by a peck on your shoulder. “The sex is just a bonus… Do you want to come?”

“I’m not sure I can,” you tell him, feeling tired but so comfortable with him. 

Minho brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks on two of them, getting them wet. When they leave his mouth and make their way down to your clit, he hums, “I’ll try anyway, hm? Maybe it will help you sleep.”

“Or maybe it will completely wake me up,” you joke, but you’re pretty sure you’ll pass out after coming and sleep like a log. 

“Oh, no, we’ll have to pull an all-nighter together!” he whispers teasingly, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, lifting your leg in the air, resting your foot on his thigh. That way, he has better access and he can keep fucking you slowly while his fingers circle the spot he’s licked and sucked and touched for hours today. “Just don’t press too hard.”

“I forgot how sensitive you get after a couple of rounds…” Minho giggles, kissing your cheek, his cock now moving just a bit faster, in and out. It’s sloppy and wet, lazy, but so comfortable and pleasurable. You’re wet, walls swollen and still buzzing from earlier, so feeling his cock sheath through them and pull back just a bit makes you practically purr. “Couldn’t stop myself. Maybe I am selfish.”

“If this is how you being selfish ends, please be selfish some more.”

He laughs and starts kissing your neck—his lips press into it, tongue pushing through to lick the small piece of skin before slowly moving up to suck the sweet spot under your ear that makes you squirm and clench around his dick. You can’t really move away, not when his other hand is between your neck and the pillow, palm on your chest, kneading your tit. You’re locked in place, but you enjoy it. 

“Fuck,” you groan at him, feeling your walls tighten. You’re sore, clit practically numb at this point, but he’s doing such a good job with everything. It’s not just about the sex and his hands on you—it’s about his kisses and how close Minho is holding you, and the fact that you’re here together, that you both care enough to give it a try. “You’ll make me come again…”

“Good,” Minho tells you with a smile. You can’t see it, but you can hear his tone change and you just know he’s happy with himself. He should be. “Because I can’t wait to come inside you again.”

You chuckle, realizing you’ve spoiled him already, that he won’t want to go back to the old way of having sex, that your boyfriend will want to come inside of you as many times as you’ll let him—and it all just makes you happy. 

You two keep going like that for a while, eyes closed, teetering on the brink of sleep. Despite being exhausted, your body is reacting to Minho’s touch, to the feeling of having him inside of you and gently swaying his hips, of his hand rubbing your clit as softly as possible, of his other hand holding on to your chest, of his body pressed into yours. 

“Minho, don’t stop, baby, please—” Warmth spreads from the pit of your stomach to the end of your toes, making them curl, making your body clench right before you reach your high and come for him, walls clamping and releasing around his length easily, like they’re not swollen, like he hasn’t rubbed every inch of them tonight. “Yes!”

He gives you a couple of quick thrusts before he grunts your name into your neck. After that, he gets sloppy and you realize he’s filling you up quietly, pushing his erection into you as far as it can go, clearly feeling everything deeply, like you are. Maybe it's because you’re in the dark and nothing other than your breathing and panting can be heard. Maybe you feel that way because you’ve been so happy since you two met tonight. Maybe it’s because he’s just enjoying his orgasm. Whatever it is, Minho is giving the thrusts his all as he comes inside of you and kisses your cheek.

“Give me that shirt over there,” he asks of you, pointing to the shirt he sleeps in that he tactically didn’t wear tonight. Sleeping naked has its perks, and one of them is just fucking whenever you wake up without any barriers between your warm bodies.

When you hand him the shirt, Minho sits up propped on his palm, using his other hand to wipe away the cum that’s running out of you and onto your inner thigh. “I’m sorry, I can’t get up to get a towel, I’m so spent, pretty…”

“It’s fine,” you mumble, cleaning up the last thing on your mind. 

Minho wipes you clean pretty fast and throws the shirt on the floor before lying back down. “Come here,” he hums, helping you turn to face him before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his side, your head resting on his chest. “You make me happy, pretty… Hope you know it.”

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest at his words, mostly because you know he means them. “I… Minho… I’m so happy that I never want to be without you again.”

He chuckles slowly, tangling his fingers in your hair and gently tugging at your roots. “Then don’t, pretty.”

For a while, you two lay there in silence, bodies wrapped around one another’s, his hand on your head, caressing it gently. Your body is exhausted, buzzing with pleasure, melding into his like it belongs there. Doesn’t it? 

“You were never the second option,” you reiterate your earlier conclusion just because you think Minho deserves to know this. You don’t feel like you’ve done a great job at explaining your feelings, even if you did your best. There’s so much you want him to know, but the only thing you can do is tell him how you feel every day. Create the perfect conditions. 

Minho’s palm runs across your forehead and he looks down at you with a smile. “You’re never my second option, either.”

You nod, thankful that he’s here with you now, that you’ll get to have him in your life. “I’m sorry,” you say again, for the fiftieth time tonight alone, but you can’t not feel bad when you remember everything that happened and how you almost didn’t get to explain anything, how you almost lost Minho forever because you were stubborn and childish. “I know I hurt you.”

Minho shakes his head and cups your face, humming gently. “Let’s make a deal. We stop apologizing for the past. What do you say? We’ve already explained it all. You did hurt me, but I hurt you too. We forgave each other and we’re moving past it. Don’t get stuck there, okay?”

You nod and lift your head off his chest so you can kiss him, taste him again, humming when he kisses back. It all feels so right, like you were never supposed to leave, even if it was for the best. You’ve changed for the better since then, and Minho deserves the best. “Is that a yes?”

“It is,” you say in between pecks. “Can I hold you?”

Minho titls his head to the side and smiles, his eyes closing every couple of seconds as sleep starts taking over him. “Sure.” He makes it sound like it’s nothing, even if it’s his favorite thing, so you chuckle and lay down on your back, motioning for him to come closer. 

Without a word, Minho changes positions and rests his head on your chest, lets you play with his hair while you plant soft kisses along his forehead. “I haven’t done this in a long time, and I really wanted to.”

“You have?”

“Mhm,” you hum, realizing he’s already drifting asleep now that you’re touching him the way he likes it, your fingers running up and down his skull, fingertips caressing it. “Wanted to hold you like this the first time we saw each other at the bar, and every day after. I know it’s your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite, pretty,” he mumbles, too tired to open his eyes, so you kiss him again and keep quiet so he can fall asleep. You’re not going anywhere and there will be plenty of chances to talk about how you feel about each other. Instead of saying something, you squeeze him and kiss him again, wanting him to feel he is loved.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

The morning of the wedding is one of the worst ones you’ve had, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Chris is getting married. At this point, you don’t care that the idea of this love you think was destined to be has gone down in flames. You’re hungover, feel like shit, and don’t even want to leave your room to face the world or—more precisely—Minho. 

You acted like a complete idiot last night before you even picked up the phone and called his best friend to cry about the guy. The whole thing is embarrassing, to say the least. Jisung has probably already informed Minho of your drunken call. Maybe they even had a good laugh about it, seeing as the best friend could never stand you in the first place. 

Maybe Minho is upset you’ve taken it upon yourself to call his best friend to bitch about things you’ve ruined. Maybe your call has broken the trust between you two, if there was any left to begin with. After leaving him alone for three hours at a party you invited him to—well, dragged him to—you kind of doubt it. 

But, all of these things are something you should worry about later since it's the wedding day, after all—you have no time to feel sorry for yourself or regret every single thing that has led to this point in your life. Besides, you have to attend the wedding. Saying you have a stomach bug won’t get you out of it because you’re sure other people got drunk last night too. 

So, you get ready and hope you look somewhat decent, that people won't be able to notice how terrible you feel and how puffy your face is from all the crying and the alcohol, that people won’t understand what kind of things you’ve learned about yourself and your life in the last couple of hours. Will anyone notice your life has fallen apart, broken at the seams because of your stubbornness and idiocy? No amount of makeup can hide the remnants of the hangover you’re sporting, though, even if the dress does a good job of moving attention away from your face.

At exactly 10 am, Minho knocks on your door, just like you’ve agreed earlier, before the fight, before you were so mean to him. Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear him knock because a part of you was expecting him to just meet you downstairs, but here he is, playing along once again. 

When you open the door, you two just stare at each other for a while, unsaid words swirling in your head, said words following—why did you tell him all those things? He didn’t deserve any of it. Most of it was misdirected anger, feelings you felt towards past you, the idiot who couldn’t see what she had because she was too afraid of what might happen in the future. Well, the future is now, and you’re still a scared idiot. This time, you’ve fucked up even worse.

With that in mind, you open the door, unsure of what you’re expecting to see on the other side. An angry ex? An indifferent Minho? Worst of all, a hurt Minho? Your ex stands there silently, eyeing you from head to toe.

You forgot how handsome Minho looks in a suit, especially when it’s a fitted one, when he wears earrings and rings, and styles his hair so his forehead is showing, completely entrancing you. He’s always a gorgeous man, but when he puts in this much effort, it’s hard to stop staring. “Hey,” he tells you, snapping you from your thoughts.

“I, uh… You… You’re on time,” you say stupidly, stepping out of the room with your purse in hand, ready to get out of there and let this moment end. You can’t stand to have his gaze on you—every second of it reminds you of how idiotic you’ve acted, and the fact that he’s not going to address what’s happened last night isn’t helping. “Let’s go.”

Minho follows right behind you, staying quiet until you reach the elevator and go down. “You look great,” he compliments you with a hoarse voice, which is when you take a good look at him. The bags under his eyes give off the impression that his night was as bad as yours. Was your stupid fight the reason? Did you manage to ruin even that for him? Did he stay up all night thinking and drinking like you? 

“You do too, Minho,” you say right back. A part of you wants to reach out and touch him, beg him to forgive you for being an ass to him all this time, but words don’t come. You’re too afraid to open that can of worms right now, too scared of getting hurt all over again, of hating yourself even more. “Sharp.”

He nods at you and looks to the side. Clearly, you’ve been too mean—the guy can’t even look at you anymore. Your mind takes you to that afternoon at the pool, the thing you started there and ended in his room, and how carefree you felt. Happy. Now, it’s all gone. Minho mutters, “Well, I hope this is over soon.”

Over? The sooner the wedding ceremony ends, the sooner you two will go home. Judging by how you left things, Minho will not continue being your friend—or whatever he is. Can you blame him? “Hm, the wedding?”

“Yeah,” he says curtly, even though you’re not sure he means just that. After all, maybe your ex just wants to get rid of all the stress you’ve brought into his life again, as Jisung suggested. “Uh, good luck with… Chris.”

Chris? Just the mention of his name hurts because you’ve been such an idiot all this time, especially with this plan. What’s Chris got to do with all of this?

“Listen, about last night, I’m sorry I—” You try to apologize, not even wanting to discuss the Chris part, but Minho cuts you off by lifting his hand to face level and glancing at you.

“No need for that, okay?” He looks at you with an expression you can’t read at all. Don’t you owe him a big apology for being so selfish and breaking your promise? Didn’t he get upset last night? “You have bigger things to worry about today. It’s all good.”

Nothing is good, but you can’t even begin to explain it all to him, so you don’t. And then, the elevator door opens, and you’re greeted by a bunch of other guests who are on their way to the hotel beach, where the wedding is happening. It’s time to be jolly and celebrate love and forget that you’re a selfish person who never thinks of others.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Christopher hugs you warmly, planting a soft kiss on your temple when you and Minho join the rest of the guests at the beach. It’s still fairly early, but Chris is there greeting everyone. “It’s good to have someone who knows the old me here. The new me is happy, but this is making me nostalgic in a good way. I’m even glad Minho’s here.”

“Can’t believe I’m getting to hear you say that!” you tell your friend, patting his shoulders while still in his embrace. Minho has already found a glass of champagne and went to find his seat, not even trying to be friendly. You can’t blame him. “Thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… He’s a good guy. You know, I was just jealous of him when I acted like he was the worst guy out there. And that was wrong of me.” Chris places his hand over his heart and nods. Suddenly, you wonder why he is saying all of this. Could it be? “Back then, I thought you were the one for me and that I had to do everything in my power to stop you from being with someone else. I hated seeing you with him because I thought I could make you happier, but deep down, I just knew I couldn’t compete with Minho, which is why I never said a thing. I realized later on that I was acting selfish, and love’s not selfish. It can’t be. If it is, it’s not real.”

“You, you believe that?” You feel so bad about scheming to ruin this man’s wedding that he’s clearly so fucking happy about. Chris looks thrilled to be there, and you almost tried to ruin that out of selfishness. He’s so in love that he wants others to feel that type of love too, which is why he’s setting you up with Minho, putting in a good word for him.

“Yes. My beautiful soon-to-be wife? I’ve never been jealous of any man in her life. I’ve never wanted to threaten her happiness with someone else or on her own so that I could be happy. I love her and I care about her more than I can explain, but her happiness matters to me. And it would be selfish of me to think that I’m the only person in the world who can make her feel that way,” Chris admits to you, grinning from ear to ear. Guilt fills you from head to toe. You didn’t feel that way about him, that’s sure. What you felt used to be a lot more selfish than the thing Chris is describing.

“I… Maybe you’re right about that. She’s lucky to have you,” you admit, wholeheartedly meaning it. Sunyoung and Chris deserve all the happiness in the world. Minho does, too. You, not so much—immoral scheming assholes usually don’t.

“And you’re lucky to have Minho, you know,” Chris leans in to whisper, giggling when he does. “I mean it, from the bottom of my heart. It’s been years, and you told me you two had lost touch for a long time too, but… He’s looking at you like you’re magic after all these years. We saw each other at the bar last night and talked, and this guy… He is the one. I know that for you, and I hope you will see it with time.”

“You can't know that, Chris, no one can.” You don’t want to believe it, you just don’t. If Minho is the best guy you’ve ever been with, you have to accept the fact that you’ve completely ruined everything with him, not just years ago, but even now with your stupid little scheme. 

You’ve shown him that you’re a pretty immoral person who doesn’t care about others, who only wants to get what she thinks is best for her, who doesn't care about who gets hurt along the way. Minho can do a lot better than that. You’ve been mean to the man time and time again. It’s defeating.

“I know what a girl like you wants, right? Lord knows I’ve pretended to be that for a long time. I wanted to be it, so I changed into it, but it was a facade.” He hums knowingly as if he understands everything. “Minho doesn’t have to change at all. Well, he could be a bit nicer, but I guess that’s a part of his charm.”

“I wish I could see that too,” you admit, defeated beyond belief. You’ve ruined every single thing you could have possibly ruined. “I… I am happy for you. I wanted to tell you something, but now I feel like it’s just words that don’t mean anything. I am so confused.”

“I know what you wanted to tell me,” Chris tells you softly, now looking straight into your eyes, and you feel like time stands still. Does he really know, or is he just assuming things? “Trust me, I knew it from the second I saw you. But it’s all smoke and mirrors on both ends. We’re friends who care about each other. You don’t love me like you should love a boyfriend or a husband, and I don’t feel that for you, either.”

“You know?” you ask, even though he’s just told you he does. Chris knows you wanted to confess your feelings for him a couple of days before his wedding or even on his wedding day, trying to ruin it, yet he’s treating you so nicely. It’s an eye-opening and extremely embarrassing moment, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m not angry. I understand. I also see that you two are not with each other, not really,” Chris lets you know with a smirk that tells you he’s completely onto you, and you feel like you want to cry out of shame. “When you are together, there’s so much chemistry that sparks are flying, so it’s kind of noticeable you aren’t. When I first saw him at the airport, I thought to myself that I’m screwed. I thought Sunyoung would be jealous that we aren’t as lovey-dovey as you two. I wondered if Minho was really going to outshine me at my own wedding by acting more in love than me.”

You chuckle at his confession but still feel so embarrassed about Chris knowing everything. Your dignity is completely gone at this point, and not just because of this. You do think Minho and you had a lot of chemistry, but a part of you wants to contradict Chris just so you can feel like you didn’t fuck up the best thing you had. “We were never lovey-dovey.”

“Maybe not in my way, but Minho always had his hand on or around you, was always there for you. Even if he’s not touching you, he looks at you like you’re the only woman around,” he points out and leans in again. “A little bird told me two of the guests heard you two are going through a rough patch and made a move on him. Both got turned down. He’s a single man, he could have gone for it. Isn’t Minho just here to have fun? He’s not here to support me.”

He did? You didn’t know about any of this, but it doesn’t have to mean anything. Minho could find someone to sleep with or date instantly. His turning down two women might just mean he wasn’t into them. Didn’t he try it with Seoyoon just last night? “Stop, he doesn’t feel that way about you. He’s not… Hateful.”

“I know. Like I’ve said, we had a talk last night, and it just solidified my conviction that he is the one for you.”

A talk? You wonder what Minho and Chris told each other while you were upstairs getting drunk and calling Minho’s best friend. But, you won’t ask—you have to respect people’s privacy, no matter how much you want to know every single detail about this. What did Minho say?

“Why is that?” you ask at least that.

“The things I said about love not being selfish? He… Minho called me late last night, asked me to have a drink with him if I wasn’t in bed already. Minho…” Chris clears his throat and sighs, clearly trying to find a good way to say whatever it is that the two of them discussed. “He tried to, uh, hint that if I’m not 100% sure of this marriage or if I have some lingering feelings for you, that you might have them too, and that it’s a thing that shouldn’t be wasted.”

Chris’s words hit you like a ton of bricks across the face and you gasp, trying to hide it by covering your mouth with your hand. Minho did that? You told him such mean things and insulted him, insinuating he was terrible towards you and selfish, and he went out there and tried to put in a good word for you, even though he thinks breaking people up is immoral. He is too good for you, Jisung was completely right about that.

“Isn’t that love? He’s doing something morally wrong because there’s a slight chance of that making you happy with someone else. See what I mean?” Chris pats your shoulder and smiles knowingly, and you’re just astounded by the understanding he exudes after the way you’ve treated both of them. “I would have never done that for you, and you wouldn’t have done it for me, right? We wanted each other possessively. But that's not what we should go for.”

“Thank you, Chris, for understanding. I’m sorry about all this, I do feel like a fool for even coming. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s fine. Nothing happened. I’m glad you are both here. We are friends, after all.”

“I… I’m glad that we are.”

“Me too,” he tells you with a nod. “And you should go for it. Him, I mean. I know what you wanted to tell me, but I also see the way you look at him. No matter what kind of things you told me about your relationship with Minho, you can’t hide how you feel when you look at him. I’ve seen you look at Minho that same way before and that’s when I realized I lost back then. You never looked at me that way. So go for it. You’re not getting a third chance anytime soon.”

The wedding is beautiful. Minho sits next to you, but you two don’t say a word to each other. He’s two drinks in by the time the ceremony starts, and you feel so embarrassed after finding out what he’s done for you last night despite your treatment of him. Besides, your heart has been racing ever since the pep talk with Chris, since hearing what he, as someone who used to know you well, thinks about you and your feelings towards the guy who’s sitting next to you and pretending you don’t exist. 

The two women on his left keep talking to Minho, and you’re too busy focusing on the ceremony to even react so you two don’t say much to each other throughout the whole thing. The women do say a lot, but you try not to pay attention. You have a feeling Minho is not going to be interested in sleeping with them or leading them on, not after the fight you two have had, not after everything. But then again, he’s no one to you, and he has every right to engage in whatever type of relations he wants. Besides, Seoyoon is more than willing to fuck him.

When Chris and Sunyoung say ‘I do,’ your eyes well with tears and you don’t fight them. Instead, you cry for the couple, happy that they’ve found each other. Chris is so secure in his love for Sunyoung that you can’t doubt it for a second. Besides, it’s not your place to doubt other people’s feelings—you don’t even understand your own. They both have a lot of compassion for others and one another, and you know they will be happy for a long time.

You feel Minho glancing at you when you wipe your tears away, but you don’t want to explain why you’re crying and why you feel incredibly lonely and fucked up, even if it has nothing to do with Chris. Without a word, your ex pats the small of your back a couple of times, and you nod thankfully. “You’ll be fine, pretty,” he leans in to whisper, “you’ve always been fine.” Another act of kindness he doesn’t have to show you—you don’t deserve it.

After the wedding, everyone has lunch at the hotel pavilion and talks about how beautiful the wedding was, how perfect they are for each other, how the day is full of love. Minho and you don’t talk a lot, other than saying a couple of words about the food in front of you and the drinks you’re having. You’re still shocked and embarrassed by everything that’s happened and Minho seems to be a lot colder towards you than usual, even though he’s shown you kindness earlier, thinking you’re hurting over Chris. But that’s all it is—pity. He thinks the love of your life just got married and that you’re crushed by that, when you’re in fact crushed by completely different feelings.

After lunch, the band starts playing and people drink even more. The dessert is served and then cocktails by the pool. You’ve never felt more alone than you do now while you’re watching your ex mingle with the old ladies that have asked him to go get them cocktails. Helpful as always, Minho went to the bar and brought them their drinks, hanging around to chat and the fact that he’s laughing more with three grandmas he’s never seen before than you is devastating. Is this what it feels like not to be his center of attention, not to be given the time of day by your ex? 

Things don’t change even when you go back to the garden where the band keeps playing, where the waiters serve drinks and snacks, where most people are already drunk like it’s the wee hours of the morning. Guests are drinking and dancing, and even Minho is on the dancefloor, impressing people with his dance skills while you sit around the table and drink, feeling sorry for yourself. 

Someone hugs you from behind while you’re sitting there moping, and you realize it’s Sunyoung when she giggles. “Hey there… Are you okay?”

“Great, great, just a bit tired,” you admit, telling her the wedding was gorgeous once again. It truly is. You tell her how beautiful and happy she looks because she does. Once the idea of being with her now husband left your mind as quickly as it entered it, you started seeing things as they were, which means you now appreciate Sunyoung and her kindness. She’s a great person and exactly what Chris deserves.

“I hope you’ll have fun despite that,” she whispers, squeezing you one more time. “You should get out there. You can’t let those hyenas touch your man like that.”

She’s joking, but a part of you agrees with Chris’s wife—everyone here thinks you and Minho are together, yet he’s dancing with random women who seem to be entranced by everything he does. You’ve been watching them for a while now, noticing how their hands touch his sides, how two of them sandwich your ex, one grinding her pelvis into his ass while the other ground her ass into his crotch.

It’s nasty, to say the least, but that’s what weddings are for—either you get married or you don’t, and in the latter case, you get drunk and try to get laid. It’s exactly what Minho has joked about doing here. These women seem to be on the same page, ready to have some fun with him, and you can’t blame them. He’s breathtaking, especially when he dances and smiles like that. You know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of his attention, to feel so wanted and special like you’re the only person around. And that’s a feeling only Minho can give.

He’s free to touch and kiss and fuck any of these women. He doesn’t owe you a single thing. So, why should you feel bad if Minho takes these girls to his room and gives them the type of pleasure he’s given you? Why do you care if his lips kiss theirs, if his strong hands hold onto their hips as he fucks them, if he nuzzles up to their neck and grunts as he shoots his load into the condom? You shouldn’t care but you do, and denying it is pointless right now. You want him, not Chris, not any other guy you’ve ever had any kind of feelings for. All of them faded completely, all of them are based on memory alone—the thing with him is real.

So, if Minho wants just sex, why not with you? After downing your sixth glass of champagne, you do something stupid again. Instead of calling it a day and going to your room, admitting your defeat, realizing you’ve fucked up everything you could, you make your way to Minho, who chuckles when he sees you approaching.

“Hey, pretty, want to join us?” he asks, amused by the look on your face as you approach their little trio. It’s the first thing he’s told you all night. 

“Time for your reward, Lee Minho!” You grab his tie and pull him away from the women he's dancing with until he almost crashes into your chest. He doesn’t seem displeased. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” Your ex seems surprised, but he’s still chuckling, seemingly unbothered by the fact you broke up his little possible menage a trois. He doesn’t even mention the fight you two had last night. “The fun is just starting!”

“Oh, we’ll have a lot of fun,” you hiss at him and make it sound like a threat. 

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you, but if your stunning ex is just looking to get laid, why not with you? You two have great sex, and a one-night stand can’t even come close to it—you both know that. You can give him sex without feelings. Well, you can try, but he doesn’t have to know about all that. You can fuck him now and deal with your feelings later, just like he asked you to.

Minho seems to feel the same way because he follows you into the elevator without a word, watching you intently as you press the button to your floor. When you do, you turn to face him and crash your lips into his roughly, like you’ve been wanting to all day. Finally, you get to taste him again, palming his firm chest over his shirt, pushing your tongue past his lips. 

But, your ex stops you by cupping your face and moving it away from his own as gently as possible, eyebrows furrowed as Minho inspects your face. “Wait, wait, what’s going on?” His eyes shift from your eyes to your lips, as if he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. 

“Stop talking, okay?” you suggest, not wanting to explain yourself or a single thing that’s happened. Minho nods and lets you kiss him again, even though you can feel he is tense.

You just need him today. That’s all. Not Chris, not alcohol, not the party or dancing—just Minho. Your hand makes its way down to the front of his pants, and you enjoy feeling him slowly get erect under your palm while you kiss him. Take that, Seoyoon! Soon enough, you’ll have him inside of you, and things will make sense for a while, even if only because your ex always manages to fuck any semblance of a coherent thought right out of you.

“Just a second, please, pretty…” Minho breaks the kiss again, this time grabbing your shoulders to push you away from his body, to keep you at a safe distance while he asks his questions. “Did something happen? Did you tell him?”

“I… Minho, maybe don’t talk about another man while I’m playing with your dick,” you suggest with a snicker, your mind so far away from Chris as your palm rubs his cock over the suit pants that hug his thighs perfectly.

“God…” Minho sighs and places his hands over yours, pulling it away from his erection. “I want this, trust me, but I don't want you to do something just because you’re hurt. And if you talked to him, you’re definitely hurt.”

You can’t believe Minho is so selfless that he’s still thinking about your feelings, after everything. Your heart starts beating louder, its thumping overpowering the sound of your long sigh.

“I’m not, surprisingly,” you admit, shaking your head. Not one part of you is hurt about Chris getting married. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t have to, he knew. And you were right, maybe it’s time I move on and stop idealizing someone. And who better to do that with than the guy I could never idealize?”

Minho laughs loudly, rolling his eyes at your little jab, but you feel him relaxing against you, letting you touch him again. “I had that one coming.”

It’s a compliment, though. You can’t idealize him because you see Minho as a person with flaws. He can be stubborn when he wants to, he can be very blunt when telling the truth, he doesn’t change his opinions easily. But, he also makes every situation comfortable, he makes you feel cared for even when you don’t deserve it at all, and he is caring despite the mean schtick that nobody buys. 

He is stubborn, but that means Minho doesn’t give up on things—or people—easily. He’s dependable and caring. He is blunt, but he will never lie or sugarcoat things and will be there even if he doesn’t necessarily approve of what you’re doing. It’s hard to change his mind sometimes, but he stands his ground even when people push him, which is why it took him so long to give up on you back then, even if his best friend constantly pushed for Minho to find someone else, even if it was obvious he deserved someone better than you.

You nod slowly, looking up at him through your lashes when you notice that smirk you know and love. “You have a lot more coming.”

“Bring it on, pretty,” your ex teases, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around so you face the open elevator door. “We’re here.”

You’re not sure how you make it to your room because you’re too busy kissing and groping Minho to even open your eyes, but he gets you there safely.

Somehow, it all feels right. You’re not sure if Minho is the man for you, but does that matter right now? You can’t focus on your feelings, not when you’re on your knees and he’s cupping your face as he brings his shaft to your mouth. You always salivate at the sight of this gorgeous man tugging his dick for you, ready to give it to you, and tonight is no different.

The second he feels your tongue wrap around his tip, Minho throws his head back and hisses, hips jerking towards you. “Sorry, I just… You look so pretty like this, turn me on so much.”

You hum around his erection, wanting to tell him he turns you on just as much, but you decide to show it by taking all of him in, until your nose touches the neatly trimmed pubic area, until he grunts and grabs your head by the hair, moaning your name.

He’s so easy to please in your eyes because you’ve done it a million times. You know how Minho likes it when he’s sad, when he’s happy, when he’s upset, when he’s just mindlessly horny, like now. He wants it sloppy and hard, so you don’t even care about the drool that’s spilling out of your mouth as he fucks your throat, don’t care about the makeup that’s running down your face with every tear that drops, caused by the intensity of his thrusts into your mouth.

And then, Minho stops and pulls his cock out, hands grabbing yours so he can help you get up. When he does, his mouth on you is all you can feel—on your lips, on your cheek, your neck, collarbone, between your breasts… He leads the way to the bed, arms wrapped around you. 

The next second, you’re on the bed, and he’s pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your hips so he can roll the dress up and get his prize. The underwear gets discarded, and Minho’s mouth latches to your inner thigh, suckling on the skin while his other hand runs up and down your other thigh.

“Please, don’t tease,” you say shakily, your hips jerking up at every contact of his warm and wet mouth with your skin. “Please, I need you.”

“Mhm, you’re being so good to me tonight,” he chuckles and dives right in, making you forget about everything else. 

His mouth does wonders on you, as always, fingers stretching you out, getting you ready to take his cock while his lips stay wrapped around your clit, flicking, licking, sucking it. You’re embarrassingly wet—you can feel a pool of juices and his saliva pool right under your ass, but you can’t get yourself to care, not when Minho’s tongue and fingers send you over the edge.

You groan his name and grab him by the hair, pushing his face further into you as your hips buck towards him. All you hear is faint buzzing, all you see are white dots as a red fire washes over your body, igniting something in you, something that makes you prop yourself up on your elbows and look at him. “Fuck me. I miss it.”

Minho’s expression softens when he hears that, and he’s on his feet in a second, discarding the rest of his clothes, so you do the same, not wanting to have a single barrier between the two of you.

When he gets on top of you, you sigh with relief—his body is firm and warm, fits on top of yours perfectly, and so does his mouth. “Condom?” Minho asks you, to which you stupidly shake your head.

One taste of his dick, and you’re already losing all your common sense, letting yourself drown in feelings for him, letting desire take over you. That was what being with him was like—just emotions carrying you through everything. It used to scare you so much, make you believe he could easily manipulate you, that he could use you until he got tired of you. Nowadays, that fear is completely gone. 

“Pretty, are you sure?” Minho looks down at you, and you think he’s never looked hotter than he does now—naked on top of you, his hands helping him stay above you, hair falling over his eyes as he keeps himself up. 

“I want you,” you say with a nod, spreading your legs wide. When you do that, his cock rubs against your slit, and you both hiss. “I’ve never been able to give it to you before, even though you always wanted it. Want to feel you.”

“I would love that, but I think this is the alcohol speaking,” Minho informs you as he pushes himself off of you and goes looking for his suit jacket. You whine, but he cuts you off with a groan. “You wanted a condom the last time we did this. So we’re doing it like this now.”

In a couple of seconds, he’s back on top of you, a condom rolled over his thick cock. “But I’m telling you I don’t care tonight,” you whine, looking right into his eyes. You mean it. You don’t care about anything else—you just want to be with him. Minho always went on about fucking you without a condom, even if you were too scared to ever try it back then. You’re on birth control, so there’s no fear now, and you trust Minho with your life.

“Okay,” your ex leans in and pecks you, “then I’ll fuck you raw when you’re sober, how about that? Not tonight, though.”

You nod, knowing Minho is really stubborn about certain things. If he says no, he means it, and not even you can convince him to give in, even if he wants to come inside of you badly. And you know he does. He’s whispered that into your ear so many times when he fucked you back then, whining about how wet and warm you feel, how he wanted to feel you without the condom on, telling you he wished he could pump you full of cum all the fucking time.

Neither one of you was willing to risk it, of course, but the fantasy turned you both on. When you’d hear your usually composed boyfriend practically whine into your ear about wanting to feel your pussy for real, wanting to give you all his cum, and watch how it spills out of you, you’d come so hard you’d have to take a little break to recover. 

So, despite wanting it, Minho is not drunk enough to actually go through with it, which you’re sure sober you will appreciate tomorrow. “Then fuck me like this,” you tell him, grabbing his cock and leading it to your entrance, to which he smirks. “Just let me feel you.”

Slowly but surely, Minho pushes his entire length inside of you, your walls stretching to let him inside, wrapping around him when he buries himself into you to the hilt. And then, everything unfolds, and you start feeling like you’re somewhere else, your brain shutting off.

All you feel is your limbs splaying to your sides and Minho thrusting into you, fast, hard, just the way you like it. You hear him grunting as he sheaths his cock in you, feel him tense and relax. Your crotch is clenching and dripping for him, and he is giving you exactly what you want. You’re not sure how long it goes on. It’s all so rhythmical and calming and your entire body is buzzing as you just look at him on top of you and he looks right back at you, never breaking eye contact. 

You can’t read Minho’s expression, and tonight, you don’t even try. You don’t want to guess how he feels and you don’t want him to know how you feel—it’s all too raw for you to talk about now, while he’s inside of you, while he’s reminding you of everything you feel for him.

“Look so pretty all fucked out like that,” Minho grunts at you before he attaches his lips to your nipple and slows down a bit. “God, I missed your cunt.”

“Fuck,” you hiss at his words, your chest warming up at the compliment, even if it’s just sexual. You want Minho to miss you because you feel the same way. “I’ve missed this too.”

“Good,” he chuckles against your skin and gives your nipple a slight bite, “you’re gonna get it, pretty, don’t worry. All night, if you want to.”

“Please, keep fucking me all night,” you beg, sounding so desperate that it would be embarrassing if you weren’t so utterly desperate for his attention and touch. “Don’t stop.”

“I’ll try,” Minho tells you and starts fucking you again. “Can’t promise I’ll last that long when you feel this good.”

You’re not sure how long it lasts, but every thrust feels great, fills you up fully, makes you get wetter. You’re both hissing and grunting at each other, eyes glued to the other’s face, and yet, the loudest sound is the wetness that comes from your crotch because of him. 

“So fucking wet…” Minho notes with a confident smirk. “Like my cock that much?”

“Love it, baby,” you hum at him, hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him in closer so you can kiss him. Even his kisses make you feel like you’re levitating. “I’d let you fuck me whenever.”

Minho snickers into the kiss. “Don’t say that, I might take you up on that offer.”

“I’m not joking,” you say, which makes him look at you questioningly. You mean it. You want you two to have each other whenever you feel like it, like back in the day. You need Minho close. You stare at each other for a while, but Minho soon recovers.

“You’re talking too much,” he teases, ignoring what you’ve just told him. “Means I’m not fucking you well enough.”

With that, he starts smacking his hips into yours hard and fast, practically not moving away from you, save from his pelvis that arches back and slams into you, time and time again. Your hands move up to his face, which you hold onto while Minho fucks you. “So good,” you mumble at him, struggling to breathe since you moan with every thrust of his. “Look so—ah!—hot when you fuck me.”

“Oh, you’re praising me way too much today,” he complains with a grin, shaking his head and pulling away from you as if he’s running away from your touch and compliments. Then, he places his hands on your thighs, right below where they meet your hips, and uses the leverage to pull you towards him and further onto his cock. 

From this kneeling position, Minho can move harder and faster, which he instantly does, frowning at the pleasure he gets with each push inside of you, seemingly entranced by watching his cock disappear into you. “You’re so fucking good for me tonight,” he hums at you under his breath. “Take me so well, hm?”

“You’re the one doing all the work,” you point out, groaning when he enters you even deeper, back arching into him. You forgot just how many things you tried out with Minho, how no time with him feels the same—he’s always trying something new to make you feel good. “Feel so good and deep like this...”

“Good, pretty, I want to make you feel good,” Minho hisses, continuing fucking you at the same pace, sharp and fast, in and out.

“You’re so pretty, Minho, can’t stop looking…” You’re mesmerized by how gorgeous he looks, hair sticking to the sides of his face, sweat dripping down his neck and firm chest, nipples hardened, skin hot and wet. You want to lick him all over, so you tell him just that, and he chuckles, expression softening once again as his eyes turn into slits. 

“You say the wildest shit when you have a couple of drinks,” Minho teases, loosening the grip around your thighs. 

“I mean it, though,” you admit, placing your hands over his and giving them a squeeze. “You’re still the hottest guy I’ve ever met.”

“What about—” he starts a question, but stops himself right before he says the groom’s name, you’re sure. “I… Cool.”

He continues fucking you, but you can tell something is happening inside his head, his thoughts are taking him somewhere else. “You really are, and I’m not just saying that because you’re in me,” you explain, rubbing his arms once again. “I’m saying it because you deserve to know.”

Minho smirks, deciding to challenge you. “Cream around my cock and show me how much you like me then.” 

It doesn’t take him long to get you to do just that, not when one of his hands lets go of your thigh to move down and rub your clit lazily, three fingers applying just enough wet pressure to get you to come hard, hips chasing after Minho’s, meeting his every thrust. “Shit, so fucking tight, pretty, so tight,” he grunts at you when your walls flutter around him but doesn’t stop.

“Tight enough?” you manage to mutter, even though you’re on cloud nine, your entire body shivering, sweating, feeling the warmth of pleasure rush through you. “Give it to me, then.”

You should know better than to tease Lee Minho, but you clearly don’t. In a second, he’s turning you to your left side and pushing your right knee up against the bed, which allows him perfect access to your dripping cunt from where he’s kneeling over your left leg. “Oh, you’ll get it.”

“Fuck, Minho,” you moan as soon as he shoves his dick into you, the new angle has you seeing stars already. You feel so exposed like this, unable to move as his hands keep pushing your hip down into the mattress. “So intense…”

“Too much?” he mutters through gritted teeth, intent on fucking you just as hard, even though his face is getting redder and sweatier by the second. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” You shake your head, unable to do much else than lie there and take all of it, which you do happily. “Good intense… Feel you so deep in me. Wish you could come in me like this.”

“Pretty, fuck, don’t—” he hisses, grunting and sighing loudly, hips still smacking into yours—smack after smack, accompanied by the wet sounds of his cock entering you fully. “I’ll—shit!—I’ll come if you keep going.”

“I want you to come,” you respond honestly, realizing you have all the time in the world to fuck Minho if he wants it too. “I know you’ll be able to go again soon anyway.”

He hums and continues pistoning into you quickly, filling you up fully. You’re always surprised at how fast and sharply he can move, how easily he can make you feel good, how he just seems to fit, in all possible ways. “Sure you want me to come?”

“Positive,” you coo, stretching your leg out and moving it up so you can rest it on his left shoulder and allow Minho even better access to your heat. 

“Oh, you really want this,” he notes as he grabs hold of your leg and pushes it closer to his torso, wrapping an arm around it while the other one moves down to smack your tit. “What’s gotten into you?”

Minho is right—you weren’t this needy when you last slept with him. All this time on the island has got you to think about him more, and now you’re acting like you’re desperate. Well, you are, but he doesn't have to know. 

“You,” you tell him sweetly, getting up on your elbows so you’re closer to him, even if your leg is separating your torsos. “And now I really want to feel you come.”

When you say that, Minho lets his chest fall down on you almost all the way, your leg caught between your bodies. This way, he can kiss you, which seems to be what he wants. It’s sweaty and warm and sloppy, but you love every second of it—it sparks a fire inside of you, making you want to come over and over again, making you never want to stop feeling Minho so close to you.

“Just like that, keep going,” you urge him, grunting the words, face distorted with pleasure his cock is giving you on repeat. Thrust after thrust, he stays hard and precise, not changing his pace. “Come for me, baby, want to feel it…”

Minho moans loudly and pushes your leg to the side, once again finding himself between your legs, head nuzzled up to your neck. His hands grab your ass and lift it off the bed slightly so he can hold it in place and pump himself into you. He used to do it like that too—grab your hips and just thrust, rut desperately into you, fall apart on top of you. You like the position just as much as you did back then, if not more now that you’re older and know how to appreciate when someone enjoys your body this much.

“You’re gonna take it all for me, pretty, huh?” Minho mumbles under his breath, voice shaky, and you know he’s so close he can feel it already. “You have to take it all if you want me to come that much…”

“I want to make you keep coming all fucking night,” you admit shamelessly, fingers grazing his arm and moving up to his hair so you can tug at it harshly, knowing Minho loves it. “You sound so sweet when you moan, Minho… Don’t want it to stop.”

Your mind goes dizzy when he moans your name over and over again, his movements getting sloppy, thrusts shallow. That’s when you know he’s close—when he stops giving you deep, long strokes that you prefer and opt for the shallow ones that keep the head of his cock stimulated, that get him to ejaculate quickly. “Keep going, baby, can’t wait to hear you come for—”

You don’t even finish the sentence, and Minho is already grunting your name, his teeth sinking into the skin of your neck. His hips jerk into yours quickly, thrust after thrust, sloppy and messy as he chases his high and tries to prolong it. It feels perfect—having Minho panting on top of you as he tries to calm his breathing down after reaching his high. 

He relaxes a little, letting his body rest against yours, which you use as an opportunity to wrap all your limbs around him and kiss the side of his face over and over again, despite you both being sweaty and sticky, your fingers running through his hair as he breathes. With time, his breathing gets slower, less audible, and Minho moves away, even though you don’t want him to. 

But, he gets up just to get rid of the condom. Once he does that, Minho gets back in bed with you, naked and sweaty, and you wrap your arm and leg around his body, pulling him in closer. It’s funny how you always have a lot to say to each other, but you’re suddenly both out of words, just basking in the post-orgasm bliss.

It feels nice, just the way it used to, having his body next to yours after sex that leaves you both speechless, his fingers gently caressing your upper arm as his hand keeps you pressed into his chest. It’s something that was so easy to get used to back then, and you don’t think much has changed—you can see yourself doing this more often, especially since it feels so right with him.

Slowly but surely, the situation changes from you two just lying there to cuddling to full-blown sex, this time a lot softer than before. Minho is now on top of you, once again wearing a condom, but this time taking his sweet time with you.

The thrusts are lazy, and he makes you feel every inch of him as he gently pushes in and pulls halfway out. It’s slow and steady, lips kissing, tongues playing as Minho fucks you. It’s more of a love-making type of situation, but you’d never say that out loud, not after the insanity you’ve put this man through.

“Pretty,” he hums, thumb running across your lips when you take a short break from kissing. You’re once again mesmerized by the shadows that play in his eyes, reflecting the light that’s coming into the room through the blinds, making him look even sweeter than he usually does. “Always feel so good.”

“You too, Minho,” you’re quick to respond with a smile as your hands move to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. You just want to have your hands on every part of him, feel every inch of him under your fingertips, and have him close. “You’re so good at all of this… Don’t want you to stop.”

“At this pace, we won’t stop,” he chuckles, referring to the fact that the sex you’re having is extremely lazy and slow, yet it brings you both a ton of pleasure. You really could go all night like this, so you tell him just that. 

As always, Minho has something to say. “You’re gonna be so sore tomorrow, though, if we keep going all night…”

“You’ll kiss it better,” you suggest, which makes Minho chuckle and shake his head at you. 

Does he remember the time he practically ruined you with sex so much that it hurt to sit, so he ate you out for hours to make you feel better? It’s something you won’t forget, not because of the pain, but because of all the pleasure he gave you and how sweetly he took care of you after. That’s how everything with Minho was. Even if he fucked up or hurt you somehow—which rarely happened—he’d make it all better, comfort you, show you he is always there. 

“Just call me,” Minho says before leaning in to kiss you again. His hair is wet by now, both of you sticky with sweat, and neither one of you cares. Despite that, he looks perfect, and the wet hair just makes it all even hotter—you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you so long they were completely wet after. “Always ready to kiss it better. Maybe even fuck it better if you’re nice enough.”

The promise in his words makes you clench around him even harder, your body wanting to keep his cock in you longer. Does he mean it? Maybe Minho really wants you to call him when you get back to real life. Maybe he doesn’t want you to go back to being strangers, which is one of your biggest fears at this point. “When am I not nice to you?” 

He giggles loudly, cocking his head to the side, eyes narrowed into slits as he looks at you suspiciously. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to charm me, pretty.”

“And what if I am?” you ask the question even though you’ve promised yourself you wouldn’t broach this topic anytime soon, not until you’ve put your thoughts in order. So much has happened, and you haven’t really processed any of it—your feelings are too strong now for you to make sense of them. Therefore, it would be best to just keep your mouth shut until you get yourself together.

But, you’re tipsy and completely overwhelmed by everything you feel for Minho. Plus, he’s fucking you well and being so sweet to you, making you feel like you’re the only person in the world that matters and all of that makes you a bit stupid for him.

Minho looks at you for a second or two before the corners of his lips turn upwards. The smile he gives you is one that makes your stomach turn with excitement—you’ve seen it so many times before. “You’ve already charmed me.”

Your heart jumps up and starts to beat erratically when you register his words, when you realize there is still something there, just like there is on your end. Since you’re at a loss for words, you pull your ex in closer and kiss him, shove your tongue inside his mouth, fingers moving down to dig into his ass cheek as he speeds up a little bit. It’s perfect, all of it.

Maybe Chris is right. After all, all this time, you thought loving someone unconditionally meant coddling them and agreeing with them on everything, having them believe it’s you two against the world, thinking you have to have the same opinion on everything. You’ve never had that with Minho, yet he’s still in your corner. 

He’s here right now, supporting you in this stupid plan of yours even if it hurts him, even if he disagrees with it. Most importantly, he’s told you how he feels about the whole thing, not letting you think you’re in the right here or that what you’re doing isn’t morally wrong. Isn’t that what unconditional means? After all these years?

You get lost in these thoughts while Minho fucks you. He’s not giving it to you hard, so it’s easy for you to drift into a weird headspace, one that reminds you of how good you had it with him, how stupidly it all ended, how you’ve never really dated anyone after, not the way you dated him—like you wanted it to last. That makes you feel sad, like you’ve spent years of your life hurting for no reason like you’ve wasted so much time you could have had with him, like you’ve hurt Minho for nothing, and that’s what stings the most. He was hurt because of you.

“I’m gonna hate myself for saying this, but it’s kind of hard to fuck you when I see your mind isn’t in it,” Minho grunts, his face hovering over yours as he stops his movements while he’s balls deep in you. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m… I’m here, I promise,” you say, wrapping both hands around his waist, pulling him in closer. You like having his warm skin under your fingertips, his eyes wide as they inspect your face for a sign of weakness, you presume, his lips an inch away from yours.

Minho looks at you so sweetly you feel terrible instantly, your skin getting goosebumps as a wave of cold washes over you. You’ve treated him terribly, and he’s always nice to you, a lot more than you deserve. The things Jisung said replay in your mind—you being selfish, you using him for your games, you not thinking about his feelings—making you feel even worse. Even after the way you’ve treated him last night, he’s still here, taking care of your needs. Any other guy as tipsy as Minho wouldn’t care about you seeming out of it, they wouldn’t stop to check up on you, wouldn’t be this kind. 

“Why are you tearing up, pretty?” Minho’s voice is laced with concern, so much that he pulls out of you but stays on top of your body. You prefer it that way because his presence comforts you. His hands move to cup your face, elbows resting on the bed. You feel surrounded by him—by the warmth of his body, the strong scent of him, his eyes peering into yours. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you… Forgive me?” You mutter the words, fighting back the sob that threatens to spill out of your mouth as your lips quiver. You can’t start crying right now, not in the middle of sex. You can’t do that to Minho after everything.

“Forgive you?” Minho frowns, clearly confused. His fingers gently brush away the hair from your face, like you’re his precious possession and he wants to make sure you’re safe and intact. His knuckles gingerly swipe across your cheek and end up on your chin, which his fingers cup so he can tilt your head upwards and make you look at him again, even if you’re ashamed of looking him in the eyes. “For what?”

How can you apologize for every single thing you’ve done? For all the years you’ve wasted? For the cruel things you’ve said just to spite him? For being such an idiot even yesterday? For never admitting how you feel? “Everything.”

Minho scoffs, shaking his head before leaning in to peck you. “Pretty, that doesn’t really help me out. What are you sorry for?”

“Not realizing you treated me so well back then. Even now, after all these years, during this stupid trip…” You let your voice trail off when your eyes meet and find him looking at you warmly. “Even now when I’m causing a scene in the middle of sex.”

“But these scenes bring some spice in the bedroom,” Minho jokes, trying to get you to laugh, which he accomplishes. He wipes away the tear that spills out of your eye when you laugh. “Do you want to talk about this?”

Do you? It’s Minho, after all. If anyone will get you, it’s him. If anyone can understand, it’s him. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m so confused.”

“Talk to me,” Minho asks of you, rolling to the side and sitting up in bed while you stay down. He pulls the sheet over your body, covering it. You have a great way of ruining things for people—his dick goes soft instantly. Seoyoon would probably gloat if she saw this.

Still, that’s not the main thing that’s on your mind. You look up at your ex and find him looking at you with a frown, his hand moving to pat your head gently, as if he’s trying to comfort you while you look for the right words.

“I’ve been thinking about, uh, us. Let’s give this another shot. Do you want that?” It takes you a lot of courage to ask that of him, face burning with shame because of how you’ve treated Minho all along, because you failed to see he meant the most to you. In fact, he’s the only one that you had something real with, something that you enjoyed, something you look back on happily. 

“This?” he repeats after you, voice sounding cold, confused. You can’t blame him, though. You didn’t really bother to explain anything. The last Minho knows is that you were going to confess to Chris.

“Us.” Silence ensues. Minho looks down at you with a frown, his hand going stiff against your skin, thumb no longer caressing you. You gulp and continue, “Let’s date again.” Your heart starts beating so loudly you almost don’t hear him when he responds.

“Where is this coming from?” Minho asks you, but his tone changes from warm to cold, and you feel his body stiffening next to yours. Rejection is near—you feel it in your bones—and you’re not sure how to explain your feelings well.

There’s just so much you feel for him, and you can’t possibly say it all now—it would take hours. “I… I feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

When you say that, Minho scoffs and gets up. In a matter of seconds, he has his underwear and pants on, the promise of all-night-long sex long forgotten, judging by the fact he seems determined to get the hell out of there.

“What’s wrong?” You sit up in bed and stare at him, taken aback by his reaction. You were expecting him to either say yes or no—Minho running away from you wasn’t an option in your head, not at all. He never runs away from things. “Talk to me.”

“Pretty, we’re not doing this tonight of all nights, okay?” your ex asks calmly as he looks at you from above, standing right next to the bed. “You don’t want this.”

“I… I know what I want,” you say with your full chest, wanting to convince him that he is what you want, but Minho shakes his head and scoffs.

“Are you sure of that? Up until today, you wanted Chris. Now you can’t have him, so you’re asking me to get back together,” Minho explains, tonguing his cheek. Your ex is clearly offended by your suggestion, which is the last thing you want. He’s got it all wrong. “I know we’re both tipsy and you’re hurt over the whole thing, but today is not the day we should have this conversation. I’m going to my room.”

With that, he puts his shirt on, leaving it half unbuttoned, and nods at you. Minho is frowning, and you’re certain you’ve ruined the night for him too, that he is no longer in the mood to have sex or go downstairs to have fun. Maybe you’ve brought up old memories and hurt him even more with them, and you didn’t want any of that.

“Minho, baby—” you start, wanting to tell him how you feel about him, wanting to apologize and beg him to forgive you, to give you a chance, if he still feels like it. 

You can’t promise him forever—you can’t promise him a year if you’re being honest because who knows what the future holds?—but you can promise that you’ll try to make it work this time. You won’t give up as easily, won’t let your stupid fears get in the way of what you two could have once again. The feelings are there, and so is the attraction. You work well together. What more is there to wish for? “I mea—”

But, Minho doesn’t seem to see it that way. He cuts you off, index finger pressing against your lips, shutting them close. “Don’t use that with me now.”

“Why not?” you whisper back once he moves his finger away from your face.

“You know I like it, and you can’t manipulate me into this,” Minho explains and shows you he knows you too well. Your heart stings at the realization—he thinks you’re manipulating him, that none of it is real. This time, he doesn’t believe you. “You can’t make this whole thing about us now when it’s been about Chris all along. You’re hurt and drunk and comfortable around me, which is why you’re doing this.”

Minho is right, you are all those things, but none of it is as it seems. You’re hurt because of the way you treated him—it has got nothing to do with Chris. You’re happy for him and Sunyoung, and you want Minho to be happy too, preferably with you. “It’s not just that, I sw—”

“Pretty,” Minho sighs, rubbing his temples as he closes his eyes and sighs, “you’re not sure. I know you. You’re impulsive and you seek comfort when your feelings get hurt. You’re willing to call me baby and sweet talk me into telling you it’s all good and that we’ll do this, but you know that’s not what you really want. Maybe you feel like it now, but when you step away for a second, you’ll have to do a lot of thinking. I don’t want you to regret any of this when you do. So, it’s not going to work, not tonight.”

“You, you… Don’t want it?” You hate the way your voice falters, making you sound even weaker than you actually feel, but it’s not something you can help. You feel like you’ve shown him all your cards, but it isn’t enough. Is that how he felt back then when you two broke up? Is this what you’ve done to him?

Minho sighs, leaning in to cup your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he takes in the sight of you. He sits down on the bed, and you feel a tinge of hope. Maybe he’ll stay with you. That’s all you need. “I want you, clearly… But not under these circumstances.”

“Not unconditionally?” You repeat the stupid word that’s been in your mind all this time. What even is that? Does unconditional exist?

“No,” Minho admits, making you gasp. 

Somehow, hearing that come out of his mouth breaks this illusion you have that he cares about you. It’s Chris and Jisung that put it into your head, that made you believe Minho might still feel the same way about you as he did back then when he loved you to bits. But, you’ve ruined that.

You broke up with the guy, avoided him, only talked to him at parties, then asked him to join you here to chase another man. In the meantime, you’ve slept with him every chance you got. It is a hot mess, and Minho has his life figured out. Why would he choose to do this to himself again? Besides, he told you not to make things into something they’re not, he warned you about sex with no feelings, and you stupidly ignored the warnings and went for what you wanted—him.

Since you’re too busy thinking about all of that to even speak, Minho goes on. “Well, what I feel for you is… Complicated. Not much can change it, is what I mean, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you walk all over me to get what you want. That’s what unconditional includes, right? And it’s not healthy. If you need that, pretty, you’re looking for a toy, not a partner.”

“I don’t mean it like that, I swear,” you say pleadingly, desperately gripping onto his shirt. You understand how he sees you and what he thinks about you, but it’s not exactly true. You are impulsive and you do seek comfort, but Minho… He’s the only one who can comfort you. Chris never could, which is why you didn’t sleep with him after you and Minho broke up—you couldn’t. “I don’t need a toy. I don’t need someone who’ll just agree with me on everything. I need you and your honesty. I know it’s… Out of the blue for you, but I’ve been thinking about it since that night in the bar. The last thing I want is to walk all over you.”

“By pushing this subject tonight of all nights, you are,” Minho explains, letting go of your face as your heart sinks into your stomach again. Are you treating him badly even now? You’re insisting on discussing something he said he doesn’t want to talk about. “If you really feel that way, it’s not gonna change, right? You don’t have to have me now, you don’t have to rush into it with me and feel like you have everything worked out tonight.”

“I don’t have to, you’re right,” you nod, feeling your eyes well up again, “but I know I want to.”

“Okay, you’ll know that in a couple of days then too.” He shrugs, knowing he’s made a good point. 

Minho is right—feelings like that don’t go away. 

But, what if he gets fed up with you? What if he goes back home and talks to Jisung, and his friend talks some sense into him? What if Minho realizes you’ve put him through a lot of shit to chase someone else for no reason? You’ve brought him here to chase Chris and then changed your mind. What guarantee does he have that you wouldn’t do the same with him? It would sound stupid to anyone, let alone an ex who knows you through and through. If all of this dawned on him, Minho definitely wouldn’t call you to hear your side of the story—what for? You’d lose him for good in that case.

“But what if you don’t?” you ask, not even sure he feels the same way now. All you’re running on is a hunch and things his friend and your ex best friend said. It’s nothing palpable, nothing that came from the man himself. If anything, he insinuated he had friendly feelings for you and could fuck you because the sex is great. That’s what he said—you could always have sex. Minho never promised more. 

“Hey…” He sighs, reaching for your face again, holding it in place. Minho’s eyes seem sad now, and he suddenly looks a lot more tired than he did minutes ago when he was inside of you. “Listen to me. I’m not rushing into something this serious with you on the night ‘the love of your life’ got married. It would be very stupid of me and it can only lead me down the same path you took me back then, because of the same guy. I can’t do this tonight. Take some time and figure out what you really want. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I, I can’t know that,” you tell him, feeling fear rush through you. What if you lose Minho for good? What if the next time you see him, he has someone better than you on his arm and he looks at her the way he looks at you? It stung with Chris, but nowhere near as much as the very idea of that happening with Minho stings. “What if another Seoyoon comes along?”

You don’t want anyone else to know all the little things you know about him. You don’t want other women to be let into his little world, you don’t want him to trust them enough to go into the water with him, to hold them tightly when he’s scared, or to keep them close when they are. You can’t stand it.

“Well, you weren’t worried about that these last five or so years,” Minho quips, a hint of anger in his voice, and he’s absolutely right. “Sorry. I just… You— My mind’s been fucked. I wanted to sleep with her just to get you out of my system, but I couldn’t even do that. I— If nothing’s changed all this time, it won’t in a week or two, okay? You have to think about others for a bit.”

“I’m being selfish, right?” you ask, even though you know the answer. Jisung has told you as much.

Minho is completely right. He hasn’t been in your life for years, and you haven’t even thought about getting back together with him, thinking he’s moved on a long time ago, thinking you’ve done the same thing. And now, you want it all with him and are so selfish you’re asking this of him like it’s an easy decision, especially after you’ve put him through some embarrassing stuff during this trip. And the trip itself is an embarrassment—for you, for Minho, and for whatever you want to have with him. He’s absolutely right about everything. 

So, you apologize with your full chest, meaning it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he whispers at you, and you realize he’s always putting your feelings first, even if his are hurt. He must be feeling terrible after everything that’s happened because of you, yet he’s here being gentle towards you. “Now I’m gonna go to my room and get some sleep. You do the same, okay? No hard feelings. You’re not a selfish person, but you’re not thinking clearly now. Sometimes, you have to put other people’s feelings first.”

Minho plants a gentle kiss on your forehead and stands up straight, nodding before he turns around and starts walking away. He smells like sex and himself and the shirt he’s wearing is barely buttoned, and he runs his hand through his hair in a manner that makes it look pitiful, that makes him look hurt, and that’s the last thing you want. So, you call his name, and when he looks at you over his shoulder with a cocked-up eyebrow, you admit, “I care about you.”

Minho turns around to face you. You’re not sure what you expect—it could go many ways, take many directions. He stays silent, face cold as he eyes you and walks over to the bed again. Minho leans in and places his palm under your chin, tilting it up, his fingers digging into your cheeks as his eyes stare right at yours, gaze ice cold. “Am I fucking joke to you?” he asks and grins in a way that makes him seem angry. “Is that it?”

“You were never a joke to—”

Minho grips your chin tighter, which is a sign you should stop talking, so you do. You can see you’ve upset him again, and it’s time to let him speak. “I just explained to you how I felt yesterday. I told you I was treated like a joke because of Chris. I came up here with you because I didn’t want you to be hurt and alone. I know you’re suffering right now, I can see it on you, I know when you’re hurt. And I couldn’t let you go to your room alone and cry and be all by yourself.”

He says that and gulps, eyes shifting between your eyes and lips. Is that the only reason why he’s here—he just wanted to comfort you? “I’ve been trying to take your feelings into account every step of the fucking way, pretty, I really have. I have tiptoed around you, not wanting to say something that would hurt you. I’ve let you treat me like an idiot, sleep with me and then make me hang out with the guy you really want, leave me waiting for hours while you have fun, I—” He pauses, face scrunching as he grimaces. “You really don’t give a fuck about what I feel, do you?”

“I do!” You know you’re not supposed to interrupt, that Minho is hurt and that you’re the reason behind it, that he feels like you’ve treated him horribly, but you can’t let him think you don’t care about him. “I do.”

“Really?” he asks with a snicker that sounds cold, detached. “You care, but you have no problem walking all over me like that? I’ve just asked you to drop this subject. You can’t play with my feelings anymore, pretty. I’m not your toy, but you don’t want to accept that. You have to have the last word, have to tell me you care, you can’t let me leave this fucking room not feeling hurt, right? Because if you’re hurt and alone, why wouldn’t I be too?”

Tears are streaming down your face, have been for a while as you listen to your ex list all the things that you’ve done wrong, all the different ways you’ve hurt him, and you understand him. That’s what hurts the most—you get why he feels that way, and you know you wouldn’t forget anyone for treating you that way.

“Now, I’m going to go to my room. I don’t want to hear an I miss you, I care about you, or I’m sorry. If you really give a fuck about me, you won’t say any of that.”

You sob, feeling like you have no options—those are the things you want to tell him, that is everything he should know. The feeling in your chest starts suffocating you and you sob again, trying hard not to cry out loud in front of him, teeth chattering as you shiver.

Minho releases the grip on your cheeks, but his palm is still holding your chin up. He takes a deep breath and his gaze follows a tear that falls out of your eye and travels down to your lip with his gaze as he sighs. “I hate seeing you cry. I came here to comfort you, but I can’t stay because this conversation is making me angry and upset and sad, and I have to put my feelings first tonight. Okay?”

You nod, still crying, trying not to do it loudly. You understand why he needs to get away from you—you’re just sad that he feels this need. You never felt like you needed to be away from him. Even when you two argue, you’d much rather have Minho around than be separated from him, thinking he’s hurt and alone.

“Don’t cry. You’re still my pretty girl.” His thumb wipes away a tear off your cheek. “Go to bed, sleep it all off before you say things you will regret. Good night.”

“Minho, I, I—” You want to tell him not to leave, you want to beg him to stay and hug you, you want to hold him and apologize until the morning. But, he’s asked you not to say those three things, and you can’t disrespect him like that. You can’t be selfish, no matter how much you want to. “I’m glad you have that present. It was meant only for you, every word. Just you.” That’s the closest you can get to telling him how you feel without actually saying it. Minho nods and lets go of your face, quickly making his way to the door before you can stop him and pull him back in again. Once he’s out of the room, you wrap the sheet around your body and allow yourself to cry for all that could and should have been.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

It’s such a fucking mess, all of it. As Minho walks out of your room and towards his own, he feels terrible, even if there’s no real reason behind these feelings. He just told you the truth, like he always does. In fact, that’s what you like about him as a person. In some cases, the truth hurts, but you’re a big girl and you usually handle it well. Not tonight. Maybe your reaction has a lot to do with the fact that the guy you wanted and clearly still want is about to get married, that he only has eyes for Sunyoung, that he isn’t ashamed to say it to anyone who’ll listen. 

Maybe a part of you is angry because of him and Seoyoon and the whole elevator scene. After all, Minho is here to play along with your silly plan, and him fucking Sunyoung’s mom doesn’t fit in—it just makes you look like a cheated-on girlfriend. Granted, that could look good with Chris if you go cry to him about it before you admit your feelings. 

Maybe it’s all that combined with the fact that Minho told you how he really feels about all of this. He doesn’t think your plan will work, doesn’t really think it should work—you and the guy couldn’t be more different. It’s never going to happen. You’re going to learn that the hard way tomorrow, and Minho will be there for you if you need a shoulder to cry on, that’s what he’s good at, that’s why he’s here. So why did he sleep with you yesterday? It was stupid of him to do that when you are clearly caught up in the disappointment you’re feeling over this thing with Chris. You want the guy, he doesn’t want you, and your time on this island is just proving to you that you two are not meant to be, which has to hurt. Logically, it shouldn’t, but Minho knows that even if someone isn’t right for you, even if they don’t want you, you can feel hurt over them for a long time.

Of course you’re feeling hurt and confused. It’s no wonder you ran back into his arms tomorrow—Chris and Sunyoung were acting all lovey-dovey, you caught them sleeping together on the beach and just realized that he loves her, which is pretty obvious to anyone who looks at the couple. It hurt you so you found some comfort in the familiarity of it all with Minho. It’s easy to fall into the same old patterns and let feelings like lust cloud your judgment, so he didn’t assign any meaning to what happened yesterday, at least not on your end. You wanted comfort and he happened to be there ready to give it to you. At this point, Minho is sure he’s the only one who knows exactly what you need to hear and feel to feel better, and he can say the same about you. A random quick fuck wouldn’t make him feel all these things he’s been feeling since that night at the bar, when you two danced and you looked at him like you used to, let him have you like so many times before… So, it’s clear why you chose him out of all the guys here.

He should have been smarter and turned you down. Minho should have said no, should have kept you company, or found something else you two could do to take your mind off of things. Instead, he gave in to his stupid urges and fucked you like he did back then, like you were the only person he ever wanted. It’s so funny how people are different when they have sex with you. One minute, you two are talking about you and Chris and how he’s the guy for you. The next, you’re calling Minho your baby and telling him you only want to fuck him. If he weren’t as immune to your charms by now, Minho would have fallen for it, would have gotten even more hurt.

Right now, he’s only hurt because you think he’s not your friend, that he’s stuck in the past and hates Chris—which is kind of true, but hate is a strong word—and that he doesn’t want you to be happy. You’re in your room, crying over everything, and you don’t want him close. Your tears on his shirt are a clear reminder of that, so he palms his chest until he finds the wet spot and swears at himself for taking things too far. He shouldn’t have been that straightforward, shouldn’t have told you everything that you seem to believe in is a lie.

Minho is positive you’re not 100% sure of this thing. He knows you can’t believe that this guy is the one for you, that he’s worth all this trouble, but Minho is also certain you’re having a hard time letting go of the idea. If you do, you’ll have to accept that you’ve done all of this for nothing and that you’ve almost ruined a wedding or a friendship with Chris on a simple whim. What’s hitting you even harder, he believes, is the possibility of you ending up alone. Chris is familiar, Minho is too, and you do better with familiar than unknown. It’s easier for you to believe that love will be born out of that than that a perfect guy will suddenly appear in your life, take his time with you, and that you’ll both fall for each other completely. That doesn’t happen often. It hasn’t happened to either of you since you two broke up, that much is clear.

That’s why he believes you’re holding onto this idea and refusing to see things for what they are. But, Minho shouldn’t have been that harsh on you. He could have waited to let you know how he feels about this stupid idea, he should have picked his words wisely, should have gone easy on you. No matter how annoyed and hurt and drunk he felt, he shouldn’t have forgotten that you were also dealing with problems of your own. He expected you to get a bit upset and a part of him thought you had it coming. But, he never even thought you could come to the conclusion that he didn’t want you to be happy.

The whole thing sounds ridiculous, but Minho really hopes you said that because you were drunk and hurt. You’ve said a lot of stupid shit to him when you got drunk and hurt over something back in the day, but you took it back the next time you two talked. So, Minho is kind of expecting you to apologize tomorrow. He’ll apologize too, for crossing boundaries and for making you think he’s not on your side. He is, no matter how stupid your plan is, no matter how hurt it is going to get you in the end.

Minho loved you for a long time, a lot longer than you probably deserved. That’s what Jisung told him, that’s what his friends told him. Hell, that was even what his mom told him once he explained why you two weren’t together anymore. Yet, he never really felt that was true. Who deserves to be loved? Does anyone? It’s either everyone or no one. Everyone has skeletons in their closets, some scarier than others. Everyone fucks up and has flaws. Minho is very well aware of his: he’s stubborn, has a tendency to be too logical and not understand why people do the things they do or feel the things they feel when logically, they shouldn’t. He is loyal to a fault though. But, he’s only loyal when he’s in love and when he wants to be with someone, which hasn’t happened for the longest time.

When he comes back to his room, he plops down on the bed and just stares at the ceiling in complete silence and darkness, wondering how the hell things turned out so bad. This was supposed to be fun. Minho thought you wouldn’t go through with the plan once you saw Chris and realized he wasn’t what you wanted and that he was in love with the woman he’s about to marry. From that point on, he expected you two to have a great time, eat and drink well, and make some memories together. He was wrong. 

Minho also thought that you two would get closer again. He wasn’t even thinking about a relationship—he’s given up on those a long time ago. He just doesn’t have the time to invest in dating and making someone his priority right now, and that’s the only type of relationship he’d want to have. Half-assed shit isn’t worth a minute of his time. But, Minho was hoping that spending time together would make you realize some of the things he’s known all along, like that you two could make great friends. You know each other well. Even back then, you just clicked and understood each other.

Even when he is simply using logic and it makes him sound cruel and heartless, you understand that he is just weighing the pros and cons. If the importance of the pros outweighs that of the cons, he couldn’t grasp why people would get stuck too on things and refuse to move on. But, even if you understand his personality and character, you think he doesn’t have your best interest at heart, which is so far from the truth it actually gets under his skin—he always puts you first.

When you two would run into each other at parties and talk for a while before this whole thing, Minho always made a point out of asking you how you were, and he wasn’t just asking in passing. He truly wanted to know if you were happy and safe, if you needed someone to talk to. After you two broke up, he didn’t want to see you for months, didn’t want to hear about you, he couldn’t. But, when he started going out more and he started seeing you out here and there, he walked over his pride and talked to you. 

Minho isn’t a selfish person, so seeing you, his ex, dance and talk to other guys didn’t hurt him as much as he expected it to. If other people made you happier, they were the better choice. If you wanted to dance and have fun and kiss and date them, Minho didn’t have a say in it. He couldn’t help but notice how Chris was never around you at these parties, not that way, at least. The dude broke you two up and wanted Minho out of your life just so he could continue being your friend and number one fan. It wasn’t fair, but it is all over now. 

Slowly, but surely, he got over his feelings for you, even if it took him months longer than you. It was only then that Minho started going out with the intent of meeting someone. When he finally met someone he liked enough to have sex with, his body didn’t cooperate. He blamed it on the alcohol, said he had too much to drink and couldn’t get it up, but Minho knew it was his feelings. It felt strange to have someone else touch him the way only you did for the longest time. It felt new and unfamiliar, uncomfortable even, feeling someone’s fingers on his skin, tasting them, realizing they’re not you. They weren’t necessarily worse than you in any way—they just weren’t you. Thankfully, he got over that with time.

When he thinks about this period of his life, Minho grunts loudly, remembering Seoyoon. The thing with her is just a painful reminder of what a fuck up he’s been this entire trip. First, he slept with you and then he tried to fuck someone else when you were right there. It wouldn't have made him feel any better, anyway. Why did his body do that to him again, though? It only happened to him a time or two before, right after your break up. And here he is, years later, with a dick that still refuses to work after it gets a taste of you.

Because his mind refuses to stop thinking about his failure to perform with Seoyoon, Minho takes his phone out of his pants and dials her number. It rings twice before she picks up. “Hey,” Seoyoon says in the tone she uses with him only, the tone that makes her intentions clear. “Was wondering if you were going to call.”

Minho instantly remembers how openly she came onto him, how she offered him to go up to her room and spend the night with her, how she told him he was exactly what she was looking for—young, handsome, charming. Her hand on his thigh, crawling up to his crotch, his lips next to his ear, talking about his dick in her… And yet, throughout the whole ordeal, his eyes could only focus on you and Chris and how he held you and you laughed and didn’t even look at Minho. You had promised him you would be there and you weren’t.

“I… I’m sorry about earlier,” he starts, unsure of how else to say it. The lady offered, but he couldn't perform. She tried her best and it still couldn’t happen. It’s embarrassing, but she didn’t ask to be dragged into your mess. No, his mess—you didn’t drag Seoyoon into this, Minho and his stupid little hurt feelings did. “It’s not you at all, trust me.”

“I know it’s not me,” she purrs into the phone, chuckling. “Why would it be me? You’re clearly going through something with your girlfriend. Is she even your girlfriend anymore?”

You haven’t been his girlfriend for the longest time, but she doesn’t know that. Are you still even friends after tonight? “That’s… Between us.”

“Yeah, I get that…” Seoyoon lets her voice trail off before she hums. “But if you’re both as miserable together as you’ve been claiming to be and you tried to fuck me earlier, I don’t see what you’re doing together. Be happy on your own.”

She has a point. Of course, she doesn't know that you’re both miserable even if you’re not together and that neither one of you is good with dealing with feelings for each other, no matter how friendly they are. “We’ll… Figure something out. I don’t know now.” His head is pulsating from all the drinks and the embarrassment and the pain in his chest he’s been feeling ever since he talked to you. Thinking only makes it worse. He just wants to not think.

“I know, it’s difficult to cut ties with someone. I’ve just been through a divorce myself, which is a bit different, but feelings are involved in both cases,” she explains, and Minho remembers the conversation they had when Sunyoung was around. Her mom talked about her divorce and wanting to start fresh and Minho talked about you. Since he didn’t feel like lying straight to their faces, he just talked about how it used to be. “Anyway, if you’re still interested, I’m in room 304.”

“What?” His eyes snap open and stare at the ceiling again, even if the room is lightly spinning now.

She giggles again. “If you want to come to my room and sleep with me, I’m in 304.”

“And you don’t care that I have a girlfriend?” Minho is not sure why this matters as much as it does, but that’s how he feels. 

“Do you care?” Seoyoon scoffs at his question. “You dragged me out of that room and let me try to go down on you. I didn’t hear you mention her then.”

That’s true. Minho didn’t mention you, but you were all he could think about. That’s why his dick didn’t work. It couldn’t. There were no feelings there when Seoyoon took his flaccid cock in her mouth and tried to make it grow hard. He finds her attractive, but nothing more than that. You, on the other hand… You’re attractive alright, but there’s so much more there that he can’t even explain it to himself, let alone you or Seoyoon or anyone else. There’s more than just sex, and once Minho got a taste of that, sex just isn’t enough. “What I did was wrong, Seoyoon,” he says sincerely, his fingers finding the still damp spot on his chest where your tears landed and wet the fabric earlier. “I shouldn’t have left with you, I’m sorry. Me and—Me and my girlfriend go back a long way and even if we’re not doing the best right now, I shouldn't be sleeping with other people.”

That’s what he means, even if it’s not completely honest. You are not together, but he shouldn’t have made a move on someone else the day after he slept with you, no matter how obsessed you seem to be with Chris. Whether you’d do the same with Chris or someone else is not his problem—his actions are. 

“Well, she knows we tried to hook up but didn’t,” Seoyoon points out, sounding less amused the more she talks. Minho closes his eyes and rubs his temple, hoping the pulsating sound will stop. “She didn’t even flinch or react to that. Looked like she didn’t care. Did she even fight with you over it?”

And why would you care? You’re his fake girlfriend, nothing more. “That’s between us,” he repeats the same thing he said earlier, but he’s not about to dive into this fake relationship with Sunyoung’s mom. 

“Fine,” she hums, “I hope she doesn’t break your heart. You’re too young to be settling down with someone who doesn’t pay attention to you. You’ve been alone most of the time, taking walks, drinking by the bar… If you love her, make sure she loves you too.”

Minho hangs up. He doesn’t want to hear this shit right now. He just called to apologize so he doesn’t feel like a total idiot for doing what he did. Seoyoon is right, though—you didn’t bat an eye in that elevator, not even when he admitted to trying to fuck her. You two are not together, nowhere near it, but he fucked you yesterday. You spent such a good afternoon together where you laughed more than he’s seen you laugh this entire trip. Minho had more fun than he did in the last couple of months—he felt like his old, carefree self again. 

Yet, as soon as Chris came along, you started ignoring him again. And he turned to Seoyoon. Morally, it shouldn’t be wrong, but it does feel that way. If Chris offered you sex, you would have jumped on that opportunity even if you were under Minho when Chris called, and he couldn’t feel bad about it. Minho knew what he was getting himself into when he said yes to this.

That’s a whole different thing he doesn’t want to think about. Why did he say yes to this? His friend called again, telling Minho how stupid he was. “I don’t blame her at all, Minho, I really don’t,” Jisung muttered into the phone the second Minho picked up that day. “She fucked you over back then, but you were both young and immature. Yet, here you are, years later, putting yourself in the same situation as before. You’re literally asking for her to hurt you all over again, and for what? You two are not even together. You’re in a fake relationship with someone you’d like to be in a relationship with again, if the timing was right and you two cared about each other enough to make it work.”

“I don’t want—” Minho started to defend himself, explaining that he wasn’t doing any of it to get you back, but he got cut off.

Jisung scoffed and continued, “Minho, don’t lie to me. If you didn’t care about her at all, you would have laughed at her face and said no to her plan. Or you just wouldn’t go there with her. But you chose to go. I don’t care how fucking well you think you can compartmentalize, nobody can do it this well. You can’t be around an ex you cried over for months and just think you can stay friends and be her wingman. You can’t. Get out of there before you get fucked over again.”

“I’m not going to get fucked, trust me.” He firmly believed it then, even if things were already starting to get messy. 

Jisung must have found it weird because he asked, “Yeah, you’re not?”

It was yesterday, before the pool, before everything, before the whole thing went up in flames. He should have fucking listened to his friend. Minho shouldn’t have let himself give in to his urges—not with you, not with Seoyoon. 

His mind takes him to the party, to him sitting there all alone, watching you being a social butterfly and talk to Sunyoung like you’re not trying to fuck her future husband, talk to her like you’re friends. You are, though. You like Sunyoung—Minho can tell by the way you smile when you talk to her. You can’t hide many things with your face. People who know you can read your feelings off it, and Minho knows you well. You like her, which is strange considering your predicament. You should hate Sunyoung and try to avoid her, but you’re not doing that.

You like Chris too—you always relax and go back to being the real you when you’re around him, just like you do around Minho. There’s no pretense in you when you talk to the two of them, nothing is forced. Yet, Minho can’t see any love there, let alone lust. He can’t remember if he’s ever seen you look at Chris with that look that Minho knows too well, the one you’ve given him at the pool more than once, the one you always give him when you go down on your knees for him, when he does the same for you. He can’t even imagine you having sex with Chris. Your energies are different and nobody would make the first move there, like Minho has been saying all along.

Because of all these logical conclusions, what Minho doesn’t get is how you’re still stuck on this idea of fucking Chris being perfect for you. Chris?! Minho’s perception of him has changed since that night at the bar. He walked all over himself for you, for a chance of making you happy, even if it meant he’d have to stop being happy and remove himself from the equation. But that was Minho, always logical. 

Yes, he had feelings for you even back then, even when you had only spent three months together, but if there was a chance you and Chris had deeper feelings, it would have been better for Minho to let you two be happy together. Yes, it would have hurt his feelings, but logically, it was better. It would make two out of three people happy, which made it the right thing to do.

So, he offered this opportunity to Chris and watched the guy turn down this possible future with you. He was a coward who liked an image of you he had in his head, the little innocent perfect you he kept for himself and just fantasized about. When given the chance to act on it, to call you and confess his feelings, Chris chickened out, even with all that alcohol in him. It was because him doing that would break the spell, would make your friend come to terms with the fact that you were not a sweet little innocent untouched girl he could keep all for himself, and he wasn’t the sweet selfless friend who had your best interest at heart. 

And yet, here you are thinking he’s the guy for you. You can’t be that blind. Minho isn’t the guy for you either, clearly, but this has got nothing to do with him. Sure, Minho loved you a lot back then, and some of those feelings are still in him. You’ll never be just another person to him, he’ll never look at you and not have his heart jump up in his chest when he recognizes you, your words will always be able to hurt him more than anyone else’s. But that’s because you were the first and only person he’s opened up to, he’s invited into his life, he’s loved without the fear of losing. So, it’s only natural that Minho feels that way and that he still wants to see you happy. That’s it—he wants you happy, even if it means you don’t want to be his friend anymore, that you think he’s a terrible guy who doesn’t want you to end up with the “love of your life”—which is a total joke, in his opinion—that you doubt his intentions. So, Minho gets up, splashes some cold water on his face, and picks up his phone again. It might be immoral, but it’s something he needs to do. He needs to prove to himself that he can, that he’s not what you think he is, and that he can move on.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

Once you two walk into your hotel room, the mood changes, but Minho’s still pouting as he watches you take off your shoes, walk over to the bed, and sit on it. You’re not sure what to tell him, but you’re glad he’s here at least. He could be out there with Seoyoon, taking out his frustrations with you on her in the best way imaginable. Somehow, the thought irks you.

“You know, you two have a lot in common,” your ex points out with a snicker, leaning against the wall that connects the hallway with your room. His voice is laced with annoyance, and you completely understand him at this point. “Can’t keep a promise to save your life.” 

“I’m sorry about not paying more attention to you down there,” you apologize again, meaning it. Minho has every right to be upset with you—you begged him to come with you, promising you’d stay with him just to get lost in the crowd and leave him on his own. He didn’t want to be there, but he came for you, and you let him down. “I’m stupid and tipsy. I should have checked in on you every couple of songs.”

It’s not that good of an excuse, nothing is, but it’s the truth. You wanted some time alone to think and time got away from you.

“You should have, but you can’t be worrying about promises when you’re dancing with Chris!” Minho mutters, loosening his tie enough to pull it off over his head. Then, he throws it on a chair next to your bed and huffs. “Promises don’t mean shit to you anyway. Never have.”

You know he’s drunk and there is no point in arguing, but you can’t help it when he’s attacking your personality. It hurts even more after yesterday, after the pool, after having his hands on you again. “You’re being too harsh. What other promise have I broken?”

Minho doesn’t respond. Instead, he stops leaning against the wall and walks over to where you’re sitting, standing right above you. It all feels so intimate, even more so because it’s not sexual at all. Yet, he’s standing right above you, looking down at you with a glare that shows you exactly how he feels about you. “We’re leaving in two days,” he informs you, making himself seem drunker than you thought he was. 

What’s that got to do with your conversation? “I know, Minho.”

He scoffs at you, eyes focusing on yours. “Okay. When am I getting my reward, then? Yesterday wasn’t my reward.”

The reward! Hearing him say the word reminds you of why he’s really here and what this is all about. You’ve been dumb, letting yourself think about Minho a bit too much, trying to bring an old thing back to life just because he’s said some nice words and treated you well when you were around each other. 

He’s just here because he’s getting laid—end of. You’re an idiot for trying to assign meaning to something that just isn’t there, for making this whole thing out to be something it is clearly not. Minho is still just a guy and is thinking with his dick. Didn’t he just try to fuck Seoyoon? If his dick worked earlier, he would be in her right now and not here with you.

“Oh. Do you want it now?” you bluff, knowing he’s not going to say yes. He’s too drunk for that, and so are you, and that’s not how Minho has sex. The last time you had it, you were both tipsy but could still think straight. The way he scoffs at you annoys you, makes you think he’s mocking you all over again. He’s here just for sex, once again. “You just said you couldn’t get it up for Seoyoon, so…”

“Classy. No, I don’t want to fuck you,” he spits the words out and turns you down without even giving it a second thought. “I’m just checking how committed you are to this insanity.”

The way Minho stresses the word rubs you the wrong way. Where is this coming from now, a day before the wedding? You’re probably just annoyed because he’s judging you, but it’s hard to think straight with that much alcohol in your system, with all the bottled-up frustration and disappointment with yourself. Besides, hearing him say he doesn’t want to sleep with you again does hurt.

“Need I remind you that you said yes to this?” you snap back, standing up so you two are face to face. The moment becomes a lot more intimate since your chests are touching, but there’s nothing sexual about it. Well, maybe a little bit, but only because you know how good make-up sex is with Minho.

“Yes, for the free trip and booze.” As always, Minho has a response up his sleeve. “The more I realize you're going through with it, the more I regret saying yes.”

“What’s there for you to regret?” you can’t help but ask, wondering why he’s suddenly feeling this way about the whole thing when he seemed amused earlier. In fact, he’s the one who seems to be giving you chances to be alone with Chris.

Minho gulps, gaze flying down before he looks at you again, the cockiness wiped away from his face. “I was supposed to be a pretend boyfriend and not someone you hate.”

“What?” you breathe the word out, hearing your own voice quiver. He thinks that, after everything? “I don’t hate you, Minho. I could never.” 

Minho practically rolls his eyes at you. “You’re telling everyone you’re not happy and want to break up with me. You didn’t even talk to me the entire night. Everyone thinks you hate me. News travels fast, pretty.”

The whole thing is kind of ridiculous, so you have to chuckle, which makes him wince. “We’re not together!” you mutter at your ex, still confused about the whole thing. He agreed on this whole thing with you, he said yes to it. “Why do you care if I say that to people?”

“I don’t!” Minho could never hide his feelings well, and annoyance is once again written all over his face. 

“Then what’s this all about?” 

Are you really going to discuss this now? You might as well now that you have asked that question. Your mind is all over the place this week. You came here to try to see if Chris and you would work, not to reminisce about your past with Minho.

He sighs as if he’s tired of everything, and his facial expressions mirror that. “Maybe I do care. You know I like people to like me, and all these folks think I’m the worst boyfriend out there,” Minho says with a look that makes you feel sorry for him. 

“Maybe if you stopped bickering with me in public, they wouldn’t,” you suggest, even though you feel bad for everything. There’s something about him that always makes you want to contradict him, get him angry, and you hate that about yourself. “Also, try not fucking the mother of the bride the night before the wedding.”

He leans in, mouth an inch away from yours. “Yeah, because then you’d act like you’re all in love with me. Your plan sucks,” he spits the words at you, eyes peering into yours as his narrow into slits. Oh, Minho is pissed. “You didn’t make him jealous. You came here with a guy you clearly hate and have been telling everyone you’re not happy. Why would Chris jump at that opportunity?”

Minho’s words shouldn’t hurt, but they do. He’s drunk and disappointed with you, so you should just ask him to leave and continue this conversation tomorrow. That would be the wise thing to do, the thing that would stop you both from saying things you don’t mean, from hurting the other.

But, you’re childish and stupid and you think you deserve to get hurt, so you play along, muttering a mean “Fuck you” before moving to the hallway, unable to stand being so close to him. Minho always looks at you in a way that makes it impossible for you to get mad at him, so you can’t stand so close to him and look right at his face when he has that kind of power over you.

As if he senses you’re avoiding looking at him, Minho follows you, his body suddenly right in front of yours while your back is turned to the wall. You have no choice but to look at him, and your ex doesn’t seem happy with what you’ve just told him.

“Fuck me? Oh, wow. You really can’t stand it when people tell you the truth. You want someone like Chris who will keep indulging you. That’s what he always did, right?” Minho pauses to scoff at you, reminding you of just how ridiculous he finds you. “Even back then, he could never stand up to you or disagree with you, and you were the same. You built your whole attraction to each other based on these personalities you both completely fucking faked, and Chris knows that. Years later, you still don’t.”

“And how would you know?” you grunt, feeling the urge to push him away from you or kiss him just to get him to stop saying all these things you don’t want to hear. Not tonight, not when you feel like your entire life is a mess. “None of this is true, and Chris doesn't think like you. Don't act like you know him. You were a part of my life for only a while, and he didn’t like you. I didn’t either.”

Minho snickers, a look of spite igniting in his eyes. His hands slam the wall right above your shoulders, trapping you. “So you’re saying you lied to me for more than a year?” His voice gives off how annoyed you’ve made him, but you’re not afraid of him—you never have been. Minho would never hurt you or even raise his voice at you, never has. Still, his words make you shudder for a completely different reason. “You filled a box with 365 reasons you love me for my birthday so I have one for every day of the year for what exactly then? Thinking of Chris while writing them, huh?”

You did do that and you meant every single one of those reasons. It took you a long time to write it all down, but you never once lost inspiration—you just had to step away to give your wrist a break from all the writing. That gesture alone was proof enough of your true feelings for Minho. Therefore, saying you didn’t like him was mean of you. You did love him, in your own way, in a way that made you fear the future, fear losing him. “I… No,” you admit, swallowing your pride for once. “I’m sorry, I’m just angry. I did mean those things.”

Minho’s expression softens and he moves his hands away from the wall. “I know you did. One of them was ‘I love that you know all my secrets and still love me despite them’, and I know that one’s about Chris. You told me everything. So, I know more than you remember.”

You ignore the whole Chris thing—it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway—and go for something you really want to know, something that surprises you, as many things about him during this trip. “You still remember them?”

“I have them,” Minho admits without skipping a beat, his face stone cold. For some reason, your heart sinks a bit at this admission because it’s been years since you two have been romantic with each other, but you’ve meant every single one of the things you wrote to him. 

You feel breathless all of a sudden, like something’s knocked the breath out of you, like something’s making it impossible for you to speak. With a gulp, you lower your voice, and ask, “Why do you have them?” 

You’re sure you’re annoying him with all the questions, especially since he’s drunk and upset and you’ve just been very mean to him, but Minho still indulges you, as always. “Sadly, it’s still the most thoughtful gift someone’s given me. It made me think you actually loved me.” 

When he says that, you feel traitor tears pricking your eyes out of the blue. There’s nothing sad about what your ex said, except that it could mean he now thinks you didn’t. But, you can’t confess your love for him retroactively, even if he deserves to know how much he’s changed you. You can’t talk about it now when you’re so confused about it all. So, you don't tell Minho about your realizations about you, him, your relationship, Chris and Sunyoung, or any of it. You're too fucked up to think about it now, alcohol clouding your judgment.

Instead, you fall back into the old habit of contradicting him, not letting him win, saying just about anything to prove that Minho doesn't know you better than you know yourself, which has always scared you.

He knew you too well even back then, always a step ahead, always sensing what you needed, always willing to be kind and supportive even when you didn't deserve it. Coincidentally, Minho also used to love you more than you loved yourself and has shown more understanding to you than you have ever granted yourself. But, that’s in the past, and you can’t go down that road again.

“Anyway, you’re not right about Chris agreeing with you on this one,” you say, sighing at the end of it, hoping you’ve avoided the whole topic of love. You’re not ready for it yet.

Minho doesn’t look mad about it at all. Instead, he smirks. “Pretty, why do you think Chris hates me?”

“He… Actually, he told me he used to dislike you because he thought the two of us were perfect together,” you tell him, getting close to the subject you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Yes, and that’s what he told me too.”

“When did you guys talk?” You’re not sure if Minho means way back then or sometime during the trip.

“Do you seriously think I’d not talk with the guy you admitted to being in love with and who was clearly into you? You thought I’d just stand idly by and be in a relationship with you to keep you from being with him? I’m not that much of an asshole.” Minho scoffs. “Plus, you’ve told me you know about it.”

“Oh, so then,” you say as relief washes over you. “Did you tell him I liked him?”

Chris didn’t mention that, but maybe he was being a gentleman and trying to save you from embarrassment.

Minho laughs at the idea, shaking his head as his eyes glare at you, big and pretty. “Please, give me some credit. No, I didn’t. I told him I think he’s into you and that I want to know why he’s not making a move. And I told him what I told you earlier, that you’re both fake around each other, pretend to like the stuff the other likes, haven’t had a fucking fight during your entire friendship, and seemed to be idealizing the other person. He could do no wrong in your eyes, you couldn’t in his. Even when you were clearly in the wrong, he’d take your side. Our thing may not have been the healthiest, okay, but I didn’t make you believe you’re right about every single thing. I didn’t say yes just to make you feel better. That’s lying to each other. It’s fake.”

“Stop it,” you ask of Minho as you look to the side, unable to face him. He gazes at you in a way that irks you for some reason, that makes you want to fight with him, keep talking until you shut him up. Sometimes, you just don’t want Minho to be right. And you don’t want to hear how good you two had it, how you two worked well together—it hurts. “You can’t say things like these and expect me not to get angry.”

“Get angry all you want, pretty.” Minho grins like it’s all a joke. “Differences in opinions are healthy and normal. What’s not normal would be me agreeing with your plan and telling you it's a good idea even though I think it’s not. Now that I’m here and I saw the two of them and the two of you, I am telling you, you will get hurt,” he warns you, breathing out loudly, his breath fanning your face. “You’re chasing a guy who doesn’t really exist. The perfect Chris who is always soft and quiet and at your beck and call doesn't exist. He didn’t, even back then. Had you dated him, you would have found out.”

Is that true for him too? Is Minho telling you the guy you think he is doesn’t exist? He said it yesterday in a few words, told you you’re getting carried away. Is that something you do? If Minho is right, it is, and it’s led you to some pretty stupid decisions. 

“You’re wrong. I know Chris. Me not dating him doesn’t mean I don’t know what he’s like.” You’re saying things to spite him, not thinking straight, not taking the time to think about what he is telling you. If Minho is right about everything, you’ve messed your entire life up. 

Besides, you’re upset because it seems like everything is slipping out of your hands. The thing with Chris was never meant to be. If the thing with Minho was, it clearly no longer means anything to him because he’s out there trying to fuck the first person who offers right under your nose, the day after you two fucked, the day after he told you not to get your hopes up. You’re hurt, that’s all there is to it.

“I was perfect before I wasn’t, right?” Minho continues barking the words at you, his eyes turning into slits as he glares at you. “You loved me. As soon as we started disagreeing on things, you started romanticizing him again and hating me. Do you think Chris and you wouldn’t disagree on anything if you were in a relationship? Things don’t work that way, and if you don’t know it at this age, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Get off your high horse, okay?” You sound angry now because he struck a chord. It annoys you that Minho has more experience than you, that he sees things you don’t, that he can read situations better than you and tell you the truth even though it hurts. Besides, his theory of you not loving him anymore because of a fight is stupid—it may have been true in the past, but you’re still standing here fighting with him now, and you still feel the same way. “I am not idealizing the man. I just clicked more with him than I ever have with anyone else, and I didn't want him to marry someone else without knowing there’s a chance.”

“A chance for what? Dating?” Minho shakes his head, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You told him you liked him years ago, right? And he never made a move. He could have been dating you all this time. He could have called, texted, confessed. He didn’t do it for a reason, and the reason is he found someone who’s right for him. If you stopped being afraid of being single and letting go, you’d see that. This thing with Chris is fucking fantasy land at this point.”

Your eyes well up with tears as you listen to Minho tearing down your house of cards. Other people would have just blown some air and watched it crash, they would have gently pointed out that you’re failing to see some things. Not Minho, though. He stomped all over it, scoffing while doing it. He also figured out something you didn’t want to admit to yourself—you’ve been single for so long, yet you fear it. 

You don’t want to go your entire life without feeling the things you’ve felt—and to some extent still feel—for Minho. What a sad life that would be, no matter how many fun things you do, how much fun you manage to have with other people. You want to feel. 

At this point, you’re not sure if you want to be with Chris at all. You’ve come to the realization when you two talked the other day, and the earlier conversation just solidified your opinion. But, Minho doesn’t know that. That’s the one thing about you he hasn’t figured out just yet—your leverage. 

So, you spit the words at him, “Minho, no offense, but you don’t know us as well as you think you do. If you’re trying to imply that Chris wasn’t interested enough, thanks, but he’s told me he cared about me for years. You don’t know anything about that. You can’t know if she is the one for him.”

“And you know? You always sound like you fell out of an angsty novel. You want to be in love with this guy because you can’t have him.”

“Please, what do you know about novels or feelings?” you mumble the words at him with a huff. A part of you knows you are only holding onto this specific part of his argument because you don’t want to acknowledge the other. It is petty and wrong, but Minho’s words upset you.

Your ex nods as if he’s admitting defeat, but the glimmer in his eyes tells you he’s far from it. “I read all the ones you recommended. And all of them were about some unrequited love and other bullshit people feed themselves to make it through. Isn’t that right? You want what you can’t have, and you change what you want all the time. When one thing doesn’t work, you’re onto the next one, just trying to hold onto something from the past.”

Is that what he thinks you’re doing here? Maybe you are, but not with Chris. All the things Minho is saying hurt because it feels like he’s talking about you two, too, about everything that’s happened with you. You’re romanticizing him, or that’s how he’s making it seem. Maybe that’s not his point at all, but that’s how it comes off to you—personal, intimate, hurtful. It sounds like Minho thinks you’ve only slept with him because you don’t want to let go of the past and be single, like he’s telling you you’re jumping from Chris to him because you don’t want to be alone.

“I…” Once again, it’s just proof of this guy knowing you well, even though it’s been years since you’ve been close, not counting this hellish trip. These things hurt you, they make you feel sad. How did you manage to let him go if he always knew you this well? Why didn’t you notice this? Why did you not make a move any of those times you two ran into each other at parties? Why did you always think it’s a done deal because you’ve disappointed him back then?

“You love the idea of being with Chris more than you actually like him as a person,” Minho concludes. “You wouldn’t fuck me otherwise.”

You bite into your lip to stop yourself from being rude. It’s a way to defend yourself, a defense mechanism, a way to stop him from hurting you with his words further. He’s right about this too—you wouldn’t fuck Minho if you really believed you should be with Chris, or if you loved him romantically. For this same reason, you can’t really imagine sleeping with anyone else. “You don’t know that.”

Minho gives you a look that tells you you’re being a fool. “The dude’s a dog person. He has three dogs and wants to have three kids and is going to start working on that after the wedding. You? Cat person, you like dogs but don’t want to have them, ever. You’re iffy on kids if that hasn’t miraculously changed.”

He’s right about everything as always. You look to the side, taking his words in. Minho takes that as a sign he should continue, so he does. “Then, he’s a romantic. Chris is a good guy, sure. He showers his fiancée with love and affection, but in a way you’d absolutely hate.”

“Maybe I wouldn't, not with him.” Your argument is weak, and you know it. You’d absolutely hate grand gestures. 

You hate being the center of attention, and being put on the spot with something cheesy would just make you want to scream. Your idea of romance is someone showing you they care in subtler ways, like going along with an idea even if it’s ridiculous, hugging you when you cry, making you laugh when you need it… Like Minho has been doing.

“Hm... You wouldn’t hate it if he joined the band on stage to sing you a love song?” Minho leans in with a cocked-up eyebrow, alluding to the show Chris had put on for Sunyoung earlier, right after dancing with you. You left to get some fresh air at that point, too busy worrying about everything he’s told you about Minho to cringe at the fact that he was singing for her. That’s when you lost track of time and stayed out alone with your thoughts.

Minho continues, “Please. You’d run out of that place with your cheeks burning, you’d be that embarrassed. And his proposal? Paying the theater to air his proposal video before the movie? Getting down on one knee in front of a full theater? You would have died right then and there and not because of love, but because of embarrassment. All these grand gestures of his are something you’d dislike. And he’d have to give them up for you or you’d have to do them for him.”

“And that’s called compromise.” You’re not even sure what you’re fighting for here, but you’re not giving up. What does Minho want you to tell him, that he’s right? That you do all of these things? You’d be admitting to changing your mind because you don’t want to be single, and that’s not what you’re doing.

“On every single thing? You’re gonna compromise on stuff like religion, where your kid’s going to go to school, what you’ll teach the kid that you, by the way, don’t even want? Face it, you don’t work well with him,” Minho says in a tone that suddenly softens. “The two of us work better than that.”

Your heart leaps at his use of present tense, making you wonder what if. You’ve been thinking about too many what-ifs lately, and none of them have been right for you. “We may have, okay, but we… You said I’m— Jumping to conclusions,” you say, voice quivering at the memory of you asking your ex about you two and him turning you down easily. “It’s been years since then. Maybe we’d work even worse now.”

“Fair enough,” Minho agrees with a nod. “It’s also been years since you’ve last spoken to Chris, too, so remember that before you try to turn his life around and ruin his wedding.”

“And what if it would make his life better?” you counter, wanting to wipe the smug smirk off his face. What if Minho’s life would be better if you two tried to make things work, even if you’ve fucked them up before? Maybe you could bring something good to his life this time around.

“This is a wedding, pretty.” With that, Minho cups your face with both hands, making your breath hitch in your throat. You don’t care about the wedding and Chris getting married to someone else—all you are thinking about is your ex and his hands on you, his breath on your face. It would be easy to kiss him, so easy. But, he’s drunk and angry, and you don’t want to take advantage of it. “A wedding. You know Chris. He’s not the type of guy who’d come this far if he weren’t sure. Do you think he’d be marrying this woman if he doubted she was the one, that you were? I know him superficially, but if he’s anything like the guy you told me about, he’d never do that.”

He’s got a point, but you know Chris is not what you want or need, so you completely change the topic, hoping Minho is too drunk to remember any of this tomorrow. He looks like it. “I’m sorry, Minho, all of this sounds a lot like you’re still blaming Chris for us failing and me for having feelings for him back then when that’s not what really happened. If you’re trying to hurt me, you’re doing a good job, but I can see right through it.”

“Why would I be trying to hurt you? I just don’t want you to fuck this friendship up for good. If you make a move on him, do you think he’ll let you stay at the wedding? Do you think you’ll be friends after?” He pauses, and the silence just makes you feel even worse. He’s right—you didn’t really think of this option back when you were thinking about going through with this mess. “You’ll have to kiss this friendship goodbye unless a miracle happens and Chris magically realizes that the past three years of his life with this woman have been a lie and he’s wanted you all along, the girl who showed up here with a boyfriend who she claims to love but also treats like absolute shit while throwing herself at the groom every chance she gets. Do you think Chris will fall for that? It’s immoral.”

And that’s how he really feels about you—an immoral person. A girl he used to love who broke his heart and used him, in his opinion. So, Minho uses any chance he can to fuck you because that’s the only thing he enjoys with you. That, and making you feel like an inexperienced idiot who can’t see things for what they are. Well, he doesn’t even want his reward anymore, so there’s that.

“Maybe you do feel that way, but Chris doesn’t. You two are nothing alike, and you don’t know him. What you know are the things I told you, which were literally all the best. Besides, if this is so immoral, why are you here?” You love spiting him, and seeing Minho wince at your words makes you feel like you’ve won this stupid little drunk fight. 

But, he quickly recovers with a snicker. “You know what? I want you to ruin Chris’s wedding and your friendship. Isn’t that what he did to us?”

“He has ne—” you try to counter, to tell him he’s wrong, to defend Chris, but Minho cuts you off with a loud grunt that makes you shut up.

“Oh, stop! Don’t even try to make him seem like the good guy. Every fight you and I had led to you running to your best friend who was supposed to comfort you but instead always tried to turn you against me. Every. Fucking. Time,” Minho stresses every word, anger heard in every single one. He clearly hid his feelings well back then. You knew he disliked Chris, but right now, it seems like Minho despised your friend. “Even when I was right and when you were the one who started it, good old Christopher found a way to make you think we’re not good for each other and that I’m terrible. It worked in the end, right?”

“He isn’t that type of guy. We were just… We had feelings for each other, but we couldn’t confess.” You’re not even sure why you’re even defending the idea anymore. Maybe you’re just too proud to tell Minho he was right and that you don’t want Chris, that this whole thing is stupid, and that you should have listened to him that night at the bar.

But, if you had done that, you wouldn’t have slept with him, wouldn’t have come to the island with Minho, wouldn’t have had fun with him or slept with him one more time… You also wouldn’t be taking each word of his to heart and feeling absolutely terrible right about now. You wouldn’t be aware of what you’d lost back then.

“Well, confess now,” he challenges you, and it makes you realize he doesn’t really care about you the way you thought he does. Your breakthrough about you and Minho was just smoke on his end, a little fun when he’s drunk and in the mood to fuck, an easy thing. This is how he really feels about you, and he’s not afraid to show it. “I really want you to.”

“You’re saying that, but I know you don’t. It seems like you’d want nothing more than Chris to marry her, and me to be single and miserable and wonder what if because it seems like that’s all you’ve been doing.”

It is a low blow, and you know it, but he has hit your weak spot and pushed you over the edge. If anyone knows how to push all the right buttons to get you angry, it is Lee Minho.

“Oh, you want to go there?” Minho leans in and snarls at you, nostrils widening as he huffs out. “Well, you’re fucking wrong. I really want you to confess and I want Chris to call the wedding off and ride off into the sunset with you. And you know what? You’d be happy for a while until you’d realize what I’ve known all along—that you two don’t love each other romantically. All these feelings of yours? You care about each other as friends and you were attracted to each other, but that’s it.”

“You don’t know that, Minho,” you spit the words at him. Do you not know yourself at all? Why does every angry word of his cut through your chest? It feels like what he is saying can be applied to you two, and in that case, it’s just not true. Why do you care so much about Minho’s opinion of you? Why are you just now realizing he’s right about absolutely everything? Hasn’t he always been? That’s what scared you off in the first place. 

But he’s not right about this, not about the two of you. About Chris, yes. But Minho? You loved the guy desperately, and the feelings are still there. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be on the verge of tears just because of a stupid little drunk fight that doesn’t mean a thing. You wouldn’t be hurt because he tried sleeping with someone else, you wouldn’t be upset over him telling you he doesn’t want to be with you. 

“I do. The guy was obsessed with you back then, infatuated with you. He always stared at you, had his eyes on you. That’s not love,” he concludes, his hand suddenly holding yours. You both seem angry with each other, but there’s nothing angry about the way he holds you, hand warm against yours. There’s nothing angry about the way you let him touch you instead of pulling your hand away. 

Minho lowers his voice and continues, “He doesn’t know what it’s like to be with you, to make you happy, to keep you satisfied, and treat you well. He’s a nice guy, sure, but you don’t want to be loved the way he loves his fiancée. You just don’t. After a while, you’d come to that conclusion yourself.”

“Maybe… Maybe you don’t know me that well.” You want Minho to admit that he doesn’t know you and that he doesn’t give a fuck about you—that is what this whole thing is. You want Minho to cut you off too. You’d like nothing more than for him to tell you to fuck off, to tell you he hates you, just so you can realize that your theory on you two is as false as the one on you and Chris. You want him to show you that you’re wrong and that you haven’t fucked up the best thing you’ve ever had.

“I do know you well. Every conversation we’ve had this week proved that, and you’ve said it yourself. Besides, remember the guy before me? Remember what’s-his-name? Weren’t they two amazing guys? They both treated you right and were really romantic, you never argued with them. And what happened? You blew them off.” He pauses for a second, giving you a sympathetic smile. Minho knows everything about you, no matter how much you try to hide it, and that’s what hurts you. Have you really been this blind for that many years? Why did you fuck it up?

“I…” You’re at a loss for words, so you stutter and look around, overwhelmed with feelings. How did you get here? You feel cornered, and not physically, even if you are. You don’t mind being trapped between his body and the wall. Mentally, you really have nowhere to go other than facing everything you’ve done wrong, which is a lot.

“Face it, you need to be challenged. You can’t stand men who just agree with you, men who let you be in control, men who let you do whatever you want and just nod their pretty little heads because they don’t want to upset you. And that’s fucking Chris for you. I don’t know how you still don’t get it.”

You do get bored of fake happiness easily. It isn’t exactly fake, but it lacks excitement. The second things settle in and you feel loved and calm, you get the urge to run away and never look back. Love scares you. Feeling like your life is going to be one flat line until the moment you die is a fear of yours, and the second you feel it with someone, you run away. Minho is right about that, and you told him about this yourself when you dated, warning him about the possibility of you running away if things get serious.

Still, that didn’t happen with Minho. Even when you two were officially a thing and everyone knew about it, the commitment didn’t make you want to break things off. It was always exciting, which is why it lasted as long as it did until you one day decided that maybe Minho wasn’t what you needed after all because he was too good for you, too real, too scary with his understanding of feelings. He was handsome, treated you well, but the bickering always made you feel like you’d forever argue, like he’d always know better. You didn’t want to see yourself with him in ten years, arguing over every single thing. Yes, he was perfect otherwise, but would it have been worth it?

But then again, you can’t see yourself with someone who’ll just agree with everything you say and never challenge you, either. Are you really that much of a lost cause? You don’t want one or the other, and you doubt there is some middle ground when it comes to this.

You need both the commitment and excitement, and there’s only one guy you’ve ever had that with. Right now, he’s glaring at you like you’re the worst person alive, and you’ve told him terrible things after admitting you had feelings for him yesterday, and it’s all a big mess you’ve created. 

“Yeah, maybe I don’t get it,” you say with a sigh. “Maybe I’m an idiot who holds on to feelings and wants to be happy. So fucking what? You’re giving me this lecture, but didn’t you fuck me twice? Didn’t you just try to fuck Sunyoung’s mom? Maybe you need to think about how your actions are affecting others, too.”

“Don’t even go there,” Minho hisses the words at you, nostrils flaring again as he shakes his head and takes a step back, clearly upset. “You,” he points a finger at you but quickly moves his hand away, “you— Don’t.”

“Why? Can’t we talk about everything?” You sound pissed off, but you’re not. Well, maybe you are, but mostly, you’re hurt and you don’t want to be blamed for everything that went wrong. “Or is you fucking up off limits?”

“Nothing is off limits,” Minho says with a shake of his head. “I didn’t fuck her. She had my dick in her mouth and it couldn’t get hard because all I kept thinking about is how it’s wrong and I shouldn’t be doing it because I’m in this fake relationship with you and it could mess up your plan and we were just together yesterday and things felt good and I thou—” He stops himself and shakes his head, seeming completely defeated. 

“I shouldn’t have slept with you.” When Minho says that, you can swear his eyes water, which is why he looks to the side and swallows loudly. “That’s on me. But I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.”

The scene with Seoyoon must have been dreadful, but you don’t even want to go there. He had every right to do whatever he wanted with her, even if he couldn’t because of you. You’re not taking it as a compliment—Minho felt bad about it not because he has feelings for you, but because of the stupid plan you don’t even care about. Doesn’t he see that? How come, if he knows you so well? 

So, you challenge your ex again, wanting to hear him say that you don’t mean a thing to him anymore. “Pointing out your flaws is wrong but doing the same with mine is a fun activity? Combine that and sex, and it’s all you care about.”

Minho scoffs and kicks his head back, exhaling loudly. “Sex? Really? What did I do that was so wrong?”

You gulp. He has every right to fuck whoever he wants, especially someone who is single and clearly into him, like Seoyoon. He didn’t do anything wrong or immoral—that was all you. You can’t tell him you mind it, you can’t make him feel bad for trying to move on with his life. It would be unfair and selfish, and you can almost hear Han Jisung screaming your ear off about it, so you go with a quick, “Nothing.”

“Exactly,” Minho snickers like you’re being ridiculous, “I did nothing. I fucked you because you asked for it and because I wanted to do it. I love fucking you. Weren’t you saying the same thing or do you just mean it when I’m balls deep in you?”

You feel like an idiot when he puts it like that because both of you were in on it, and you were the one who initiated yesterday, who practically threw yourself at your ex and told him you wanted him. You have no business blaming him for sleeping with you. The only reason you’ve said that is the fact you don’t want to lose him, and sleeping with Minho has made you think you won’t, which is all just a big lie. You’ve never had him in the first place.

You want to say something, but your voice quickly dies down in your throat, “I—” You feel your eyes welling up with tears, feel their sting and weight there, seconds away from breaking down and letting it take over you.

“I’m sorry for saying it like that,” he whispers, taking a step towards you again, probably because he sees you’re about to start crying. “But you’re the one who walked out on me both times after sex without a word, who reminded me of your plan right after just so I know where I stand.”

“Minho, it’s—” You start confessing to him, confessing the things you told yourself you wouldn’t, not until you are sure, not until you know he wants to hear it. But, as if he senses that, Minho stops you. 

“Don’t. After we fuck, I don’t want to talk about the guy you’re trying to be with. I don’t want to go on a fucking walk with you two and be the third wheel after an afternoon like that.” His voice trembles and his lips purse into a straight line, a long sigh leaving him.

You did ask him to come out with you and Chris, but only because Chris asked you first, and you wanted Minho there. “So, no, you can’t fucking blame me for sleeping with you. I can separate sex from feelings and can fuck you without wanting more. We both wanted it, and you’re the one who acted selfishly. You want to love Chris and fuck me, and that’s fine, I can separate the two. Maybe I was selfish too, but I— I fucking hated his meddling back then and I don’t think you’d be happy with him. That doesn't come from a selfish place.”

It’s all pretty hard to hear, but the worst part for you personally is the part about Minho fucking you without feeling anything for you. You replay all the times he used that nickname with you, how softly he’s kissed you, how closely he held you, and you feel disgusted. Did Minho really do all of that without feeling a single thing? He called you his over and over again yesterday, talked about how he wanted to fuck you all the time, wanted to feel you… Suddenly, you realize all of that is sexual. He can say those things to anyone he sleeps with—why wouldn’t he? Minho never said a thing about real feelings to you. Not once did he say he cared about you that way, as more than a friend, not once did he promise you more than sex, not once has he even alluded to wanting to be with you—you made the whole thing up.

The realization makes you feel worse than earlier, and it has nothing to do with Chris. It’s about you and this idea of yours that Minho is someone you should keep in your life, someone you still have feelings for, someone who still excites you after all this time. The perfect combination, the person worth the effort, the person who makes it all seem so easy and carefree. But, the guy standing in front of you telling you that you’re just sex to him after all of that can’t be worth anything.

“I can’t take you seriously, sorry,” you tell him with a sigh, closing your eyes for a second. If Minho wants honesty from you, he’ll get it. He can only blame himself if some anger gets in there, too. “I could if you didn’t speak with so much hate for the guy. You barely know him.  It seems like you want me to fuck this whole thing up because you want both me and Chris to pay for our breakup. He’s not what caused it, trust me.”

“He is,” Minho instantly counters, tilting his head to the side. “If he hadn’t meddled, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“He didn’t meddle, Minho.”

He gets visibly annoyed at your denial, scoffing, letting out a loud huff, and shaking his head. “You and I argued and almost broke up many times. You’d always tell me you need time to think about it, I’d give you a day or two before I called you and asked you to meet me. We’d always work it out once we cooled off. The arguments were stupid, anyway. But every time, you went to this guy, told him about our problems, and let him get into your head. Don’t forget Chris promised me he wouldn’t meddle.” Minho pauses, glaring at you, showing how he really feels about Chris. He’s right—Chris told him he wouldn’t do that, so Minho has every right to be pissed. “And that last time was just the time I didn’t call you after you said you needed time. I gave up because I realized you’d always go back to him, and Chris would always keep talking badly about me, trying to get you to break up with me for real, trying to separate us.”

Was he right? Minho wasn’t a bad guy, not back then, and he’s not one right now. He wasn’t spiteful or mean, even when you argued. But, Chris did always try to warn you about him, telling you Minho would break your heart, that you deserved someone different. He also reminded you of how popular your boyfriend was, how many women wanted him, how he had so much experience and you had basically none. Were you really that stupid back then? “I… Well, you gave up on it then. It had nothing to do with Chris.”

“Please, it had everything to do with him. The fight was so stupid, and you were at fault, but when we talked, you said you needed time to think and that even Chris says the whole thing was pointless and we are wasting each other’s time. That’s when I knew I couldn’t win.” Minho sounds so disappointed you almost feel sorry for him, but that’s hard when he’s also hurt you without even realizing it. “This guy would always be there to say something bad about me. He was waiting for his chance and kept pushing you to break up with me in a way that made him seem nice. He wasn’t. He got in between the two of us, and only because you’d never give up on his friendship. As long as the two of us dated, he was a danger.”

Minho’s words hurt. All of this makes you seem like a total fool, like a gullible idiot who got conned by the man she thought was her best friend. It makes you seem weak and desperate and really fucking mean to Minho. A part of you knows he’s right about certain things. Chris did always take your side when you’d argue with Minho, even when your boyfriend was clearly in the right. Backed by Chris’s faith in you being right, you’d keep pushing sometimes, but Minho would let you have it your way after he cooled off. He’d be the one to apologize even if you fucked up, and you’d apologize later on when things settled down. So, he is definitely right about that.

“I’m… tired of this. We always argue, Minho, and I really can’t do this right now,” you tell him as your eyes well up with tears. You’re hurt and exhausted—not because of Minho’s words, but the realizations they brought on. Was everything a lie? Did you fuck things up for everyone involved? Do you constantly think of men highly even though they don’t give a fuck about you? Minho has just admitted to that, yet here you are, caring about him. “I care about you a lot and I appreciate your opinions. Thanks for letting me know how you feel, but I don’t think you have my best interest at heart right now. I’m sorry. Can you please go to your room?”

“I—” Minho takes a step towards you, reaching out to touch you, but you pull away. You don’t want his touch now. If he hugs you, you’ll break down and you really don’t want him to witness that. You’ve cried in front of Minho more than you’ve cried in front of anyone else, even Chris, but you don’t want him to know you’re hurt now, for some reason. He’s smart, he might connect the dots even if he’s drunk and angry. “I am sorry.”

“I know, it’s fine,” you say, brushing it all off. “I promise.”

You can’t hate the man even if you try. No matter what Minho tells you, you’ll forgive him eventually. Despite everything, he’s still the guy you were crazy about back then, the guy you told everything to. 

“It’s not fine,” your ex counters and reaches out, opening his hand and turning his palm upwards as if he’s asking you to take it. “Pretty…”

You don’t know why but you do it and prove yourself right—Minho’s touch is warm and comforting, as always. In a second, he uses your hand to pull you into his frame, hands finding purchase around your shoulders. His hug feels just as nice as you remember. 

“I care about you, so I always have your best interest in mind,” he reminds you, voice so much softer than earlier, not a hint of anger in it. There he goes again, pulling you in, making you think your Minho is still this guy who just wants to fuck you. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want you to be with Chris, but I would never stand in your way. If you both confess and live happily ever after, I’ll be happy for you. Trust me. I just don’t think you’d be happy.”

Instead of saying something, you fight the tears but fail. Some of them end up on Minho's chest, having soaked through his shirt, and he pulls you into his frame tighter, humming gently. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry, pretty.”

You want him to stay here with you, you want him to never have to leave, but you know it’s not real, none of it is. Minho has just spelled it out for you—he cares about you as a friend, he regrets fucking you, and he can separate sex from feelings. That’s what hurts you the most. “Can you please leave?” you ask with a sniffle, not wanting him to witness a complete breakdown.

“I— Sure,” Minho says, instantly letting go of you, even though your head stays on his chest. “I’m sorry, I got upset over, over you saying you didn’t care about me and not being able to fuck someone else and you standing up for Chris when he—” Minho sighs before scoffing. “I know you don’t want to talk about this. I shouldn’t have said what I said. You deserve to be happy, pretty.”

With that, Minho kisses the top of your head a time or two before pulling away and leaving your room, just like you asked him to.

“Do you think Minho and I work well together?” you ask as soon as the person on the other side picks up, hoping they will respond and not go off on you.

It’s the middle of the night where you are, and for the past couple of hours, you’ve been crying on the balcony, raiding your minibar, and wondering what the fuck you are doing with your life.

“You woke me up at 6 am to ask this?” Jisung wonders but doesn’t wait for an answer. “Must be important then. I… I used to think it. I just thought he deserves someone who’ll be as nice to him as he was to you if I’m honest.”

“But other than that?” you ask, hiccuping right after. You shouldn’t have mixed your liquors, clearly. “Personality-wise? Feelings-wise?”

“If I ignore the way you acted whenever you two argued and how much that hurt him… As much as it pains me to say this, I think you worked well together. You’re similar enough to work but different enough not to get bored of each other,” Minho’s best friend says, indulging this crazy whim of yours.

“I think so too,” you admit for the first time out loud. It’s funny how you’re saying it to the person that’s completely disconnected from the whole thing. “I’m really the worst person ever. Is that something you wanted to hear? I am, truly. Minho was always so out of my league that it was almost painful. And he’s such a good guy, too. Well… No, he is. I have it all coming.”

“Clearly, you’re drunk,” Jisung sighs, “and you don’t mean any of this. Maybe you should get some water, take a shower, and go to bed. Wait, why did you call me about this?”

“Because you’re the only person who I can trust to be honest when it comes to him,” you explain, hoping your reasoning makes sense. “Chris would tell me what I want to hear, Minho would say something that wouldn’t hurt me, and you… You’re not like that.”

“Hm… I mean, you’re not wrong. Is Minho with you?”

“No, he’s in his room, and he hates me,” you confess, feeling a pang in your chest as you say the words, remembering how sad you’ve made him tonight. Disappointed, let down, sad, miserable—all because of you. “He probably doesn’t, but he should, I think.”

“What did you do?” Jisung asks, suddenly sounding a lot colder than earlier.

“I… I am just an idiot. You’re right. I am mean to him. I didn’t think about his feelings at all. If I had some lingering feelings for Chris, Minho could have some for me. But he doesn’t,” you admit, feeling even worse than before. “You were right, Jisung. I am selfish. He even went into the pool with me.”

Jisung cries out in surprise, forgetting that he’s supposed to act cold towards you. “What? I haven’t seen him in a pool in literal years.”

“He shouldn’t be doing that for me,” you say and start crying. Jisung waits for you to calm down, but the tears seem to be never-ending. “I… We slept together, before this trip. And yesterday.”

“Wha—” He interrupts himself by groaning loudly, giving off his disappointment. “I knew it! What a fucking mess. So what now?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, sniffling, knowing you sound really dumb and drunk and annoying, which is exactly how you feel. “I fucked everything up. Minho deserves the absolute best. You were right about that too, he treated me perfectly. But you were wrong about one thing—when we were together, I really didn’t care about Chris or anyone else. It was only Minho for me. I loved him a lot. I know I didn’t show it at all, clearly, but I did love him and the breakup hurt me. I still compare people to him, for fuck’s sake!” you exclaim angrily, realizing that it’s the absolute truth—doesn’t every guy get compared to the best boyfriend you’ve ever had? “Don’t ever tell him I told you that.”

“I’ll think about it, it sounds like good blackmail material,” Jisung jokes. “Listen, you’re not a bad person. I took it too far. Now’s not the time to go down this rabbit hole of self-loathing, especially since you’re drunk and attending a wedding of a guy you used to like. So get some rest. Stop thinking about it now, and talk to him sober, okay? You know Minho gets things. He’s not angry with you, I’m sure.”

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

The morning of the party starts well for you because you end up going for a walk with Chris and a couple of friends from back in the day right after breakfast. After having sex and taking a nap in Minho’s room yesterday afternoon, you snuck out and spent the evening in your hotel room, taking a long bath, ordering room service, and just thinking. 

You thought about you and Chris and how things were wildly different now, you and Minho and how things were weirdly the same despite everything. Where this idea of you and Chris together failed, the one of you and Minho thrived. But even that is impossible. The thinking doesn’t do you any good, so you’re grateful Chris has invited you to go somewhere and do something just so you don’t have to be alone and think anymore.

As a good fake girlfriend should, you instantly text Minho when you get the invite. It’s what’s expected of you. Plus, you wouldn’t mind seeing him. Despite what happened between you two yesterday, you know things won’t be awkward—they never are with Minho. You left without a word yesterday because he was sleeping so sweetly that it felt wrong to wake him up just to say bye. Still, you know he won’t mind and you know everything will be normal when you see him.

You: hey, minho! want to take a walk with me and chris and some other people?

While you get ready, you keep glancing at your phone, wondering if Minho is even awake. You don’t know what he did last night—maybe the night took him somewhere else, maybe he went downstairs to the bar and drank and had fun. 

Minho: thanks for the invite, i don’t feel like walking

You find your ex’s excuse funny since he’s gone out for a walk every morning and evening since you got here, preferring to enjoy nature than sit around his room or hang around the pool. 

But, you think he just wants some privacy or time away from a crazy ex that keeps sleeping with him, so you leave him to it. After all, he’s been stuck here with you and a bunch of people he doesn’t really like—Minho has the right to be alone with his thoughts, no matter how much you want to pick them.

The walk is enjoyable because no one talks about you or Minho or your past or anything in between, so you can focus on the conversation and forget about everything. Chris and you are the last ones standing, the other guys having given up an hour in, wanting to go start drinking by the pool. You don’t want to get too drunk today, and neither does Chris, so you two keep walking alone. 

“Nervous?” you ask, wondering how you would feel if you were in his shoes, a day away from getting married. Would it be nerve-racking? Would you worry about everything going well? Or would you just be happy you’re getting married to someone you love?

“About the party?” Chris suggests, completely missing the point of the question. The party is not the event of the week—the wedding is. “Not really. Just can’t get too drunk and embarrass myself, but I think I’ll manage that.”

With a chuckle, you explain, “I meant, about the wedding.” You know Chris would never get too drunk and do something stupid, it’s just not his style. He’s a good guy, much like Minho. 

“The wedding?” he repeats after you, and then his eyes widen as if he understands what you mean. “Oh no, I’m not nervous at all. I can’t wait actually.”

“That’s wonderful,” you tell him, meaning it. It is, even if you hate hearing it. If Chris is going to get married, he should do it with someone who doesn’t make him feel nervous, who doesn’t leave any doubt in his mind. Right?

“Oh, there’s Minho,” Chris points out, looking somewhere straight ahead.

You spot your ex who said he didn’t feel like walking doing just that on his own. When Minho notices you, he gives you a quick wave, turns around, and leaves before you can wave back or ask him to join you. You wonder if he thinks you are confessing to Chris and wants to give you some privacy. Why else would he lie to you? Still, something about watching him rush to get away from you stings deep inside.

“Aaaand he’s gone,” Chris announces dramatically, laughing. “The guy really can’t stand me. Can’t pretend to like me to save his life.”

“What happened between the two of you?” you ask, wondering why Chris thinks Minho hates him. From what you know, Minho never said a word to him or treated him badly. The things he told you were private, and you’d never share them with Chris.

“Well, nothing happened,” Chris stresses the word, which just makes you feel like there’s more to the story than the two have let on. “We talked, guy to guy.”

A talk? Why is this the first time you’re hearing about it? You just hope they didn’t talk on the island but years ago. But, in that case, why did neither of them think to inform you? It’s definitely information you would want to hear, especially back then when you were getting over your crush on Chris and falling in love with Minho. “And? Did Minho say something he shouldn't have?” 

You’re on your toes as you wait for Chris to respond, wondering if he already knows you were crazy about him back then. What did Minho tell him?

“No, he, uh…” Surprisingly, Chris sighs deeply, and you can tell he’s nervous. He smacks his lips before continuing, “I've never told you this because it makes me look bad and I'm embarrassed about it, but I'm getting married this week, so I guess I can tell you about it now.”

You motion for him to continue, wondering what kind of a secret you’re about to hear. “I'm all ears.”

“Minho invited me out for drinks while you two were dating. It was maybe three months into your relationship. We met at a bar, and he ordered us shots,” Chris explains, starting to walk a bit faster as if he’s getting riled up. All of this is news to you, so you try to imagine the scene while he speaks—the two men you had feelings for meeting up on their own because of you. “I said I didn't want to drink, but he just turned around, looked at me, and said something like Oh, you'll need it. I thought I was fucked. I figured he'd down the shot and deck me in the face.”

Chris laughs at that, and you follow, even though your mind is racing. You never knew the two met and talked privately, so you are worried about everything that could have happened between them without you knowing all these years. “Why would he do that?”

“Well he, uh, I guess he figured out I had feelings for you. I mean I know he did because he told me,” Chris explains, not looking at you.

“He did?” You fear Minho ratted you out back then, told your friend you had feelings for him, and threatened him to stay away. Would he do that? 

Your mind goes back to Minho when you dated, instantly remembering how sweetly he always treated you, how he always made you the center of his attention. Would he do something like that behind your back? Did you not know him at all?

“I expected him to hate me, to tell me to fuck off, and all that, but he... He was more than fair. Minho, uh...” Chris scratches the back of his head and looks at you with a grin that reveals his dimple. “He told me he loves you and wants you to be happy. And he knew I liked you. So, he was giving me a chance to act on it. You two have a bond, you're great friends, and if you like her and there's a chance she might like you back, go for it. I couldn't believe it.”

“He said that?” You can’t hide your surprise at this new information because it’s practically unbelievable. 

Three months into your relationship, you were starting to really fall for Minho. In fact, you were so into him you told him about Chris and how you used to like him and how you hated yourself for it. But that was it. You didn’t tell your boyfriend you wanted to be with Chris or that you were sad you couldn’t. You didn’t even want Chris anymore at the time—Minho was all you could think about.

“Yeah. I was shocked, honestly. He said it was a fair chance and that he'd back away if you told me you wanted to be with me. Minho wouldn't get mad at me or try to retaliate or anything,” Chris explains, and you can’t even imagine this conversation and Minho saying these things. Why would he hand that chance over to someone he knew you used to have a crush on, especially if he cared about you too? He did, you know that. You both cared for each other.

Suddenly, you need to know more. “I had no idea. What happened then?”

“Well, clearly, I didn't take him up on his offer...” Chris snickers, obviously feeling silly. “He told me to call you right then and confess and that he'd walk away if you reciprocated. But, if I chose not to, he asked me not to play against him.”

“Against him?” You can only repeat his words, trying to make sense of the whole thing. What was Minho’s end goal?

“Not try to break you two up, work from the shadows without ever telling you I liked you,” he explains, waving his hands around with a grimace on his face. “I mean, he didn't want me to ruin things for you if I didn't have the balls to say anything to you.”

Well, that was smart of Minho, you think. He gave Chris a fair chance and asked him to do the same. “And you never did,” you point out, thinking about everything that could have been. Chris just had to call you back then.

“No. That's when I realized Minho really loved you like you deserved. If the roles were reversed, I never would have offered that, ever.” Chris stops walking and looks at you poignantly, giving you a slow nod as if that is meant to explain the whole thing. Strangely, it kind of does. “And I also wouldn't have been able to stand you being friends with him. I’d be so jealous if I were him. But he let you be my friend and never said a word to you, right?

“Never, he really didn't,” you reassure him. Why didn't he, though? He knew all this, he knew it all, and yet he let you be Chris’s friend, he let Chris comfort you after every argument.

“That's because he really did love you,” Chris answers your question without even hearing it. “And that's the type of thing you should have with someone.”

Nothing eventful happens during the walk because you’re too busy thinking about the conversation between Minho and Chris back then and all the possibilities. Had Chris called you back then, what would you have said? Three months into the relationship, you were trying not to fall in love with Minho, too scared of him getting tired of you, a guy like him who could have anyone. Yet, you were already too far gone, Chris slowly falling into the background as Minho took over, and you realized there was no turning back—you were going to be with Minho for as long as you could. 

Had your friend called you that night and confessed, you probably would have turned him down. You were in a happy relationship with a guy you liked. Months after that, you knew you loved Minho. So, your decision would have been right, no matter what happened later, no matter what’s happening now. Even if Chris acted on his feelings when given the chance, it wouldn’t have worked because your heart wasn’t in it by then. Therefore, it wasn’t meant to be

When you go back to the hotel, you make a beeline for Minho’s room, hoping to find him there, but he’s out. You try to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail, leaving you to wonder where he is. The one place you’re sure he is not at is the pool, so you go downstairs and explore the lobby and the garden, but he just isn’t there. You wonder if he’s made a friend there or if he’s somewhere on his own, away from the terrible ex that’s making him do degrading things just to get something out of it for herself.

So, you go to the spa, deciding to have some quiet time and think without running into an old friend, a former lover, or the guy you wanted to be your lover, maybe. The spa does a lot to calm your nerves, but as soon as you get out and back into the real world, your mind takes you to the conversation, and you look for Minho again, this time successfully.

He lets you into his room, and you walk inside, wondering what you even want to say. You’ve had so much on your mind all day, ever since the conversation with Chris, and now that you two are here together, you’re not sure where to start. Your ex looks at you questioningly with a slight smirk on his face.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks you, rubbing his temples with two fingers as if his head hurts.

“You never told me about your little talk with Chris back then at some bar,” you cut straight to the chase, deciding not to drag it out.

“Why would I?” Minho shrugs, closing the door behind you and walking straight to the bed, sitting down on it with a grunt. “We said we wouldn't, that was the deal. I guess good old Chris really can't keep a fucking promise.”

“I…” You gulp, not knowing what exactly you want to say. Scolding him for not telling you about it seems pointless right now. Besides, he did a nice thing behind your back, not something terrible. “You didn't have to do that for me, you know. When I was with you, I didn't try to be with him. I just wanted to be with you.”

It’s an admission of your feelings for him from back in the day which might be a bit too much considering the current situation, but you know Minho is already aware you were crazy about him. Wasn’t it obvious? Everyone knew that. You still have some feelings left for him solely because they were too strong back then. So, you’re not sure why you feel strange admitting this, why your breath hitches in your throat while you wait for Minho to respond, why you’re nervous about saying the words.

“Pretty,” Minho scoffs with a shake of his head, “I had way too many mimosas with Sunyoung and her mom earlier. If you get all sentimental on me, I might actually throw up.” With that, he grimaces as if he is going to be sick.

“How lovely,” you grunt at him, rolling your eyes. Of course, Minho has to ruin the moment. “I mean it, though. It was sweet. You were capable of having real feelings back then, wow. What happened to you in the meantime?”

It’s a joke, and a bad one, which is why Minho doesn’t laugh. Instead, he opts for sarcasm. “Oh, I don’t know… Got dumped?”

You decide not to address his comment and go for the next best thing. “Why are you drunk at 2 pm on a party night?”

“I was asked a lot of questions about you and this terrible relationship of ours, so I played my part and drank a lot,” Minho jokes, throwing himself on the bed, which makes his linen shirt ride up his stomach, revealing a strip of smooth skin right above the hem of his underwear. Just yesterday, your mouth was on that patch of skin, making its way down to his co— “Want people to think we’re miserable, right? Besides, I don’t think I’m going to the party.”

“What?” You walk over to the bed, nudging him with your knee, and the warmth of his skin transfers to yours, making you want to touch him some more. The thought of facing all the wedding-goers without him makes you sick to your stomach. “You can’t not go.”

“It will be easier for you to play the role of a disappointed girlfriend. Plus, I’m really not in the mood to sit around on my own and watch you drool over Chris.” Your ex scoffs, taking a deep breath as he covers his eyes, the alcohol probably making his head hurt. This time, you do understand his disdain for your former best friend. What you don’t understand is why he has a problem with you drooling over anyone—he’s just told you this thing of yours is just sex. “I’d rather stay here, jerk off, and go to bed.”

“You can do all of that back at home,” you mumble, smacking his thigh. “I think we’ll have fun tonight. I won’t leave you alone for a long time, I promise. We’ll have a blast together.”

By the time you and Minho show up at the party, slightly tipsy from the drinks you downed together by the bar, everyone is drunk. That’s what you wanted—show up late when people are tipsy and avoid any weird looks and questions. 

Since you’re drunk, you drag your ex to the dancefloor with you and dance with him in circles, pulling your best and most embarrassing moves out and singing along to the music.

“We’re definitely the worst people on this dance floor,” Minho shouts at you over the music, even though he leans in close to your ear. 

“Worst how?” you ask, enjoying the feeling of his arms around your waist, helping you not stumble and look wasted already. “Morally?”

Minho laughs, shaking his head. “I meant, we look like we’ve had a few. But maybe morally too…” He lets his voice trail off, and his eyes shift to the side. 

“You’re not wrong,” you admit, lowering your voice, which means Minho has to lean in and practically press his ear to your mouth to hear you, which just allows you to breathe in the strong scent of his cologne. “What we’re doing is not exactly right.”

You feel a weird pang in your chest when you remember Jisung’s words about you using Minho. It is not right, that’s true, especially if he is still holding onto some feelings. But, he told you he wasn’t just last night, that you are getting carried away.

Are you? Seeing your ex get vulnerable by the pool made you think of him in a different light—it brought you back to the old days when all you two had was each other. It brought back some old feelings, mainly the ones about wanting to protect him. Minho was always the sarcastic, confident guy who never got hurt by anything. Seeing him vulnerable for the first time only made you want to protect him from everything, like he did you.

That’s why you acted the way you did yesterday and made a move on Minho. All of that is difficult to explain and probably sounds completely nuts, so you don’t even try.

“Yeah, you’re… Trying to break up your friend’s marriage right when it’s about to begin, and I— Yeah,” Minho inhales sharply, deciding to go back to singing along to the song instead of finishing his thought. He makes faces at you while he sings and, even if you think he looks like he’s having fun, you need to know more.

You don’t want this particular conversation to stop—you want him to say what is on his mind. “And you what?”

“I’m trying to stop you, I guess,” your ex says with a shrug, his expression suddenly turning gloomy. He’s moving to the rhythm effortlessly, and you just follow, even if the conversation is somewhat serious.

“That’s the morally correct thing here,” you point out, patting his chest. “It’s what a normal person would do.”

“For the right reasons, yes,” Minho tells you, a weird glimmer in his eyes as he chews on his bottom lip. He looks concerned, and that’s not like him. What are his reasons, then? What’s wrong with wanting to stop you from ruining a wedding? “I… I’d like to sit down for a while, get some water, and clear my mind. Do you want to come with me?”

Just then, you see Sunyoung running toward you with an expression of genuine happiness. Another pang shoots through your chest, so you take a deep breath and force out a grin. “You go, I’ll… Hang out with my new friend,” you say as you look in Sunyoung’s direction. “I’ll be with you soon, okay?”

You don’t even notice when and how Minho leaves because you’re too busy hugging Sunyoung, and she’s dragging you to the middle of the dancefloor. It’s only then that you spot Chris and how gorgeous he looks with his hair swept back, in a dark button-up.

“I see you and Minho are looking close tonight,” Sunyoung notes after a couple of songs that you two spend dancing like you’re best friends. You can’t even hate her—she’s a good person and seems to have a lot of love for Chris. Isn’t that what’s best for him? “And yesterday, by the pool. Are things better?”

You almost forgot that Minho has been confirming your story of you two not doing so well earlier today after you two were so close yesterday in front of everyone. People must think you two are a match made in hell—one afternoon, you’re kissing by the pool and running up to your hotel room. The next, he’s drinking with the bride and her mom and moaning about your relationship. 

It’s a part of the plan, but it all seems so stupid now, a lot more complicated than you thought it would be, but you have no choice but to play along. You keep making a bigger mess all the time—you tell people you aren’t sure about your relationship but then spend half the day in his arms by the pool.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, wondering where you two actually stand. After this trip, will you go back to being strangers? That would be… terrible.  You opt for the truth. “We’re just… Friends. Friends who used to love each other a lot. Maybe I didn't even realize how much before we, uh, reconnected.”

“Well, give it time!” She hugs you unexpectedly, her soft palm patting your shoulder. “It takes a while to rebuild something like that.”

“It… It does,” you respond, unsure of what else to say. It takes a while to rebuild something only if both people want to do that in the first place. “But it takes a lot of other things too… The feelings have to be there.”

Sunyoung smiles at you so warmly that you want to hug her, as crazy as that sounds. “Well, you two… Chris told me you had insane chemistry back in the day. I haven’t really seen it until yesterday at the pool,” she says, lowering her voice so no one else can hear. “It seemed like you two felt like you were the only people there. Not in a bad way, just an only-have-eyes-for-each-other sort of thing, which is so obvious and cute. You were like two teenagers in love, which is the goal, isn’t it?”

You’re not sure how to respond to that because you want it to be true. It probably is, mainly the chemistry part. There’s crazy chemistry between you and your ex, and no one can deny that. It’s there when you’re around other people and gets even better when you’re alone. Even during this trip, you’ve found it hard to take your eyes off of him, and not Sunyoung’s fiancé, who you’re here to steal from her, or whatever your stupid plan was.

“I… Thanks, Sunyoung,” you whisper back, your eyes wandering to Chris, who is walking over to the two of you and pulling you both into his arms. 

“And who’s drunk and hugging on the dance floor?” He laughs, pulling Sunyoung in for a wet kiss that you have to witness up close. If Minho were next to you, he’d probably gag at the sounds, and the thought amuses you.

“I love love,” Sunyoung tells him, patting your shoulder. “I just want her and Minho to work out, you know? They’re both really nice.”

“I know, baby,” Chris coos, kissing her again. “Your mom’s looking for you.”

Sunyoung excuses herself and walks off to find her mom, leaving you and Chris to dance. He grins at you, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’ve decided about Minho, but be aware that Sunyoung’s mom wouldn’t mind getting her hands on him.”

You laugh heartily at the idea of Sunyoung’s mom, who you’ve met a couple of times during the trip, and Minho together. It would never happen, of course, but the fact that Chris warns you about it is comical. The woman is gorgeous, but she’s Chris’s future mother-in-law. Does Minho really need another connection to the guy?

“Who doesn’t want a piece of Minho?” you add after you’re done laughing. You’re convinced most people would like a chance with him, especially once they get to know him. What’s there not to like? “I’m aware he’s a wanted guy.”

“Not nervous about losing him?” Chris asks, and it feels like a challenge. Is he implying Minho would cheat on you? You two are not together, but your friend doesn’t know that. 

“No,” you’re quick to respond again, not wanting him to win whatever it is that you’re doing. Besides, you and Minho have a weird type of relationship, one that a guy like Chris wouldn’t understand. You barely understand it yourself, but it seems to work. “Not nervous about the wedding?”

“Not at all,” Chris tells you with a smile before he spins you around. You believe him—he looks completely happy with his decision, certain in it.

“Shouldn’t there be a bit of nervousness?”

“Not if you’re sure of what you’re doing, I guess,” he says, sneaking a glance towards his fiancée over your shoulder, and your heart sinks. 

“She is the love of your life, huh?” It’s a question, but it’s more of a conclusion in your book. They work well together, in ways you two simply never could. You barely have anything to talk about, other than the past, and that’s not where your life is headed.

“She is,” Chris looks right into your eyes as he says, “I didn’t think something like this existed until I let myself enjoy it.”

“It wasn’t love at first sight?”

“At first sight?” Your friend scoffs like the whole notion is funny. “I thought you didn’t believe in that crap. There’s no perfection, nothing happens instantly… At least that’s how I see it.”

“Sometimes, you can connect with someone when you first notice them, right? Isn’t that what we did?” You’re getting ballsy with the questions, but you feel like everything’s slipping away from you. 

You’ve fucked up everything you could, starting with your relationship with Minho. There were layers to that thing you weren’t even aware of until this trip, but it’s all gone now and all because of this ‘what if’ with Chris, who you’re about to lose too. In fact, you never even had him. You did have Minho back then, but you completely ruined the relationship and whatever feelings he had for you.

“It is, you’re right. But it never progressed from that stage, did it?” Chris concludes, and you know he makes a good point. It’s what Minho told you, it’s what Chris told you, it’s what you should be telling yourself. It could, but it didn’t. If it did, it wouldn’t have worked.

Isn’t that what you should be thinking about Minho, too? It would have worked out if it were meant to be. It could be perfect, but it isn’t, and Minho seems to understand that. You decide to be bold again, the alcohol making you get spiteful. “It could have.”

“It could have,” he agrees in his usual calm manner, giving you a warm smile. “But it didn’t, is my point.” 

“I understand…” You sigh, looking around as you two dance, wondering how you even got here in the first place. “I wish I could fall for someone that way again.”

“Didn’t you fall for Minho that same way?” Chris reminds you. That is true, you did fall for him back then, but it’s different now. Chris thinks you’re together, but you’re not.

“Ah, we’re… Not in a good place,” you lie, unable to look him in the eye when talking about this fake relationship. The thing is, half of this isn’t fake—your feelings somehow got hurt yesterday. All the thinking you did last night and today made you realize that. You’re hurt that Minho just sees sex in you. He’s always been more than that to you.

“Well, I kind of figured it out when you said you don’t know why you’re with him,” Chris admits with a knowing look. “If you’re with a guy, I’m guessing you should know why. Is there really nothing that’s keeping you there? You used to love him a lot.”

You don’t really need to be reminded of your feelings for Minho. For some reason, they’ve been bubbling up to the surface lately, and not in the way you expected them to. During this trip, you’ve realized you want Minho in your life. As a friend, of course. In fact, you just want him there, you don’t care about the role he will play.

You like spending time with him, and his stupid little comments make you kind of happy. Plus, Minho gets you in a way most people never will. The idea of going back home and not talking to him as much as you have during this trip scares you, makes your stomach turn upside down, makes you want to cry. “I… I did, Chris, you know I did. He made me happy.”

“But he no longer does?” your friend suggests, not taking his eyes off of you, which makes you look at him too instead of avoiding his gaze like a coward.

Your mind instantly runs to that night at the bar, to all the fun you two had before going to Minho’s place. You danced like you were the only two people there, not caring who would see you and what they would think. You told him everything he wanted to know, responded to every question with the truth, and knew you were getting the same in return. 

Even yesterday, it was easy to talk to him about your feelings, to share them without having to worry about getting ridiculed. He always gets you, even if what you are saying makes no sense, if you are so confused you aren’t even sure what you want. Sometimes, it feels like he can listen to what you’re saying and discern your real thoughts from the bullshit, see right through it, and tell you how things really are, without embellishments or lies. 

You let Minho back into your life so easily because he still fits right in. He’s a good guy, and you don’t want people to think he has nothing to offer, even if you’re pretending you’re miserable in a relationship with him.

“He’s perfect, Chris,” you admit, meaning it. Minho is the perfect man. The fact that he’s here playing along to your crazy plan just proves it. No one else would do that for you. “I guess I just wasn’t sure if there’s someone else I should be with instead of him. And sometimes it’s easier to think that than admit that you fucked everything up and hurt someone you really cared about.”

The groom nods and lets out a loud sigh, squeezing your shoulder. “That’s something you should figure out before you make him fall for you even more,” Chris advises softly, gently nudging his head to your left. 

When you look over your shoulder to that spot, you see Minho sitting by the table, staring at you two, cheekbone resting on his knuckles, a pout on his lips. Since you catch him looking, he fakes a smile and looks the other way, but it doesn’t work on you. You know when his smile is forced. 

“Any other guy would be furious right now,” Chris points out, and he’s right about that. If you were dating someone and dancing with Chris this much, especially considering your past, the person would probably get fed up with you. But not Minho, never Minho. “You’re dancing with me, and the two of us have history. Nothing real ever happened, but there's history, especially with him. He knows.”

“Are you saying he’s not jealous?” That’s true, though. There’s never been any jealousy in Minho. That used to worry you. You thought it meant he didn’t care enough about you. Nowadays, you think no jealousy is healthy.

Just then, Seoyoon sits on your seat and places her hand on Minho’s shoulder, leaning in so she can whisper something to him. Chris has warned you about her and you can’t feel jealous about it—Minho is single, even if you two slept together just yesterday. Minho doesn’t owe you a single thing, let alone faithfulness. You can’t be selfish and get upset over it, you can’t let yourself feel hurt when you see him smirk and then chuckle at whatever it is she whispered to him while brushing her tits against his arm “by accident,” you’re sure. You can see right through it, though. 

“Yes,” Chris breathes the word with a slight nod, reminding you that you’re still talking to him about Minho being jealous. “But it’s not a bad thing. It means he trusts you. It’s how it is with me and Sunyoung. She can dance with any guy here, I’d still trust her. When it’s right, there’s no jealousy. Are you jealous of women around him?”

“Not really,” you admit, even though a part of you is. Seoyoon clearly wants him. She didn’t waste any time yesterday, and they drank together this morning, too. Why shouldn’t they? They’re both single adults looking for some fun. Plus, she thinks he’s in a miserable relationship with a complete bitch who’s been treating him poorly. “If he wanted to be with someone else, he could. I couldn’t really change his mind about it. It would be wrong of me to try.”

Maybe you and Chris don’t exactly agree on everything. Even when you were holding onto this idea of Chris and you, you would have felt jealous seeing Minho with someone else. Do you feel the same way now?

You look over Chris’s shoulder and see his future mother-in-law cup Minho’s chin and make him face her, you see her flirting, batting her eyelashes at him, making sure he gets a good look at her cleavage, making sure Minho knows he can have her. “If you don’t try, you’ll never know,” Chris tells you with a sigh. “And if you decide not to try, then it’s best to leave it alone.”

You know he’s probably talking about you two in the past—neither one of you tried to get with the other one, and that might have been for the best—but you’re not sure if that’s right in Minho’s case. Is it better to let it go? The chemistry?

You know his body well, you know him well, and imagining someone else having him, getting to feel him that way, getting him to moan the way you do irks you irrationally. The idea of him calling someone else pretty the way he does you bothers you, seemingly for no reason. Did he call Seoyoon pretty just now, is that what caused her to kick her head back and laugh, her hand landing somewhere on his thigh, her body leaning towards his? 

You know Minho is charming and sweet and that he can probably have a different girl every night if he wants to. But, you never thought about it until this whole thing started, until you slept with him again and realized other people could have him, even though you two… get each other? You aren’t sure if that is the feeling you’re experiencing.

What is even worse is that you feel jealous when you think about Minho trusting someone else enough to let the person lead him into water, clutching onto their hand as he did yours, holding onto you tight as water surrounds him. The idea of seeing him and Seoyoon or any other woman doing that makes you sick to your stomach.

Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. During this entire thing, you haven’t felt jealous of Sunyoung getting to hold Chris’s hand once. She gets to hold a lot more, of course, but none of that upsets you as much as the thought of someone else helping Minho get over his fear. 

Fuck. You’ve got it all wrong.

By the time you gather your thoughts, drink some water, get some fresh air, and return to the table, Minho isn’t there. Neither is Seoyoon, which stings. You’re not stupid—you know what people are here for, especially single ones, and the two have clearly gone somewhere together. Even though he’s been drinking, Minho can give her a great time, and you’re sure she’s having the best sex of her life right now, the sex you should be having.

The thought hurts for no apparent reason. You’re exes. He’s told you that you’re just sex to him and that you shouldn’t get carried away. You’re here to do something immoral, even if you’re not even doing it anymore. Minho is a moral guy. He wants nothing more than sex with you and has been honest about it. Granted, he probably feels the same way about Seoyoon, but she is not someone who loves him the way you do, the way you did.

Even though your night is ruined, you stay and dance with some of Chris’s friends you knew back in the day, try not to think about Minho and how you managed to fuck everything up during this trip—your self-esteem, your friendship with Minho, this stupid plan of yours. You’re going to return home from this trip completely hurt and alone, and Minho is probably not going to be your friend after this.

You’re sure Minho and Seoyoon are screwing each other’s brains out somewhere, but you suddenly see him back at the table drinking, looking like a complete mess. Minho is far past tipsy—he’s drunk. Glassy eyes give him away, and so does the cocky smirk he sports the second he sees you walking over. The first couple of buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, revealing a bit of his chest, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, a drink in hand. All of it points to him getting laid and then getting completely wasted.

“You look like you need a shower and some sleep,” you inform your ex as you sit down next to him. At this point, you’re tired too, and all you want to do is leave this party with him and maybe talk. Or not. Just being next to him is sometimes enough. “Wash the sex off of you.” 

You’re not sure why you went with that out of all the things you could have told him. You’re hurt over the whole thing, and not because of him, but because of your stupid actions. 

“And you’re taking your anger out on the wrong person,” Minho hisses back, which tells you he’s drunker than you thought. The last time you spoke, you two were more than fine. In fact, you were acting friendly.

“Oh,” you breathe the word, deciding not to indulge him. “I’m not angry. I just think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Maybe because you ignored me for the last three hours even though you promised you’d stay with me if I came here with you,” your ex points out.  

The glare he gives you makes you feel like your mistake is being thrown in your face, proving Jisung right once again. You are a selfish bitch. Has it really been three hours? You check your phone and see that Minho isn’t lying—you’ve left him alone for that long while you danced with Sunyoung and then Chris, leaving the party tent to have some water, think, get away from it all.

But then again, Minho did have some alone time with Seoyoon, which means he wasn’t as lonely as he’s pretending to be. For some reason, that irks you. You pause for a second to think. Can you really blame him after he’s been left here alone for hours, after he watched you dance and talk to Chris, after you promised you wouldn’t leave him alone?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize and pat his thigh as guilt washes over you. Despite what has happened between him and Seoyoon, you did make a promise earlier. You can’t really blame Minho for getting drunk and hooking up with someone when he was left to his own devices at a wedding party where you’re the only person he really knows. “You sound like you’re angry with me, not the other way around.”

“Don’t try to touch your way out of this,” Minho sneers at you and moves his knee away from your hand, jerking his hand in the process. That knocks his glass over, and the dark whiskey stains the white tablecloth instantly, the stain getting bigger with every passing second. “Fuck!”

You reach for the glass, but a bit too late—most of the liquid is soaking through the tablecloth, and all eyes seem to be on you two. Minho might have raised his voice a bit, but not at you. However, the people around don’t know that, and you two look like one of those couples that argue in public.

That is probably why Sunyoung appears right next to your table, looking at you two with a worried smile. “Hey, you two! Everything okay?”

“Perfect,” you lie through your teeth, hoping she’ll leave before Minho tells her anything. Maybe she doesn’t need to know he fucked her mom just now even though he’s supposed to be your boyfriend for the intents and purposes of this trip.

“Great!” As if Seunyoung can read your mind, she looks at your date, who looks like he’s over the whole thing, like he’d rather be anyone but here, and you know exactly why. “Are you okay, Minho?”

“He’s fine,” you say right when Minho tells her, “I'm not,” which makes for an embarrassing moment or two as Sunyoung’s eyes dart from your to his face.

“He’s just a bit drunk,” you explain with a slight nod as if you’re trying to tell her not to pay attention to him, which is exactly your goal. He seems way too tipsy and upset to be talking to Chris’s future wife. “A good night’s sleep, and he’ll be as good as new.”

“Leave it to my dear girlfriend to know best!” Minho says spitefully, throwing a mean look your way. Oh, you really pissed him off tonight, you can tell. But, it’s all your fault and you had it coming. “Doesn’t she always?”

You glance at Sunyoung and mouth an “I’m sorry” to her before looking at him again. “Maybe we should go upstairs, huh?”

“You don’t want to dance with Chris a bit more?” Minho suggests, his words shooting at you like daggers. 

Instead of getting suspicious or attacking you, Sunyoung just chuckles at his words. “You shouldn’t worry, remember?” She nods at your ex as he gets up, letting you know the two of them have a secret you know nothing about. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Get some rest!”

Minho laughs so loudly that the couple next to you looks at you both like you’re crazy, so you apologize. “I’m sorry, he’s had a bit too much to drink, please don’t mind him.”

“Yeah, I have!” Minho wraps his arm around you, chuckling, his fingers digging into the skin of your shoulder. He faces the couple with a grin. “My lovely girlfriend here is about to dump me, but we’re stuck on this island so she has to put up with me for another day or two. I also have to put up with a lot, but… Who cares, right?”

The couple looks at you two like you’re a mess, which you definitely are, and you can’t get yourself to say a thing. He does have to put up with a lot because of you and none of it is fair. Minho gets up and takes a deep breath. “If you’ll excuse me.”

With that, he leaves the table and the tent, making his way to the hotel. You excuse yourself too and run after him, too embarrassed to stay there and face the couple or Sunyoung. Plus, you really don’t want Minho to go anywhere on his own when he’s this drunk. 

Your ex is not exactly fast when wasted, so you easily catch up with him. You wait for the elevator together in complete silence, but you feel his eyes on you like daggers as he stands there with his hands crossed over his chest. You fucked things up and disappointed him and you deserve his anger. 

Just when you two step inside, Sunyoung’s mother catches up with you and joins you, which makes the ride even more awkward after what has happened between the two of them. After all, she must think you two are together unless Minho really made it seem like he’s suffering in this “relationship” when they drank together this morning. So, she thinks you two are unhappy together and she’s just fucked the guy you’re supposed to be dating.

“How come you two are leaving so early?” she asks, looking only at Minho, whose arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against the elevator wall. “The party’s just starting!”

“We…” You don’t know what to say. 

At this point, you’re kind of tired of lying and have a feeling everyone knows everything is fake. We are exes who fucked while on this crazy quest to get Chris to break your daughter’s heart and be with me doesn’t sound that good. That’s what you’re doing. You’re here to ruin a wedding and you managed to fuck things up with Minho, the only normal person you know. This lady also fucked the same guy you fucked twice this month and about a million times in the past, so things couldn’t get worse for you in this elevator.

“I had too much to drink, as you know,” Minho admits to her easily, shaking his head. What does that mean? “And she’s helping me go to my room. We also kind of argued in front of your daughter and… It’s a shitshow.”

“Oh, I see,” she grimaces and nods, which makes you wonder what is going on. “As long as you know what you want. It’s important to be honest, after all.”

You’re not sure what any of it means—it sounds like the two are speaking in code you don’t understand. Then, Minho moves to the side so he’s closer to you and wraps his arm around you. Even if it’s just for show, feeling him close makes you feel better instantly, like things are alright. 

“Baby,” he practically hums at you, even though Seoyoon is right there, “I drank with Mrs. Lee today and told her all about you and us and how we’re… Reconnecting but failing. How things just don’t seem to be working for us.” 

Oh, so he was playing along today and selling the story you made up to everyone here, for you. It’s just another reminder of how selfish you are. You’re too busy thinking about that to notice that this isn’t really a conversation you should be having with Seoyoon, who is a complete stranger to you, even if your ex had his dick in her minutes ago.

“Yes, I’ve heard all about it.” She smiles at you sympathetically, which is so annoying considering how hard she was coming onto him just earlier. Does she think you don’t know? “I’ve heard about how you two met back in the day and how happy you were. Minho said wonderful things about you and everything you’ve been through together. If there’s love and respect, anything is possible. And of course, being honest with each other.”

“Hm, I agree,” Minho tells her, nodding, his arm still around you. “Respect is really important though. Keeping your promises, not walking out on people, not treating them as pawns in your little games, thinking about others… All this relates to the respect you feel for the other person.”

His words are like daggers, and you want to cry but can’t make a scene. All of these things are things he clearly holds against you. The truth is, Minho has every right to be angry with you. You made a promise and broke it, you did use him as a pawn, and you aren’t really thinking about others, not even now. You’d tell him you were through with the plan if you were really thinking about what’s best for your ex. The elevator ride seems like the longest one in your life—there’s just no end to it. 

“Yes, honesty is key, Minho,” she glares at him before giving him a cocky smirk, and you suddenly realize she thinks he cheated on you. She thinks you don’t know and is trying to get him to admit it to you. Does Seoyoon really want to cause a scene here? Why?

“Yeah, honesty is vital, but I tell my girlfriend everything,” Minho quips with a smirk of his own, his arm still around you. “Babe, Seoyoon and I left the party together earlier.”

She gasps and you don’t even flinch. You’re not sure why she’s acting so shocked when she’s been hinting at it this entire ride. Seoyoon probably wanted to make Minho sweat and admit this to you later, so you can argue in private. 

Suddenly, the elevator stops on your floor, but none of you leave—you’re staring at Minho, he’s staring at you, and Seoyoon is probably staring at the guy she’s just fucked behind your back—or so she thinks. Not a classy thing for the mother of the bride to do, but who are you to talk about class? What you came here to do is the lowest of low. 

“But, nothing happened because my dick doesn’t work if I feel like I’m cheating,” he admits while looking straight into your eyes. So they tried and it didn’t happen. You know he’s telling the truth only because he said he felt like he was cheating, and not that he was cheating. This isn’t for show, this isn’t to save this fake relationship—he’s talking about you two for real. “Despite that, Seoyoon insisted I tell you since she thinks it’s fair. I think so too. Now, let’s go talk about it in private.”

You don’t say a word to the woman who, on the one hand, tried to do the right thing, but on the other hand, tried to make everything go up in flames for you and your fake boyfriend. You follow Minho out of the elevator without a word, trying to process what has just happened—between them, between you two.

Minho leads you to your hotel room in complete silence and you let him come inside. Clearly, he doesn’t want to go to his room and sleep without talking it out with you, and you don’t exactly want the night to end on such a sour note either. You’re just not sure where to start.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

When you thought about what the trip will be like, never once did it occur to you that you’d find yourself in the pool with Minho, surrounded by people, and see him not care about anyone or anything else. You didn’t think he’d go swimming, period, let alone look this relaxed doing it.

But then again, you two have been flirting for a while now, joking around and pretending other people exist, so him forgetting about his fear doesn’t surprise you at all. 

Out of the blue, some of Chris’s friends start swimming around you, spraying each other with water and trying to hold each other’s heads underwater. It’s a stupid, childish thing, and you can’t believe grown men are acting this way and getting everyone else around them wet.

Chris soon joins them, and it seems like they’re drunk because they’re spraying water everywhere and getting other people involved, laughing as they do. It could be fun, maybe, but it’s not fun when you worry about Minho and his fear of water.

Even poor Sunyoung gets her head underwater, but she emerges laughing and spraying her soon-to-be husband. “Screw you, guys!” she shouts, and you almost laugh at them being idiots, but then you remember this is Minho’s worst fear.

Judging by the small group’s moving pattern, they’ll soon reach your part of the pool and probably won’t even ask before deciding to have “fun” with the two of you.

“Minho, it’s time to get wet!” Chris jokingly shouts, still too far away to notice how Minho frantically grabs your hand underwater and intertwines his fingers with yours, holding onto you tight. 

“Don’t think so!” you shout back and stand right in front of Minho, wrapping your arms around his neck so you can jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. The very next second, you’re in his arms and he’s helping hold you up, the water doing most of the work.

Your ex is surprised by you climbing on top of him but can’t even express it out of fear—you can read it all on his face. It’s been years, but you still know how Minho feels just by looking at him. The fact that he’s doing this for you even though he’s scared just reminds you of the things Jisung told you, and you instantly feel like the worst person out there. This guy shouldn’t be out here in fear just to indulge your stupid little whim.

“It's fine,” you whisper at Minho, which makes him look at your lips and close his eyes for a second as if he's trying to agree with you without saying a word. “I promise.”

Your ex hums and opens his eyes, sighing loudly. His arms hold onto you tight, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he holds you up.

Chris shouts something at you in return, but you’re too busy looking into Minho’s eyes to even register it, and you don’t care about their childish game enough to turn around and face the groom. “Maybe later,” you say, raising your voice just a little bit. “We’re busy now.”

Minho doesn’t say a thing for a while, focused solely on your eyes, even though his gaze does fly over your shoulder here and there to check where the group is and whether anyone's coming over to try to pull you two below the surface.

“What are you doing?” Minho asks as soon as the three men move back to their side of the pool. “You’re supposed to be convincing the guy you’re miserable with me, not the opposite.”

You chuckle, throwing your head back, your limbs still wrapped around his body tightly. It’s a relief that he’s not angry or scared—after everything, he’s here worrying about your plan. “I kind of enjoy being carried around. Plus, this is a good workout for you.”

“You do know you’re a lot lighter in the water, right?” Minho reminds you and grimaces at you, but you laugh that off, too.

“I know. I’m saving you from people and letting you enjoy your pool time,” you whisper, leaning in. You feel your lips brush against his ear in the process, and your core clenches at the touch for some reason, even though the moment isn’t intimate. “You don’t have to carry me, though, that part is a joke.”

“No, it’s fine,” Minho tells you, grabbing your thighs to lift you a bit before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his frame. You’re now so close your noses are practically touching, and you haven’t been in a position like this since the last time you two kissed. “Fewer people will bother us if they think we’re a couple doing coupley things.”

“I’m sorry about this,” you tell him, ignoring the last part. You don’t want to think about all the things that come up in your mind when he says that. “I didn’t think they’re such kids.”

“Pretty, weren’t they always?” Minho squints his eyes and glares at you, knowing he has a point. “You’re always surprised when your man acts childish like he hasn’t been that way since you met him.”

“You… Actually have a point,” you admit with a shrug. “You’re right.”

“God, I love hearing you say that,” Minho says with a loud groan, similar to the ones he lets out when he’s coming—and if anyone knows what that sounds like, it’s you. Why you’re thinking about that, you have no idea.

“Let’s have another drink,” you suggest, hoping that will take your mind off of things you shouldn’t be thinking about while you’re in his arms.

When Minho agrees, you two wave a waiter over and soon get the drinks that you gulp down almost instantly. It’s because you need courage if you’re going to make the trip worth his while. Jisung has made a good job of getting inside your head and making you question your relationship with his friend.

Throughout the whole thing, you stay in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, drink in hand. Minho and you talk and giggle, tease each other constantly, and you enjoy every second of it. Being around him is so easy when you’re not putting up a fight or overthinking things, and today just reminds you of that. He carries you around while you drink, and everyone leaves you two be, which is how you prefer it.

“You should drink more often,” Minho suggests with a grin, downing the shot he ordered with the latest round of cocktails. It has to be the last one because you will pass out if you have any more drinks other than the one already in your hand.

“Why, because I’m on you when I do?” You down your drink and place the glass on the edge of the pool, arms once again free to wrap around his shoulders.

Your ex stops moving and looks at you for a second or two, inspecting your face thoroughly. Then, he smiles. “No, because you laugh loudly and smile all the time, and you’re even prettier then, pretty.”

“Aw, are you getting soft on me?” You fake pout and pinch his cheeks, to which he scoffs and puts his shot glass down by the edge of the pool.

“Trust me, there’s nothing soft about me right now,” he says teasingly and tongues his cheek, and you know exactly what Minho means. “I’m not saying it because of that, though, but because you need to be more confident.”

“I’m way more confident now than I was back then,” you point out, happy with your progress. You’re never going to be on Minho’s level of confidence, you’re sure of that, but you feel better about yourself than you did back in college, and that's something.

“The only reason you weren’t confident back then was that asshole,” Minho mumbles and glares at Chris, who is jumping in at the other side of the pool, far away from you in Minho’s arms.

“What do you mean?” You laugh at the very idea of Chris having anything to do with your low self-esteem back then. The truth is, you’d been single for a long time and you thought your value as a person was low because you couldn’t find a great person to date. Of course, when you grew a bit older—and wiser, you like to think—you realized that being single had nothing to do with someone not being good enough. Chris had nothing to do with your distorted sense of self.

“I mean… He made you think you weren’t good enough,” Minho says, sounding fully convinced in the truthfulness of his statement. “And you were even more than that.”

You have to disagree with him. “He didn’t say anything like that…”

Minho shakes his head and pulls you in closer, so close your chests are now touching. “Really? Chris didn’t constantly remind you that I fucked around before we got together, that I had a lot of experience you didn’t? He didn’t warn you about me, telling you to be careful because so many,” he rolls his eyes while he mutters, “women wanted me and I had never been in a relationship before, and I could easily fuck one of them when you weren't around?”

When he says these things, you get taken back to the past and realize Minho is right—Chris did say them, but he was just trying to warn you. He didn’t want you to get hurt, and that was your biggest fear. After all, you knew Minho was way out of your league. You looked okay, weren’t stupid, could be fun, but he was gorgeous, smart, funny, and had such charisma that people just flocked to him, even back then.

Before you two got together, Minho had never been in a real relationship, never wanted to settle down with someone, so it surprised you that he wanted you two to try it. You knew he fucked more girls than you could count and they were all probably more experienced than you, better than you. These things weighed over you all the time, but you couldn’t really blame Chris, even if he pointed them out often. “It’s my fault for believing these things.”

“If Jisung was dating a girl he thought was too good for him, I’d tell him no one was too good for him because he’s a great fucking guy,” Minho tells you with a smile, and you know he means it. “I wouldn’t tell him she slept around before him and that she’ll probably do that again because so many hot guys want her. I wouldn't try to make him doubt himself so he could break things off with her. You wouldn't say that to a friend either. You should have listened to me instead.”

You should have. 

Being with Minho—physically—was always great for your self-esteem. Despite all the teasing and playfulness, you always got more compliments than you needed, and Minho made sure you knew he found you pretty and attractive and funny and interesting. That’s why he called you pretty in the first place—the first time he called you that, you were so moved you kissed him and said it was the sweetest thing anyone had told you. After that, it became like a new name to you, at least in his book.

“You’re right about that,” you agree with him, even if you think Chris didn’t have bad intentions. “But I’m over most of those problems now, anyway.”

“I can see,” he looks down at the way you’re wrapped around him, “and you should be. If you weren’t pretending you were with me, trust me, all these guys would try something. You’re too good for them, though.”

You scoff at that, even if you think everything he is saying is sweet and caused by the alcohol rushing through his system, plus the adrenaline of being in the water. “Really? Is it because I’m such a moral person?”

It’s Minho’s turn to laugh heartily. “You’re not in it to hurt other people, and that’s what’s important.”

Are you? You think about it for a second, but the last thing you want is to see Sunyoung or Chris hurt. You wanted to hate her, but it’s hard when she’s such a sweet, nice person. You’ve met her last night, even danced with her, and she gushed all about her love for Chris. You couldn’t hate her if you tried, that much was clear. Besides, your plan was fucked from the beginning.

“I guess I’m softer than I thought,” you admit, not wanting to talk about Chris when you’re so confused about Minho to even think about the other dude. So, you change the topic back to something lighter and say, “Unlike you.”

“I thought you couldn't feel it,” Minho says and throws you towards the surface, enough for your crotch to move away from his erection and get pressed into his stomach instead. “My bad.”

“You thought I wouldn’t feel a dick that hard between my legs?” You look at him questioningly before smirking. “How drunk are you, Minho?”

“Not as drunk as the girl that’s secretly been enjoying having my dick against her pussy for the last ten minutes,” he quips and downs the rest of his cocktail, even if he’s just had a shot. You're always surprised by how he can say the crudest things with the straightest face in public. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m in your arms, it’s right there, things happen…” You shrug and lean backward, letting your back rest on the water while Minho holds you by the waist. “I didn’t mind it.”

“Don’t do this to me if you don’t want to get fucked,” he hisses out a warning and chuckles. 

That’s when you realize the position is extremely sexual for two people who have had sex a million times before—your legs around him, your crotch against his, his hands on your waist, holding you pressed into him while your upper body floats. You hate sex in water, but if all these people weren’t around, you’re sure Minho would make even that feel good.

“Maybe I do,” you say with a chuckle and open your eyes again to look up at Minho. It’s up to him now. “So what?”

With one quick move of his hands, Minho gets you to sit up and straighten your back, his arms once again around you, lips next to yours. “What are you doing, pretty?”

“Offering you sex, if you’re interested,” you respond and lean in to press your lips against his. You're at the pool and most of the wedding guests are there too, but you can't get yourself to care. For all they know—including Chris—you two are a couple. You kiss and fuck and love each other, so this shouldn’t be surprising.

Minho kisses you back, not letting himself get carried away before he pulls away and inspects your face from up close. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been hard for a long time and it’s making me want to fuck you right here,” you admit, leaning in and biting on his lower lip. You'll never be immune to Minho, no matter how hard you try. Besides, why should you try? You want him, he's clearly horny—what's stopping you? “We’re both single, and you fuck so well, so…”

Instead of saying something to your offer, your ex kisses you, this time using his tongue. The more it swirls inside of your mouth, the wetter you get, and the more you enjoy having him between your legs, long and hard, reminding you of what’s to come if Minho is willing. You don't care about your surroundings and who can see you—all you're focused on is reciprocating the kiss and enjoying every second of it.

Minho grunts into your mouth and pushes his hips into yours, and you feel like you could come any second even if he hasn’t even touched you yet. Fucking Minho and his perfect tongue and taste and smell and the way he touches you and how attractive his moans are and how well you know he fuc—

“Get a room!” one of the guys screams jokingly and sprays you two with water, but neither one of you moves.

Minho breaks the kiss and pulls away just enough for your lips to part, but you feel his breath on your face and see him looking at you with lust written all over his face. The guy is so pretty you can’t stop staring, and he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Shall we?” you feel confident enough to suggest, even though he could turn you down easily.

“What?” Minho asks, even though you’re sure he knows what you mean. He's looking at you like he knows, and his fingers are once again holding your thighs from below, even if they are practically resting on your ass.

Still, you indulge him and say it out loud. “Get a room.”

“Is that my reward?” your ex suggests, the grin wiped off his face for some reason, jaw clenching.

You shake your head at the suggestion. “No. I just want us to fuck. No rewards, no games.”

“In that case, your room or mine?”

Ten minutes later, still wet from the pool, you're in Minho's room, pushed against the door while he kisses you, his hand roughly groping your tit before moving down to do the same with your ass. You're wearing a bikini, but his hands manage to get under it with ease and touch whatever part he wants.

“Fuck, you're hard,” you mumble with both hands wrapped around his cock, which is leaking precum already. You swipe your thumb over the tip, making Minho hiss and bite into your shoulder, and it turns you on that he's so quick to show how much he likes your touch.

“See what you do to me?” Minho grunts into your skin, and the words make you get wetter instantly. “See how fucking hard you get me?”

You fucking love vocal men, and he's the one to blame for that. You enjoy hearing how horny you get someone and you bask in the sounds you get them to make all thanks to Minho and his filthy mouth which is currently kissing its way down your body. 

He pushes your swimsuit to the side to get your tit out. Once Minho does that, his tongue starts swirling around it, and all you can do is pump your hands faster and moan for him. “Suck harder,” you tell him, squeezing the tip of his swollen cock. “Want your mouth on me.”

Minho chuckles and does as asked, sucking your nipple into his mouth, biting the flesh around it. When he lets go of it with a pop, you think you'll come right then and there because of the sight of his wet swollen lips right next to your nipple. “Pretty, let's go get a condom,” he suggests, and you nod, even if you want to keep touching him for hours.

You follow him to the bed, sad that you two have to part while he looks for a condom in his drawer. But, while Minho is standing next to the bed and shuffling through the drawer, you drop down to your knees and pull his swim trunks down his thighs, taking his cock into your mouth, which stops him from moving.

He grunts and kicks his head back, hands grabbing your head and pushing it towards him, making you take all of him. When you do, you swallow on purpose, and he moans. “You really want me to blow before I get to fuck you,” he mutters happily and continues searching for the condom. “Not gonna happen because I want to be in you so bad.”

You keep sucking but are pulled up on your feet and thrown on the bed a second later. When you get on all fours, Minho pulls your swimming suit down your ass, exposing your soaking cunt to him. “So fucking horny today,” he mumbles, sticking a finger inside of you, both of you hissing when it just slides in. It gets drenched on the first try, and you can almost hear it move. “Aw, did Chris turn you on that much?”

“Stop talking about him,” you tell the man who now has two fingers up your pussy and is scissoring you open with them. “He didn't have his dick between my legs for half of the day, did he?”

Minho chuckles and puts the condom on. While he does that, he leans in and starts licking you up and down, careful to suck and slurp and make as much noise as possible to get you to moan and melt. “Minho, please,” is all you need to say to get him to pull away and put his dick in you.

You moan when you feel the stretch, the familiar burn of the dick you know every inch of, the slight stinging and overwhelming feeling of relief when something hard finally touches your walls. “Minho!”

“Finally,” he grunts to himself and starts moving, hips smacking into yours from the get-go. “So good—”

Minho keeps fucking you roughly, both of you unable to speak. There's not much you can tell him when he's giving you exactly what you want—good sex, the type that leaves you breathless. Each thrust fills you up with pleasure, makes your toes curl, makes you moan and grunt. Even though he seems to be more put together than you, Minho is grunting just as much. “So tight,” he tells you in between thrusts. “Tight little cunt… Wet just for me.”

“Yes, Minho… Fuck… Just for you.”

You've missed fucking him this way, missed having his hands on you like this, grabbing any body part they can reach while his hips push into yours from behind roughly. Minho still knows just how much you can take without it getting painful.

You're tipsy and horny, which means you are more than fine with rough sex, and he's delivering—every move is sharp and quick, cock buried inside of you deeply, thighs smacking into yours.

Being emotional all day made you drink, and that made you want to be close to Minho, which is why you're now fully enjoying the experience. “Harder, Minho, please!”

“Harder?” He giggles, sounding out of breath. “You really need a good fuck, huh?”

“Just had one recently,” you manage to mumble, still not over the sex you two had before coming here, the time that made you think of him more.

Minho laughs happily and smacks your ass. “Sure you can take it harder?” he checks again, hands now on your waist.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can't think of anything else.” A simple plea, one that he's heard from you many times before and always managed to deliver. “I don't want to think… Just want you.”

It's true. Right now, you don't care about Chris or the wedding or Jisung or anyone else—all you want is to get these frustrations out through sex with Minho. You wish he was on top of you so you could look at him, kiss him, so he could see what he's doing to you.

“Then get comfortable and hold on tight,” your ex instructs you gently and waits for you to grip the sheets and spread your legs to find a stable position, one that won't have you lurching forward with every thrust.

When you do, his cock makes you see stars. It's kind of funny how Minho's cock isn't anything special, technically speaking. There are bigger, longer, thicker dicks out there, yet his always manages to rub your g-spot, always makes your eyes water because it feels so deep, always pries your walls open, no matter how much they clench around it.

“Fuck yes, just like that,” he hums to himself, probably enjoying the view on top of the feeling of being in you. 

He pushes into you hard with a loud smack which almost throws you forward and onto the bed. But, Minho's strong hands are holding you just below the waist, fingers digging into the skin, so he pulls you back onto his cock instantly. It's just back and forth, his dick rubbing your walls quickly, beautifully.

“Mhm, baby.” A smack of his hips makes you moan. “Such a good dick.” Smack. Your toes curl, pussy dripping for him. “Want to have it all the time.” Smack, smack, smack.

“Yeah? Want to let me fuck whenever?” Minho's voice is so low you just know he's seconds away from grunting and coming if he lets himself.

You hum again, trying to clench around him, but it's hard to do that when he's pistoning into you. Smack, smack, smack, the sound so delicious you want your ex to keep going forever.

“Yeah, just you—” Smack, smack. “It's your pussy anyway.” 

Smack, smack, smack until you can't say a thing anymore because you're too busy crying out from pleasure, all because you've told him something he loves hearing. Minho has never been jealous or possessive—you've found out to what extent just recently—but when you two slept together or fooled around, he loved hearing you say that you were his, that your body was his, that he could have it whenever he felt like it. If the timing was right, hearing you were his could make him blow unexpectedly.

You know these little things about him just like he does about you. So, you're not surprised in the slightest that he knows exactly how to move to make you scream. You're not surprised by your constant moaning, by the fact your mouth is open and you're drooling over his bed, by the fact you're dripping wet. The whole hotel can probably hear you getting fucked stupid, but you don't care about any of that.

“Take dick so well,” you hear him mutter, voice laced with pleasure, “my sweet little pussy… Mine,” smack, “mine,” smack, “mine! Right?”

“Yes! Yours, baby—”

“Only I get to make a mess out of it, hm?”

Everything he says goes straight to your head, makes you moan louder, makes you relax your muscles and enjoy the throbbing cock inside of you. You feel wet and swollen but so satisfied at the same time, even if you haven't come yet—it's fast approaching, your abs clenching and releasing.

“Yes, Minho, only you,” you agree, nodding even though your head is pressed into the mattress and he can't even see it. “Please, don't stop, baby— Please, just—fuck!—keep going!”

Minho knows you well so he recognizes all the signs of you getting fucked out of your mind, of you getting lost in pleasure, on the brink of coming.

“You're gonna come like this, pretty?” Minho sounds surprised because you find it easier to come with clitoral stimulation. Today, it doesn't seem necessary.

“Yes, yes, just move—”

He hums happily, clearly happy about the fact you’re enjoying this more than he expected you to. Minho recovers quickly and keeps muttering at you, hissing every now and then,“Let me feel you come, come on. Show me how much you wanted this dick…”

It's stupid that those are the words that get you going, but that's what happens. You come around Minho’s cock, letting your shoulders collapse on the mattress, fingers gnawing at the sheets while he keeps pistoning into you. 

“Yeah, baby, just like that, squeeze it hard,” he tells you through hard thrusts and gritted teeth. “Never want to pull out.”

While you are trying to calm down, Minho keeps fucking you, but his hand reaches for you and pets your head as he leans over so he can look at you. “Good fucking girl… So good. Came so hard for me, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, practically purring with pleasure—his cock is so satisfying, but his touch is making you want to melt. You're not sure how he manages to fuck so hard and be so gentle at the same time, but that's just a Minho thing, one that other men in your life haven't been able to figure out. “Just for you. You make me come so hard every time, Minho…”

You suddenly realize that you want to look at him. Sex is great either way—at least with Minho—but looking at him makes it even better. So, you tell him to stop which makes him freeze in place and stay buried inside of you. You shimmy your hips until his cock falls out of you and then you turn around to face him, still on your knees. “Lie down, handsome.”

“What for?” Minho asks, grinning at you as you lean in and wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a long, wet, horny kiss.

“Let me fuck you,” you say sweetly, pulling him onto the bed.

Minho lets you push him around, make him lie on the bed, and straddle him—all with a smirk on his face. The smirk turns into a pleasure-filled frown when you sit down on his cock and clamp around it hard, fingers dragging across his chest, leaving red marks in their wake. “Want to see all the pretty faces this pussy makes you pull,” you tell him teasingly, knowing it will fuck with him. “So fucking pretty.”

Minho groans loudly and spreads his legs, allowing you to sit onto his cock comfortably and start moving forward and back, gently swaying your hips. “I love it when you act like that…”

“Like what?” you ask even though you know what he means. You reach back and grab his balls, squeezing and rolling them around your palm, which makes Minho’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Like you know how fucking good you are at this, pretty,” he suggests, licking his lips, and his words make you ride him harder, make you want to rub all over him until he comes hard for you. “Because you really are.”

“Maybe I do,” you tease, biting your lip and starting to move even faster, acting like you're in a porn video made just for the guy lying under you. You know what he likes and have no problem giving it to him.

Minho groans and asks, “Do you say things like that to other men?” His hands move to your tits and squeeze them, but his eyes stay focused on your face.

You grimace at the idea of being this open with anyone else and start moving your hips in circles instead, getting to feel him rub you in a new way.

“Didn't think so,” your ex grins, realizing he still knows you well.

“I can't be this open with anyone… That's why I love fucking you, Minho.” By this point, you're moving faster, squeezing him with every circle of your hips. 

This keeps him grunting, and he closes his eyes, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. “Why is that?”

“You've fucked me more times than I can count… You've licked and sucked every inch of me.” You mean every word of it. You two have done it all and there’s just no shame involved, no embarrassment about asking for something you want—things just happen, and nothing seems out of place.

Minho's eyes snap open and he smirks at you. “And I'd do it again. Want you to sit on my face for hours.”

You giggle, starting to move up and down while your hand moves to his lips. A finger pushes inside his mouth, and Minho lets you run it across his tongue. “See? You're a slut for me, so I don't mind being one for you. In fact, I love that I can act as slutty as I want just for you. I can tell you all the nasty things you need to hear to blow your load, baby.”

His hips jolt upwards into you, making you hiss. You pull your finger out of his mouth and bring it down to your nipple, wetting it, enjoying the way his eyes follow your every move.

“Oh my God, keep going,” Minho urges, hands grabbing your ass, eyes looking up at you. “You just get hotter and hotter. When we first met, you couldn't even say cunt without blushing.”

You laugh at that, even though you'd still have a hard time saying it in front of some guy you barely know. Minho is a whole different story—he taught you everything, anyway. “That's true… But now I can tell you I want your tongue up my cunt before you fuck it hard and shoot your load into it.” Minho moans so loud and long you think he's filling the condom up. “You like me better that way, don't you?”

Minho smacks your tit before he pinches your nipple somewhat softly. “I like you either way, pretty. Liked you when you needed the lights turned off to fuck me, like you now that you can ride me completely naked in broad daylight and act like a dirty slut.”

You think you could come just from the things he's saying and the way he's looking at you, but you're focused on his pleasure alone, which is why you're moving fast, careful to sit on his cock fully. “That's because in either case, I end up fucking you.”

Minho nods happily, his face getting sweaty and red, and you think he’s never looked hotter than he does now. “More than that, but that will do,” he says, not caring to explain further. “Just a bit more, pretty… I’m close.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle and start moving faster, happy to hear Minho is enjoying it as much as you are. “Gonna come for me, baby?”

You know the pet name does things to him. Even if you didn’t, it would be obvious from the way his hands squeeze your tits or how his eyes squint as he smirks. “Mhm… Wish I could do it in you.”

“I know you do,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, sticking your tongue out to tease his lips. It gets Minho to chase you, which makes you giggle again, hips still smacking onto his. “You wish you could finish inside me every time.”

His compliments and looks are getting to your head, making you feel overly confident, making you feel like you're both crazy about each other, which is why you’re saying all these things. You don’t know if Minho wishes he could come inside of you today, let alone every time, but you’re not thinking straight.

However, your ex seems to be on the same page because he agrees with you. “That's because I know you get a little stupid when someone makes you come hard. You'd let me do whatever I wanted after a good fuck,” he says, making a good point. You were always so whipped for the guy, willing to try whatever he wanted after he’d make you come time and time again. “You’d definitely let me fill you up.”

“So confident,” you chuckle and lean in again, whispering, “I mean, you have every reason to be, but still… Confident.”

Minho scoffs and grabs your waist, pulls you onto his torso. Then, he flips over with you on top of him, getting you on your back with his dick still in you. The sudden change makes you even hornier, especially since he is taking control and getting on top and putting an end to your teasing, which means he is almost ready to come. 

“Do I need to teach you a lesson again?” Minho grunts against your lips but doesn’t give you the kiss you lean in for. “Is that what you want?”

Your pussy clenches at the idea of Minho's lessons—they always ended with both of you satisfied in every way possible. “No. Just want to see you come for me… Want to make you feel good, baby… Show you how much I like you fucking me.”

Your admission makes Minho go hard on you, hips moving back and slamming into you, cock entering you fully, pussy squelching with every thrust. “Yeah? Whose is it?”

You wrap your arms and legs around your ex and pull him into your frame, his hips still crashing into yours. “It’s your pussy, Minho, just yours—”

“Just mine, hm?” He sounds elated when he whispers the words, eyes zeroing in on your expression as you grimace and grunt. He’s fucking you so hard you can’t even tease anymore, even though you want to. Minho always enjoys teasing, but you’re too fucking horny for it.

“Only you get to fuck it like this.” It's not a lie—you never have sex like this, never have this much fun, never want to let a man do whatever he wants to you—unless you're with him.

“Shit, pretty, you're so fucking hot,” he mumbles before burying his head in the crook of your neck, and you realize he’s done for. “I want to fill up your cunt just once… Show you it's really mine.”

The idea sounds so good you want to let him do it. If there's a guy you trust completely, it's Minho. But, not today. “Maybe I'll let you sometime… After you fuck me stupid,” you suggest, to which he nods against your skin and keeps grunting lowly, cock still entering you at a steady pace. “You're right, you're so good I’d let you do whatever, baby, you have no idea…”

At this point, his thrusts are shallow, and you know he's about to come. Instead of filling the condom up, Minho pulls out while panting a hasty, “Can I do it all over you?” The condom gets thrown to the side.

You nod and spread your legs wide while grabbing your tits for him, sticking your tongue out. It's definitely one of your sluttiest moments, but it's also one of the hottest ones. Having a guy as handsome as Minho kneel over you with his thick dick in hand, jerking himself off for you, is a whole experience in itself. “Pretty, fuck!” he moans, eyes rolling back, lip caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I’ll—ahhh!”

Suddenly, cum sprays all over you, from pubic bone to neck, and you keep talking for him, knowing that’s what Minho needs. “Yeah, baby, give it to me… Want your cum all over me. Show me whose is it.”

You're bucking your hips into nothing, moaning while you watch him jerk off onto you, and you kind of don’t want it to end. Eventually, it does, when there’s nothing he can squeeze out of his dick, when all the cum has landed on your body, painting it white. When he's done, Minho collapses next to you, head sweaty, hair stuck to his face, breathing heavily.

You lie there for a while, not feeling strong enough to get up and clean yourself up—your entire body is still sore and turned on, buzzing with pleasure, your mind processing what has just happened. Minho seems to be on the same wavelength, except his hand is on you and he's rubbing cum all over your tits and stomach, playing with it absentmindedly. It all feels so warm and welcoming, familiar, and you wonder why.

So, you ask, “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot, pretty,” he says, sounding half asleep, as always after an orgasm. His eyes are closed, but he’s still touching you softly.

“Why did you decide to date me back then? You never— You didn't date that much before me.” You’re not sure why this is important to you, but you want to know. All the talk about your past made you wonder about that too, about how you never quite understood why he chose you, about how he was always a bit too good for you.

“Uhm…” Your ex hums while he thinks about your question, pointer finger dragging his cum over your nipple, making it pebble again. “I did date before you, but never like that. I guess you made me feel things other people didn't.”

“Like what?” Your voice quivers for no reason—you’re not afraid or nervous or tired. Maybe it’s the old insecurities creeping back up now that you’re talking about you two, about the only real relationship you’ve had. He’s definitely the only man you’ve loved like that.

“Like… You cared about me. I fucked around a lot, but I never really had someone who cared the way you did, checked up on me, was gentle with me. So I started caring for you and there was no way back, I guess.” Minho makes it sound so easy, as always, and it sounds natural. You two just cared for each other, and that made him want to be with you.

“I did care about you a lot,” you admit, years too late.

“I know you did,” he says and gives your tit a light squeeze, which would make you chuckle if you weren’t lost in all the thoughts about your relationship. “I did too.”

You don’t say anything for a while, but a question has been bothering you ever since you reconnected with Minho, ever since he walked into that bar and made you think of all the good times. “Do you think it's normal to have these feelings years after it ended?”

“Are you talking about Chr—”

You cut him off quickly, not even wanting to think about the guy while you’re lying in your ex’s bed naked, covered in his cum, which he’s dragging around your tits with his fingers. Not a good time for thoughts about the groom. “Us. Me.”

Minho sighs and rolls over on his back, joining you in staring at the ceiling. You miss the warmth of his hand on your chest but don’t say a thing. “I… I don't know. Do other people go through it?”

“Do you?” That’s what you’re more interested in here—fuck other people and how they feel.

“Me? Of course I do. You— I… I do, with you.” 

You turn to the side to face Minho because you can’t not look at him after he’s admitted to that. He looks almost angelic with his hair all wet from sweat, his cheeks flushed with color, plush lips slightly open.

When you two look at each other, your ex smiles. “Pretty, you're drunk and sad that he's getting married, and we've just had some… fucking amazing sex. You'll feel a lot of things. Don't get carried away.”

It's a warning that says don't care about me, we're just exes who are fucking. And it’s true. One ex is here to win someone else over and the other has never gotten closure, which led you to his bed. That's all there is to it, and Minho has spelled it out for you.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

Minho’s day starts on the wrong foot. In fact, every day has been like this ever since he realized you’re actually going through with this plan. He’s still surprised this is what you want to do, but he no longer has a say in any of this. He could have stopped you back at the bar, he could have stopped you at any point after, or at least tried. Or, Minho could have just told you he wouldn’t be playing along with your plan. He could have stayed back home and just thought about what was going on and whether you were all alone, going through with this insanity. 

He isn’t stupid. Chris is smitten with his fiancée, that much is obvious from outer space. The chances of him dumping this girl for you after years are slim to none. Therefore, you’re getting hurt here, and the more you believe Chris is the one for you, the worse it will hurt when he finally turns you down. The guy could let you down easy, but it’s his wedding, and he could go off at you for even thinking he’d do something like that in the first place. It all means you will be hurt—or very hurt—very soon on an island with strangers, far away from your life and friends. So, Minho said yes to this insanity because he couldn’t really stand the idea of you getting your heart broken and being all alone when it happened. 

Even if your heart was broken when you two broke up, you at least had Chris by your side back then, no matter how much Minho despises the idea. If you get your heart broken this week, you’ll have no one. Well, you’ll have him now, even if your ex doesn’t want you to even try to ruin the wedding and mess shit up for everyone involved. 

The first day here was not eventful—you arrived, checked in, and went for a walk. After that, you had dinner with everyone at the restaurant, which meant you two talked to a couple of people who were seated at your table. After dinner, you were allowed to mingle, which is when you separated. The truth is, someone’s grandma was looking for a dance partner and you said Minho was great, so he took her for a spin or two. A line to be his dance partner formed, and he didn’t have the heart to turn any of the sweet old ladies down, so he danced a lot.

You did too, just not with him. Maybe you knew history might repeat itself and that you might end up going back home with him. Maybe you just wanted to be around Chris more. Whatever it was, you two didn’t dance, and you went to bed earlier than he did, kissing his cheek before going up to your room alone. 

So, nothing eventful happened even if the day was very eye-opening. For the longest time, he thought you broke up with him for Chris. You were always by his side and then realized Minho wasn’t what you wanted when the guy you wanted to be with was right there with you, so you dumped him and moved along. In Minho’s head, you had fucked Chris the second you two broke up and you two just didn’t take things further. 

So, hearing you tell him about this chance you and Chris had and turning it down because you weren’t over him awoke something in him, something that made it difficult for Minho to fall asleep last night, something that made him think that maybe he made a mistake too. He shouldn’t have stopped calling. Clearly, you and Chris didn’t stand a chance even back then, but you two… Maybe you did. 

This day started off wrong because he barely got any sleep last night, courtesy of memories and regret. Today is a bit different, though. Hours after he finally falls asleep, Minho is woken up by a phone call at the crack of dawn. Naturally, he sat up in bed and picked up, hoping it isn’t an emergency, hoping his family and friends are safe.

“Have I died?” Jisung asks, his tone giving off his annoyance. “Is this my personal brand of hell? Is this what Satan has planned for me all along? Is this shit the burden I have to carry for not making that ex orgasm back in college? Is it, Minho!?”

Minho is not surprised in the slightest by his friend’s dramatism, but he is confused as to what has caused it and why he has to hear about it right now. “You haven’t died, but you will if you keep waking me up this early to be a drama queen,” he’s quick to tease, scoffing. But, Minho is already awake so he might as well talk to Jisung. “What is going on?”

“Please, tell me you’re not actually accompanying the devil herself to this wedding!” his best friend shouts, letting his feelings be known from the start. “What the hell, man?”

Ah, Han Jisung, Minho’s best friend and your mortal enemy. Nobody was annoyed with you more than Jisung, even after the breakup when Minho was supposed to hate you. His best friend did it all for him—Jisung skipped the stages of grief until he got to anger and simply stayed there on Minho’s behalf, seething with anger whenever you’d get mentioned.

“The devil herself!” Minho snickers at the nickname he hasn’t heard in years, remembering the exact place he heard it first—a dingy little coffee place Jisung took him to get him out of his apartment for the first time in days. “Aren’t you being a tad too dramatic?”

“Dramatic!?” Jisung raises his voice, and Minho hopes the fool is at home and not somewhere in public where people can hear him. “The sheer amount of energy I had to spend to get you to even talk to me about the breakup is unreal. I won’t even mention how hard I had to fight to get you to go outside, come out partying with us, and go back to normal. This girl broke your heart back then. It took me a long time to help you get back to life pre-devil, and you’re still not there yet.”

Minho has always been thankful for Jisung’s friendship. He is the friend who knows about all his secrets, including you. The friends he’s made later in college or at work aren’t aware of the effect you had on young Minho’s life, which is why Jisung simply knows him best. Still, he’s wrong about this. “Please, I’m doing fi—”

“Oh, shut up!” Jisung interrupts, showing his annoyance. The guy really can’t fake anything, which is why Minho loves him—usually. “If you were doing fine, you’d be with some nice girl on a romantic getaway getting your brains fucked out, not being a fake date as a favor to your ex who broke up with you over the guy whose wedding you’re attending.” 

When Jisung puts it like that, it does all sound irrational and strange and kind of pathetic, like he’s still stuck in the post-breakup period. It sounds like a soap opera where he’s the loser who follows the main character around. But, Minho is not admitting to that. “And how do you know all of that, nosy?”

The thing is, Minho didn’t tell Jisung or his other friends where he was going just because he wanted to avoid this conversation. He decided to tell them once he got back home. It was also very weird to explain to someone else, so he just said he got an offer to be a plus one to someone’s wedding and was taking it for the free booze. You were not mentioned.

His best friend giggles, seemingly happy with himself. “You were avoiding my calls, so I asked your mom.”

Of course, Jisung always finds a way, even when Minho hates it. He makes a mental note to himself to talk to his mom about her soft spot for his best friend. “Okay, so yeah, we’re here for Chris’s wedding, but I’m not helping her with anything. In fact, she’s here to win him over, so I’m kind of watching her fail.”

“God, so she’s still into that dude!?” Jisung once again scoffs in annoyance, and Minho feels the same way about the whole thing. What does Chris even have to offer, other than being a nice guy? From Minho’s perspective, after everything, he thinks even that is questionable. “First of all, who even goes to a wedding to crash it? Dick move. Send a text, call the dude, show up at his place, do all of that.”

Minho hums, wholeheartedly agreeing. That is what he told you back then at the bar, offered you so many ways out of this, yet you chose to go through with the worst plan of them all.

Jisung continues, still clearly angry about everything he’s learned. “Second of all, who the fuck goes along with this plan just to get closer to their ex who doesn’t give a shit about them?” He pauses just to groan out of frustration. “Just so you know, Minho, I’m blaming you here. I expect this of the devil, but I didn’t think you’d be such a fool.”

The words kind of hurt, Minho can’t lie, but he’s not going to let it show. He is an idiot for saying yes to this, and he knows it. He’s learned some new things, though, things that make him feel better about the relationship you two used to have. At the same time, they also make him feel worse. But, it’s all in the past now. “I’m not here to get closer to her. Like I’ve said, I’m here to watch her fail.”

“Minho, cut the bullshit!” Jisung says sternly. “I’m sure you’re not there to do that. If you were, you’d actually have to be happy about watching her fail and be miserable, and you can’t do that.”

The truth does have a way of getting to you, so Minho just sighs and stays silent for a while. He wouldn’t be happy to see you hurt, that much is true. In fact, that’s his reason for accompanying you here. “Okay, you’re right, I’m not going to be happy if she gets hurt, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything. All I want is for you to get on a fucking plane and come home. Meet someone else,” he says as if that’s so easy to do, as if there are a million versions of you out there. Maybe there are, but the chemistry is rarely there. Even if there is, their personalities don’t mix well, so it all fails. “There are tons of women who’d kill for a fraction of the attention you’re giving to this person who’s never appreciated you.”

“You’re being a bit too harsh now,” Minho warns his friend, immediately realizing that he’s taking your side again when there are no sides. Why should he defend you? “We had a nice time when we were together, and things just didn’t work out. I got hurt because I didn’t think we’d ever break up, but that one’s on me.”

“You were a great boyfriend, and she just gave up on you for no reason,” Jisung points out, reminding Minho of how terrible it all seemed back then. After all, Jisung is the one who helped him heal after he was dumped out of the blue, so he remembers every detail. “Yeah, you had nice times, but you were hurt over her. Was she hurt over you or did she run into this jerk’s arms? And I just know those arms were open because that dude was waiting for the breakup to happen.”

“Well, you won't believe it, but I found out she rejected him because of me after we broke up,” Minho delivers the news to his friend, hating the fact that his mouth is turning upwards into a smirk. He shouldn’t be happy about this—it’s not a “win” or anything like that. “He tried something, but she was too hurt over the breakup to do it. So, I guess it wasn’t just me.”

“She could have fucking called then!” Jisung simply adds, glossing over Minho’s news. “It’s not like you were doing anything better at the time. You called her after every single fight. The first time you don’t call, you two break up. Anyway, it’s in the past. I don’t want her to start messing with you again.”

“Nobody’s messing with me,” Minho laughs, endeared by his friend’s worry, “I’m having an okay time, and it will be over soon.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid! I know you get dumb around her,” Jisung warns before changing the topic to something that happened at work, making Minho sigh with relief. It’s easier to follow this conversation, easier to come up with a realtor, easier to have fun talking to Jisung when he’s not feeling so dumb for being here in the first place.

As if the ribbing he gets from his best friend isn’t enough, Minho walks down to the breakfast room to find out that today’s hangout event is happening by the pool. 

Bonus: there would be just a couple of people because most of the guests were going on a jet-ski trip, which sounded like his personal brand of hell. Granted, the pool thing doesn’t sound that good either, but anything is better than the possibility of falling off a jet ski into the open sea.

As expected, the hangout is just another opportunity for Chris to show off his amazing body and swimming skills while Minho stays on his sunbed, drinks a cocktail, and reads a book, hoping to God nobody is going to force him to go into the pool. Swimming isn’t his strong suit and he is just afraid of it, always preferring the mountains over the sea anyway. Swimming is overrated.

You, of course, spend most of your time in the pool, talking to Chris. Even when you two aren’t swimming or jumping in, you are chatting to each other, giggling about something, and having fun with some of his friends. At this point, Minho can’t be more annoyed even if he tries.

Here he is, pretending to be your boyfriend, sitting on a lounge chair, sipping on a cocktail, and reading a book when he’s in fact been stuck on the same page for an hour because he keeps sneaking glances your way, and you—his fake girlfriend—don’t even notice him.

For some reason, he wants you badly today. Maybe it’s because you’ve let your hair down or because you sound so pretty when you laugh or because the conversation with his friend had the opposite of the intended effect. All it did was make Minho reminisce about the time you spent together and how much he actually enjoyed being with you, even though he kind of hated college and most people around him and all the studying.

You were definitely one of the best parts of his college experience. Even when Minho was stressed or worn out, he’d come to your place and get lost in your body, forgetting all about the bad day he’s had. That’s just how you made him feel. Your kisses and touches had the power to wipe away his worries, to make time stop for a while, to allow him to focus only on you, which is something he missed.

Not many things nowadays made Minho feel that, sadly, which is why he’s now staring at you from across the pool and wishing you’d pay attention to him for just a minute or two so he wouldn’t feel as shitty as he does. 

It’s as if God is answering his prayers but in all the wrong ways—a lady sits down on the lounger right next to his and nods at him. Everything about her looks expensive, from her swimsuit and the jewelry she’s wearing to the strong perfume that suddenly engulfs him. The lady is definitely older than him by far, but she could compete with women his age because of her good looks and the way she carries herself.

“I don’t think anyone has introduced me to you yet,” she tells Minho as she checks him out, being rather obvious about it. “What a shame.”

He laughs at their straightforwardness and nods. “Indeed,” he sits up and offers the lady his hand to shake. “Minho.”

“Seoyoon.” She shakes his hand firmly like she means it. “So, Minho, why are you all alone over here? All the other young people are having fun and you seem to be… lonely.”

Minho likes to think he knows women well and can figure them out quickly. Because of this, he just has a feeling Seoyoon wants him. In fact, it seems like she’s not even trying to hide it. If he wanted to, he could tell her his room number, and just go upstairs. She’d show up, they’d fuck around, and he’d spend an afternoon having fun—as opposed to sitting around and waiting for you to talk to him.

But, does Minho want to? He’s already gotten himself in a lot more shit than he ever planned. “I’d much rather stay in the shade than jump around the pool. But, my girlfriend is in there, so I’m keeping an eye on her.”

Seoyoon’s expression changes, but the smirk is still plastered across her pretty face. “If I were her, I wouldn’t leave a guy like you alone,” she adds with a grin before lying down in the chair. “I’m guessing you’re here on the groom’s side. I haven’t seen you before.”

“Yes,” Minho agrees, but quickly corrects himself. “Well, my girlfriend is.” That’s what you are, for intents and purposes of this trip—his. Why aren’t you acting like it? “And you?”

“I’m the bride’s mother.” Oh, wow. Good thing Minho didn’t invite Seoyoon anywhere and think with his dick. Otherwise, it would be very clear your “relationship” is a sham. “I thought you were one of Chris’s friends who didn’t bring a plus one…” She lets her voice trail off as she eyes him again, eyebrow slowly raising. So, Sunyoung’s mom thought Minho was single when she walked over and started flirting. Interesting. “My bad.”

“I see why you’d think that,” Minho admits, laughing at his own misery. “I am mostly alone, but she’s the only person I know here and she’s been dying to catch up with Chris, so…” He spreads his arms and looks at his cocktail. “I’m on vacation, so I can drink in peace, at least.”

“I hear you, Minho,” Seoyoon tells him, lifting her cocktail glass towards his. “Which one of these ladies is the lucky one?”

Oh, she definitely wants him. A part of Minho thinks that she’d be down to go up to his room even though he’s told her he’s with you. But, it would be icky to sleep with Chris’s mother-in-law, no matter how much Minho feels like the guy deserves it. Instantly, he thinks of a scenario: a double date with the newlyweds, only his date is Seoyoon. Chris would fucking lose it.

Minho stops thinking about it and describes the swimsuit you’re wearing, which makes it easier for Seoyoon to find you. When she does, she nods and hums knowingly, glancing at him again. “You have good taste.”

“Right?” He laughs, looking at you for a second or two, during which you actually notice him and wave, grinning at your fake boyfriend. You sneak a glance at his new companion and smile at her too. Polite as always. No hint of jealousy in you, none whatsoever. “I lucked out.”

She hums in agreement before asking, “Have you been together for a long time?” 

Since Seoyoon is clearly determined to know more, Minho turns to face her. “This time around, no. But we were together back in college.” There’s no fake story here, but he has no problem coming up with something that will make you look good here.

“Oh, tell me more!” She nods enthusiastically. 

“How much time do you have?” he asks, wondering if she’s actually interested in this fake relationship or if she’s just trying to see whether she’ll manage to get into her pants. 

“Want another cocktail?” Seoyoon offers while turning on her side so she can look right at him while he speaks. “I have all day.”

Minho has no problem reminiscing about your shared past, so he gives her all the details, withholding the information about what a scumbag Chris used to be. He’s not here to ruin his relationship with his mother-in-law, no matter how much the guy has it coming. Minho talks about how happy you used to make him and how terrible it was to lose you.

After that, he explains how interesting it is to have you in his life again. He doesn’t want to push it too much—you’re pretending to be together, but you are telling people you are not that happy. You want Chris to think he has a chance but also be jealous of you two and your relationship, so Minho has to tread lightly and be smart about it. 

“It’s so nice to hear that something that happened a long time ago when you were young can still feel real,” Seoyoon says once he finishes, smiling at him warmly. “It would be beautiful if you two worked out, especially because of your history.”

“It would,” Minho agrees but suddenly remembers his purpose here. “I do think it’s more of a one-sided thing nowadays, if I can be honest.”

Seoyoon coos at him, patting his thigh, which she definitely shouldn’t be doing by the pool to a taken guy. But, Minho ignores it because he knows she means no harm. “I think you just think that. Maybe it’s the fear because she broke up with you back then.”

“You think so?”

She grins. “Yeah… She’s been looking over every couple of minutes, keeping an eye on you.”

A while later, Seoyoon’s friend comes to find her, dragging her away from Minho to go be the mother of the bride and meet even more people. Suddenly, he’s left alone, a couple of cocktails in, and his gaze finds you quickly. You’re now talking to Chris again, but Minho notices you looking at him every once in a while, which makes him feel a bit better. At least you didn’t forget he was here for you.

The alone time he shares with his third cocktail of the day doesn’t last long—the bride-to-be sits down next to him, plopping on the sunbed with a giggle.

“Minho, right?” Sunyoung greets him politely, and he nods. “I’m sorry, I’ve met a lot of people this week, I’m doing my best to keep up with everyone and get to know people.”

“Don’t worry, Sunyoung,” he says, clearing his throat and pretending to go back to reading. “It’s a big week, after all.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but…” she starts, and Minho just knows it’s going to be something weird. Did she notice you two aren’t together? Does she see the way you’re throwing herself at her future husband and the way Minho is letting it happen? She says your name and sighs. “I think it’s lovely, actually, the way you look at her.”

“Uh, uh, uh, sorry?” Minho’s kind of lost and flustered, unable to form a proper sentence. What does that mean?

“I just, I’ve been sitting next to the bar and just watching people, and I see you can’t take your eyes off of her,” Sunyoung stresses the word as she throws a glance your way. Minho does the same and finds you looking at him with a smirk. Be good, your glare tells him. “And I think it’s adorable. Chris told me you two dated back in college and that things didn’t work out, even though he was sure they would. What I’m trying to say is, it’s nice to see love win, I guess.”

“Uh… Thank you,” he tells her with a nod, unsure of how to proceed. Rich of Chris to pretend he thought you and Minho would work out when he was the one who made sure you didn’t. Asshole. “I guess it really does. You never know where life will take you.”

“Can I tell you something embarrassing?” Sunyoung lowers her voice and scoots closer to him so others can’t overhear.

“Sure,” Minho agrees, realizing that it’s more interesting to talk to Chris’s fiancée than it is to pretend to read and actually drool over you, so he leans in too.

“I was kind of scared when I heard she was coming,” Sunyoung confides in him with a frown. “I feel so bad for thinking it, but I was afraid they’d realize there was some chemistry there or something. I know they had a thing for each other back in the day, and all that, and sometimes feelings lie dormant, and you don’t realize it until you see the person again, and all that. But now that I see you two together and the two of them together, I feel bad for ever worrying in the first place. Some things are just obvious.”

Minho now feels bad. Sunyoung seems like a really sweet girl who also happens to be very insightful—she just doesn’t realize how much. He doesn’t want to lie to her, but, he can’t say anything to her, either. If Chris and you both have feelings for each other, neither Minho nor Sunyoung can stop you two nor should they try. 

“Don’t feel bad for thinking it,” he says, trying to sound reassuring. “I think everyone would feel that way in your situation, and it’s completely normal.”

“Did you?” Sunyoung throws the ball in his court, leaving him flustered once again. Minho has to lie to her now, even though he could use a bit of his real feelings to sound more honest.

“I wish I could say I didn’t,” he admits. Why lie at this point? He can just omit certain parts that would help her see the bigger picture. “But, don’t sweat about it too much, really. They were friends, nothing more. They never acted on it or turned it into something more, even though they had years to do it. That means something, right? I’m sure what you two have is a lot more real than that. You’re about to get married, after all.”

Sunyoung suddenly sniffles and pats Minho’s hand, her eyes welling up with tears. “God, I’m sorry, I've been so emotional all week. Thanks for saying that,” she explains before laughing at herself. “I need to get a grip! Want a mimosa?”

Your day starts off terribly, too. You wake up early and decide to go for a walk on the beach, get some fresh air, and be there before anyone else, feeling the need to be outside all alone. 

For a minute or two, you wonder if you should wake Minho up and ask him to come with you, but you decide against it. Is he really the type to go out on a walk at 6 am with an ex? Maybe, but you aren’t going to push your luck, so you go out alone—Minho is already doing too much for you.

Of course, as luck would have it, you run into the lovebirds on the beach, kissing and watching the sunrise wrapped up in blankets. It looks like they’ve been there all night. The two probably went late night swimming and ended up letting the ocean lull them to sleep. 

You turn on your heel and go the other way, not wanting them to know you saw them, not wanting to ruin their romantic moment. The whole scene is like something out of a rom-com and not real life, at least in your opinion. But then again, you are more practical of a person—you’d rather stay inside and get railed on every surface of the apartment than do it on a beach and have sand up your ass all day. Plus, the number of mosquitoes on such a warm night has to be terrifying. 

After a long walk, you return to the hotel, wondering what Sunyoung wanted you all to be doing today. You feel a bit better after a long, cold shower, but a familiar voice coming from an unknown number manages to ruin that too. 

“Han Jisung,” you scoff the second the man in question shouts your name. You haven’t heard his voice in years, but you’d recognize it anywhere. “Lovely to hear from you.”

“Oh, please,” he snickers, “let’s not pretend.”

“Good to know you’re still stuck in the past,” you mumble, unable to help yourself. Jisung has always had something against you and he didn’t really try to keep it a secret.

“Me?” he asks, sounding annoyed. “I’m not the one dragging my ex to the wedding of the one that got away. That’s you and your drama. What do you think this is, My Best Friend's Wedding? You know very well Minho is not about to break into a song, not even for you.”

The reference doesn’t go unnoticed, especially since it is something you thought about yourself, so you snicker, “And how is that your problem, exactly?”

“You do know how that movie ends, right?” Jisung reminds you so happily. “I really hope you do.”

“Good thing I’m not there to try to ruin the wedding then,” you lie through your teeth, but the guy is already onto you.

“Hm… You haven’t spoken to Minho in a long time and now, all of a sudden, you want him to be your date for Chris’s wedding?” He pauses for a second like he is taking time to think. “I smell bullshit. You’re either trying to act like you’re living your best life with someone he hates or you’re there to try to fuck shit up. Either way, you could have left my friend out of it.”

Jisung has always been smart, too, you have to give him that. Still, since you have nothing to do with Minho, you don't have to tolerate his friend anymore, thankfully. “Once again, how is that your problem?”

“If it involves my friend, it is my problem. I can’t believe you’re still using him for your personal drama. Did you just refuse to grow since college or what?”

“You’re being rude, Han,” you say sternly, not wanting to take his words to heart. “Minho said he wanted to come. I’m not holding him here against his will.”

“Of course he said he wanted to come!” Jisung shouts as if it were all so obvious. “You broke the guy’s heart back then, so much that he gave up on dating for the longest time. You went running to fucking Chris any chance you could, and when it didn’t work, you found your way back to Minho to waste his time some more. Why can’t you just let this guy be?”

It’s like a slap in the face, but even that would hurt less than someone calling you out on your shit. You are sure it all did seem that way from someone else’s perspective and that Jisung has every right to feel protective of his friend. You did treat Minho badly back then, it was true. Every fight lead to you wanting some “time alone” and then going to Chris to bitch about your boyfriend.

But, you did love Minho, too, even if Jisung doesn’t understand it. You loved him a lot, and the breakup hurt you too. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Han,” you finally say, unable to come up with anything more useful. “I’m not using Minho, trust me. He’s here because he wants to be.”

“He’s there because he wants to be with you,” Jisung quips, shutting you up instantly. “He doesn’t have to say it for either of us to know it’s true, right? So, like it or not, you’re using the weak spot he has for you for your personal gain. It’s time to stop. Find someone else to follow you around like a puppy at Chris’s wedding, hm? That’s all you fucking want anyway. I’m sure you have your options, you’re a pretty woman. No need to drag Minho into all of this, again.”

With that, Minho’s best friend hands up, leaving you to feel like shit even more than you already have. 

And then, you go down to the pool just to realize Minho won’t be the doting fake boyfriend you need him to be because he hates swimming and shows no interest in getting in on his own. Still mulling over his friend’s words, you decide not to bother Minho, not to be selfish and ask him to go into the pool with you, not to make him even more miserable.

Instead, you hang out with Chris. However, the more you talk to him, the more you realize the wedding and his life with Sunyoung are the man’s only topics. It is hard to get to know him better, see if you two still see eye to eye on important stuff when his life revolves around this wedding and his life with Sunyoung.

Thankfully, some of his friends are there, so you can steer the conversation some other way and joke around, not take life too seriously for a while. Your gaze does fly to your ex quite a lot, so much that Chris teases you, “She’s ready to mingle, so I’d keep an eye on her if I were you!”

You look at the woman sitting next to Minho and giggling at him. He is a funny guy, but the way she’s leaning towards him as he laughs tells you this woman definitely wants to fuck him. Anyone can see it, so you’re not surprised Chris has noticed it too. “He could say the same about us,” you remind him, to which you both chuckle.

“That’s Sunyoung’s mom,” he explains. “She’s already warned Sunyoung she might have some fun while here if you get what I mean. I don’t think she knows Minho is taken, though, so don’t hold it against her.”

“It’s fine,” you say, still looking at Minho and the way he laughs while explaining something to the woman next to him. “If that makes him happier, there’s not much I can do.”

A while later, you’re no longer talking to Chris but are hanging out with some of your mutual friends from back in the day. You’re kind of bored, so seeing Sunyoung approach Minho and the two of them getting along well catches your attention. He’s not going to get into the pool unless someone begs him to, but he’s still sitting there, lounging around because you asked him to. Maybe Jisung was right. 

“Should we be worried?” Chris approaches you from behind and joins you in resting your hands on the pool’s frame, looking in their direction. He’s joking, you can hear it in his voice.

“The only thing we should be worried about is them drinking this much before lunchtime,” you joke back, feeling a pang in your chest. 

None of it makes sense. Chris thinks you’re with Minho, but he doesn’t seem to care. Is it because he thinks there’s no hope for you two or because he’s completely disinterested? And why do you care if Sunyoung touches Minho’s hand when she laughs? Why do you care if her mother is openly hitting on him and he seems to be liking it? He has every right to go for it.

“Ah, let them have fun,” he waves it off, “she doesn’t feel like swimming now, we swam half the night.”

“You did?” you ask, pretending you didn’t catch them hugging this morning.

“Oh, yes!” Chris nods, a grin suddenly changing his expression to one you can only describe as happy. “We do it back home too, spend nights outdoors, go late-night swimming, camping, stuff like that.”

All of your pet peeves rolled into one. Nice. “Oh, cool. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself!” you say with a sigh, wondering if you’d ever go out on an outing like that. “I still prefer to be indoors or just walk.”

“That’s why you and Minho are the perfect match,” he adds. “You two always preferred staying inside and being together over going out on fun adventures.”

“You’re right,” you agree, even though you two are not a couple and definitely not a perfect one. You do, however, have a lot in common. 

That’s what’s on your mind a while later when you notice that Minho’s all alone, Sunyoung having entered the pool herself to be with her fiancé. While you can’t really stand the sounds they make when they kiss right next to you in the pool, you also feel bad for Minho because he’s been sitting outside for hours now, bored out of his mind while playing the role of your boyfriend.

So, you get out and sit on his lounger, making him move to the side to make room for you. “What’s up?” he asks, sipping on his cocktail through a straw and glaring at you. “Lovebirds making you sick?”

“I caught them making out at the beach at 6 am this morning,” you inform him for some reason. You don’t know why you felt the need to share that with him, but a part of you knows your ex will hate the idea too. Maybe you just want to test how well you know each other. “The horror.”

“Yikes,” he chuckles, taking another sip, “I think people just shouldn’t kiss before they brush their teeth. Anyone can miss me with that shit.”

“Minho, we’re the same person,” you joke, making both of you chuckle. That really is true—you two never kissed before you brushed, even if it meant getting out of bed and then coming back for morning cuddles. “Are you bored?”

“Do I not look like I’m having the time of my life?” Minho asks, placing a hand over his mouth sarcastically. “Oh no.”

“You look like you’re very hot,” you say as you move in to wipe the sweat off his brow. He looks almost surprised that you’re touching him that way. After all, he isn’t yours to touch, no matter how much you’re pretending. “Are you not?”

Minho breathes out, his breath fanning your face, smelling of lime and mint of his cocktail. “What do you think?” He’s suddenly dangerously close to you, even though you’re the one who leaned in to wipe his face. Your knuckles get rid of the beads of sweat along his hairline before you pull away.

It’s hot today, too hot to be outside. Minho has been sitting in the shade, but that doesn’t help as much as water would. Plus, he’s been drinking. “Want to go in?”

“You know I hate swimming,” he’s quick to turn your suggestion down with a sigh. Even though you’re no longer touching him, your faces are still close.

“I do, but we don’t have to swim,” you offer, feeling bad about watching Minho sweat because of you and your selfish little plan. He should be in his room or something, chilling under the AC, and not here in the sun so he can be a prop in this stupid plan of yours. “We can just sit on the stairs and get you a bit wet. Just so you’re not boiling out here. I know you hate places like this.”

“Remind me why I’m here once again,” your ex grunts at you and shakes his head. 

“Because you want your reward,” you quip, winking at him. You’re not sure what’s gotten into you, but you’re definitely flirting with him—there was no need for you to say that. 

Minho licks his lips and grins at you before he scoffs. “Desperate times, huh?”

You shrug, not thinking much of his teasing. If you’re desperate for saying yes to it, Minho is desperate for offering it in the first place, which makes you even. Equally as desperate, if you will. “Nothing desperate about good sex, if you ask me. So, are you coming in?”

You’ve taken Minho to the beach once around other people, wanting him to get to know your friends better. It ended up being a bad experience for him since your friends pushed him into the sea, unaware that he hated swimming. Still, he didn’t want anyone to know he was bad at it so he didn’t say a word, even if he drank a lot of saltwater and coughed the entire night.

If you remember correctly, Chan was there that day too. But, you didn’t even think about him back then, too preoccupied with your boyfriend and how sour things turned. That night, Minho made you promise him you’d never make him go to the beach with your friends again. 

So, you understand his reluctance to go into the pool, especially around tipsy people who might not think someone could actually be afraid of getting in.

“I promise no one is going to push you in or anything like that,” you say, lowering your voice, not wanting anyone to overhear. “I just want you to have a good time because you’re stuck here. Because of me.”

“You didn’t make me come,” Minho shakes his head before smirking. “Other than that one time back at my place, but we agreed not to talk abo—”

“Please!” You laugh, rolling your eyes. His words do make your body react, your mind instantly going back to the night you spent with him, the chemistry that didn’t seem to die even after years of separation, and that mouth of his that could make you climax whenever he felt like it. “Let’s go.”

You don’t take no for an answer, and Minho seems to know that since he gets up and follows you without a word. His cap is on backward and he has sunglasses on, but that doesn’t hide the look of terror on his face as someone sprays you two with water as you approach the pool. 

“Knock it off,” you growl at Chris’s friend, instantly reaching back to grab Minho’s hand like you’re afraid of him spraying you. “I’m not afraid to do a cannonball.”

The guy laughs and swims away, leaving you two alone, which doesn’t seem to ease Minho’s nerves. Slowly, you two make it down the pool steps, one by one until the water reaches his waist, and he hesitates. You’re still holding hands, but everyone thinks you’re together anyway, so it’s not a big deal. If it helps him, you would hold his hand all day.

“Want to go back and sit on the first step?” you suggest when you realize Minho doesn’t want to get in any further than this but is too ashamed to turn back.

“No,” he tells you with a sigh. “Let’s just move to the side so I can keep holding onto the wall.”

That’s exactly what he does, surprising you and going in to chest level, stopping there and just resting against the wall. It’s like he has something to prove to someone, but you’re not sure if it’s you or someone else. 

“Happy?” Minho asks you with a glare, but you can tell the water’s doing him good. He doesn’t look as red in the face as he did earlier, even if he does seem a bit exhausted, judging by the bags under his eyes.

“Yup,” you grin and rest your elbows on the pool wall, fluttering your legs while Minho stands right next to you. “Isn’t this better than being hot outside?”

“I’m always hot,” he tries to joke, but it fails.

“You are, but you know what I mean,” you say, instantly shutting Minho up. “Let me go get us our drinks.”

Minho panics a bit when you move away but stays in the same spot, hand outside of the pool, holding onto the marble edge so nothing happens. Nothing will happen, but you know it’s an irrational fear and he’s doing a lot by even going in. You approach him from the back, placing the drinks right next to his hand before easing your body into the pool and joining him. 

“Do you hate it here that much?” you ask after a while when you realize he’s still grumpy even though the water is doing a great job at cooling him down. You didn’t really think things through when you invited him here. An island getaway seems like his worst nightmare, mostly because of the planned activities on the beach or by the pool.

“Oh, can’t believe you took time off from staring at Chris to notice,” he mumbles but quickly laughs. “It’s not that bad. I’m learning that I’m a magnet for older women, apparently.”

“Oh, really?” You take a sip of your drink, wondering if Minho has been using his charms here already, if his night was filled with hot sex while you spent yours alone, wondering what could have been. Why wouldn’t he? He’s young, single, and pretty horny—wedding getaways are the perfect place for a man like him. “Good for you. Not one person has hit on me during this entire trip. I’m losing my mojo.”

“You say that as if you’ve ever had it.” Minho nudges you with a grin. “I’m joking! You have a boyfriend, remember?”

Oh. You forgot about all that. Still, it’s not like most men care if someone they like is single or not. They usually try and see if it works. “That didn’t stop those older women…”

“What do they have to lose?” Minho shrugs and takes a sip of his cocktail. “Besides, you’re lying. I have been hitting on you all the time.”

“Jokingly,” you point out, even though hearing him say that does something for your ego—it always has.

Minho scoffs and shakes his head. “You think I’m joking.”

“You’re not?” Suddenly, it feels like you two are the only people at the pool, like everyone else has disappeared, and all you can hear is your heartbeat and Minho’s giggle. 

“Pretty, we have the best sex,” he reminds you proudly, and you know he’s right. “Why would I be joking about that?”

Once again, you’re reminded that this is all about sex because you have made it out to be. You’ve said yes to his reward, you slept with him after the first time you’ve met him in private, and you’ve been joking about the reward. What else did you expect him to say? “We do, don’t we?”

Minho hums lowly and kicks his head back, his elbows resting on the pool wall. “I know you’re not a fan of compliments,” he lowers his voice so no one hears the rest of his statement, “if you’re not in bed, but sex with you is out of this world.”

It’s a completely sexual thing, but you’re touched by it, mostly because it’s the first time you’ve received a compliment like that. Coming from someone like Minho, you know he means it, and that means a lot—he’s always been the more experienced one.

“I have a compliment for you too,” you whisper, stepping right in front of him. It seems like Minho has forgotten all about being in the water and hating it because his eyes are focused on you and you alone. “You’re still the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He tries to suppress a smile but fails—his lips quiver into a cocky smirk, one that you know and love. “It’s all about balance, and we have it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… If you were too pliant and sweet and caring throughout the whole thing, I wouldn’t find it enjoyable. But, if you were too bratty all the fucking time, it wouldn’t feel as… fulfilling. You’re a mix of both.”

“Hm,” you hum and lean in to whisper into his ear, noticing how he gets goosebumps when your lips brush against the shell of it. “That’s because you like me to fight you every step of the way until it’s time for you to come,” you explain your view of the situation. That’s how you always saw it at least—Minho loves the bickering while you two fuck until he starts getting close to coming. “That’s when you want to hear how well you’re doing. Right, baby?”

You move away from him with a grin, and Minho looks to the side, scoffing but clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me hard in front of everyone?”

“Oh, how hot,” you tease and move away, smirking at him shamelessly.

“What’s gotten into you today?” he mumbles to himself and takes another sip of his drink, but you can tell Minho is enjoying the banter. So are you. Don’t you always?

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

Five days before the wedding, you meet Minho at the airport with your tickets in hand. He refused to let you pay for them after all, joking about getting his reward while you’re on the island. Well, at least you think he’s joking, but you never know with him.

As always, Minho looks dashing, even when dressed casually. The loose white button-up shirt he's wearing doesn't reveal much, except a small piece of his chest, yet you notice women glancing his way. Maybe it's the chest, maybe it's the pretty face, or maybe it's the tight-fitting shorts. Whatever the case may be, nothing about the guy lets on he’s accompanying his crazy ex on a trip she’s taking to ruin someone’s wedding.

Well, nothing other than his smirk and nasty mouth. “Well, look at you!” he greets you happily, taking a moment to check you out from head to toe. “Dressed to kill. Or should I stay, dressed to steal.”

You roll your eyes at the backhanded compliment and pull your dress a bit down to cover your thighs, which just exposes more of your cleavage to him. However, you can’t really care about that, not after sleeping with the man. “Please,” you scoff, “you’re a lot funnier when you drink.”

“I think you like me a lot better when drunk, yeah,” Minho snickers, alluding to the fact you’ve slept with him the last time you saw him, which was mere days ago. Embarrassing. He takes your luggage from you and lets you lead the way to the check-in desk while he pulls both yours and his luggage. Always the gentleman, even when he's teasing. "It seemed like it the other night."

Despite everything that happened, Minho decided to come with you and he didn't mention the night you spent together until the airport, which is probably a record for someone who liked to tease as much as he does. "Please, having sex with you doesn't mean I like you," you spit the words at him with a fake glare, but he sees right through you.

Of course he does—Minho knows you through and through. Whatever lie you tell him, he sees through it, figures out exactly what you're trying to hide. In this case, it's the fact that you do like him, always have, even if you two bicker and argue and don't really see eye to eye on things. What's there not to like? The man is sex incarnate. The worst part about it? Your ex is aware of the fact, painfully so. "Sure, having sex doesn't mean that," he catches up with you, walking side by side, his head turning to the side so you don't miss his cocky smirk, "but coming to my place for a quickie and leaving five hours later sure does. Not to mention all the things you let me do to you."

Your walls clench around thin air at his comment because your mind instantly takes you back to the comfort of his warm bed, to his safe arms around you, to you on his lap, riding him while he kissed you, to that tongue of his all over you, licking every inch he could reach, to his di— "Still sex," you say, stopping yourself from thinking about that while on your way to stop a fucking wedding.

Minho is completely right, though. You spent half of the night in his bed and snuck out around 3 am, the walk of shame long and painful, bringing a lot of unwarranted thoughts and guilt. You can’t go around saying Chris is the one for you and try to ruin his wedding but then hook up with your ex the first chance you get. It’s childish and makes you seem immature, undetermined, and that’s the last thing you are. Or are you? 

"Fine, you don't have to like me," your ex giggles with a shrug, "but you love my dick, and you can't deny that."

"That's what you think," you contradict him, even if the man is right and you both know it. You're pretty sure you've told him that time and time again while you rode him.

Minho stops walking, so you do the same. You two stare at each other challengingly before he leans in. "Oh. So you're saying you're fine with never getting this dick again?" Thankfully, he's lowered his voice, so no one can hear this vulgar question and see you struggle with the right response. Are you fine with never touching your ex again? He sure knows how to touch you right. A cocked-up eyebrow and the smirk on his face let you know Minho already knows the answer. "That's what I thought."

Minho and you don’t talk a lot on the plane, both busy reading and listening to music. Well, you’re also busy worrying. You haven’t seen Chris in ages, so you’re not sure how either of you will react when you meet again. Will his fiancée be at the airport too? Should you hug Chris when you see him? Will all those sparks come back or will you realize you’ve built this whole thing up for nothing?

The one thing you’re sure of is that Chris will not like Minho being here, which is exactly why he is here with you. He knows you’re bringing a plus one, but you didn’t give him a name nor did Chris ask for it. It’s a boyfriend, you told him, and Chris sounded taken aback, but he didn’t comment on it.

You worried for nothing, you realize when you walk out of the airport with your luggage in hand and see Chris running towards you happily, a puppy grin plastered across his face. He looks better than he used to, you have to admit. He’s grown into his nose and he’s put on some weight, which suits him. In fact, he looks bigger now, more defined, and you’re sure he puts a lot of effort into looking that good.

Your friend’s hair is a bit longer and black, slightly curled, and it makes him look younger and cuter, as it always did. He’s just as gorgeous as you remember, and your heart flutters when you see him, all the memories you two share instantly coming back.

“Oh my God, look at you!” he shouts when he’s close enough for you to hear him, spreading his arms wide. Chris hugs you like he always does—a bear hug, soft and warm, holding you closer a lot longer than necessary. During the hug, you realize he smells fantastic. Sadly, the whole thing doesn’t last as long as you want it to. You want to stay close to him longer so you can get all those feelings back.

Chris is all smiles when he finally faces you, hands on your shoulders as he takes your face in. “I’m so happy you’ve made it! It’s been ages!” Even though you’ve both changed with the years, it seems like time stood still.

Minho clears his throat from somewhere behind you, ruining your reconnection moment and bringing you both back to reality. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder, but not before you notice how Christopher’s face frowns the second he realizes who you brought along.

“Oh, Minho!” He nods, clearing his throat too. Chris being Chris, he never wants to let his true feelings show on his face, especially if they’re not nice, so he offers your ex a hand to shake. “Didn’t know you’d be coming.”

“The sacrifices we make for our girlfriends, right?” Minho chuckles lowly, patting your shoulder. A pat, really? He’s forgetting you’re supposed to be his girlfriend and not some acquaintance he’s just run into. But, you can’t really say anything since Chris is right there.

The groom doesn’t seem to find your couple awkwardness weird or he’s just good at pretending. Instead of commenting on Minho’s rhetorical question, Chris offers to take your luggage and leads you two to his car while telling you all about the next five days and the plans his fiancée made for everyone.  The only plans you care about are those where you two can have some alone time and talk, but judging by the packed schedule he’s describing, you’re starting to think that might happen as soon as you want it to. Still, maybe that’s not such a terrible thing. The feelings will come back the more time you spend around him, so it’s better to leave the conversation for later.

Chris drops you off at the hotel, telling you he has to go pick up some other guests at the pier. “I can’t wait to sit down and talk to you,” he tells you while he hands Minho your luggage. “We have so much to catch up on.”

“I’m sure you do,” your fake boyfriend mumbles under his breath. You hear him loud and clear and feel a sudden need to kick him in the shin, but you don’t. Instead, you smile at Chris.

He looks at your ex with a half-smirk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

For a moment, you think Minho is going to repeat what he’s just said. You think he might bring up something he shouldn’t, he might let his true feeling for your friend show. Chris has been talking only to you during the ride, explaining Sunyoung’s plans and asking you about the trip there, completely ignoring your “boyfriend” who was sitting in the back.

If you two were really together, it would have been wildly inappropriate. But, you aren’t, and both Minho and you know that, so you don’t understand the sour face. Instead of ruining things and being his snarky self, Minho fakes a smile. “I said, thanks for the ride, man.”

“You’re welcome,” Chris says and smiles. “Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t show you around the place and help you check in,” he turns to face you again, this time with a real smile on his face, “but we’ll talk later.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll figure it out,” you reassure him. 

“Yeah, she’s in good hands,” Minho adds with the fakest smile you’ve seen, his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you into his warm frame. “We have it from here.”

Chris smiles and says his goodbyes before he jumps in the car and drives away. You two watch him leave and then look at each other. “What an ass,” he mumbles, letting the hotel staff take your luggage from him. 

“Stop,” you roll your eyes and start walking up the stairs. You knew they wouldn’t get along, so this is all expected.

Minho catches up with you and grabs your ass as you two walk up to the hotel, some lady on the side chuckling at it. “What are you doing?” you ask under your breath, following him inside.

“Playing the role of a boyfriend who can’t wait to get his hands on you,” your ex explains, taking his sunglasses off. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

You nod, realizing he is right. You signed up for all of this and dragged him into this whole mess, so you play along and smack his ass right back, which makes him chuckle. “I think it would work better if you didn’t look like you wanted to kill me when you do it.

You two chuckle at each other and walk over to the reception, no awkwardness between you despite it all. You’re thankful Chris has left since it means he won't hear you and Minho requesting separate rooms, as agreed. He’d definitely find that weird.

The thing is, you really don’t want to share a room with Minho in case he brings someone home, which is highly probable knowing him. You’re not jealous, but you still don’t need to hear it, is all. You don’t really think you’re going to be bringing Chris to the room. In fact, the thought hadn’t even occurred to you.

Once you get to your room and take a long shower, you have nothing to do other than sit and think about what you’re doing here. You haven’t met Sunyoung yet, but based on what Chris said, she’s the sweetest, liveliest person out there, and you’ll have a great time talking to her.

But, Sunyoung is not what worries you—Chris is. You expected all those feelings to creep back up when you saw him, and they kind of did. You felt happy seeing him, you wanted to keep hugging him, and you definitely do miss talking to him. But, the conversation you’ve had wasn’t private nor personal—Minho and you just listened to Chris’s retelling of the plans and asked a question here and there.

For a while, you wonder if you should just give up on this idea. Even back then, you chickened out every time you were about to admit your feelings to him. It was either too soon, or you were too worried you’d fuck up, or he was going out of town to visit his parents. Something was always up, and you never got the chance.

Then, you met Minho and things went in a different direction. After the breakup, it took you a while to get over the guy, even if you found him annoying, even if you two only ever argued as far as you remember. And soon enough, you were graduating and moving to the suburbs while Chris moved back home, causing you two to lose touch. The timing was never right, but if it were, you two would have been perfect. 

If he gets married without you telling him all this, you’ll spend a long time wondering if you’ve made a mistake by staying quiet. What’s the worst that could happen? He can kick you out of the wedding. You’re sure Minho will have a great time in that case. But, at least you’d know for sure and you’d be certain you did everything you could and tried to make it work.

Just when you’re wondering whether you should go check out the pool or have a drink, Minho texts.

Minho: want to go out for a walk or something?

You: i was thinking about going down to the pool. wanna come?

Minho: i’d rather die ✌️ see you later then

You chuckle at the text, instantly remembering just how much he dislikes swimming, especially around other people. He wouldn’t go into the pool willingly, not unless he had a very good reason to. You did get him to go swimming with you, though. He even skinny-dipped with you once.

It was during your two-week visit to your family. It’s funny to think about it now, but six days into the trip, Minho said he couldn’t handle not seeing you for so long, so he rented a car and drove to your hometown to see you. That night, you convinced him to go swimming with you, guaranteeing that it would just be the two of you and that you wouldn’t force him to go in if he didn’t feel like it.

Minho did end up going in, but only because you stripped naked and went in, luring him to join you. Since he really wanted to have sex with you in the sea, he followed you, and minutes later, your legs were wrapped around his waist as he thrust up into you and kissed you as if you two hadn’t seen each other in years. 

You couldn’t blame him—you were miserable the entire trip, hoping you’d get to make an excuse and go back to the city and be with him. Pathetic, now that you think about it.

An hour later, while you are having a cocktail by the pool and reminiscing about the past, Chris texts you and asks if you’d like to go for a walk by the sea, which is exactly what you’ve been hoping for. You want to talk to him alone, want to hear how he feels about everything, want to see if he’s changed. 

You meet him outside of the hotel, and your heart still kind of flutters when you see him, the feeling of having your friend close to you warming you from the inside. He really did use to be a best friend to you, someone you turned to whenever you were feeling bad. It meant a lot to have him there, so being close to Chris again feels calming. Isn’t that what you should be looking for?

“The beach is amazing, you’ll love it,” Chris tells you as he guides you to it, and he’s right—the beach is pretty. The sun is slowly fading, so it’s not as hot, and there’s a light breeze, which makes your walk very comfortable. 

You stop walking for a second and enjoy the view, taking every single detail in, as you always do when you see something pretty. You could sit down on the beach and stare at the sea and the sky for hours without talking a single word to Chris or anyone else. But, your friend never was one to keep quiet. “It’s gorgeous, right? Sunyoung used to come here with her family all the time, so she took me too, and I’ve fallen in love with it. We decided this island is the best place to get married.”

“It’s really special,” you agree with a nod. “So… Marriage, huh? When did we grow up?”

“I know!” He shakes his head, excitedly walking, as always, limbs moving around, practically skipping. “It feels like school days happened just yesterday. But then again, a whole life happened in between then and now.”

“That’s true. It was a long time ago,” you agree, thinking about his words. They make you think about what kind of life happened to you after school. 

You work, you work out, have friends, but what else do you have going on? Are you happy? You haven’t felt a real spark with someone since Minho days, and that was a long time ago. What happened the other night at his place was a one-time thing, so it didn’t count as sparks, even if they were flying the entire night.

You want to think about it more because you get a weird feeling in your chest, but Chris continues. “It sucks how people just… Grow apart. I’m not that close with most of the people I hung out with back then. But, some of them will be here, so it will be a nice little reunion.”

“It’s strange to think about, right?” you ask, looking ahead at the beach. “All of us used to be inseparable. I couldn’t imagine life without going to your place and hanging out with you or without being around my roommate or even Minho, and yet… Here we are.”

“I guess that’s life,” Chris shrugs, as relaxed as ever. “What’s the point of thinking about it? It just happens.”

His chill manner reminds you of how different you two really are. You, for one, can and will think about things like these for hours, talk about them, hear what others think, while Chris just registers them and moves on, especially if it’s some deeper question he can’t find an answer to. He sees no point in dwelling on things he can’t change or resolve, and you see them as a lesson.

You catch up on all the regular stuff—work, family, friends, hobbies. It sounds like an awkward first date from where you’re standing, but it’s kind of funny. And then, Chris tells you about Sunyoung being the best thing that’s happened to him, and you feel happy for him, even if you think you two would just work better, if the old days are anything to go by.

“And Minho, huh?” Chris asks, dropping the ball in your court and reminding you that you’ve brought your ex here with you. Except he thinks Minho is your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” you say, a bit taken aback. You didn’t prepare any backstory with Minho the night you met, mostly because you spent it in his bed on your back, which is something you don’t want to think about while you talk with Chris—it feels wrong. It feels like cheating, but you’re not sure on which one of them. “Uhm, yes… Minho.”

“I’m surprised to see you with him, that's all,” Chris admits, clearing his throat, leaving something unsaid. “Not that I have a problem with him.”

“I know you’ve always hated him… I didn’t get why,” you say, deciding to be honest too. You have five days to have a heart-to-heart conversation with him, so it’s best to start understanding whether this is all a mistake immediately.

“I… It’s embarrassing, really…” Chris chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t hate him now, though, don’t get me wrong. We just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Tell me about it, I really want to know,” you encourage him but quickly realize you’re sounding too eager for someone who’s in a relationship with the guy. “I mean, I’m dating him, right? We’re just starting to reconnect, though. It doesn’t feel like he’s the one. It almost never does.”

Out of all those words, Chris seems to hear only two, which he quickly repeats, “Almost never?” That brings you some kind of hope for all the wrong reasons.

“I used to think you’re the one,” you confess, omitting the part about still feeling that way. You’ll save that for another time instead of saying it the first time you see him, the first time you talk to him in private. He hasn’t had a chance to realize what you already know.

“Huh.” Chris nods with a gulp, taking a while to think. “I did too. That’s actually why I didn’t like Minho. In fact, I hated him.”

Oh, so that’s why? You never got that impression from Chris. Instead, you felt like he was always just being protective over you because he thought Minho was going to dump you. To be fair, you felt that way too—the guy just seemed too good to be true. 

As if this confession gives you some confidence, you ask, “Were you jealous?”

“Ah… He does look great and he’s charming and funny, but it wasn’t that.” Chris gulps before continuing, the soft breeze ruffling his curls, making him look even more angelic. “It was the way he treated you. I could never even tell you how I felt, and Minho could, and he did it confidently. Once he confessed, he just acted like you were his and he wasn’t afraid of it. He made it all about you. Yeah, you two jokingly argued all the time, but out of all the couples I knew, you two somehow seemed the closest.”

Chris felt that way? Somehow, it’s all news to you. You never thought anyone felt anything when seeing you and Minho together, other than you two. Chris has a point, though, Minho did treat you well and he was never ashamed to say you were his girlfriend or be kind to you, even in front of others, even when it was “cool” to be cold and distant and tease your girlfriend in front of other guys to seem nonchalant. 

At that age, most guys thought they had so many other options and never wanted their friends to think they had feelings for anyone. Being tough and fucking around was the norm. Minho was the exact opposite—he never really cared for what others had to say. 

“Why did that make you jealous? We argued a lot,” you quickly point out, wanting Chris to realize you’re not happy in this fake relationship with Minho.

“I thought he was the one for you,” Chris admits, making you stop walking with your mouth flying open. What? “No, seriously, I did. He understood you well, but there was also a lot of chemistry there, and Minho, whether I like it or not, is the type of guy you should be with, so I really hope things work out for you.”

The news hits you like a train, and you take a second to recollect. Never in your wildest fantasies did you think Chris felt that way about Minho. You thought it was just good old jealousy. “I’m sorry, I’m still under the impression of what you’ve just said. You thought he was the one?” 

“Yes. I don’t know about now since I haven’t seen you two interact a lot, but if he still feels the same way about you and is still as doting as before, Minho is the guy for you,” Chris says, smiling at you warmly, giving you one of those ear-to-ear sheepish grins. “That’s what you need. You’re the opposite of each other, but not in a way that makes you argue and hate one another.”

Maybe you’ve fucked this whole thing up before it even began, but you can’t let go without a fight. If Chris thinks Minho is the one for you, there’s no way he thinks he himself is, and that’s what you want him to think. “I wouldn’t say that’s true.”

“Why are you with him then?” Chris quips, shooting you a questioning look before continuing to stare right ahead at the quiet beach.

The question stops you dead in your tracks again. You don’t have a plan for this, you didn’t think it through. Why are you with Minho, in this scenario? What are you looking to get out of him? “I… I don’t know.”

“Oh, wow. I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, but maybe you should rethink your relationship with him,” Chris advises, and you know he doesn’t mean it for his own benefit. He’s telling you because it’s in your best interest. Nobody should be with someone if they don’t even understand why.

“Ever since I saw you, I've been rethinking it,” you tell him, hinting at your true feelings for him. It’s shameless of you, and you feel guilt in your chest for saying something like this to a guy that’s about to be married. Minho was wrong—you clearly have some morals after all.

“Good old times, right? You and me… All that could have been,” Chris says with a sigh, movements suddenly coming to a halt. Then, he turns to face you, and he is sporting that good old smile of his that warms your heart. Your Chris. The friend you could always turn to. He continues, “What could have been is tempting, but it’s a fantasy. What you have with someone else is real. So don’t compare the guy to that because he’ll never match up to it. Nobody will.”

“Is that what you did with Sunyoung?” you quickly retort, wondering if he’s just telling you these things without even thinking about them. If he also thinks you two could have been great together, why did he never try?

“I—” Chris starts, but scoffs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just know that I spent a lot of time comparing other people to you and this relationship we never had and then I just realized it’s stupid and pointless and that I’d be miserable forever if I kept doing it. And a friend I talked to said something that really stuck with me. He told me nobody can compare to this imaginary relationship, not even you. Like, if we were together, you wouldn’t be able to be what I imagined in my head, because that’s all we had—imagination.”

It’s an answer you weren’t expecting, but one that hurts nonetheless. It doesn’t hurt because it’s a rejection, but because it’s the truth that you need to accept for yourself too. Chris was in your shoes back then and he moved on, which led him to this wedding. At the same time, this is your only chance to attempt something.

“I think it’s stupid that we both felt the same way about each other and never said a word. Well, we did kiss a couple of times, but it never went further,” you point out, wondering why you never talked about those drunk hookups. “We could have had this fantasy, maybe.”

“It wasn’t for my lack of trying,” Chris says with a shrug, continuing walking.

“What?” You laugh, catching up with him. The walk seems to be a chase at this point, with him moving forward and you staying behind, which is such a sad analogy for your lives, too. “You never tried anything.”

“I didn’t?” He looks at you questioningly. “Maybe you were too drunk, then, so I made the right call.”

“When? I’m confused.” You are pretty sure you would remember Chris making a real move on you. In your eyes, kissing you drunk at a party isn’t exactly a move, not one that matters.

“One time, after you two broke up and you were starting to go out and get back to your normal, post-Minho life, we kissed at one of those stupid parties,” Chris explains calmly. You do know you’ve kissed once or twice, so this is no news to you. “We were both drunk and horny, so I finally managed to ask you to come back to my place... And you said no.”

Your mouth dries instantly, stomach turning when you remember the scene. Why is your brain filled with so many irrelevant memories but decides to forget this very important one? 

Suddenly, you remember it clear as day: Chris asking you to come to his place before kissing you hungrily, and you wanting to say yes, but saying no instead—your heart hurting.

“When I asked why not thanks to liquid courage, you said you still loved Minho and couldn’t sleep with me or anyone else,” Chris continues, completely missing the way you’re left standing there in shock. While you think of the scene, you remember just how much your breakup actually hurt you and how long it took you to get over Minho. You were so used to him it hurt to be without him. “And then you broke down. We spent the rest of the night together, you crying on my shoulder about losing him. So yeah, after that, I kind of thought to myself I’d be an ass if I tried something with someone who’s clearly hurting and missing someone, even if I really did like you.”

“I completely forgot about that until now,” you admit, catching up with him again, suddenly feeling out of it. You wish you could be anywhere else but there, anywhere on your own, where you can think about all these things he’s told you. “I forgot I missed him that much.”

Chris nods and continues walking, the breeze caressing his curls as he does. “So, how was it?” he asks a while later, stirring you from your thoughts.

“How was what?” You don’t get what he means. Your kiss back then? That’s the last topic you discussed. 

To be honest, you don’t really remember the kisses with him. You were always drunk and nervous, and nothing more ever happened. Funnily enough, you still remember your first kiss with Minho, how you were practically trembling as you watched his lips move in closer and closer until he pressed them against yours for a second or two, just enough for you to know what he feels like.

“Your reunion with Minho,” Chris reminds you of the fake relationship once again. “Did sparks fly? Did the feelings come back instantly?”

“I…” For the first time during this trip, when he asked about Minho, you didn't have to lie. You did sleep with him, there was a reunion. “It felt… Oddly familiar. We haven’t been together in years, but it still felt the way it used to. No awkwardness, no tension, no hesitation. We just picked up right where we left off, or so it seems.”

“Isn’t that what it’s all about?” Chris pats your back gently. “And man, you two haven’t even seen each other in a long time, and yet things stayed the same. I think that’s a lot better than a figment of your or mine imagination.”

He might be right about that. While you dissect his every word and try to focus on your thoughts, Chris goes on about his wife-to-be. It’s hard to think when he feels the need to talk about everything and anything, but you still try. 

A couple of minutes later, Chris chuckles, nudging you and looking straight ahead. “Speak of the devil,” he whispers, and you realize that Minho is somewhere ahead of your two, sitting on his own on the beach, staring at the waves. 

“Maybe I should leave you two to it. I have to go find Sunyoung anyway. Haven’t seen her in a couple of hours and I’m already feeling bad,” Chris tells you with a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Instead of walking back to your room and leaving Minho to enjoy his alone time, you decide to join him without a word, Chris words still ringing in your ears.

“Hey,” is what you mutter as you sit down next to him and accompany him in staring at the sea.

Neither one of you speaks for a long time, but you enjoy the silence. It finally lets you think about everything, process Chris’s words and feelings, contemplate your own. The conversation just served to remind you that a) Chris loves Sunyoung, b) Chris thinks you two wouldn’t work as well as you both think you would, and c) you suffered because of Minho and turned Chris down in return.

So, you blurt out the question without giving it a second thought, knowing Minho will understand, “Were you sad when we broke up? I mean, did it take you a long time to get over it?”

He sighs and takes some time to think about it, his hand dropping down onto the sand and drawing random shapes in it. “Define long.”

“Weeks? I don’t know.” How long did it take you? It seemed like years.

“Months, more like,” he admits, surprisingly without any banter or jokes. “Why are you asking?”

“I just talked to Chris and he reminded me of something that happened back then.” You know you sound cryptic, but you don’t want to tell Minho how pathetic you were—he’ll have a field day with the information.

“Are you going to elaborate or?” he asks after a while with a small chuckle. “Always speaking in code.”

“Uh… Chris told me he did make a move on me back then, but that I turned him down because I was still not over you,” you admit, which makes his head turn in your direction. 

Minho hums knowingly. “We all make mistakes, I guess. Do you now feel bad about it? You had a chance back then.”

“I don’t,” you respond quickly, completely sure of it. “I didn’t really remember the whole thing until he told me about it, but I… I was really sad and I missed you, so being with him wouldn’t have solved it.”

You both stay silent for a while, staring at the sea, watching the waves hug the shore and pull back. It’s hypnotic, almost. 

“Do you think being with me would have?” Minho sounds curious this time, and you face him just to find his eyebrow raised as he inspects your face. When your eyes meet, he looks at the sea again. 

“Do you?” you throw the ball into his court expertly, but not because you’re afraid of answering. You just need time to think, and you know Minho understands that.

“Well, if we were both miserable because we broke up, I guess we would have been happy had we gotten back together,” he explains with a slight nod. “Could have, would have, should have… That seems to be the theme of this trip.”

“How melancholic of you!” you joke, but there’s nothing funny about it, so neither one of you laughs. His opinions just leave you with something else to think about, and your head already feels like it’s about to explode. 

So, you get up, take off your shoes and walk towards the sea, wetting your feet. You’re not planning on bathing now, but you just want to feel the warmth of the sea around your legs, hoping it would somehow be therapeutic. It kind of is, especially when you stand there for a while, feeling the sun on your face, the breeze hitting your body just right, the scent of the sea filling up your nostrils.

That, and Minho’s cologne as he walks up to you, unprompted. You don’t say a word, not even when he stands right next to you, even if that’s completely unlike him. He doesn’t like the sea at all, so him doing this is out of character. But then again, this entire trip is out of character for you, so you can’t say much. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone a lot smoother than before, lower. There’s no teasing in his voice, no joke to be made—just genuine concern, but that's Minho for you, always caring.

“Just… Thinking. About everything.” That doesn’t explain much and it isn’t really a response to his question, but you don’t have one right now. You’re okay, but you’re not.

“Hm,” Minho hums, as if he understands. Maybe he does. He always does have a way of knowing things. 

Since it sometimes felt like your ex knew you better than you knew yourself, you decide to ask for his opinion, like you used to. “Do you think I should just let it go?”

“Uh…” Minho clears his throat, taking a while to think. “From my perspective, yes. But I also know it’s hard to give up on something you’ve wanted for a long time, even if it’s clear the person isn’t on the same wavelength. It’s difficult to accept that you’re left with nothing and that your feelings will never be reciprocated. It seems like a waste. But, if the other person doesn’t feel the same, it’s just not meant to be. There will be someone who will return those feelings.”

As always, Minho knows what to say to get to you, and you instantly feel like crying. He wasn’t trying to do it, you’re sure, but your eyes water and you sniffle, grimacing to stop tears from falling. You can’t cry in front of him. Maybe he’ll think he made you cry, and that’s not true. It’s not his fault you’re so stupid and blind. It’s not Minho’s fault you’ve ruined your relationship with Chris, who seems to be set on you being the one for someone else. 

Minho notices your grimacing and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. “You’ll be alright. I promise, pretty.” His hand finds the back of your head and gently caresses it, knowing it calms you down. “It might hurt for a while, but you will be alright in the end.”

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

Your plan seemed so good when you first came up with it, but now that you’re waiting for Minho to show up at this stupid bar, you feel your confidence in the plan slowly fading away. 

Christopher is a great guy, there’s no doubt about it, but is he really the one for you? Is he worth ruining a wedding for? The more you think about it, the worse you feel for even considering it.

But then again, what if you meet Christoper again years down the line and you both figure out that’s what you wanted all along? He’d have to get a divorce, and that hurts a lot more than not going through with a wedding. At this point, you don’t even want to doubt your feelings for Chris—you can’t.

All your friends know about him, even though you’ve met the majority of them at work and they’ve never even seen the man. Still, your entire friend group is aware of the huge effect he’s had on your life, even now that he isn’t actively in it. Every guy you meet automatically gets compared to Chris in your head, without you putting effort into it. 

If someone you’re dating reminds you of him, he gets a plus. If someone is wildly opposite, it’s a minus in your book. You like Chris. So, someone similar is instantly better than someone the exact opposite. 

It’s because he’s the one that got away. You’ve spent years thinking about him, wanting to be with him, wanting to get to touch him and kiss him. The only times you two did that was when you were both wasted, and it always stopped at kissing. You’d kiss, get to feel each other up a bit, but that’s where it stopped. There was chemistry, but it wasn’t as prevalent as feelings. 

With Minho, on the other hand, the chemistry was through the roof. When you two were dating, you couldn’t keep your eyes—or hands—off each other. And when you kissed, you felt sparks flying. When Minho touched you, you lost the ability to speak, which is surprising for someone who always has something to say. 

Even people around you could feel the insane attraction, let alone you two. But, your feelings for Chris were always somewhere in the background, just like they are now.

“What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing here all alone?” Minho appears out of nowhere, sporting a dashing suit, and looking better than ever. It’s funny how he shows up exactly when you’re reminiscing about the past. “Surely not plotting to ruin a friend’s wedding!”

His joke makes you laugh at Minho mockingly, rolling your eyes and pointing to the seat next to you, which he gladly takes, but not before he leans over and kisses your cheek. Confident, as always. You can’t say you hate his touch—you never have. He always smells nice and has soft lips. What’s there to hate? “Waiting for a cocky ex-boyfriend to possibly ruin my night,” you’re quick to retort with a grimace.

“I’ve ruined more than that, so it’s fine,” Minho shrugs and looks for the waitress. 

When their eyes meet, she lights up and walks over to your table with a grin, smiling from ear to ear as if Tom Hardy had just walked in, and not Lee Minho. Great. You’ve been there over ten minutes and she hasn’t even acknowledged your presence, but Minho shows up and all eyes are on him, of course. 

That was what dating him was like, even back in school. People noticed him and they never paid attention to you, which you kind of liked. Being in the background was your thing. However, Minho being the center of attention and you being on his arm at all times meant you had to become it too, and that wasn’t your favorite thing in the world. Despite all of that, Minho always found a way to show you that you were the center of his attention, at least back then.

As he takes his blazer off, Minho turns to you again, completely ignoring the beautiful woman walking towards him. “What do you want to drink?” Once again, he shows you his attention is on you, but for a different reason now.

You settle on two gin-tonics and wait for the waitress to leave before you speak to each other again. “It’s nice seeing you again,” Minho says quietly, which comes as a surprise. It was? “You look great.”

“So do you,” you tell him in return, meaning it. He’s still the most handsome guy you’ve ever been with. Sadly, he’s also the best sex you’ve ever had, which just goes to show how bad your sex life has been after college. Usually, sex gets better after that age and not worse, but here you are to prove that wrong. “You clean up nicely.”

“It’s work clothes.” Minho sighs and leans back, grabbing his tie and slowly loosening it. It’s unfair that anyone can look that good after working an 8-hour shift, at least. “But they are cool.”

“She seems to like them,” you tease, glancing at the waitress standing by the bar and staring at him. You’re sure she should be working, but you understand her attraction—it’s not every day that a guy as handsome as Minho walks into this place.

“She seems to like more than just my clothes, but that’s not why we’re here.” Minho chuckles, looking straight into your eyes as he leans towards you. His hand is thrown over the back of your chair, the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, and he looks at you like he wants to eat you up.

However, you remind yourself that’s just the way Minho looks at people—like he’s read them already. There’s always a bit of challenge in his eyes when he stares someone down. “Yes. Have you thought about it?”

The mention of the plan brings back all the memories of you and Chris and Minho, and the whole love triangle. Suddenly, it seems like something from another lifetime, something long forgotten, except it isn’t.

“About accompanying you to Chris’s wedding so you can make a move on him?” Minho repeats your plan and makes it sound so immoral. But, he does it with a grin, which tells you he’s amused by the whole thing. Amused is good. Amused isn’t a no. “Not really. I’ve been thinking about my reward more. I’m not in the business of doing things for people out of the goodness of my heart, you know me.”

“Hmmm, that’s a lie,” you have to point out, cocking your head to the side to give your ex-boyfriend a questioning look. Minho cares about people a lot more than he wants to admit, and you both know this. His ‘I’m cold’ shtick doesn’t work on you. “You wouldn’t do it for an ex-girlfriend that’s treated you nicely?”

“If by treating someone nicely, you mean dumping them out of the blue, then… Uhm, no.” His voice is cold when he says it, but Minho’s gaze is playful, as always. Does he really feel that way about your breakup?

“Ah, always so dramatic!” You wave your hand at him, and then the waitress interrupts you by bringing your drinks over, taking her sweet time because she’s too busy staring at your date for the night and grinning. If you two were on an actual date, you’d be pissed about this woman so blatantly drooling over him. But since you’re not, all you feel is slight entertainment. 

As soon as she leaves, you whisper at him, “You have a fan.”

“She should get in line,” Minho jokes and lifts his glass. He’s hot and he knows it. You’re sure there is a line of women who want at least a night with him, and you’re one of the lucky ones that know exactly why. Because of this, you can’t really blame any woman that decides to throw herself at this man’s feet. “To tonight!”

“To tonight,” you say, tapping the tip of your glass against his before taking a big sip. Lord knows you’ll need it. “So, since you won’t do it because you like me, what do you want in return? Money?”

This suggestion makes Minho laugh wholeheartedly, so much so that he kicks his head back. “I don’t need money. The thing is, I don’t really need anything, so I’m not sure what to ask.”

“Well, there's gonna be a free trip involved. And tons of free food and drinks, I guess,” you speak fast, hoping it sounds more appealing than it actually is. After all, you’re asking your ex-boyfriend to come to a wedding with you, a wedding you plan to break off if you get lucky. Plus, he doesn’t know anyone there. “And I mean, you get to get away for five days, if that's what you want.”

Miho frowns and looks at you in confusion. “Wait, Chris is flying everyone out there and paying for their hotel? Look at him!”

“No, just the hotel, but I'll be paying for your ticket if you decide to go.” It’s the least you can do for Minho if he decides to take part in your plan and join you.

“I'm not letting you pay for my ticket, please!” He scoffs. Always a gentleman, even when it comes to something as silly as this, something you’re doing on a whim. You forgot all these little details about him, but they’re all coming back to you now.

“Does that mean you're going?” There’s excitement in your voice and you can’t hide it, not when there’s hope Minho might say yes. He’s the key to your plan—the man who drove Chris wild, the only man Chris ever disapproved of, the man Chris felt jealous of (or so you think). Either way, Minho is the vital factor that will put this whole thing into action.

“I…” Minho tries to say something but closes his mouth when he realizes you’ve caught him. He is going. “I guess the free booze is too tempting.” 

“Oh, it's the booze that got you to say yes?” you ask teasingly, knowing very well he could get a lot of booze for the price of this plane ticket that he wants to buy for himself. 

He could just not go. It’s not the fucking booze, and you both know it. Maybe Minho’s just as bored as you are.

“That, and the fact that you'll probably embarrass yourself and cause a scene or two, which means I'll have a lot of fun.” This time, his chuckle is a bit mean since it’s accompanied by the smirk that you’ve learned to love. 

When you two first got together, you felt like his smirking was rude and uncalled for, like Minho was mocking you when looking at you like that. With time, you realized it was just his way of poking fun. After all, he didn’t smirk at just anyone.

“You really want to see me suffer,” you point out, bringing your glass up to your mouth again, enjoying the taste of alcohol for the first time in months. Your life really was boring when the peak of your social life was meeting up with an ex-boyfriend for drinks so you two could talk about a guy you’ve always wanted. 

Minho does the same before speaking again, this time with a devilish grin, “I guess I want to see karma in action.”

You close your eyes for a second, sighing deeply. Is he really going to go down this road again? You’ll definitely need more than one drink. “Are you trying to say you suffered because of me?”

“You broke 22-year-old Minho's heart,” he says theatrically, placing his hand over his heart and sighing with his eyes closed, mocking your reaction from earlier. “I don't want to see yours get broken, though. Just want to watch you squirm a little, I guess.” 

And you’re sure he means this—Minho will have the best time watching you get flustered and embarrassed, as always. “Well, I'm sure you'll have a great time then.”

“We're going together, so I don't doubt it at all,” he breathes, smiling at the end of this strange statement, which makes you stare at him. Minho’s being suspiciously nice today. Since you don’t say anything, he quickly continues, “Want another drink?”

You nod, and he calls the waitress over. Of course, that doesn’t take long since she’s spent the last fifteen minutes staring at him, waiting for her cue. Once Minho orders, you turn to face him with a question, “Why are you being so kind all of a sudden?”

“All of a sudden? “Minho grimaces in confusion, pulling away from you to stare at you in fake awe. “What do you mean? You're the only person I always treat nicely even if you're not the most deserving, let's be real.“

Minho’s favorite pastime used ot be calling you out on your behavior. It annoyed you to no end before, and you’re slowly realizing it still does, but not to the same extent. It’s almost funny now, so you scoff and pretend to be hurt, “Ouch. You're really going for it tonight.” 

“Isn't that the beauty of our rela—friendship?” He pauses, lifting both his eyebrows at you. “At least we can always be blunt with each other without any hard feelings.”

That is true. You don't think you have anyone like Minho in your life nowadays, even though you have a lot more friends than you did at school. The way he treated you back then was perfect—he was always there to listen to your problems, asking whether you wanted him to help or just listen, which is something not a lot of people have mastered. 

If you asked for Minho’s opinion, he was always honest, even if that meant disagreeing with you. You were childish back then, thinking relationships are only real if you agree on everything or if you share the same opinions, so Minho’s opposing views often bothered you. Whenever he disagreed with you, you felt yourself moving away from him slowly, wondering if you were really right for each other. 

Back then, you didn't want to feel like the whole world and your boyfriend were against you. With Chris, you never felt that way. You always had him in your corner—your own personal cheerleader who'd support you no matter what. Unconditionally. And that's the type of love you've always craved. 

“You are right about that,” you finally agree after getting lost going down memory lane. Nowadays, you understand the importance of having someone like Minho in your life, someone who can point you in the right direction, someone who values truth over your feelings. If you had someone like Minho around you, you would avoid a ton of mistakes and issues. But, you live and you learn. “That is something I do like about us.” 

Minho nods quietly. “That's new.” 

“I guess I'm older and wiser now,” you joke, downing the rest of your drink as you wait for the waitress to bring the next round. 

You’ve been there no longer than half an hour, and you’re already drinking like you’re back in school. That’s not always the best idea around Minho, though. 

“Fair enough,” Minho mutters, shrugging lightly. Then, he looks up at you with one of those smirks of his, and you just know he has something annoying to say. “So how does trying to stop your ex-friend's wedding fit into this new wise persona? How wise are we talking about here?”

He’s got you there, you have to give him that. “It's not wise at all, and I know it,” you admit your true feelings to Minho, as always. There’s something about the man that makes you feel you can tell him anything. You used to do that, and he’s never let you down. “I just feel like I should say something, you know.”

“And why can't you do that now, without going to his wedding?” Minho smacks his lips together. “I mean if you go there and he says no—and chances are, he will—you're gonna have to watch him marry this woman. You can’t run back home without causing a scene.”

Minho’s completely right, as always. He’s made of pure logic and bluntness, always picking the most logical way without getting feelings involved. Logically speaking, you going to Chris’s wedding to try to tell him you like him in person is about the dumbest thing you could do. Emotionally speaking, it’s something you need to do. But, Minho won’t get that.

Still, you speak up and try to explain, “You're right, it's not wise. I can't say it now because we haven't seen each other in months. When Chris and I are together, the feelings are more intense, more real. So I'd like to say it in person.”

That’s what makes sense to you. If you called Christopher today and told him you’ve been thinking about him for years, never gathering the courage to call him and ask him out, it’s very probable he’d tell you he’s getting married and that you’re crossing the line. Chris is moral like that, valuing his promises more than anything. But, if you see each other, things may be different. He might see the potential, too.

“Then ask him to meet you for drinks and tell him,” Minho comes in with another suggestion. You hate that he always makes so much sense and that you end up having to explain yourself every time. It feels a bit like you’re getting scolded.

Still, you explain yourself again, keeping your voice low this time. “Chris lives in another city. I can't just travel there only to tell him I want him to call this wedding off and give me a chance.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Minho practically yells, lifting his finger, and chugs down the rest of his drink. Then, he sighs and gives you a wide-eyed look. “You can't do that, but you can travel to an island to attend his wedding to do the same thing? Pretty, you're not making any sense.”

Even though he’s disagreeing with you and practically calling you crazy, Minho still gives you a sympathetic smile as if he understands your predicament, which you sincerely doubt. Right when you’re about to explain yourself again, the waitress brings you the drinks, checking Minho out once more.

You’re not sure which one of you is more desperate, you or this poor soul who thinks she has a chance with Minho. When she leaves, you both take a sip of the drink, and you finally respond. “I know it sounds stupid, but... I know. I just think if he sees you and me together and then spends time with me, Chris might remember all his feelings from the past, just like I have.” 

It does sound ridiculous when said out loud, you realize. Minho’s slight grimace at your words tells you he feels the same way. Maybe, and just maybe, he’ll be polite enough not to call you out. 

“You think him seeing you with me of all people will help you with the plan?” Minho’s voice gives off his confusion. You’re stressing him out, you tell by the way he takes another sip. He’s already down to half a glass and he’s just gotten his drink.

“Yes,” you respond with a nod.

“Because…?” Minho leans in and scrunches his face, clearly confused. He’s so close now that the conversation suddenly feels a lot more intimate, and you don’t hate the idea, even though you haven’t had a proper conversation with your ex in a long time.

“He doesn't like you.” It’s not exactly news and it’s a thing from the past. You thought Chris hated Minho because he felt like you weren’t good for each other. After finding out Chris had a crush on you, you started thinking he disliked Minho because he was your only serious boyfriend, your longest relationship to date, the guy you really cared about. 

It doesn’t come as a surprise to Minho, judging by the way he rolls his eyes. “Shocker. Of course he doesn't like me. He couldn't stand knowing you fucked me for a year while he couldn't lift a finger to try to get with you,” he spits the words out before grinning at you. 

Even though Christopher is not there with you and he probably wouldn’t care about this, you feel like you have to say something in his defense, but there’s not much to say—Minho’s right. “Stop…” 

“Am I wrong?” His head cocks to the side as he waits for your response, challenging you to contradict him.

“You're not, but I didn't make a move either.” It’s only fair if you point out that there were two people involved, and that neither one of you was confident enough to make a move.

“Well, isn't that sign enough that you both need someone who's willing to take initiative?” Minho questions before drinking a bit more. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he’s nervous.

True. That thought has crossed your mind—maybe you were overhyping something that will never happen because you two are so similar it just can’t work. But, you have the perfect response. “Or that I should do that myself, which is exactly what I'm doing now.”

“By making a move a day or two before his wedding?” Minho retorts before shooting you a glance. “If you're sure this is the right decision, cool. But think about it. I wouldn't do it if I were you.” 

“Okay, thanks for your opinion!” is all you can tell him. You appreciate Minho’s opinion since he’s a bystander who can be somewhat impartial, but that doesn't mean you will listen to him. Have you ever?

“Feisty!” Minho’s chuckle tells you he’s not offended by your snarkiness at all. He never is, though. “Anyway… What am I getting out of this, pretty?”

“What do you want?” you ask, wanting to get to the bottom of this. So, you lean in and place your hands on the table, bringing the glass up to your mouth while looking right at Minho. This way, it feels more personal.

Minho doesn’t hesitate at all, confidently letting you know what his reward should be. “You.” 

For some inexplicable reason, your stomach turns with excitement at his words. It’s just the way he says it, the way he looks at you over the rim of the glass, smirking slightly as he waits for you to say something.

“Meaning?” You’re not letting him off the hook that easily. Minho needs to spell it out for you.

“I get to fuck you,” he explains, throwing all pretense out the window. You have to admit you weren’t exactly expecting this, but somehow, you’re not surprised. “For old time's sake. But only if you want it, too.”

“That's what you want?” 

“Yup. I have pretty much everything else,” Minho adds, leaning back into his chair. “And this seems like a fair reward if we both want it.”

You down the rest of your drink with a loud sigh at the end, and Minho waves over the waitress again, signaling she should bring the same again. 

“Can I think about that?” Your voice sounds so different from before—insecure, trembling. It’s not because you feel trapped or anything like that. It’s because a part of you always wants to sleep with Minho.

Of course, a part of you wants all of Chris, including that, but to be fair, you don’t know what any of it feels like with your friend. You do know what it all feels like with Minho, which is why you think about that often, especially when you get disappointed by a date or a boyfriend in bed. 

“It’s sort of a joke, but not really,” Minho explains, reaching out to rub your back slowly. “Relax, pretty… I’d never ask you to do something you didn’t want.”

“I know.” You nod thankfully. “I’m not worried about that, Minho. I know you too well for that.”

“You do…”

An hour and a couple of drinks later, Minho and you are no longer talking about the plan—or the reward, for that matter—and are diving into topics you usually don’t discuss with acquaintances. Minho is just that right now. He used to be very close to you, and somehow, that closeness is still there, even if you disagree on most things. 

You discuss work gossip and things that annoy you, tell him about your latest failed date, and listen to him talk about how he loves and hates his job at the same time. The bond is somehow still there as if you two have never stopped talking. It’s been years since you’ve had a heart-to-heart. Well, maybe you did discuss some serious topics when you saw each other when out partying, but those drunk words don’t count. 

Somehow, it feels nice having him back. It’s only because of the wedding, which will all be over soon, but having someone who can counter you without being insulting or demeaning is refreshing. People just don’t know how to do it. They either agree to your face and disagree behind your back or get angry and keep pushing until it turns into an argument.

Not Minho, though. He knows how to challenge you in a charming way, one that allows you to agree to disagree and move on.

“Do you still like dancing?” he asks with a quick smirk. Out of all the guys you’ve dated, Minho was the most fun. You usually opted for guys who were a bit more like you—reserved, private, not all in your face. He was the exact opposite, but somehow, that worked.

Minho took you out dancing more times than you thought you’d ever go out, and it was always fun, even though you never wanted to go. When you’d get there, he’d make you forget all about the other people and anything other than him, you, and the music. 

“I love it,” you respond, hoping he’s going to ask you to dance now. 

A couple of people are dancing, but the music they’re playing are 80’s love songs—not exactly partying music. Still, if anyone can dance to it, it is your ex. You’re more than a bit drunk, very lonely, and filled with emotions because of the news you’ve received about Chris. You need to have a good time and not think about anything for a while. 

Because of this, you grin at Minho and continue, “Don’t get to do it as much nowadays.”

“Don’t have a good dancing partner?” Minho suggests with a raised eyebrow. When you nod, he offers his hand. “Well, you do now, at least for the night. Want to go?”

You’re both kind of slurring your words, so the dancing is a lot slower than what it used to be, but you kind of like it. For a little while, you forget all about who you are, who he is, and why you’re there in the first place, focusing slowly on having fun, which is something you haven’t done in a long while. 

At one point, Minho, the amazing dancer, steps on your foot by accident, and that makes you both laugh loudly, holding onto each other while doing that. It’s funny to see him fail at something he’s good at, especially when he makes a grimace that’s borderline adorable, though you’d never admit that. 

And then, he stops laughing and just looks at you. “You should laugh more often.”

“Who, me?” You point to yourself, unsure of where that came from or what Minho means by it. 

He nods slowly and leans in to practically whisper, “You look even prettier when you laugh like that. Like you mean it.”

For some reason, his words send shivers down your spine, your lower belly clenching at the tone he uses. You can’t help it, not when he sounds so eerily similar to the way he used to, when he teased you, when he was trying to make you blush. You can’t feel bad about it, though. You’re out for drinks with a friend, that’s it. 

What Minho said is a simple compliment, nothing more. He is not Chris. Minho has a whole other life now and he’s no longer the guy you knew back then. He’s the guy you’re desperately trying to convince to come to Chris’s wedding with you and pretend to be your boyfriend for a day or so until you gather the courage to confess to Chris. You can’t let yourself wander off and get lost in thoughts about what could have been.

“Always the charmer,” you simply say, continuing to move your hips, and Minho does the same.

You don’t miss the way his eyes travel up and down your body whenever you move, especially when you get close, or how his hands are slowly moving down your back, lower and lower, but always maintaining a respectful distance from your ass. 

“Hard not to be when in your company,” he adds with a shrug as if this statement wasn’t him hitting on you. Of course, you know the man well, so you don’t take it seriously.

You just scoff and move back a bit, enough for him to lose the grip he has on your lower back. Once he does, Minho lets his hands fall to his sides with a slight pout. “My bad, I’m sorry,” he apologizes while placing a hand over his heart. “I just forgot how much fun I have with you.”

“We can have fun without flirting,” you point out, even though you know what Minho means by this. You have a lot more fun when you flirt.

Despite you saying that, you two continue to laugh and tease each other, hands moving towards body parts they shouldn’t be touching, gazes challenging each other to action. You’re not sure why you’re even doing this, but the chemistry is too strong to just back away. You’re both single, so who cares? Or are you?

“Minho, the girl you're seeing won't mind us traveling together and you pretending we're together?” you ask, knowing this will get you more information on his current relationship status. If he’s acting this way around you while he’s seeing someone else, he’s not the same old Minho you fell for back then.

“What girl?” he leans in and asks. 

When your ex is this close to you and you have this much alcohol in your system, you feel the chemistry. You always do. When you two run into each other at parties and have a drink or two, your eyes wander to the man who's now holding you as you slow dance, the same guy who's fucked you more times than the rest of the men in your life combined. 

Since you’re too busy thinking about that, Minho continues, “There's no girl.”

“Okay then, I don't have to worry about ruining something for you,” you add quickly to make it seem like you aren’t curious. 

“A bit too late for that,” Minho says with a grimace, quickly looking over your shoulder as he continues dancing in circles, hands holding you in place.

Two hours later, you’re at Minho’s apartment in a fancy building in an even fancier part of town. You didn’t expect anything less of him.

Everything is as neat as it always was with him, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you lie on his bed with your legs thrown over your ex’s shoulders. Minho is stuffing you full of cock expertly, like it hasn’t been years since you two have done it, like he hasn’t forgotten exactly what you like, like you’ve done this yesterday.

You’re not exactly sure how you two ended up here, even though the second he started flirting with you, you had a feeling it would happen. One smirk, and it was like none of the years apart ever happened. You were transported back to school days with Minho being the only guy you had eyes for, the man who knew your body well.

Your body reacts to him the same way it always did—you were soaking by the time you made it to the apartment, all thanks to his hand on your thigh and his mouth on your neck during the short cab ride to his place. Minho did always know how to turn you on. 

And he sure does know how to fuck you right, you have to admit. Usually, you talk during sex, because you hate fucking in silence or being cheesy and romantic. If you do talk, you’re dirty talking or laughing about something, there’s no in-between. Tonight, though, you can’t come up with anything.

“Please, there,” you beg of Minho, who seems more than willing to please. You forgot how pretty he looks when he fucks you, his face contorting with pleasure, eyes focused on you. You want to tell him that, but you can’t—his cock is dissolving any coherent thoughts you have.

“More, pretty?” he chuckles after he breathes the words at you, clearly happy about seeing you get so lost in pleasure. “Sure you can take it?”

“Mhm,” you hum and nod, unable to protest further and convince him. Instead, you grab the back of your thighs and pull them closer to your chest, allowing him better access, which makes Minho hum in appreciation.

“You’re always a good girl for me,” he grunts at you before starting to piston into you so hard you think you’re going to faint. “Take me so well.”

Somehow, it feels like time stood still these past years, like nothing’s changed between you, like you’re back in school and Minho’s fucking you after a long day, making you forget about everything and everyone other than him. He did always manage to do that.

The way he says the words ‘good girl’ reminds you of those days, too, and you moan in response, feeling so weak so soon. “More, baby, please,” you beg, so unlike you nowadays. 

But, Minho doesn’t know that—you always called him baby and begged for him back then. Still, the nickname and the pleading are somehow reserved for him only since you’ve been unable to call anyone that after, let alone beg them to fuck you. It’s a level of trust you can’t have with just anyone, and Minho’s far from that even now when you don’t even talk. He will never be a stranger.

“Good girl,” he hums again, making you moan loudly and buck your hips into him. Whenever the man praises you, you want to cry out. His hand flies down to your neck and Minho uses the grip he has on your throat to fuck you smoother and keep you in place. “So fucking good and wet for me… Taking it so well. Did you miss it?”

“Fuck, Minho, I did,” you admit without an ounce of shame. Did you actively think about missing him? No. Do you feel like you’ve been missing out on years of mindblowing sex with someone who knows your body through and through now that Minho’s fucking you so well? Absolutely. “You fuck so well.”

“Think Chris can fuck you like this?” He brings the man up out of the blue with a chuckle after hearing you moan. 

Minho’s hitting all the right spots, which isn’t surprising considering he put a pillow under your hips, just the way you used to do it. Plus, the hand around your neck is also a turn-on, and you can’t do much other than grab the arm with both hands and look into his eyes while he fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast.

“Minho, stop,” you say through clenched teeth, not wanting to moan while talking about Chris, of all people. “Don’t mention him.”

“Why? You’re clenching around me now…” he points out cockily, hips snapping into yours just as fast as they did before, pace relentless. “You like it.”

You hiss at him, “It’s wrong.”

“And it’s not wrong to go to someone’s wedding to seduce him?” Minho asks with a scoff, still keeping the same pace. He’s talking to you like you’re back in the bar and he’s not balls deep inside of you, like it’s a normal thing to discuss while he’s inside of you.

You want to say something back, but Minho changes the angle, which makes you moan loudly, fingers digging into the smooth skin of his forearm as it grabs your neck tighter. He’s just gotten better with age, more confident, buffer, more experienced.  

That’s the only thing that’s changed here—the way you two look. You’re still you, but older, with more scars and defeats. Time’s working against you and just adds more onto your plate. Back then, you thought you were buried in problems. Now, you realize how easy you had it, and how good it was to just have two or three things to focus on, one being your amazing boyfriend.

“Face it, pretty, you’re going over there so you can get good old Chris to fuck you,” Minho grunts into your ear, face starting to sweat, hand holding your neck while he uses the other to stay propped up over you. “But I know he can’t fuck you this good.”

“Minho…” You moan again. You hate the fact that he’s bringing Chris up in this context. You can’t feel this amazing because of Minho and have an image of Chris in your head—it’s just wrong. 

On the other hand, it turns you on because you shouldn’t be doing it. It’s like you and Minho are in on a secret that others don’t know and are now acting out on it in the most carnal way possible.

“Hm, that’s right.” He nudges the side of your face clearly unphased. “He doesn’t know your body like I do. You still like all the same things… It would take him months to learn all of this, learn how to fuck your cunt right.”

It’s true, though, and not just about Chris. You still haven’t had a better partner than Minho, and it’s been years. He took his time with you back then, learned everything you liked, taught you a couple of things too before you started to explore together. There’d be days when you two would stay inside all day, taking turns getting each other off, see who can outdo themselves, who can come harder, who can get the other to scream the loudest.

“Fuck,” is all you can grunt at him now that he’s let go of your neck and moved his hand down to smack and grab your tit. 

“Yeah, fuck… You know I’m right,” Minho says confidently and he has every reason to be. 

Before you can say anything, he moves his hand down to your clit. “Chris didn’t spend hours on his knees eating you out, did he? Or even more fucking you? It was me,” he hisses the last part at you.

“Yes, yes…” you agree, giving him enthusiastic nods. “Only you.”

“Mhm… I love it when you get lost when I fuck you,” Minho suddenly tells you in a softer tone, lips placing a soft kiss to the side of your face as his fingers continue circling your clit, getting your hips to push into his cock. “Can’t even speak.”

“N-no,” you agree weakly, unable to focus on anything other than his voice, so you close your eyes, even though the sight of him all sweaty and aroused is hot beyond belief.

“I know, pretty, you’re so good to me…” Minho hums, hips smacking into yours while he licks your neck like he wants you badly. “Always so good.”

Suddenly, he pushes himself off you until he’s kneeling between your legs, his cock inside of you, one hand on your clit, the other on your waist. This way, he can fuck you even better, using his knees as leverage as he shoves his dick inside you fast.

This way, you also have no choice other than to look at him. The fingers circling your clit roughly have you moaning for him while his cock continues moving fast—in and out rhythmically, touching the right spot, over and over… Minho’s hips are perfect, just as you remember. 

You’re not sure how long he keeps fucking you before you start hissing, “I’m close, I’m close!”

“Good…” he says, more than content with knowing you’re about to fall apart all over his cock, just like you always did. “Who’s fucking you well?”

If there’s something your ex likes, it’s praise, and you always showered him with it. Tonight is no different, though. A guy that fucks you this good can get all the praise he wants.

“You are,” you grunt the words at him, hands grabbing your tits so you can touch them for him. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Minho groans, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Say my name,” he orders you, voice a bit shaky.

“Minho!” You’re surprised at your own compliance. There’s no spite left in you, not even a thought about contradicting him, about making it harder for him. Instead, you just do as asked, feeling yourself falling into familiar patterns again as he pushes you closer to your orgasm.

He moans this time, sounding so sweet, like the man you used to love. “Again!”

“Minho, ah! Minho, fuck, just a little more, please,” you stutter and mumble the words, moaning with every breath you take, thighs starting to shake. “Baby, please!”

He chuckles loudly, clearly enjoying the way you’re starting to fall apart. A second later, you do fall apart, coming while he’s inside of you, hips bucking into Minho’s frantically. As always, he doesn’t stop when you’re coming but speeds up significantly, even though you think it’s impossible for him to go faster. 

“Fuck, Minho, fuck! Just there—” You dig your fingers into his hands, never wanting him to stop, even though you feel full and swollen already. You’d let the man fuck you until tomorrow and you’d love every second of it.

He’s so much stronger now, leaner, more experienced, and you feel it all in his hips. Minho fucks you so hard your back is rubbing against the sheets, pussy not getting a second of rest because his cock is back in it fully so quickly you can’t even blink. He’s doing so well, so you tell him that.

“More,” he asks, and you know Minho’s close. He asks for more only when he’s about to come, so you grab his hands and pull him in, making him change the angle so he can lie on top of you, just the way you like it.

“You’re so fucking good,” you say, resting the side of your face against his, placing a soft kiss on his jaw. “Fuck me so well…”

“God, keep going,” he sounds desperate when he moans the words for you, and you realize his preferences haven't changed either. 

As cold as he always tries to be, Minho lives for praise when he fucks someone, wants to hear them say how good he is, and is weak for a nickname or two.

“Are you coming for me, baby?” You use one of those nicknames, which earns you a loud grunt from him. “Hmmm, nice… Give it to me… I want you.”

That’s all it takes for Minho to cum while inside of you, the condom still wrapped around his cock, stopping him from spilling his seed all over your walls. He wants that badly, to mark you, to know you feel him inside of you even when he pulls his cock out, but that’s reserved for people you care about, not ex-boyfriends who bought you a couple of drinks and had a good time reminiscing about the past.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

Spring is the wedding season. It’s like all the couples wait all winter for the sun to come out so they can get married and show the rest of the world just how in love they are. You don’t necessarily hate the whole idea, but you always have to save up for wedding season. You’re at that age where your friends are starting families while you’re still on dating apps hoping to meet a man who can hold a conversation and look good at the same time. Are you asking for too much? Judging by how single you are, one could say that, but you don’t think men like that don’t exist. You’ve met a couple that checked all the boxes before—why couldn’t it happen again?

This particular wedding season just became the worst one yet because you’ve received a wedding invitation from Christopher Bang. The Christopher Bang. The same guy you’ve been in love with for years through college, the guy you’ve hooked up with a couple of times but never told him how you really felt, too afraid of messing up your friendship with him.

And then, when you were in one of your relationships that only happened because you were trying to convince yourself chemistry could be born later down the line (spoiler alert: it couldn’t), Chris and you ran into each other at a friend’s party. 

After many drinks and hours of conversation, your former best friend admitted that he felt the same way about you all those years but never had the courage to admit it, much like you. It came as a shock, clearly, because you always felt like he saw you as a friend only. 

Chris was supportive of your dating life and always seemed to only want the best for you, which is why you were shocked to hear that your unrequited feelings weren’t so one-sided or unrequited after all. In fact, the only time he was unsupportive of your relationship and had a problem with you dating someone was when you were with Lee Minho. 

To be fair, the fact that Minho was with you was a shock to you too, seeing as the guy was out of everyone’s league. The only problem? Minho was well aware of this fact. He is the type of guy who’s hot and  knows it. Still, unlike most guys who are conventionally attractive, Minho didn’t let it get to his head too much, even though he joked about his looks often. 

Sadly, it didn’t work out for you two. You were too insecure about being with someone like him, and your studies took a toll on the relationship too. However, during the year and a couple of months you spent with Minho, Chris continued voicing his disapproval of the relationship. Was it jealousy?

That was what running into him made you feel, that maybe you and he harbored these feelings for so long for a reason. When he admitted this, Chris was in a relationship with Sunyoung, a girl he fell head over heels for, which he told you all about at the party, not even stopping to think that maybe you didn’t want to hear him gush about this girl after he’d admitted to having feelings for you a couple of years back. 

However, you couldn’t help but notice how surprised Chris looked when he heard you felt the same way about him back in school. It was almost like things fell into place, which is what happened on your side as well. But, he was in a relationship at the time, so you two lost touch after the party.

You followed each other on social media but rarely spoke, deciding to keep your secret safe. Somehow and for some unknown reason, you felt that, sooner or later, life would bring you two together again and that you’d get to be with Chris. It had to work out that way.

After all, isn’t he the guy who’s ruined you for all other men? You haven’t been in a steady relationship since school, since Lee Minho, to be exact. In your head, the only man that could beat Minho is Chris, and you’ve never even been with Chris. So, when you’d meet a guy and start dating, you’d find yourself comparing the date with the ones you’ve had with Minho or the ones you could have had with Chris, and they rarely fared well. 

If some guys did make it into relationship territory, they’d fade in comparison to the fiery dynamic you had with Minho or the soothing loving one you should have had with Chris. 

And now, it’s all going down in flames. Chris is getting married. You can’t have him, and you will never get the chance again.

At first, you feel happy for Christopher and Sunyoung. You’re happy he’s met someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with, you really are. But then, a seed of doubt gets planted in you, an endless barrage of what-ifs that don’t let you live. What if you two could make it work? Why have you never called Chris and asked him to go out with you? You’ve only told him you used to be in love with him, but you didn’t tell him you still had feelings for him. 

The more you think about it, the more you realize you have to go to the wedding. You need to go there and see whether you feel anything for this man. If you do, you have to tell him. If he turns you down, at least you’ll know you tried. If you don’t do anything, you’ll spend your whole life wondering, and you can’t handle that.

But, can you really show up single after all these years? Maybe it would be better if Christopher saw you with someone else, someone you’ve had chemistry with, someone who can get under his skin. If that doesn’t awake some sort of possessiveness in the man, nothing will, and you’ll know for sure. And who better than to annoy good old Chris than your ex, Lee Minho?

Unlike you and Chris, Minho and you have stayed in touch—well, sort of. You both live in the city and move in similar circles, still sharing the same friends back from school, even though neither one of you is too close with them. You see each other at a get-together here and there, you’ve run into each other at a couple of weddings. There’s chemistry there, alright, but it’s still Minho and you, so it would never work. Despite that, you two still have a playful kind of friendship, if it can even be called that, so you’re sure that fool will understand this desperate move.

When you call him and explain your plan, the first thing that Minho asks comes out in the form of a scoff, “And what’s in it for me?”

Of course. Typical Minho, only thinking about himself! But, then again, you are asking him a favor and are only focusing on you and Chris and this insane idea of yours, so that makes you even. “My lovely company,” you suggest softly, which just makes Minho snicker harder.

“You’re gonna have to do a bit better than that, pretty,” Minho explains, using that old nickname he had for you, the one that you used to both love and hate. Nowadays, you don’t mind being called that by him—it just reminds you of good old times.

“Ouch!” You chuckle, feigning hurt when you know it’s all just a big game to him, as always. “Okay, a free trip and booze aren’t enough? I mean, your chances of getting laid at a wedding are astronomical.”

“You say that as if I have trouble getting laid as it is,” he is quick to quip, as cocky as always. Well, he is right. If there is anyone who didn’t have a problem finding a date, it is Minho, at least back in the day. “I’m listening.”

“I… Just do it as a favor?” You’re asking too much of a guy who’s a stranger nowadays, even though he used to know every nook and cranny of your body, having touched it in one way or another. Has he changed that much?

“Wait, we haven’t spoken sober in years and only see each other on Instagram nowadays, but you’re comfortable enough to ask this of me?” Minho asks in shock, pausing for a while. The longer the silence gets, the more uncomfortable you become with your stupid plan. Because that’s what it is—stupid. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I do have to note that you’ve gotten a lot more confident. Crazy, sure, but still confident. Love to see it.”

“Oh, shut up, Minho,” you bark back, remembering your old dynamic with the man. All you wanted was peace and love and quiet you’d surely get with Chris, even back then, and all you had with Minho was bickering. Granted, it did lead to great sex, but it got tiring after a while. 

“Okay, then I’ll talk to you in another five years or so,” he says with a loud chuckle, clearly amused by your predicament. The bastard knows you need him, and he’s going to use it, you already know.

“No! Listen, I need your help,” you sound a lot sweeter now, deciding to try to charm him into it, if that would even work on a man like him. “Please.”

“Let’s meet up for drinks tomorrow night, huh?” Minho suggests with a tinge of softness in his voice. You can even picture him smiling, but sadly, you can’t see it, so you don’t know if your plan is working. “This isn’t something we should discuss over the phone. Besides, it gives me time to think about what I’ll get as a reward.”

Wisp of your hair stuck to your face like spider webs. The insistent tangles tickled your nose with no mercy. You huffed, arched dramatically and tried to open your eyes with all your might, your legs extended out animatedly. You could see the unfamiliar darkness, and you squinted your eyes in hopes of relaxing your eye muscles. You bring your hands up, but to no avail when a sharp pain shoots through your ribs and up to your arm. You press your eyes again, this time trying to focus past the pain to make sense of your surroundings.

Then you hear it. Hyunjin’s voice is the first one you hear in your new world. It’s the first spark of light, ironically, that anchors you to reality when the rest of the world has been ripped out from under you. It’s something that you will think about much later in your life, something that you will always remember. 

“No, Ryujin, they don’t know,” Hyunjin says. “Y/n's mom talked to the doctors, and she’s stable, but they’re worried about–” There’s a beat of silence. “Yeah, I know, Ryujin. I’ll call you when we know something.”

You are exhausted and sore, your entire body aching, images flashing across your eyes like a bruise changing colours. It might be why you can’t open your eyes, why everything is still so dark. You try to say something, but it comes out like something between a mumble and a whimper. The kind of sound an animal makes when you know it’s too late to save it.

"Y/n?”

Your hand is enclosed by two larger ones, their warmth soothing. They are hands you know belong to Hyunjin. The long fingers, slightly calloused but familiar. You’d know even if you hadn’t heard his voice. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

“I…” you trail off, blinking your eyes furiously. 

You can’t see anything except the faintest outlines of darker shadows against a bright background, including what you think must be Hyunjin beside you. You untangle your hand from his and reach for your eyes again past the sharp pain, noting the shadow of your own hand as it approaches your face. But that’s all you can see – shadows, outlines, darkness. You blink your eyes again and come to a horrifying realisation.

“I can’t see properly,” you say, terrified and choking on a sob. “I can’t see, I can’t–”

“Y/n, hey. Y/n look–”

Hyunjin cuts himself off. You can’t look at him, can’t find any comfort in his familiar face. You can’t look at anything but the faintest of silhouettes. It's tunnel vision in the literal sense, the border of darkness increasing every second as if God's having the time of his life cranking up the vignette filter on queue.

“Y/n,” he repeats, voice gentler this time. “Do you remember what happened?”

Hyunjin takes your hand again and you let him. Your other hand reaches for your face again, feeling across your tender skin. There are stitches from your forehead to your temple and you wince when your fingers brush over them. 

“I can’t see,” you repeat, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks as panic rises in your throat.

“Y/n.” It isn’t Hyunjin’s voice this time. Your mother’s voice holds utter relief, which you can’t reconcile with your own despair. What is there to be relieved about right now?

“She says she can’t see,” Hyunjin says quietly, as if you won’t hear him. As if he can shield you from this.

“What?” your mother asks, taking your other hand, the one which hurts.

“What’s wrong with me?” you ask. “I can’t see anything.”

“We just called for the doctor, my baby. Do you remember what happened?”

You try to think, try to slow your spiralling thoughts. You’re in a hospital, that much is clear. If you couldn’t put the pieces together based on your injuries and the worry in their voices, you’d be able to tell from the sounds of the beeping machines and the sterile scent. Given that your mother was a nurse for most of your life, you have spent a fair amount of time in hospitals. 

“I remember driving home from the studio,” you say slowly, voice shaking. “It was night, it was late, and I was driving home from the studio. I called Hyunjin – I finished my piece, and – and that’s it.”

“You were in an accident, sweetheart. A drunk driver ran a red light.”

“How long was I… when?”

“Two nights ago,” Hyunjin tells you. “You have a broken wrist and bruised ribs, but they’re most worried about… You hit your head really hard. The doctors weren’t sure if you’d have any memory loss. Do you remember that day?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly. Your memories are fine – that’s not what you're worried about. Given the silence in the room, you figure your mother and Hyunjin both understand that. “I can’t see anything,” you repeat, as if saying it again might prompt someone to fix it. To fix you. Nobody answers you, but Hyunjin squeezes your hand.

They only wait a few minutes before a doctor arrives, although it feels like an eternity. Your mother keeps talking to you, telling you how they will figure this out together. Telling you how everything will be fine. But you know better. Your mother has never been able to handle when things don’t go well – it’s why she destroyed her career and nearly destroyed their relationship with pills after your parents divorced, and your father left you. Anything to be okay, to be better. That isn’t how life works though. 

When the doctor arrives, he asks you standard questions. When he starts talking about your sight, nothing he says sounds optimistic. There’s a lot we will have to see and sometimes people regain their sight, but they often don’t. The message is clear – there’s a small chance that you will regain your sight completely, but you should prepare for the worst. 

You are thankful that you aren’t allowed to have visitors that aren’t family right now. Of course, they must have lied about Hyunjin since he hasn’t left your side. Or maybe they let him stay on account of the fact that he’s your emergency contact. You aren't sure how to process any of this and stay quiet, mostly responding to what your mother and Hyunjin say with non-committal hums. 

“Are you hungry?” your mother asks.

“No.”

“You should—”

“I’m not hungry.”

Eventually, Josh comes by, which you are relieved for. He asks how you're feeling, which is a stupid question, but you get it. What else is he supposed to say? What is anyone supposed to say?

A nurse comes in a while later to tell them that visiting hours are over. Your mom tries to insist they stay, but you tell her they should go home and rest. You feel your mother press a gentle kiss to your head and then Josh tells you goodbye, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Make sure–”

“I know, love. Don’t worry about that, just focus on yourself – on getting better.”

You nod. The last thing that you need is for your accident to be the cause of your mother relapsing, but you trust Josh after all these years. In fact, you're grateful to some extent that your mother met him after your father left.

Once you're certain they are gone, you wait for Hyunjin to say something – to tell you goodnight, to tell you that he will be back in the morning. Instead, you hear only his steady breath beside you. He hasn’t moved since you woke up, aside from bathroom breaks.

“Hyunjin?”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding on high alert. “You okay?”

"Don’t you have to go home?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “They can try to drag me out, but it won’t end well for them.”

For the first time since you woke up, you manage a smile, albeit a weak one. You should tell him to go home and rest. You should assure him that you will be fine for the night. You should tell him that you can handle this, that he doesn’t need to worry.

You can’t though. None of that is true. 

***

“I don’t know Ryujin… It’ll be like living with a teenager.”

Ryujin scoffed, rolling her eyes in your direction. You had to bite down on your lip to keep quiet. You initially felt bad that Ryujin put Hyunjin on speaker, unbeknownst to him, but you didn’t feel as bad about it after that. 

“She’s 21 – the same age as me and you, and clearly more mature than you.”

You appreciated what Ryujin was trying to do, even if you suspected it was only because she was trying to soothe her own guilt. Your best friend and roommate of the past three years was leaving you high and dry with only a month to find a new roommate before the school year started. 

Ryujin and you were randomly assigned roommates your freshman year at University and immediately hit it off. You both grew up together and Ryujin was there on an athletic scholarship, while you chose to stay close to home after you finally convinced your mother to go to rehab. You lived together your sophomore and junior years too, but Ryujin decided to move off-campus to live with her boyfriend for their senior year. You couldn’t really be too mad about it – you were happy that your best friend was happy and in love. But still, it kind of sucked. The last thing you wanted was to be stuck in a dorm with a stranger for your senior year, but the rest of your friends had already made their living arrangements months ago.

“I don’t know, Ryujin. I don’t even know Y/n. We have only met a few times.”

You shot Ryujin a look that silently requested she wrap up the conversation. If Hyunjin didn’t want you as a roommate, you weren’t going to beg the guy. 

“As opposed to the rando from Craigslist that you’re going to end up living with when Jisung moves out? At least you know Y/n is normal and not some psycho or sociopath.”

You glared at Ryujin again, who simply shrugged. High bar, then. But still – she wasn’t wrong. Hyunjin’s roommate and best friend was moving in with his teammate and leaving Hyunjin in a similar situation. On both ends, there would at least be the knowledge that your new roommate wasn’t terrible. Ryujin could vouch for both of you. Besides, it’s not like you had to be best friends – you really just had to be civil with one another. 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Hyunjin sighed. “Fine, have her come over at some point this weekend and check the place out.”

~

You felt nervous as you knocked on the door to Hyunjin’s apartment. You didn’t know much about him, besides what you have learned from Ryujin. Hyunjin was your age. Hyunjin was an art student, and that piqued your interest in him because you loved art. If you asked Ryujin, Hyunjin was pretty much the best person in the world, although you weren't sure your best friend would ever admit that to him. So you figured that either Hyunjin was pretty cool or Ryujin was incredibly biased. It was probably a bit of both.

The door swung open to reveal Hyunjin standing in jeans and a t-shirt, feet bare and wearing – what you didn't expect he would ever wear, or even have – a pink headband. The headband was a cute touch, but the guy was also undeniably hot. Your brain was having a hard time reconciling those two things.

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted you. “Is Ryu–”

“Last minute thing with Chan,” you told him, offering a good-natured eye roll. Ryujin was supposed to come with you, but maybe this was for the best. If they were going to be roommates, they would need to be able to stand in the same room alone.

Hyunjin laughed. “Sounds about right these days. Come on in,” he told you, stepping aside.

The minute that you stepped into the apartment, you were pleasantly surprised. Ryujin had already assured you that Hyunjin was a lot cleaner than most guys – a neat freak even – which clearly wasn’t an exaggeration. Everything was spotless and tidy. But you were mostly pleasantly surprised by how much you liked the actual apartment (and eyeing what you assumed to be a three litre water bottle). It had high ceilings, bright white walls, and hardwood floors – although they were old and scratched. One entire wall of the living room was exposed brick with an enormous window that let in ample sunlight. As an artist, you certainly appreciated good lighting. 

“This is nice,” you said, walking towards the kitchen. It was an open floor plan with an island, which made sense. The building itself seemed to be a renovated old warehouse, given its outside appearance and the style of the large window in the living room. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, just a couple of years,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. 

He had pretty long hair, so different from what you were used to seeing. It wasn’t the first time you were meeting Hyunjin, but the other times were mostly in passing and you never had a chance to really look at him.

“Oh, um,” he added, walking down the hallway to the right. “This would be your bedroom here,” he told you, opening the door to one of the bedrooms. 

You walked in behind him, taking it in. It was nothing special, just an empty room that had the same floors and wall paint as the living room, but it was certainly nicer than a dorm room. There were a couple boxes on the floor, but it seemed that his roommate had already moved out. You appreciated the light shining through the two windows on one of the walls. As much as you were going to miss living with Ryujin, you could also admit it would be nice to have your own space again for the first time since high school. 

“So, how much would the rent be? Plus utilities and all that?”

“It usually comes out to about $900 each, maybe a little less when the air conditioning isn’t running in the winter.”

You nod. It was actually cheaper than living in the dorms, which wasn’t surprising. You always knew the university robbed you when it came to student housing. Of course, you would be a little further from campus, but you were fine with taking the bus or driving. 

“And there’s only one bathroom, I hope that’s cool.”

Given how clean the rest of the apartment was, you didn’t think that would be an issue. You were used to sharing a bathroom with more than one person. If anything, you were a little worried you would have to make sure you weren’t the messy one in this place. 

“That all sounds great,” you told him. “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind me as a roommate I’d love to take you up on it, but listen, I know Ryujin was pushy about this. So I won’t be insulted at all if you want to go with someone else.”

Hyunjin chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the open doorway of the bedroom. “That she is, but as she pointed out, I think we’re both a more safe option for each other than strangers. I’m more than okay with this if you are.”

You smiled at him, trying not to let your gaze linger on the way his biceps flexed when he crossed his arms. 

Oh no, you warned yourself. We are not going there. We are absolutely not developing a crush on your new roommate. Absolutely not.

“Well, I guess that makes us roommates then.”

~

The first summer with Hyunjin was a little awkward. You were both cordial and polite, but it also felt like you were walking on eggshells around each other. It made sense, of course – you didn’t really know each other. You had also assumed Ryujin would come by more often, just to hang out with both of you and break some of the ice, but she continued spending most of her time with Chan throughout the summer. 

It was mid-August when Hyunjin came home from work, only four days into the new school year. He found you watching Schitt’s Creek on Netflix. Usually Hyunjin cooked dinner and ate it at the kitchen island or went straight to his room. You weren't sure why that night was different, but he came home and lingered in the living room, eyes on the screen. 

“What are you watching?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Oh, just Schitt’s Creek. It’s supposed to be funny. I just started, but it’s pretty good so far.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a beat before he asked if you minded if he joined you. 

“Of course not. I can restart it.”

“Oh you don’t need to–”

“It’s okay,” you laughed. “I was only fifteen minutes into it.”

That’s how it started between the two of you. With a single episode of Schitt’s Creek. After that, you started watching at least an episode together nearly every night. Then when you finished Schitt’s Creek, you started watching Lucifer. Over the next four years of living together, watching new shows together became your thing. It was how you went from cohabitating strangers to friends to best friends. 

Of course, it was more than television. It was the conversations that happened after the credits rolled. It was both your friend groups slowly becoming one. It was late-night mac and cheese when you both got back from the bars. It was you being there for Hyunjin when he lost his pet a year after you graduated and it was Hyunjin being there for you when your mother relapsed a year after that. It was easy like that between the two of you, an effortless falling together and becoming each other's support. There were countless moments, both big and small, that led to what you currently are… which you aren't really sure there’s a word for. All you know is that Hyunjin is your person, and you're Hyunjin’s. 

***

You don't know what time it is when you wake up. You blink your eyes open, your brain having convinced you that this is all just a nightmare. A bad nightmare which will wash away like any other, and you will be okay. You wait for the relief of reality to wash over you, but it doesn’t. Not this time. You still can’t see anything. The only thing you can deduce is that it’s night because it’s darker than it was earlier.

It makes you feel like you're being crushed, like you have been cut off from the entire world. As if you are in a cage and no amount of determination, strength, or skill, will bust the cage open. Even more than when you first woke up, when you were still dazed and exhausted, the panic rose in you like a tidal wave. You can feel your body trembling as you keep blinking your eyes, as if your sight will suddenly reappear if you do it enough. A sob escapes your throat – an ugly and violent one.

You can't see. In spite of your efforts, you can't see anything clearly. It's a blur of darkness, a betrayal of something unfair.

Then you hear it. Again. And as much as it's an assurance, it's also a check to the reality of the hour.

“Y/n?”

Hyunjin’s voice in the darkness feels like a buoy in a storm. You reach for him, hand shaking terribly, and immediately feel his own hands wrap around yours. 

“I’m here, Y/n.”

You try to respond, try to find the appropriate words, you want to ask him and hear him talk back, but there is no language for this type of grief. You realise how embarrassingly unfortunate it is that language is so inadequate right now. Instead, you let the sobs wrack through your body, even though it only hurts your aching body more. And that's all you can manage.

***

Hyunjin nervously shifts on his feet, crossing and uncrossing his arms as he waits for Ryujin in the hospital waiting room. He notices her the minute she walks in because of the frantic way she rushes towards him, Chan on her heels. She doesn’t say anything before she wraps Hyunjin in a tight hug, as if it’s him who was in the accident and lost his sight. He feels sick at the reminder. 

“How is she?” Ryujin asks as soon as she pulls away. You woke up two days ago but haven't been up for visitors until today – and by visitors, he only means Ryujin. The rest of your friends are eager to visit, but you made it clear that you aren’t up to seeing anyone else. At least not yet.

“I mean – I don't know. The same, I guess,” Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his messy curls. “Her injuries are healing – the doctors are confident she will recover in that sense – but… Ryujin. Her sight – it’s – I don’t think – I don't think–” Hyunjin’s voice cracks and he stops trying to speak when Ryujin takes his hand and squeezes it. 

“I know, Jinnie,” Ryujin says, her voice impossibly gentle. “I know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath and pulls his hand away, trying to keep it together. He’s been trying to keep it together for four days now. He has to. You are depending on him and the last thing you need to worry about in all of this is how he’s feeling. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Hyunjin says. He nods at Chan, who sits down in a waiting room chair as Hyunjin leads Ryujin to your room.

When they arrive at the room, the door is open and your mother is sitting in a chair next to your bed. Hyunjin softly knocks on the door and both your mother and you look up at them, your eyes unfocused as you look in their direction. He swallows thickly, something constricting his heart in his chest, and he is glad when Ryujin talks before he has to. 

Ryujin speaks more gently than he’s used to as she walks over to you and greets you, pulling a chair up to the other side of the bed. Hyunjin steps out of the room, leaning against the hallway wall next to the door and giving them a chance to catch up. Your mother must have the same idea, because she walks out of the room a moment later. She gives Hyunjin a sad, sympathetic smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“I’m going to grab a coffee. Do you want any?”

“I’m okay,” Hyunjin answers, shaking his head. “But thank you,” he quickly adds. 

Your mother only nods before walking away and Hyunjin’s eyes track her all the way down the hallway before she disappears around the corner.

You haven't said anything, but Hyunjin knows you like the back of his hand and is sure you're already worrying about whether this will trigger a relapse for your mother. Hyunjin hopes to God she’ll keep it together, because he can’t watch you suffer through that on top of everything else. He can't let anyone else's feelings or fears cause you any other discomfort.

Hyunjin’s head drops back against the wall and he rubs his hands over his face. He’s exhausted from sleepless nights at the hospital and worrying about you. Of course, he doesn’t think that he would sleep any better back at your place together. Every time he closes his eyes, memories of the night of the accident nearly sends him into a panic all over again.

Hyunjin clearly remembers that he was grading his juniors' final projects in their living room, looking forward to the start of summer. He usually worked a few odd jobs throughout the summer, but was never as busy as he was throughout the school year, and volunteered to help with the assessment to learn a few things extra about fine arts. In fact, he promised himself that this summer would be the summer he threw himself back into dating for the first time in years. 

He recently turned 25 and it served as a reminder that he was going to spend the rest of his life pathetically pining over his best friend if he didn’t do something about it. By doing something, he meant getting over you. Telling you about his feelings wasn’t an option. You had never given any signs that you might reciprocate his feelings and unlike him, had dated a few people over the years and frequently took people home from the bars. No – moving on from you was his only option, a necessary move he had to make, but he knew it would be easier said than done.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table and Hyunjin smiled when he saw that it was you calling. You rented a studio space with a few other artists and had been spending a lot of late nights there over the last few months working on a piece that you’d put your blood, sweat, and tears into – your words, not his. There were times the two of you would sit together with a cup of coffee each, painting and criticising each other's work. These, of course, were nights after your day job at the Seoul Arts Museum. But Hyunjin, nor anyone else, could ever convince you to slow down. You were probably calling now to see if he wanted whatever food you were picking up for dinner on the way home – even though it was past 9 p.m. 

“Hey,” he answered. “Did you–”

Hyunjin was cut off by you excitedly telling him that you finally finished the piece and gushing over it. He didn’t mind being interrupted and couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. For him, there was nothing better than listening to you talk about something you were both passionate about, which was usually art. You were mid-sentence – no, maybe even mid-word – when your voice was cut off by the sound of a horn. His heart dropped into his stomach when it was followed by the worst noises he had ever heard. Gravel grinding. Glass shattering. Metal scraping metal. Your scream of his name. And then terrible silence.

Things were a blur after that. Hyunjin called your name over the line as he grabbed his keys, but the line was cut on your end by the time he got into the car. His heart pounded as he drove the route from your shared apartment to your studio, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel as his eyes scanned the road. He didn’t need to look hard. He could see the flashing blue and red lights long before he arrived at a four way intersection minutes from the studio you worked at. The police and ambulance must have arrived only minutes before Hyunjin, because the scene was still in complete chaos when he illegally parked down the street and ran towards the wreck on foot. 

Hyunjin was desperately calling your name when he reached the smashed up cars, but his own voice sounded strange and bent, like he was hearing it from underwater. 

“Sir–”

A police officer put a hand on Hyunjin’s chest when he reached them, gently pushing him back as others taped off the area and directed the other cars in the area away from the scene. 

“I can’t–” Hyunjin gasped, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. He called for you again before turning to the officer, who wasn’t budging. “That’s my, my–”

“You know one of the drivers?”

Hyunjin forced himself to swallow, to make his words make sense. “The silver car,” he said, pointing at it as tears welled in his eyes. The entire driver's side had been smashed in. “She – she – she’s my–,” he stuttered, unable to find an appropriate word, blinking rapidly. “Her name is Y/n. Is she okay?”

As if on cue, Hyunjin watched as the medics rushed the car. “That’s – that’s–” He tried to free himself from the officer and move around him towards you, but the officer stopped him again. 

“You don’t want to get in the way of the medics,” he told Hyunjin, although his voice was gentler now. 

Despite the distance between them, Hyunjin had a clear view of you as they pulled you from the car. Your face was scratched, your forehead smeared with blood. You were unconscious. Unconscious or– no. No, you had to only be unconscious. You would be fine. You were Y/n after all.

“Is she alive?” he asked the officer. “I have to – I have to–”

The officer called the name of a medic. He didn’t clarify what he wanted to know but the medic must have understood because he called back that you had a pulse, but a head injury and possible internal bleeding. 

“I need to be with her,” Hyunjin said, trying yet again to push the officer aside as a few tears escaped his eyes. 

“You need to go to Seoul General, and meet them there,” the officer told him. “They are going to need medics in the ambulance with her.” Quieter, he added, “I promise they are doing everything they can. You need to let them and the doctors do their jobs.”

Hyunjin choked on a sob, slumping as he watched them load your stretcher into the ambulance. He barely remembered what happened after that. He thinks the officer said something, and somehow, he found himself running back to his car. His hands were threaded tight in his curls as he tried to take deep breaths. Somehow, he kept it together enough to make it to the hospital. 

***

You stop keeping track of the days in the hospital. It’s hard to care how many days pass when you aren’t sure you even want to face whatever is to come next. If you were only injured, you’d be eager and determined to get better again. But there is no getting better. Not for you. Not when you can't make out anything but blurry shadows. That alone drains the fight from you. You wonder if it would have been better if you couldn't see at all. Because in the end, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. For you, there is no light at all. 

Your mother comes to visit every day and it’s the only time that Hyunjin leaves, presumably to go home and shower before coming back a few hours later. Since it’s his summer vacation, he doesn’t have a job he needs to compulsorily be at.

Hyunjin tries his best to distract you. Ordinarily, you would watch television or movies together. That’s your thing – or was your thing. Now, you mostly just talk. Hyunjin keeps you up-to-date on everything with your friends or whatever’s happening in the news. Sometimes you listen to audiobooks, but you find it difficult to focus on them and they usually end up giving you a headache if you listen too long. 

Hyunjin also continues staying every night and you don't tell him to go home, even though you should. The thought of being alone in the dark is too much for you to bear. On the third or fourth night, the nurses start bringing him a cot to sleep on, so you feel a little better about him staying. But only a little. The fear is stronger than the guilt, but the guilt is still there. 

You request that the rest of your friends not visit, even though you know via Hyunjin that they all want to. Besides Ryujin, you really can’t handle sitting through multiple versions of people telling you that everything will be okay even though it won’t be, or bringing you flowers you can’t see or cards you can’t read. It’s why you were okay with Ryujin coming. It’s partly because you're closest with Ryujin – after Hyunjin, of course. But it’s also because you knew that Ryujin wouldn’t sugarcoat the situation with false reassurances. She knows you well enough to know that it isn’t what you need. 

Throughout your time at the hospital, top specialist doctors come to assess you. You have no doubt that your mother pulled strings to get them here, but for once, you are okay with your mother pulling strings. But after the third doctor has no good news to offer, you tell your mom that you don’t want to see any more. The hope and the subsequent letdown are too much to handle. For once, your mother doesn't push you on it. 

Weeks pass as your body heals enough that the doctors deem it safe for you to return home. Your bruises yellow and your scars begin to heal – at least the ones people can see. Your wrist is still in a cast and your ribs are still sore, but walking hurts less with every day. It’s time to go home, but that brings you little solace. 

“Y/n, sweetheart,” your mother starts. “Josh and I want you to come stay with us.”

“No.” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through the room like a blade, surprising you. More than ever, you wish you could see what he must look like when his voice is so firm. “You should come home, not somewhere else.”

“Hyunjin–” your mother starts, but you cut her off.

“That isn’t fair to you,” you tell him, voice gentle. You suppose he will have to find a new roommate, but you can cover your half of the rent until he does. “This isn’t what you signed up for when you agreed to be my roommate,” you tell him, forcing a laugh. You think it might break some of the tension, but neither Hyunjin nor your mother laugh. 

“Maybe not four years ago, but if you haven’t noticed, you’re more than a roommate to me, Y/n,” Hyunjin answers. Your heart pounds at the fierceness of his words, unsure of how to interpret them. Until Hyunjin quickly adds, “You’re my best friend.”

“She’s going to need full time care right now,” your mother points out. 

“I know,” Hyunjin says. “And I’ll be there.”

“Hyunjin…” you trail off, unsure of what to say. None of this is fair to him, no matter what he says. More than that, you don't want to be a burden to him. Hyunjin and you always took care of each other – he shouldn’t have to spend all of his time taking care of you now.

“It makes more sense for Y/n to return to the apartment – to the home that you already know,” Hyunjin argues. He knows you too well and is going for the logical argument because of it. “It’s already going to be a huge adjustment, so you should be in a place that you already know well.”

You can’t deny that’s true. You have never lived at the house that Josh and your mother now live in. At least at your own apartment, there would be familiarity. You are your mother’s daughter, which is evident in your mother's silence now.

“That’s true,” your mother agrees, a beat later. “And Josh and I can come by the apartment as much as you need, but you should be somewhere familiar.”

You don't say anything, but you feel Hyunjin take your hand in his. You have grown a little too comfortable with your hand in Hyunjin’s after the last few weeks. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. He’s not quite hiding his words from your mother, but they are clearly meant for you and you alone.

“You would do the same if it were me,” Hyunjin points out. “You would insist on it. It isn’t fair of you to expect differently from me. So come home with me. You should come home.”

You take a deep breath before you squeeze Hyunjin’s hand. “Okay.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath of his own. “Okay.”

***

Coming home makes everything worse.

When you were at the hospital, you could pretend that being blind was a strange interlude that might still change – that you might still magically heal. Returning to your home, to the place you live and have looked at everyday for the last four years, is a brutal reminder that there is no interlude. This is your life now. 

You walk with your arm looped through Hyunjin’s down the hallway to your apartment door, your mother and Josh on your heels. Your mother is rattling off resources and exercises you need to keep up with outside of your physical therapy appointments, about buying a white cane, about learning braille, about a hundred things that you can’t currently cope with. You stopped listening at some point in the car.

Hyunjin unlocks the door and guides you into the apartment. It’s irrational, but for some reason, you expected to somehow sense your surroundings better at their apartment, but you feel just as lost as you did in the hospital. Innate frustration boils over in you and your chest feels tight. 

“Y/n?”

You don’t realize you are crying until Hyunjin is wiping hot tears from your cheeks with his fingers. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What’s wrong?” you echo, feeling yourself growing hysterical. “What’s wrong is that I can’t see a fucking thing properly,” you say, voice cracking. “I’m – I’m–” 

You feel Hyunjin’s arms wrap around you, holding you close to him. You haven’t sobbed like this since the first night after you woke up, but the floodgates burst open again. Burying your face in Hyunjin’s shoulder, you inhale his familiar scent and let yourself fall apart in his arms. You feel a hand on your back that you know is your mother’s touch and eventually you calm down enough for them to guide you to the sofa. 

Everyone else sits down and starts talking about your recovery, about the things they need to do. You don't listen and wonder if they can tell. While they talk, you make a list of everything you are losing instead. Everything you took for granted your entire life, that you never gave a second thought to. Some of the things are frivolous, but you grieve them all the same. 

Shopping for new clothing. The sunset. Television and movies. Reading. Doing your makeup. Then of course, your entire life passion – art. Everything you worked for, everything you loved. You can’t fathom that the night you finished the piece you put months of work into will be the only time you will ever be able to see it. It might as well only exist in your memory now. You can’t fathom that it was your last piece and you didn’t even know it. Yet, even that isn’t what truly breaks you. 

It’s when you think of Hyunjin that you feel like your heart shatters in your chest. His unruly hair in the mornings and the way he runs a hand through it when he’s nervous. The moles that sprinkle his face and neck. The way his dark brown eyes dance with amusement when he teases you about something. The way that you could look into those eyes across a crowded room and feel as if it was only the two of you left in the world. The way that you could meet his gaze and without a word, somehow be able to communicate with him. All of it gone, just like that. All these things exist only in your memory now. 

“Y/n?” 

You turn in the direction of your mother’s voice. “Yeah?”

“Did you hear what we said?”

“No,” you answer honestly. You feel numb, now that you have exhausted your tears. 

“You have your first physical therapy appointment in two days, and Hyunjin said he will take you.”

“Okay,” you answer. You should fight him on that, have your mother take you so that he gets a break from taking care of you. But you simply don’t have the energy to fight with a stubborn Hyunjin right now.

Your mother kisses you on the cheek before they leave, afraid to hug you too tightly because of your ribs. Once she and Josh leave, you are left sitting in the quiet apartment with Hyunjin. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks. It sounds like he’s still standing near the front door. 

“No,” you answer. You run a hand over the space next to you on the couch until you find the pillow resting against the arm of the couch and gently lay down. Your sore ribs make you grit your teeth as you do. You hear Hyunjin walk towards you and a moment later, you feel a blanket fall over your body. Taking the material in your hand, you rub it between your fingers. It’s soft, but worn. You have had this blanket since you moved in and the familiarity of its texture is a small, warm comfort. 

“Y/n?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him. The only thing worse than all of this is Hyunjin suffering too. 

“You’re not,” he answers. “And that’s fine. Because you will be, okay? We’re going to get through this together. I promise.”

“Together,” you mindlessly echo. 

“Together,” he emphasises. 

You feel him brush your hair out of your face before you close your eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day pull you under.

***

It’s early evening when you wake from your nap. Hyunjin orders take out and the two of you make a list of things you need to do. One of the first things you do is mess with the settings on your phone so that the commands are voice activated. You barely even use Siri and know this will be a frustrating adjustment as much as everything else. 

“Okay, try it now,” Hyunjin says. 

You can still smell the pizza where Hyunjin set it down on the coffee table before sitting down next to you. You feel hyper aware of him every time he brushes against you when either of you shift on the couch.

When you successfully ask Siri the location of the museum and hear the correct response, you feel a little better about the small accomplishment. 

“Thank you,” you tell Hyunjin, your voice meek. 

“Of course.”

“No, I mean… for everything until now.”

Hyunjin is quiet beside you for a minute and that innate frustration comes back to you. You can read Hyunjin so well by the look on his face and it feels like a crucial part of your communication, your relationship, has simply vanished. 

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, Y/n,” he finally says. “You’re my best friend, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

Your heart both flutters and sinks at the term best friend. You are proud to hold that title, love when he says it, but can’t help but wish that you were something more too. 

“Are you tired?” he asks when you don’t respond.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “What time is it?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer and instead places your phone back in your hand. You feel a sense of gratefulness wash over you that it’s Hyunjin by your side during this. Not just because of how much you love him, but because of how much you trust him to help you through this instead of simply trying to take care of everything for you. It’s a small gesture, but it helps you realize that Hyunjin still thinks that you are strong, that you are capable. His confidence in you helps permeate some of the helplessness you feel like you are drowning in. 

“State time,” you say to the phone. 

The phone tells you that it’s 8:48 p.m. and you exhale a sigh of relief. If you managed to get that simple task wrong, you think you might lose it.

Hyunjin begins cleaning up dinner from the coffee table and you stand, leaning down to run your hand along the coffee table so that you don’t run into it. 

“Is it better if we get rid of that?” he asks. It sounds like he’s near the kitchen now.

“No,” you answer. “I know where everything is in the apartment, I just have to get used to it spatially I think.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin says. He sounds closer this time and you realise that he’s trailing behind you as you walk towards your bedroom, hand trailing against the wall as you do. 

“I cleaned your room up, by the way,” Hyunjin says. “I didn’t move anything so everything is where you keep it, I just wanted to make sure the floor and everything was clear.”

You huff a laugh as you push open the door to your room. “I guess we finally found a way to cure my messiness,” you joke, a wry smile itching the corners of your lips.

Hyunjin forces a laugh that you can tell isn’t genuine. You wonder if someday you will be able to truly laugh about any of this without the heaviness of grief tainting every word. 

You feel along the wall and switch on the lights. The lights help and you can see the shadows of objects that you know are your bed and your dresser. Hyunjin clears his throat as you walk towards the dresser and you wonder if he does it purposely, to let you know he’s still standing by the door. You feel along the drawers, opening the second one and running your hand over the t-shirts. You aren’t sure which one you choose but they’re all sleep t-shirts so you guess it doesn’t matter. Then you pull out a pair of sleep shorts, which you can tell by the thin cotton material is a blue and white striped pair. It’s only when you are holding them both in one hand and pushing in the drawer with the same good hand that you realise you don’t know how you are going to manage to change into them. The cast on one of your wrists is a pain in the ass and it hurts to lift your arms due to your bruised ribs. 

“Hyunjin?” you ask, feeling a strange sense of panic at the thought of him having left. 

“Yeah?” he immediately answers. 

“I know this is weird, but… can you help?” you force yourself to ask. You can feel your cheeks burning and know that Hyunjin's might be a deep pink.

“It’s not weird,” Hyunjin lies. He’s just trying to make you feel better. “I don’t mind.”

You listen to him walk closer before he takes your pajamas from your hands. He clears his throat, both of you hesitating for a beat. 

“Shirt first,” you prompt. “I, er… it’s hard to lift my arms.”

“Yeah of course,” he quickly answers. 

You can sense him close to you, can feel the heat of his body and smell his familiar scent. It’s a scent you never really gave a lot of thought to before now – pine from his soap, and something else you have no name for. Your heart pounds against your will as you lift your arms to shoulder height, wincing as you do. You feel Hyunjin take hold of the bottom of your t-shirt, gently lifting it to expose your stomach and chest. You are wearing a loose cotton bralette that your mother brought to the hospital along your second day. Wearing almost nothing, given how vulnerable your situation makes you feel, you take a deep breath in to calm yourself. Neither of you speak as Hyunjin guides each arm out of the sleeves of the t-shirt one at a time, the only sounds in the room are your somewhat laboured breaths and the sound of cloth rubbing against skin. A chill runs up your spine after he pulls the t-shirt over your head and you’re left in the bralette and leggings in front of him. 

“Do you – you want to keep that on?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you quickly answer, even though you never sleep with any kind of bra on. But you certainly aren’t making this even more awkward than it already is. Hyunjin exhales loudly and you think it’s probably from relief. He helps you into your sleep t-shirt next, which is easier given that it’s about two sizes too big on you. 

“Umm, how…” he trails off.

“Oh,” you answer. “I think I’ve got the shorts.”

Hyunjin exhales another deep breath. “Alright, I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

You wait until you hear the click of your door closing before slowly and gently pulling down your leggings. You kick them off and normally you would simply kick them to the side, left on your floor, but you guess you can’t do that anymore. Everything is a hazard to you now. Given the state of your ribs and how hard it is to bend down, you will have to have Hyunjin pick them up this time. Because of your injuries and only having one good hand, getting into your shorts proves to be more difficult than you expected. It takes you ten minutes to manage it and you half expect Hyunjin to knock on the door and ask if you are okay, but he’s endlessly patient and never does. Once they are on, you carefully make your way to the door. You feel along the edge of it until your hand lands on the doorknob and you pull it open.

“Hyunjin?”

“I’m right here,” he immediately answers, his voice only a foot away from you. 

“I just need to brush my teeth and use the bathroom,” you tell him.

“Do you need help?”

“I don’t think so,” you answer, feeling along the wall again as you walk further down the hallway to the bathroom. “Is everything where it usually is?”

“Yeah. I cleaned things off the counter, but the tooth brushes are where they always are and the toothpaste is on the counter next to it.”

“Okay.”

You reach the door, feeling along the wall for the light switch. Once you flip it on, you walk in and shut the door behind you, knowing that Hyunjin will be waiting for you outside. Ordinarily, the hovering would drive you nuts. It did when you got the flu last year and it did when you sprained your ankle the year before that. This feels different though. This feels a hundred times more vulnerable and terrifying, and you can’t find it in you to be anything but grateful for Hyunjin's constant presence.

You take longer than usual to brush your teeth and use the bathroom, but you find yourself proud when you manage it. Yet, as soon as you feel pride, shamefulness replaces it. Is this all you have now? Achievements in the form of everyday tasks that no one else thinks twice about? It’s that thought that drives you to open the mirror cabinet. 

You always used a night cream and there’s no reason you should abandon your skin routine now. You are careful and determined as you run your finger along the items on the second shelf. You thought it would be easier to tell which was the night cream and were surprised at how similar the containers feel when there aren’t colors and labels to differentiate them. Huffing in frustration, you pick up what you think is the night cream and pull it out. Before you even open it, you can tell it’s the container of vaseline Hyunjin uses more than you, and you put it back on the shelf. The next one you pick up and are certain that it’s your night cream. Your suspicions are confirmed when you twist the top off and inhale the familiar sandalwood and calendula scent. 

You feel proud as you carefully set down the container on the top of the counter, holding the container in your good hand. You bring your other one up to your forehead, feeling across the scar that begins on your hairline above the edge of your eyebrow and continues down to your temple. They already took the stitches out, but the skin feels rough and bumpy under your fingers. You need to remember to ask Hyunjin how bad it looks. 

Scooping a small amount of the cream with your finger on your casted arm, you go to set the container down on the counter. Instead, you set it down too close to the edge of the sink and hear the clatter of it falling in. 

“Fuck,” you curse, the cream still on your one finger.

“Y/n, you okay?” Hyunjin calls from the other side of the door. 

You ignore him, feeling around the sink with your good hand for the container only to discover that half of the night cream has been dumped into the sink. Your fingers land in some of the cream as you reach around for the container. Hot tears fill your eyes as frustration bubbles up in your chest and throat. 

“Fuck,” you curse again, your voice cracking this time. 

“Y/n?”

“I’m fine,” you quickly call, well aware that he will be able to tell by the way your voice wavers that you aren’t. “I just spilled something.”

“Can I come in?”

You huff in frustration, feeling the tears spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. “Fine.”

You can hear the door open before Hyunjin takes a few steps to meet you at the sink.

“I just – I just have to clean it up,” you tell him, no longer able to hide your tears.  

You have never been a crier. In fact, you think you have cried more in front of Hyunjin since the accident than you have in the entire time that you have known him. Thinking of that makes you cry even harder, the embarrassment only bringing fresh tears to your eyes. You can’t even wipe them away because your fingers on both hands are covered in the damn night cream.

“Hey, hey,” Hyunjin soothes, wiping off your fingers with a washcloth. “It’s no big deal, we’ll clean it up.”

You choke on a sob, wiping at your cheeks with your good hand now that you can. “It is a big deal, because I can’t do anything by myself. I’m helpless, and useless, and–”

“Hey,” Hyunjin cuts you off, his hands holding your face. The gesture makes you pause and you sniffle. “You are not helpless. This is going to be an adjustment and it’ll take time, but it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. This is just day one. We take this one day at a time and every day it’s going to get a little bit easier. Okay?”

You turn your head, looking down and prompting Hyunjin to drop your face. You want to believe him, but it feels enormous and impossible. 

“I promise,” he adds. Hyunjin never lies to you and you try to convince yourself that this is no exception. 

“Okay,” you finally answer. 

You stand next to him, unsure of what else to do as he cleans up the sink. “We’ll start putting braille labels on everything,” he adds. 

“The problem wasn’t me grabbing the wrong thing,” you argue, unable to mask your frustration. “Besides, I don’t even know any braille,” you point out.

“It’ll be a good way to start learning,” he says. “With everyday items around the apartment.”

You take a deep breath. You don't have the energy to argue with him about it. A few minutes later, you hear him turn the faucet on, presumably to rinse the sink. After he turns it off, he’s quiet for a beat.

“Did you – do you still want to put this on?”

“No,” you answer immediately. “I just want to go to bed.”

Hyunjin doesn’t argue and you hear the mirror cabinet open and click close again. 

You make your way back to your bedroom, listening to the creak of the hardwood floor as Hyunjin undoubtedly follows on your heels. You turn on the light and slowly make your way to your bed, your hand running over the top comforter. Your bed is actually made, which is a rarity. Another thing Hyunjin must have done while cleaning up your room. You pull down the blankets and climb into bed, your ribs still aching with each small movement. There’s also no way to get in a comfortable position with the cast on your arm.

“Do you need anything?” Hyunjin asks. It sounds like he’s still hovering at the doorway.

“No,” you answer. But before he can respond, you change your mind. “Hyunjin, wait. Will you sleep in here?” you blurt, before you can stop yourself. 

You have gotten too used to Hyunjin sleeping beside you and when faced with spending the night completely alone in the dark, your heart begins racing with fear. Even so, you know you’re crossing a line. Hyunjin is already doing so much and this is hardly fair to him. You don’t have the chance to take it back before he answers you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he tells you. 

“Sorry, I–”

“I don’t mind at all,” he assures you, voice quiet. “I’ve just got to change and brush my teeth, I’ll be back in a few.”

“Okay,” you answer. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and willing yourself to relax. When you hear Hyunjin return, you open your eyes just as he hits the lights, the shadows darkening. He doesn’t say anything as you feel the bed dip under his weight next to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologise again. You don't take back your request though.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs. 

You shift even closer to him, not touching him but close enough to feel the heat of his body, to hear the sound of his breathing. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, even though you already know the answer. You know there are few things in the world that Hyunjin would deny you right now. You never want to take advantage of that, but you’re more afraid of waking up alone than taking advantage of anyone right now. 

“Of course,” he answers. His voice sounds rough in a way you don’t understand. You don’t have the time to contemplate it before your eyes grow heavy and you fall into a deep sleep.

***

The next few weeks are slow and hard. It reminds you of trying to get back in shape after not having worked out in a long time. Your job granted you indefinite sick leave, which you suspect has more to do with not wanting to get sued over disability accommodations than the kindness of their hearts, but you can’t say you aren’t relieved. You know you're lucky in that sense. It’s also a relief because you can’t imagine returning to work right now. Not when everyday tasks now exhaust you more than your job ever did. 

But of course, as always, Hyunjin is there to make things bearable. The very first thing he does is start labeling everything in the apartment in braille. Apparently there’s a teacher at work who’s helping him make the labels, and over the first week home, the labels slowly appear on nearly every item in the apartment. They don’t mean much to you now, but you start spending some time in the mornings learning braille with the help of online videos and it turns out Hyunjin was right – applying what you’re learning to simple household items is a good way to remember the lessons. He also reorganises a few things that make it easier for you and puts a railing on the shower for you. 

When your white cane arrives, Hyunjin and you begin taking walks around the neighborhood every evening so that you can practice using it. If you're being honest, you hate the walks. It feels like an even sharper reminder of all the things you can no longer see in the world, all things that are easier to forget about from the safety of your apartment. But you enjoy being able to spend even more time with Hyunjin, who always manages to encourage you without pitying you. He makes it more fun and as time goes on, you try  to focus less on what you can’t see during the walks and more on what you can experience. The things that once existed only in the background are now at the forefront of your universe. The smell of fresh cut grass, the lilac flowers that line a part of the street perpendicular to yours. The sound of the birds chirping, of children playing in front lawns, of cars that pass them by. The feel of Hyunjin’s touch as he guides you over a bump in the sidewalk and the warmth of his arm under the pads of your fingertips when you lean on him for support. 

The cast makes things more difficult, but you count your blessings that it was your working hand instead of your support hand that got injured, and remind yourself that things will be even easier when you finally get it taken off next month. Hyunjin also starts something of a game with you. When you’re hanging out, or in the car on the way to a doctor appointment, or even on one of your walks, he places an item in your hand and has you guess what the item is. At first, you thought it was stupid and went along with it to appease him, but you are starting to see the value in it. You have to communicate with the space around you in a new way and this helps you relearn the textures of the world, making it easier to navigate. Some things are easy, especially the items in your apartment you are already familiar with. Others, to your surprise, aren’t easy. You feel a greater sense of pride when you get those ones right.

Your mother continues to stop by often and Josh assures you that she’s still well, although you can’t help but worry that he won’t tell you if she isn’t. Your friends begin visiting you too, but always only one or two at a time so they don’t overwhelm you. A month after the accident, it’s Ryujin and Chan who tell you the news while at your apartment for dinner. 

You are all seated on the couches around the coffee table, eating the Chinese takeout that Ryujin and Chan picked up on their way over. As always these days, Hyunjin is sitting next to you on the couch, close enough that his arm occasionally brushes you, his warmth an active source of comfort. It sends sparks up your skin every time, which always immediately sours your mood. Your feelings for your best friend are even more tragic than before. Every day that passes, you think you fall a little harder for him, all the while knowing that you can’t ever be together. You’d never subject him to a life tied to you, to the complications and having to constantly care for you. It isn’t fair to him, no matter how much you still want him. Not to mention, he’d have to actually have feelings for you in return, which you are not sure he does.

“Good news?” you question, after Ryujin tells you that they have news.

“We’re not engaged,” Ryujin laughs. “Or pregnant for that matter, before you jump to conclusions.”

You laugh in return. “Okay, so good news about what?”

“About you, actually.”

“Me?” you question. You wouldn’t associate anything having to do with your life under the category of good news at this point.

“About your art – the piece you finished the night of the accident.”

Hyunjin shifts next to you and you wonder if it’s because he’s also uncomfortable thinking about that night. 

“What about it?” you ask, growing wary. 

You had asked Ryujin and Chan to retrieve all your things from the studio for you, in part because Chan also shared the same studio space to work on his music, and Hyunjin worked at another art studio. You had also asked that they get rid of the paintings you finished, but Ryujin refused and told you that she would hold onto it. You didn’t care either way, as long as it wasn’t in your presence. You didn’t need to be able to see the painting to not want it around. It was only a manifestation of shattered dreams now, a reminder of what you wouldn't be able to do, or share with Hyunjin anymore.

“Well, we submitted it to the exhibit that Sanctum is opening in two weeks and they loved it. They–”

“Ryujin,” you warn. 

“Y/n, it’s a stunning piece and the world should be able to see it.”

“That’s great for the world to see, not me anymore,” you snapped, unable to help yourself. You know that Ryujin meant well, it just hurts to be reminded of everything you have lost.

Ryujin says nothing and you wish you could see your friend’s expression, could guess as to what the impact of your words were. 

Hyunjin sighs. “You should have asked her, Ryujin.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Ryujin apologizes. “I just thought that– We’re just proud of you, that’s all.”

You take a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I just – it’s hard, that’s all. It’s hard to be reminded of something I don’t get to experience anymore, something that meant so much to me my entire life.”

You feel Ryujin’s small hand land on your leg in a comforting gesture. “I know, I’m sorry. You can withdraw the piece if you want, of course. It’s your art and it’s up to you, but the opportunity is there if you want it.”

Ryujin and Chan leave soon after they finish dinner and you stay on the couch while Hyunjin cleans up the takeout containers and puts the leftovers into the fridge. You don’t do anything, just sit there and think about your art. It might be foolish to pull the piece from the exhibit given they have already accepted it, but it also feels pointless to display it. 

“Are you okay?”

You look up in the direction of Hyunjin’s voice. It sounds like he’s standing in the kitchen area still. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to hang out or are you tired?”

You sigh. “I don’t know.”

If it were before the accident, you would have already turned on the television. Hyunjin would probably yell at you not to start the show without him and make you rewind if he missed even a minute of it. You miss those nights. They were easy and effortless. Now everytime Hyunjin and you hangout, it’s always to learn some new skill or make some adjustment to your new life. It’s then you realise that you can’t remember the last time you even heard the television on. You are not sure it’s been turned on once since you returned home from the hospital. 

“You know you can watch TV without me, right?” you add. “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t really care about TV,” he replies.

You knit your brow at his flippant response. “You? You don’t care about TV? Since when?”

“It’s just not a big deal, Y/n.”

“Well it’s a big deal to me,” you nearly yell, growing exasperated. “It’s a big deal if it’s yet another thing that you used to enjoy that you feel like you have to give up because of me,” you say, voice cracking. 

Hyunjin exhales something between a laugh and scoff and you realise that he walked closer to you. “You think I cared about watching TV? I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you. That’s all I cared about and all I care about now. I don’t care what we do together.”

You swallow thickly, unsure of what to say to that. Your heart is beating in your ears and you know your cheeks are warm, but you can’t even say with certainty why that is. It feels like a vulnerable admission of sorts, even though it’s not. It’s simply your friend telling you that he likes to hang out with you. 

“Oh,” you answer dumbly, wondering if you could read his expression now would you be able to figure out if it meant otherwise. 

Hyunjin chuckles and you feel the couch dip as he sits down next to you. “We can listen to a podcast or an audiobook. I don’t really care, Y/n. Whatever you want.”

“Well what do you want to do?”

“I don’t–”

“Come on, Hyunjin.”

He pauses. “Let’s do a podcast tonight – but you have to pick the genre.”

“Fine, but you have to pick which show.”

“Fine,” he laughs.

You bite down on a smile, feeling so much lighter than you did only minutes ago. “True crime,” you tell him.

“True crime it is.”

***

You lie awake on your back, listening for the telltale bounds of Hyunjin coming into your room, flipping off the lights and climbing into the bed beside you. You do this every night, just like he sleeps in your bed every night. He has since the night you returned home from the hospital. You never talk about it, even though it’s one of the stranger parts of your routine.

You suspect Hyunjin is waiting for you to tell him that you are okay, that you don’t need him with you anymore. You worry that if he’s waiting for you to say something that he’ll be waiting forever. Maybe there will be a night you wouldn’t need him some day, but you are not sure that there will ever be a night you wouldn’t want him here. You aren’t sure you are a good enough person to make a distinction between the two and cut him loose. 

You don’t make a habit of talking in bed – you imagine that like you, Hyunjin knows that would cross some imaginary line. It would feel too close to pillow talk with a lover, to lay in the dark whispering to each other. But tonight, you can’t turn your mind off. It’s only about ten minutes after Hyunjin climbs into bed that you roll onto your side to face him and quietly say his name.

"Hyunjin?"

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding groggy but still awake. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “I just… what do you think I should do?” you ask. “About my art piece.”

Hyunjin is quiet for a moment and you feel him shift in the bed. “I think it matters what you think you should do,” he answers. 

He sounds clearer and less muffled now, so you guess that he rolled over to face you. You feel a pang of grief at not being able to see him, what he must look like in the shadows, washed in moonlight with his lips a mere foot from yours. 

“I do think...” he adds, when you don’t answer. “I think Ryujin was right about the world deserving to see your work. You’re too talented to hide, Y/n. I know that it feels like that talent is lost, but it’s not. It’s yours, and it’s still inside of you. Like everything else, you’re just going to have to find another venue to express it. You’re still an artist – and you always will be.”

Tears prick your eyes at the sincerity of Hyunjin’s words. How can his faith in you be more blind than anything else?

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmurs. Before you can respond, you feel his thumb stroke across your cheek and swipe away a stray tear. Your breath catches. You feel lightheaded from his touch. 

“You didn’t,” you assure him. “The opposite. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You’ve got it backwards” he replies. 

The words hold a more serious tone than you expected and you swallow thickly, trying to think straight. Your ache for him is a physical pain in your chest. Your fingers move to your cheeks, wiping away the rest of the tears, already half-dried to your face. When you do, your fingers skim the edge of the scar at your temple. 

“How bad does it look?” you ask. “And don’t lie to me to make me feel better,” you add. “I need to be able to trust that someone will always tell me the truth, even if it’s bad.”

Hyunjin hums. “Well in that case, I hate to break it to you, but you rival Freddy Krueger.”

“That’s not funny,” you scold him, your laugh contradicting your words. 

Hyunjin laughs too before taking a breath. You can feel the heat of his exhale on your face. “It’s not too bad,” he starts. “It looked worse before – the skin was more irritated. I think the scar cream helped. The skin is healed and isn’t discolored. You don’t notice it when your hair is down, unless you’re looking for it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Hyunjin’s only response is to gently trail his fingers along the scar. His touch is so tender that you nearly cry again. You don’t understand his reverence for something so jagged and broken. 

“Scars aren’t something to be ashamed of,” he adds, dropping his hand. You wish he didn’t. You wish you could feel his hands on you everywhere and all at once. 

“I know,” you answer,  because, truly, you do. “It’s more so… it’s weird that part of my appearance has changed and that everyone but me will know what I look like with that change. It feels like… like I’m losing a piece of myself that everyone else still gets to keep.”

“Well… I’ll always be here to describe those changes to you. Every future wrinkle and gray hair, in horrifying detail.”

You laugh softly. “Much appreciated.”

“Anytime,” he quips. You feel like somehow, you can hear the smile in his voice. You are both quiet for a minute and you can’t help but wonder if Hyunjin is still staring at you, taking in every detail. It should make you feel uncomfortable, or vulnerable, but you feel warm, loved instead.  

“Goodnight, Hyunjin,” you whisper. 

“Goodnight,” he answers. 

Neither of you roll over and you drift off to sleep, your breaths intermingled as one, your fingers interlaced. 

***

Two days later, you decide that you are going to keep your piece in your local exhibit. Before the accident, it would be a no brainer. Getting a piece admitted in a Sanctum exhibit, the most exclusive art gallery in the city, would be considered your big break. Now, it feels more like an apt way for you to say goodbye.

Your friends are all excited though and insist that you come to the exhibit’s opening night. You reluctantly agree, unable to decide if you are more nervous or excited for it. If anything, you realise this is your first opportunity since the accident to have a real, solid goal – being prepared for that evening. So over the next two weeks, you throw yourself into your walks with Hyunjin and try to become as well-adjusted as possible for that night. 

Three days before the exhibit opening, you get your cast taken off.

“How’s it looking?” you ask Hyunjin, tentatively flexing your hand. 

“Like a little alien arm.”

You burst into a laugh before scolding him to shut up, drawing a laugh from him.  

“No, it looks good,” he tells you, sincere this time. “You know, the usual with casts. The muscle is weakened but that’ll go back to normal.”

You hold Hyunjin’s arm as he walks you through the hospital and to his car. There’s no one you trust more to drive you, but you still find yourself anxious every time you have to get in a car. You might trust Hyunjin, but you don’t trust anyone else on the road. What makes it worse is that you feel like a sitting duck without your sight. You won’t even know when to be afraid of something before it’s too late.

Hyunjin must sense your nerves, because as soon as you hear his car door shut, he asks if you're okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just – you know. I still get anxious.”

You wait to hear the jingle from Hyunjin’s keys and the rev of the engine as he turns the car on, but it doesn’t come.

“You never – you never asked about him.”

You fidget with the edge of your t-shirt. When they started to tell you about the drunk driver who hit you when you were in the hospital, you were still overwhelmed and in pain. You had snapped that you didn’t care, nor did you ask for compensation because you didn't want anything to do with him, and no one had brought him up to you again.

“Because… I’m afraid,” you admit. 

“Afraid?” Hyunjin questions, the confusion clear in his voice. “Afraid of what?”

“I was – I am so angry right now. Even on my good days, I feel so bitter with grief and – and I’m afraid that if you tell me he died, or was hurt worse than me… that I’d be happy about it.”

“Y/n–”

“I know maybe I have a right to feel that way, or whatever, but it still makes me feel like a terrible person. I don’t want to want that.”

Hyunjin is quiet for a beat. “I think the fact that you’re worried about that, pretty much means you’re far from a horrible person, Y/n.”

You turn in his direction, wishing more than anything that you could take comfort in the sincerity of his dark eyes. As if understanding exactly that, Hyunjin takes your hand in his, threading his fingers through yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s an instant comfort, but you don’t know what to think when he starts the car without letting go, when he drives the entire route back to the apartment with your hand in his.

***

“Alright, close your eyes again,” Ryujin instructs. You do as your friend asks and feel the liquid eyeliner swipe across your eyelid. 

“Thank you for doing this,” you say quietly. You’re sitting in your room in front of your vanity as Ryujin does your makeup for you. She already helped you curl your hair into loose waves and you are feeling better than you have in a long time as you get ready for the exhibit opening. 

“Please,” Ryujin huffs. “I’m happy to, you know that.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ryujin interrupts you with a command to open your eyes.

“Okay, close again,” Ryujin says. You obey, and the room is quiet for a beat. 

“I’m going to have to learn how to do this myself eventually, but it’s not exactly at the top of my priorities right now. Not to mention that it feels like one of the hardest things to relearn.”

“Or we can just teach Hyunjin to do your makeup,” she suggests. “We both know he’d be willing to learn.”

You huff a laugh, unable to tell if your friend is being serious or not. “I’m not going to subject Hyunjin to that, especially with everything else he does for me. Besides, I still have to learn to do it on my own, like I’ll eventually have to learn how to do everything on my own. Hyunjin won’t be around forever.”

Ryujin stops moving the eyeliner and you don’t know if it’s because she’s finished or because she’s surprised by your words. “Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?” you question. “And can I open my eyes?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she answers. “And I mean… where exactly do you think Hyunjin is going in the foreseeable future?”

“I mean, eventually he is going to need to go back to his own life and he is going to start dating, and then get married, and have a family. He wants kids. He’s always wanted that.”

There’s a long beat of silence before Ryujin sighs, rather dramatically. “How can you be so dense, Y/n?”

“What?”

Ryujin doesn’t answer, but you hear her moving, followed by the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut. “Dense about Hyunjin,” Ryujin says, once she’s in front of you again. 

“What?” you question again, increasingly confused. “I thought he wanted kids?”

“Oh my God, not about that,” Ryujin groans. “The only person he wants to get married to and have a family with is you, Y/n. I mean – I have never said anything because Chan  always tells me not to get involved, not to meddle,” your friend rambles. “But this is getting out of hand. If you couldn’t tell he loved you before the accident, how can you not tell even now?”

You exhale a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your heart is thumping in your chest, unable to process what Ryujin is saying. 

“But he never – he’s never –”

“He's never what, Y/n? He has never dated anyone or even looked at another woman in literal years?”

You knit your brow, realising that Ryujin is right. His last relationship was with Ailee and only lasted about six months before it ended about two and a half years ago. You didn’t realise it had been that long. It doesn’t feel like years ago – his relationship with Ailee still feels like a recent wound when you think about it now. It was during that time you realised how deeply your own feelings for Hyunjin ran when you couldn’t understand why you felt so sick seeing the two of them emerge from Hyunjin’s room in the mornings. You have had countless flings and one night stands yourself since then, but you have always been able to compartmentalize. You know your best friend well enough to know that he isn’t the same.

“I didn’t know,” you murmur. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, he’d never admit it to me , but I know him. Not better than you but longer than you, enough that I can notice he likes you.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” she questions, seemingly bewildered. “You don’t feel the same? Because it certainly looks that way from where I’m sitting.”

You bite down on your lip. “I’m not going to subject Hyunjin to dealing with – with this for the rest of his life,” you say, voice cracking embarrassingly as you gesture vaguely around you.

"Y/n,” Ryujin gently says, placing her hand on your arm. “You know I don’t sugar coat things and you know how much I love you and Hyunjjn, and I am telling you right now that he would be the lucky one.”

You shake your head. “I just – I can’t deal with any of that right now.”

“I know,” Ryujin answers. “But… maybe someday. There’s no reason to close that door yet is all I’m saying.”

***

You think this might be the first time that you have felt truly happy since you woke up in the hospital, since you lost your sight and your entire life changed. You chose to wear your favourite dove coloured cocktail dress that boasts a generous sweetheart cut and even though you wish you could wear a pair of strappy heels like you used to, you are feeling confident on Hyunjin’s arm as you walk into the gallery together. 

Yet, as soon as you walk in, your nerves reemerge. It’s not necessarily loud, but it’s the most crowded room you have been in since you lost your sight and it's overwhelming. 

“Don’t let me go, okay?” you murmur to Hyunjin, only half-joking. 

“Never,” he promises, not a hint of humor in his voice. Your cheeks flush hot as you remember your earlier conversation with Ryujin. 

Several of your friends are able to make it and they all congratulate you, complimenting you on the piece. Eventually Hyunjin and you grab two glasses of the free red wine that they are serving. You sip on it slowly, not having had any alcohol since the accident. 

“Well… this is a bit uneventful given I can’t see anything,” you joke. 

Hyunjin huffs a laugh. “Come on, let’s go over to your piece,” he says.

Hyunjin leads you through the room and you listen to him mutter a few 'excuse me' to people in your path. He comes to a stop, presumably near your piece. 

“Tell me about it,” he says.

“Tell you about it? About what?”

“You spent hours upon hours on this piece, and it’s stunning, but you’ve never talked about it. Tell me what it means – not all of us are incredibly intelligent and gifted. I need a little help.”

You laugh, ducking your head and squeezing his arm tighter. “It’s not exciting, and it’s kind of depressing.”

“How about we let me be the judge of that.”

“Well…” you start. “It’s kind of about grief. Those blue lines at the center,” you continue, remembering the painting. “It’s kind of the direct line between my father leaving us and my mom’s addiction, but the yellow is about healing. About how people can break and still come back together again, even if it’s in a different shape than before. Different, but still whole again.”

Hyunjin exhales a breath. “You amaze me every single day. You know that, right?”

You think of your conversation with Ryujin again and suddenly your proximity to Hyunjin makes you feel lightheaded. Before you can respond, you hear a woman’s voice somewhere near them.

“Apparently the artist went blind,” she tells someone. “That’s what they said.”

“Poor thing,” her companion tuts. “Such a shame to see talent like that go down the drain.”

Your entire body tenses and you clench your jaw, willing the tears you feel in your throat not to escape down your face. 

“Y/n,” Hyunjin starts. You know from his gentle tone that he heard it too, and you hate that even more. “They’re–”

“I want to go home,” you cut him off, voice sharper than intended. 

“They’re idiots,” Hyunjin says. “They don’t–”

“Hyunjin,” you interrupt him, louder than intended. You wonder if people are staring at you and Hyunjin, and frustration simmers inside you. Frustration at not being able to tell if people are staring, frustration at the fact that you can’t even storm off like you want to because you're dependent on Hyunjin. You are stuck.