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"Choi Seungcheol, ma'am." His voice has a deep timbre to it. It'd be perfect for audiobooks, you muse idly.  "He is to be with you whenever you are going outside till the foreseeable future." Your father states. There isn't much room for arguments here and you aren't too bothered having a shadow because this isn't the first time. 

You had a personal bodyguard six months ago and the man sustained a serious hip injury due to...circumstances involving you. Now that you are back and ready to face the world, you know that keeping a personal bodyguard is a wise decision, even if your father may have assigned him with ulterior motives. 

It's okay, the games are just beginning and you are playing for the long haul.

—

"Met your new guard on the way. Guy's a robot." Chan says as he strolls into the library with his hands in his pockets. You assume he's talking about Seungcheol, who is currently stationed outside the library room even though you told him to take a break.

A copy of Jane Eyre sits open on your lap as you look up to meet Chan's eyes. Offering him a small smile, you motion him to sit next to you. Your younger brother had been out of the country due to business for the past few weeks so it has been a while since you last saw him.

"So you are really going back to work?" He asks, a soft, concerning note to his voice as he sits down next to you on the divan. You sigh and give him an exasperated look. 

"I'm more than ready. Sitting idle hasn't done me much good." You sign. 

His eyes watch the movements of your hands before he murmurs, "It will be tough, you know... without your... voice. I don't want you to get into any trouble, especially after everything."

"I'll manage." You sign. You will. 

It has been six long months since the accident. Six months since you lost your mother. Six months since you have last uttered a word. Six months since you have been at work.

Six months since your life has completely been turned upside down. 

You have been thrown entirely off track, the reigns of your horse being snatched away by a dark force plotting far worse things.  But you will uncover them. No matter how long or what it takes. 

"Dad thinks you're not ready yet," Chan comments, breaking your train of thought. 

You huff out an annoyed breath. 

"I don't really care what he thinks you know," you sign and your brother snorts, looking at you with a fond, amused expression. "It will be hard." He says absent-mindedly. "To adjust back to everything."

You nod because you know it will be. You have already heard the board members express their dissatisfaction over you returning as the CEO. Lee publishing has been in its prime since last year and they're afraid it's gonna lose its position with a mute CEO. Funny how they forget you are the one who brought it to where it is today. Lee Publishings, your family's publishing company was handed over to you by your  grandfather. He started it from scratch and it became the first successful family business before he decided to hand it over to you when you became twenty. 

Your bond with your grandfather was always special, maybe because you both shared the same love for books and sense of humour. You grew up watching him read and collect books and naturally you picked up on that habit. As you grew up you watched him work closely, helping him wherever you could with the company which led him to hand it over to you. 

Not your father, your brother or any of your cousins but you.

He was lucky enough to watch you take on the role and make the company flourish for all three months before he passed away peacefully one night in his sleep. 

The feud began after that as your uncle, Jin Lee and your father started expressing their concerns, saying that you wouldn't be able to rule over the company well now that your grandfather wasn't here to guide you. While your uncle wanted the publishing house for himself and his useless son, Jun, your father wanted to hand the company over to Chan, believing that your brother would be a better president, and offering you the role of the vice president instead. It came to you without any surprise because your brother was always your father's favourite child.

You, however, had stood your ground and promptly refused, challenging them to try and take it from you. Thankfully, your brother was on your side, saying that it rightfully belonged to you and you were more than eligible to rule over it. Chan's disinterest may have backed off your father temporarily, you can tell, but your uncle is still desperate, now more than ever.

"You are going to move back to your place soon as well," Chan complains with a pout, breaking your train of thought. Giving him a sad smile you open your arms, inviting him for a hug which he gladly accepts. After one week of staying at the hospital and your mother's burial, you decided that you would stay at the mansion you grew up in, essentially your father's house, instead of your own apartment in the city, for the foreseeable future. This mansion held a lot of memories for you, especially with your mother. Breakfast in the garden, late night talks in the huge library and sipping on tea while watching the sunset together through the large window in the west wing.

You could never imagine a life without your mother yet here you are, living one. But it is time you slowly start going back to where you belong.

"It will be lonely here without you…and mom," Chan whispers.

You can only blink back your tears and hug him tighter.

—

Just on your fifth day back, you realise that things are not going to be anywhere near easy for you, not that you expected, but still.

The moment you get to work on Wednesday morning, there is a commotion outside the main entrance of the building which leads your driver to drop you and Seungcheol at the underground entrance. You are greeted by the bleak face of your secretary as you walk to your office, who announces that the vice president is there to see you. Once you enter your office, you indeed find vice president Jun, your dear cousin, sitting on your seat with the face of a cat who ate the canary.

Seungcheol, who is always trailing behind you like a shadow, moves— to drag him out of your seat no doubt, but you raise your hand as a gesture to tell him to stop.

"Good morning, Miss Lee. Though it doesn't look like a good morning for you," He grins, standing up and rounding the desk lazily while tilting his chin at the coffee table where the morning paper is lying. You pick it up and in bold letters on the front page, the headline greets you with: "President of Lee Publishings Accused of Employee Mistreatment."

It goes on and on about some bullshit of how you have been treating employees badly and holding their salary because you have apparently returned with a nasty temper as you can't speak anymore. You can't help but scoff, because the reality is far, far from what the paper says. 

Ever since you've been back at work, all you've ever done is stay inside your office and go through all the pending documents and close deals that were hanging. Your only human contact has been your secretary Hansol and your bodyguard, both of whom have more similarities to a wall than a human. Your previously bubbly secretary has turned awkward now, probably because you have lost your voice and holding a conversation with you proves to be hard. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is like a robot who stands by your door all day and only answers your questions as briefly as possible, most of the time with a yes or no.

Your hands form fists at your sides as you glare at Jun, who stands there, pridefully evil, watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. "Things are looking rather bleak for you," He tuts in mock sympathy as he strolls towards you, hands in his pockets. As he comes to stand right next to you, his hand reaches out for your shoulder to pat you but Seungcheol grabs his wrist and twists it, making him shriek in pain. 

"Fuck! Let go, you asshole!"

"You do not have permission to touch her," Seungcheol calmly states, still not letting go. You sigh and sign Seungcheol to kick him out, which he does immediately while your cousin screams in protest as you walk to your desk and sit down, rubbing your temples in frustration.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Seungcheol asks after closing the door behind him.

You watch him for a while, your mind running a mile a minute as you think of a thousand ways of payback. But then you remind yourself that you have to approach this calmly.  So you force a smile and sign. 

"Send my secretary in. —

A couple of days later, you are not pleasantly surprised to see your father waiting to greet you at the front of the house when you return from work.

Just as Seungcheol opens the car door for you to get out, your father marches towards you.

"What did you do, girl? I told you to stay put! Your uncle Jin is here to see you!" His tone is not friendly. In fact, you pick up heavy disappointment, which you expected. This was bound to happen after you fired your cousin Jun from his position today. 

You smile calmly at him before turning to Seungcheol and signalling to him that he is relieved of his duties. He looks at you warily and you have a feeling he wants to say no but he ultimately just nods and takes his leave, driving away the car to park.

"He's waiting for you in the backyard." Your father announces. As you start walking away he yells, "You better fix what you have done today! The company won't last if you keep on making hasty decisions like these!"

Deciding to ignore him you walk to the backyard with unfaltering steps and find your uncle standing there with arms crossed, feet tapping furiously. You approach him with a smile, not a friendly one but the subtle smile of challenge as he takes furious steps towards you when he sees you coming.

"You! What have you done, _____? You fired my son from his position!" He hollers, marching to stand in front of you, fury blazing vividly in his eyes. 

Silently, you hold eye contact with him.

"You think you can do as you please after you get into an accident and we'll just let you? Who do you think you are to fire my son?"

You smirk before producing your notepad from your bag and start scribbling.

"I'm the president of the company and based on our investigation your son was found guilty of spreading fake news about me mistreating my employees. The reporter who got paid to write it confessed himself."

You hold out the notepad for him to read.

"How dare you believe a lowly reporter over my son? Over your own cousin?" Your uncle is livid. "If you keep behaving like this then I'll retract all my assets shared with your father. You know I can take over the Lee Enterprises anytime if I want."

You roll your eyes. Yeah, do whatever you want.

You start writing down. "If you have nothing productive to say I suggest you leave now and have a chat with your precious son. I have had a long day."

As soon as he reads the words written on the paper he bats the notebook away from your hand, making you gasp. The look in his eyes is akin to a madman's as he takes a threatening step towards you and leans in to whisper in your ear. 

"If you don't want to end up like your mother I suggest you start behaving, ______." He sneers.

Your whole body freezes up like a block of ice as your breath catches in your lungs. Your uncle's eyes are cruel, threating, filled with a layer of secrets that you're desperate to uncover as he takes a step back. The look of panic on your face brings satisfaction to him as watches you for a few moments, letting his words sink in and challenging you to do something about it before he smirks and walks out of the backyard.

Your legs, which have been shaky until now finally give up and you fall on the perfectly trimmed grass, your breaths coming out in the form of pants. 

The horrible realisation sinks into you. 

Your suspicions were true. 

His words just confirmed that which means you need to up your game. Immediately.

You're surprised at how quickly, how easily you think of one person when you need someone to help you. 

Hands shaky, you type a message to Seungcheol.

— There's something different about Seungcheol the moment he arrives at your front gate in his BMW. As you watch him get out of the car and jog towards you, you realise it's his fit; he's not wearing his typical two piece suit. 

No, he's dressed in a fitted white polo and black slacks, the polo so tight that you can see the bulging outline of his chest and arms. Despite the negative thoughts brewing in your head you get distracted for a second as you ogle him unashamedly and take longer than you should to respond to his question. "Are you alright, ma'am? I wasn't expecting you to call so late."

You roll your eyes. It's only like eight in the evening. Though you can see why it was unexpected for him because he is relieved from duty as you get off work in the evening. Not replying to him, you tilt your head towards his car, indicating to him to open the passenger side door. He looks doubtful for a second before following your instructions.

"Where would you like me to take you?" Seungcheol asks once you're both inside the car and he has started the engine. You sigh and sign, "Somewhere far and quiet."

His thick brows knot into a frown as he thinks for a few seconds before simply nodding. Then, surprising you, he reaches over and pulls your seatbelt across your chest, which you just realised you forgot to put on. His being so close lets you get a really good sniff of his cologne and once again you get heavily distracted as you start wondering what he'd do if you leaned into his neck and wrapped your arms around him.

Where are these thoughts coming from? 

You have no idea. This is not the first time you've had them, though.

It is like this new disease you have caught. Your mind goes haywire whenever you look at Seungcheol for a second too long. The first time it happened was right after the rumour of employee mistreatment broke out and you were leaving from work. Even though you took the back exit through the underground parking, the press mobbed you, throwing a string of questions at you while their cameras kept flashing repeatedly.

Seungcheol, of course, managed everything very efficiently and got you away safely. The way his hand squeezed your shoulder, his face hovering near yours while he asked if you were okay was a feeling that has managed to stay with you very vividly even now. You were a bit spaced out but not for the reasons he was thinking; it was just that he looked too attractive and his touch felt too comforting, even though he was merely doing his job.

You are a tiny bit ashamed to admit that he has made your heart flutter since then, with every little thing he did. 

You don't get to dwell on your day dreams for too long because he's leaning back in his seat and pressing the accelerator, making you jerk softly.

A quiet thirty minutes of drive later you discover that Seungcheol has taken you to the beach right on the outskirts of the city. It isn't something you were expecting but you realise it is something you definitely need. 

As he parks the car on a small cliff overlooking the entire beach, you hear the soothing sounds of the wave crashing into the shore clearly. 

And it brings back vague memories of your childhood, when your mother took you to this beach because she loved the air here so much. As if in a trance, you get out of the car and stand by the cliff, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as the salty smell in the air invades your nose. Your bodyguard stands by you silently for a while and without looking, you can tell that his eyes are on you, watching you carefully.

Sometime later, he breaks the peaceful silence, "Would like to eat something? There are a few food trucks nearby." He moves his head to motion at the food trucks parked far away, their lights blinking. Shaking your head no, you fill your lungs with the cool night air by taking one more deep breath before moving to the back of the car and leaning against the trunk. Seungcheol follows you as you pat the space next to you for him to come and stand. 

He does so and you let out a heavy breath before signing. "I need you to do something for me. Something that has to remain a secret."

Seungcheol raises his brows slightly before frowning. He doesn't reply immediately and you stand upright, holding eye contact with him. "It is very important to me, Seungcheol. I need to know if I can trust you to keep it a secret from everyone," you sign.

"Okay, ma'am." He finally responds. 

"Even from my father," you sign. "I know you're working for him but for this task, I will pay you separately so you will only answer to me about this, okay?"

"Okay ma'am."

"Good." You huff out a breath. "You are from a prominent security company, right? I need you to look into a man for me. Jin Lee."

"Your uncle?" He looks bewildered. "Yes. I need his whereabouts on 23rd March of this year. And I need to know who he contacted before this accident. Any call or bank transfer that seems remotely out of place, you look into it for me, okay?" He pauses for a breath before replying. "Okay, ma'am."

"Just call me ____, Seungcheol."

— On the weekend, you have lunch with Chan in the garden of the mansion, the place where you two had lunch with your mother, as he eagerly asks you about how you have been doing and assures you that he is here if you need anything. After lunch, you see him off for a meeting before aimlessly strolling through the hallways of your house by yourself.

The cleanup at your place has been completed so you are planning on moving back tomorrow and you realise it will be a while before you come back here. Through your walk, you come across a painting hanging on the large hallway towards your father's office that makes you stop to stare. 

It is a picture of your mother with you and Chan, taken when you were about twelve years old. It is your favourite picture in the entire house, maybe because you have a memory attached to it or maybe because it's simply magnificent, the three of your smiles shining so brightly.

It was a gift from your grandfather to your mother on her thirty seventh birthday and she had it hung here, right in front of a large set of windows that overlooks the garden. The afternoon sun falls right on the picture, casting it in an ethereal glow and it is almost like your mom is here, cheering you on with her beautiful smile.

With a soft sigh and tears withheld, you say goodbye to the picture and walk away. You are aiming to go straight to your room but the loud voices coming from your father's office makes you stop.

You realise the door is just slightly opened and you walk over to shut it but stop in your tracks when you hear your uncle's voice.

"You better get your daughter under control or it will not be good for you!" He is shouting.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am warning you, brother."

"Jin, please, just let her be for a while. She has lost her voice. I am sure she will not be able to perform like before. Then you and the board can fire her."

You are somewhat hurt by your father's words but once again, they do not come to you as a surprise. "Exactly! Why should I let the company go to waste because of her poor performance? You tell her to fuck off or I will remove her myself!"

"Jin, please. You already got rid of Aileen. You do not have to go any further.

Your world has come to a stop.

You forget to breath, as you simply stand there, stunned, convinced that you heard wrong.

You had to have heard wrong.

"I got rid of her and I'll get rid of you too, if you don't listen to me! Don't forget I own the shares of the family hotel just as much as you do. It will not be a challenge to turn the board of directors against you. Imagine what will happen after that? Your most lucrative business will be completely mine and your dear son will become penniless."

There is no reply from your father. Or maybe there is but you do not hear it.

There is a deafening ring in yours ears as you muffle your sobs by clutching your mouth tightly and making a beeline for your room.

You cannot believe this. You absolutely can not. It is something you could not have imagined even in your wildest nightmare. Your father knows your uncle killed your mom, yet he is staying silent. Why? Why!

Granted, your parents were never happily married and growing up you have heard that your father has mistresses. It never bothered your mother because their marriage was only a business agreement in the very first place and she had all her attention focused on you and Chan. But to think that he is letting her killer walk free is unbelievable.

After all he lived with her, his wife, the mother of his children for so many goddamn years!

By the time you have entered your room, you are full on crying, ugly and loud. Tears are blurring your vision as you flail around the room, helplessly, aimlessly, devastatedly. 

And before you know it, you are throwing the thousand dollar porcelain vase by your bedside to the ground.

The piece shatters into bits and the sound oddly satisfies you, prompting you to throw another one. And for the next few minutes you throw anything you can find in your room, not caring how valuable they are, not caring that a shard of glass has ripped the skin below your left thumb, making you bleed.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" You yell at the top of your lungs, not caring to keep up the facade anymore.

Once you have run out of energy, you stop to look at the mess you made, glad that the messy room and the pain from the cut on your hand makes your mind go blank for a while.

But you do not miss the small, almost inaudible creak of the door to your room. Your head whips into the direction to see none other than Seungcheol, standing right out front, his eyes wide and his lips parted in a small gasp of surprise. 

You forget to breathe as you realise he might have been standing there for a while and he witnessed everything. 

Everything.

He knows your secret.  He knows that you are not mute. Before you know it, your feet are moving as you push open the door and yank your bodyguard into your room, not before glancing left and right down the hallway to check anyone's presence.

As soon as you lock the door, you press him against it and lean on your tiptoes, inching your face closer to him as you whisper, "Keep. This. A. Secret."

You had meant for the words to come out threatening but your tear stained eyes and cracking voice doesn't help establish that image.

Seungcheol stares at you with a gaze you are quite unable to decipher. His eyes are soft, full of wonder and you think you can almost spot admiration and something more in them and for a moment, you find yourself lost in the sea of his gaze. 

"______". He calls your name softly. His hands come to your upper arms to hold you gently as he puts some distance between the two of you before ushering you towards your bed and making you sit down. "Your secret is safe with me," he confirms as he sits next to you. "But I am glad you can speak again." He murmurs, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he looks around the room you just trashed.

You let out half a sigh of relief, knowing that your secret is safe and you find yourself speaking before you can even think. "I got my voice back quite a while ago. Two months after the accident, actually." Seungcheol's head whips towards you, his eyes widening in surprise.

"My uncle seemed very happy when I lost my voice and he was being weirdly nice to me. I already had my suspicions that the accident was an inside job so I pretended to act mute." You whisper, eyes trained on the floor.

How right you were!

It was an inside job but it had its roots spread out much farther than you thought. Your uncle killed your mother while your father sits there in silence despite knowing that!

The thought makes you shake your head as a dry, mirthless laughter wrings out of your throat. Your head falls back as you laugh like a mad woman as Seungcheol watches you, absolutely perplexed.

He gently tries calling your name. "______—"

"My father knew!" You are yelling between laughter. "He fucking knew!"

The poor man only looks more confused.

"He knew— he… he knows my uncle killed my mom but he is staying silent! He said it himself! I heard him! Do you understand, Seungcheol, my father is turning a blind eye! He is choosing to save his fucking business over me, over his children!"

Seungcheol looks absolutely baffled upon hearing your words as he falls silent with a bleak expression. He does not have the adequate words to respond to that and he simply does not know what he can do at this point to make you feel better.  However, he takes notice of the cut below your thumb and reaches for your hand, setting it down on his thigh while he takes out a handkerchief and gently ties it around the injury. "You hurt yourself," he states quietly, almost to himself before meeting your eyes. "I know what you heard was painful but you need to take care of yourself. For your mother, at least."

And the damn breaks.

You break into a full on sob as you wrap your hands around his large shoulders, molding yourself against him as you cry unceremoniously in his chest. Seungcheol's arms wrap around your body in an effortless blanket of security as he rests his chin on top of your head and strokes your head while you try to burrow yourself deeper into his chest. 

It takes a while for the messy array of tears to subside and once you have calmed down a little, you take notice of his white shirt which is now completely wet where you rested your face. "I'm sorry," you croak weakly, trying to pull away but he holds you by the arms and makes you face him by tilting your chin with his finger.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, okay? Now tell me what I can do to make this a little better. Just so you know, my team is almost done digging up about your uncle. We should have a solid update tomorrow."

A small sob of gratitude and relief escapes your throat and Seungcheol immediately shushes you, his eyes helplessly searching for yours. "C-can you please ask them to look into my dad as well," you hiccup, saying the words you never imagined would come out of your mouth. "I need to know his whereabouts before the accident."

Seungcheol assures you with a nod while his hand strokes your back soothingly. Exhaling a loud, defeated sigh, you wipe your tears and mutter. "Please help me pack my bags, Seungcheol. I am moving back to my place. Tonight. I cannot stay here a second longer."

The man looks like he wants to protest but goes against it and simply nods, getting up to retrieve your bags from your closet.

After hastily packing your belongings you waste no time to march out of the house with Seungcheol trailing behind you. You leave a note on the kitchen, simply saying something came up and you had to leave early.

You are extremely grateful that you do not come across your father because one look at him and the ticking time bomb inside you would explode and you definitely cause a scene.

As the night grows deeper slowly, you isolate yourself in your room once you come back to your apartment. Despite Seungcheol's insistence, you tell him to call it a day and lock yourself up in your room, throwing yourself a pity party. It has been a while since you had such a restless night— the last one being after the accident, and it takes a long long time for sleep to come.

When your eyes finally fall shut, hues of orange and blue have already grazed the sky. 

—

You do not feel like your best self in the morning but the news Seungcheol brings is enough to get you back on track. 

The manila file sitting on your desk is a gold mine, it's contents spread throughout the surface as you sit in silence, hands linked together under your chin, your brain finally connecting the pieces together.

Seungcheol's friends found a shady bank transfer made by your uncle, two weeks before the accident. The tip led them to an old gang who, after applying some tactics, admitted to taking money from Jin Lee in order to commit a hit and run. After digging around some more they found papers that now lie on your table, a clear proof of your uncle's deal with the gang, which they kept as insurance. Among the documents, one particularly catches your eye.

It is the information of the driver of the truck that hit your car. 

The picture is like a jolt of electricity through your system as you are immediately taken back to the scene of the crash, the moments after where you were hovering over the brink of consciousness. You remember seeing a man peeking into your wrecked car, a man with a scar on his left cheek and all this time you could not fully believe that to be real.

But it was.  You did not imagine it. The picture on the document is that of the driver you saw that morning, the man with a scar on his left cheek, his eyes dark and blank, his lips twisted in a line of malice.

"_____?" Seungcheol's gentle voice guides you out of your head. "My friend had his confession recorded. Would you like to hear it?"

"Of course."

"I need to warn you…it is pretty detailed. About the accident, you know." He looks guilty, even though he has no reason to be.

You swallow a lump in your throat as your heart beat picks up. Are you really ready to revisit that morning? Relive all those feelings?

You have to.

Seungcheol pushes a voice recorder towards you on the table, pressing a button to turn it on.

"I was told that there would be only a girl and her bodyguard in the car! I swear I didn't know her mother would be there as well! I did not mean to kill the woman! After I hit the car, I went to check and…and the older woman was dead! The girl looked barely alive and I didn't think she would survive…."

There is a buzzing sound in your ears. It is deafening.

You are transported to a void where these words keep repeating and repeating, pulling you down, sucking you deeper into a pit of despair.  It hurts so much you are sure death would be easier.

Your head hangs low, silent tears trailing down your cheek as you stare at your lap. Seungcheol calls your name multiple times, asking if you are okay but you cannot bring yourself to form a reply.

The pain, the guilt, the shame, the anger— everything is overwhelming. These feelings consume you whole and dry you out until you are left with an unbelievable urge to scream and holler and cry. 

"______, please, can you hear me?" Seungcheol's touch on your shoulder makes you jolt. You look up to find him standing next to you, eyes glazed with concern as he peers down at you.

"I am fine," you reply after taking a shaky breath.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should call it day—"

"Seungcheol?" You interrupt him. You wipe the tears clean and sit up straight. "Can you call my lawyer? I need him here as soon as possible."

—

Bad news awaits you the next day when you return home from work. 

As usual Seungcheol walks you to the door of your apartment but you realise something is up when he abruptly stops after stepping out of the elevator and turning towards the door to your place. Following his line of sight you realise he has taken notice of the slightly open front door to your house. 

Your heart drops as a small gasp leaves your lips.

Someone broke into your place. And it does not take a genius to guess who Plus it also confirms that your uncle has found out you have been snooping around. A calm man like him does not make a move unless things are really dire and this proves that he is desperate to get that evidence out of your hands.

Seungcheol tenses up beside you and uses a hand to push you behind his body in a protective manner as he steps closer to the door. With the other hand he pulls out his revolver, holding it out and pointing it straight.

"S-Seungcheol—" You start panicking.

He shushes you before you can say much, eyes trained forward as he takes measured steps. Swallowing the bubble of fear, you hold his back as you follow him into your apartment. 

The storeroom which is right on the left after entering is the first place Seungcheol checks, and when he finds it clear he pushes you inside haphazardly.

"Don't come out until I get you." He commands, shutting the door on your face and clicking the lock before you can even process anything. Baffled, you stand still inside the dimly lit room, carefully listening for any sounds, while a thousand different thoughts run through your head.  This building is one of the most secure residential buildings in the city and breaking in here is quite literally impossible. Which means it is clear your uncle bribed someone on the inside and the realisation of how scary things are getting dawns on you, making you chew nervously on your lower lip as you start to grow restless.

Thankfully, a quick while later Seungcheol opens the door, a wary look on his face and you can immediately tell something is wrong. As soon as the door opens, you push past him and head for your bedroom, only to find the place absolutely trashed. Everything is a mess; from your bed to your closet to your dresser and it is evident that someone took their sweet time to comb through every one of your possessions and as you take in the havoc, the last of your doubts go away.

They were undoubtedly looking for the documents and the recorder. 

Your hands fist at your sides as tears of anger and frustration gather at the corners of your eyes. It only amplifies when you see one of your most precious belongings lying face down on the floor— a picture of you and your mother taken on your eighteenth birthday. 

Immediately you kneel and pick the frame up only to find it broken, making you heave out a helpless cry of anger. As you clutch it to your chest, your eyes scan the mess around you and a sense of doom settles in your gut. So this is what your life has come to now.

"Come. You're not staying here." Seungcheol's quiet command disrupts your thoughts.

"W-what? What do you mean? Where am I gonna go?" You scramble to stand up.

"At my place. This place isn't safe, _____." He pins you down with a serious look. "Pack your essentials and I mean absolute essentials. Your passport and any important papers."

"Wait, I—"

"Now." He commands. "I am gonna make some calls to find out who did this. Be ready in ten." He is walking out of the room while dialling a number, leaving you flabbergasted.

A while later you sit on the passenger's seat next to Seungcheol as he pulls the car out of your underground parking and onto the busy street, eyes focused on the road in silence. The only sound surrounding you is the sound of the bustling city and it isn't enough to ease the thick tension in the car. Seungcheol's jaw is clenched and his lips are pressed into a thin line as you observe him while he stares straight ahead. "What do we do after going to your place? I can't just hide forever." You break the silence with your words, your eyes trained out the window. It looks like it's going to rain.

"You'll stay in my place until the threat is removed. I'll soon receive the CCTV footage and from there on we can track down who ordered to invade your home." He declares.

"It was my uncle." You say without much thought.

Seungcheol turns to look at you for a beat before focusing on the road again. "You sound sure." He murmurs.

"Who else would it be then? He is after the evidence." You reply. Seungcheol remains silent for a beat before agreeing with a hum. Another silence follows after that. You take occasional, shy glances at him while he drives and when the car stops at a red light in an intersection, you call for him, making him turn his head to look at you. "Seungcheol?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For today."

He stares at you quietly, not blinking. "I just did my job."

"No, you are doing a lot more. You are helping me out in so many ways and I can only keep myself together thanks to you."

He only stares more at you. His gaze is intense and his eyes are hypnotic; if you stare too long it unnerves you, dissects you open. "You will be fine, _____." He replies after a long pause. "With or without me."

His words trigger you. 

With or without me?

You want to yell that he has to stick around however long you want him to but his cold demeanour makes your thoughts appear silly, even to yourself.  You are clearly looking for something more, much more than he wants to give you.  You know he would probably burn the world for you, not because he loves you but because he is a loyal person and probably because he pities you. 

Just a little bit. And you accept that. — Seungcheol's place is a canvas of grey and black and white. It is minimalistic and clean, a one bedroom apartment on the tenth floor in a quieter part of the city. As he walks you through his humble abode, he gives directions on where everything is and finally opens the door to his bedroom, leading you in before announcing. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

You do not protest because you know he would never listen. Instead, you almost ask him to share the bed with you but prevent going with it because you cannot trust yourself to remain professional while he sleeps so close to you with that tempting body of his.

"I'll leave you to rest. I'm going for a grocery run. Do not open the door for anyone but me. If there is any problem, call me." He uses his no nonsense tone and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

"Okay, okay." You watch him leave before shutting the bedroom door and sitting down on the floor, letting out a deep breath, one you've been unconsciously holding for a while.

As you watch the orange sky from the large window of Seungcheol's bedroom, the events of the last forty eight hours wash over you. You can't help but admire yourself at how calm you are. You woke up feeling numb today and you've been functioning on autopilot the whole day. Seeing your place ransacked did evoke some emotion within you but then again, deep down you were expecting something like this to happen once you had the evidence. 

You're running on pure adrenaline and you know you cannot stop until you have put your dear uncle behind bars. 

And maybe, even your father. 

He's an accomplice, no? He knows very well who killed his wife yet he decides to keep quiet, which makes him more vile to you. You find more hatred towards your father brimming within you, than towards your uncle. Yes, you expected him to play unfair but your own father knowing the culprit of your mother's death and simply burying it under the rug?  That, you absolutely cannot tolerate. 

A number of different scenarios run through your head on how you can bring them down. Despite having this irresistible urge to just run to the police with the recorder, you remember your lawyer's words.

It won't be enough. 

A few documents and a tape of confession are not enough to bring a man like Jin down. He has very strong connections with law enforcement and an even stronger set of lawyers. You need a solid witness. You need to catch him red handed. You need to create a scandal he can't recover from. You need to gather more proof. Proof so irrefutable, that his entire empire comes crashing down. 

And good for you, your uncle has already started setting up his doom. Trashing your place was his first mistake, the first piece of the domino. Now, it is a matter of time until everything collapses. You pray he will keep on making more mistakes. 

In fact, you know he will. He will do anything to get his hands on the evidence and you will stack all his actions against him at court. And when the time comes for the nail to hit the head…

You're going to be the bait. —

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you wake up from your sleep. Falling asleep came to you easily after eating the dinner Seungcheol cooked and then curling up in his bed where the sheets smelled subtly like him. It led you to have the best sleep you had in a while but now that you are awake, there is an itch in your throat, making it dry. 

So, quietly, you get up from bed and walk to the kitchen, a small light in the hallway guiding you to find a glass and pour yourself some water. 

As you sit on one of the breakfast stools and gulp it down, you watch Seungcheol sleeping on the sofa. The blanket that was probably on top of him once has fallen on the floor, the small space clearly not sufficient for his large frame as almost half of his body hangs out of the sofa. You almost feel bad for him and wonder how he can sleep in such a tiny space but it is pointless to feel guilty. He would never take the bed, no matter how much you offered.

As you take the last few sips of your water, you catch the moonlight draping over half of his face, casting it in an ethereal glow. It's stunning how beautiful he is. His usual stoic face is now relaxed, his full brows not knotted in a frown, his long eyelashes resting against his cheek, his plump full lips parted just a tiny bit. 

Unashamedly, for the nth time, you find yourself wondering how it'd be like to kiss him. You can't remember the last time a man made you feel like this, if ever. Your relationship with him should be strictly professional yet as you spend more time with him your mind keeps on entering forbidden territories.  Which is sad because you know he feels nowhere near that for you. Maybe he even has a girlfriend, or a wife— though you see no ring in his finger. Maybe a divorced wife with whom he parted ways begrudgingly, someone who still haunts his dreams. 

As you conjure up various scenarios of his relationship status, Seungcheol stirs in his sleep before a quiet groan escapes his lips.

You crane your head to take a better look at him, to see if he's awake but you soon realise he isn't as another pained groan leaves his lips, his large body shuffling in the congested space.

Is he having a nightmare?

You immediately get up and dash towards him, turning a light on the way and kneeling right beside the sofa. There's a light sheen of sweat coating his face and his eyebrows are marred in a frown as his eyes remain squeezed shut, his body writhing desperately "Seungcheol? Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing his shoulders and trying your best to shake him out of whatever that's haunting him.

"No! No! Please, no!" The pain and helplessness in his voice halts your breath as you continue to shake him awake while his hands come to grab your arms in a tight hold, almost like an anchor. His grip only grows stronger as he yells in protest and you try your very best to wake him up once more. "Seungcheol! Please! Wake up! It's a nightmare!"

A set of blown out pupils look at you the next moment, and in a moment of silence a small shaky breath leaving his lips before they part slightly in shock. Then, before you know it, you are falling on your ass as Seungcheol shoves you away and scrambles to the farthest corner of the sofa. 

Even though your ass hurts, you know it was an unintended reaction. You whisper in a voice so soft as if you're talking to a wounded animal, "Seungcheol, it's okay. You're safe. You were having a nightmare."

The man sits still, hugging his knees as he still tries to catch his breath, a horrified look on his face. Not being able to bear it anymore, you immediately move to him and even though he flinches and tries to move away at first, he gives in when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

Soon he's burying his face on your neck as his large body curls around you, his hands gripping your night shirt tightly as if he's trying to mould himself into you. You feel his harsh pants on your shoulder so you try your best to soothe him, rubbing his back in repeated motions while whispering words of solace.

"It's alright, Seungcheol. I'm here. I have got you. It was just a bad dream."

You don't know how long you hold him like that but it seems to be a while, which feels too soon to you because Seungcheol pulls away from your arms before scooting away, putting a little distance between the two of you. He doesn't meet your eyes as he sighs, annoyed and dejected, while rubbing his temples.  "Are you okay? Would you like some water?" You offer. He shakes his head, looking down, his usual stoic mask settling back onto his face. 

"Why are you up?" He asks, his tone somewhat snappy. You frown. "I got out of bed to get a glass of water. You were having a nightmare, Seungcheol. Are you sure—"

"It's fine. It happens."

You are stunned at his lack of care. Is this a daily occurrence? Does he wake up every night, alone and screaming from his nightmares? Why is he allowing this to happen? Does he have someone to talk to? You want to ask all these questions but then decide against it due to the situation. Instead, you shuffle a little closer to him and start fixing his messy hair with a soft touch.

Seungcheol completely freezes at first and you expect him to bat your hand away but he doesn't. So you bite your lip to hide your smile as you finish fixing his hair before wiping the sweat off his brow. 

But you don't get to go far with that because Seungcheol grabs your wrist in a gentle hold, stopping you. His eyes scan over the length of your arms before he meets your eye. "Are you okay? I hurt you, didn't I?"

You simply shake your head and offer him a small smile which doesn't seem to convince him. His brows frown once again as you see him start overthinking so you put a stop to them. "I'm fine, Seungcheol, really. If you should be worried about anything, it is yourself. You're not on duty right now, you know. You can relax. I'm not a priority now." His eyes bore into yours and for a moment you see something foreign in his eyes. Something akin to vulnerability, longing, maybe even desperation.

"Go back to sleep, ____." His voice is gruff. "You've had a long day."

You want to protest but decided not to as huff out a breath and cast one more longing glance at him, hoping that maybe he would change his mind, before retreating to your room.

— It's ten o'clock when you wake up. 

Your first thought is that you are late for work, which makes you sit right up, ready to bolt out of bed but the next moment you realise it's a Saturday.  And you are not at home. You are at Seungcheol's place.

So you take your sweet time leaving the bed and freshening up, shuffling through Seungcheol's products in the bathroom. You also sneak in a sniff of his aftershave and cologne, smiling at yourself at your perverseness.

When you step out of your room, you find Seungcheol sitting on one of the breakfast stools, going through some documents with rapt attention. You stand by your door frame for a while, admiring his built frame from behind, his large back muscles and shoulders stretched beneath a white tee but you don't get to stare at him too long because his head turns around and catches you in the act.

"Good morning, _____." He greets.

You clear your throat, shuffling to the kitchen counter and pour yourself a glass of water, pretending as if he didn't just catch you eye fucking him. "Good morning, Seungcheol." Your voice is soft.

"Would you like to have breakfast now? I can make you some toast and omelette." He kindly offers. "There's also cereal if you want."

"I think I'll go with the cereal," You murmur, taking a seat opposite to him. You haven't had much of an appetite for the past few days which isn't really a surprise considering the situation.  Seungcheol goes back to scanning the documents in front of him while you sit in silence, sipping your water. You wonder wether you should bring up last night, maybe ask him if he's okay now but you have a suspicion it won't be received well by him. As you chew on your lip and debate the idea, Seungcheol looks up to meet your eyes, his face ever so serious.

"You have to take a break from work for a few days." He announces.

"What? Why?"

Probably for the first time, you see him hesitate which stresses you out. "What's wrong, Seungcheol? Tell me."

"You have received a few death threats, _____. I found them in your mail. For the time being, you need to lay low, appearing in public puts you at risk. In fact, we're leaving for a safe house today."

"Wait- what?" Your brain is trying hard to catch up. "Safe house? What are you talking about? I'm not safe here?"

"They know your address, _____. It won't take them long to get mine. I need to get you to an untraceable place."

You don't know what to feel or even how to react. You're at a loss as you try to figure out your next move. "What do those threats say exactly? Can I see them?"

Seungcheol's face hardens. "No. They're not pretty to look at." His voice brings shivers down your spine as a wave of nausea hits you. You had no idea your uncle could stoop so low. But then again, he's a murderer so you shouldn't have underestimated him. 

Seungcheol must have seen your face pale because he calls your name firmly, grounding your attention to him. "You are safe with me, _____. You just have to trust me, okay?" You find comfort in his eyes so you find yourself nodding immediately which satisfies him. "Get ready. We'll leave in two hours."

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry about that."

"Does my father know?"

"About the death threats? Yes. He didn't seem too concerned about it though. Said it might be a prank."

Somehow, you're not surprised.

"But not about moving you to a safe location," Seungcheol adds. "No one needs to know about that. It's safer that way."

"Even my brother?"

"Yes. I suggest you call him and tell him you'll be out of reach for a while."

You deflate at that. Chan is going to be worried. And how on earth are you going to explain everything to him when all of this eventually unveils?

Seungcheol gets up, gathering all the papers and just as he turns to leave, he stops. "Oh, and ____? Don't come near me when I'm having a nightmare next time."

What?

"But Seungcheol—"

"For your own safety, _____. Don't. This is not a request." He doesn't wait for your reply but marches away as you silently watch his retreating form, lips pursed in annoyance.

The little appetite you had for breakfast is ruined as you go back to your room, cursing his stubbornness. As you pick up your phone to check for any important messages, a text from your dear father greets you. Your bodyguard told me you received death threats. Maybe it is better for you to stay at home and not work. For your own good, you should seriously consider giving your position to someone else. His flagrant attitude makes your blood boil as you fist your hands around your phone in a death grip before tossing it onto the bed in a fit of rage.

This day has not started off well.

— Two hours later you are well on your way to the safe house with a bag packed containing your absolute necessities. Your bodyguard has confiscated your real phone and gave you a burner instead just to be cautious.

Seungcheol, as always, drives the car in silence, the features of his face set to a grim expression. The air is thick with tension and you debate putting the radio on but even doing that feels too awkward.

"How long is the drive?" You finally ask, desperate to lessen this weird tension.

"We're taking a train from the station."

"Wait, what?"

"It is quite far. Driving there is going to take way too long." He calmly replies, eyes focused on the road. Sighing, you lean back and rest your head against the headrest. You let your eyes wander outside the window, watching the people, the view passing by while your mind runs rampant with all kinds of thoughts; anxious, restless.

A while later, you take notice of something in the rearview mirror and finally voice out the concern that has been bugging you for a while. "Seungcheol?" There's a touch of panic in your voice.

"Yes?"

"See that black Mercedes? It has been following us for a while…I think." You stare eagerly at Seungcheol waiting for his reply, waiting to be told that you are wrong but instead, a small, amused smile graces his lips.

"So you noticed, huh?"

It feels like your heart is going to drop out of your ass.

"What do we do?" You whisper, sitting up straight and craning your head back to take a proper look at the car. Sure enough, the SUV is right behind you, not even trying to be discreet anymore.

Fuck this crap, seriously.

"Trust me, I have got a plan. You just need to do as I tell you, okay?" He assures, his voice composed unlike yours.

"O-okay."

He turns to face you for a beat, giving you a reassuring look before continuing to drive in silence for a couple more minutes while the Mercedes stays on your tail. "Hold tight. I'm going to speed up. There's a parking lot about a mile from here. We're going to stop there."

"WHAT!"

You don't get your reply because the next second, the car is zooming forward as Seungcheol steps on the accelerator. You are gripping the dashboard and your seatbelt with your dear life as Seungcheol speeds through the lane like a madman, swerving every now and then. The Mercedes chasing you has a hard time keeping up with Seungcheol's viciously smooth driving because in a moment's time you are in the parking lot where Seungcheol parks the car in the corner farthest from the entry.

"Listen to me very carefully, ____." Seungcheol says as he turns the engine off and removes his seatbelt. "Crawl to the back and lay low, okay? No matter what happens, what you see, you do not make a move until I come get you, do you hear me?"

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you whisper. "Y-yes. Yes I do."

"Good." He squeezes your hand. "Now crawl into the back."

You do as you are told, moving into the backseat and crouching down as Seungcheol exits the car before locking it. You peek through the tinted window, watching with bated breath as the black SUV pulls up and two bald headed men exit the vehicle which parks right by the entry. They walk to Seungcheol, their stances predatory as they talk about something you cannot hear.

Next thing you know, one of the men is throwing an uppercut towards Seungcheol which fails to land because your bodyguard steps back, avoiding it easily.

Then, a full on fight ensues as the two men attack Seungcheol unsparingly. Seungcheol does not fail to keep up as he easily avoids them and counterattacks. Very soon, he is landing a kick on one of the men that throws him down to the ground with a harsh blow before grabbing the other guy and holding him in a chokehold. Soon, his body slumps to the ground.

Is he dead?

The other guy, meanwhile, recovers and charges for Seungcheol and you notice a bit too late that he has a knife because he manages to land a slash on Seungcheol's chest, making him stumble back. "Seungcheol!" Your hand unconsciously reaches for the door handle, tugging it to get out and help him. Alas, you can't do that. Fortunately, though, Seungcheol seems to not require any help as in the very next moment Seungcheol attacks the man, snatches the knife from him and bashes his head against the trunk of a car once, twice, thrice, making him fall into the ground, unconscious.

The breath you were holding finally escapes your lungs. Seungcheol dashes to the car the next moment, opening the back door and dragging you out by the arm before you can even say something.

"Come on. We don't have time."

"Wait, where are we going?" 

"There's a five minute shortcut to the station from here," he says, leading you by holding your hand as his legs pick up speed. "We have to run because they are expecting us to move by car. Come on!"

And so, you let him guide the way, his hand holding yours tightly, as you take the underground exit of the lot. You run for your life, your legs going sore but you manage to keep going just because of the adrenaline.  Soon enough, the station comes into view and Seungcheol picks up speed as the whistle of the train echoes through the air, informing its departure.

"Oh crap, we're not gonna make it!" You yell. "We will. Just keep running," Seungcheol hollers back as you both run parallel to the train that is slowly picking up speed. Suddenly Seungcheol lets go of your hand which throws you into a moment of panic but you keep running as you start to guess his plan.

You watch as he bolts for the entrance of the last carriage and in the blink of an eye, jumps inside.

"Holy shit." You curse. The next moment, he turns around and leans out the door, holding out one of his hands for you to grab onto while the other grips the handle by the door.  "Come on! Grab my hand!"

Your legs are so tired they feel shaky, ready to collapse any moment. Still, you run with all your might, holding out your hand, reaching for his. 

"Just a little bit! You can do it!" He encourages as the rhythm of the wheels intensifies, letting you know you do not have much time.

Oh shit.

Grunting in frustration, you put all the bridling remnants of your energy and dart forward which seems to be just enough, as your hand touches Seungcheol's. The next moment he grabs onto your hand and in the blink of an eye he is tugging your full weight and pulling you inside the carriage.

Upon entering, you collapse on the floor, panting loudly as Seungcheol lets go of your hand and cranes his neck out the door as if looking for something. Even though you are wheezing for air, you follow his line of sight and see two men running after the train as if they were chasing you. By now the train is moving at full speed, crossing the end of the platform, making them slow down and watch helplessly. "Who…are…they?" You choke between breaths.

"Your uncle's men." Seungcheol replies nonchalantly as he shuts the door and kneels next to you.

"How long have they been following us?"

"After we got to the station."

"Why didn't you say anything!"

"I didn't want to scare you." He replies, his hand wrapping around your shoulder. "Don't talk, just breathe. You did well."

You don't know if it is the intensity of the situation or the adrenaline crash or his words that make you slump in his arms, your body resting against his as you catch your breath. The feeling of his warmth against your body is something you are extremely grateful for at the moment.

"Please tell me you have tickets." You pant, resting your head against his shoulder.

"Of course. First class." _____ Five hours later, you are at your destination.

It is a cabin in a small town full of greenery and old architecture.  It is very picturesque, located in between a vast area of mountains, somewhere you'd come to spend the summer with your family maybe. Even though your situation is the farthest thing from a vacation, it doesn't stop you from admiring the beauty before your eyes.

"The place is very beautiful, Seungcheol." You admire the surroundings as well as the cabin.

It's somewhat isolated from the town, shrouded by the forest, as the nearest market from here is about ten minutes drive.

"Thank you, my grandfather made it. He left it for me." He provides as he carries your small bag from the car he borrowed from a friend here and unlocks the door with a key.

"We should do something about your cut." You mention worriedly, crossing the threshold as you see him slightly wince while moving. The bleeding seems to have stopped after he put some pressure in the wound but it still needs to be cleaned.

Hearing your words, he looks down to see the wound before shrugging, "It's fine. The bleeding has stopped."

You expected him to say something like that so you take matters in your own hands. "Is there a first aid kit here?" You ask as you pad to the bathroom, looking around carefully and sure enough, inside the cabinets under the sink, there's a first aid box.  Seungcheol murmurs grumbles of protest as you come back to the living area and ask for him to sit on the spot next to you on the couch.  Thankfully he listens to you. As he unbuttons his shirt, you disinfect your hands while trying your best not to peek at the delicious row of abs that comes into display. As his wound comes into view you cannot help but wince at the sight, which doesn't go unnoticed by your bodyguard. His hand immediately reaches to take the cotton swab from your hand, murmuring. "I can do it myself."

You tsk in disapproval, sending him your best scolding glare before resting one of your hands on his shoulder for support and gently swiping on the wound with the swab dipped in antiseptic with your dominant hand. Seungcheol sits still all through it while you hold your breath, channelling all your focus on the task at hand. 

It is scary; being this close to him and for some reason the act of cleaning up a cut is turned into something way too intimate by your brain. So, you don't dare to look in his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in them but terrified of what they will make you feel; something you can not resist or put a lid on, like the urge to cup his cheeks and kiss those irresistible lips.

You must be swiping at his wound with your face mere inches away from touching his chest for way too long because one of Seungcheol's hands comes to grab your wrist, stopping your movements.  "I think that's enough," His voice holds the aloofness that you are used to which makes you sigh.

"Does it hurt? Do you want a painkiller?" You still find yourself asking.

Seungcheol frowns. "No, ____. I'm fine. It's just a cut, I won't die."

"Still—"

"Maybe you should focus on yourself. You have had a long day—"

"Why do you always do this!" It takes a few moments for you to realise you are yelling. You stand on your feet, hands fisted at your sides as the first aid kit falls on the floor from your lap, spilling its contents all over.

"What do you mean?" He asks and you absolutely loathe how his voice never changes, laced with that touch of monotony and indifference.

"Ugh, Seungcheol! Why do you always push me away! I want to help you! I'm just trying to take care of you!" This, however, seems to evoke an emotion from him because he is immediately on his feet, glaring at you, his large body towering over you.

"It is not your job to take care of me! If anyone here is going to take care of someone, it will be me making sure you are alive, is that clear?"

"I'm just trying to help you yet you keep pushing me away—"

"I do not need your help!" His voice is a roar of thunder, making you gasp as you take a step back. You've never seen him like this nor did you imagine someone so unbothered and composed had a side like this. "Who are you, huh? Why do you keep stepping over the line? Did I ask for your fucking help? I'm the last person you should be worried about, Ms Lee, you understand that?"

By now, angry tears have gathered in your eyes. Not wanting to cry in front of him you bite your lips and push past him as you run towards your room. "Fuck you, Choi Seungcheol!" —

You spend a long time in your room, crying and cursing him out before eventually falling asleep out of exhaustion. 

When you are awake from your slumber, the clock reads 2 in the morning. Disoriented and irritated and hungry, the first thing you do after emptying your bladder is go hunt for something to eat. Even though you intended to avoid Seungcheol, it is impossible not to come across him as he sleeps on the couch in the living room, this one thankfully big enough for him to comfortably lie. 

There's a small lamp in the corner of the room and the light from there is falling on one side of his face, highlighting his cheekbones. 

You stand still for a moment to make sure that he's actually asleep, before tiptoeing to the kitchen. Pouring yourself a glass of water and you think of something easy to make that will not wake up the moody bastard in the next room. 

However, you don't get too far with that thought because a moment later, you hear an all familiar groan float through the quiet air of the night. It is Seungcheol. And he's having a nightmare. Once again. It's like deja vu.

All his commands of not helping him fly out the window as you run to the living room. Before you can reach there, however, you hear a crash and upon entering you see Seungcheol, wide awake and sitting on the floor on his hands and knees, his entire frame shaking violently as he keeps uttering something under his breath, still stuck in his nightmare. 

Your heart drops when you see the glass showpiece on the centre table shattered on the floor, along with the pillows and blanket that were previously on the couch. "Seungcheol!" You yell as you rush to him, carefully avoiding the broken shards of glass and sitting on your knees next to him as you try to get him out of his head and focus on you. His blown out pupils meet yours as his hands shake and his breath comes out in struggling pants. 

He's having a panic attack.

"Seungcheol!" you call for him, trying your best to keep your voice stable which proves to be hard as your heart breaks for the man, hating seeing him in this state. 

"Look at me. Listen to my voice. Breathe. Breathe with me. Look at me. Breathe, just breathe, you're going to be fine."

And so for the next few minutes, you try your best to calm the agitated man down, holding his body next to yours as you run your hands along his back, up and down, up and down.

You realise he's back to normal when the shuddering stops and his body remains immoblie next to you, as if he has fallen asleep.  You know otherwise because when you pull back to take a look at his face, you find his eyes open, that familiar, empty and aloof gaze replacing the panicked ones. His lips are set to a thin line and you feel his whole body stiffen next to yours and just like you know he is back to normal.

This time, you do not ask him if he's okay or if he wants anything. Instead you get up from the floor quietly and go to the kitchen where you quickly make him a warm cup of tea.

When you return, he's still on the floor, sitting with his back against the sofa, hands resting on his knees as his head hangs low. Silently, you walk over and sit next to him before extending the steaming mug towards him.

You hold your breath, waiting for him to reject it and start spewing mean words at you but you are to be amazed. 

Surprising you, he does none of those things but accepts the mug and takes a small sip. A tiny smile of victory graces your lips as you settle your gaze forward to the empty wall and sit in silence next to him. 

As the steam gradually disappears from the mug and his dejected posture becomes tense and uptight, you know he's about to tell you off.  Your guess turns out to be correct because just a moment later, he sets his mug down on the floor and turns to face you. His voice is stoic when he speaks, "I clearly told you not to—"

"Do you want to talk about it?" You interrupt him with a soft voice. He appears stunned as his mouth opens to say something but closes back to a tight line.

"I used to have nightmares as well, after the accident." You whisper, leaning back to the sofa, your unfocused gaze settled on the  walls of the cabin as your mind disappears in the depths of the memories of those gruesome nights.

"I'd wake up screaming and crying. Every damn time I'd see the crash so vividly and the moments before it, my mom's desperate eyes at mine, her fading words, telling me to hold on, telling me that she loves me..." You lose your voice with a choke as tears blind your vision. A hand comes to rest on your shoulder gently and gives you a reassuring squeeze. It takes a few moments for your brain to process that it's Seungcheol and you are pleasantly surprised. 

Your eyes search for him, and his face is solemn, his eyes showing just a reflection of kindness and sympathy. With a sad smile, you wipe the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "It was horrible at the beginning when I couldn't speak. I'd wake up distressed and not finding my voice would make it even worse. For the first two months, Chan stayed with me every night. He'd try his best to calm me down but every night I'd be just as scared to go to bed."

"Eventually, the nightmares didn't come as often. Especially after I realised I could speak again and I was remembering bits and pieces of the accident and my suspicion was growing. I haven't had any nightmares for a while now but I remember how they made me feel. How awfully...real they felt." You sigh, shuddering at the thought.

A few moments of silence pass by as Seungcheol's hand drops from your shoulder. You don't expect him to spill his heart out but you are grateful that he didn't push you away and listened to you and comforted you. It is more than you ever thought you could get from him. Having this simple, somewhat bitter moment of intimacy is enough to soothe your love starved heart.  However, you realise it's a night full of surprises when Seungcheol starts speaking. "I was in the military, as you know. I joined when I was eighteen. I lost my parents the year before so it was just me and my grandfather." His voice is quiet as he fixes his eyes out the window, looking at the dark night sky.

You follow his gaze and make a quick observation that there are no stars tonight, just an empty, dark sky, before setting your gaze on Seungcheol's face. 

"My grandfather served in the military during the early years of his life and I wanted to follow his footsteps. The first few years were tough but good. I enjoyed them as they kept me busy and focused. During my fifth year in the military, my grandfather passed away peacefully in his sleep. I was on break at that time so I was there with him in his last moments. However, it still broke me. Sending him off was one of the hardest things I had ever done."

He pauses, making you hold your breath and anticipate his next words. His expression is unreadable, his sharp gaze focused outside when he continues.  "I returned to the military a different man. My life as a soldier became everything to me. I worked ten times harder than anyone else as the military turned into my entire life. I jumped through the ranks very quickly and went on various missions as a SEAL. All of them were dangerous but successful as I led my teams out safely each time. Until Sudan."

There is another heavy pause as you feel the air thicken with tension. You know the worst part is about to begin and as you observe his gaze become more and more unfocused, you can't help but dread whatever is coming next. "It was a humanitarian mission. Me and my team were tasked to rescue some families from a group of local terrorists. They were held inside a camp in the middle of the desert. The infiltration was successful. But, just as we were escaping, the terrorists found out and came at us with double manpower. They had a couple of high powered explosives which we were unprepared for because they were not supposed to have such weapons."

"As my team and I were exchanging fire against them, a bomb went off right next to me. It is the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital bed a week later."

"The explosion fucked up left leg. I needed three surgeries and months of rehabilitation. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part is that it cost three of my teammates their lives."

Oh Seungcheol. Tears are beading down your eyes as you let his words soak into you.

"It happened almost six years ago but it still haunts me. How I fucked up. How I killed them." "Seungcheol, no!" You scold, your voice not as powerful as you'd like it to be as it breaks mid way. "You did not kill them, you hear me? It was an accident. A horrible one but it was not your fault in any way. They died honourably and think of all the others you saved, all the times you led your team out of harm successfully. Think about all the lives you have saved, all the people you have helped." Your grip is strong on his forearms as you turn him to face you fully. His eyes meet you; bleak and hopeless and the urge to wipe away all his pain soars within you. It's a shame you can't do that so you do the next best thing you can think of.

You pull him in a tight hug. You wrap yourself around him, resting your chin over his shoulder as you close your eyes and hold him tight, the act a bit hard due his huge build. For several long moments he doesn't hug you back until you finally feel his warm hands creep on your back as he rests his face against your neck, cocooning your body with his.

You swallow a sob and blink furiously to drive away the tears, your hands stroking his hair in gentle motions. "It's alright, Cheol. You are going to be just fine. It is all going to be okay."

His response is to hold you tighter and you welcome his vulnerability, his pain and agony with open arms, breathing it in as if it is your own. Long moments are spent as you two remain in each other's embrace until you finally sit back to take a look at him.

"Maybe you should talk to a therapist?"

"I did," he sighs, running a hand through his soft locks. "After the accident, I saw one for almost a year. I was prescribed so many medicines and I almost got addicted to them even though they weren't doing much to help. So I decided to quit altogether and moved here, in his cabin. I stayed here for about six months, trying to pull myself together before an old friend of mine called, asking if I wanted to join his private security company. I agreed because I couldn't live in solitude any longer without killing myself and now, I'm here." You nod, watching him intently as you two sit with mere inches of space between each other's faces. In the back of your mind, you realize that this is the most intimate you have been with Seungcheol and probably you will ever get to be so you can't help but speak the next words. "You are so beautiful, Seungcheol. Inside and out. You are such an amazing person.I only wish you would know that." Your words can barely be heard because you speak so softly but it contains emotions from the deepest, rawest part of your heart. Sitting with him on the floor, in the middle of the night at a cabin in the woods, talking about your deepest traumas and secrets is something you never thought you would experience but now you realise, it is a treasure, a moment of profoundness that you will carry close to your heart for the rest of your life.

Seungcheol's eyes widen for a fraction upon hearing your words before he shifts, trying to pull away from you but your strong grip on his hands stops him. Once again, you find yourself confessing. "Ever since you've come to my life, I feel hopeful, even though we are going through so much trouble. I want to live again and I feel happy and hopeful when I look at you. And I can never thank you enough for that."

Seungcheol's Adams apple bobs as he swallows and the expression on his face is so vivid you realize you have left him speechless. A small, shy smile sets on your lips as you squeeze his hands softly, your thumb stroking over his bruised knuckles.  While your mind swoons over how tender this moment is and how beautiful he looks and how soft his lips appear, he inches his face closer to you before pressing his lips against yours.

At first, you believe it's a dream.

It is bound to be, no?

Blinking multiple times, you make sure that it in fact is not a dream but it seems to take too long because Seungcheol is pulling away from you, the apology right there at the tip of his tongue. However, you do not let him speak the words he doesn't mean. Instead, you do what you have only done in your late night fantasies, you cup his cheeks and pull his face down to yours, meeting his lips in a fierce kiss. You do not even think of holding back, pouring every bit of passion and need and admiration for him into it. 

Thankfully, he reciprocates, cupping your neck and jaw, tilting your face for better access. 

And it's wonderland. It is everything you imagined and more, everything you want and need, everything that can heal you.

In the rosy haze of desire and desperation, your hungry hands travel down to the hem of his white t-shirt, tugging on it in a futile attempt to get it off. The action gets the attention of Seungcheol as he dettaches his lips from yours, taking a look at your face.

"_____—" he makes a weak attempt to stop you but his words die on his tongue as you hastily stand up, dragging him with him. Pressing a soft finger on his lips, you shush him as you bring your face closer to him and whisper in his ear. "Don't push me away Seungcheol, please. I need you. And you need me too."

There is a battle in his gaze as he stares at your longing visage for a moment with a clenched jaw before muttering a curse underneath his breath. The next moment, you are being carried to your bedroom and in the blink of an eye, you are standing in front of your bed with his frame towering over you.

"You wanted this?" He teases but his eyes are lit with a fire that is inextinguishable as he takes off his shirt and even in the dimly lit room, you do not miss the carved perfection of his body, littered with scars here and there. In vain hope, you pray that your face isn't visible as you ogle him but you know it is because his unrelenting stare breaks your skin into goosebumps. 

As you are stuck in a trance of lust, he takes a step closer to you before his breath grazes your ear. "Lift your hands, angel."

The next moment, he pulls your nightshirt off your body, leaving you only in your sleeping shorts. He wastes no time, attacking them right next as they come off with a tug and you fall into your bed. You have no time to overthink or feel shy because Seungcheol cages your body underneath his as he crawls to you, a dark look of hunger on his face. 

"You are a fucking temptress, you know that?" He grunts, a calloused thumb reaching out to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyes falling closed at the contact as a soft sigh escapes your lips but the next moment Seungcheol is grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heated kiss. 

It's all teeth and tongue as he devours your mouth, two tongues entangled in a fierce rhythm of tango before finally letting you gasp for air.  "Crawl up," his voice is that of a quiet command which you follow instantly, letting him sit comfortably on his knees as he spreads your legs wide.

The very next moment a squeak leaves your mouth as Seungcheol pushes his index finger inside you, your wetness granting easy access. He makes a noise, something akin to an animalistic groan as his digit easily slips inside. 

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he murmurs as he inserts another finger and then another before curling them inside you.

"Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing the sheets as your hips lift off the mattress due to the electrifying jolt of pleasure. Your reaction makes him grunt as he fastens his face and you feel your legs tremble, making you think that you are going to come already. 

Your core tightens around his fingers as more wetness leaks from you, only amplified when he brushes his thumb against your clit. Another gasp and a shudder of your body makes Seungcheol smirk as he whispers, "Gonna come, angel?"

You nod your head aggressively, your hips chasing his fingers in their own rhythm and just as the tingles of your release soars in your body, Seungcheol removes his fingers.

"No!" Your protest is immediate but the man only gives you a cruel smile as he makes a show of licking his fingers clean. The act itself is extremely hot and you cannot help but release another groan of frustration. 

"Seungcheol! Please let me—"

"You are gonna lie back and let me eat your pussy now, hmm? After I'm satisfied, I will let you come." He announces, lips hovering over your thighs, the touch of his warm breath giving your goosebumps. The low gravel of his voice paired with the way he keeps looking at you from between your thighs makes you swallow thickly before lying your head back into the pillow, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

"Good girl."

Good girl.

Your core clenches deliciously.  However, you do not get to soak in the warmth of his praise because the next moment he flicks your clit with his tongue and your scream pierces the night air. Your body writhes while he holds your thighs open in a strong grip, incoherent gasps and curses of pleasure falling from your lips. Seungcheol is like a man starved, as he eats you out mercilessly, his tongue going deep inside your most intimate parts. You can't remain still, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as your body shakes and pleas fall from your lips.

"Oh f-fuck! Seungcheol! Please!" 

You yourself do not know what you are begging for. It's the sweetest torture, one you want to end but also continue forever.

Your release has wet your inner thighs and paired with Seungcheol's saliva they drip down to your asshole but Seungcheol doesn't stop. He brings his attention to your hard, swollen clit now which he flicks repeatedly with his tongue.

"Fuck! I can't! Please let me come!" You are convinced your voice can be heard from miles away. "You wanna come?" He grunts between breaths, voice muffled.

"Yes, yes! Please!"

"Then come. Come for me, my angel." The command has your toes curling as he gives a harsh suck to your clit and in an instant, you go off like a firework. The heated coil in your belly snaps as your body twitches, sending you headfirst into an orgasm so good, so deep, tears drip down your eyes. All through it, Seungcheol keeps sucking your pussy, almost making you numb before stopping with a final, sloppy kiss on your clit and sitting back.

Even in the darkness, you see his lips shine with your release.

"You are an aphrodisiac, angel." His words caress your skin as he leans forward and presses soft, tantalising kisses on your jaw and down your throat. 

"Please, fuck me now," your voice is a cry of plea as you chase his lips for a kiss. He entertains you, tangling your mouths in an embrace of passion as you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands moves down amidst the kiss and your foggy brain registers that he's taking off his sweatpants. 

With a soft groan he takes off his lips from yours and frees himself from your entangled limbs, standing up to kick his boxers and sweatpants down his legs. 

And oh dear lord is he a view. You admire him in his nakedness in the half lit room, drinking every inch of him. You can't stray your eyes from his cock, hard and leaking as you gulp and send a prayer to the sky, marvelling at his size.

Seungcheol crawls back into the bed, his movements akin to the grace of a panther, his eyes lit with ferocity and huger as he pins both your wrists over your head with one hand.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you will be ruined for any other man." He promises, giving you a delicious shiver on your spine. You want to scream that you don't need any other man, you never will but the thought dies in your mind when you feel his tip prodding at your core.  He slides in easily, almost embarrassingly easy as your sopping cunt welcomes him with wide open arms. A guttural groan escapes from his throat as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, spewing curses. The sound makes you clench around him which makes him curse again.

"You are so fucking tight, fuck!"

You can only respond in an incoherent hum as he starts moving inside you, making you throw your head back and let out a loud moan. He raises his head to look at you and your eyes contact and in a second, everything becomes more intense. The look in his eyes is ever captivating and ruthless while he pistons in and out of you tirelessly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you perfectly each time.

"You're going to be the death of me." He whispers, almost as if he's talking to himself. His mouth works on your jaw, moving down to your throat and sucking harshly on the soft flesh, making you shudder in pleasure. "Seungcheol!" You cry. "Harder! Please!"

"Any harder and I'll come right now."

"Do it! Come inside me!" All other thoughts and worries have left your mind and beg him for more, already cock drunk.

"Fuck, you sure?"

"I'm on pills, Cheol. I'm sure," you pant, clutching onto his back as he increases his pace, leaning back to sit on his knees as his hands move to your waist, holding you in a bruising grip.

"Gonna fill you up then, angel. Make this pussy bleed my come." He promises with a snark, his eyes trained on your face as he delivers one particular thrust that has you arching off the bed and seeing stars.

Then there is a brush of touch on your hard clit and a quiet command of coming which has fireworks exploding all throughout your body. You cry out, from pleasure and pain so addictive that white spots dance in your vision, hands twisting the fabric of the bedsheet so hard it would be no surprise if they tore.  The next moment you feel Seungcheol release inside you and the feeling of his warm cum coating your insides gives your body another round of shivers as you completely blank out. You are transported to a hazy place where you feel like you are floating through the air as you lose all sense of connection from this world.

It takes a while for you to recover and once you do, you realise Seungcheol has slumped over next to you as his breathing gradually returns to normal. You turn your head slightly to look at him and just as your eyes meet, he makes a move to get up.  Your hand immediately latches onto his arm. "Don't go." You croak.

"I need to clean you up." His voice is quiet.

"Later." You whisper, begging with your eyes. "Just lay with me for a while." He remains still for a moment, probably battling with himself before lying back next to you. He stretches one of his arms and you quickly use it as a pillow, shuffling closer to his body and resting your palm on his chest. Seungcheol tenses next to you but you don't let it get to you as your hand gently strokes an old scar right beneath his chest. Just as you are almost falling asleep, you feel his hand wrap around your waist, holding you softly and a smile graces your lips.

I love you, Choi Seungcheol.

— The next morning, Seungcheol starts avoiding you like you are the plague. As soon as you step out of your bedroom, Seungcheol, who was sitting in the living area quite literally bolts outside with his laptop and everything, throwing a curt good morning to you and not even sparing a glance.

You are hurt, to say the least. While a silly part of you expected that maybe you would wake up with him in the same bed and have breakfast together before some more lovemaking, the realistic part of you did not expect him to act like this. 

Like nothing happened.

Or worse, acting like what happened was a mistake.

Does he really think that last night was a mistake? 

It hurts to even think that he might believe that so you push that thought away with all your might. Instead, you focus on making yourself a nice breakfast before soaking in the tub for a while as you try to focus all your attention on plotting your uncles demise.

Once you are nice and clean after the soak, you find Seungcheol in the kitchen, drinking something from his mug as he talks over the phone with someone. You wait for him to finish, using the spare time to admire how good he looks— slightly messy hair, an old grey t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Once again, your mind travels to how good he railed you last night but before it can travel too far, you shake yourself back to the present.

"I need to talk to you." You announce as soon as he sets his phone down. Seungcheol's head snaps up to your voice and a grim expression settles on his face before he murmurs. 

"There's nothing to talk about. Last night was an accident. We were both vulnerable and it just... happened." It's like someone ripped your beating heart off of your chest or dumped you into a bucket of ice or better yet, did that together. Yet it still wouldn't hurt as much as his words pierce through you right now, leaving you utterly speechless as you just blink repeatedly, trying to make sure you heard that right. "It was not an accident, Seungcheol. You know it." Your voice is deathly quiet and you can feel yourself on the precipice of snapping.

"The hell it wasn't, _____." He snaps. "I am your fucking bodyguard and you are my client. I am not getting paid to take advantage of you!"

"Take advantage of me?" You seethe as an overwhelming urge to punch something, like his face, overcomes you. You have to take a deep breath in to form the next words. "I am not some helpless, pathetic girl that you can take advantage of. Whatever happened last night was real and with our consent. The man last night was the real you, the one you keep hiding, not this!" Seungcheol clenches his jaw, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Either way, it should not have happened. We, you and me—" he points between the two of you. "It does not work. It won't."

"Seungcheol— "

"That's enough _______."

"No, tell me. Enlighten me, please," Your voice drips with sarcasm as you take a step towards him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. "Why do we not work? What delightful, eye opening information has been revealed upon you which led you to this wise conclusion?" The twitch in his jaw clearly tells you that he does not appreciate your sarcasm but you've had enough of his stubbornness, especially when it is clear that he wants you as well.

"So far, I'll I've heard is that I can't have you not, I don't want you. Quit playing games with yourself Seungcheol!"

"I am a fucking loose grenade!" His scream is abrupt, making you jolt. The veins in his neck pop out as he steps back, his frantic eyes glaring at you. "I cannot keep you safe! Not from myself. I am a man whose past haunts him. I can't fucking sleep at night without getting nightmares and smashing things! I cannot pass a day without the guilt of my past following me! I am headed towards hell and I cannot drag you down with me. I am not the man for you, _____, try to understand!"

"I think that's for me to decide, no?" You take another step towards him, trying to calm him down.

"No!" He yells, stepping back. "Enough! Just— enough. This conversation is over. I'm going out and when I return, we will pretend that none of this ever happened."

"You fucking asshole!"  You normally do not curse.  Out loud at least. Your mother had a strict rule of no bad language and you and your brother followed that rule to a t. No matter what you have encountered so far in your life, nothing gave you the urge to curse half as much as you want to right now.

"That's right. I am an asshole." He states calmly, sparing you a blank look before turning and heading for the main door.

"You fucking son of a bitch! I did not want to talk about this in the first place! When I said I need to talk with you, I meant about my uncle, you idiot!"

He stops in his tracks before slowly turning his head to look at you. "What about him?" His calmness makes you absolutely livid and even though you try your hardest to form words, the only thing your tongue seems to want to utter are curse words.

"It doesn't concern you anymore, asswipe." Seungcheol's lips form a thin line as he watches you quietly for a few moments.

"Do not do anything stupid,_____." He has the nerve to order you before marching out of the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"Go to hell, dickhead!" —

The rest of the day is uneventful as you two mind your own business, avidly avoiding each other. After Seungcheol leaves and blesses you with solitude you pace around the house angrily before going for a walk in the forest behind the cabin.

It is not dense or uncomfortable as a walking trek has been premade and you take a long walk which helps you clear your head just a bit. It takes your mind off of your stubborn bodyguard and back onto your uncle as you think of ways to trap him in a position he cannot easily get out of, as early as possible. With the plan you have in mind, it proves to be a bit hard, because you are staying in the middle of nowhere and your uncle has no clue where you are.

You walk home an hour later with a less obscure mind and send Chan a text through the burner phone, letting him know that you are alive and well. 

Your brother video calls you soon after and you almost forget that you are supposed to be mute at the joy of seeing your brother. It kills you that you have to lie to him but you bite your teeth and do it, telling him that work got too overwhelming and you are taking some days off and promise him of your quick return. You know your brother is not stupid and he has started doubting you but he is kind enough not to push you for more, which you are grateful for.

Seungcheol returns home a little after noon with more supplies. You act like he does not exist as you finish your lunch and retire to your room where you spend the rest of the day, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing. As the skies bleed to dark, dinner time rolls around and you two eat separately. Once again, Seungcheol makes no attempt to talk to you or acknowledge you just like you are doing but it still infuriates you, which you try to control by doing copious amounts of yoga in your room, before finally falling asleep quite late.

However, disaster strikes with the arrival of dawn, as the first rays of sun kiss the sky. 

You are snapped out of sleep as you open your eyes and find Seungcheol hovering over you, shaking you awake.

"Wake up, _____! Your uncle is here. He found us!"

Immediately you bolt upright, half thinking that all this is a vivid dream. As your panicked eyes meet his, your shaky hands clutching his biceps and you whisper. "W-what? How? I- I don't understand."

"I don't know either." Seungcheol grunts, craning his neck to look out the window. "There are two jeeps heading towards us. You need to get out."

As if on cue, you hear the loud roar of the engines as they come to a stop right in front of the cabin. Seungcheol helps your shaky form out of bed and ushers you down the stairs. 

"Take the back exit. Hide in the forest until I come for you. If I don't, call Jihoon for help. His number is here. And take this." he explains, handing his burner phone and a gun to you but your brain is stuck in a loop, not processing that there is a fucking gun in your hand.

"What do you mean if I don't? You are coming with me—"

"No. I will hold them off while you escape. Go, now." He orders, pushing you towards the back door of the kitchen. 

"_____! I know you're in there! Come out while I am being nice and maybe we can come to an agreement! You do not want to end up like your mother, do you now?" Your body freezes as you hear your uncle yell from the front door. The anger evoked from his words makes you want to stay and confront him but Seungcheol keeps pushing you, telling you to run.

And so, sparing one last longing look at Seungcheol, you tuck your weapon in your waist and run. You have not gotten even fifty feet away from the cabin when the first round of shots echo through the air. Your blood freezes as you come to a halt, turning your head around to look at the cabin as gunshots echo through the air.

You have to swallow a lump in your throat as tears gather in your eyes, the temptation to go back increasing. But you know going back is not a good idea because it will put Seungcheol's life at risk, more than it already is. So you keep moving deeper into the forest, the treks familiar because you have been here before and you make your way through very easily. When you come across a small cliff shrouded by thick bushes you decide to hide there, waiting to see if your uncle's men come around here. Confirming your guess, they do, after a while as they jog through, looking around for you. However, they fail to estimate your hiding place and continue deeper into the forest down the trek and just then, an idea forms in your head.

You have to go back.

The universe is on your side because you realise after some peeking around and shuffling through trees that there is another road that you can use to go back to the cabin. This one is definitely unused and riskier but you are determined to make this work. So, with a deep breath you jog through the narrow, muddy lane and soon enough, you find your way back.

The cabin is now quiet, eerily so.

The back door remains open, granting you access and you carefully step one foot in, holding your breath. 

It is a mess; bullet holes scattered around, a few bodies slumped on the ground, specks of blood all over the floor. The scene is bone chilling and you have to take several deep breaths to calm down. You can hear noises coming from somewhere in the house, grunts and yells, as if people are fighting, which is what is undoubtedly happening. No matter how severe your urge is to follow the sound and make sure Seungcheol is okay, you decide against it, putting faith in his capabilities instead and sending a prayer out to heaven. Careful not to step on any blood, you make your way through the mess and gingerly climb up the stairs, pausing to make sure no one is around. The coast is clear, thankfully, as no one is upstairs and you head straight for the little storeroom next to the bedroom, where you kept the very little belongings you brought with you.

You took special care to hide your prized possession, the evidence file. It stays secure inside a special compartment Seungcheol showed you that is situated under the wooden floor. Quickly removing the carpet, you open the hatch and look inside to make sure the files are there.

And they are, thankfully. Picking them up, you hold them to your chest and close the hatch, putting everything in its place while holding your breath through all of it. In the next second, the voice you dreaded echoes through the air.

"I believe I am going to need that, _____." 

You whip your head back to see your dear uncle standing at the door frame, lips twisted in a diabolic smirk like he got you just where he wanted to.  "I knew you would lead me to the evidence, niece. I just had to wait. And I knew you would contact your dear little brother no matter what so I put a little tracker on his phone and it led me here. Easy, no?" He shakes his head,  laughing cockily at his plan.

Your blood runs cold as your fingers grip the envelope tightly.

"Over my dead body." You hiss.

"Oh yeah, and my men told me you could speak?" He taunts, shaking his head some more. "Can you imagine my surprise when I heard that? Tell me, were you faking it all along? To what, get some pity points?"

"You will rot in jail, asshole. I will personally see to it." You seethe, clutching the folder tighter against your chest.  Your uncle's face loses its amusement as he stares at you for a while, cold and unblinking before reaching back and pulling out a gun. Your heart skips a beat as he points it right at you.

"The file, ______. I am not here to play games."

"Never." There is an immediate deafening noise of gunfire, making you squeeze your eyes shut and for a horrible moment, you think he has shot you. Opening your eyes, you see there's a hole in the roof where he has aimed his gun before pointing it back at you.

"Don't make me kill you like your mother. I need you alive for all the other plans I have."

"She was your sister in law!" You cry.

"She was a thorn in my way!" He seethes. "A conniving bitch trying to take the company from me and my son! Always challenging me! Always speaking against me!"

"It was never yours to begin with, you ugly old man! She knew you would steal it from us!"

"I dare you to speak one more word and the next bullet will be in your hand and the one after that will be in your leg. I won't do the mercy of killing you, _____. I will put you through hell on earth before I grant you the freedom of death." He sneers, eyes fueled with hatred. You swallow, your breath coming out in heavy pants as you decide on what to do next. 

Finally, with a defeated sigh you raise your arms in surrender and take a small, tiny step towards him, trying to appear as meek and harmless as possible. "You could have not killed her. You could have sent her away if she was a problem." You whisper, voice cracking. "Huh," he scoffs. "As if that bitch would listen. The only way was to get rid of her. For good. I knew she would be in the car with you that day and I planned to kill two birds with one stone but alas, that didn't happen" He shrugs, pouting. "It's alright, though. I know how to use it in my favour. I have so many plans for you. You're gonna come with me and sign off—"

"Drop the gun, Jin."

Seungcheol!

It is Seungcheol, pointing his Glock at the back of Jin's head as he appears behind him all of a sudden. You are flooded with gratitude so big tears come to your eyes and hope flares in your chest seeing him alive, hurt and dishevelled but alive. However, your hope is quick to die down when Jin speaks the next words.

"You sure you wanna do that, son?" Your uncle remains unaffected as he slightly turns his head, his words directed to Seungcheol. "You pull the trigger and by the time it has hit me I can pull the trigger as well and her brains will be splattered all over these walls. You don't want that, do you? Besides, I know as a matter of fact your boss here wants me alive. She has grand plans for me, is that not right, _____?"

His eyes pan back to you, the evilest of smiles on his face as you grit your teeth, trying to keep yourself from doing anything rash.

You underestimated your uncle for sure.

"Drop the gun, son. I won't say it again." He orders, taking a menacing step towards you. "You drop it and nobody gets hurt. I need this bitch alive for everything I have planned." Seungcheol's eyes meet yours and the helplessness and frustration is visible in them. You watch with bated breath as he slowly points the gun away from Jin's head and sets it down on the ground, raising his hands in surrender. A satisfied smile sets on your uncle's face and he lets his guard down for a moment, a fraction of a second, which Seungcheol takes advantage of.  In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol jumps on him, grabbing his legs and dragging him down onto the floor. His grip on the gun falters, letting it fall on the floor and as he makes a move to reach for it, Seungcheol kicks it to the farthest corner of the room.

A scuffle between them ensues and Seungcheol tries to overpower Jin and pin him down onto the floor. However, your uncle, the master of playing dirty, manages to pull a switchblade from his pocket and slashes Seungcheol on the arm, making him fall off of him. "I'm gonna fucking gut you, you son of a bitch!" He yells, charging for Seungcheol as he pins him down, aiming the blade towards his throat but Seungcheol stops him with a practised move. An intense battle of power ensues but you've had enough as you reach  for the gun Seungcheol gave you, tucked at your waistband.

Pointing it straight at Jin's head, you yell. "Drop the knife, Jin! I really don't want to kill you!"

"You don't have the balls to shoot me, bitch!" He yells back, not even glancing at you, busy subduing Seungcheol as he stabs him in the shoulder. That motherfucker!

He underestimated you greatly.

Furious, you pull the trigger and the bullet lands right where you aimed it, Jin's knee. With a howl of pain, he falls off of Seungcheol who quickly gets back up and wraps an arm around his throat in a chokehold.

"You filthy little bitch! You fucking —"

Seungcheol tightens the grip on his neck and after struggling for a few moments, Jin passes out, making you sigh in relief as you step back and lean against the wall. "You shot him." Seungcheol's voice is laced with bewilderment as he watches you with a look of surprise and admiration. "Self defence," you shrug, closing your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Tie him up. I'll call the police."

— Fifteen minutes later the cops arrive with blaring sirens followed by an ambulance. 

As soon as the ambulance comes to a stop, you are dragging Seungcheol towards it, yelling at the staff to get a look at his shoulder, around which you have wrapped a cloth to lessen the bleeding. As a responder attends to Seungcheol's injury, two policemen rush into the house when you tell them that the culprit is tied up inside. 

You stand out front with your arms crossed, the morning sun now high in the sky, the warm rays caressing your face as you watch your uncle being dragged out of the house and into one of the police cars. He is yelling and cursing his complaints, his eyes filled with hatred as they come in contact with yours. 

Your body goes rigid, the revelation coming upon you that he is done for and he knows it. You know he is definitely going to deny everything but he has another surprise coming his way.

An officer comes to you, talking about the next procedures and asking basic questions but you cannot quite register his words as your body finally gets off the high of adrenaline and realisation hits you like a bulldozer, it's over.

It is over. You got him. 

I got him, Mom. I will make him pay.

Seungcheol, who sits at the back of the ambulance while a nurse gives his shoulder a temporary fix, listens to the officer carefully, answering his questions in your place before thanking him as he takes his leave. 

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's uninjured hand comes up to gently touch your arm, making you jump as you are snapped out of your reverie.

"Would you like me to look at you, ma'am? The responder offers as she takes off her gloves. "You look pale." You shake your head, swallowing as you wrap your arms around yourself. Seungcheol gives your hand a tug, making you sit next to him.  "Please take a look at her." He says to the nurse, who nods while he shrugs off the blanket sitting on his shoulder and wraps it around yours with his free hand. 

"Breathe, _____." He speaks softly, his hand holding yours. You nod, focusing on your breath for the next few minutes as the nurse does a quick check up on you. There are a lot of unshed tears within you and a lot of emotions you need to let out but you just cannot bring yourself to do that right now. There is this numb feeling all over you accompanied by an overwhelmingness.

And you know very well the war isn't over just yet. You have to make sure your uncle ends up behind bars. Even though you have some control over your emotions right now, you remember that you have to explain every hideous detail to Chan and you know will break down then. You know you will break down again when you visit your mother's grave but you know this time, you will feel less guilty of being the only one surviving, less in agony because you have avenged her.

"I have called my lawyer. He's preparing all the documents. We should head home now." You speak, eyes staring at the sun shining over the hills and the lush greenery.

This place is magical. You want to come here again, someday.

"Okay," Seungcheol agrees as his hand comes to rest over yours and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes pan back to his face, littered with cuts before settling on his shoulder.  You open your mouth to scold him for getting hurt when he sighs. "What were you thinking, _____? I told you not to come back to the cabin. Your uncle had you just where he wanted. You could have been seriously hu—

"I had a plan, Seungcheol."

"What plan?" He looks annoyed. A soft smile graces your lips as your hand travels to the front pocket of your shirt. You pick the pen sitting there and hand it to Seungcheol with a mischievous smile. Frowning, he examines the item carefully until it dawns on him as his eyes widen. "This has a camera!"

"Yep! It can record audio and video very clearly. I had it on me for a while and as I was hiding in the forest I suddenly realised that I couldn't get better proof against my uncle than right then. So I went back to be the bait."

"Still, you don't realise how risky—"

"Trust me, I do. But I had no option. Besides, my gut told me that my uncle really didn't want to kill me unless he had to because after everything that happened, I was more valuable to him alive than dead." Seungcheol stares at you, all a loss for words before shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Wanna know something more fun?"

"What?" He is wary. "The documents I hid? They are not the real ones!" You cannot hold back a laugh as Seungcheol looks as you, more perplexed than before.

"I mean, come on! I'm not that stupid! I wouldn't carry them with me knowing my uncle is looking for them! I hid the original files in Chan's safe after I had him promise me not to touch them."

"Wow…" Seungcheol shakes his head in utter disbelief as he tries to wrap his head around everything. "Still, if I hadn't come for you on time…"

"I knew you would, Seungcheol. I believed that deep in my heart." You whisper, fingers lacing with his as your eyes meet. Seungcheol swallows and looks away, blinking. With a soft sigh, you stand up. "Are you sure you can travel this long in the car? Should I call in a helicopter for you?" Seungcheol rolls his eyes, standing up as well. "It's a fucking graze, _____. I have had way worse and I survived. I will be fine. I already feel fine." Your eyes narrow at him and you want to reprimand him but you cannot find it in your heart to do so. With a sigh, you usher him towards the car. "Let's go then. I'll drive."

— The next 48 hours pass by in the blink of an eye as you go through the most hectic time of your life. 

The first thing you do upon entering the city is sit down with your lawyer for a detailed discussion on the next steps you are going to take and hand the video recording to him. After that you ask Chan to come over to your place where you explain everything to him from a to z. It proves to be one of the worst moments of your life as you watch your brother's face pale with every word you utter and by the time you finish explaining everything he goes as still as a statue before abruptly taking his leave.

The next day you are asked to give a statement to the police along with Seungcheol which takes quite a while as you explain everything in detail. During that time the news breaks about your uncle getting arrested and charged for both murder and attempted murder leading to a flock of reporters chasing you down wherever you go. 

The stocks of the company are also affected as a side effect of the scandal and you have to spend a good amount of time in the office as you try to reassure everyone and get everything under control with your business partners.

On the third day after Jin's arrest, the police officially read out all the charges against him and announce the dates of the trials which sends the press into a second round of frenzy as they try to get your opinion on it, mobbing you whenever you step outside.

Your father is also taken in for questioning where he, thankfully, admits to his crimes and then he is also arrested with the charge of withholding information. He claims that his brother was blackmailing him so he had to keep the murder a secret. Whatever his reason was, you do not care anymore.

You refrain from engaging with the press as much as possible, other than the press conference arranged by your company that you had to attend but you do not make any comments about your uncle or father, just announcing that they will be punished accordingly and you and your brother will do your utmost best to protect the company. 

Amid all of this, Seungcheol refuses to leave your side, even with his injured shoulder. 

The wound was not deep but he was advised not to move the shoulder too much, an instruction he didn't pay any heed to when he was protecting you from the fleet of reporters. Taking it a step further than that, he called his friend over from the agency, the man called Jihoon, to be your second bodyguard because he believed that he was not functioning at his best.

Overall, it turns out to be a crazy, sleep deprived but exciting few days as you see all the pieces of the puzzle fall into its rightful place.

What is not exciting, however, is the straining relationship between you and your brother. After your confession to everything, he grows quieter and avoids talking with you unless it's absolutely necessary, which you understand and respect. He is processing the murder of his mother and his family members' participation in it and you also understand he feels betrayed because you kept so much information from him.

Still, it hurts.

This is why it is a surprise when you see him walk through the double doors to your office on a weekday morning as you were going through the legal statements of the company. "Chan!" You gasp, rising from your chair, eyes wide open in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He gives a half hearted shrug before sitting down on the couch by the floor to ceiling windows, his gaze focused on the skyline.  "I had some things to tell you." Okay... You chew on your lip as you walk over to him and take a seat in front of him. You watch your brother stare off into the distance out the window before he finally heaves a long sigh and looks at you. The sadness and exhaustion are clear in his eyes and it breaks your heart. This whole media circus has not been easy for him either, especially because he knew nothing of what was going on and the press attacked him like a bunch of piranhas.

"The week has been crazy for you." He states, matter of factly. 

You give him a small, sad smile. "Same goes for you."

"Yes. I am feeling a lot of emotions together however..." he stops for a second before boring his gaze at your eyes. "I cannot help but feel betrayed."

"Oh Chan—"

"No, it's okay." He holds up his hand, stopping you. "I know that was not your intention and it is not your fault. It is none of our fault. I feel betrayed by this... family, this situation. I feel so angry that all of this happened right under my nose and I—" he huffs, dragging a hand through his hair as his voice fades. "I knew nothing about it."

"It is not your fault."

"It kind of is." He grunts. "I...I should have been more careful, more aware—"

"You couldn't have prevented it, Chan. It would only get you hurt in the process."

"Exactly! It would and that's how it should be. We're a team, you and I. So I should be equally responsible but only you got hurt in this process. You have been carrying all this burden with you since the accident. Not to mention the crazy stunt at the cabin. Are you insane, _____? I saw the video and he had a gun for fucks sake!"

"So did I!" You admonish. "Besides, he wasn't going to shoot me."

"You couldn't be sure!"

You drag out a sigh in surrender as you admire your brother for a silent moment as he suddenly reminds you of Seungcheol. "Whatever it was, it's in the past and I am safe now. However, I am sorry. For lying to you, for keeping you in the dark."

"Yes, I am actually quite mad at you for acting mute in front of me." He narrows his gaze at your face. 

"Well at least you learned sign language because of it!"

He snorts and you chuckle, a more comfortable silence falling between the two of you as you stare at each other for a while with melancholic smile on your faces. After a while, he announces, "I am going away for a while."

"What? Where?" You gasp.

"I don't know where, actually. Somewhere with a beach and lots of sunshine maybe. Away from…here." He smiles faintly. "I just...I need to be away for a while and process everything and simply be in my own company. I just need some time, sis." Tears shine in your eyes. "I understand." You whisper.  You really do but it still pains you because you feel responsible for breaking his heart.

"Take all the time you need. I'll handle the business while you are gone."

"Good. I know you will manage it well, maybe even better than me," he gives you a smile, a real one that reflects the shine in his eyes and you mirror it back. He stands up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Oh, by the way, what is going on between you and your hunk of a bodyguard?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" You feign innocence, avoiding his gaze, surprised at his observation. "Oh please." He gives you an it-is-very-obvious look. "The chemistry between you two has been explosive from day one. You always have that dreamy look in your eyes when you look at him."

"I do not!" You gasp. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." He shakes his head in mirth. You huff out a dejected breath of surrender. "It doesn't matter anyway. He doesn't want me."

"Should I beat him up?" He asks casually, making you snort.

"You would lose, you know." You roll your eyes. That makes him laugh before he takes a step towards you. "I would deprive you of a hug but since you are already heartbroken, come here." 

You immediately get up and wrap your arms around your brother in a tight hug. You sniff, holding back tears as he pats you in the back, and you whisper. "I will miss you. Text me every now and then."

"Will do," he promises with a smile, pulling back and squeezing your shoulder. As he starts walking, he yells over his shoulder, "Do not think of getting married to that hunk while I'm not here though!"

"Yes, sir!" Rolling your eyes, you yell back and watch him walk out the double doors before plopping back on the couch, an eerie feeling of emptiness settling in your chest.

It takes a while for you to realise that tears are streaming down your face. Upon realisation, you simply hang your head low, letting them flow and stare at the floor, vision blurry as you play back the events of the last 6 months in your head. 

A soft knock at the door makes you snap your head up, breaking your trance as you quickly swipe your fingers below your eyes, head turning to see who enters. 

It's Seungcheol, composed in poise and grace as he steps inside before coming to a stand beside you. Silently, he asks for permission to sit, something you have told him multiple times not to do and when you give him a nod he takes a seat opposite to you. "You have been crying," he states quietly as he regards you with a knotted brow. You sigh and blink a couple of times before asking. "I'm fine now. What's the update? Any problems?"

He shakes his head. "Things are under good so far. You still need to give a formal statement at the fundraisers event next week, so you have to prepare for that."

"Hmm," you nod. "What brings you here, then? Are you feeling okay? I told you to take a day..." Your voice fades as you watch him produce a white rectangular envelope from his pocket and push it towards you on the table.

You have a sinking feeling in your chest that it is a resignation letter. 

"I am submitting my letter of resignation." He says, as calmly as ever, his eyes straight on yours. Your mouth opens but fails to deliver the words as you tilt your head to the side, processing this action. 

You have no problem with him resigning. In fact, you had planned to fire him after this hellish week ends so that you two could have a discussion about where your relationship stands, without all these professional restrictions limiting you. However, knowing Seungcheol, you have a sinking suspicion that he isn't quitting so that he can address his feelings for you but so that he can escape. 

Still, you decide to feign ignorance.

"Good. I was planning on firing you anyway. Not that you were bad at your job, you were the best but you need to rest, Seungcheol. And I have Jihoon now so I'll be fine." You nod as you pretend to go through his letter but inside, your hearts thuds so loudly you are afraid it will burst. 

"As of today, I am relieving you of your duties, Choi Seungcheol." You offer him a shaky smile. Seungcheol nods, his face as impassive as ever and you just cannot tell if he is heartbroken or relieved. His body language tells you that he is ready to get up and leave but you do not let that happen so easily.

"Now we can finally talk about our relationship." You speak, trying to keep your voice as stable as possible. Seungcheol visibly tenses as his face loses some of its colour and immediately you know this is not going to end well. 

But you are adamant on seeing this through.

"There is nothing to talk about." His voice is quiet, almost inaudible as he sits there looking like a petulant child lying to his parents. You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. 

"You can do many things, Seungcheol but you cannot lie to me." You keep your voice as gentle as you can.

Your ex bodyguard seems to agree as he lets out a dejected sigh and stares at the floor very attentively. You watch him with intent for a few long moments, giving him time but ultimately when he remains as stubborn and unmoving as a mule, you break the silence. 

"I will lay all my cards on the table, Seungcheol, since you can't seem to do that. I have feelings for you, Seungcheol. Feelings that are very, very deep and real and I'm willing to act on them. Do what is necessary to make this work— make us work." 

He is quick to disagree. "Those feelings that you talk about, they are not love, ____. It is temporary. The last few weeks have been intense and it's just your body's natural reaction —"

"Do you love me, Choi Seungcheol?" You interrupt him, looking him straight in the eye.  The man looks like he swallowed a sock and you would feel bad for him, maybe even laugh at his reaction if the situation was not so dire.

"It does not matter." He looks away. You have the urge to hurl something at his head; the lamp next to you seems very tempting, but you fight it by clenching your fists a few times, trying to put yourself in his shoes.

"Seungcheol, I heard you that day in the cabin. I hear you now and I completely understand your fears. But I am here and we will work through them. It will take time but I'm ready, no matter how long it takes. I just want you, Seungcheol, and it kills me because I know you want me too yet you keep punishing yourself."

By now you have learned to read the man well and what might be easily overlooked by others comes into your notice; like how he clenches his fists and how his Adams apple bobs as he heavily swallows. The look in his eyes is that of a pure battle, one that he is fighting against himself and it's hard to watch. You are about to stand up and hold his hand when he suddenly moves onto his feet, his posture rigid as he glares down at you.

"I do not want you. What happened at the cabin was a mere moment of weakness. And you don't want me either, ______. You will soon realize it."

This gaslighting asshole!

"So you are going to lie to yourself till the very end?" You hiss, standing up and stepping closer to him, meeting his eyes with an equal glare.  "If anyone is lying to themselves here, it is you." He spits. "Our relationship was supposed to be professional from the start. I am a bodyguard and you are merely one of my protectees. Let us end it that way." He takes a step back while you watch him with a flabbergasted expression at his audacity. He uses your moment of weakness to say. "It was nice working with you. Hopefully, you won't need me again. Goodbye, Ms. Lee." The next moment he is pushing past you as his footsteps echo on the cold marble floor, the sound similar to that of your heart as it cracks.

"If you walk away now, I will never forgive you, Seungcheol!" You yell, voice cracking as tears gather in your eyes, your gaze focused outside the window, your back facing him. No reaction comes from behind you except for the footsteps which come to a halt. 

"Do you really want to end it like this?" Your whisper is followed by silence but through the eerie quietness in the room, you know the words reach him well.

His reply comes a few seconds later, in the form of footsteps that echo farther and farther away from you followed by the sound of the door opening and then closing and then utter silence. —

The fundraiser's event is going in full swing, bustling with people when you arrive. Draped in a red silk dress and diamond jewellery you look like a million bucks but in reality you feel nothing like that and you have no desire to be here whatsoever. But you know it is necessary to make an appearance as the host because it is extremely important to show up after the scandal to assure everyone that things are going well. Except they are not. While your professional life has slowly started getting back to its normal place your personal life has plummeted because all that you have done in the past week is mope around and curse your ex bodyguard and bitch about him to your current one, Jihoon.

The best way you can describe Jihoon is a grumpy cat. He talks very little but whenever he does, he's always huffing and complaining. But you see his softer side peek through from the little acts he does for you like making sure you eat your meals properly, checking up on you after your crying session and preparing all your documents and briefing you every morning. His tsundere antics and his silent company have probably been the only driving force that has kept you sane after Seungcheol dumped you.

The event is taking place in a banquet hall in the city centre and once inside, Jihoon guides you to a private resting room where you get ready for the opening speech. "I don't think I will stay till dinner. It is okay I leave after the speech, no?" You ask Jihoon as you finish revising the script. "Maybe mingle with people a little bit. Behave like a human instead of a broken hearted ghost" he offers, his tone dry as usual. You sigh and shake your head at his reply as you smooth your dress and step forward, waiting for the emcee to call you on stage.

Once on stage, you stand behind the podium, the tireless flashes from the cameras giving you a headache and you have to try your very best to plaster a smile on your face as you greet the guests and start your speech. Jihoon stands a few feet away from you on the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd carefully as he receives constant updates in his Bluetooth. However, not even two minutes into your speech, a man causes commotion as he tries to get on the stage, yelling some nonsense about how you are a fraud and a money launderer. You are baffled as you watch the security planted at the perimeter of the stage get a hold of him and drag him out while whispers and murmurs echo among the guests.

"He looks drunk," Jihoon says as he steps close to you to make sure you are alright. "Ignore him. He shouldn't have been allowed inside. I will have a talk with—" He pauses midway in his sentence as his eyes focus on something behind you, on the other side of the stage, his pupils widening. You can barely process the change in his expression before he tugs you away and shields you with his body as you two roll off the stage.

The next moment, an explosion echoes through the air. There is a ringing in your ears as Jihoon covers you, the echoes of the blast intensifying the headache you already had. You feel disoriented as Jihoon helps you to stand up and ushers you towards the resting room backstage while you hear screams echoing from the guests, their heavy footsteps scattering all over. "Wha- what is going on?" You cry, confused as Jihoon shoves you inside the room. "It is your cousin, Jun."  What!

"Lock the door. His men have blocked the exits. I need to clear them before I come get you. Do not open this door, is that clear?" He orders you and before you can form a reply, he is gone. Confused, scared and exhausted, you fall onto the ground, head in your hands as you fail to wrap your head around the situation. Of course, you knew your cousin was sour after his father's arrest but you never thought he would go this far. What is he thinking? What does he want?

You hear commotion spread outside, things crashing and even a few gunshots. As you step closer to the door to get a better listen there is a loud bang, as if someone is trying to break in.

Absolutely terrified, you step back, frantic eyes looking around the small space for a weapon.

If you knew the night would end up like this you would have brought a fucking gun with you.

Speaking of guns, a gunshot echoes through the air, making you duck your head as you scream. Another gunshot rings through the air and you realise whoever is on the other side is trying to come inside.

You can only pray it is not your fucking cousin, who is a maniac, apparently.

A broad, mean looking thug bursts through the door just as it opens and when his eyes land on you, he points his gun at your head. "Do not think of doing anything smart, woman. If you don't want me to blow your face off, you do as I fucking tell you to." Swallowing, you nod, holding your hands up in surrender.

So this is how it goes down, huh.

The man produces a handcuff from his pocket and tosses it towards you. "Put it on your hands! Now!" With shaky hands, you pick it up and just as you are about to fasten it around one of your wrists, there is a gunshot. You are sure you have been shot as you shut your eyes tight but start to think otherwise when seconds pass and you still feel your heartbeat.

Peeking open one eye you see the thug slumped over on the floor, a clean bullet hole on the back of his head. And in the doorframe, stands Seungcheol, a gun in his hand.

Choi Seungcheol.

Wait, what? How?

Your brain is struggling to catch up as you blink again and again to make sure of his presence. Indeed, he stands there, dressed in a black suit and tie, specks of red on his white shirt as he pants heavily.

What on god's green earth—

"Come on, you need to get out!" He yells, stepping inside the room, reaching for your hand and dragging you outside with him.  You cannot get a word out as you let him lead you, absolutely thunderstruck because of his sudden presence.

What the fuck is he doing here? How did he even know what was going on?

You are so baffled that you cannot speak these thoughts out, simply following him as he carefully guides you towards the exit, his gun drawn in alertness. Just as the backyard of the venue comes into view and Seungcheol is about to usher you outside, you hear a voice yelling from the other side of the hall.

It is your cousin's voice. "Let me go you fucking assholes! I am gonna blow that bitch myself! I am gonna tear her up into fucking pieces! How dare she take what is mine! That's slut! I am gonna…" 

Seungcheol almost pushes you to move as you get stuck in a trance of his mean words. "It is okay, Jihoon has him. Come on."

As if you are functioning on autopilot, you let him guide you outside into the open field and underneath a small sitting area where fresh air finally hits you, letting you breathe in a lungful. Seungcheol informs the other security about the update over his comms as you watch him in silence. When he is done, his eyes finally meet yours and in an instant everything that had gone down in the last month flashes through your head, giving you goosebumps. 

There is a moment of silence as you watch him with a blank expression while he looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he decides to break the silence with a chuckle. "I leave you for a few days and this is what happens?" 

His tone is full of amusement. The nerve of this man. You, however, find none of this amusing. It gets your blood boiling as you hear him say the words, your brain finally registering everything and you simply cannot hold yourself back anymore. The next thing you do is strike a clean, sharp slap on his cheek which catches him off guard as he stumbles a few steps back. His eyes widen in shock, his hand moving to cup the cheek which is turning bright red, like your palm.

You poured your heart and soul and all your pent up emotions into that slap so you pray it stings like a bitch.

Your hand does for sure.

"I deserved that-" Seungcheol starts to speak, holding up his hands but the moment he opens his mouth you are on him again as you grab him by the collars, triggered, "How dare you come here, you scum!" You hiss, tugging at the fabric of his collars while a bewildered Seungcheol tries to gently pry you off of him. "How dare you have the audacity to show up after everything you said?"

"_____, you are gonna hurt yourself—"

"You quit! You made it clear that you had no interest in me, Seungcheol! So what gives you the right to come here and save me, huh?" You are seething, emotions so strong you feel like choking and if you were a cartoon character, visible steam would be coming out of your ears.

"_____, please—"

"Who gave you the right to be a hero, huh? What made you come here? Tell me! Talk, you asshole!" You yell, shaking him, tugging on his collars repeatedly as a wild rage takes over you.

You are going to murder him.

"Because I am in love with you!" He yells back, making your grip falter for a second which he uses to quickly free himself, taking a few steps back as you stare wide eyed at him, panting.

When you finally get enough air in your lungs and process his words, really process them, your wry laugh echoes through the cold night air like mockery. "Fuck you, Seungcheol. I have had enough of your bullshit." You spit, pushed to your limits.

God, give me patience.

"I know," he whispers, taking a step closer while you take one back. "I understand what I have done and I do not expect you to forgive me at all. I just need you to know that I fucking love you and I am so fucking sorry. I know I am late but I am here to stay—"

"No you are not," You snap. "Get the hell away from me before I take a gun and fucking shoot you." 

"If that's what will make you happy..." Seungcheol calmly reaches for his gun as you watch him, alarmed. He takes it off of the holster and holds it out towards you. "Shoot me as many times as you want. I deserve it.

This fucking man—

"Guys, can we do this weird foreplay somewhere else," Jihoon yells from behind you as you spin to see him jogging towards you two. "You need to get out of here, _____. He's saying that there are still explosives in this compound."

"What!" You shriek but before you can get another word out, Seungcheol is grabbing your hand and dragging you with him as he starts sprinting. "Keep me updated," he addresses Jihoon who nods, talking into the comm to get a car at the rear entrance for you.

"Let go, you asshole!" You hiss, trying to pry his fingers off your wrist which proves to be a challenge while running full speed in high heels. "God damn it, Seungcheol, I will fall!" And you almost do so, as you misstep and stumble but the man is quick to catch you and before you can even think, he is throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  "Put me down, you pig!"

"As soon as we get to the car, angel."

Which is quick, thankfully, because the next moment he is putting you down and holding the passenger side door open for you and despite wanting to resist him, you know the wise idea is to leave right now.  As soon as you are inside the car, he shuts the door before running to the other side and before you can even put your seatbelt on, the car is moving.

"Jihoon will be fine, right?" You ask half mindedly as you turn your head back to look at the venue which gets smaller every passing second. "He will be fine," Seungcheol grunts. "The police have been informed as well as the bomb disposal team." "What about my cousin?" Seungcheol remains quiet for a moment, only staring ahead on the road. "Him? He's  alive, unfortunately."

"What do you mean?" You ask warily.

"I shot him. The bullet hit his abdomen. He won't die, don't worry. That depraved asshole doesn't deserve that mercy." You sigh, rubbing your temples as you lean back into your seat. "What the hell was he thinking?"

"He wanted to hurt you, humiliate you, _____. He had plans to hurt you horribly." Seungcheol huffs out a breath, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. "He has gone insane." That is all he provides, making you fall silent for a moment. "When will this stop." You whisper to yourself. "I never considered him to be a threat."

"I should have. You locked up his father and made sure he could never take over the company. He was a huge threat that I failed to notice." He murmurs.

"Don't start, Seungcheol," you snap at him, irritated. "I'm still tempted to shoot you. Your duty was over the moment you handed in the resignation letter and walked out of my life."

"My biggest mistake." He whispers to himself but you hear it. 

Tired, frustrated, scared and angry, you decide not to engage in this conversation further as you look out the window and wonder what is coming next.  Another media storm for sure.  More interrogations, more meetings with your lawyer.  At the same time, however, the edge that you have been feeling for the last week is gone. The fact that your cousin never came up to you or tried to retaliate his father's arrest in any way made you wonder but it never occurred to you that he could turn violent, insane. 

Jun was after all a puppet, who only did things after his father made the way for him his whole life.

Today was a different case, it looks like. Anyhow, it is somewhat of a win for you because you miraculously got out unscathed and the threat has been neutralised. However, you are sure many have been injured and your reputation has taken a severe hit today. The upcoming months will be very hard, harder than before…

The next coherent thought that comes upon you is that you fell asleep. You open your eyes realising that the car has stopped and the time on the dashboard says about thirty minutes have passed. Blinking, you shift in your seat and find Seungcheol, sitting next to you, watching you with a look that is foreign on his face, something close to adoration. Clearing your throat, you remove your seatbelt and sit up straight.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long enough. We just got here." He announces as he moves to open his door. "Come on, let's go inside."

Once you are out of the car, you realise Seungcheol has taken you to a five star hotel and seeing the confusion on your face, he explains. "It's safer here. Can't take any more risks tonight."

He casually slips his hand into yours, making you frown and drags you towards the hotel. Your tired body cannot put up much of a fight so you follow him begrudgingly and you are quickly escorted to the penthouse suite thanks to his prior booking.

Upon entering the suite you walk straight to the master bedroom where the king sized bed calls for your tired self as you sit down and take off your heels, throwing them away on the carpet over the floor with a soft thud, exhaling a loud sigh. Seungcheol follows you and remains quiet as you sit in silence at the edge of the bed, too wired, too disoriented to do anything. Normally, after everything that happened with your uncle your decision making skills have significantly sharpened but having Seungcheol near you, his stupid confession ringing in your head is fucking with your brain. And as if that goddamn man can read your mind, he kneels in front of you on the floor, one of his hands softly touching your knees as he utters. "You need to rest, ______. I will handle everything else. It is all under control now, trust me."

"Why do you do this?" You croak, pushed to the limits of exhaustion, your eyes trained somewhere in an unfocused gaze as you fidget with your hands. "Why do you push me away and then come back running at a time like this?"

He is silent for a long time while you fight to keep your tears at bay.

You will not cry in front of him.

"I am sorry." He only whispers, his fingers softly stroking your knee as his head lowers and his gaze falls down on the floor. "I was foolish and...scared. That night after we slept together you…you said out loud you loved me and I panicked. I was— I am a danger to you. But being away from you for a week was a pain unlike anything else. I went back to that cabin and I slept in your bed and the sheets had the faintest of your smell. Weirdly, your scent and everything you left behind soothed me and I didn't have any nightmares in the past week. But every morning I woke up and there was a sinking feeling in my stomach that only grew each day until I couldn't bear it. I realised that you really were an angel who saved me, brought lightness back into my life, and gave me a new purpose, a new dream. I realised what an idiot I was and I came to the city on Wednesday night. Believe me when I tell you that my intention was to just stay away and make sure you are okay. I knew what I had done and I was in no way worthy of showing up in front of you but I had to intervene tonight, _____. Your life was in danger."

The air conditioner in your room suddenly feels chillier as goosebumps prickle your skin, making you shiver. Seungcheol takes notice of it and stands up quickly to take off his jacket before draping it over your shoulders. He stands in front of you in silence, fingers hovering over your now covered shoulders while you stare at his shoes, your head going blank but also running a mile a minute. The frustration and overwhelmingness bleed together until you can't tell one emotion separate from another.

All of a sudden, Seungcheol's thumbs caress your cheeks while the rest of his fingers softly cup your jaw and it is only then that you realise you have been silently crying. He oh so gently wipes your cheek dry while uttering, "Please don't cry. I know I hurt you. I promise I will leave as soon as I make sure you are going to be okay." Instantly, a part inside your brain is flooded with panic as it screams no. You don't want him to leave when you remember how hard the past week was on you and how many times a day you would revisit that night in the cabin, the moment you two shared and how it proved to be the anchor for you throughout everything that happened after.

You were— are mad at him but you still want him near, crazy is it not?

You keep thinking of how safe you felt the moment Seungcheol found you in tonight's chaos, how just his presence made you fall asleep so easily when for the last week you could not fall asleep without the fear of nightmares.

Yes, they have returned. But you don't see the accident anymore, you see your uncle chasing you around the cabin while you call for Seungcheol but he doesn't come, no matter how much you beg.

And after tonight, you wonder what more nightmares await you. So when you utter the one, very powerful word, you tell yourself that you are doing this for yourself, to be selfish and not for him, which is not a lie entirely. 

"No."

Your left hand reaches to grab the fabric of his shirt and you fist it tightly in your hand. "Don't leave."  You don't dare to look at him, scared you will break once you do and instead focus your gaze on the patterns of the carpet while holding onto his shirt. The next moment Seungcheol is sitting next to you and in the moment after he gently wraps his arms around you, your head falling perfectly against his shoulder while your arms snake around his waist after a moment's hesitation. 

His warm touch soothes your back as his other hand cups the back of your head, softly stroking it with his thumb. A small whimper comes from your mouth as quiet sobs escape from you and you hide your face and weep, trying to stifle the sounds.

"I am so sorry, _____. I am sorry for everything." Seungcheol whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I will make everything better, I promise. I will stay as long as you need me and then… " There is a moment of heavy pause. "When you don't, I will follow you around like a lost puppy for the rest of my life." Thinking about the rest of your life and not having Seungcheol in it makes you sob harder and if you had energy you would scream at him and tell him to just shut up. Instead, you cry, cry your heart out, promising yourself that from tomorrow you won't. 

Tomorrow another battle begins. 

As the night grows deeper, Seungcheol holds you tighter and your sobs gradually fade and before you know it you fall asleep on his shoulder. Seungcheol stays still for a while longer to make sure you don't wake up before gently picking up your sleeping form and setting you down on the bed, fixing the pillow underneath your head and covering you with a blanket. Despite his desire to crawl into bed and sleep next to you, he resists it and instead takes the loveseat in front of the window, where he sits and watches your peacefully sleeping form, before falling asleep himself with a heart full of gratitude.

— You watch the steam from the mug evaporate into the air before taking a small sip. The tea is slightly bitter and hot, just as you need it.

After waking up and taking a quick shower, here you sit, by the window of your penthouse suite, sipping tea, treating yourself to a quiet peaceful moment before your hectic day, which you are frankly not prepared for, begins. 

You woke up to an empty suite, with no sign of Seungcheol and it almost made you wonder if last night was an entire elaborate dream. But then you found his tie lying on the loveseat which acted as a reassurance of his presence, weirdly bringing solace to you. 

After waking up, you realised your phone's battery is dead, which became another source of peace for you, because you know otherwise, it would have been blowing up with calls and you wouldn't have gotten the good night's sleep that you got. 

There's a sudden sound of the door opening that alerts you, making you crane your neck to see the visitor. Seungcheol walks in, dressed completely differently from last night, looking delicious in a light blue polo and white pants. On his hands are two shopping bags and behind him is a hotel staff member who pushes in a huge breakfast trolley. "Good morning, _____." Seungcheol meets your eye as he sets down the shopping bags on the edge of the bed and thanks the staff as he takes his leave.  You watch Seungcheol take off the lids covering the food while speaking, "Breakfast is here. I have asked for a bit of everything you like. And I have got new clothes and some necessities for you. They are in the bag," He points to the general direction as he starts stacking pancakes on a plate for you. You are quite surprised and flattered and you cannot come up with anything else to say but, "Thank you."

For some weird reason, you feel shy and awkward around him as if you are a newborn fawn. Maybe it is because none of you are addressing the elephant in the room; last night's conversation and instead acting like you have known each other for years. "It's my pleasure," he smiles at you, a genuine smile that shows his dimples and makes your heart gallop like a horse. Handing you the plate, he takes a comfortable seat in the chair in front of you and watches you dig in, a look you can only describe as fondness sitting on his face. Feeling shy, you cover your mouth as you chew. "Stop looking at me." 

"You look a bit tired. Did you not sleep well?" He asks suddenly.  "I had a good sleep, thank you." You inform, surprised how he noticed.  You have been feeling a little sick after you woke up despite having a very good night's rest. A headache has been creeping up on your temples but you are trying hard to ignore it because this is not the time to get sick.

You have a long day ahead of you.

Making you jerk, Seungcheol places his palm on your forehead out of the blue as he checks your temperature and an unpleasant look settles on his face. "You are getting a fever." "No, I'm not." You direct your focus on cutting your pancakes, using too much pressure. Ignoring you, the man dials a number on his phone and asks for some cold medicine to be brought to the hotel room to whoever is on the other side. "I just told you, I am fine." You frown, annoyed. He hangs up and stares at you as if you are speaking a different language. "You are not. You need to take the medicine and get some rest."

"Now is not the time for me to sleep! Do not play doctor!" You snap, setting the plate down with a loud bang as you clutch the fork and knife tightly in your hand. Seungcheol does not react to your outburst but simply changes position as he comes to sit next to you.

"Your cousin is in custody. I talked with your lawyer this morning, he is preparing everything well. There is no way he is getting off. Jihoon and his men already testified to the police so you do not have to meet with them unless you want to add something. If you do, I will arrange a phone call with the station. The legal department is working on a statement and it will be released today in a press conference. The CFO will read it out." He informs, casually. 

"You are sick, _____. And it's okay .You went through a lot. It is okay if you take a break today. No one is asking you to go out there and face the demons. You need to rest. Your body is asking for it." 

His voice softens as one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh gently. The assurance in his voice paired with the tenderness in his eyes makes you swallow a lump in your throat and blink back tears. "Still..."

"Finish your breakfast." He says as he reaches for the plate while taking the fork and knife out of your hand and cutting it into bite sized pieces. "And you should probably call your brother today, by the way. The news of last night's events will reach him sooner or later and I think it would be best if he heard it from you."

You nod, feeling sad. Chan just left for a vacation one week ago. When he hears about this, he will definitely catch the next flight home.

"If you do not want to call him, I can do it for you." Seungcheol offers as he finishes his task and hands the plate and cutlery back to you.

"No, I will do it." You murmur and silently go back to eating. Seungcheol watches you in silence for the rest of the meal and after you are done, the staff returns to clean up and drops your medicines. You take them and then sit in your bed idly, watching the city skyline through your window, trying not to overthink anything. You can hear Seungcheol talk over the phone in the other room before he steps back into the master bedroom to check up on you.

"If you feel too sick, let me know. I will take you to the hospital." 

You softly nod and turn your head to look at him. He appears worried, his eyes glazed with concern, his brows forming a knot as if he's trying to read you. After a moment, you silently motion him to come sit by you on the bed which he diligently follows. 

His hands reach out to hold yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he gazes into your eyes, leaning closer to you, his eyes searching for something in yours. His bangs fall forward, cupping his temples and you itch to brush them away.  "Tell me what you are thinking." He whispers.

"You have pretty hair." You reply honestly and he chuckles, shaking his head before his face becomes serious.  "I missed you." His voice is low, almost inaudible as his gaze falls down to your linked hands, as if he is ashamed to meet your eyes when saying that. "I missed you too." You reply honestly, once again. Seungcheol seems surprised to hear that and you cannot help but roll your eyes.

"Oh please, Choi Seungcheol. Don't act like you had no idea." Your head rests against the headboard as you make yourself comfortable and scowl at him. "You knew very well how much effect you had on me and you knew damn well how much I loved you."

"Loved me?"

"Okay, love you—"

"Wait, no— you...love me? Really? You didn't say it that night in the heat of the moment?" You only realise then how you just casually spat it out, again, and immediately, heat blooms on your face. You avoid his gaze, snatching your hands from his grip while he looks absolutely stunned.

"Whatever." You mutter, scooting down on the bed, reaching to grab the sheets and hide yourself in them but Seungcheol stops you as he cages you between his arms, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, his perfume and aftershave blending into an addictive scent that makes your brain hazy with need.

Control yourself, woman! "Answer me. You love me?" "Ugh, you heard me the first time," you groan, trying to twist away from him but he stops you by cupping your chin and making you face him. 

"Wanna know something?" He whispers, inching his face closer.

"What?" You are breathless.

"I love you too, ____." He replies, his lips ghosting over yours. You anticipate a kiss but he doesn't, instead tucks your hair behind your ear as he whispers in your ear. "I am so deeply, madly in love with you it is embarrassing."

The words are music to your ears and your insides swoon as you close your eyes and relish them, pressing your lips tight to prevent yourself from breaking into a maniacal grin. Seungcheol shifts his weight back and rests himself on his one palm as his other hand softly cups your face. "And I am sorry, once again, for what I did to you."

"Good but I am still mad." You try your best to appear stern.

"I know." His expression is solemn. "I plan on making it up to you until my dying breath."

When did he become so romantic?

"You may start by cuddling me," you whisper, almost shy, carefully watching his reaction. He immediately proceeds to get under the sheets with you and carefully engulfs you into his large arms, your face resting against his solid chest as his hand strokes your hair soothingly. Your arms move to snake around his waist as you feel yourself relax, his arms feeling like the safest, most comfortable place in the entire universe and you never, ever want to leave.

"I love you, Seungcheol." Your voice is muffled against his chest.

"I love you more, angel. So much more."

1 month later 

The view around the cabin is just as pretty as you remember it. The setting sun of dusk casts it in a beautiful glow which you stop and stand to admire. 

Beside you, Seungcheol finishes parking the jeep and unloads the overnight bags from the trunk. 

"What are you looking at?" He asks when he comes to stand next to you, fishing for keys from his pocket in one hand.

"It's very beautiful." You murmur, eyes glancing over the view before settling down on the man next to you. He is dressed in a grey t-shirt, his blond hair looking as gorgeous as ever, if not more in the golden hour and you know, he is undoubtedly the epitome of beauty. 

Seungcheol meets your stare with equal sincerity as he reaches to hold your hand, whispering. "Yes, it is." You know he is talking about you.

A light, gleeful laugh escapes your lips as you playfully push him with your shoulder. He grins and drags you with him inside the cabin.

It is hard to believe that this place was a crime scene about a month ago. Seungcheol did some thorough renovations and now the place looks more beautiful, cozier than ever.

As much as your heart wishes to stay in this little piece of green heaven forever, this is a small weekend getaway that Seungcheol organised and initiated by picking you up early from work today. You did not complain because the past few weeks were tough.

Getting your company back together after the fundraiser's incident and making sure you are still in the market is taking a lot of well thought plans and manpower and instructions. You have help, of course, from Chan who immediately rushed home from his vacation when he heard about Jun's attack on you. Seungcheol also has been helping you a lot, though you officially denied him the position of your bodyguard. 

He then started working as a security consultant at his friend's company and has been assisting you however he could throughout the past month. He also started therapy again and so far his progress is remarkable. He is a lot less self sabotaging and he has not had a nightmare ever since you got back together, much like you. Not to mention he has been working extra hard to make it up to you, always catering to your every little need and never asking for anything in return or initiating anything, even though you have noticed multiple times how his eyes trail you around hungrily. 

So far, you have only rewarded him with kisses because it was too much fun to watch him silently suffer.  However, you plan to change that this weekend.

"Let's watch the sunset together," you propose as Seungcheol drops your bags in the bedroom. He agrees and you two walk back outside to the patio, hands linked where you stand and gaze at the setting sun. Seungcheol's arms wrap around you protectively from behind and his chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"We need to get groceries." He murmurs absentmindedly as he presses a soft kiss on your neck that makes you sigh in pleasure. You hum, offering that you could just order takeout. As the sun dips beneath the horizon, Seungcheol takes occasional peeks at your face, admiring the mesmerised look in your eyes. His heart beats loudly, wild in love as he imagines the rest of his life with you and how it would be to watch you watch the sunset.

Delightful. Like the delightful secret he is hiding. A huge secret that has been burning holes in his pocket for a month.  After the night of the attack, the next morning when he went to shop for your clothes at the mall, a ring caught his eye in a jewellery store and he purchased it right there, intent on putting it on your finger someday.

He has been carrying it ever since, waiting for the perfect moment to get down on one knee.  Maybe this weekend will carry that moment, maybe not.

Either way, it is fine. He is not in a rush. He knows he will get down on one knee when he deems himself worthy enough of you. Though, logically it might never happen because no one is worthy of a person as beautiful, as amazing as you. But he will work very hard to be worthy of you, now and every day that he has on this planet. Seungcheol smiles to himself, agreeing that he's a very lucky bastard. "Cheol?" You call him by his nickname, breaking his train of thought. "Hm?" "I love you." You whisper. His next words are the sweetest serenade. "I love you more, angel."

A/N: If you have made it this far, congratulations and a huge thank you for taking the time to read this mammoth of a fic! I genuinely put my blood, sweat and tears into this and believe me when I tell you that my wrists hurt like hell. Still, I am glad I could share this with the world and I'm very proud of myself for successfully putting the conjectural idea from my head to the paper. It took a lot of time to come up with the idea, finalize it and stitch the pieces together so please leave a review and reblog! Your thoughts and comments really make my day. Wishing you a happy October! As a side note, I am swearing off of writing fics over 20k words. When I tell you that this app whopped my ass while posting this! My god! I was seriously considering breaking it into two parts. If you are reading this now that means I have hopefully posted it without trouble. Anyway, toodles!

Expedition Andromeda Exodus Crew Commander's Logbook

Day 42 Commander Jarvis is dead. I was able to retrieve his pack before the Entity Epsilon dragged his corpse into the nether. As the First Officer I am to resume his command of the crew — what's left of us anyway. Privates Pierson and Yu also did not survive Level 8. May their souls rest in peace. According to the limited records recovered from prior expeditions, we should be nearing the Null Zone to Level 9. As far as the Axiom Company is concerned, Level 9 is the furthest any crew has reached before being fully exterminated. In my opinion, however, it remains a possibility that others from prior expeditions may have survived — perhaps moving on to higher levels, beyond the Company's reach. Whether they are out there, I suppose we will either find out or die trying. Day 46 We encountered another Entity Epsilon — that makes five. We have not once escaped from one of them as a full crew, and this time was no different. Privates Klipp and Jameson fought valiantly until the very end, but that thing is a monster. May their souls rest in peace. It's just me, Sanchez, and Finn left now. We should have reached a Null Zone by now, but no such luck. I have a bad feeling we've just been going in circles — but we have no choice but to press on. Day 47 Sixth Entity Epsilon encounter. We were so close. The Null Zone was right there, but it was faster. May Privates Sanchez and Finn rest in peace. I have retreated and am writing this in haste from our previous post, but I won't be safe here for much longer. I am going to make a run for the Null Zone. If I don't make it, then so be it.

You slip the tablet into your pack and raise your gun at the ready. Quietly slipping out of the abandoned makeshift tent you've been hiding under, you take a deep breath. Scanning the cavernous tunnels in your periphery, it looks clear — though, that doesn't mean much. You've unfortunately had enough run-ins with the Epsilons at this point to know that they can practically materialize out of thin air. Those fuckers are fast. You know your odds aren't great, but it's not like you have much to lose left anyway.

Heading in the direction of the Null Zone, you break into a sprint. Normally you'd take greater care to move in silence, but you've learned the hard way that all the stealth in the world is fruitless against the Epsilons. So you bolt at top speed, the echoes of your boots thunking against the limestone ground booming through the stale, damp air. If there's one nearby, you're done for.

Your senses start to sting, picking up on the empty resonance of the Null Zone ahead. You're almost there. Just 30 meters more. So close you can taste it. Then a horrific screech fills your ear.

You don't stop, you don't slow, you don't even dare to peek over your shoulder. You know once you do, you're dead meat. You run and run, muscles screaming in agony as you push yourself onward. 20 meters. 10 meters. Five. Four, three, two—

Against all instincts you hurl yourself at the cavern wall between two towering stalagmites. For a split millisecond you consider the possibility that you have misjudged the location of the Null Zone, and that you are about to slam face-first into solid rock. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for impact.

But it doesn't come.

A sudden deafening silence hits you like a truck. You open your eyes you see yourself hurling face-first into slick, oily pavement. You brace yourself just in time — your palms slamming into the rough ground as you catch yourself. Quickly rolling over you leap back to your feet, reaching for your gun and raising it to position as you rapidly scan your surroundings, but the Epsilon is gone — as is the miserable cave system you'd been in for nearly two weeks. Instead, you find yourself standing in the middle of a street in a suburban neighborhood, dim and shadowy in the moonless nighttime, shrouded in a chilly lingering mist. The caves were an insufferable flavor of quiet, but you had gotten used to its reverberating echoes; here it is just as quiet, but instead of claustrophobic it feels uncomfortably vast. You're not sure which is worse — but you're here now, and there is no going back.

Your head swivels as you peer down the street in both directions. As expected, both ways appear endless — you're used to that by now. No immediate anomalies are detected, and since the Company's intel on Level 9 is practically nonexistent anyway it really doesn't matter which way you go at this point. You decide to go left.

You walk down the center of the silent street, observing the mundane cookie-cutter houses that pass. The only source of light here is the sparse low-wattage street lamps, their incandescent glow seeming to cast more shadows than anything, but still they all look more or less the same: color palettes ranging from gray to beige, windows darkened, manicured lawns sitting picture-perfect without a blade of grass out of place. Painfully bland. You note none of the houses have numbers, but of course they don't.

Eventually you spot a four-way intersection. Approaching the cross street, you pause at its stop sign — the first and only bit of color you've seen thus far. Logistically, it makes the most sense to continue straight; there are no street signs, so the more turns you make the more likely you are to get lost. But there's no logic to the Backrooms — just when you think you're starting to figure things out, everything can change in the blink of an eye. Try to strategize your way out of a situation, and you'll probably end up in a worse one. You decide to turn right.

The pure silence is deafening, causing your ears to ring just enough for it to be irksome. You don't know what Entities await you in Level 9 — anyone who does most likely did not live to tell the tale; and while this place feels somehow even more devoid of life than the cave systems of Level 8 your intuition tells you something awful is present here. Yet you walk for miles and come across nothing but endless empty houses. You wonder what would happen if you tried to go inside one; the thought is appealing — as is the potential of finding an actual bed to sleep in for the first time in months. But the illusion of shelter might cause you to let your guard down, and you're not yet sure if that's a risk you're willing to take.

You stroll for another 15 minutes, passing a few more intersections but continuing on your path ahead. The protocol for a new level is always to scope out the environment first, provided you deem it safe enough to do so. You've always found that a bit laughable — only Level 0 is free of Entities, after all. After that, any sense of safety is merely an illusion. It's a matter of when, not if, something finds you. But by Backrooms standards, you currently feel about as safe as it gets.

Your feet start to drag as you walk on. You have been going practically non-stop for the brutal two weeks spent in the Level 8 caves — a little rest would do you wonders right now. You begin to study each house as you walk past, trying to get a sense of any danger that may be lurking behind their doors. Much of surviving the Backrooms boils down to natural survival instincts; yours are pretty damn good (it's why you were recruited, after all), but you're exhausted. Even the best soldiers start to lose their grip on reality in this state.

You pass on a few dozen houses. None of them have felt dangerous, but uncertainty is making you hesitant, so you reluctantly press on. You're nearly past the umpteenth beige house when something makes you stop. Turning to your left, the house standing before you looks as unremarkable as the rest. But something about it feels different. Whether that's a good thing or not, you are unsure — but there's only one way to find out.

You step onto the sidewalk, slowly approaching the front door. Even up close, you can't make out any single thing through the boxy windows; it's as if they are solidly opaque rather than just dark. Reaching for the handle, you turn it slowly. You were half expecting it to be locked, but it turns, granting you entry. You push it open just a crack, raising your weapon as you peer into the dark house; it looks like an ordinary modern home interior — no immediate signs of Entities or other danger. Slowly you let yourself in, shutting the front door behind you. You tug a small flashlight from your utility belt — an item infrequently used in the Backrooms, as many Entities are attracted to light. Clicking it on, you scan the room, finding nothing but furnishings as dull and uninteresting as the house's exterior. A set of stairs stands before you, but you proceed past it down the first floor's main hall. You open the doors you pass along the way, only finding a half bath and a few empty closets. Stepping into the kitchen, you find it as ordinary as the rest of the house. You're about to head upstairs when a slightly ajar cabinet catches your eye.

Walking over to the counter, you hesitantly reach for the cabinet door. You open it, eyes widening as your flashlight beam falls on the stock of cans and provisions packs behind the door — food.

Your mind starts to race. Without a doubt, humans were once here. But where are they now? If they had moved on to higher Levels, it's unlikely they would have left food behind. Did they die? Are they still here? If so, where are they?

click

The metallic sound behind your ear sends an immediate chill down your spine. You freeze, body going rigid in fear.

"Put the gun down and turn around. Slowly."

The gruff male voice comes from right behind you. You do as it says, cautiously setting your weapon on the counter and raising your hands in the air. Turning slowly you come face to face with the black muzzle of a pistol, held by a tall, scowling man.

"Who are you?" he barks. "You Company?"

He glares at you through narrowed eyes. Between his spiked hair, tattered headband, eyebrow piercing, and the large scar across his cheek, he would look scary even if he weren't holding a gun to your head.

"I'm Commander l/n of the Exodus Crew, Expedition Andromeda. Our mission is to—"

"Yeah, whatever, I know the spiel," the man scoffs. He cocks his head at you. "Where's the rest of your crew?"

"Dead," you answer him with a glare.

"You kill 'em?" he questions, pressing his pistol threateningly into your forehead.

"What?" you balk. "Of course not, why would you even think that?"

"What do you know of Expedition Crusader?" the man continues, disregarding your question.

"Crusader?" you repeat, your brow shifting in confusion. "There's no such expedition from the Axiom Company with that name."

He lets out an incredulous huff.

"Okay, so you know nothing. Got it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you inquire. You glance up at the barrel of the man's pistol. "And can you get this fucking gun out of my face?"

He stares at you for a moment, considering. You are a potential threat, but you also could be of use to him. Eventually he lowers the gun, letting it rest at his hip; you note that he doesn't take his finger off the trigger.

"It means you're just another pawn in the game."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" you stare at him, growing annoyed already. "Who even are you?"

The man looks at you, unanswering, the gears in his head clearly still turning.

"Call me Hoshi," he finally tells you. He gestures to your gun on the counter. "Get your weapon. But try anything funny and I will kill you."

"I won't," you respond as you grab your gun and put it back into its holster. "I'm just glad to see another human," you admit.

The man huffs again. "Right."

"What's your fucking problem?" you question, following him as he walks off toward a door at the other end of the kitchen. As he opens it you see it appears to lead down to the basement. He descends the staircase without responding; you roll your eyes, trudging after him.

"Shut the door behind you," he barks from somewhere in the darkness. You oblige, extinguishing the already inadequate light source. You're about to complain when you hear the strike of a match — Hoshi ignites a single lantern in the middle of the room, casting a faint flow over the basement's contents. You see a neatly piled stash of rations in one corner, an assortment of rifles and weapons in another, and a twin sized mattress with a single blanket pushed up against the wall — clearly this is where he has hunkered down. Hoshi sits down at the single table, where various maps and tablets are scattered, as if he had been studying them.

"Tell me everything you know about the Company and its missions," he says as you sit in the chair opposite from him.

"That's classified—"

He crosses his arms as he shakes his head, cutting you off. "I already know it all. I just want to see how much you know."

"So you're Company then, too."

"Formerly," he grumbles.

"What does that mea—"

"We'll get there. Just start from the beginning."

"The beginning?" you raise your brow at him. "You want a fucking history lesson?"

"Skip the details," he waves his hand dismissively. "Just give me a summary."

You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar. You don't like the idea of just sitting around wasting time, but you are fucking exhausted.

"Fine," you sigh. "In the year 2135 a group of scientists conducting research on particle physics accidentally discovered a gateway to an alternate dimension that became known as the Backrooms. One of the scientists, Zhang, volunteered to be the first person to enter. He went in, and the team waited patiently for him to report back — nobody knew whether time progressed at the same velocity in the Backrooms, after all, so there could be some sort of delay. They gave it a few days, then a few weeks, then several months. But he was never heard from again. The team then decided to set up a base camp in the Backrooms, to conduct further research and transmit data back to Standard Earth. It was a groundbreaking endeavor, and every day it seemed there was a new discovery that made physicists question everything they knew about the fabric of reality. The research was thriving, but there was a major problem: the initial team who went in could not find a way out. Transmissions from the team became less and less frequent; and eventually, radio silence. Optimism began to dwindle, and funding started to run out. The project was in danger of being shut down entirely — but a coalition of wealthy donors founded the Axiom Company to continue the research. They launched Expedition Pioneer, and sent the first official crew in on a recovery mission. They found the base camp, but it seemed abandoned — and the scientists were nowhere to be seen. The recovery operation turned into reconnaissance, and soon the first Null Zone was discovered. That's when they realized there was more than one level to the Backrooms — but just like nobody could return to Standard Earth from Level 0, those who proceeded to Level 1 could not return to the previous Level. This encouraged Axiom to turn the Backrooms into a full-fledged enterprise. More and more expeditions embarked, and more and more Levels were discovered; the physicists began to theorize that the Backrooms actually contained an infinite number of Levels — a never-ending labyrinth of dimensions within dimensions. But of course, there were also the Entities. Entity Alphas were the first, lurking in the shadows of Level 1's parking garage enviro. They were awful enough as is — large, gangly, and fleshy, strong enough to rip humans apart in a single go. But it only got worse when the Pioneer crews discovered they also had the ability to mimic — disguising themselves as fellow crew members, luring you in with a false sense of security and then shredding you into pieces."

You pause as the gruesome imagery flashes through your mind. Gritting your teeth, you reach for your canteen and take a swig of lukewarm water. You've had no one to talk to since the last of your crew were exterminated (except for yourself, but you try to keep that to a minimum — for your safety as well as your sanity), and your throat is already growing hoarse.

"Anyway," you continue, recapping your canteen and clipping it back onto its place on your utility belt. "I'm sure you're all too familiar with the known Entities." Hoshi doesn't respond, continuing to stare at you coldly from across the table. A grimace seems permanently etched onto his face, but you can't get a read on his motives. Frustrating.

"Despite all the setbacks, incredible progress was made. The Company developed a massive database, recording everything known about the Backrooms and each of its Levels. The first few Levels are the most well-known, but documentation exists through Level 8. No reports from further Levels have ever been received, and nothing is known of Level 9. There has even been speculation that Level 9's enviro is inhospitable to humans, that no one who has entered it has survived — but we are currently in Level 9, so clearly that's not true."

You stop, wondering if Hoshi is satisfied with your rundown of the shit he certainly already knows. His lips remain pursed, saying nothing but continuing to glare at you.

"Do you have a fucking problem with me?" you spit suddenly.

"That depends," he responds, unfazed by your hostile tone.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It's complicated."

"It's a yes or no question," you scowl.

"You are naive. Things are not as straightforward as you think they are."

"Go ahead then," you huff, growing exasperated. "Explain to me how things really are, since apparently I'm fucking stupid."

"You're not stupid," he states matter-of-factly. "You wouldn't have made it this far if you were."

"Then why are you speaking to me like I am??"

"The truth can be hard to grapple with."

"I've seen Entity Alphas rip a human to shreds in seconds," you glare. "I've seen a Gamma boil my crewmate's skin off with their projectile acid venom. I've watched helplessly as Epsilons picked my crew off one by one, taking them alive and dragging them off to to god knows what kinds of horrors lay waiting in the nether. I assure you, whatever it is, I can handle it."

"That's not what I mean."

You swiftly draw your gun and aim it at Hoshi's forehead, switching the safety off.

"I don't appreciate you wasting my fucking time with your cryptic bullshit," you sneer. "Tell me whatever it is that's so important, or die. Your choice."

Hoshi laughs. An infuriatingly haughty chuckle, aggravated even further by the smug smirk spreading across his face. Your scowl deepens, but he just reclines in his chair, raising his hands and resting them behind his head, nonchalant and arrogant.

"Go ahead darling, shoot me," he shrugs. "I've wanted to blow my fucking brains out every single day for a very long time now. You'd only be doing me a favor. But just know that without me, you'll be dead within days."

Your jaw clenches. Unfortunately, you know he's probably right. You don't know how long Hoshi has been in Level 9, but if he's survived this long he certainly has knowledge that would be useful to you.

"Fine."

You switch the safety back on and lower your weapon.

"But call me darling again and I'm gonna start breaking fingers."

If your threat had any effect on him, his callous face shows no sign of it. Rising to his feet, he begins to quickly move to gather the documents on the table.

"For now I will give you a very basic rundown," he tells you, rolling the papers up and shoving them into a small metal canister retrieved from his pack. "But we can't risk staying here any longer. I'll tell you on the way to our next location. Grab any weapons you want," he instructs, pointing to the stockpile in the corner. "Good chance you'll need 'em."

You have dozens of burning questions, but you hold your tongue. You don't think Hoshi would answer any of them right now anyway.

"Anything I can do?" you inquire after arming yourself with an additional automatic rifle and several hand grenades.

"Collect the provisions from the kitchen," he orders as he folds up the safety blanket into his pack. "I'll be up in a minute."

You turn to head back up the stairs, but you are halted by Hoshi's hand grabbing your wrist. Turning to face him, his piercing eyes bore into yours.

"If anything looks out of place, run."

"What do you m—"

"I mean exactly that. Use your instincts. Your life depends on it now more than ever."

As much as you want to trust Hoshi, you don't. Something about him scares you. You're not sure what — but according to him, there's no time to stand around and think right now. It's either trust him, or fend for yourself. Neither is very appealing, but for the time being, you decide to do as he says.

"Understood," you reply bluntly. He releases your arm, and you proceed up the stairs.

As you saw before, there's not much in the cabinet. It takes you approximately thirty seconds to stow the provisions in your pack. You hear Hoshi's footsteps echoing as he climbs up the stairs; turning, you see him emerge from the dark basement, hauling his belongings and also wielding an automatic rifle. You're about to ask where it is exactly that you two are going, when you notice the houseplant in the hallway. It's a large fern, tall and leafy, and it definitely wasn't there before.

Hoshi's eyes dart to where yours are fixed, immediately registering the anomaly. He turns to tell you to run, but you have already bolted out the back door. He runs after you, following you as you kick down the fence gate with a single blow and bolt into the street.

"LEFT!" he shouts at your back. You turn left, sprinting down the center of the road off into the permanent suburban night. He's fast, advantaged by his height, but you're faster. He lengthens his strides, pushing onward, finally catching up to you at the next intersection.

"Stop!!" he orders, and you do. Back to back, you survey the streets around you. You're not entirely sure what it is you're looking for, but as far as you can see in every direction you find nothing. Intuition tells you you are safe — for now, at least.

"We're clear," Hoshi states. He lowers his gun a bit, but still grips it firmly. "For now."

He turns to face you, his sharp eyes locking onto you.

"You're very good at following orders," he says to you, but by the bitterness in his tone you can tell that it's not a compliment. He walks off, continuing straight down the same street.

You follow him for several blocks, walking a couple meters behind him without conversation, but you quickly begin to grow annoyed.

"What was that?"

"An Entity Zeta," he responds curtly, not bothering to turn around. You wait for him to elaborate, but of course he doesn't.

"And what exactly are the Zetas?" you inquire, speeding your pace to catch up to him. "What's their M.O.?"

His jaw clenches. "They're a hive mind," he answers bitterly. "A massive, interconnected colony of festering, insect-like creatures. Their M.O. is to stalk and ambush. They don't attack right away. They watch you, disguising themselves as familiar objects — waiting until you least expect it, striking when you're at your most vulnerable. If you feel safe for even a moment, you're not."

"And that houseplant was one of them."

"Yes."

"What would have happened?" you press. "If we hadn't ran away?"

"It would've erupted into a swarm of vermin and cleaned all the flesh off our bones within a minute tops."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he huffs. "'Oh' is right."

"Is there any way to fight back?"

"Depends how close they are. If they're too close, no. You either run or you're fucked. If they're further away, fire will deter them, but not for long. There's no true way of 'killing' them off — it'll just retreat back into the hive mind and regenerate."

"You say fire. Are grenades the best bet?"

"Grenades can be effective. But your best bet—" He slips his pack off his shoulder, pulling out an empty beer bottle with a rag sticking out of it. "Is one of these."

You raise your brow at the crude Molotov cocktail, but as you think about it it does makes a lot of sense.

"What do you use to ignite it?"

Hoshi reaches into the breast pocket of his cargo jacket, pulling out something small and tosses it at you. As you catch it, you see it's a matchbook.

"Here," he adds, extending the bottle in his hand to you. "Take this one."

You tuck the matchbook into your own pocket and slip the makeshift bomb into one of the external pockets on your pack.

"Thanks," you tell him amicably. "Hopefully I won't need it."

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. He still wears the same scornful expression, but unless your eyes are deceiving you, it seems to have softened ever so slightly.

"You will."

You walk in silence again for a few moments. The question lingering on your mind nags at you, begging to be asked.

"Is your crew still around or is it just you?"

Hoshi stiffens. "Just me," he answers grimly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," you tell him sincerely, but he just scoffs. He continues onward, lips pursed tightly shut as he doesn't reply.

"Did they—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he sneers.

"Okay," you accept. "Sorry."

He says nothing. You go back to walking in silence.

At the next intersection, Hoshi turns right.

"Are we going to a specific location or are we just wandering until we find something?" you ask.

"Specific location. We're close."

You wonder if his bluntness is related to you bringing up his crew, ripping open a not-so-old wound. But in the short span of time you've known him, you've gathered this is just how he is.

"Here," he says a few blocks later, stopping in front of another perfectly nondescript house. He heads for the front door — you follow.

The house's interior is almost identical to the previous one you were in, bland and impersonal.

"I'll sweep upstairs. You take downstairs," he instructs, quickly disappearing up the stairs. You're not sure exactly what you're looking for, since the Zetas can apparently shape shift into anything, but you investigate anyway. The living room, dining room, kitchen, closets, and bathroom all seem fine. The last room to be checked sits behind a closed door; you swing it open, your gun at the ready — but you find nothing but an ordinary bedroom. You check its bathroom as well, but it too is clear.

Hoshi materializes in the doorway as you exit the bathroom.

"Upstairs is clear."

"Downstairs too," you inform him. "I can't believe this one has a real bed," you remark, a grin appearing on your face for the first time in god knows how long.

"They all do," he replies. You turn and give him a look.

"Then why were you sleeping in the basement in the other one?"

"It's not important."

You stare at him blankly for a moment, but then you just shrug.

"Well I'm sleeping here," you announce, plopping your pack down on the floor. "An actual bed, in the Backrooms. It's a goddamn miracle."

"Don't get too comfortable," Hoshi tells you dully, turning to exit the bedroom.

"Will we have to move again soon?" you inquire. He stops, looking back at you.

"It's likely."

"Is there a pattern to the Zetas' movement?" you ask, making him stop in his tracks again. He lets out a small sigh.

"Get some sleep," he says plainly, and then he leaves.

You're about to plop yourself on the bed and go right to sleep, but a thought crosses your mind. You step back into the bathroom, walking over to the shower and turning its knob. To your surprise, it actually turns on, an inviting stream of water spraying from the faucet.

"Holy shit," you mutter to yourself, a wide grin spreading across your face. You're about to begin undressing when an arm reaches from behind you and shuts the water off. You whip around abruptly, finding Hoshi's face hovering above yours. His broad stature towers over you — from this close up, he is even more intimidating than he already ways.

"What the hell?!" you bark at him.

"I told you," he glares down at you. "The Zetas will attack at your most vulnerable."

"I'll be fast."

"No," he insists, crossing his arms. "It's too risky."

"Oh come on," you groan. "I haven't taken a proper shower in ages. Let me have this."

"You're asking to get killed."

"Oh go fuck yourself," you roll your eyes, taking your shirt off anyway. Hoshi averts his eyes; you reach for the knob and turn the water back on. "I'll be five minutes."

"Fine," he grumbles. "I'll stand guard I fucking guess."

You're about to point out that you never asked him to do that, but you just shake your head. There's no point in arguing with him, it seems.

"Suit yourself."

He shuts the door behind him as he exits. You spend the next five minutes basking in the glory of a real, functioning shower. The water is cold, but you don't even care — as far as you're concerned this is the peak of luxury.

After, you exit the bathroom to retrieve the change of clothes from your pack. Sure enough, Hoshi is standing right outside the door; when he sees that you're naked, he quickly turns away.

"Could've given me a fucking warning," he mumbles under his breath.

"Sorry," you say uninterestedly as you get dressed again. "I wasn't about to put those filthy clothes back on."

"I'm dressed now," you announce about a minute later.

"Great."

He starts to walk out of the room when you grab him by the shoulder.

"You should take a shower, too."

"I'm fine," he responds, trying to walk away, but you cling to his shirt, yanking at it to spin him back around.

"Take a fucking shower," you glare at him. "Give me your gun, I'll be on watch."

He grits his teeth, but to your surprise he stomps back into the bathroom.

"I'm not giving you my gun. Use your own."

The door slams shut behind him. You grin as you hear the water turn back on, picking up your weapon and stationing yourself beside the door.

Eight minutes later the ambient rush of the water dissipates. Hoshi appears a few moments later, marching out of the bathroom and making a beeline for the door. You consider teasing him for taking so long, but you are promptly distracted by his stark lack of clothing. He wears only his underwear and headband, the rest of his clothes balled up in his fist sopping wet as he walks out of the room. It was clear from the moment you met him that he had a strong build — but seeing him shirtless, water droplets beading down his back between the crevices of his muscles, very much takes you by surprise.

"See? Wasn't that nice?" you call out to him. He turns back around, his thick pectorals also glistening with water despite the darkness of the room. He stares at you intensely, but the harshness which you've grown accustomed to from him has seemed to mellow slightly.

"Goodnight, Commander l/n," he says calmly, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

You wake about eight hours later. Level 9 has no daylight, so there's no such thing as a true morning — but for the first time in months you actually feel refreshed. You don't know when was the last time you slept this long in one go. Certainly well before your time in the Backrooms.

You find Hoshi in the kitchen, eating beans straight from a can. He still wears a deeply wearied look, but he too seems like he slept well.

"I was just about to wake you," he states, extending the can of beans to you. "You should eat."

You gladly accept the can of beans, spooning a large bite into your mouth.

"I don't know when the last time I had real food was," you comment gleefully as you chew. "All I have left is the dehydrated powder shit and calorie pills."

"We seem to have been the last crew sent in with canned goods," he tells you. "The Company shifted to processed nutrient provisions after us. Cheap bastards."

Your lips twitch into a grin. Getting a full night's rest has seemingly done wonders for the man's demeanor. You consider commenting on it, but you figure he wouldn't appreciate that very much, and the last thing you want to do is piss him off even a little. But, you do still have about a thousand questions for him.

"What were they like?" you ask, treading carefully. "Your crew. You haven't told me much about them."

Hoshi tenses up, a cold expression washing over his face.

"I don't see how it's relevant."

"Okay," you nod acceptingly, not wanting to aggravate him. "How about you then?"

He narrows his eyes at you, confused. "What about me?"

"I don't know, anything. What's your rank?"

"What's it to you?" he cocks his head at you.

"Just trying to make conversation, damn. Sorry," you spit. Irritated, you turn to walk away. You're nearly out of the kitchen when he decides to answer.

"First Officer," he says, his voice less harsh this time. You turn back around; he's still staring at you sternly, but he no longer seems hostile.

"Oh shit, really?" you ask, surprised but interested. "Me too."

"I thought you were Commander," he frowns, wondering if you lied to him before.

"Only after an Epsilon got our initial Commander," you reply, trying not to relive that memory too much.

"Oh. I see," he says quietly, accepting your answer.

"But I suppose rank doesn't mean much of anything anymore," you comment neutrally. "Not when you're the last remaining crewmate."

"I suppose not."

"Well, First Officer Hoshi," you say as you finish off the beans. "What's our course of action for today?"

Hoshi lets out a bewildered laugh. You raise your brow at him, but he just shakes his head.

"Hoshi isn't my real name," he explains. "We all had nicknames, me and my crew."

"What is your name, then?" you ask, genuinely curious, but the minute amount of warmth present in his face quickly fades.

"That's not important."

"That seems to be your answer for everything."

"That's because most things are no longer important," he responds coolly. "Not if you're to survive Level 9."

With that, he departs the kitchen. You sigh. It's exasperating dealing with Hoshi — but you decide to follow him.

"You didn't answer my question," you remind him as you join him in the dining room. He is sitting at the table, notebooks and tablets and maps strewn across its surface just as they were in the previous house's basement.

"What question?"

"I asked you what our course of action is."

"Our course of action is to not die," he states.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, no shit. I mean, is there anything I can do to help?"

"No."

"That can't possibly be true."

He glances up at you, sharp eyes locking into your gaze. Every time, it's intimidating.

"You don't have the intel needed to be of use here."

He says it matter-of-factly, without contempt, but you're still irked by his unintentional rudeness.

"Well, you could fill me in," you suggest, but he just waves his hand at you dismissively.

"That would take too long."

"It's not like we have anything else to do!" you point out, growing annoyed.

"Fine! Here," he barks, grabbing a handful of the maps and shoving them toward you. "Study these."

"Thank you," you say curtly, snatching them from his hand and marching out of the room.

You spend the next few hours studying Hoshi's maps of Level 9. For the most part, they are incomprehensible, and you genuinely start to wonder if he might just be insane. Eventually you bury your head in your hands, groaning with frustration. A few moments later, you sense movement, coming from behind you. You reach for your gun and jump to your feet, swiveling around and pointing the weapon, but it's just Hoshi.

"Fucking hell, don't sneak up on me like that!" you chastise him.

"Apologies." He extends to you an additional piece of paper; you take it, seeing an assortment of keys, diagrams, and notes. "This should help you understand the maps better."

"Gee, thanks, this would've been really helpful several hours ago," you say sardonically as you scan the sheet.

"I made it just now."

"Oh," you reply, lifting your gaze to meet his. "Well, thank you."

He gives you a single nod, spinning on his heel and retreating back to the dining room.

With Hoshi's new notes, you're quickly able to start making sense of the maps. What had previously looked like the scribblings of a madman turn into a vastly complex mathematical schematic depiction of the known areas of Level 9. You're still on the fence about whether the man is insane, but one thing becomes very clear: he's a fucking genius.

A few more hours and your brain is aching from overuse. When the maps start to become convoluted, you decide to call it quits. You gather the papers and return them to Hoshi in the dining room; he's in the exact same spot he was hours ago, poring over some sort of document on his tablet.

"Thank you for the notes," you tell him as you set the maps on one of the few empty spots on the tabletop. "They really helped me start to make sense of things."

"You're welcome," Hoshi replies, the polite words feeling awkward rolling off his tongue. It's been a long time since he's had a casual conversation with anybody that didn't involve giving or receiving orders.

"I'm going to sleep now," you inform him.

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Hoshi," you say cordially.

He simply nods. You figure that's about as much as you're going to get out of him; as you walk out of the room, you hear his voice echo calmly from behind you.

"Goodnight."

As you sleep you have a nightmare.

It's a recurring one — one you've been having for a while now. In it, you're wielding a gun, but it's not like the ones you carry with you in the Backrooms. It's a .45 handgun, and you're frantically reloading it as you crouch behind something that resembles a desk. Your hands are shaky and covered in blood, but it doesn't appear to be yours. A curly-haired man is perched beside you, reloading his own pistol. He's wounded, appearing to have been grazed by a bullet in the arm, one of his glasses lenses half-shattered, but he appears determined; he signals to you to advance.

"Go!! I'll cover you!" he mutters to you under his breath.

"I don't feel very good about this anymore," you reply, cocking your gun. He looks at you somberly, but you can tell he understands.

"Me neither," he says, then smiles at you. "If I don't see you again, it's been a pleasure working with you."

You grin back. "Likewise," you reply.

"On my signal," he tells you. You take a deep breath, shifting to prepare yourself to make a run for it.

"Three… two… one… GO!!!"

You jump to your feet and hurdle yourself over the desk, coming face to face with three men in full riot gear and guns much bigger and scarier than yours. A shot rings out from behind you as your companion shoots at the nearest one — he hits him, and the armed man collapses to the ground. You manage to yank the ballistic shield out of his hands as you pass, wielding it as you sprint toward the emergency exit that the remaining two men are blocking. You hold your fire, focusing on protecting yourself from their bullets with the shield. To your surprise you manage to make it all the way to them without getting hit. You shoot one of them in the leg as you ram the other with the shield as hard as you can — it's enough to knock him over slightly, giving you a chance to shoot at him once before you throw yourself against the door. It opens into a maintenance hallway, its concrete walls and flooring sallowly lit by sparse fluorescent lighting. You bolt toward the left, running as fast as you possibly can muster, hoping to escape before they come after you; but the hallway is vast and open, with no places to hide. Suddenly you are surrounded, flanked by a dozen armed men who seemed to materialize from the walls. One of them shoves you to the ground, your knees slamming into the floor. A siren wails hauntingly in the distance, your ears pound with the rushing blood coursing through your veins, your breathing harsh and erratic. You hear the sound of a rifle cocking into position behind your head, and then—

"Commander! Wake up!"

You bolt upright, finding yourself in the bedroom again. Hoshi hovers above the bed, staring down at you— a menacing sight to wake up to, but not worse than the dream you were having.

"We have to go," he tells you urgently. "Pack your shit as fast as you can."

You don't question him. The alarm in his voice is enough to light a fire under you, and within a minute you've gathered your things. Hoshi reappears in the doorway as you finish lacing your boots.

"Come on," he orders. You hurry after him, following him out the front door into the never-ending suburban night. You run for several blocks, turning down a new street a few times, but soon he begins to slow his pace.

"We should be safe now," he tells you. "But don't let your guard down."

He continues, walking along the sidewalk with his weapon at the ready.

"There's another house nearby. We'll be there soon."

You nod, walking beside him silently for a minute or two.

"How do you know where to go?" you decide to ask. "Like how do you know where is safe?"

He turns, facing you as he speaks. You notice that this is the first time he's done so.

"I've been tracking Zeta movement for long enough now that I can recognize their patterns," he explains. "Once one is activated in one area, there seems to be a recovery period before they can strike within the vicinity again. They also seem to stick to certain paths, though I have no idea why. I assume it has to do with the physical logistics of the hive mind network."

"Damn, you're really fucking smart," you tell him. "Not that I thought you were stupid," you add.

"I used to be an engineer," he replies gruffly.

"What?! How did you end up in a tactical unit then?"

He lets out a bitter laugh. "That's a long story. We turn left here."

"I'm all ears," you try, following him as he turns down the next street.

"Maybe later, when we—"

He stops in his tracks, thrusting his hand out in front of you and forcing you to halt too. Ahead of you are several dozen mailboxes — the blue collection receptacles that you would typically find at a street corner. It occurs to you that you've never seen a mailbox in Level 9 before, but these aren't just posted on the sidewalk — they're on the sidewalks, in the yards, in the middle of the street. All of them seeming to be turned toward you, facelessly staring you down with sinister intent.

"Shit," Hoshi hisses as he frantically reaches for one of the grenades clipped to his pack. He pulls the pin with his teeth and launches it toward the nearest cluster of mailboxes, but it doesn't go off. You reach for the grenades on your own pack, but as you do so one of the blue boxes close to you begins to turn into static, coming to life in a festering swarm and growing tall and sprawling and disgusting. You toss your first grenade, swinging your rifle back into your hands and firing into the mass. It seems to hinder it slightly, making it squeal, but the explosion of the grenade does significantly more damage. It begins to retreat into itself, but two others near Hoshi start to shift into their true form. His second grenade goes off, holding them off momentarily as they let out a grating screech, but the rest of the Zetas are already activating. Remembering the bottle Hoshi had given you, you grab it from your pack.

"Cover me!!" you shout to him as you kneel. Setting the bottle on the ground you reach into your pocket, digging around for the matchbook. Hoshi fires a stream of bullets into the Zeta currently charging toward you; you almost panic, unable to find the matches, but finally your fingers locate the small paper packet. You pry one of the matches off and strike it, holding it to the rag sticking out of the bottle. For a horrible moment you're not sure there's even anything flammable inside it — but giving it a good shake you hear something sloshing around in there. Saying a silent prayer you try the match again, and this time it ignites. A fucking miracle.

"Incoming!!!" you yell to Hoshi. He ducks, and you throw the Molotov cocktail as hard as you can toward the center of the largest cluster of Zetas. The bottle shatters on impact with the pavement, igniting into a massive fireball and engulfing the Entities. The flames spread quickly to the others, extracting a cacophonous symphony of horrible screeches as they all begin to burn — the one weakness of being a hive mind, you suppose.

"RUN!!" Hoshi screams. He takes off in the opposite direction, with you sprinting right behind him. As you dash across the intersection you hear a thunderous BOOOOOOOOM bellow out from behind you. The sound of the Zetas' awful squeals swells, and then disappears, returning the street into silence aside from the crackling of the spreading fire and the pounding of you and Hoshi's boots upon the pavement. You steal a glance back, but there's no mailboxes or Zetas in sight — just the flames lighting up the block with an ominous orange glow.

"Are we clear?" you ask Hoshi through labored breaths. He slows down, walking now instead of running. Turning to look behind him, he nods approvingly.

"Yeah, we're good."

"For now," you add.

"For now," he agrees.

"Where to now?" you inquire as he continues down the street, seeming to know exactly where he's going. He lets out a long sigh.

"My crew's original base camp is not far," he says bitterly. His tone sounds reluctant, and you get the sense he does not want to return to this location — but he knows it's the smartest option.

You turn right a few blocks later, and the base camp comes into view. The tall makeshift fence surrounding the house makes it glaringly obvious where you're headed.

"Damn," you comment as you and Hoshi approach the gate, staring up in awe at what looks to be like electrical wiring rigged on top of and all over the scrapped-together fencing. "This is impressive."

Hoshi doesn't reply. He fiddles with the gate's crude latch, letting the both of you in and shutting it again behind you.

"Let's see if we can light this shit back up," he mutters, stepping up to the tangled assembly of wires beside the gate. He fiddles with it for a minute, a low humming sound filling the air as the electricity comes back on. You look at him in amazement; he gives you a slight smirk.

"I told you, engineer," he says nonchalantly, brushing past you and heading into the house.

You were expecting another lifeless interior, like the past houses, but your eyes widen with surprise as you step through the door. The house does have the same style of bland furnishings as seen before, but scattered everywhere are various belongings: clothes strewn over the couch, papers and notebooks atop the coffee table and floor, empty cans and rations packs discarded haphazardly all around. Most prominent though are the spray painted walls — playful graffiti scribbled alongside what appears to be basic map outlines. You realize you haven't seen this much color, this much life, in a long fucking time; the thought nearly makes you emotional, but you quickly shake it off.

"Do you mind if I sleep now?" you question.

"Sure," Hoshi responds, dropping his pack in the middle of the room and plopping himself onto the couch. "We'll be safe here for a while."

"Great," you reply with a relieved grin, excited at the prospect of getting to sleep in a bed again. You head toward the door that appears to be the master bedroom.

"No!!" Hoshi shouts as you go to open the door. He leaps off the couch and gets between you and the doorway, blocking you from entering.

"Don't fucking touch it," he spits angrily.

"Okay, okay!" you say as you swiftly back up, raising your hands in the air apologetically. "I won't, I'm sorry."

He's glaring at you, but his face quickly drops, his irate expression shifting into one of sorrow.

"Take the room with the blue door upstairs," he orders you quietly. "At the end of the hall."

"Okay," you agree gently. As you turn to go up the staircase, you hear him sigh deeply.

"It was my Commander's room."

You look back over your shoulder. Hoshi stands before the door still, arms crossed and staring down at the floor.

"Were you close?" you ask softly.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," you tell him with sincerity. He nods, saying nothing. You stand there for a few more moments, watching him, wondering if you should say anything else. But you don't; you continue up the stairs without another word, leaving him be.

Sure enough, the room at the end of the hallway sits behind a door spray-painted bright blue. You enter, finding a standard looking bedroom covered in a similar disarray to what was present downstairs. Even with the mess, it feels surprisingly cozy.

You drop your bag to the ground, removing your boots and flopping onto the bed. You're asleep before you can even bother getting under the covers.

As usual, you wake up to darkness. You never thought you would miss daylight this much, but the lack of distinction between day and night in the Backrooms, quite frankly, fucking sucks.

You decide to go downstairs to get something to eat. As you drag yourself out of bed, you see something flutter off the nightstand and onto the floor. You pick up the small piece of paper; it's very wrinkled, edges tattered and slightly torn, but you see that it's a photo. Flipping it over, you see a group of eight people, bright faces smiling with enthusiasm and laughter. Many are holding beer bottles, raising them to the camera with cheers. Hoshi's face pops out to you immediately, but the huge beaming grin on his face makes him looks drastically different, as does the distinct lack of scarring across his cheek. One man in the middle of the group seems to be the central focus of the photo — he holds a cake with lit candles on it, the others pointing at him gleefully.

This must be his crew, you think to yourself. You figure the man in the middle is probably his Commander; it appears to have been his birthday in the photo. You tuck the photo into your pocket, careful not to rip it any further.

Traipsing down the stairs, you spot Hoshi crashed face down into the couch, fast asleep. Carefully you wake up him, patting at his shoulder gently. He flies off the couch, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

"Fucking hell!" you instinctively shout in reaction. Calmer, you add "It's just me."

Hoshi stands before you, looking frazzled, the bandana around his head askew and partially covering one of his eyes. He blinks, realizing you are not a threat. He relaxes slightly, adjusting the headband back into place and sitting back down on the couch with a thump.

"Sorry," he mutters, a yawn overtaking him.

"It's fine. Why didn't you sleep in a bed?" you inquire.

"You were in my bed," he states plainly.

"What?" you say with a laugh. "There's more beds in this house—"

"The couch is fine," he insists firmly. You roll your eyes, but you don't press it any further.

An unopened can of what appears to be beef chili sitting on a nearby shelf catches your eye.

"Mind if I open this?" you ask Hoshi, showing him the can. "We can share."

His face seems to lighten up at the prospect of something besides beans or nutrient powder. "Fine with me," he nods, getting up and walking into the next room. "Here, there's probably some utensils in the kitchen still."

He returns with a very bent metal spoon and a fork that is missing a prong. You sit at opposite ends of the couch, passing the can of chili back and forth as you eagerly devour it.

"As far as I'm concerned," you say, breaking the silence as you shovel a spoonful of the stew into your mouth, "this is a gourmet fucking meal."

Hoshi takes the can as you hand it to him. It disappears in a flash, but the briefest hint of a grin appears on his face for a split second.

"Can I ask you about your crew?" you say delicately after a minute or so of silence. You know it's clearly sensitive topic for him, but you have a feeling he might be more open to talking about them now that he seems to trust you at least a little bit.

Hoshi stares down at the can in his hand, mindlessly stirring the chili with his fork.

"I'm not sure why you want to know about them so bad," he says quietly.

You consider whether you should for a moment, but you decide to ask him about the photo. Carefully removing it from your pocket, you show him the tattered photograph. His expression changes, the coldness disappearing from his face, replaced by wistfulness and regret.

"I found this in your room. I assume this is them?"

He takes it from you, staring at the eight smiling faces in the photo.

"Yeah, that's them."

"This was from before your expedition," you comment, looking at him for confirmation. He gives you a small nod. The room falls silent again, and you accept that that's the most you're probably ever going to get out of him. You start to get up, figuring you should leave him alone.

"It was the week before we set out."

You freeze. Sitting back into the couch, you look over at him again. He's still staring at the picture.

"It was our Commander's 30th birthday," he continues. "His name was Laughlin, but we all called him Blaze. He accidentally started a fire once in the middle of a training course, and the name stuck."

A smile appears on Hoshi's face. It's subtle, but it's a real, genuine smile.

"Tell me about your past," he says, turning to face you.

"My past?" you respond, thrown off by the sudden request. "Um, well I started out at Axiom training in the Research Department, but then I was switched over to Tactical—"

"No," Hoshi cuts you off. "I don't mean that. I mean before Axiom."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what you did prior to joining the Company. Your job, your hobbies, your family, anything."

"Well, I…" you start to tell him, but your mind spins. You rack your brain, trying to picture your life before all this, but you're completely drawing a blank.

"I… can't remember?" you say quietly. You think about your parents, your mom, your dad. You know they exist — so why can't you picture their faces? You try to think about your siblings, but did you even have any? You don't know.

Your heart starts to pound in your chest. You jump to your feet, beginning to pace around the room.

"Why can't I remember?" you whisper, barely audible. You suddenly feel very dizzy.

"It's okay, don't panic," he tells you calmly. But it's too late — your chest has already tightened, and you feel like you're going to throw up. You don't know what else to do, so you bolt upstairs.

"Commander!" Hoshi calls after you, but with your heartbeat pounding in your ears you barely hear him. You run back into the bedroom, slamming the blue door shut behind you. You fall to the ground, your back to the door as you try to steady your breathing. You don't ever remember having panic attacks before, but then again you apparently don't remember anything at all.

You hear the doorknob turn above your head. Hoshi tries to open the door, but it doesn't budge with you slumped against it. He pounds on the door, the knocks thumping against your back.

"Let me in," he insists, but you barely even hear him. He sighs, turning the knob again and forcing the door open with his body weight. It opens enough for him to slip inside; he picks you up off the ground, lifting you with ease and carrying you across the room. He sets you on the bed, sitting down beside you.

"Hey, breathe," he instructs, shaking you gently but firmly. It brings you back to reality a bit; your eyes are able to focus on your surroundings again. "Take a deep breath, you're starting to hyperventilate."

You do as he says, inhaling and exhaling slowly several times. Finally, the panic dissipates. You turn to look at Hoshi beside you.

"Why can't I remember?" you ask again, your voice wavering. He sighs.

"It's a long story, but I'll explain. Do you remember what you told me about Axiom's history before?"

You nod. That was only a few days prior, but it feels like ages ago.

"Well, most of everything you said is true. But there's more — secrets they kept from you and me and almost everybody. There's a reason you don't remember anything about your past: nobody does. And there's good reason for it. Because if the truth got out, the Company would go down in flames."

"That's what you said before, 'the truth'," you recall.

"I wasn't lying when I said it's a tough pill to swallow," he reminds you. "I didn't want to believe it at first, either. But it all goes back to the initial discovery of the Backrooms. It was an accident, a byproduct of a top-secret government experiment conducted as part of research efforts to create a new weapon of mass destruction — one that would make the atomic bomb look like child's play. Word got out, spreading to various government agencies, and people were pissed. Almost everyone opposed the development of the new bomb, so they said they were halting the research. But they lied. A whistleblower eventually exposed them, leading to a massive strike amongst the scientists and engineers working on classified government projects. But the government didn't budge — they executed the whistleblower, hoping to instill fear that would lead to compliance, but it backfired. It instigated an uprising, the scientists and researchers fighting back, but despite their numbers they were no match for the militarized response units. Those who weren't killed were imprisoned and forced into menial labor. That's when Axiom comes along — the 'wealthy donors' it boasts of as its founders were on the government's payroll. The Company was founded as a ruse, pretending to be a neutral third party purely interested in the research, but they quickly rounded up the prisoners to use for their dirty work. But even with brute force and violence, the scientists refused to work. They knew they couldn't just kill them all off — they were far too valuable of assets. So they came up with an alternative solution: implant a neural chip in everyone's heads. The chip repressed memories, and with that they had a blank slate of brilliant minds to brainwash into compliance. Those who were least valuable were sent into the Backrooms first, guinea pigs sent off to their deaths. Once the imprisoned scientists were milked of their knowledge and no longer useful for research purposes, they shipped them off to training for the tactical units to send on their little expeditions. Smart, obedient, but also disposable — it was the perfect source of labor for the job."

You stare blankly at Hoshi, processing everything he just told you. I was right, you think to yourself. He is actually insane.

"You don't believe me," he observes.

"How do you expect me to believe… all that?? This is ridiculous."

"Think about it," he insists. "What other explanation could there be for you not remembering anything pre-Axiom?"

"I don't know!" you shout in frustration, rising to your feet as you begin to pace again. "But surely there's a much more likely explanation than that—"

Hoshi stands, grabbing your shoulder and spinning you back around to face him. He glares down at you, an intense fiery gaze, as he grasps onto your wrists tightly. Your heart begins to pound again in fear — you're stuck here, deep in the fucking Backrooms, in the clutch of a crazy delusional man. What if he kills you? What if this is the end?

He raises your right hand to your head, pressing your fingers into your scalp above your right ear. As he pushes further, you feel something… sharp. It's small, but you wince as it nearly pricks your finger.

"There's your truth," he says quietly. You stare up at him, wide-eyed with disbelief.

"How… how did you figure this out?"

He lets go of your right hand; with his free hand he removes the bandana tied around his forehead, sliding if off his head and dropping it to the floor.

"Look," he says, tilting his head to the side. You let out a soft gasp. Above his right ear, previously concealed by the bandana, is a large, deep gash. It's old enough to be mostly healed, thick scar tissue filling in the wound, but you can tell it's still somewhat recent.

"What happened?" you whisper.

"An Alpha tried to rip my head off," he smirks. "I was fast enough to avoid death, but it still got me pretty good."

He lifts your left hand, drawing it in to the scar. You resist, trying to pull your hand away, but he doesn't let go.

"It's okay, it doesn't hurt," he assured you. "In fact I can't even feel anything there."

He guides your fingers into a groove in the healed skin. As he presses them into his head you feel a similar sharp sensation, but smaller, and more of them.

"I guess it hit me just right," he says with a slight huff of a laugh. "It broke the chip, and suddenly I remembered everything. I was free again. Except, of course I'm not really. I'm still stuck in this fucking hellscape. Some days I wish I had never learned the truth — it would be less painful that way."

The truth. You think back to your recurring dream. What if it wasn't a dream at all, but a memory?

You suddenly realize how close you are to him right now. It should be far too intimate, but you don't want to move for a second.

"Did you tell your crew?" you ask him.

"Yes. Fortunately, they believed me. One by one we helped each other remove the chips. None of us were surgeons, so that part was a bit rough," he grimaces. "But once they were gone, they too remembered everything. The only—"

He stops himself. That part isn't important, you don't need to know about it. But for some reason, he decides to tell you anyway.

"The only member of our crew who didn't remove their chip was Blaze."

"Your Commander," you affirm softly. He nods. "Why not?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I don't know much about his past — but think some part of his unconscious mind remembered something, something too painful experience all over again. I tried to convince him several times, but he didn't want to. So I respected that. But then we made it to Level 9. We'd only lost one crew member up until that point, but the Zetas started to pick us off one by one. Before long, it was just him and I left. He told me he decided he wanted to remove his chip. I was going to do it that night, once we got back to base camp, but he didn't make it back."

Without thinking, you cradle his face in your palm. He inhales sharply, looking into your eyes with equal parts surprise and want.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. He reaches up to take your wrist in his grasp again, rubbing his thumb slowly over the back of your hand. His eyes close as his head drops, his forehead falling against yours.

"You don't have to be sorry," he mutters. Opening his eyes again, he meets your gaze. Your heart palpitates in your chest, the intimacy making you ache with need. Then, you kiss him.

Your lips crash into his, leaving him momentarily stunned, but quickly his hands drop to your sides, grasping at your waist urgently as he kisses you back. Your hands cling to his face as you press your body into him; he lets out a soft moan into your mouth, making your core throb. His arms squeeze around your torso, drawing you in as close as possible, hands wandering desperately as he eagerly explores every curve of your body. You wrap your arms around his head, clinging to him as you grind against him.

"Fuck," he groans against your lips. Suddenly you are lifted in the air as he picks you up, carrying you back to the bed where he lays you down gently. He crawls on top of you; your legs instinctively open, wrapping around his hips as he presses his weight into you. You pull him back into a kiss, hungrily tugging at his lips once more. You push your hips up against him, your center greeted by a stiffening bulge and drawing another moan out of him.

You sigh as his mouth wanders to your chin, kissing along your jawline up to your earlobe and nipping at it; his lips return to your neck, planting soft, slow pecks into the delicate skin as he works his way down to your collarbone. Your soft whines are driving him insane already; he abruptly sits up, taking off his shirt. He reaches for yours as well, prying it over your head and dropping it to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra, discarding it aside and immediately grasping at your breasts, tugging and kneading the soft flesh in his hands while pinching your nipples between his fingers.

"You're amazing, so fucking hot," he praises. He steals another kiss before hopping up and tugging at your waistband. You hurriedly unbutton your pants, wriggling out of them as he follows suit. As he slips his pants down his thighs his cock comes into view, erect and red with anticipation; the mere sight of it makes your mouth water.

He reaches for your bare pussy as he lays down beside you; you whine softly as his fingers discover the pooling wetness present between your legs.

"God, you're so fucking wet, fuck…"

You let out a moan as his fingers slip inside you, lazily working them in and out of your pussy, your slick collecting on his hand and glistening in the dim lighting.

"That's it, let me hear you baby," he encourages. You let go, moaning unrestrained as you let your hips rock to his touch, grinding your clit against the heel of his hand. It feels incredible, like you never want him to stop touching you.

"Fuck," he hisses through gritted teeth. He leans over, licking your nipple with the tip of his tongue. He starts to swirl his tongue around it, eliciting a string of whimpering from you, curling his fingertips to press against your g-spot.

"Oh my god," you groan, your head falling back onto the pillow.

"So pretty, so perfect," he croons, switching to your other nipple, wetting it with his saliva and dragging his tongue in circles around the bud.

"Feels so good," you mutter breathily, your body writhing as a burning heat swells in your gut.

"Go on, cum for me baby, I wanna see."

He wraps his lips around your nipple, latching on as he sucks on it, his hand speeding its pace. You feel your release wash over you, whining as you cum on his fingers, their deep strokes sending thick pulses of pleasure through your whole body. He slows as you do, releasing his mouth from your breast and lifting his head so he can kiss you again, long and slow, so he can savor it. He slips his fingers out of you, sticking them in his mouth and lapping up your juices, moaning at the taste of you.

You've barely caught your breath when he rolls over on top of you. His tip brushes against your wet cunt; he strokes it up and down over your folds a few times before pressing into your entrance. His cock slips inside, making you gasp, slowly filling you with his whole length.

"Ready?" he asks softly. You nod eagerly, eyes begging him to fuck you. He drags his cock out of you, almost all the way, then plunges it back in, watching himself disappear inside you. The sight is tantalizing, but his eyes meet yours again, falling deep into your gaze as he fucks you with slow, measured strokes. Your arms snake around his torso, clinging to the warm skin of his back as he presses his forehead into yours, his breath becoming more labored with each accelerating thrust. Your shift your hips forward, allowing his cock to reach even deeper inside you, eliciting a string of moans from your throat.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispers, lips hovering above yours as his eyes remained locked with yours. "Never wanna leave this pussy."

"Please don't stop," you beg, voice breathy and desperate.

"I won't baby."

He fucks you with burning desire, each powerful stroke sending a delicious shockwave through your body. You cling to him tight, drawing him in even further into a passionate embrace. He groans, savoring the divine way your body squishes against his.

"You're amazing," he mutters into your mouth, frantic kisses placed upon your lips as he tries not to cum just yet — but it's an impossible feat. "Such a perfect little pussy, gonna fill you up baby. Gonna make you nice and full with my cum."

"Please," you whine.

"Keep begging for it, pretty girl," he hums, beginning to lose composure.

"I want your cum," you plead. "Want you to cum inside me and fill me up."

"God, that's so fucking hot," he growls.

"Your cock feels so good," you continue babbling, mind spinning so much you can no longer think straight. "I want you to fuck me every day for the rest of my life."

"I will, baby, I will."

His hand caresses your cheek, rubbing at the warm skin with his thumb as he stares into your watering eyes — utterly intoxicated by you.

"I'm cumming," he groans. "Ohhhh…"

With a series of grunts he releases, powerful ropes of cum shooting up into you as his cock throbs against your squeezing walls. After several bursts he slows, his cock stilling deep inside your cunt as his heavy breaths fall against your lips. He collapses, laying his weight on you as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. You drag your fingertips up and down his back, delicately dancing across his hot skin and rippling muscles.

"Fuck," he mumbles into the mattress, making you smile. He eventually lifts his head up, kissing you again. "You're incredible."

He slowly pulls his cock out of you, rolling over to your side taking you in his arms. He rests his hand on your belly, planting gentle kisses on your cheek as he holds you.

"Tell me your name," he hums softly into your ear after a few silent minutes.

"It's y/n," you reply, falling into a deep relaxation in his embrace. "Tell me your name."

"Soonyoung," he says quietly.

You lay together, the uncomfortable silence of Level 9 forgotten as the sounds of your breathing and the thumps of your heartbeats fill the air. Eventually, you're unsure whether he's fallen asleep beside you.

"Do you ever think we'll get out of here?" you try anyway.

"No," he replies plainly.

"Why keep going then?"

He thinks for a while. "I don't know," he finally says. "I've been stuck in here so long that this is all I know anymore."

"Do you dream of going back, to your life before?"

You feel him shake his head. "Those are such distant memories at this point. Sometimes I don't even know if they are real or if it's all in my head."

You think back to before, when you questioned whether he was insane and delusional. You think you believe him, about Axiom, about the chip in your head — though, something inside you still isn't entirely convinced. But you're not even sure if any of that matters at this point.

"But it doesn't matter," he continues. "I'm here now, and I can't go back. The only way is forward."

"Does that mean you're trying to find Level 10?" you ask.

"I know where a Null Zone is," he replies.

Surprised, you turn to look at him. "Why haven't you gone yet?"

He sighs. "I lost hope after my I lost my crew. I didn't want to walk further into hell by myself. But I couldn't bring myself to end it all either — so here I am, stuck here in limbo."

You gaze at him, a soft smile appearing on your face. He stares back at you, hopeful.

"I'll go with you," you say quietly. He smiles again — another true smile. You think it suits him well.

"I'd like that."

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You were having a perfectly normal Saturday until your roommate accidentally ate one of your weed brownies.

Seungcheol was hosting a party tonight at his place. Jihyo was currently out of town on a work trip, and your other roommate Seungkwan had been gaming all day, so you had spent a nice, quiet afternoon baking chocolate chip cookies from scratch to take with you later. Once the cookies were cooled and packed neatly into some tupperware, all that was left was for you to shower and get yourself ready — but first you decided to treat yourself to one of the special brownies you had made the day before. Just a little something to take the edge off — besides, people were bound to be partaking at the party anyway, so if you showed up a little high no one would notice or care.

You take your shower and get dressed. By the time you get to your makeup, you're feeling pleasantly mellowed out. Finishing off with mascara, you grab your purse and head out to the main room to see if your roommate is ready to go yet. As you pass the kitchen you see him standing in there.

"Hey, you ready to go?" you ask. "I can call the Uber if you wan—"

You freeze mid sentence as you realize he is standing next to the opened container of your brownies, dark brown fudgy crumbles sticking to his lips.

"Oh no…"

Seungkwan turns to face you, looking slightly embarrassed to be caught in the act.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I know these were for the party, but I figured it'd be okay for me to have one now. I haven't eaten since breakfast so I was getting hungry."

"Seungkwan," you say quietly. "How many did you eat?"

"Just one," he answers, . "I'm sorry y/n, I shouldn't have taken it without asking—"

"No no, that's not the problem," you cut him off. "Those… aren't for the party though." You point over at the tupperware sitting on the table. "The cookies are."

He looks over at the cookies, then back to the brownies.

"Oh."

"And, uh… Those have weed in them."

You watch as he processes your words, abject horror washing over his face.

"Oh no," he mumbles, clutching his forehead in distress as he stares off into space.

You know for a fact that Seungkwan has consumed weed exactly once in his whole life: at a frat party in college, where he took one singular much-too-fat bong rip that very nearly made him throw up on the spot and quickly sent him into a panic attack. You did your best to calm him down, but once he started sobbing you had no choice but to drag him up two flights of stairs and knock on the door of the room he shared with Jeonghan. Jeonghan, who was very clearly about to have sex with his girlfriend, opened the door with a scowl on his face — but when he saw the state his roommate was in he just rolled his eyes, helping you drag a stumbling Seungkwan over to his bed. His girlfriend glared at you as she marched out of the room, as if this was somehow all your fault, but you were too busy worrying about your friend to concern yourself with that. Jeonghan assured you he would take care of Seungkwan, informing you the next day that once he finally stopped crying he just laid there catatonic for a bit before eventually falling asleep. He didn't show up to any of his classes that day, allegedly too hungover — but you're pretty sure he was also just plain mortified. He swore he'd never touch any form of weed ever again, a promise which you know he's kept — until now.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize profusely, feeling terrible about what you've inadvertently done. "I should have labeled them or something, this is all my fault…"

Seungkwan shakes his head. "No, this one's on me. I should have at least asked." He runs his hand through his hair, looking deeply stressed. "Oh god, this is so bad, I'm such a fucking idiot—"

"You're not an idiot, you just made a mistake."

"Well, we all know what happened last time," he grimaces. "And that was only one hit." His face turns frighteningly pale as the severity of the situation starts to sink in. He begins to visibly panic, pacing around the kitchen frantically. "Oh my god I'm so fucked—"

"Hey," you say softly, quickly walking over to him and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Look at me." He obeys, stilling himself as he stares back at you — eyes round and fearful.

"It's gonna be okay," you reassure him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But what about the party?" he asks timidly.

You shake your head. "Forget the party. I'm not leaving you alone while you're high."

"It's okay," he declines glumly. "You don't have to babysit me—"

"Yes, I do," you insist. "I've seen how you get after like two beers, and you just took around 10mg of THC."

"Is that a lot?" he asks nervously.

"For you, yeah."

"Oh god," he mumbles, burying his face in his hands.

"Hey, you're gonna be fine," you insist. You give him a pat on the head, not realizing until you're doing it that that's probably kind of weird. You quickly drop your hand as he looks back up at you. "I'll order us a pizza — I also had brownie already, so laying around watching a movie or something sounds pretty good to me right now anyway."

"You had one too?" he asks, looking befuddled. "How are you so normal right now??"

You try not to giggle, but a smile pokes at the corners of your mouth. "Well, it hasn't fully hit yet, but also I'm used to it."

"How long does it take to kick in?"

"Depends," you answer. "But usually around an hour, give or take. Since you haven't eaten it'll probably be faster for you."

"Oh goody."

You pull your phone of your bag, opening the delivery app and typing pizza into the search.

"How do you feel about stuffed crust?"

"Oh man, stuffed crust was the right choice."

Seungkwan shoves the last bite of his slice into his mouth, humming with delight at the cheesy goodness. While you were waiting for your pizza delivery got here, Seungkwan was already starting to feel the effect of the brownie. Before he could freak out, you had tucked him under a weighted blanket on the couch and put How It's Made on the tv. The calmness of the show surprisingly seemed to work — instead of having a panic attack he simply laid there, fully locked into learning about how hammers are made in a factory.

By the time the pizza had arrived, Seungkwan was floating off into space — and admittedly, you were as well. Between the two of you, you nearly polished off the whole pizza in record time, leaving you satisfyingly full and sinking pleasantly into opposite ends of the couch. Few words are exchanged for the next several minutes, the both of you staring at the tv where you were now learning how cheese is made. Soon, the episode ends; as you're fumbling around for the remote you realize you had shifted into laying sideways on the couch, your feet tossed over Seungkwan's extended leg as he reclines, sinking into the sofa's other end.

"Oh shit, sorry," you mumble as you move your feet off of him.

"Hm?" he asks, staring at you blankly from half-shut, bloodshot eyes without moving his body an inch. You giggle, smiling lazily at him.

"You're fucking blasted, dude," you tell him, straining to get the words out of your mouth.

"Yeah," he agrees blindly, having no idea what you said but just going with it, which only sends you into another fit of giggles.

"How're you feeling?" you question, slowly sitting back up on the couch. He stares at you for a moment, the gears visibly turning in his head as he tries to form an answer.

"Umm…" he starts, trailing off for so long that you begin to wonder if he's fallen asleep with his eyes open — but finally, he remembers that he exists. "I feel………weird," he answers.

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"I dunno," he mutters. "Both, I guess."

"Hey," you say to him, your eyes starting to zone out. Blinking as few times, your sight refocuses on his face — his cheeks and ears tinged hot pink. "You're doing great. For real — I thought this was going to be so much worse."

"Don't speak too soon," he replies, his words slurring slightly. "How long is this gonna last?"

"Um, probably like… a few hours? But it depends."

"I think I've been here for a million years already," he laments, making you grin.

"I regret to inform you that it's only been…" You reach for your phone, checking the time as the screen illuminates. "Likeee, an hour? I think."

"Oh god," he groans. "I'm gonna die like this."

"No, you're not," you tell him sternly, stifling down your laughter. "Here, what's your favorite comfort movie?"

"Ummm… " he thinks out loud, furrowing his brow as he tries to rack his brain — a difficult task considering that his head feels like it's full of soup right now. "I don't know, I can't think."

"Okay, what's any movie you like?"

Seungkwan's face scrunches as he concentrates all his effort on trying to come up with the name of any movie. "Mamma Mia," he answers finally.

"Perfect. We'll watch that."

You locate the film on Netflix and put it on, the melody to "I Have a Dream" beginning to play as the movie begins. You quickly get absorbed in the music, humming along to the familiar tune. When the number is over, you glance over at Seungkwan, his face looking sickly pale again.

"Hey, you good?"

"I think I'm scared," he responds quietly, looking in the direction of the tv screen but clearly zoned out.

"Wait right here," you tell him as you slowly hoist yourself off the couch, as if he was going to be going anywhere. You shuffle over to the kitchen and retrieve a glass of ice water, bringing it back to your disheveled roommate.

"Here," you say as you grab his forearm, pulling him up into a sitting position. He blinks dully as you hand him the cup. "Drink this."

He obeys, lifting the rim of the glass to his lips and sipping on the water. You notice his body trembling slightly — you're not sure if he's cold or just freaking out, but regardless you grab the blanket again and wrap it around him. He gratefully accepts, huddling himself in its fabric. The way it's draped over his head like a hood, with only his round face poking out makes you giggle again. He peers up at you through soft, glassy eyes, looking pathetic but adorable.

"What?" he inquires softly.

"Nothing," you grin, sitting down on the couch next to him. "You just kinda look like E.T."

"Hey!"

"No, I mean it in a good way!" you laugh. "I swear."

Seungkwan pretends to pout, but the smile spreading across his cheeks gives him away.

You sit in silence together for a few minutes, attention shifted back to the movie. A distant memory suddenly resurfaces in your foggy mind — you're not sure where it came from, but you start to giggle again. Seungkwan glances over at you, a confused look on his already-dazed face.

"Do you remember that time we got lost in New Orleans on spring break?" you ask him, pulling your feet up onto the couch and tucking them beside you. He can't help but notice that you've scooted closer to him, prompting his heart to flutter anxiously in his chest.

"You mean, when Soonyoung insisted he knew of a haunted cemetery 'just down the block' from Bourbon Street? And then we ended up on the complete opposite side of town from our hotel?" Seungkwan asks with a grin, trying his best to keep his heavy eyelids from fluttering closed. "Yeah, that rings a bell."

"I'm not sure who was dumber, Soonyoung for thinking he knew his way around a city he'd never been to, or us for trusting him."

"In my defense, I was extremely drunk," Seungkwan points out. "My sense of judgment was a bit impaired."

"We all were, which I think was the problem," you giggle. "I distinctly remember you threatening to turn Soonyoung into a ghost yourself."

Seungkwan laughs. "Well, I don't remember that part, but I believe you."

"Yeah, I think I had to stop you from murdering him at least four separate times."

"Sounds about right."

"Well, at least we eventually made it back without anyone getting murdered," you smile. "It is pretty funny in retrospect."

"Yeah, shoutout to that taxi driver," Seungkwan nods. "I kinda thought he was going to murder us at first too, but turns out he was super nice."

"Shoutout Steve, for real," you nod in agreement. Noticing something, you lean over toward your roommate; Seungkwan starts to panic, thinking you were going to kiss him completely out of the blue — but you brush your finger across his cheek.

"You had an eyelash," you comment, reclining back into the couch again — noticeably closer than before. Seungkwan's body untenses a bit. Not that he would be opposed to you kissing him — hell, it's something he's thought about off and on ever since he met you. But if you had done it without warning, right now while he's stoned out of his mind, he would've panicked.

He goes back to staring at the tv, but he's not paying attention to anything that's happening on it. He can't seem to get his mind off you, something he's worked very hard on ever since he signed the lease and moved in with you and Jihyo — and he's gotten quite good at it. But thanks to the dumb weed brownie he stupidly ate, it's become increasingly difficult to exert self-control right now. You had changed out of the outfit you were planning to wear to the party, which was good considering how low-cut your top had been. But the thin sweatpants and tank top you changed into are proving to be infinitely worse. He's seen you without a bra countless times by now, but he's used to ignoring it — a task that's proving to be impossible right now. His eyes keep flickering over to your boobs, as if your nipples poking through the fabric were pulling his gaze in with a magnet. Thankfully you seem to be too high to notice, but he doesn't know how much longer he can contain himself. Eventually, you shiver, crossing your arms to huddle into yourself a bit, which only draws more attention to your cleavage.

"Are you cold? Here," he says to you in a brief moment of clarity, unwrapping the blanket from around himself and offering it to you. You take the other half, scooting in closer so you can both share the blanket. Shit.

He tells himself that since he can't see your body anymore, it'll be fine. He can just ignore the fact that you're so close to him, your thigh pressing into his, your shoulder resting against his arm. But your body heat starts to make him far too hot beneath the blanket. He wishes to throw it off himself, hand the rest of it to you — but he can't. The damn blanket is the only thing stopping you from seeing the massive boner growing in his pants right now. His plan not only failed, but has now backfired horrendously.

He tries and tries to get his mind off of you, tries to think of the most boring, turn-off-ish things he can possibly muster up — but his mind doesn't want to think about taxes or his grandmother or the mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell. All he can think of is you, and it's driving him fucking crazy.

The urge to touch himself soon becomes unbearable. You're too out of it to register the torturous state he's currently in; you can tell that he's tense, but you just assume it's general weed-induced anxiety. He closes his eyes, shifting in his seat slightly, his cock straining against the fabric of his shorts — but it's no use. He is utterly desperate for relief.

Maybe I can go to the bathroom, he thinks. Maybe getting away from you for a few minutes will help. He's pretty sure he could rub one out in thirty seconds at this point — just cum real quick and get it over with.

Or… She could jerk me off, an evil voice inside his head whispers to him.

The mere thought of your hand on his cock, touching him, is too much to handle. He throws the blanket aside, bolting out of the room before you can see the tent in his pants.

"I'llberightback!!" he shouts, voice nearly cracking. He's gone before you can turn around, his footsteps echoing as he runs down the hallway, followed by the SLAM! of his bedroom door.

You stare at the now-empty hallway, your fried mind trying to process what just happened. Eventually you hoist yourself off the couch, slowly sauntering after him.

"Seungkwan?" you call out as you approach his closed door. You softly knock twice, but then register the heavy breathing coming from the other side. "You okay?"

Silence follows, punctuated only by his deep inhales and exhales.

"I'm fine," he eventually squeaks.

"You don't sound fine," you reply. "And you're not a good liar."

Seungkwan sighs, head thumping against the door as he slumps against it further. He still doesn't answer; you roll your eyes, tapping at the door again.

"Seungkwan."

"Can I ask you something?" he finally says, his timid voice wavering slightly.

"Sure," you answer.

"But you CAN'T laugh at me," he adds insistently.

"I won't," you agree softly.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

He's certain he's going to regret this, but with another deep sigh he just goes for it.

"Is weed supposed to give me a boner?" he asks quietly.

You slap your hand over your mouth, stifling the burst of laughter that threatens to escape you. You promised you wouldn't laugh, but you weren't expecting him to ask that.

"Um, I mean… weed can definitely make you kinda horny, yeah," you answer him.

"This isn't 'kinda'," he replies before he can stop himself. "This is violent."

You picture his cock in your mind, painfully hard and bulging in his shorts. The fact that that's exactly what's happening on the other side of the door, right now, makes your stomach drop. You instinctively squeeze your thighs together, your core hot and aching for relief — but the added stimulation only makes things worse.

You know you shouldn't say anything. Seungkwan is your roommate — you get along well and have been good friends for years now. You have a great, completely 100% platonic relationship, and you'd be devastated if anything were to happen to that.

But you're high, your pussy is wet, and you do not care.

"I could help you," you say quietly through the door.

Seungkwan thinks he must be hearing things. There's no fucking way you just said what he thought you said. Right?

"I—What?" his voice quivers back, his inflection tinged with genuine disbelief.

"You could let me in, if you want," you reply, treading cautiously. "I can help you."

Seungkwan's dick throbs. He grabs the bulge in his fist, squeezing it lightly. This could be her instead, he thinks. If the room wasn't spinning around him before, it is now.

He opens the door, cracking it open just enough to poke his head out.

"Are you sure?" he asks hesitantly. You step into the narrow opening, your face leaning in so close to his that your noses brush.

"I am."

The soft utterance of your words fall hot onto his lips. Without another thought he swings the door open; you immediately step through the threshold, your hands falling to his waist as you kiss him. His hands gravitate to your neck, holding you delicately as he finally gets to kiss you for the first time. You grab him and spin him around, shutting the door behind him and pinning him against it as you bite gently but eagerly at his bottom lip.

"Fuck," he gasps as you push your body into his, his stiff cock bulging against your stomach as your hands slip beneath his t-shirt, gliding over his warm and soft skin.

"Poor baby, you're so hard," you mutter before kissing him again, making a tiny whimper escape his throat. Your lips trail across his face, planting fragile pecks on his supple cheeks.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he mumbles, his eyes falling shut as your lips migrate to the other side of his face, leaving no spot unkissed. His hands slowly drop from your neck, resting on your breasts and giving them a squeeze; you knew he had large, strong hands, but you never expected them to feel so incredible touching you like this.

A louder moan escapes him as you place one hand onto his bulge.

"Tell me what you need, baby," you croon. You stare into his dark eyes, forehead pressed against his, as you begin to massage his cock through his shorts. His jaw drops, mouth hanging slightly open, his eyelids fluttering shut at your touch.

I need you in every way humanly possible, he wants to tell you. But there's one thing in particular — something he's quite literally dreamt about a shameful amount of times before — that he wants more than anything.

"Let me go down on you," he answers, opening his eyes again to gaze into yours. His voice is low and husky, sending an excited rumble through your gut. "Please."

You nod, staring back at him with overwhelming desire. Seungkwan has always been undeniably handsome, but you've never had feelings for him like this before. Maybe it's the weed, maybe you've just been single for a while now and have been yearning for physical intimacy. But it doesn't matter — the only thing that matters right now is that Seungkwan wants you, and you want him.

"I'd love that," you whisper into his open mouth.

Before you know it, you're on his bed, Seungkwan hurriedly stripping your sweatpants and underwear off. He lays himself between your spread legs, positioning his face near your bare pussy.

"Fuck, baby," he mumbles as he runs two fingers through your drenched folds. "You're so wet."

You sigh as he touches you, spreading your juices around and tracing his fingertips over your swelling clit. Looking down at him, he's staring hungrily at your pussy, practically drooling at the sight before him. With a lick of his lips he gazes up at you, holding eye contact as he drags his tongue over your slit. The tiniest bit of pressure and the warmth of his mouth bring relief to your aching cunt, but immediately leave you craving more.

Slowly his tongue dances across your folds, the taste of you flooding his mouth as he laps up your slick arousal — delicious and utterly irresistible.

"Tastes so fucking good," he moans. You cry out softly as he slips his tongue into your hole, leisurely swirling it around inside you. The tip of his nose brushes against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Instinctively your hips begin to rock, rubbing your clit over his nose as you tenderly run fingers through his soft brown locks. He begins to increase his pace, working his tongue in and out of your hole, stopping only to suck at it gently before returning to fucking you. Your grip on his hair slowly tightens, holding his head in its position as you start to grind on his face. Eventually he licks up to your clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive bud.

"Oh my goddd," you groan. Soft whimpers escape your lips as he eagerly eats you out; the sound is overwhelming — his hips begin to thrust, rubbing his painfully erect cock against the mattress, making him moan into your pussy. Soon he latches onto your clit, sucking at it with increasing intensity, and the sensation is heavenly. A white-hot fire burns in your gut, and you start to feel your orgasm building.

"That feels so good, baby," you whine, clutching at his hair as he sucks on your throbbing clit. "Don't stop."

And he doesn't. He eats your pussy as if it's his last meal on earth, making you moan so loud that the neighbors can certainly hear it, but you're too high and it feels too good for that to even be a concern. Your head falls back onto the pillows as your back begins to arch, your body trembling as he ceaselessly suckles your clit. Seungkwan's arms around your thighs tighten as he grasps onto you, humping the bed desperately as your cries grow louder still. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train — your mind goes blank, an eruption of fireworks overtaking you as your body writhes with pleasure. All you can think of while you release is Seungkwan, Seungkwan, Seungkwan…

You aren't aware that you're also saying it out loud, moaning his name over and over again, but he is. It's all too much — he groans as his hips buck into the bed, cum spurting from his cock and making a fucking mess in his pants.

He couldn't care less. That was incredible, one of best orgasms of his life — and he did it hands-free, face buried in your pussy.

He licks you softly as you both start to come down from your climax, the rush of endorphins combined with the intoxication of the weed making you both feel like you are blissfully floating away into space. A tenderly-placed kiss on your tingling clit zaps you back to reality; you slowly open your eyes, the sight of Seungkwan still between your legs making you grin lazily. You release the clutch you still have on his hair, relaxing your hand as you stroke your fingers through the pretty brown tendrils.

"That was," you say to him between slow, deep breaths, "fucking amazing."

It takes a gargantuan effort, but he lifts his heavy head up to look at you. His eyes are still bloodshot and glazed over, gazing up at you with pure adoration.

"Yeah," he sighs, a big cheesy smile overtaking his round and reddened cheeks. "It was."

It takes your high mind a moment to register that he looks far too relaxed for someone who was previously ragingly aroused. Then, it hits you.

"Did you…" you start hesitantly. He nods before you even finish your question.

"Yeah, I came," he answers, an embarrassed grin coloring his face. "Sorry…"

"Don't be sorry," you tell him, your face prickling with heat. "That's kind of, um, super hot actually."

He flops his head back down onto the bed, unmoving from his current position.

"I'm still so fucking horny," he groans, his voice muffled by the sheets. "This is ridiculous."

"I have great news," you say to him, prompting him to poke his head up again. "I am too. And I really want you to fuck me."

His poor cock starts to throb again. His erection hasn't gone down at all despite cumming already, and now it's becoming achingly stiff once more.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he responds, but desire starts to darken his eyes once more.

"C'mere," you say, grabbing his hand and tugging at his arm. He slowly drags himself up the bed, plopping down on his back and laying beside you. Where his cock lay thick and bulging in his shorts, you see it surrounded by several large, darkened spots on the light fabric where his cum had seeped through. You reach for his waistband, tugging it down and over his dick as you peel his shorts and sticky-wet boxers off his body. You lean over and start to lick the cum off of his stomach, prompting him to let out a euphoric groan.

"Jesus Christ, you're filthy."

"Want me to stop?" you tease, hovering your mouth over his shaft.

"Fuck no," he grins. You drag your tongue up and down his length, taking your time as you clean up the remainder of his mess as he watches gluttonously. His cock starts to leak again, the clear sticky fluid dribbling from his tip and pooling onto his stomach.

"Fuck, I need you," he mumbles, wrapping his hand tightly around your wrist and pulling you back up to him. As you rest your head back onto the pillow he reaches for your tank top, stripping it off of you and freeing your breasts.

"Holy shit," he groans, quickly attaching his mouth to your nearest nipple. You whine as he eagerly sucks on it, nipping gently with his teeth.

"That feels so good," you praise, petting his hair again as you watch him. He switches to your other boob, licking at the nipple as he squeezes the soft flesh in his hand. He goes back and forth for several minutes, eventually making you wriggle and whimper beneath his grasp as arousal overtakes you once more.

Eventually he releases his mouth from your breast. He removes his shirt, tossing it to the floor as he suddenly rolls over on top of you. You gasp softly, your legs opening around him as his cock hovers before your core. You reach for it, giving him a few strokes as you position the head by your entrance. Slowly he pushes it in, leaving your mouth agape as he begins to fill you up. The stretch is divine. He takes his time, letting you get used to him as he goes deeper and deeper inside you. As he bottoms out you let out a small whimper, staring up at him desperately. He leans in to kiss you on the lips.

"I'll go slow," he whispers.

"Don't," you whisper back.

Your gaze is lustful, eyes begging, pleading for him to fuck you and to fuck you now. He begins to move his hips, pulling his cock out nearly all the way, then pushing it back in. Then repeat. And repeat. And repeat, but faster. Your mewls grow louder as he thrusts into you; his strokes are long and measured — if he goes any faster he's going to lose control, and he wants to take his time, wants to savor you.

He keeps that up for as long as he can, which isn't very long at all. Your moans and whimpers quickly start to send him into a frenzy, fucking you fast and hard as your walls squeeze delectably around his cock. He leans down to kiss you, locking lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth as he ceaselessly fucks you; you wrap your arms around his torso, nails digging into his back as you cling to him, holding his body tightly against yours.

Seungkwan feels the heat building in his gut. He fucks you and kisses you and moans into your mouth and holds you tight. Nothing has ever felt better in his life than your pretty little pussy feels around his cock right now; he simply can't get enough of you.

Soon his body is quivering, his thrusts becoming frantic as his orgasm nears. His groans turn whiny, utterly desperate and depraved, as do yours.

"Cum in me," you beg, and that's enough to send him over the edge. He releases, crying out with pure pleasure as he pumps powerful bursts of cum deep into your pussy. The sensation of him filling you up is like nothing else; moans escape your lips as his cock pulses inside you, giving you every last drop of his cum.

Finally, he collapses on top of you, unable to hold himself up any longer. You hug him, squeezing him into you as you plant a string of kisses on his cheek and neck.

"Heyyy stop it," he giggles, barely able to form words between heaving breaths.

"What, are you ticklish?" you tease.

"Pshhh, no," he huffs dismissively.

You tickle his sides. He yelps, hastily grabbing your hands to pry them off of him.

"Okay, okay! Maybe a little bit," he laughs. He interlaces his fingers with yours, holding your hands as he softly pins them against the mattress.

"Good to know," you grin, giving him another, slower kiss.

When your lips part again, Seungkwan sits up slightly. He gently pulls his cock out of you; you sigh as the head pops out.

"Let me see, baby," he coos. You release, letting all of his cum spill out of you and onto the bed. He collects some of it on his fingertips, lifting his hand to your face.

"Open."

You do as he says, sticking your tongue out as you accept his cum-covered fingers in your mouth. You suck lightly on them, eagerly lapping up his release once more.

"Good girl," he grins smugly.

"Hey man, you can't just be saying shit like that to me," you say bewilderedly.

"Why, because you like it?"

"Yeah," you answer, a smile creeping across your face. You grab his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks as you pull him in and kiss him. "Exactly."

"Do you wanna shower with me?" he asks without hesitation. You nod, making him grin excitedly. He stumbles as he gets up, clearly still high as a kite. But he makes his way into the bathroom, turning the shower on and waiting for the water warm up.

Once it's pleasantly hot, he comes and fetches you. You spend about the first 10 minutes or so making out, letting the droplets rain down on you as you cling to each other needily. Seungkwan offers to shampoo your hair for you; you accept, letting him run his fingers through your hair as he lathers thoroughly. The head massage relaxes you so deeply that you nearly start to fall asleep standing up — but you manage to stay awake, watching Seungkwan gaze at you fondly as he rinses your hair, then conditions and rinses again.

"Come sleep in my bed," you say to Seungkwan after a very lengthy shower, yawning as you don your jammies — the cute ones, with the teddy bears on them. He pulls a clean pair of boxers on, also looking very sleepy, but his face lights up.

"Okay," he beams excitedly.

His arm rests around your waist as you head to your room together. Crawling into bed, you roll over and wrap your arms around his torso, snuggling in close. His skin is warm, instantly making you feel cozy. You give him one more kiss on the lips, watching as he surrenders to his sleepiness, abandoning the fight to keep his eyes open.

"Goodnight," you whisper, unsure if he is actually asleep already, but a tiny smile flickers across his face.

"Goodnight, y/n," he mumbles back quietly. "Thanks for taking care of me."

You wake the next morning to find yourself still in Seungkwan's arms. Trying not to wake him, you slowly slip out of his grasp; he begins to stir, but then he rolls over and plops onto his stomach, still fast asleep. You check the time: 10:27am. Much later than you normally sleep, but it's not like you had anything else going on today.

Quietly you exit your room and shut the door behind you. Seungkwan is normally an early riser, but you figured you'd let him sleep a little longer. You pour yourself a bowl of cereal, standing in the kitchen and mindlessly scrolling through social media as you eat it. You open Instagram to see pictures from the party last night, posted by your friends. It did look like a fun time, and normally you'd be bummed to have missed out — but you wouldn't trade last night for anything.

You occupy yourself with a bit of cleaning for the next hour or so, waiting for Seungkwan to wake up, but your bedroom door remains silently shut. Eventually you decide to check on him; opening the door slowly, you see him in the exact same spot you left him in.

"Seungkwan," you say softly as you place your hand on his back, but no response. You shake him gently, then a little less gently, until his eyes finally flicker open.

"Hmm?" he hums groggily.

"Good morning," you say cheerfully. He groans, pulling the pillow over his head.

"What time is it?" he asks, voice muffled as he speaks into the mattress.

"Almost noon."

"Shit," he grumbles.

"How are you feeling?" you ask, rubbing his back softly.

"Like I got hit by a bus."

You try to pry the pillow off his head, but he clings to it tightly. You then yank the sheets off of him, making him whine.

"Nooooo I don't wanna," he mumbles. He yelps as you slap him in the ass.

"C'mon, you can't sleep forever."

He emerges from beneath the pillow, rolling onto his back — grabbing your arms in the process and dragging you back into the bed with him.

"Hey!" you protest, but he pulls you into his embrace, squeezing you as he makes you his little spoon. His hand drifts up your shirt, grabbing your boob as he begins to kiss your neck — all while his very obvious boner presses against your ass.

"Okay, so you're still horny."

"Yes," he answers, rutting against you needily.

"You're helpless," you tease. You roll over to face him, greeted with heavily dilated pupils and flushed cheeks.

"I am," he pouts at you, acting pathetic. "You gotta help me."

You roll your eyes. "So what do you think," you ask, palming his cock through his boxers and making him groan. "Wanna do edibles again with me sometime?"

"Hell no," he responds immediately, shaking his head.

"Aw, I thought you had fun," you pout, letting go of his dick.

"No no, I did!" he insists, grabbing your hand and drawing it back to his bulge. "I just, um… I don't think I need to get high to want to have sex with you again," he answers shyly.

A grin spreads across your face. "I like the sound of that," you say as you lean in to kiss him again.

As your lips break free you give him a light shove, pushing him onto his back and climbing over on top of him. You tug at the waistband of his underwear; his eyes widen excitedly. He lifts his hips off the bed you can pull them off, his hard cock springing into view. You were so high last night that you figured everything was just heightened, but now that you're sober you realize that his dick really is big. Mouth watering, you scoot down to position yourself between his legs, spitting on his cock and spreading it over his length with your fist.

"Ohhh, fuck," he sighs, his head falling back into the pillow. But he wants to watch; he lifts his head back up, petting your head gently as you gaze up at him. You bring his cock to your lips, slowly wrapping them around his tip as you lower your mouth onto him. You slowly swallow as much of his length as you can, until the head pokes at the back of your throat; you pause there for a moment, letting him enjoy the sensation, before pushing it further down your esophagus.

"Oh my fucking god," he groans as you gag on him. Your eyes start to water, but you don't stop, letting his cock choke you as you take him deep in your throat. He gathers your hair, holding it out of your face as your head bobs up and down. Your pace increases; Seungkwan is in heaven — his hips begin to rock, fucking into your mouth as the heat rises in his body. Soon he's whining again, uninhibited pleasure overtaking him.

"Baby, 'm gonna cum," he wails. Moments later his cock begins to pulse, shooting hot white ropes into the back of your mouth as he moans incessantly. As he finishes, his body starts to relax; you swallow, taking every last bit of his cum before slowly dragging your mouth off his length. His tip is still furiously-red, twitching beneath your grasp.

"Oh my god," he mumbles, collapsing into the mattress. You crawl back up beside him; he wraps his arms around you, kissing your face repeatedly and making you giggle.

"You're incredible," he praises you softly. His stomach suddenly rumbles with hunger.

"C'mon, you need to eat," you insist. "It's already lunchtime." You try to get up, but he clings to you. You gasp as he slips his hand down your pants, fingertips brushing over your wet cunt.

"Take these off, baby," he tells you, tugging at your pajamas. "I know exactly what I want to eat."

taglist: @miniseokminnies @kyeomiis @tinycatharsis @hannieween @smiileflower@hanniebub @luvseungcheol @escoupsue @shininghoshstar @coupsv@coupsarchive @seventeenhot

“Think of it as method acting,” she continues. “But with peer-reviewed reflection.”

You do not like method acting. You like clear boundaries. You like variables you can isolate. You like distance.

Your phone buzzes as the pairing list drops in the class group chat.

You don’t open it right away. You already know how this goes. Fate, statistically speaking, has a sense of humor.

When you finally look, your stomach drops anyway.

Partner: Boo Seungkwan

You stare at the name until the letters blur.

Across the lecture hall, Seungkwan is already halfway turned in his seat, eyes scanning faces with bright curiosity. He spots you faster than you’d like, expression lighting up like he’s just been handed a microphone.

He mouths, Oh!

You give him a polite nod. Professional. Neutral. You have done group projects with him before. He’s funny. Loud. Disarmingly attentive in a way that makes people forget what they were saying mid-sentence. You have always categorized him as manageable from a distance.

This assignment removes the distance.

After class, he catches up to you on the stairs, backpack slung too casually over one shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, already smiling. “Guess we’re in a relationship now.”

You stop walking. Slowly turn to face him.

“Simulated,” you correct.

“Right. Obviously.” He grins wider. “Still. I think we’ll be great. I’ve always wanted to host a podcast.”

“That wasn’t—”

“I even have a mic,” he continues. “Well. Two. Long story. I can send you specs.”

You blink. “We don’t need—”

“Commit to the bit,” he says gently, like he’s offering advice, not setting a trap.

You inhale through your nose. Exhale.

“This is an academic assignment,” you say. “We need to maintain analytical distance.”

Seungkwan nods seriously. Too seriously. “Of course. Strictly educational romance.”

You do not like the way he says romance like it’s already a shared joke.

—

You agree to meet in one of the media rooms two days later. Neutral territory. Soundproof. No windows.

You bring a notebook, your laptop, and a printed outline of possible discussion prompts. He brings coffee for both of you without asking how you take it, and somehow gets it right.

“That was a guess,” he says, setting it down. “Statistically.”

You eye him. “You don’t know my coffee order.”

He shrugs. “I observe patterns.”

You pretend that doesn’t make your chest feel warm.

He sets up his equipment with practiced ease, movements confident but unhurried. When he puts the headphones on, something about him shifts—posture straightening, voice settling into a lower register, like he’s stepping into a version of himself meant to be heard.

“Okay,” he says. “Pilot episode. We should keep it clean. Intro, premise, disclaimers.”

“I can do disclaimers,” you say immediately.

He laughs. “I figured.”

You clear your throat and read from your notes. “We should emphasize that this is a simulated exercise. Not reflective of real emotional states. Consent to participate, boundaries established—”

“—no emotional harm intended,” he finishes. “Though statistically unavoidable.”

You glare at him. He grins back, unrepentant.

He reaches over and presses record.

The red light turns on.

You feel it instantly. The awareness. The strange gravity of being observed, even if no one is listening yet.

Seungkwan’s voice shifts again, warm and bright.

“Hello, and welcome to Interpersonal Dynamics: A Case Study,” he says. “I’m Seungkwan.”

There’s a pause. He looks at you expectantly.

You swallow. “And I’m—” You stop yourself. Adjust. “I’m his assigned partner.”

He snorts, laughter caught in his throat, and you kick him under the table.

“Sorry,” he says, still smiling. “Go ahead.”

You try again. “I’m here to co-host this podcast as part of a psychology assignment examining romantic relationship simulations.”

“Very romantic introduction,” he says fondly.

You ignore him.

—

[PODCAST TRANSCRIPT — EPISODE 1: PILOT] SK: So, for context, we are not actually dating. You: Correct. SK: This is a controlled simulation. You: With academic oversight. SK: And ethical guidelines. You: Multiple. SK: But for the sake of the assignment, we’ll be engaging in hypothetical scenarios as if we were in a relationship. You: Emphasis on hypothetical.

—

You move through the questions methodically. Attachment styles. Conflict preferences. Love languages, which you both agree are conceptually flawed but useful as a conversational shorthand.

Seungkwan answers easily, expansively. He talks with his hands even though no one can see him. You find yourself relaxing despite your best efforts, responding more naturally than you’d planned.

At one point, he asks, “What do you think is the most important part of a healthy relationship?”

You open your mouth with a rehearsed answer ready—communication, boundaries, mutual respect—but it stalls halfway out.

“I think,” you say slowly, “it’s being willing to be known. Even when it’s uncomfortable.”

There’s a pause.

Not a dramatic one. Just long enough to register.

Seungkwan doesn’t joke. He doesn’t fill the space.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I agree.”

Your chest tightens. You look down at your notes, suddenly very interested in your own handwriting.

—

Afterward, you listen back to the recording together. It sounds… good. Too good. Polished in a way that makes your skin itch.

“You have a nice voice,” Seungkwan says offhandedly.

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Listeners will care.”

“There are no listeners,” you say.

He hums noncommittally.

You upload the file to the class forum with a clinical description and five disclaimers. You do not listen to it again.

That night, your phone buzzes.

A notification from the forum.

Comment on Episode 1: Pilot

You hesitate. Then open it.

“Why do they sound like that?”

You stare at the screen, pulse quickening.

Across campus, somewhere you don’t let yourself imagine, Seungkwan is probably laughing.

You close the app.

You tell yourself it’s just a simulation.

And you absolutely, definitely do not replay the moment he said yeah in your head as you fall asleep.

—

You find out the podcast is doing numbers in the least dignified way possible: a notification pops up while you’re brushing your teeth, toothpaste foaming in your mouth, phone balanced dangerously close to the sink.

Interpersonal Dynamics: Episode 1 New comments (17)

You choke a little. On toothpaste. On panic.

Seventeen is not a reasonable number. Seventeen implies listening. Voluntary listening. Replaying. Possibly with headphones.

You spit, rinse, wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and immediately open the app like touching the evidence will make it less real.

The comments are… enthusiastic.

“Wait this is for a class??” “Why does he sound like he’s already in love.” “The way they pause for each other omg.” “This is NOT academic.”

You scroll too far. Faster. Your chest tightens with something dangerously close to vertigo.

Someone has timestamped your answer. Someone else has replied with a heart.

You lock your phone and press it face-down on the counter like it’s misbehaving.

This is a breach of scope. A contamination of variables. A classic case of unintended audience interference.

You text Seungkwan.

You: The podcast has comments. SK: I KNOW 😁 You: This is not appropriate. SK: It’s kind of appropriate. You: It is academically compromising. SK: It’s engagement.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

SK: Professor emailed me. You: ??? SK: She says we have “strong organic interest” and wants us to continue the series instead of a one-off. You: That was not part of the assignment. SK: It is now 🎙️

You stare at the emoji. You hate that it makes your stomach flip.

—

The next recording session is scheduled for ninety minutes.

You bring a revised outline. He brings snacks this time, neatly arranged like he expects company.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say.

“I know,” he replies. “But listeners like mouth sounds.”

“There should not be listeners.”

“Too late.”

He presses record before you can object.

—

[PODCAST TRANSCRIPT — EPISODE 2: COMMUNICATION STYLES] SK: Welcome back. You: This episode is a continuation of our simulated relationship study. SK: Please remember that we are not dating. You: Correct. SK: However— You: —however, we will be answering some audience-submitted questions for comparative analysis. SK: Because apparently people had… thoughts.

—

You grit your teeth at audience-submitted but let it go. You agreed to this. You told yourself it was data.

Seungkwan scrolls through his tablet. “Okay, first question. Anonymous listener asks: How do you handle jealousy in a relationship?”

You answer first, because you have prepared.

“Jealousy is typically a response to perceived threat,” you say. “Ideally, it’s addressed through reassurance and transparent communication rather than control.”

Seungkwan nods thoughtfully. “See, that’s very healthy.”

“And you?” you prompt.

He shrugs. “I think jealousy happens when you care. I don’t think it’s bad, necessarily. I think it becomes bad when you pretend you don’t feel it.”

You pause. “That wasn’t very academic.”

He smiles. “We’re simulating.”

The word lands heavier than last time.

Halfway through the episode, something shifts.

It’s subtle. The way he angles his chair closer. The way he starts looking at you when he talks instead of the mic. The way you stop checking your notes as often.

A listener asks: What’s one thing you appreciate about your partner?

You laugh reflexively. “That’s not—”

“It’s fine,” Seungkwan says easily. “Appreciation strengthens relational bonds.”

You sigh. “Fine. Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically,” he agrees.

You think for a moment. Too long.

“They listen,” you say finally. “Without trying to fix things.”

Seungkwan stills. Just a fraction.

“And you?” you ask, needing the focus off yourself.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“They challenge me,” he says. “They don’t let me get away with being shallow.”

Your chest does something inconvenient.

—

After the recording, you pack up faster than necessary. The room feels smaller than before.

Seungkwan watches you, expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you lie. “We should probably limit audience interaction going forward.”

He nods slowly. “If that’s what you want.”

There’s something in his voice—careful, restrained—that makes you regret how cold you sound.

As you leave, your phone buzzes again.

A new comment.

“They’re so soft with each other it’s actually stressful.”

You close the app.

You tell yourself you’re imagining the way Seungkwan said if that’s what you want like it mattered more than the assignment ever could.

—

The professor calls it immersive simulation.

You call it a logistical nightmare.

“You can’t just escalate the assignment because people are enjoying it,” you say, arms crossed, standing outside her office with Seungkwan beside you. “That introduces bias.”

She smiles serenely. “Bias is unavoidable. Awareness is what we’re measuring.”

Seungkwan hums. “That’s kind of hot.”

You elbow him. Hard.

Your professor clears her throat. “For the next phase, I want you to simulate relational stressors. Conflict. Miscommunication. Repair.”

You feel Seungkwan’s shoulder tense beside you.

“And,” she continues, “you must remain in character.”

“In character?” you echo.

“Yes. You cannot break the simulation on-air. The data depends on authenticity.”

Authenticity.

You leave the office with a pit in your stomach.

“This is getting out of hand,” you mutter as you walk down the hall.

Seungkwan is quiet for once. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

You stop. Look at him.

He meets your eyes, expression unreadable. “We can still do it safely,” he adds. “We just… have to agree on boundaries.”

You nod, relieved. “Exactly. Boundaries.”

You do not discuss what happens if those boundaries fail.

—

The third recording is scheduled later than usual. Night. The media building is mostly empty, lights dimmed to a tired yellow.

Seungkwan doesn’t bring snacks this time. You don’t bring your outline.

“Let’s just talk,” he says, fingers hovering over the record button. “Like we’re supposed to.”

You hesitate. Then nod.

The red light turns on.

—

[PODCAST TRANSCRIPT — EPISODE 3: CONFLICT SIMULATION] SK: So. Hypothetically, we’ve been arguing more lately. You: Hypothetically. SK: About time. And priorities. You: And communication expectations. SK: Right. You feel like I’m not taking this seriously enough. You: And you feel like I’m overanalyzing everything.

—

It starts controlled. Civil. Almost boring.

You dissect conflict styles like specimens under glass. Avoidant versus anxious. Demand-withdraw patterns. Repair attempts.

Then Seungkwan leans back in his chair and exhales sharply.

“Okay,” he says. “Can I stop pretending for a second?”

Your stomach drops. “We’re not supposed to—”

“I know. Just—answer me honestly.” He looks at you, not the mic. “Do you actually trust me in this?”

The room goes very still.

You should redirect. Reframe. Use theory as a shield.

Instead, you say, “Yes.”

The word comes out soft. Unprotected.

Seungkwan swallows.

“Then why does it feel like you’re always halfway out the door?” he asks.

You open your mouth. Close it.

“That’s not part of the simulation,” you say finally, too sharply.

He flinches. Just a little.

“See?” he says quietly. “That.”

Silence stretches. The mic picks it all up.

—

[TRANSCRIPT NOTE: 12 seconds of silence]

—

You feel exposed. Cornered. Angry in a way that has nothing to do with an assignment.

“You’re leaning into this,” you say. “You like the attention. The comments. The way people think they know us.”

“Us?” he repeats. Not mocking. Hurt.

“You know what I mean.”

“No,” he says. “I don’t. Because you never say what you actually mean.”

Your heart is pounding now. This is no longer theoretical.

“You want honesty?” you snap. “Fine. I think this is dangerous. I think pretending has consequences, and you’re acting like that doesn’t matter.”

Seungkwan laughs once, breathless. “I think you’re pretending it doesn’t matter because it already does.”

The words hang between you, heavy and undeniable.

The red light is still on.

You reach forward and stop the recording.

The room feels too quiet without the hum of it.

Neither of you speaks.

Finally, you stand. “We should take a break.”

Seungkwan nods. He doesn’t look at you.

“Yeah,” he says. “Probably.”

—

The episode goes up anyway.

You don’t remember uploading it.

The transcript is messy. Incomplete. Someone leaves a note in the margins:

[Audio levels spike at 23:41. Emotional content unclear.]

The comments are worse than before.

“That got REAL.” “Why does it sound like a breakup.” “Someone check on them.”

You close your laptop with shaking hands.

Your phone buzzes.

A message from Seungkwan.

SK: I’m sorry. SK: I shouldn’t have pushed. SK: I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped.

You stare at the screen for a long time.

You type. Delete. Type again.

You: It’s fine. You: We just need to keep this professional.

Three dots appear.

Disappear.

That night, you lie awake replaying his question over and over.

Do you actually trust me in this?

You don’t know when the simulation stopped being hypothetical.

You only know that whatever this is now, it’s already left the lab.

—

You wake up to an edit.

You don’t know who made it. You don’t know when it happened. You only know because it appears on your timeline with a neutral caption and a runtime of forty-six seconds.

“they don’t know they’re in love yet.”

The audio is slowed. Just slightly. Enough to stretch the silences until they feel intentional.

Your voice. Steady, careful. Seungkwan’s. Softer than you remember.

Someone has looped the twelve seconds where neither of you speaks and layered it with faint background music. It has thousands of views.

You feel sick.

You don’t go to class that morning. You email your professor something vague about feeling unwell and don’t mention that your stomach hurts because strangers are dissecting your breathing patterns.

Your phone buzzes again. And again.

You ignore everything except one message.

SK: Have you seen it?

You don’t answer.

You show up to the next recording because not showing up would make things worse. Because avoidance has consequences. Because if you pretend this is still academic, maybe it can be contained again.

The media room is brighter than you remember. Or maybe you’re just more aware of it.

Seungkwan is already there, sitting on the edge of the table instead of his chair. He looks tired. Quieter.

“I reported the edit,” he says immediately. “For what it’s worth.”

You nod. “Thank you.”

Silence settles. Not the charged kind. The careful kind.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks finally. “We can talk to the professor. Say it’s compromising the integrity of the study.”

You hesitate.

Part of you wants to say yes. Wants to shut this down, retreat, reclaim your voice from people who think they know what it means.

Another part of you—treacherous, honest—knows that stopping wouldn’t erase what’s already there.

“No,” you say. “We should finish.”

Seungkwan watches you closely. “Okay.”

He doesn’t smile.

—

[PODCAST TRANSCRIPT — EPISODE 4: EXTERNAL PRESSURES] SK: Today we’re discussing parasocial dynamics and their impact on relationships. You: Specifically, how external audiences can project narratives onto private interactions. SK: Hypothetically. You: Hypothetically.

—

You choose the questions this time. You avoid anything that feels too sharp, too personal.

Then one slips through anyway.

What scares you most about commitment?

You feel Seungkwan’s gaze flick to you, quick and uncertain.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you say quickly. “We can reframe.”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s relevant.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.

“I think,” he says slowly, “I’m scared of being the only one invested. Of caring louder than the other person.”

Your throat tightens.

“That fear often stems from anxious attachment,” you say automatically. “It can be mitigated through—”

“I know,” he interrupts gently. “I’ve read the papers.”

You stop talking.

For a moment, you forget the mic is there.

—

Later, a listener asks: Do you think your partner avoids emotional vulnerability?

Your answer is measured. Polite. Safe.

“I think some people use intellectualization as a defense mechanism,” you say. “It doesn’t mean they don’t feel deeply.”

Seungkwan’s mouth curves, just barely.

“Do you think that’s bad?” he asks.

You meet his eyes.

“No,” you say. “I think it means they’re protecting something important.”

The silence that follows is different from the last one. Not sharp. Not painful.

Just heavy.

—

After the recording, you pack up slowly. Deliberately.

Seungkwan hovers near the door. “Hey.”

You pause.

“I’m not trying to push you into anything,” he says. “On or off the podcast.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t want to pretend this is nothing if it isn’t.”

You swallow. “And I don’t want to pretend it’s everything when it might not be.”

He nods. “Fair.”

For a moment, you think he might reach for you. He doesn’t.

Outside, your phone buzzes again.

A new comment, already climbing.

“The way he waits for them to speak first every time.”

You lock your screen.

You don’t tell Seungkwan that you noticed it too.

You don’t tell him that the scariest part isn’t being watched.

It’s being understood.

—

The problem with live audiences is that they breathe.

You notice it the moment you step onto the small stage set up in the lecture theatre—rows of seats filled, lights dimmed just enough to make faces indistinct but present. A low murmur ripples through the room, the sound of anticipation made physical.

No pause button. No cutting room floor.

Seungkwan is beside you, close enough that your arm brushes his when you sit. He smells like laundry detergent and nerves.

“You okay?” he murmurs, not looking at you.

“Yes,” you lie automatically.

He nods, like he expected that answer.

The professor gives a brief introduction about methodology and observational value. No one is really listening to her. They’re watching the two of you.

Seungkwan adjusts his mic. The familiar red light turns on, brighter than ever.

“Hi,” he says, voice steady. “Welcome to our final episode.”

You swallow. “This recording is live. There will be no edits.”

A ripple of excitement moves through the audience. Someone laughs softly.

—

[PODCAST TRANSCRIPT — EPISODE 5: LIVE SIMULATION] SK: We’re here to talk about repair. You: Specifically, how relationships navigate uncertainty. SK: And what happens when there’s an audience. You: Which there is. SK: A large one.

—

The questions come in through a moderated screen, projected faintly behind the audience. You answer the first few smoothly. You’re good at this part. Framing. Deflection. Precision.

Seungkwan keeps glancing at you like he’s checking in, like he’s making sure you’re still there.

Then a question appears that makes your stomach drop.

Is this still a simulation?

There’s a hush. Even the room seems to lean forward.

You laugh, light and practiced. “That’s a complicated question.”

Seungkwan doesn’t laugh.

He inhales slowly. You feel it, somehow.

“I don’t think it is,” he says.

Your head snaps toward him.

The audience gasps—not loudly, but enough. A collective intake of breath.

“Seungkwan,” you say under your breath.

He keeps his eyes on the mic. On the truth.

“I mean,” he continues, voice warm but unsteady now, “it started that way. But at some point, I stopped pretending my reactions were hypothetical.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure it’s audible.

“This isn’t—” you start.

He turns to look at you fully. Not the audience. Not the mic.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says gently. “I just don’t want to lie anymore.”

Silence crashes down.

—

[TRANSCRIPT NOTE: audience noise detected. Applause begins at 31:12, then fades.]

—

You stand abruptly.

“I think we should take a break,” you say, voice tight.

The professor looks startled. The audience murmurs.

Seungkwan nods immediately. “Okay.”

You walk offstage without looking back.

Behind the curtain, the world feels smaller. Too quiet after the roar of being seen.

Your hands are shaking.

A moment later, Seungkwan joins you.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I didn’t plan that. I just—”

“I know,” you interrupt. “That’s the problem.”

He winces. “Yeah.”

You press your back against the wall, breathing hard. “You can’t just… confess in front of people.”

“I wasn’t asking for anything,” he says softly. “I swear. I just needed to be honest.”

You close your eyes.

“That honesty costs me,” you say. “It costs me control.”

He goes very still.

“I didn’t realize,” he says.

“I know,” you reply. And you mean it.

There’s a long pause. The muffled sound of the audience waiting.

“We have to finish,” you say finally.

Seungkwan nods. “On your terms.”

You look at him. Really look.

For once, there’s no performance in his face.

“Okay,” you say.

—

Back onstage, the energy has changed. The audience is quieter now. More reverent.

You answer the remaining questions with care. With honesty that doesn’t bleed. Seungkwan follows your lead, never interrupting, never pushing.

When it ends, there’s applause. Loud. Earned.

You don’t bow. You don’t smile.

You leave as soon as it’s over.

That night, the episode uploads automatically.

You don’t listen.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment he said I don’t think it is.

Not because he said it.

But because some part of you believes him.

And you don’t know what to do with that yet.

—

The final transcript is released three days later.

Not the audio—the transcript.

You notice immediately because it’s longer than the others. Annotated. Clinical in a way that makes your chest ache.

PSYC312 — FINAL SUBMISSION Relationship Simulation Podcast Episodes 1–5: Compiled Transcript with Observational Notes

You don’t open it at first.

You make tea. You reorganize your desk. You reread an article you’ve already highlighted to death. You do everything except the thing that feels like it might undo you.

When you finally click the file, it opens to a table of contents.

There are timestamps. Footnotes. Emotional markers.

You scroll.

—

[OBSERVATIONAL NOTE — Episode 1] Early conversational synchrony established. Speakers mirror cadence and pause lengths within first 7 minutes.

You swallow.

—

[OBSERVATIONAL NOTE — Episode 3] Extended silence (12 seconds). Elevated heart rate detected in Speaker B. No verbal repair attempt made.

Speaker B is you.

You keep reading.

—

[OBSERVATIONAL NOTE — Episode 5 | LIVE] Confession occurs without prompting. Speaker A demonstrates risk-taking behavior consistent with secure attachment tendencies.

Speaker A is Seungkwan.

Your throat tightens.

At the end of the document, after the analysis and grading rubric, there’s an addendum.

Post-Production Reflection (Optional):

At what point does a simulation become a lived experience?When does observation fail to remain neutral?Is authenticity possible without consent from all participants?

You close the file.

Your phone buzzes.

SK: Have you read it?

You stare at the message. Then type.

You: Yes.

Three dots appear almost immediately.

SK: I’m outside the library. SK: Not to ambush you. SK: Just… if you want to talk.

You hesitate.

Then you grab your jacket.

—

He’s sitting on the steps, elbows on his knees, phone in his hands. He looks up when you approach, eyes soft with something like hope he’s trying very hard not to lean on.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

Neither of you sits right away. The air between you feels delicate, like any wrong movement might snap it.

“I want to apologize,” he says quietly. “Properly. Without a mic.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said live,” he continues. “Even if it was true. I didn’t think about what it would cost you.”

You exhale. Slowly.

“Thank you,” you say. “For saying that.”

He nods, relieved but still careful. “I also don’t regret feeling it. Just… the timing.”

That makes you smile despite yourself. A small one. Brief.

“I read the notes,” you say. “The annotations.”

He grimaces. “Yeah. Me too.”

“They made it sound inevitable,” you admit. “Like this was always going to happen.”

Seungkwan looks at you then—not searching, not performing.

“I don’t think it was inevitable,” he says. “I think it was a choice we kept making. To listen. To stay.”

You consider that.

“I’m not good at being watched,” you say finally. “I don’t like when people decide who I am before I get to.”

“I know,” he says softly. “I think that’s why I wanted something that wasn’t for them.”

The words settle between you, gentle and terrifying.

You sit beside him on the steps.

“I don’t want to do this,” you say carefully, “if it feels like a continuation of the podcast. Or like something people get to analyze.”

He turns fully toward you. “Me neither.”

“No audience,” you continue. “No simulation.”

“Just us,” he says.

You look at him. Really look at him. No mic. No transcript. No comments section waiting to interpret your breathing.

“Just us,” you agree.

He hesitates, then asks, “May I?”

You nod.

He leans in slowly, giving you time to change your mind.

You don’t.

The kiss is soft. Brief. Real in a way nothing else has been.

When you pull back, he laughs under his breath. “Wow.”

You smile. “Yeah.”

A week later, a final upload appears on the podcast feed.

No intro music. No episode number. No description.

Just a title:

Episode 7: Off the Record

It’s two minutes long.

There’s no talking. Just muffled laughter. The sound of someone saying wait— and someone else shushing them, fond and close.

Then silence.

The comments are locked.

For the first time since this all began, the story belongs to you.

—

The strangest thing about it all is how quiet your life becomes once the podcast ends.

No notifications. No clips. No strangers parsing your pauses like scripture. The absence feels loud at first, like walking out of a concert and realizing your ears are ringing because they don’t know what silence is yet.

You keep reaching for your phone out of habit. You keep expecting commentary.

There is none.

Seungkwan texts you mundane things now.

SK: did you know the campus café changed their muffin recipe SK: tragedy honestly SK: are you free later?

You stare at the last message longer than necessary.

You: Yes.

No qualifiers. No disclaimers. Just yes.

—

You don’t talk about the podcast at first.

You sit on the grass behind the psych building, legs stretched out, sharing earbuds because Seungkwan insists on showing you a song that “makes sense emotionally but not academically.”

You lean into his shoulder without thinking.

He stills for half a second. Then relaxes.

“That okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say. Again, just yes.

It feels like learning a new language. One without footnotes.

—

People still look at you sometimes. Whisper. You hear your name paired with his in passing, curiosity trailing behind you like static.

But without content to feed on, the noise starves.

The story moves on.

And so do you.

—

The grade comes back two weeks later.

A+.

There’s a handwritten note at the bottom.

“An exceptional exploration of boundaries, consent, and authenticity. Thank you for trusting the process.”

You snort when you read it.

“Trusting the process,” you mutter.

Seungkwan laughs. “We survived the process.”

“That implies it’s over.”

He glances at you sideways. “Is it?”

You think about it.

About the way he waits for you to speak. About how you don’t feel like you’re performing when you’re with him. About how the word simulation feels distant now, almost funny.

“No,” you say. “I don’t think it is.”

He smiles. Soft. Unbroadcasted.

—

You do one last thing together for closure.

Not for class. Not for listeners.

You sit in the empty media room after hours, lights off except for the soft glow of the control panel. The equipment is powered down, cords neatly coiled like it’s all gone dormant.

Seungkwan presses record out of habit, then stops himself.

“No,” he says. “Not even that.”

You nod. Relief spreads through you.

You sit there anyway. Talking. Laughing. Letting moments trail off unfinished because no one is there to demand resolution.

When you leave, the room stays silent.

—

Later, much later, you’ll hear people refer to the podcast like it’s a legend.

“You know that one where they accidentally fell in love?”

You’ll correct them sometimes.

“We didn’t fall,” you’ll say. “We chose.”

Seungkwan always squeezes your hand when you do.

Not for science. Not for fun. Not for content.

Just because he wants to.

And this time, finally, that’s enough.

But again, for a girl like you who prioritizes eating and sleeping, your choice of major is… questionable.

At least for now.

Though, you don’t really care. Your situationship only lasted a while, and you decided never to do that again, especially not in the middle of finals week.

Which is hell.

Never again. You almost failed. Not literally, but enough to make you lose track of everything. It’s practically a universal rule at this point: number one, never get into a relationship during exam week.

Thank God you passed this semester. If not, you would’ve gone insane seeing those red marks on your transcript.

You underestimate yourself. You should’ve crashed out. And it’s all Mingyu’s fault for introducing his friend to you in the first place. You thought you could handle it since Mingyu always had time to party around despite his deadass architecture projects but hell, you never expected to end up on the verge of failing.

Studying may be the only thing you’re good at.

But you know what else you’re good at?

Sleeping.

Either way, reminder: always listen to your friends when you’re on the wrong path. Chan already warned you.

Did you listen?

Obviously not.

And the moment you went into full disaster mode and ran back to him, you swear you almost punched him when he hit you with that smug “I told you so.”

You were hunched over one of the campus cafeteria tables, impatiently waiting for your friend to finish his class. The new semester had just started, but honestly, you felt so, so, so far from immaculate right now. You even considered skipping a few lectures but given your CGPA last semester, which was shit as hell, that wasn’t an option.

If you wanted to graduate this year, you seriously needed to lock in.

No relationships. No sleeping all over campus. No exchanging memes at 3 a.m.

Okay, maybe not the last part. You can’t stop being funny. It’s part of your personality. At this point, if you were going to be with someone, they’d have to be at least funnier than you to catch your heart completely.

Maybe Seungcheol wasn’t the case. He was charming, okay? No one could blame you for wanting something everyone wanted.

And you turned out just like the rest of them.

Disappointment.

The entire semester break, you ended up bedrotting all day. Eat. Sleep. Maybe grieve your failed relationship.

Whatever.

You’d like to think it wasn’t that deep. Love does distract you from important things, something you swore you were never going to let happen again.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Mr. Pi said attendance is compulsory,” a voice piped up behind you. “Seriously, since when did the campus care about their students’ attendance?”

You were sitting at the opposite end of the table, hood up, back facing them.

“What a drag,” her friend added with a chuckle. “That just means you get to see your former darling on campus now.”

“Cheol,” she scoffed. “Speaking of him, maybe I should get him back. Heard his little situationship failed. Why did he choose such a boring girl?”

Ouch.

The mention of his name almost made you slide to the floor right then and there. It was depressing. Yes. What a way to start your day.

Great.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they clearly failed to notice your existence.

Not that it mattered. You preferred it that way.

“Why not try to get him back?” her friend suggested.

She scoffed again, snapping her compact mirror shut. “He wouldn’t even want to talk to me.”

You knew that voice. Jia. Seungcheol’s ex. She never liked you when you and him started getting close.

Or maybe she just didn’t like anyone in general. You guessed she hated herself too. You didn’t really know what her deal was, except that she had a problem with you simply because you were close to her man.

You couldn’t care less.

Or at least, you tried not to.

“I have an idea,” her friend continued. “Why not make him jealous? Like that guy over there.” She jerked her chin toward someone at the vending machine.

Your eyes darted in the direction she pointed.

Leather jacket. Jeans. Black-framed glasses.

“Him?” Jia bristled. “Isn’t that guy sometimes hanging out with Mingyu? Looks kind of like a nerd. Never really saw him at parties.”

“He’s not a party type,” her friend said. “Why not make a move on him? Catch Seungcheol’s attention. You can’t hook up with his friends—they’re too loyal.”

“Not really my type, but his face does give,” Jia mused. “I’ll give it a shot. Maybe in less than three days, I’ll have him.”

Wow.

You almost couldn’t believe it. People really lived in this level of shallowness.

Their chatter slowly faded.

You pulled your hood down and turned around.

That rhymed.

You never expected people to bet over feelings like they were throwing darts. It’s almost similar to how you chose your major, impulsively yet somehow took longer deciding what to eat after a morning lecture.

You think people are low, and yet here you are apologizing to your door after accidentally bumping into it.

Wait.

Now that you think about it…

You glanced at the same guy from the vending machine. He was in your calculus class last semester.

What was his name again? Oh, yeah.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You didn’t talk much, but you might’ve left a bad impression on him.

You were flunking that semester, so you always ended up sitting beside him, whispering “how?” and “what?” to almost every question. Probably annoying. You were aware of that. But he never seemed bothered. Always stoic. Quiet. Patient.

And you kept doing it because you were shameless and convinced you’d never see him again.

Oh my God.

That’s the guy they’re choosing?

Honestly, if it weren’t for him, you would’ve already failed that class.

Now you felt… obligated to save him.

Well. Not obligated. But—

Okay, fine. Obligated.

He didn’t deserve to get played.

Then you wondered: if it were someone else, someone you didn’t know, would you do the same?

“….”

Yeah.

It doesn’t matter. You could just think of it as returning a favor to your calculus savior.

(Even if it was completely one-sided.)

Your legs bounced under the table, almost violently. You were obviously deep in thought about the possibility of an unwanted conversation from yesterday. The rush of anxiety felt way too similar to when you fumbled with your answer sheet outside the exam hall.

Jia must’ve made her move by now.

You shouldn’t care. Who even are you to care?

And yet, you found yourself thinking about it.

Chan noticed your shaking leg, glanced at you, then exchanged a look with Seungkwan beside him.

“What’s on your mind?” Chan spoke first.

You answered almost immediately. “Nothing.”

He and Seungkwan exchanged another look.

“You’re biting your nails,” Seungkwan pointed out, “and you’ve been scribbling circles on your book for the past five minutes.”

You stopped. Then glanced at them. “Sugar rush.”

“You didn’t eat any candy today,” he replied.

“Well, maybe I did. What would you know?” The answer came out more defensive than you intended.

A brief silence settled over the table.

Chan tried again. “Did you perhaps, perchance not get over your failed situationship?”

“You can’t say perchance,” you frowned. “We’ve talked about this. No mention of that guy.”

“So it is about him,” Seungkwan confirmed.

You scoffed lightly. “It’s not about him.”

“It is about him,” he shot back. “Judging by your reaction, he’s definitely living rent-free in your head. Come on. He wasn’t good for you and you know that.”

“It’s not about him,” you insisted, aggressively scribbling over nothing in your notebook.

Another silence.

You glanced up at them and sighed when they were still staring.

“Do my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot?”

Chan frowned. “What? No. What kind of question is that?”

“I think my under-eye circles are adding to the aesthetic,” you said seriously.

“Look, there’s nothing aesthetically pleasing about your failed love story.”

“It’s not about him!” you snapped.

The librarian let out a sharp “Shh!” in your direction.

After that, the three of you toned it down.

“What is it exactly about?” Seungkwan leaned closer. “You could’ve just told us. You look so troubled it’s making me nosy.”

You hesitated, debating whether you should say anything. But if you kept it in your head any longer, it might actually explode.

So you told them anyway. After a moment, Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look.

“You know what,” Seungkwan started, leaning back in his chair, “this is your time to shine. Payback at Jia.”

Chan chimed in, “Yeah. What she did to you was not cool. She’s the reason you were spiraling over that guy.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No. That is definitely not what you two are thinking.”

“Oh, come on,” Seungkwan whined. “She literally harassed you when you were with Seungcheol, and it wasn’t even your fault!”

Another loud “Shh!” was directed at your table.

“I mean…” Chan trailed off, lowering his voice. “It’s not that bad. You already know him. Who knows? He might actually… you know… feel the same—”

“No.” You stabbed your pen into your notebook. “I doubt it. He looks nonchalant. He sounds nonchalant. I am not risking my time like last semester. Have you not seen how fucked up I was?”

Sometimes you feel like the universe deliberately puts you in alarming situations. You didn’t need more character development. You were smart enough at this point.

“I thought you guys were, like, friends. Buddy-buddy level,” Seungkwan said with a shrug.

Sighing, you dragged a hand down your face. “That’s the thing, Boo. I am not buddy-buddy with him. We shared one class. That’s it.” You slumped in your seat. “He’d be weirded out if I suddenly went up to him like, ‘Hey, someone’s betting on fucking you within three days. Be careful.’”

Chan and Seungkwan exchanged another look.

This time, it came with a mischievous grin.

“Ask him out,” Chan said simply.

You almost choked. “Excuse me? Are you crazy? I’m not—”

“Shh!” the librarian snapped again.

You lowered your voice, glaring at them. “I’m not doing that. Why the hell should I date him just to bruise Jia’s ego?”

Seungkwan scoffed, crossing his arms. “Girl, be serious. She harassed you the entire time you were with that guy. You nearly fucked up your semester—be grateful you even passed, barely. And was it worth it? For a man who didn’t deserve you and only gave you a shitty situationship?” He leaned forward. “Now she’s about to mess with your calculus bestie—who literally contributed to you passing and you’re just going to let that happen?”

You opened your mouth to argue. Nothing came out. Because, unfortunately, Seungkwan had a point.

You were stupid for letting yourself get distracted by something that was never worth it to begin with.

“…I’m not close with him,” you muttered weakly.

Chan hummed. “So? Get closer.”

“That would be awkward.”

“You’re always awkward,” he shot back.

“Shut up, loser. You can’t even hold a proper conversation with a girl.”

“Okay, that was a personal attack,” he huffed.

“I’m not as unhinged as I could be, and I need everyone to be grateful for that.”

“Wow,” Seungkwan muttered. “The weather’s really nice today.”

You shot him a glare.

As much as you hated the idea, your friends might be amazed at how much you’d already fucked around without actually finding anything out.

Yeah, so unfortunately, the more you fuck around, the more you find out.

So why the hell were you standing there, watching him get flirted with by Jia on a random Tuesday afternoon? It felt as random as Soonyoung showing up with a tub of kimchi in flip-flops.

Judging by his reaction, he was stoic as always. Meanwhile, Jia was trying way too hard, battling her lashes at him like it was a competitive sport.

You weren’t gullible, but you were nosy.

As much as you wanted to yell, “Girllll, he does not give a fuckkkk,” across the hall, yet you didn’t.

Instead, you walked toward your car. Halfway there, you stopped in your tracks, conflicted. Should you intervene or just walk away? He wasn’t an idiot. Surely he was smart enough to know he was getting played.

You muttered a curse under your breath. Even a smart student like you got distracted by someone like Seungcheol. So what made you think Wonwoo wouldn’t?

Human minds and hearts are complicated.

Seungkwan did a damn good job guilt-tripping you.

You fumbled in your pocket for your phone, scrolling through your contacts to see if you still had his number. You’d only exchanged it for academic purposes. Strictly.

When your finger landed on his name, you didn’t hesitate.

You called.

The thought of him ending up in the same position you were in made something bitter curl in your chest. You didn’t want anyone to go through that. It was hell. Dramatic, maybe but still hell.

Maybe you just appreciated Wonwoo more than you admitted. He did help you a lot with your studies.

You felt… indebted.

“Hello? ____? Is that you?”

His voice came through, and your heart immediately started pounding. A voice you’d tried to forget now sounded painfully familiar. When he said your name, you fumbled.

Great start.

“Oh, um… hey,” you began, suddenly shy. “My car… the tire kind of blew out, and I don’t really know how to, you know…”

You let the sentence hang, hoping he’d understand.

There was a pause.

“Ah, I see,” he replied. “I’ll come to you. Stay there. You’re at the campus parking lot?”

“Yes.”

The call ended.

Wow.

You couldn’t believe he agreed that easily, even though it had been months since you last spoke about anything other than calculus equations.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was grateful for the interruption.

The girl, whose name he still hadn’t bothered to learn had been clinging to him since yesterday. He wasn’t oblivious to her intentions.

He just wasn’t interested.

So when his phone rang, he welcomed the excuse.

What he didn’t expect… was you.

Like, you you.

Hearing your voice again after a while did something to him. Yesterday’s persistent flirting had been mildly irritating. Your voice, on the other hand, felt oddly calming.

And now he was here, crouched beside your car, fixing a tire that you claimed was blown.

“Hey,” he called when you turned around. “Are you okay? Did you wait long?”

You almost stammered again. You weren’t sure if the air suddenly turned cold or if you were just getting cold feet.

“Ah, no… not long.” You gestured awkwardly toward the car. “I just needed help. If you know how to change a tire.”

His gaze flickered to the car, then back to you. “Yeah. Give me your keys.”

You handed them over obediently.

“I’m not really good with this stuff,” you added. “My friends had class, so I didn’t want to bother them.”

Flaming lies.

Your dad raised you to be an independent woman. You absolutely knew how to change a tire.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” you murmured, watching him work. “You must’ve had class, right?”

“It’s fine,” he said, crouched down, focused on the wheel. “I just finished. Good timing, actually.”

You nodded. “Oh.”

You were definitely trying not to make it obvious that you’d just saved him from Jia’s relentless seduction.

Less than forty-five minutes later, he was done.

“Thanks,” you smiled. “Sorry you had to come all the way here.”

He wiped his hands with a napkin and gave you a small smile. “It’s alright. It’s funny how, out of everyone you could’ve called, you called me.”

“But you came anyway,” you replied.

He looked at you, and you looked back.

Your throat suddenly went dry.

He didn’t break eye contact. It felt like he was staring straight into your soul.

This was only the second day Jia tried to flirt with him.

Tomorrow might be her last attempt.

Unacceptable.

“Um,” you broke eye contact first. “For some reason, I’m feeling a little off today.”

“Oh? Are you unwell?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Not exactly. But when you came along, you definitely turned me on.”

Silence.

He blinked.

You blinked.

You had never wanted to crawl into a grave more in your life.

“I—I’m sorry. That was too forward,” you rushed. “I just mean you look… familiar. Like my next boyfriend.”

He blinked again.

Still processing.

You scrambled for your keys. “Okay! Thanks again for today. I really like your jacket. I hope it’s made of boyfriend material.”

You mentally cursed yourself as you rushed into your car, started the engine, and sped off.

In every possible way, this was ridiculous. More ridiculous than Jeonghan using a frozen baguette from Paris as a hammer.

You seriously needed to have a dick in your personality to keep things in your pants.

To put it differently,

you don’t have a dick. You don’t own any balls, unfortunately.

Maybe you aren’t resilient enough. Or maybe you’re just not audacious enough to be like Jia with her relentless flirting.

One talent you were proud of was flirting without actually catching feelings.

Not something to brag about. Really.

The last time you fumbled your words this badly was when you were with Seungcheol.

This isn’t about him.

But this is Wonwoo you’re talking about. You feel like you’re taking advantage of him. Well… technically not. According to Chan, you’re just helping out. Out of care.

You don’t want to be a snollygoster.

You definitely don’t want him to think of you that way, toying with people’s feelings like they’re dodgeballs.

And why do you care so much about what he thinks of you anyway? You were already shameless before you even knew his name.

You bumped your head lightly against the bathroom door and let out a loooong sigh.

You didn’t know if you could face him after yesterday. He probably thinks you’re weird for suddenly hitting him with the lamest pickup lines in history.

You were panicking, okay?

Then you heard voices entering the bathroom.

“Seriously, what’s with this guy?” a familiar voice complained. “I tried small talk and he wouldn’t even look at me.”

Jia.

Here you were, eavesdropping. Again. You leaned closer to the stall door.

“I even wore low-rise jeans and everything. He doesn’t seem interested at all,” she scoffed. “Is he into men or something?”

You rolled your eyes. What did it matter to her anyway?

Their voices blurred until you caught the next line clearly.

“Fine,” she said, probably applying gloss. “I’ll just lock us in the janitor’s closet. Maybe that’ll bring out his real self. You know what they say—it’s always the quiet ones.”

Their laughter faded.

You stared at the door.

She was willing to go that far? Just to get back at her ex?

You used to like Seungcheol too, but you weren’t that crazy.

That wasn’t love for sure, definitely close to possession.

“….”

Wait.

This might be her last day to try.

Something gnawed at you.

Technically, Wonwoo didn’t need rescuing. But hell, you’d rather eat dirt than let Jia ruin your calculus buddy.

...

In the library, you hoped Jia hadn’t gotten to him yet.

You knew where to find Wonwoo. He always studied there after class. At least last semester.

Nothing wrong with trying.

You texted Chan to update you on Jia’s whereabouts, and surprisingly, he was very committed to the mission.

You just needed time.

Wow.

You felt like a possessive girlfriend already.

Anyway.

When Chan sent you a video attachment, you did not expect it to be Seungkwan “accidentally” spilling banana milk on Jia’s top.

You never told them to do that.

But apparently, you were enabling chaos.

Sometimes you feel like a bad person. At least that’s what seven-year-old Chan would’ve said.

Your eyes finally landed on a familiar pair of glasses.

He looked good.

What.

You absentmindedly fixed your hair and smoothed your clothes before walking over, placing your bag and books beside him.

He looked up.

You gave him a sheepish smile.

You used to study together. Strictly academic of course.

Now it felt like you had ulterior motives.

“Hi,” you said, as if you hadn’t practically confessed yesterday.

He blinked. “Hey. Studying?”

You nodded and sat down.

God, you used to send him random updates about how Chan’s disgusting farts and now this felt weirdly intimate.

You studied quietly beside him. One of his earphones was in, the other dangling.

He was completely focused.

“You know,” you said suddenly, “photosynthesis is basically how plants fart if you think about it.”

He looked up slowly.

“Pardon?”

No shit, your personality truly is just like that one drawer in the kitchen that’s just full of random stuff.

You tried again. “Chan did a backflip yesterday.”

“He did?” He actually sounded impressed.

“No,” you said flatly. “He’s too chicken. But it would’ve been cool.”

Silence.

Then he went back to studying.

Same old you, random TMI if it wasn't you.

“So…” you started. “Are you busy after this?”

“I have quizzes to submit,” he replied.

“Anything after that?”

“I need to pick up my family’s dog from daycare. Then send my bike to the workshop.”

“How about 6 p.m.?”

“I’ll probably be home by then. Why?”

You looked at him.

“So I can ask you out to dinner.”

Smooth.

He turned fully toward you now.

“…I don’t mind,” he said slowly, “but can we do it another day?”

Internally, you screamed.

“Okay,” you nodded quickly. “But I’m bad with directions. Even though I’ve had my license for a year.”

“I’ll send you the location.”

“How about your apartment?”

He stopped.

“Oh—I think I dropped something,” you said abruptly, leaning down.

He instinctively leaned down too. “What is it?”

You looked straight into his eyes.

“My jaw.”

He froze.

You sat back down like nothing happened.

Never mind.

Your phone buzzed violently. You received bombarded messages from Chan with his constant “abort mission” spamming in your phone.

Jia was on her way.

You needed to move.

“Do you do weddings?” you asked suddenly.

He blinked. “What?”

“Because someone I know needs someone important.”

“Depends. What kind of role?”

“The groom.”

Another silence.

“…What are you trying to say?” he sighed.

You couldn’t say, Someone’s trying to trap you in a janitor’s closet and going to fucked you up.

You don’t confront problems. You parkour over them.

And this wasn’t technically your problem.

“I like you,” you blurted.

He blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“I like you, Wonwoo. So… wanna be my boyfriend? I can do a backflip.”

“I—”

“Go out with me. I’m good at girlfriend stuff. I’m not a great kisser, but I can do origami.”

Your phone buzzed again.

Jia incoming.

“Look, I’m not sure—”

Before he could finish, you crashed your lips against his.

Your brain has officially clocked out.

He went still from shock.

You kissed him again, deeper this time, heart pounding.

When you pulled back, his eyes were wide.

You leaned close, barely brushing his lips. “Be mine,” you whispered. “Please.”

He didn’t move away.

So you kissed him again.

This time, slower.

You felt him stiffen. Then, gradually, melt into it. For once, you didn’t use your brain. The only other time you shut it off like this was during an exam.

Your head tilted slightly as you leaned closer to him, practically crushing him beneath your weight. You heard a small groan escape his lips.

Then he slowly grabbed your arms and pulled you back. You stared at him.

You couldn’t blame him, though.

“Listen…” he breathed, your faces only inches apart. When you tried to lean in again, he grunted and covered your mouth with his large palm. “Damn it, I’m trying to talk here. Be good.”

That made you freeze obediently.

Apparently.

He started again. “This is too sudden. I need you to be clear with me.”

You nodded.

“Good,” he said. “I’m sorry, but this is moving too fast—”

“Are you rejecting me?” you asked softly, your voice barely there. Your eyes looked like a kicked puppy.

He immediately stammered. The dejected look on your face made him feel like an asshole. “What? No! I wasn’t— I was just…” He paused, thinking. “I meant we should at least actually get to know each other.”

Oh.

Maybe you did a good job weaponizing your eyes. You never thought that trick would actually work. Or maybe you weren’t acting at all. Maybe you just hated the idea of being rejected. That old, familiar feeling of being unlovable creeping up on you again.

From a distance, you heard someone huff and stomp their feet.

That was probably Jia.

Mission accomplished.

Then... what?

Dear Chan,

whose presence I barely tolerate,

I must say, I’m beginning to think we made a mistake yesterday. Because there’s no way in hell I can look at Wonwoo the same anymore. You did a great job cockblocking Jia, and she looked pissed, alright.

Then again… at what cost?

Oh, where do I begin? I kissed him. And I asked him to be my boyfriend. I’m starting to think I’m about to die today—

“You know,” Chan started from beside you, “you can just say it to my face. You don’t need to write a whole email on your phone.”

You stopped typing and looked at him.

“It’s my inner monologue,” you replied. “My personal digital diary.”

“You do know I’m under no obligation to make it make sense to you, right?”

“Know thy lane and stayeth the fuck in it.”

“What the hell is that?”

“The prophecy,” you shot back.

“The prophecy can kiss my ass. That’s not a prophecy if you just made it clear it was a misunderstanding,” he retorted.

“Well—not my fault that you and Boo kept egging me on to hit him up,” you said dramatically, flailing your arms.

His face suddenly brightened.

He had spotted Wonwoo.

Wonwoo had just parked his bike, removing his helmet. Looking effortlessly handsome.

“Oh look, it’s your boyfriend,” Chan nudged you, nearly knocking you over.

You rubbed your arms and glared at him. “He’s not.”

“Might as well be soon,” he grinned.

Then he added, “By the way, that guy was looking for you.”

“Oh.” That’s all you managed.

Chan studied your face. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on him.”

“I’m not,” you huffed immediately.

But his eyes drifted past you toward Wonwoo again, and he let out a low, impressed whistle.

Black bike. Probably some BMW S1000RR–style superbike. His hair was slightly tousled after pulling off the helmet, and his jacket clung to him in a way that felt illegal.

You found yourself staring a little too long.

“Forget Seungcheol because goddaaaamn, papi,” Chan exaggerated, completely awestruck. “You know what? Get that bag, girl. I’d kiss him too.”

You blinked and turned to him with a frown.

“What?” he stared back.

“It’s not the time for eyefucking. I’m in a crisis.”

“So? Just try being in love with him. Who knows, maybe you’ll actually fall for him eventually.”

Before you could slap him across the face, he suddenly grabbed you.

“Chan—what the fu—”

He shoved you forward.

You stumbled straight into Wonwoo’s arms.

Your eyes widened. You looked up at him, then at Chan, who was already giggling and running away.

Slowly, you stepped back from Wonwoo. “Sorry about that. Chan’s being annoying.”

You cleared your throat and fixed your hair.

“It’s alright,” he replied, setting his helmet aside. “Are you okay now?”

You blinked, trying not to fumble your words at how gentle his voice sounded. Your face was heating up.

“Oh—um. I’m alright. Really.”

Then yesterday hit you.

Sure, Jia might’ve backed off… but was she really gone? Her ego was as big as the Pacific Ocean.

“So… how’s my boyfriend doing?” you suddenly said.

He froze mid-motion while adjusting his bike key and slowly turned to stare at you.

“…Boyfriend?”

God, you wanted to eat dirt.

But you know what they say, the more shameless you are, the greater you become.

“Yeah. Boyfriend,” you said. “Am I not your girlfriend?”

He paused, about to say something, then closed his mouth.

“Who decided that?” he asked. “I don’t remember being your boyfriend.”

Since he didn’t deny it… technically, that’s a win.

“Well, you did,” you replied casually. “The moment I kissed you, I already declared us boyfriend and girlfriend.”

He stared at you, incredulous.

“Why?” you asked softly. “You don’t want me to be your girlfriend?”

There it was again, that look. That voice. Like you were one breath away from crying.

He carefully considered his words. Instead of answering, he grabbed his bag and took your hand.

“Let’s go. I’ll walk you to class.”

And just like that, he led you forward.

Oh my God.

You pressed your lips together, trying so hard not to break into a stupid grin as he guided you.

He didn’t say yes. But he didn’t say no either.

And somehow… that made it worse.

…

Sometimes, having someone who waits for you is a great thing.

And the problem is… you don’t know how long this whole “boyfriend-girlfriend” thing between you and Wonwoo is going to last.

You want to scream. Maybe cry a little.

What the hell are you even doing?

Go with the flow?

The only thing flowing right now is your shameless, stupid chain of actions and their consequences.

You’re fucked.

Not literally. At least not yet. Maybe later.

So what now? You’re going to see his face every day without the constant reminder of, hey, this was all a mistake and you’re about to get exposed!

Chan keeps convincing you that you’re not messing with him. Maybe it didn’t start on the right foot, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make it real.

Right?

Or maybe Wonwoo just feels bad for you.

Yeah. That makes more sense.

There’s no way he’d genuinely want to be with someone who apologizes to the floor after tripping over it.

If you’re wrong, then Chan aced his test, Seungkwan quit drinking, and Jeonghan stopped collecting rocks from unknown places.

Exactly.

Your class ended, and somehow your first instinct was to find Wonwoo.

You saw him waiting, leaning against his bike while scrolling through his phone.

When he noticed you approaching, he looked up and smiled, straightening himself.

Now that you think about it…

He’s kind of cute.

His smile, you mean.

“Did you finish your class?” he asked, his voice softer than you remembered.

Your stomach immediately did that stupid fish-flipping thing.

God. Just kill me.

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I only had one class today. What about you?”

“Just finished a while ago.” He tilted his head slightly. “Have you eaten yet?”

You paused before shaking your head. “Does a cup of coffee this morning count?”

He gave you a look then nodded once, like he expected that answer. Without another word, he reached for your hand and started leading you somewhere.

Gah damn.

You feel like an idiot right now. You obviously know where he’s taking you, but you ask anyway just to feed your tiny, fragile ego.

“Where are we off to, boyfriend?”

“To eat. Since you haven’t.”

You swear you can practically hear Chan’s stupid grin from across campus, hyping you up. He will never let you live this down.

You have to physically restrain the giggle threatening to escape.

Then suddenly, from a distance, you spot a familiar figure.

Cheol.

Of course.

You want absolutely nothing to do with him.

You quickly tug on Wonwoo’s sleeve. He turns to look at you, puzzled with the sudden tug. And before you can overthink it, you lean up and kiss him.

He freezes.

He pulls back slightly and stares at you.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, trying not to make it weird. “Um… I just missed you so much.”

It takes him a second to process that.

Before he can respond, you grab his hand tighter and drag him away.

...

People always say if you’re going to be in a relationship, you have to be prepared to take the bitter with the sweet.

You know that. Realistically speaking.

That’s how you always end up anyway. When you fall in love, you don’t really think about the consequences.

And apparently, in this situation, you have absolutely no idea how to handle this whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing with Wonwoo. At some point, he’s going to find out the truth anyway.

So what’s actually bothering you?

The fact that you started this whole thing, randomly adopting him and declaring he’s your boyfriend just so someone else wouldn’t snatch him?

Or the fact that you weren’t serious about it in the first place?

Or… are you just scared he might actually end up liking you?

Wait.

Let’s not go that far.

Yes, he technically accepted the whole boyfriend-girlfriend label. He never denied it. He could’ve said no.

But he didn’t.

This is so confusing.

At the very least, he takes the “boyfriend” role seriously.

Unlike your previous situationship.

Love-bombed you. Then ghosted you.

Classic.

On the bright side, you’re not addicted to cocaine.

Just caffeine.

On another bright side, you’re seriously considering slapping Chan because why the hell are he and Seungkwan sitting at the same table as you and Wonwoo at the campus café?

“So,” Seungkwan started, sipping his americano while eyeing both of you, “how did you two become official?”

You quietly sipped your caramel macchiato, which Wonwoo paid for.

And when you tried to take out your card earlier, he just looked at you and paid anyway.

You had to physically hold back a fat grin, pretending you weren’t internally screaming that he paid for you.

The bar is in hell.

Wonwoo thought for a moment before answering calmly, “She gave me a pick-up line.”

You almost choked.

Why would he say that in front of your friends?

Chan and Seungkwan stifled their laughter.

“Oh?” Seungkwan leaned forward. “That actually worked? I’m impressed.”

They snickered and nudged each other, not even trying to hide how annoying they were being.

From the looks of it, they were definitely about to drag you.

Much to Wonwoo’s obliviousness.

“I know,” you said sweetly, smiling at them. “I can give you one too. I like to think I’m creative.”

They both made exaggerated “ooh” sounds, already giggling.

You rolled your eyes. “Chan, I really hope you’re from Europe.”

He blinked.

“Because europiece of shit.”

Wonwoo’s lips pressed together.

Chan’s smile dropped. “Oh come on. That’s not even creative. My grandma could come up with that.”

“Oh yeah? Can your grandma do a backflip? I bet she can’t.”

Sometimes you hate when people say you need to be the bigger person. 

If anything, all of you can go to hell together.

“This is why you easily lost to that Jia girl,” Seungkwan sighed, shaking his head. “You’re easily overstimulated. I hope you know that.”

Coming from him was wild.

But at the mention of her, in front of Wonwoo made you stiffened.

Still, you tried not to make it obvious that she was the entire reason you’re in this situation.

“I wasn’t overstimulated,” you huffed, sipping your drink. “Grounding techniques don’t work for me, especially in public. ‘Name five things you can see’ but the only thing I see is a bunch of people pissing me off.”

You heard Wonwoo stifle a quiet chuckle beside you.

That was cute.

What.

Anyway.

“Okay, that was actually funny,” Chan admitted. “How do you even come up with that?”

Another suppressed laugh from Wonwoo.

“What can I say? I learned from the best,” you said proudly, puffing your chest. “Isn’t that right, boyfriend?”

You turned to him with a cutesy voice, not realizing your hands had been intertwined with his under the table the whole time.

At that, Seungkwan almost spat out his coffee.

You were offended.

“That part wasn’t supposed to be funny,” you deadpanned. “I hope you know that, Boo.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “No way. I just choked on coffee beans.”

“Really?” Chan peered into his americano. “Thought it was perfectly blended.”

“You know there’s this thing called sarcasm?”

And just like that, they started debating coffee brewing theory like two unemployed baristas.

You decided to ignore the boys.

Instead, you focused on your ‘boyfriend’ beside you.

He had ordered a strawberry frappuccino for himself.

How cute.

WHAT.

You seriously need to stop thinking he’s cute.

But now that you think about it…

You remembered how he used to give you those carton strawberry milk from the vending machine when you had class together last semester.

The first time you noticed one sitting beside him, you casually mentioned that you loved that brand.

He immediately offered it to you, saying he actually meant to grab chocolate milk but the machine gave him strawberry instead.

“Not really my thing,” he had said.

So he gave it to you.

And somehow… every single class after that, there was always a strawberry milk waiting on your desk.

The strawberry milk had always been waiting for you.

Wonwoo reminds you a little of your dad. The moment you tell him you like a specific snack, he’ll buy it over and over until you’re sick of it.

You didn’t realize how much you missed that stupid carton strawberry milk agenda until now.

Maybe that’s just how he shows he cares.

Quietly.

Or maybe… he’s been caring the whole time.

Not just when he patiently taught you complicated equations. Not just when he stayed back after class because you always took forever to pack your things. Not just when he waited for you and walked you to the cafeteria or your next class even when his was on the opposite side of campus. Not just when he saved you the seat beside him because the middle row was always full.

Maybe it was always there.

And you were too busy being dramatic to see it.

Ah.

That realization made your chest ache a little.

Because what even was that?

Here you were, hoping Cheol would give you roses and the moon on Valentine’s Day when you weren’t even a thing. Giggling over his simple “good morning” texts, only to receive nothing after a whole day class.

Not that you could blame him. Hoping for more was probably too much when there was never a label to begin with. You thought you were something.

Turns out, you were just… convenient.

Gut-wrenching, honestly.

He never promised anything. Never compromised anything.

Maybe it really was your fault for wanting more.

And you hated feeling like this.

Did you ask for too much?

Or were you just never clear about what you wanted?

You’re such an idiot sometimes.

Noticing your subtle downcast expression, Wonwoo brushed his thumb gently over your intertwined hands.

“You’re not hungry anymore?” he asked softly.

God.

That tone again.

You snapped out of your thoughts and shook your head, shoving the anxiety aside as you scooped lasagna into your mouth.

You should not be spiraling. He literally paid for this.

“Nope. I’m very hungry, alright,” you said mid-bite.

He smiled and dabbed at the corner of your lips with a tissue.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? Is the semester that hard this time?”

“Not really,” you muttered while chewing. “Maybe the lab reports are just a hassle. What about you? Software engineering must be fun.”

“Mm. I guess,” he shrugged lightly. “If you like complexity, it’s exciting.”

You nodded slowly, then offered him a small spoonful of lasagna. He accepted it without hesitation.

“Yeah. No. I don’t think that’s fun,” you grimaced. Then, casually, “By the way… I thought you weren’t a fan of strawberries?”

You gestured toward his strawberry frappuccino.

“…Ah.” He blinked, glancing down at the drink like he’d just remembered something. “I just felt like drinking it today. It tastes nice.”

“May I?” you asked, already leaning in to take a sip from his straw.

Basically making an indirect kiss.

Again.

He simply nodded, letting you drink it like this was completely normal.

Meanwhile, across the table, Chan and Seungkwan witnessed the entire exchange.

They loudly slurped their half-finished drinks, making exaggerated straw noises.

Birds of fucking feather.

Arguing with them was pointless. They were doing it on purpose.

You swore that you have no anger issues. People just make you want to develop them.

And unfortunately, those people are your friends.

Sore losers.

“Yeeeah, you know what?” Seungkwan stood up first. “We’re going to leave you lovebirds now. I’m a busy man.”

“Mhm. I think I have class after this,” Chan added, about to stand.

You kicked his leg under the table.

“Ow! What was that for? Not even a thank you?”

“Sit and stay,” you said sternly, then looked at Seungkwan. “And I know for a fact media studies isn’t that busy. Liar.”

If anything, you’re the busy one here.

Busy overthinking. Busy pretending.

Busy trying not to realize that maybe… just maybe…

This isn’t fake anymore.

They say to be in love is to be seen.

It baffles you that it’s been almost five weeks since this… “boyfriend-girlfriend” thing with Wonwoo started.

You refused to call it a relationship properly, not technically, at least because this didn’t happen purely out of love or devotion.

It’s not like Wonwoo was wishy-washy with you during this time. In fact, he was far more committed than some people who never even show up for 5% of group participation.

Unlike someone who just left you breadcrumbing.

But Wonwoo has his own flaws. You couldn’t even call them flaws. Because…

Wonwoo is just Wonwoo.

He never texted unless you initiated first on random days. His messages were dry, yes, but that’s just the way he was.

Maybe it was because you got used to it when you first met him last semester as your calculus buddy.

If it were someone else, you would have rolled your eyes and muttered, “man, he’s dry as hellllll,” because you’d overthink every single nonchalant message.

You did call him that once. And you decided never again.

The more you thought about the past every moment, every little habit you observed when you were friends, it felt like you were holding onto tiny pieces of him.

Damn.

You wished your memory worked that well for formulas too.

But instead of feeling haunted, it felt… pleasing. Everything about being with him was easy.

He may not be the first texter, but he always checked in, making sure you arrived home safely, asking if you’d eaten, offering to bring something before you even got to campus.

He never really asked you about your day; he preferred to hear it from you face-to-face.

And somehow, you’d realized… he was a really good listener.

You weren’t an oaf or a fiasco, obviously.

But damn…

He’s a damn good boyfriend.

You don’t exactly remember the last time a relationship felt this… easy. It’s not the rush of adrenaline or butterflies though those exist but something quieter, something steady.

One thing you’d realized: he’s always been the one you keep coming back to. The one you run to, the one you can rely on without thinking twice.

You both were caring friends before this. So it felt… natural, to show gestures and affection. Nothing changed between you two, except for a little hand-holding here, a few soft kisses there.

You know what they say: when you like someone, you naturally want to do nice things for them.

In your case, sometimes being nice isn’t tied to affection. You compliment Chan’s ridiculous haircuts, tease Seungkwan mercilessly, make Vernon laugh until he chokes on his coffee. And Wonwoo…

Even in the current “relationship,” you’d always been nice to him. As a friend, as a calculus buddy, even cracking fart jokes fifty times in a row. It all just… happened.

You admit it, you like being around him. Even when he’s quiet. Even when you ramble about everything, ask too many questions, or repeat the same mistakes in tutorials. Even when you cling to him during class because you’re flunking.

That’s probably why you keep coming back.

And maybe… the whole Jia mess made you take him even more personally. You don’t want anyone pawing at him. You definitely take that personally, and now that he’s yours, you feel… possessive.

Woah. Hold on.

Yeah. Definitely possessive. Never knew you had it in you.

You were waiting at the vending machine, tapping your foot impatiently as it swallowed your money.

“Woah there, you’re gonna get sued for destroying property,” a voice chuckled behind you, snatching the drink from the machine.

You blinked. Of course it was Mingyu, grinning at you like it was a normal Tuesday.

“Well… it ate my money and didn’t give me my drink,” you muttered.

He pressed a button and a new drink slid down. “Chill. I got you.”

A brief silence.

“It’s been a while. How’ve you—”

“Fuck you,” you cut him off, immediately regretting nothing.

He blinked, mouth agape. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, barely hiding your bite about your last… situationship.

He handed over the soda. “Here. Don’t drink it all in one go.”

Your eyes landed on two cartons beside it, chocolate milk and strawberry. And you thought of Wonwoo.

“Really? Didn’t know you were into strawberry,” you said, teasing.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. This is for Wonwoo.”

Wait. Didn’t Wonwoo say he preferred chocolate over strawberry?

“Oh,” you said slowly.

Mingyu corrected himself with a shrug. “Sorry, it’s for my friend. I’m used to calling him that sometimes… not everyone knows him.”

So he thinks you don’t know him. Interesting. You had heard Wonwoo mention Mingyu before, but never that they were close. And apparently, Wonwoo hadn’t said anything about being in a relationship…

Wow. Relief mixed with panic. What if Mingyu accidentally snitched?

“I… know him,” you admitted. “We’re in the same class last semester.”

His face brightened. He clearly didn’t know his best friend was now in a relationship.

Whatever it is, you wondered how Wonwoo even ended up friends with Mingyu. Mingyu, the social butterfly, while Wonwoo prefers a small circle. He rarely talks about his social life… except with you, which you didn’t mind at all.

“Oh, cool,” Mingyu said, glancing at his watch. “Anyway, got to go, shortcake. See you when I see you.”

You waved as he slowly disappeared down the hallway.

In every possible way, you were going to need a lot of prayers and a little bit of luck to navigate this relationship.

Because quiet, steady, easy love is one thing. But keeping it under the radar? That’s a whole other game.

...

Chan once pointed out that you and Wonwoo were the epitome of “Love Is in the Air.” As if you’d ever believe that.

Or so you thought.

Because apparently, whenever he looked at both of you, it reminded him of his parents. And that’s how they ended up having him. Which explains why his parents still look suspiciously young.

You told him to shut up.

Still, the comment lingered longer than you wanted it to.

You’ve always been aware that you wear your heart on your sleeve. Blame your lovable parents for raising you in a home where affection wasn’t scarce. And yet somehow, you still managed to get sad over a guy who wasn’t even serious about you.

For someone who had a decent childhood, you sure had questionable romantic encounters.

And frankly… you’ve figured that Wonwoo might be more similar to you than you initially thought.

He’s a good kid.

In this situation, you are calm. Almost way too calm but at the same time, there’s this small anxiety clawing at you because you weren’t honest from the beginning.

No matter how much Chan tries to reason that you’ll eventually grow into it, you can’t shake the thought.

They say when a heart is forced into something it doesn’t want, it slowly dies.

But your heart doesn’t feel like it’s dying.

If anything, it feels… natural. Easy and alive.

Which confuses you more.

What your heart definitely doesn’t want right now, however, is folding another dumpling wrapper.

You and Chan were helping Seungkwan prepare dumplings for his volunteering project at the Carat Retirement Home. Apparently, homemade dumplings feel more “heartfelt.”

Your hands were sore. You just finished your hundredth dumpling. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?” you muttered, mid-annoyance.

“Tell me about it,” Chan sighed, placing another neatly folded one onto the tray before immediately starting the next. He was disturbingly efficient.

Seungkwan was already packing another batch, while Vernon worked quietly beside him, focused like he was solving world hunger instead of sealing dumplings.

“Because you guys are my friends,” Seungkwan replied dramatically, patting the sealed box. “And friends stick together.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You said that last time when you made us carry fifty chairs.”

“And?”

“And I developed trust issues.”

Chan snorted at that and Vernon smiled faintly without looking up.

Seungkwan pointed his flour-covered finger at you. “Also, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You froze when you heard his almost accusatory tone, “Notice what?”

“The glow.”

Chan gasped loudly. “SEE? I TOLD YOU.”

“There is no glow,” you deadpanned.

“There is,” Seungkwan insisted. “You and Wonwoo are disgusting lately.”

You nearly dropped your dumpling. “Excuse me?”

“Disgustingly in love,” Chan corrected, nodding seriously.

You scoffed. “We barely even kiss.”

Vernon finally spoke, calm as ever. “It’s not about that.”

The three of them looked at you like you were the last person to realize something obvious.

“It’s the way he looks at you,” Chan said softly this time. There’s not a hint of teasing behind it.

Your hands stilled.

You swallowed. “He doesn’t.”

“He does,” Seungkwan said. “Like you hung the moon or something.”

That made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t like.

Because if that’s true, if he really does look at you like that—

Then what are you doing?

You weren’t even honest at the start. You kissed him knowing your feelings were messy. You claimed him when you were still sorting yourself out.

And yet…

Your heart doesn’t feel forced.  It doesn’t feel pressured.

It feels rather… safe.

And that might be the scariest part of all.

Chan nudged your shoulder. “You’re overthinking again.”

You sighed and picked up another wrapper. “Shut up and fold your dumplings.”

But deep down, you couldn’t stop wondering.

If he really sees you, when will you be brave enough to see him back?

You hated that your friends’ greatest research skills weren’t academic. It was being nosy bitches with investigative journalism degrees in your love life.

After an hour, the dumpling massacre finally ended. Everything was packed nicely, sealed properly, stacked like you were preparing for war. Somehow, random side quests always squeezed themselves into your schedule.

Still, it was better than entertaining some fuckable situationship that drained your soul and GPA at the same time.

“Come to think of it…” Seungkwan scratched his head, leaning over the stack of boxes. “I don’t think any of my committee members can help send these. Or lend their car.”

Chan exhaled sharply. “Seriously, dude? They didn’t help make dumplings and now they won’t even help deliver, what kind of NPC teammates are these?”

Vernon stared at the five—no, six boxes. “These are a lot. A seven-seater would do.”

Then all three of them slowly turned to you.

You avoided eye contact immediately.

Of course. You’re the only one with a car. The designated driver. The unpaid driver service.

“What?” you blinked. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Seungkwan’s smile curled dangerously. “You know I love you, right?”

“Ew. Fuck off.”

“I’ll pay your petrol.”

You scoffed. “Still no. I don’t drive in the rain. You know I don’t do that.”

Rain made your hands tense. Made your mind spiral. The nicest thing about rain is that it always stops. Eventually. You remember that from Winnie the Pooh. You still watch it sometimes.

Chan suddenly perked up, an evil genius smile forming. “I know. Ask your boyfriend.”

You frowned immediately, mildly defensive. “Look. He can’t. Don’t drag him into this.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just ask him to drive. It’s not a crime. We’ll hang out after. You won’t even have to send us home.”

“And what makes you think he would?” you challenged.

Seungkwan didn’t hesitate. “For you? He would.”

Silence.

“…It’s not going to happen,” you muttered while already scrolling through your contacts.

You glanced up. “…You think so?”

The three of them collectively nodded.

For fuck’s sake.

Sometimes it felt like these idiots were just exploiting your assets. But to be fair, they paid for petrol and took turns driving.

Still… asking Wonwoo felt heavier. Even though he never once made you feel like a burden.

“…I haven’t called him yet,” you said, watching them already start cleaning up like it was confirmed.

Chan shrugged while rearranging chairs. “He’ll say yes. He never denies you.”

Heat crept up your neck.

As much as you wanted to argue, he wasn’t wrong.

Wonwoo never says no. Not when you hesitate. Not when you ramble. Not even when you’re clearly spiraling.

Like he’d move heaven and earth for you.

And before you could properly process the weight of that thought, you called him.

You explained everything.

And he came in the end.

Obviously he did.

Now you’re watching the boys load the boxes into your car trunk. When you tried lifting one, Wonwoo gently took it from you.

“I’ll do it,” he said simply.

You stared at his back for a second too long.

You always complain your taste in men is trash. So why are you praising the bare minimum?

That’s what they say, right? Love comes wrapped in dough.

“Can you tie the knot?” Seungkwan gestured at Chan.

“No, I cannot.” He replied.

“So you can knot?”

“Not knot.”

“Knot knot?”

Vernon chimed in smoothly, “Who’s there?”

Seungkwan groaned, not in the time to be funny. “Hansol!”

“Hansol who?”

That’s how the three of them derailed into a full knot-knot-who’s-there argument while you just stood there.

You turned to Wonwoo.

“Sorry for calling you out of nowhere,” you said softly. “It was last minute. Seungkwan’s team bailed.”

He shook his head, hands sliding into his pockets. In the distance, your friends were still arguing about knots.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t have much to do on campus anyway. And your friends are… fun.”

You smiled at that. A real one.

“Do you want to join us after this?” you asked, hopeful.

Your friends are your pride. You might be unlucky in love, but you’re blessed with these chaotic idiots.

Wonwoo looked at you for a second, just at you.

Then he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

And something about how quickly he agreed made your chest tighten again.

Because Chan was right.

He never denies you.

And you don’t know if that makes you lucky or feeling terrified about it.

…

After completing your little side quest, your three friends kept insisting on going for a hangout afterward. Karaoke, as usual. It’s not like it’s the first time you guys have done this. More often than not, honestly.

Not to mention you had to snap at them every five seconds from the passenger seat while Wonwoo was driving. The car radio was blasting through Bluetooth, “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus, their choice, obviously.

Then you ended up at a photobooth, squeezing all five of you into the tiny space. You honestly couldn’t remember how many photobooth strips you had back in your room with your friends from high school, committees, and now them.

But this was the first time you had one with Wonwoo.

You smiled at the group photo of your friends with your boyfriend included, of course.

Then it occurred to you.

Shouldn’t you take one with him? Just the two of you?

You glanced at the three idiots, still crowding the mirror with cute headbands, arguing about whether they should be three bears or minions.

So you poked Wonwoo and sheepishly dragged him back into the booth. “Let’s take a picture. Just the two of us.”

For some reason, you felt a little too giddy. You weren’t sure if it was your pure excitement over adding to your photobooth collection, which you always loved or simply the fact that it was with him. Your first one as boyfriend and girlfriend.

He let you have your way, as usual. But this time, he actually contributed posing properly, leaning in, following your lead. You felt genuinely happy, without feeling anxious or overthinking.

When the third camera click sounded, you pressed your lips against his cheek, catching him off guard.

He froze for half a second.

Then he leaned in.

The fourth photo captured your face half-covered as he kissed you back, making you giggle.

When the session ended, Wonwoo looked at the preview screen.

“Should we retake the last one?” he asked.

You studied it for a moment. It looked natural. Genuine. So you shook your head and pressed the screen to print.

“No. It looks great already.”

When the machine finally dispensed the photo strips, you grabbed them excitedly.

“Aren’t we the cutest pair?” you showed him.

His lips curled softly. “We are.”

The rest was history.

The rain had stopped by then, and your stupidly annoying friends suggested going to the beach.

Not that you minded but Wonwoo was the one driving. In fact, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

What you were actually worried about was whether he ever felt overwhelmed around your circle. They could be chaotic. Not everyone could keep up.

It wasn’t his first time hanging out with them. Somehow, wherever you went, he was there too. Your friends were more than happy to third-wheel. It was like they had unofficially adopted him into the group.

Not that you minded.

Wonwoo once said they were lively to be around. That there was never a boring day with them, even if he mostly observed.

When you asked about his own friends, he didn’t say much. He did mention Mingyu though, pretty confidently. Maybe that was his way of showing how close they were.

The three boys walked ahead of you both, laughing and lightly kicking sand at each other while trash-talking. Probably Seungkwan and Chan.

You suddenly felt like something was missing. Your hand went to your bangs. Your cherry hair clip was gone.

Wonwoo noticed your expression immediately. “Something wrong?” His hand rested gently behind your back as you both slowed down.

“…My cherry clip. I think I lost it in the mall bathroom.”

To be specific, it was a gift from Seungcheol. Don’t ask. You wore it because it was there. Because you told yourself it should be useful for something.

He blinked slightly at your expression. It might seem silly to anyone else but clearly, it wasn’t nothing to you.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. It looked newly bought.

Inside were two strawberry hair clips.

They were ridiculously cute. Your eyes sparkled instantly.

“Here…” He opened the packaging and gently clipped your bangs aside. He smiled at how it revealed your forehead slightly.

He always liked when you wore hair clips while studying in the library.

“…Better?” he asked quietly.

You absentmindedly touched the clip and nodded.

“When did you buy this?” you chuckled softly. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding more things from me.”

You were joking.

Until he pulled out another velvet blue box.

You blinked.

“Oh. I did, actually,” he said with a low chuckle. “At first I planned to buy it because it reminded me of you. Then I figured… I just wanted to give you something nice.”

Inside was a golden heart-shaped locket.

Your face lit up as you held it in your palm.

“Let me,” he murmured, stepping closer.

He fastened it around your neck, his fingers brushing against your bare nape. Warm hands resting briefly on your shoulders.

When you turned to face him, you instinctively held the pendant between your fingers.

“I love it,” you beamed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to—it’s too sweet.”

He shook his head. “I told you. I wanted to.”

Damn.

Your heart felt like it might burst. “Is there anything I can give you in return?”

He chuckled softly, your hands naturally intertwining. “Just you.”

You smiled shyly.

Maybe Chan was right. Maybe love really is in the air when you’re around each other.

“Did you know you can’t spell love?” you asked.

He tilted his head, genuinely intrigued like he always was with your random thoughts. “How does that work?”

“You don’t spell it,” you said, swinging your intertwined hands. “You feel it.”

His smile widened. “Was that supposed to make my heart flutter? Because it worked. How do you even come up with these things?”

You laughed. “I’m unoriginal. It’s from a conversation between Pooh and Piglet from Winnie the Pooh.”

You continued thoughtfully, brushing the locket. “You know, this reminds me of that quote… ‘If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever.’”

You shrugged lightly. “I first saw it on my mom’s Facebook when I was ten. I loved that show. Spent a lot of time watching it with my cousin.”

“That’s sweet,” he said softly.

You shook your head. “But the meaning isn’t really my favorite. It’s often used for condolences or long-distance relationships. Like love surviving separation.”

He noticed the small pout on your face and gently lifted your chin.

“Does that make you sad?” he asked. “You don’t have to see it that way. It can be positive too. If you ever miss me, or if I’m not around, you can think of it as carrying a little piece of me with you.”

Your smile returned, softer this time.

That fish-flipping feeling stirred in your stomach again.

Slowly, the air shifted.

His hand wrapped a little closer around your waist. His head dipped slightly.

And before you fully processed it, he leaned down and kissed you.

You let him, your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back.

For the first time, you turned your brain off and let the moment happen.

A real kiss. Not the quick peck, or rush ones.

And you didn’t pull away.

You fell asleep during the car ride, your eyes slowly opening when you remembered that Wonwoo had probably dropped your friends off, leaving just the two of you.

Yawning softly, rubbing your eyes with your sleeves, your half-sleepy voice mumbled, “...Sorry, I must’ve dozed off during the long ride.”

“It’s alright, it’s been a long day,” he reassured, his eyes still on the road. “You can rest a bit. I’ll wake you up.”

You remembered that his place was probably far from your apartment. From the looks of the surroundings, it might’ve taken a while to reach yours first.

“What about you then, if you drop me off at my place?”

“I’ll just take a cab later. I need to send your car there.”

You thought for a moment. “Can I just stay over at your place? It’s going to be a long ride if you go back from mine. Besides, your place is almost there.”

He turned to you as the light went red. “You sure?”

You nodded.

Technically speaking, he’d been driving the whole day. You felt bad if he had to travel again just because of you. That’s what you told yourself that it was to lessen his burden.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s heart pounded rapidly at the mention of it.

This would be the very first time you were coming over to his apartment. Come to think of it, he didn’t even realize how easily he had agreed.

He never denies you. He never has.

And when he saw you sleeping soundly later, looking so peaceful on his bed, he felt like it was all a dream.

You in his space. It almost drove him insane. He couldn’t believe this was happening but he knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Because he knew.

It wasn’t real in the first place.

You weren’t honest with him.

When your anxious eyes looked at him with that hint of uncertainty. Those trembling lips. The way you suddenly grew nervous talking to him after not seeing him for so long after that semester.

He already knew.

It all started with Jia throwing herself at him. He had his suspicions. He’d seen her at a few parties, the one or two times he went with Mingyu. Parties were never really his style.

He knew the kind of group she was associated with. Mingyu might’ve been acquainted with them, but he never truly mixed with that crowd. It wasn’t hard to guess her intentions.

It was almost hilarious at first when he noticed you weren’t even subtle about hinting something was going on, yet he let you.

Because it had been a while since he last talked to you. Because he has always liked you.

Since that semester, you were both taking the same class. He met you on the second day when you arrived late, wearing a cat hair clip beside your bangs. Wonwoo thought you were cute.

Then you sat beside him and started asking what topic the professor had covered.

His impression died quickly when you kept saying you didn’t understand half of it.

It was only week two. Then it became a routine.

The professor always had his eyes on you, and you’d sheepishly smile. You were probably the slowest in class but that didn’t mean you were stupid.

At first, he found it bothersome. You kept tapping his shoulder, asking how and why, like you knew it would annoy him. You barely knew each other, yet you kept coming back to him like a cat waiting for treats.

To be frank, you stuck to him the entire semester.

When he asked your major and you answered “chemical engineering,” he was speechless.

How were you majoring in that and still struggling in calculus.

He didn’t say much. He helped you willingly just for that semester while trying not to suck in his breath too loudly at how clingy and close you were whenever you sat beside him.

Have you always been like this with others?

He later learned you were just naturally affectionate.

When he saw you with your friends, he genuinely thought you were already taken. You never cared much about proximity. You were always comfortable, always open.

He may or may not have casually slipped in a question about your relationship status.

Just curious.

When you told him you were single, his heart leaped.

Since then, he couldn’t remember how it started,  saving seats for you, waiting for you to pack your things before walking out together.

Listening to you ramble about half your life. Joining you for lunch because you hadn’t eaten since morning.

Heck, he even lied about preferring chocolate milk and gave you his strawberry one.

He loved strawberries.

And since then, he always brought an extra carton of strawberry milk to leave on your desk during class. Even at the library.

What kind of guy walks a girl to her next class when his own is on the other side of campus?

A guy with a massive crush.

Then one day, he saw you giggling at your phone.

He asked what was funny, thinking it was another meme you’d send him at 3 a.m. When you admitted you were talking to someone your face flushed, shyly talking about your crush.

His heart broke a little.

You liked someone.

He hoped, foolishly, that maybe it was him and it wasn’t.

You said his name.

Choi Seungcheol.

He knew that guy. A close friend of Mingyu’s. The type from frat parties he only attended once and never again.

That’s the guy you’re into?

You were the polar opposite of him. You were sweet, bright and charming. You deserved more than some random fuckboy who wasn’t serious about long-term relationships.

He noticed the way your eyes lingered on your phone more than once. The troubled look. The waiting. Always waiting.

You came to class looking more exhausted each day.

He hated seeing you like that.

He wanted the 9 a.m. version of you cracking jokes the moment you stepped into class.

But he couldn’t do anything.

Because he wasn’t the person you wanted and it hurt because it would never be him.

Study week came. Exams happened.

And just like that, the semester ended.

You were only meant to be friends in that specific chapter of life.

It ended as naturally as it began.

He was devastated when you stopped talking to him. No more laughter and random updates.

They said old habits die hard. He got used to your presence and he didn’t want to forget it.

Wonwoo had so much love to give you and you didn’t want it. He couldn’t have your heart because it was never his to begin with. He couldn’t give his to anyone else because it was only meant for you. It was so fucking heavy and he had nowhere to put it.

He genuinely loved you. The thought of never seeing you again killed him inside.

So when his long-time crush suddenly kissed him.

His heart stopped. He knew you didn’t mean it yet you did it anyway. He was confused. Why would you go this far? Force yourself like that?

He wanted to clear the misunderstanding.

But…

When else would he ever get the chance to be close to you again? So he took it. That fucking opportunity.

You claimed he was your boyfriend.

He let you kiss him first and when you asked things of him. He would literally drop everything for you.

He could see your hesitation and guilt. The way you tried not to cross certain boundaries.

He knew it wasn’t real but if you needed him, he would let you use him.

You might not like him the way he wanted but he tried his fucking best to make you love him.

You’ll eventually love him.

Right?

He loves you with all his heart. But he knows you haven’t fully healed. He knows he can never replace the place Seungcheol once had.

And even though it aches him. He foolishly hopes that every gesture, every word, every ounce of love he pours into you will someday reach your heart.

He wants you to accept all of him.

And it hurts.

He had hoped that one day, you would change your mind about him. That you would simply accept him and the heart he has always held out for you.

Because the moment you start to feel nothing, the moment you decide to end everything.

That would be the day his world crumbles.

You are his world. His entire fucking universe.

So he appreciates every single day he gets to spend with you. Every small moment. Every insignificant touch.

He is terrified that one morning he’ll wake up to you telling him you want to break up. That is his biggest nightmare. 

So he takes whatever version of you he can get.

If you break up, he doesn’t just lose you as a girlfriend. He loses you entirely. And he knows you wouldn’t talk to him anymore. Who even talks to their ex?

The moment you no longer need him anymore, that would be the day something inside him dies. Why build something if you’re just going to walk away from it? It doesn’t make sense.

Your heart is too genuine to feel absolutely nothing. You must have felt something, even if it’s small and even if it’s barely there. He clings to that possibility. His heart has always been yours. With patience, open and still waiting.

And now, here he was. Sitting on his couch, head thrown back, breath uneven as his hand moved against his cock at the thought of you.

His glasses were somewhere on the floor. On the coffee table sat your recent photobooth strips and the polaroids from the beach of your smiles frozen in glossy paper.

It was all too consuming.

You were innocently sleeping in his bed and he was out here, fisting his cock at the thought of you.

He’s a bastard, he thinks.

You are so precious to him. So sacred that he can’t even bring himself to lie beside you, afraid that if he does, he won’t be able to stop himself from touching you the way he truly wants to.

It hurts him. So fucking much.

All the yearning. The pining. The wanting.

He knows it’s unhealthy. He knows the way he craves you borders on obsession.

But he wants you.

All of you.

Only for him.

His grip tightens around his dick as he thinks about your smile and your laughter. The way your cheeks flush when you’re embarrassed.

He’s a bastard for getting turned on by the smallest touches the way your fingers fit so perfectly between his. The way your lips linger just half a second too long. He’s a bastard for wanting to devour you whole when you kissed him. And he’s a bastard for loving you so deeply while desiring you in the most intoxicating way.

Sometimes he wonders if that makes him no different from Seungcheol.

But at least he’s genuine. At least he loves you.

And if he ever saw Seungcheol around campus again, he’d consider it a blessing because the moment he saw that guy, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch straight across his jaw.

Because he would.

For you.

A/N: had to separate into two parts, no worries apples. the heat is about to get started. lmk if you want to be tagged on the next part here.

taglist𑣿: @coupsarchive @weirdcatlover1 @gyublues @charlieshelves @joongtime @iarayara

Here's the thing about Seungcheol. He is a walking contradiction and everything about him grates on your nerves the wrong way. The way he's wearing ridiculous compression shirts that should be illegal and you hate him for it. You hate him in a way that makes you clench your teeth when he shuffles into the kitchen at noon on a Saturday, hair ruffled, those ridiculous plush lips wrapped around a protein shake straw while he blinks at you with eyes so big and brown they should be reserved for baby cows or animated Disney characters, not your flatmate who spends approximately fourteen hours a day alternating between screaming at Valorant and deadlifting twice his body weight in the gym.

You hate the way his thick brows furrow when he's concentrating on a boss fight, the way his dimples carve themselves into his cheeks when he laughs at something stupid in whatever anime is currently playing on his second monitor. You hate that he owns compression shirts—multiple, in different colours and sleeve lengths—and that they cling to his chest and shoulders like it's their personal responsibility to showcase every contour of muscle underneath. You hate that he's your flatmate and you have to see this every single day.

You especially hate that he's bitchless.

To be fair, it shouldn't bother you. It really shouldn't. But it does anyways. The man has no personal life to speak of. His social calendar consists of online gaming sessions with his friends—Wonwoo, Woozi and Hoshi, their voices floating through his headset or just speakers at all hours of the night—and occasional trips to the gym where you assume he intimidates everyone else into silence with those shoulders until a woman approaches and then he's the one intimidated. Because Seungcheol doesn't date. He doesn't bring anyone home. He doesn't even seem to look at other people when you're out together grabbing groceries or picking up takeout. You assumed in your mind that maybe he's gay but no, your gaydar doesn't go off when you observe him. And the way he turns into a mess specifically when women are involved only proves that it's not the case. He's just got no game.

You found out exactly how bad it is when your friend Jess came over one time while you were getting ready to go out. She arrived a little early and you'd told her to just come up, it's fine, my flatmate is harmless. And she'd walked in, taken one look at Seungcheol on the couch in his compression shirt and gaming headset, controller in hand, and literally stopped in her tracks.

"Oh," she'd said. And then, because Jess has no filter: "That's your flatmate? The loser you're always complaining about?"

This is when Seungcheol had chosen the moment to pause his game and look up. Had seen Jess—Jess with her perfect hair and perfect makeup and perfect body in her perfect girls-night-out dress. And he'd fucking frozen. His mouth had opened and no words came out. His ears had turned this deep, mortified red that crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks, and he'd just… sat there. Staring silently.

You'd had to physically drag your friend to your room to break this embarrassing staring contest.

"Holy shit," she'd whispered, clutching your arm when you locked the door behind you. "He's hot. Like, actually hot. Why didn't you tell me he was hot? He's gorgeous. Those eyes? Those lips? And his body, oh my god, I bet if he stood up and faced us I'd see everything through that shirt—"

"He's a loser," you'd hissed back, rummaging through your makeup bag with more force than necessary, annoyance spiked through the roof. "He watches hentai. He has a figure collection and he argues with strangers on Reddit about coolest Naruto characters."

"I don't care if he collects toe nail clippings," Jess had said flatly and you sent her a disgusted look. "I could climb him like a tree."

And then you'd gone back to the living room and Seungcheol had still been sitting there frozen, ears burning, apparently incapable of forming words while Jess smiled at him and said goodbye. He'd managed a single, jerky nod. That was it. You'd had to restrain yourself from turning around and hissing at him something along the lines of dude, what the fuck?

Later, when you came home from your brunch with friends, you'd found him in the kitchen breathless and chugging water like he'd just run a marathon. Maybe he did. You didn't know and you really didn't want to find out.

"Dude," you'd said, leaning against the doorway. "What was that?"

He'd looked at you with those big cow eyes, still flushed. "What was what?"

"My friend Jess earlier. You couldn't even talk to her. She said hi and you short-circuited."

His flush had deepened. He'd shrugged, mumbled something about needing to game, and fled to his room.

And you stood there in the kitchen, annoyed for reasons you couldn't name. Because he doesn't shut down around you. He never has. From the day you moved in, he's been normal—annoyingly normal, the kind of normal where he leaves dirty dishes in the sink and eats your snacks without asking and makes dumb jokes about your music taste. He teases you about your recent Bridgerton obsession. He complains when you use all the hot water. He argues with you about whose turn it is to take out the trash.

He never once looked at you like he looked at Jess—like he'd forgotten how to function, like he was seeing someone worth being nervous around.

And you don't know why that bothers you. You don't know why it sits in your chest like a splinter, why it surfaces every time you catch him laughing at his monitor or flexing in the hallway mirror he hung there to check his form after workouts. You don't know why, when you meet your friends at the cafe every month and Jess inevitably brings him up—So, how's the hot flatmate? Still not talking to women?—you feel something twist that you can't identify.

You tell yourself it's just annoyance. He's your flatmate. You have to live with him. Of course you're going to have feelings about him.

You tell yourself a lot of things.

Doesn't mean they're true. Doesn't mean you are going to admit it.

You're at the club. It is loud and sweaty and exactly the type of place you usually love but tonight it's just annoying. The bass vibrates up through your feet and into your bones and the guy who bought you a drink keeps trying to put his hand on your waist, and his friends are all watching from the booth like they're waiting to see if he'll score. You've been dickless for four months. Four months of this—guys who are cringe, guys who're boring, guys who can't hold a conversation, guys who think grinding on you for thirty seconds counts as foreplay.

You're tipsy enough that the irritation has morphed into something sharp and hot under your skin. Tipsy enough that when you stumble into your apartment at three in the morning, kicking off your heels and dropping your purse on the floor, you're primed to be annoyed by whatever you find.

What you find is Seungcheol on the couch.

He's in his usual spot, controller in hand, headset pushed down around his neck. The TV is on some game you don't recognise. He's wearing grey sweats and a tank top that leaves his shoulders bare, and his hair is messy like he's been running his hands through it, and he looks up when you come in and blinks those big eyes at you.

"You're back late," he says. "Good night?"

Something inside you snaps.

"No," you hear yourself say. Your voice comes out flat and maybe a little slurred. "It was a shit night. All guys are shit. Every single one of them."

His eyebrows go up. He pauses the game, sets the controller down, gives you his full attention in a way that's almost unsettling. You feel it grate on your nerves. "That bad?"

"They're all cringe." You're walking toward the couch now, you're not sure why, your feet carrying you forward while your brain churns with four months of frustration and this other thing that's been building since Jess came over and he couldn't even look at her properly. "They don't know how to talk to women. They don't know how to do anything. They just—they stand there and expect you to be impressed that they bought you a drink."

Seungcheol's lips twitch. Those plush, stupid lips. "Sounds rough."

"Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing." He's not. He's looking at you with an expression that you can't read, but there's something careful and soft about it. "Do you want water? You seem—"

"I seem what?"

"Frustrated."

The word lands in your chest and explodes. Frustrated. Yeah. That's one way to name it. Four months of no sex. four months of shitty dates and cringe club guys. four months of watching your flatmate exist in his compression shirts with his pretty face and his complete lack of interest in y—

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

The question comes out of nowhere, before you can even properly finish your line of thought. You don't know you're going to ask it until it's already hanging in the air between you. Seungcheol's eyes go wide. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"What?"

"You heard me." You're standing right in front of him now, close enough to touch. The alcohol is doing things to your brain, lowering all your inhibitions, letting the splinter in your chest work its way out. "When Jess came over you couldn't even talk to her. You just sat there like a—like a loser." In your head you know you sound bitter, it registers with delay like everything else. Your sober self wishes you didn't say that, that you weren't mean like that. But you are. You're drunk, you're frustrated and you're unreasonably mean. "But you talk to me fine. You're always fine with me. So either you think I'm not worth being nervous about or—"

"Or what?"

"Or I don't know. Fuck!" You throw your hands up. "I don't know what I'm saying. I'm drunk. I'm going to bed."

You turn to leave. You make exactly one step before his hand closes around your wrist.

"Wait."

The word is quiet. Different from his usual voice—lower, rougher. You turn back. He's still sitting on the couch, but he's looking up at you now with an expression you've never seen on him before. There's something dark in those big brown eyes. And it makes your stomach flip.

"You wanna know why I'm not nervous around you?" he says slowly. "Because I live with you. Because I see you every day. Because if I got nervous every time you walked into the room in one of those little dresses or bent over to get something from the fridge or came out of the shower with your hair wet, I would literally never be able to function. I just had to become cool with a bunch of stuff real quick."

Your heart stops. Then starts again, too fast.

"What?"

"You asked," his grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly. "I'm answering. Yes, I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I've thought that since the day you moved in. I've jerked off to you more times than I can count. I have to leave the room sometimes when you're wearing certain things because I can't handle it. But yeah, that's why I'm not nervous. Because I've had eight months to get used to the fact that you're out of my league and nothing's ever going to happen, so I might as well just… exist around you and pretend I'm fine."

He stops. Breathes. His ears are red, you notice. That same mortified shade from when Jess was here.

You should either start a proper conversation with him or just leave and pretend it never happened, that the next morning you don't remember a thing. Instead, what comes out of your mouth is: "Okay, then prove it."

His brows draw together. "Prove what?"

"That you thought about me the way you say you did. That… that you want me." You don't know where this boldness is coming from. The alcohol probably. The frustration. The four months of nothing and the way his words are seeping into your skin, warm and electric. "Show me."

For a long moment, he just stares at you and you think he's going to chicken out. Then his expression shifts—you see a hint of something hot and hungry that makes you hold your breath.

"You're drunk," he says. But his voice is rough now, and the sound of it does things to your insides.

"Tipsy. Not drunk," you argue as you step closer, enough that your knees bump against his. "So, are you really going to say no and lose your chance?"

Seungcheol answers with a tug of your wrist, pulling you down onto his lap.

You land straddling him, your dress riding up your thighs, your hands bracing on his shoulders. His shoulders are solid under your palms—all that muscle from all those hours in the gym, all those compression shirts hiding exactly what you're feeling now. His hands settle on your hips, fingers pressing into the curve of your waist, and he looks up at you with those big dark eyes and you realise you've made a terrible mistake.

Because you want this. You want this so badly it sends your pussy aching.

"Last chance to change your mind," he murmurs.

You kiss him.

His mouth is soft, lips chapped but still soft. You knew they would be—you've spent too much time staring and sneaking glances at these lips not to have imagined this—but the reality of it is different. He kisses like he's savouring you slowly, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. You make a sound against his mouth, embarrassing and needy, and you feel him smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes. "You like that?"

"Shut up."

He laughs low in his chest, and then he's kissing you again and his hands are moving, pushing the strap of your dress down your shoulder, tracing the line of your collarbone with fingers that are somehow gentle and rough at the same time. You rock against him without meaning to, chasing friction, and you feel it—the hardness pressing up against you through his sweats.

It's big.

You pull back, breathing hard. Look down. Then back up at his face, incredulous. Slowly getting even more irritated.

"Is that your cock?" The word is obscene, too direct, but the alcohol loosens your tongue and you don't take it back.

His ears go red again but there's still something smug in his expression. "Yeah."

"That's… that's all you?"

"I mean, it's mostly me. Little bit of you, I guess, since you're the reason it's happening."

You probably should say something clever that regains the upper hand, that makes you feel less like you've just had your breath knocked out of you. Instead what comes out is: "I need to see it."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Right now?"

"Of course right now. When else?" You hiss, your voice edged with frustration and want and that strange fuzzy impatience that alcohol brings. You're just annoyed that he's even asking, that he's making you wait when you can feel him against you and every nerve in your body is screaming for more.

Seungcheol hesitates for half a second—you can see him weighting something, maybe concern for your tipsy state or his own restraint—and then reaches down. You shift back just enough to give him room, watching as he lifts his hips and pushes his sweats and boxers down. Just low enough. Just enough for his cock to spring free, heavy and thick against his stomach.

You stare.

You've seen dicks before. You're a grown woman, you've had sex, you know what they look like. But you don't think you've ever seen one quite like this in real life. It's not the longest you've ever encountered—a bit above average maybe—but the girth. The fucking girth. His cock is so thick your mouth actually waters at the thought of trying to fit it anywhere.

"Well?" His voice is strained. "Good? Bad? Terrifying?"

"Shut up," you whisper again, and reach down to wrap your hand around it.

Seungcheol groans. And he sounds so raw and desperate. Especially when his head falls back against the couch cushion and reveals his neck. You find the sight vulnerable in the most exciting way. He lets out a smaller, choked groan and the sound goes straight between your legs, makes you clench around nothing. He's hot in your hand and the weight of him feels obscene. You can't even close your fingers all the way around the base, and the stretch of your thumb and middle finger trying to meet sends a little thrill straight through your tipsy haze. He's veined, flushed dark at the tip, and there's already a bead of precum pearling at the slit that makes your mouth water.

You swallow.

"Fuck," Seungcheol breathes, and the word is punched out of him like you've done something devastating with just your palm. His hips twitch again, involuntarily, and you watch the way the muscles in his stomach jump with the movement. "Your hand—fuck, your hand feels—"

You cut him off by squeezing, just a little, and his whole body jerks.

The couch creaks under you both. You're still straddling his thighs, your dress bunched up around your hips, and you can feel the heat of him radiating through his sweats against the inside of your bare leg. His hands have found your waist again, fingers pressing into the soft give of your skin like he needs to hold onto you or he'll fly apart.

"I can't even close my hand around you," you murmur, and it comes out wondering, almost awed. You're not trying to flatter him. You're genuinely fucked by the reality of it, the sheer size of him, and the alcohol in your system makes everything feel heightened, more immediate. "How is this… how do you even—"

"I know," he says, and there's something stupidly apologetic in his voice, which is so ridiculous you almost laugh. "I know, I'm sorry, I just—I'm big, okay, I've always been—"

"Don't apologize for your cock," you snap, but there's no heat in it. You're too busy stroking him again, watching the way his precum smears under your thumb, making the glide easier. "God, you're so thick. You're so fucking thick, Cheol!"

He makes a sound at that. A sound you've never heard a man make before—high in his throat, desperate, like you've wrung it out of him against his will. His ears are burning red, his cheeks flushed, and he's looking at you with those big dark eyes like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and also maybe a little terrifying.

"You can't just… say shit like that," he gets out. "You can't just—"

"I can say whatever I want." You lean forward, bracing your free hand on his shoulder, and your face is inches from his now. You can smell him—clean soap and warm skin underneath, something that's just him. "I'm the one with your dick in my hand. I think that gives me privileges."

His laugh is strangled. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Privileges. Got it."

You kiss him again, because you can't not. Because his mouth is right there and you want to taste the sounds he's been making. He meets you halfway, desperate and eager, and this time there's nothing slow about it. This time it's all teeth and tongue and the slick slide of your lips together, and his hands are moving on your body like he's trying to map every inch of you at once while he has a chance.

One hand slides up your back, pressing you closer. The other grips your hip hard enough to bruise, and you want that, want to wake up tomorrow with the ghost of his fingers stamped into your skin. You're still stroking him, slow and messy because you're distracted by his mouth, by the way he groans into you when your thumb sweeps over the head.

"Off," you gasp against his lips. "Take this off. I need to feel you."

You're tugging at his t-shirt, and he helps, pulling back just long enough to yank it over his head and toss it somewhere across the room. And then your hands are on his chest, his shoulders, and god. You've watched him in those compression shirts. You've watched the way his muscles move when he's lifting, when he's doing those stupid pull-ups in the doorway of his room. But seeing it up close, feeling it—

He's built. Thick in a way that matches the rest of him, broad shoulders and a chest that your hands can't quite span, with a happy trail dusting down his stomach in a line that makes you want to follow it with your tongue. You do, actually. You dip your head and press your mouth to the base of his throat, feel his pulse jumping under your lips, and then you're kissing down, down, across his collarbone, over the swell of his pec.

"Fuck," he gasps. His hands are in your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he can't decide whether to guide you or just let you do whatever you want. "Fuck, baby, your mouth."

Oh, you like that. Baby. You like the way it sounds falling from his lips, rough and wrecked and like he doesn't even realize he's said it. You drag your tongue across his nipple just to hear what sound he makes and he whines, really whines, and you feel it everywhere.

"S-sensitive," he admits, voice strained. "They're… fuck, that's—"

You do it again. Slower this time, circling, and then you bite down just lightly and he bucks underneath you, his cock jumping in your hand that you wrapped around him again.

"Jesus Christ," he pants. "You're going to… I can't… if you keep doing that I'm going to cum and I really don't want to cum yet."

You lift your head, looking at him through eyes that feel heavy-lidded and drunk. "Why not?"

"Because I want to be inside you when I do." He says it simply, like it's obvious, like there's no other option he'd even consider. And the way he says it, the certainty in his voice—it makes something hot and tight curl in your stomach.

"Yeah?" you hear yourself ask. "You want to fill me up? Want to fill my pussy?"

His pupils blow so wide his eyes look black. "Yes. Fuck, yes. I want… I want to be so deep inside you that you can't tell where I end and you begin. I want to feel you cream around me. I want—" He breaks off, swallowing hard. "I've thought about it. So much. Too much. Jerking off in my room thinking about your cunt and what it would feel like."

The word sounds obscene coming from him. Cunt. Like he's been saving it up, hoarding it, waiting for permission to use it. You rock against him again—a reflex, an instinct—and you feel him pressing up against you through the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Then do it," you say. "Fuck me. Fill me up. Make me feel every inch of this big fucking cock."

Seungcheol kisses you once more, hard and claiming, and then his hands are on your hips and he's lifting you like you weigh nothing, shifting you back just enough to reach between you. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he looks at you, questioning.

"Off," you confirm. "Now."

He slides them down your legs, slow, deliberate, watching the way they peel away from your dampened skin. You manoeuvre yourself to kick them off before straddling his lap again. And then his hand is between your thighs and you gasp because of how good his hands feel, how rough his palms are from the gym, how that roughness drags against the slick heat of you in a way that makes your vision go spotty.

"You're so wet," he murmurs, delighted. "Fuck, baby, you're soaking. Is this all for me?"

"Yes," you manage. "Yes, it's… I've been… every month, thinking about—"

"I know." He slides a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you whimper at the sensation. "I know, me too. Every time you walked past my room. Every time you left for the club in those little dresses. I'd hear you come home and I'd lie there and think about doing this."

He pushes a finger inside you, just one, and you cry out. You're so sensitive, so wound up, and the stretch of him even just one finger has you clenching down immediately.

"God, you're tight." His voice is wondering. "You're so fucking tight, baby. I don't know how I'm going to fit."

"You will." You're grinding down on his hand, desperate for more. "You will, I can take it, I want it—"

He adds a second finger and you see stars.

It's a stretch, a real stretch, and you're suddenly very aware of exactly how big he is, how much bigger than his fingers he's going to be. But it's a good stretch, the kind that makes your mouth fall open and your hips start moving on their own, riding his hand while he watches you with those dark, hungry eyes.

"That's it," he murmurs. "That's it, baby, take my fingers. Get yourself ready for me."

You're babbling. You're not sure what you're saying—something about more, about please, about I need you inside me—and he's drinking it all in, curling his digits inside you, finding that spot that makes your whole body jolt.

"There?" he asks, and he's smug about it, the bastard. "That the spot?"

"Fuck you."

"Yeah?" He crooks his fingers again, deliberately, and you keen. "You want to? Because right now you're the one riding my hand like a desperate little slut."

The word hits you like a shot of something hot and sharp. From anyone else it might make you angry, but from him—from Seungcheol, your flatmate who leaves his protein shakes in the sink and does pull-ups in the doorway and looks at you like you hung the moon—it makes you clench down on his fingers so hard he groans.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, you like that, don't you? You like being my desperate little slut, getting off on my fingers on the couch like a fucking dream."

"Cheol—"

"I've got you." He pulls his fingers out and you whine at the loss, but then his hands are on your hips again, guiding you forward, and you feel him—the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, slippery with your wetness and his precum. "I've got you, baby. I'm going to take care of you."

He doesn't push in. He just holds you there, letting you feel the pressure, the promise of it, and you're so desperate you could cry.

"Please," you whisper. "Please, Cheol, I need—"

"I know what you need." His voice is rough, restrained, and you think he's holding himself back with everything he has. He probably is. "But I need you to look at me. I need you to see me when I do this."

You meet his eyes. They're dark and soft and it makes your chest ache, even through the haze of lust and alcohol.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

And then you sink down.

It's too much. It's immediately, overwhelmingly too much. He's so thick—thicker than his fingers, thicker than anything you've ever had inside you—and the stretch burns in a way that makes you gasp, makes your nails dig into his shoulders. You can only take half of him before you have to stop, trembling, your forehead dropping to his.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're so fucking tight around me."

"You're so big." It comes out wrecked, broken. "I can't… you're too—"

"You can." His hands are stroking your back, soothing, even though his voice is strained with the effort of holding still. "You can take it. You're doing so good, baby. Just breathe. Let yourself adjust."

You try. You take a breath, then another, and slowly the sharp edge of the stretch dulls into something more bearable. More than bearable—good. Full in a way you've never felt full before, it's like he's reaching places inside you that no one's ever touched. And maybe he is.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay, I'm… I think I can—"

"Take more," he urges. "Just a little more, baby. I need to be deeper."

You sink down another inch and moan. He fills you completely, impossibly, and you can feel yourself stretching around him, accommodating him, taking him. It's the most intense thing you've ever felt, and you're drunk and fuzzy and every sensation is amplified, overwhelming.

"That's it," he groans. "That's it, fuck, you're taking me. You're taking all of me, baby, look."

You look down. You shouldn't have looked down. Because you can see it—the place where your bodies meet, the way you're stretched around him, the way his cock disappears inside you and you're taking it, every thick inch from the tip to the base.

"Oh my god," you whisper.

"Yeah." His voice is wrecked. "Yeah, that's... fuck, you feel..."

He can't finish. You start to move.

It's clumsy at first. You're still adjusting to the stretch, still tipsy, still overwhelmed by the sheer fullness of him. But then you find a rhythm, rocking against him, and his head falls back and he makes these sounds—these desperate, broken sounds that you want to bottle and keep forever.

His hands guide your movements, helping you, and you can feel him everywhere. Stretched around him, full in a way you've never been full before. Every nerve ending is on fire, every sensation heightened by the alcohol in your system and the reality of what's happening.

"Look at me," you demand, but it comes out softer, needier than you intend. "I want you to look at me."

He does. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and he looks at you like you're sacred and he can't believe he's allowed to touch.

Your insides clench around him and you whine.

"You're so beautiful," he says, so wrecked and fucked out already. "Fuck, you're so... I've wanted this for so long—"

You lean down and press your lips to his, swallowing his words, and he responds with a desperation that matches your own. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, and he starts to thrust up into you from below, changing the angle, and something inside you zips up your spine.

"There," you gasp against his mouth. "Right there, don't stop, please."

Seungcheol doesn't stop. He fucks up into you with a rhythm that's steady and deep, hitting that spot inside you with every movement. The sound of it—the wet, sloppy sound of his cock sliding into your soaked cunt—fills the room along with your moans and his grunts.

"You feel that?" he murmurs against your throat. "You feel me hitting that spot, baby? Feel how deep l am?"

"Yes—fuck—yes—" he's kissing your cervix with his tip and it feels like your brain is getting fried.

"I'm so deep inside you." His voice is reverent and filthy all at once. "I'm so deep I can feel your heartbeat. Can you feel mine? Can you feel me pulsing in your tight little cunt?"

You can. You can feel every twitch, every throb, every inch of him buried inside you. The pressure is building, coiling tight in your belly, and you're going to cum—you're actually going to cum, and it's going to rip through you full force.

"That's it," he breathes. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? You're going to cum on my cock like a good little slut."

"Cheol—"

"Say it." His hand tangles in your hair, gently pulling your head back so he can see your face. "Say what you are. Say whose cunt this is."

"Yours," you gasp. "It's yours, I'm yours, I'm your—your good little slut, I'm-"

"Come for me."

You shatter.

It rips through you like nothing you've ever felt, wave after wave of pleasure so intense you can't breathe, can't think, can only cling to Seungcheol and sob against his neck while your body clenches around him over and over. He groans, hips stuttering, and you feel him pulse inside you, feel the hot rush of him filling you up, and that sends you over again, another wave crashing through you as he keeps cumming and cumming.

"Take it," he groans. "Take all of it, baby, fuck—"

He's still spilling inside you. You can feel it, hot and wet, flooding you, and there's so much of it, more than you've ever felt, and it's dripping out around him, soaking both of you, and you're still clenching, still coming down from your high when you realize.

He's still hard.

He's still hard, still buried inside you, and you can feel him twitching, feel the way he hasn't softened at all, and you look at him with wide eyes.

"You're—"

"I know." His voice is rough, almost apologetic again. "I'm sorry, I just… I always… I can usually go again, right away, and I—"

You think that this is what gets you. He's capable of being absolutely filthy and obscene and yet, at the end of the day he's the same silly guy who can't talk to women. He never really learned to be a self-absorbed jackass.

"Then do it."

He stares at you. "You just came. You're probably sensitive."

"I am sensitive." You shift on him, just slightly, and the sensation of his still-hard cock moving inside your oversensitive, cum-filled cunt makes you gasp. "I'm so fucking sensitive I can barely breathe. But I want more. I want you to use me."

His eyes go dark. "Use you?"

"Fuck me again." You're pleading now, desperate, the remnants of alcohol and the orgasm making you bold. "Fuck me until I can't walk. Fill me up so full I drip for days. I want to sit while I work tomorrow and feel you soaking through my panties. I want to remember this every time I move."

His expression cracks open, almost pained. "Fuck, baby. You can't say shit like that."

"I just did." You clench around him deliberately, and Seungcheol groans. "Now move."

He does.

He flips you in one smooth motion, laying you back against the couch cushions and looming over you, and he doesn't even pull out—just starts thrusting again, deep and hard, and you squeal.

It's too much. It's so much. You're oversensitive, still clenching from your orgasm, and every thrust sends sparks through your whole body. You can feel his cum inside you, feel it slicking the way, feel it dripping out of you with every stroke, can imagine it forming a ring of white around Seungcheol's shaft, and the obscenity of it—the sheer filth of it—has you moaning uncontrollably.

"Look at you." His voice is strained, wrecked. "Look at you taking my cock again, still full of me. You're so fucking perfect. This cunt was made for me."

"Yes—yes—"

"So tight. So wet. I can feel my own cum inside you, baby, I can feel it slicking us both up." He drives deeper, somehow deeper, and you keen.

"You're so messy. Such a messy little cunt, dripping with me, and I'm going to keep filling you up until you can't hold any more."

"Cheol—"

"I'm going to fuck you until it's all you can think about." His hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, and you jolt. "Until you're walking around with my seed dripping down your thighs and all you can remember is my cock stretching you open."

You're going to crash again. You can feel it building, impossibly fast, your oversensitive body hurtling toward another climax.

"That's it." He's watching your face, reading every expression. "That's it, baby, come for me again. Cum on my cock while you're still full. I want to feel you squeeze it out of me."

The dirty talk, the pressure on your clit, the feeling of him so deep inside you—it all crashes together and you shatter again, coming with a scream that you barely recognize as your own. Your body clenches around him violently, rhythmically, and he groans and slams into you, holding himself deep as he spills again.

You feel it. Feel the hot spurts of him filling you again, even fuller than before, and there's so much that it's overflowing, dripping out around him and down your ass, soaking the couch cushions beneath you. He keeps going, keeps pumping into you, and you keep clenching, riding out wave after wave until you're both shaking and spent.

He collapses on top of you, barely holding his weight on his elbows, and you lie there together, breathing harshly, hearts pounding.

"Holy shit," you whisper.

"Yeah," his voice is muffled against your neck, lips pressing soft kisses that melt your brain. "Yeah. Holy shit."

You lie there for a long moment, just breathing.

You can feel him finally softening inside you, can feel the mess between your legs—so much cum that it's still leaking out, warm and wet against your skin.

"I meant it," you murmur. "What I said. I want to feel this tomorrow."

He lifts his head, looking at you with those big dark eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You reach up, touch his face. "I want to sit at my desk and think about it dripping out of me." You're not sure if you're saying it because you're still intoxicated or just riding the ecstatic high of your orgasm. You don't even know if you're gonna mean it in the morning. But right now? Yeah, you do mean it.

Seungcheol chuckles, a little incredulous, and kisses you soft and sweet, so in contrast to what just happened. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."

You raise an eyebrow. "Again?"

A small, smug smile stretches his lips. "Give me ten minutes."

You laugh, and then wince as the movement shifts him inside you. "I'm going to need more than ten minutes. I'm going to need a proper nap. I can barely feel my legs."

"That's the goal." He kisses your nose, your forehead, your eyelids. "Can't walk. Can't think. Just full of my cum and remembering exactly who put it there."

You feel your cheeks heat up when you actually process his words: "I really hate you."

He grins. "No you don't."

"No," you admit. "I really don't."

You close your eyes with a satisfied sigh and slowly feel your body getting heavy, limbs leaden and like your brain all too heavy at once. You haven't felt so tired in a while. Somewhere in the back of your mind you think you should get up. Go (more like crawl) to your room and process what just happened and figure out what this means for your living situation. Instead you stay there, curled against his chest, his softening cock still inside you, and you fall asleep to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.

it all started when you thought to yourself how good of an idea it would be to prank your boyfriend after he got home from work.

"welcome home, coups." you greet seungcheol at the door, pecking his cheek as you take his things from his arms. he looks tired, but offers a cute smile to you anyways, pulling you in for a greedy kiss as he huffs afterwards.

seungcheol doesn't even seem to notice you're calling him by his stage name, and so you just smile, prancing off into the living room as he trudges behind you.

he finds a seat in the kitchen, sleepily climbing on top of a stool as he lets his head hit the counter. "rough day?" you question him, and he nods, groaning as he runs his hands over his tired face.

"very rough. choreographing for a solo i had no intention of dancing to is the worst thing ever." seungcheol whines, and you chuckle, throwing your head back as you glance at him to gage his reaction.

"you're just being dramatic, s.coups. lighten up! you always deliver when the fans want it," you turn your back to him to prepare the stove for dinner, but you can feel his dark brown gaze hot on your back. oh, you're definitely paying attention now, you say to yourself.

sure enough, when you turn around to put the cutting board down on the countertop, seungcheol's glaring at you like you've said a curse word in front of a bunch of kindergarteners.

"what?" you question innocently, even going as far to cock your head to the side in faux confusion. seungcheol's eyebrows scrunch slightly before he shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair as he shrugs.

"thought i heard you say something." he mumbles, annoyingly digging his phone from his pocket as the buzz of a phone call sounds off.

"not now, please," he says aloud, powering off the device before smacking it against the counter face-down. his head is on the marble again, cheek smudged against the surface as he glances up at you with those puppy dog eyes.

"what are you making, baby? already smells so good," seungcheol groans like a little baby, making you giggle as you throw the chopped vegetables into a bowl.

"some recipe i found on the internet." you reply, turning your back to him to put the vegetables in the pan and fry them in butter. "hey, coups, will you hand me the shredded cheese out of the fridge?"

the chair pauses mid-scrape just seconds after your question is posed, and seungcheol's burning holes through your head with his intent gaze. you turn around to meet him, feigning confusion once again as you speak. "what's wrong?"

"you keep calling me that." seungcheol says, and you laugh, shaking your head at him as if you're clueless. "calling you what? what are you talking about?"

"you've called me 'coups' twice now. you never do that." seungcheol says, dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his plump lips turn up in a pout.

"you're being silly. i haven't called you that at all! are you hearing things?" you combat his claims just as quickly as he brings t]hem up, and he just glances at you, silently fulfilling your request as he plops the bag of cheese next to the stove.

"thanks, s.coups." you peck his cheek, and he freezes in place, eyes widening just a fraction as he realizes what you've said.

"see! you just called me s.coups!" seungcheol points to himself, and you stare blankly at him, silent as he stares at you accusingly. he's towering over you now, not only tired and grumpy from his tiring work day, but now your constant 'slip-ups'.

"why are you calling me that? you know that's my stage name. when i'm off the clock, you know i want you to call me cheol. seungcheol, even. i just..." seungcheol trails off, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as he mumbles.

"i want you to call me by my real name. when i'm home, i'm yours. not carats, or anyone else's. just—just yours."

that makes your heart soften instantly, and you set your spatula down, taking seungcheol in for an embrace as you smile. "okay. i'm sorry for pranking you."

"it's okay, baby, i—" seungcheol pauses mid-sentence when he registers your words, and you can't help but laugh aloud at his reaction. "what? prank?"

"yeah! i thought i would prank you once you got home from work, and so i decided to call you by your stage name until you realized it." you explain, and seungcheol rolls his eyes, a small smile escaping nevertheless as he scrunches his face up at you.

"you little devil," he lowly teases, and you shrug pridefully, glancing over at him as you nod. "what can i say? you're all cute when you start confessing to me."

"god, ignore...ignore what i said earlier. if i knew you were pranking me, i would've—" seungcheol starts, and you stop him, stuffing hot vegetables into his mouth as he chews hurriedly.

"save it, cheol." you tease, gloating in the way his cheeks heat up so easily at the simple nickname. "we both know how soft you get when i call you by your full name."

"i hate you." seungcheol grumbles with a smile on his face as he kisses your neck, and you smile proudly, stirring the vegetables as his arms find their way around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder as you nod. "i love you too, seungcheol."

"okay, stop calling me that." seungcheol says, and you oblige for a second, more than ready to carry on the teasing. "right, s.coups. sorry."

"...never mind." the words are so quiet you can barely hear them, but you know seungcheol's blushing now, lips curving into a small smirk on your skin as he huffs a sigh. "i like seungcheol ten times better."

Sighing you put down your drink. It's still early, you should go home and try to catch up on the much needed sleep. You really had no intention of grabbing a drink tonight; you have morning classes tomorrow but you made a last moment decision to stop for a drink on your way back home. You didn't take your usual route to home today, and while trudging through the streets tiredly you came across this bar called Seventeen's. You've heard stories about this place, how it is the home to local gangs and how it's bad people's turf and what not. Your curiosity, probably too much of that made you get inside for a drink even though all the bones in your body ached. The inside is what you expected, nowhere near fancy but dingy, just decent enough. The people inside didn't look friendly and if the chains and tattoos on them gave any indication you'd say the rumours are true; this is the turf of gangs. The drinks taste decent, not the best but not the worst and from the overall look of this place you don't really have a reason to come back.

You're about to stand up from your stool when a large, clammy hand grabs your wrist out of nowhere, making you jump. "Hey sexy, sit down. Let me buy you a drink," the owner of the hand, a large, tattooed middle aged man slurs making your nose scrunch out of disgust. You're wearing nothing that can be called sexy; a plain cardigan and jeans and the way he looks you up and down makes you want to poke his eyes out.

You really shouldn't have come here. Clenching your jaw, you meet his eyes, "What makes you think I'm interested to have a drink with you?"

"Oh come on, why would you be here then, lookin' all nice? Just sit down," the man drawls, an ugly smile on his face. He still hasn't let go of your wrist and it's making you impatient. Looks like you're gonna have to kick his balls tonight. Maybe the self defense classes didn't completely go to waste.

"Get your disgusting hands off me while I'm being nice, sleazeball," you hiss at him, trying to get his hand off. The man stands up growling, "What did you say you bitch?" You're preparing to break his nose when out of nowhere a punch lands on his face that sends him tumbling to the ground. The attacker gets on top of him and twists his arm and you can literally hear a bone snap.

Shit.

"I think she said she is not interested," the man hisses, landing yet another another hit on his face before kicking his groin and getting up. When he turns around and his eyes meet yours, your heart skips a few beats and you almost The man is drop dead gorgeous, someone you would not expect to see here but probably on the cover of a high end magazine. His blond hair is long, crossing the nape of his neck as well as some covering his forehead. What takes your breath away the most is his eyes, the most beautiful pair you've ever seen. They seem to have their own galaxies in them, so deep and mesmerising and decorated with lashes long enough to make you jealous. His dress up, black jacket and jeans, immediately tells you what he is; a gang member.

"You should get home, lady," He speaks in a no nonsense tone, his face cold as ice. But you're offended. "Excuse me? Who are you calling lady? You make it sound like I'm old." You puff your cheeks and cross your arms, trying to appear intimidating. "Besides I had the situation under control, you didn't need to butt in." The man keeps looking at you with that no nonsense look, his features displaying annoyance if you are right and he's clearly not intimidated. The dude on the floor grunts and makes an effort to get up, only to be kicked by your saviour once more. "Hey Mingyu, get him out of here. What was this piece of trash doing here anyway?" The man orders to someone before turning to look at you, "Do you live far?"

"Uh- no, a ten minutes walk from here maybe," you reply unsurely, surprised at his question. The blond haired man nods before grabbing your wrist, "I'll walk you home. Hurry up, lady." You have a feeling he's purposely calling you that and though you start following him out of the bar, you make grunts of protest.

"Oh yeah, why? Trying to find out my address? So you can come later and hurt me like that guy?" You would not be this brazen if it wasn't for the alcohol in your system, after all the man next you isn't a friendly one if the rumours are true. The man raises a brow at you, "Did you do something that requires me to beat you up?" You hiccup at his serious tone. Does he not get a joke? He lets go of your hand now that you're at a safe distance from the bar but still stays close enough to you as your steps are rather stumbling and messy. You aren't fully drunk but your body is tired and feels like will shut down any second.

You really need some sleep.

"You know I'm not that drunk. You don't have to walk me home." You complain. "I'm walking you home because this isn't a nice place you should be alone at night. What happened earlier could happen again." He says not looking at you. "Mhmm," you keep on trudging behind him, "Thank you so much for your kind gesture, sir." You mock him but he doesn't reply, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring you as he walks quietly. In silence you two walk the rest of the path, before finally stopping as your apartment comes into view. At this point it feels like your bones will break and you will plop down on the concrete any second, but you manage to keep standing. "Well, thanks for walking me home." You shift your weight from one foot to another. "And for helping me back there." He shrugs coolly, a bored expression on his face. He's turning to walk away when you call, "Hey- I didn't get your name."

"What do you need it for?" He side glances at you. You shrug, "I don't know. You helped me so I thought it'd be nice to know your name." "You don't need to. Go inside, lady." He says, his tone final and starts marching away. You wait a couple moments before yelling, "Asshole!" and quickly rushing inside your building, partly afraid he's gonna come back.

You won't be surprised if you get killed tonight.

-

"So you are telling me Choi Seungcheol walked you home?" Katelyn screams in your ear, jolting up from her seat, earning glares from other people at the library in the process. "That's his name?" You whisper-yell, grabbing her hand to pull her back down. "I'm guessing from the blond hair you said," Katelyn shrugs. "Uh huh." You mean back in your chair, "He was hot though."

"Is that seriously all you have to say?" Katelyn whines exasperatedly. "No, I mean, if it wasn't for the way he dresses or talks I would have thought he's a model or something." You murmur.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Katelyn questions. "Hell no!" You frown. "He saved me from that creepy old dude. I was surprised too. I wish I didn't drink so much, I could have gotten a better look at his face," you sigh. "Seriously?" Katelyn raises a brow at you.

"Girl, you should have seen him. His aura and the way he carried himself was...so hot." You grin to yourself. Katelyn watches you like you've grown two heads. "Are you trying to tell me you have a crush on that gangster?" You smile sheepishly, "Maybe, I mean it's harmless. He was broody yet charming and I'm a girl so.... Also, it's not like he likes me too and is gonna come running whenever I ask him to bang me." You mutter.

"Oh he's gonna break your bones and bang your skull against a wall. That's what he's gonna do."

"Come on! Maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe the rumours are just rumours. Maybe he just looks intimidating and dresses up like that and people thinks he's a gangster." "Really? His name is on every bad thing that happens around here. From illegal racing to murders. Do you know that people say he has killed too?" "Like I said, rumours," you shrug being your stubborn self. Katelyn holds her hands up in surrender, "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're alive so let's just put this behind us, shall we?" You don't reply but wiggle your brows at her, a conspirational look on your face. "Oh no, don't look at me like that," Katelyn warns. "Let's go to that bar tonight. Please?" You give her your best puppy eyes. "What are you? Fucking crazy? You wanna get killed?" She whisper-yells, scowling at you. "No. I just wanna take another look at him. Without the alcohol in my system you know. Besides, the place isn't that bad." You reply.

"Well then get killed by yourself. I'm not coming with you."

"I'll help you with your papers for the rest of the semester."

"Shit."

-

"Well, looks like your wish won't be coming true," Katelyn muses chugging down her fourth glass as you keep playing with your first one. It's nearing an hour since you've come to the bar and there has been no sign of the man you desperately seek. The place is exactly like it was the other day, filled with people who you wouldn't want to mess with.

Yet here you are.

"Let's call it a night," Katelyn sighs. "We're just wasting our time." You know that too but you don't want to leave; not just yet. You are well aware that this is just pathetic but you've this crazy urge to see that man once again. You don't know why you feel this way; you never felt like this before. Why are thinking yourself to death about a complete stranger? Has some kind of spell been casted on you?

"Yeah, let's get going," you murmur half heartedly. You help your friend stand up as she's a little wobbly on her feet and together you make your way through the door. "Should we call a cab?" You ask Katelyn. She shakes her head no and you nod, you arms wrapped around hers to support her in case she looses her balance. You start stepping away from the bar and towards the road to her place until a noise from behind makes you stop in your tracks.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, whipping your head behind. There's no one around and the street is mostly dark other than the light flashing from the name of the bar. You hear the sound once again and this time you can locate where it's coming from. There's an abandoned playground at the back of the bar and you've a feeling that's the source.

Katelyn hisses as she sees you step towards there. "What are you doing!"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Yes I did. That's why I say we leave!" You ignore her and cautiously keep on stepping forward, mentally cursing yourself for wearing heels. Katelyn follows behind you murmuring all kinds of warnings. "You know curiosity killed the cat, right?" She whispers.

You roll your eyes, "Well I'm not a cat. Just- be quiet. It can be nothing." You both move past the bar gingerly and towards the playground at the back. There are old gallons of oil and abandoned materials just around the corner and you two quickly hide among them. It takes you a while to get adjusted to the low light after you poke your head up from the hiding spot.

You're eyes fix on him immediately. His blond hair makes him easily recognisable amid the darkness. There is a few more people around him, all kicking something in the ground. Not something, but someone. The man lying on the ground groans in pain and you realize this is what you both heard. "Shit," You hear Katelyn curse from beside you. "We need to get going." Instead of replying, you keep your eyes trained on the scene unfolding, holding your breath. You're tranced. Seungcheol lands continuous punched on the guy laying below him and after a moment his writhing frame seems to stop moving as it falls limp.

Fuck.

"You know in movies this is the part where people get caught." Katelyn whispers, her voice hoarse and her hand clutching yours in a tugging motion. "Uh-huh. But I can't seem to move. I wonder if he's... really dead." You whisper back. "Are you fucking crazy!" She hisses. "You wanna witness murder?"

Before you can reply you hear a sound that echoes through the empty field and it takes a second for you two to realise that it came from any one of you two. You don't have the time to figure out who made it as you both are crawling away from the playground without looking back, head crouched low to avoid being seen. You don't know if they heard that or if they're coming behind you, you both just keep scrambling, moving until you're past the corner. As soon as possible you both get on your feet and run like the grim reaper is chasing you, stopping only when you are far enough from the bar.

"I am never listening to you again!" Katelyn yells.

-

It's been a good few days since your near death experience and you somehow find yourself in front of that bar once again. You and Katelyn have not brought up that incident after that night. You made yourself believe that it was over and came to a conclusion that it is better to forget that man and leave all of it behind, no matter how much your heart disagreed. But it's easier said than done; you may not mention him out loud but in the back of your mind you think of him. He's like a ghost, haunting you all the time, plagueing your thoughts when you go to bed at night. It felt like he was ever existent and there was an itch in your heart that drove you insane.

Maybe that's why your subconscious brought you here, in front of Seventeen's, once again. You were on your way back home from library and you thought you took your usual route, until you realized you were standing in front of that place. But what is even terrifying is that the man haunting your mind stands in front of the entrance of the bar and you blink a few times to make sure you are not hallucinating. He's leaned against the entrance door, cigarette between his lips and from his pocket he fetches a lighter to light the poison in his mouth.

Damn, lighting up a cigarette never looked this sexy.

He hasn't seen you yet and you contemplate running the other way. That's the sensible thing to do but you, not being a sensible person, start walking towards him. Your footsteps make him look up and notice you and like the last time, there is no expression on his face. It's the same bored yet handsome face except now in daylight you can take a better look at him and this time, you notice a little mole on the left of his face, by his nose. Realising he's gonna stay silent you decide to speak, "Hi... It's me... Do you remember me?" Wow. That's such an intelligent thing to ask.

With the monotoned yet serious expression on his face, he goes, "Why won't I? I don't have Alzheimer's."

So he can joke.

You laugh, an awkward, probably exaggerated laugh. "What are you doing here? Did you not learn your lesson last time?" He cuts to the chase, his voice brassy and deep, almost threatening. You want to roll your eyes. "Who are you to say? I can be wherever I want whenever I want, thank you very much." "Well then, have fun getting in trouble like last time." He's nonchalant as he blows a smoke right past you and stands up straight, turning away. "Wait!" You almost grab his hand, desperate to stop him.

What is wrong with you? Your subconscious slaps her forehead. What are you holding him back for? To say 'hello sir, I think you're hot, can you please put your dick inside me'? Seungcheol turns his head back, his eyebrow cocked up.

Why do you find everything about him so attractive?

"Um...I know your name, Seungcheol." You speak, trying to sound intimidating, like knowing his name gives you some power over him. There's something definitely wrong with you which is why you don't want him to leave just yet and which is why you're stalling time. But it seems to have done the job as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and turns towards you, an annoyed look on his face. "How do you know that?" The timbre of his tone is deep and it rakes shivers down your spine. "Well, you've built quite a reputation for yourself so it isn't hard to get your name." You shrug coolly. "Well, if you know so much about my reputation, you should know what I'm capable of." His lone is low, almost threating as he starts to take slow steps towards you making you step back out of reflex.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you will also end up like the curious cat.

"Oh yes, I know. People have got a lot to say about you," you try to sound unfazed, not meeting his eyes that you feel are burning holes on your face. "What are you doing here, lady?" he asks slowly, pausing between each word and glaring at you as he continues to step forward. You can feel his patience thinning.

"I swear to God if you call me that-"

"What are you doing here?" This time his tone is scary, too scary. It makes you lose the ability to speak for a second as his dark gaze bores into you. He has backed you up against the wall behind you and you swallow. Right, what are you doing here? It probably has something to do with a very hot individual and his insanely attractive aura. Scratch that you are a hundred percent sure it has something to do with the blond haired, enticing man in front of you. He's driving you mad and you need to get your fill of him.

"Go out with me," you state and you are sure you've never spoken words more stupid than that. Internally, you cringe and pray that the ground below you would open and take you straight to the fiery pits.

This is the first time you see some sort of expression come across his face; surprise. He looks utterly shocked and somewhat confused. His mouth opens just a little and he squints at you, "What?"

There's no going back now.

"Go out with me. Let's go on three dates." you say once more, looking him in the eye. He seems to appear even more surprised, a dumbstruck look sitting on his face. He observes you quietly for a while and you can feel the gears in his head shifting. You wonder what he's gonna say next. Or maybe he won't say anything but bang your head on the wall and leave you to die alone. "I'm sorry I'm not following," he looks genuinely perplexed. "I want to go on three dates with you. They say after three dates you can figure out whether you like that person or not and I think I like you so..."

I think I like you.

The biggest understatement of the year.

Seungcheol tilts his head, an amused expression on his face as he studies you, those sharp eyes of his settling on yours, "What is your deal, sweetheart?" He crosses his arms, a brow raised. Sweetheart? That's new. And definitely better than lady. You can't deny how hearing him call you that makes your insides melt. "Nothing. I just want to date you," you shrug, trying to keep your wits together. His proximity is driving you wild; you can sniff a faint smell of cologne and cigarette, him being inches away from you. This time he laughs loudly, a mocking laugh you'd say. "Who sent you?"

Oh my god.

You roll your eyes. "Nobody sent me! Do I look like I'm a gang member or something?" "Then I don't see a reason why you'd want to date me," He states, throwing a challenging look at you.

"What if I said I have a thing for bad boys?"

He snorts. "You don't look the type to date bad boys," he mocks. "Who are you to say that?" You cross your arms. "I want to date you because I think you're hot, okay?" You can not believe you just said that. Looks like you don't have control over your mouth anymore. Warmth spreads throughout your face like a forest fire.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes on you, his tongue poking his cheek as he stands in front of you as if trying to read your mind. After a beat he sighs before looking at you, his eyes becoming darker than usual and his gaze unforgiving. "Hey. Does it look like I'm playing house here? Do you have any idea about the shit I do? The dirty work I do? I don't care if you have a fucking fetish or whatever but this is the last time I'm warning you. I don't want to see you around again. If I see you here once more, you're in fucking trouble," he spits and starts stomping away. His tone is serious and you know very well he is not joking, which is why you use your last resort. You're embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate but at the same time you feel shameless. It has almost turned into a game at this point, you want to make him surrender. That's right, you want him to give in. "You shouldn't be like that with me. I saw you, a few days ago. That night, when you and your friends were beating up that guy...in the playground," you casually stroll to come stand right behind him.

You can't believe you are blackmailing a gangster. Your death must be near.

Seungcheol whips his head back, his eyes glaring at you and you can almost see fire in them. Finally, you got his attention.

"My friend also saw it, we both did. You killed him, didn't you? Me and my friend witnessed a murder. What do you say? Should we go to the station?" You can see his jaw clench and you can't hold back a victorious smirk. Moments pass by as your words hang in the air and the tension between you gets thicker. Yet once more he surprises you, breaking the silence with a chuckle, "Well I killed one person, what makes you think I can't take care of another?"

You swallow.

"Well, my friend already knows so if I go missing you can be sure that the cops will come to you first." You throw back at him.

When did you get so wreckless?

Seungcheol stares at you for a few more seconds before shrugging and moving his hand dismissively, "Well then go tell the cops. I don't give a shit." He starts walking back to the bar leaving you starstruck. He stops and turns towards you before opening the door, "Also, I meant it. I hope I don't see you around. Otherwise I may just have to hurt that pretty face."

-

You don't show up after that.

Mostly because you are embarasssed.

It's been a good while after your last encounter with Seungcheol and you didn't go to the police, obviously. Because you don't have evidence and from what you've heard Seungcheol is pretty influential around here and you don't need to go to an extent to get on his bad side. You're definitely gonna end up dead if you do so, which you don't want just yet.

Classes have just finished and you and Katelyn step out of the classroom together, walking through the hallways and into the main campus. She rambles on about some bad sushi she ate yesterday while your mind remains preoccupied. Maybe you need to get laid. Maybe that'll make you forget about Seungcheol. You just need good dick that's probably why you were so desperate for him.

That's just a stupid lie.

You don't realise Katelyn is calling you until she shakes you by the shoulder and you snap back into reality. You notice her face is as pale as a ghost and following her line of sight your eyes stop on him.

Him. Seungcheol.

What?

You double take, blinking furiously to confirm your vision. He's standing there, in the parking area of your uni, leaned against a convertible Ferrari, a cigarette between his lips. He looks relaxed, like he does this regularly. Students whisper in each others ear while gawking at him curiously. "What did you do!" Katelyn yells. "Nothing!" You hiss back.

"Then why is he here!"

"I don't know!"

Your eyes meet with Seungcheol's and a smirk spreads across his face making you shiver. He stands up straight and tilts his head, an indication for you to come closer to him. "Fuck, he's here for me," you mumble. "Of course he's here for you, dumbass," Katelyn snaps. "Well, if I don't return, you know who killed me." You sigh starting to walk towards him. "Wait- you're going with him?" She asks incredulously.

"Don't worry. I'll keep my phone on. I don't think he's gonna murder me, I mean there are so many witnesses." You inhale deeply, leaving behind a lost looking Katelyn.

Seungcheol says nothing as you stand right in front of him raising an inquisitive brow but he only holds open the door for you to get in. Deciding to follow him you enter the car quietly and a wave of gasps go through the crowd.

There's gonna be talk about this tomorrow.

Seungcheol, still smirking victoriously for some reason rounds the car and gets inside and within seconds you're hitting the road. There's a thick silence for a while, which feels like ages to you. You're overwhelmed, bewildered to say anything; your poor brain still processing what is happening. You're nervous, jittery as you fiddle with you bag and look out on your side, for some reason scared to look at him.

What if he really kills you? He wouldn't, right?

"You're awfully quiet," Seungcheol says matter of factly as he spares you a glance while driving.

"I'm... processing."

"What are you, a robot?"

"Why are you doing this?" You question instead.

"Doing what?"

"Okay, you know very well what I mean. Why are you picking me up from uni all of a sudden? How do you even know I'm a student there?" "I have resources and...you didn't protest at all. You came along nicely," Seungcheol raised a brow at you, a cocky smile on his lips. You don't answer but continue to stare at him, trying to pin him down with your gaze. He finally sighs and pulls the car to a stop by the side of the road, the sudden brake making you slightly jerk in your seat. "I've decided to give you those 3 dates. That's why," He is calm, unreadable and you wonder if this is a prank. Then again, he has no reason to prank you, does he? "Really?" Your voice comes out breathy. "Yes. I thought I'd give you a taste of how it feels to be with someone like me. I can scare people without physically hurting them you know," He says in a menacing tone.

"So what? You're taking me to an underground fight or something?" You question. "Nah, we're keeping it simple today." He smirks as he starts the car again and turns on the radio, an indication that he doesn't want to converse anymore.

Shamelessly you take a good look at Seungcheol; he's dressed in another jacket today paired with a black tee underneath. Today, you notice he has upped his accessory game, his fingers full of rings and chains dangling from his neck. But what catches your attention is a tattoo, something like a dragon and words written in a language you don't understand, peeking from underneath his sleeve. You almost ask about it but decide it'll probably be too much and he wouldn't answer you anyway.

As you do so, in the back of your mind you think you should have dressed better, something cuter, more appropriate for a date rather than a plain blouse and jeans. But then again who knew Choi Seungcheol was gonna show up out of the blue. You're gnawing at your lower lip, lost in your thoughts when the car is pulled to a halt and you realize your ride is over. You're parked in front of a diner called Lacy's and from the vibe that the place is giving, you can tell that this is place where people like him hang out. You raise a questioning brow at Seungcheol who says, "I know it doesn't look fancy but trust me I has some of the best food I've ever eaten." Taking his words for now you quickly type out a text to Katelyn letting her know you're in one piece and get out of the car.

Once you're seated you look around the place which is relatively empty except some men playing pool at the far end. You watch Seungcheol who has gone to the reception booth to place your orders; his posture relaxed as he leans against the counter and talks to the girl standing there. They seem to know each other because their chat takes longer than it should and the girl has a shy, almost flirty smile on her face.

He probably fucks her.

You shake the thought off your head as the gangster comes back and sits in front of you. There's silence for a second as you wonder if you should just ask the questions that run free around your mind. "Are the rumours true?" You blurt out. He's raises a brow.

"About you. You know..."

"Do you want them to be true?" He asks back. "I don't...know," you reply. "Well, I think it depends on each person. If you want it to be true it is true, if you don't it isn't," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you just give me a straight answer?" you snap. He smirks as if he's having fun but doesn't reply, watching you with his arms crossed. You roll your your eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. "You know, I haven't seen one like you. Willingly hanging out with dangerous people, going to dangerous places. You say you saw me kill someone yet you're here. You're almost desperate to get in trouble," he observes. "I'm not desperate to get in trouble. I just...I'm just- attracted to you alright?" This is so embarrassing. You need to shut your mouth. "You've been on my mind ever since that night. I wanna see exactly how deep I'm into you." You bite your lip.

That's enough. You will boost his ego through the roof like this.

Seungcheol studies you for a bit before grinning cockily, "Well, if you didn't know, I am trouble baby. Just you being with me might end you up in a mess." Before you can reply, your food is served, that same girl from the booth setting down your plates and looking at Seungcheol for a bit too long with that same stupid smile which he returns. You don't know why but you feel jealous, jealous of whatever these two share, whatever she has with him.

You've lost your mind at this point. You're on a high that is Seungcheol. He has made you forget your morals, made you completely lose your mind. Or maybe you've been too good all your life and seeing him brought out that crazy, thrill seeking part of yourself.

Silently you dig into your food and as Seungcheol said, the food is really good. This is one of the best meatloaf you've ever had and you can't help but moan. Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile before popping a fry in his mouth.

"What's your major?" Seungcheol asks out of the blue.

"Uh- sociology."

"Mmhmm."

You're about to ask him what he studied in college but you assume he probably never went to one so you seal your lips. You wonder what his background is and who his parents are but you don't want to get too personal on the first day. So you ask something else, "How old are you?" He laughs out loud before he deadpans, "Thirty five." "What!" You almost choke.

There's no way he's-

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I... I don't know! A few years older than me? You're kidding right? You don't look thirty five." He has to be bluffing. "And how old would you be?" "You shouldn't ask a woman her age," you try to make a point. "Don't you have any manners?" He smirks,"I don't, sweetheart. To answer your question, I'm twenty eight."

Uh huh.

"Well, I'm twenty one," you mutter under your breath. You don't know if he hears it because he doesn't give any reaction, busy twirling a fry in sauce. The rest of your meal is full of silence as you wonder if your date will end like this; dry and boring. He's awfully silent and seems to be lost in thoughts as he doesn't engage in a conversation. You're about to take your last bite when the silence is broken by him.

"What did you see that night?" He leans over, his elbows resting on the table as he suddenly regards you with a sombre look, his earlier cockiness vanished. His eyes have once again gone dark and his demeanor says he's not being superficial right now. You're caught off guard as you cough loudly, reaching for your glass to take a sip of water. "What?"

"You heard me. What did you see that night? Exactly how much did you see?" He repeats. You're confused. You thought he didn't care about it. He said it didn't matter. So why is he bringing it up now? You've worked hard to push that night in the deepest part of your brain, pretending it didn't happen.

And then suddenly it clicks.

"You!" You point an accusatory finger at him as you catch on to his plan. "You've agreed to go out with me so that you can find out what I saw that night!" Seungcheol groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, just fucking tell me!" He snaps, annoyed that you've found out his little scheme. You scoff, "I thought you said you didn't care? Besides it's not like I'm going to tell the police." He rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "Just tell me and let me go."

You're baffled. His actions didn't make any sense and you actually thought he had no other intentions behind dating you but holy shit this sneaky bastard. "You sly little asshole!" You hiss at him. "Call me that once more and you'll regret it." He threatens. You roll your eyes sagging back into your seat, "Whatever." Then an idea hits you. "You know what, I'll tell you exactly how much I saw that night." You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he stares intensely at you, waiting for your next words. "On our third date. When this whole deal is over, I'll tell you. But in return you'll have to keep your promise and take me out on two more dates."

"Oh fucking hell," he groans rubbing his face in frustration. His state makes you smirk and you feel accomplished.

Choi Seungcheol is stressed because of you.

What a day to be alive.

You murmur, "Besides this isn't even a proper date. This was more like an interrogation. But I'll go easy on you and won't make you redo this date." You give him a sweet smile and he sees red. You can literally see fury blaze in his eyes. "Whatever!" He yells and abruptly stands up. "I don't have time for this. Your stupid play date is over. I'm dropping you home."

Before you can reply, he's marching towards the door. You've to admit this wasn't the best date but at least you've trapped Choi Seungcheol.

-

It has been a good week after your so called date at the diner and you haven't heard from him. You expected him to call or text you since he was gracious enough to ask for your number but he didn't. You now realize it was a mistake to not get his number; you had asked him for his when he took yours but being the prick he is he denied to hand over his number to you. You should have forced him to, you sigh. As you sit in the library the ping of your mobile distracts you from your racing thoughts as you realize you have a message. Picking the device up you tap on the notification. Even though it was from an unknown number, you have no trouble figuring out who it is from. A smile graces your lips as you read the words over again.

I'll pick you up from your house tomorrow evening at six.

That's all it says and that is good enough to send a thrum of excitement throughout your body.

-

You have not held back in dressing up today and you realize it's been a long time since you've dolled up yourself. A long before the clock strikes 6 you are ready; dressed in a cute pastel top and a matching skirt. You've also went ahead and applied makeup, not too much but just enough to maybe catch his eye. Maybe.

You wonder what he has planned for today.

A text from Seungcheol saying he's here has you flying out of your apartment as fast as your feet can carry your desperate self to see him. He stands in front of your apartment with his convertible, dressed in a white jacket that matched his pants. You take a deep breath before walking towards him, trying to calm all your nerves down.

"You know I expected to hear from you earlier. I've been waiting all week," you voice makes his head turn around to meet your eyes as you are skipping towards him with a teasing smile in your face. "I've been busy," he shrugs coolly, his eyes going over your whole body, from your legs to your face. He doesn't hide that he's taking a good look at you, in fact does it unashamedly.

You wonder if he likes what he sees.

Someone dressed up today," he comments. "Too bad we aren't going to a place where you can show off your pretty clothes." You frown, "Where are we going?" Seungcheol holds open the door, a mischievous smile on his face. "I've decided to grant your wish." With a confused face you get inside the car, the gears in your head running. What does he mean?

"I'm taking you to an underground fighting ring," he says with smirk as he reaches for something behind his seat. He pulls out a large hoodie and tosses it towards you, "Put this on. Otherwise you are going to attract a lot of attention and you don't want that." You gulp, taking the hoodie and putting it on you. You're slightly embarrassed. You were so excited to try this outfit but it's not like you knew he was taking you to a fight club. Hell you would have dressed like a guy if you knew. You shrug on the hoodie and it falls almost to your knees but it's huge and comfy and most importantly it smells like him. There's a hint of cologne, nothing too strong; a subtle, expensive scent that makes you want to take a deeper sniff. You wonder if you can keep this with you.

Stop it, pervert.

Seungcheol's voice pulls you out of your haze, "You can take it off later. Just wear it until we're out of there," he says and brings the engine to life.

Then you actually think about it. Underground fighting ring? Holy shit. You were only kidding when you mentioned it. Admittedly, you're shocked, somewhat horrified. Everyone knows it isn't the best place to be at especially for someone like you who never had such an experience. Seungcheol must have seen your expression because the smile on his face gets bigger, "Why? You not up for it?" His voice is teasing.

He's challenging you.

Oh well.

"Of course I'm up for it," you square your shoulders, keeping your voice cool. "Bring it on."

-

Seungcheol leads you into a bar and then through a door at the back that leads down to a lot of stairs, reaching a place similar to an underground parking lot. Quietly you follow Seungcheol, staying as close to him as possible, your bodies occasionally touching. He leads you to a pair of double doors and from the other side you can hear men shouting and chanting.

This is it, I guess.

Seungcheol throws one more smile at you before pushing open the doors as you scramble to follow him closely. The sight that greets you something you only see in movies. There's a boxing ring where two people are throwing punches at each other and surrounding them from all sides is a wild, loud and excited crowd. They continue to cheer loudly as the two men in the ring continue to box and you hear their grunts and groans.

Holy shit.

Swallowing your eyes meet Seungcheol's who is regarding you with curiosity. "What do you think?" He has to speak loudly for you to hear over the screaming throng. "Uh... It's loud," you say dumbly as you try to think of a reply. But it's too loud for you to even think properly as you take in your unfamiliar surroundings. You see a tall man approaching towards you and out of reflex you shuffle closer to Seungcheol until you realize it's his friend. The guy from the first night. He and Seungcheol grin at each other, patting their backs as they talk close to each others ears. You gawk at them curiously and realize they must be talking about you because his friend takes curious glances at you occasionally. His friend is tall, really tall and well built but unlike his body his face is sweet and puppy like, almost cute. When he grins his canines pop up just like a puppy and you wonder if all his friends are good looking.

After he's done chatting with his friend Seungcheol pulls you close and says, "This is my friend. Mingyu. Always stay near him, you hear me? Don't stray away unless you wanna get hurt." His eyes are stern as he pins you down with his stare but you have other thoughts running in your head.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You yell over the noise.

He just smirks at you and starts taking his jacket off. "About time you see how we do it around here." His tone is cocky as he hands his jacket to you, "Hold this for me. And stay close to him."

Giving a look at Mingyu Seungcheol starts walking away towards a door that you're guessing is the changing room.

He's gonna fight.

"Wait- but-" Mingyu stops you with a hand on your shoulder and offers you a kind smile. "It's fine. Just stay with me." He then ushers you towards the crowd, spotting a place where you can get a good look at the ring. "Do you guys do this often?" You look up at Mingyu. He smiles sheepishly, "Not me. I tried a few times and I always end up beaten to a pulp. But hyung does this often, he's really good."

"Uh huh, I'm sure he is," you smile dryly. "This is your first time watching a fight, no?" "Definitely." He grins, "Watch carefully then. It's really fun."

You have your doubts on how watching people beat each other up can be fun but you don't comment anything, instead chew on your lip anxiously. Seungcheol really didn't have to go this far? What if he gets hurt badly? Is he trying to impress you?

Don't flatter yourself, your subconscious rolls her eyes.

As the loud cheering that had died down ensues again, your train of thoughts are halted as you see Seungcheol in shorts and his hands covered in boxing gloves, step into the ring. You can't help but ogle at his naked torso, his finely defined and chiseled muscles. He has the perfect body, not too bulky, not too lean just the right amount that gives you a hard time taking your eyes off him. He seems to have noticed your gaze because the second your eyes meet, he throws a haughty, knowing smirk at you. Embarrassed you avert your gaze elsewhere.

His opponent is a muscular man who's growling and banging his chest with his fists, a gesture of intimidation, you suppose. You are definitely intimidated and you wonder if Seungcheol can actually win against him.

The fight starts with a whistle and in mere seconds they are on to each other, throwing punches left and right. Your eyes have a hard time keeping up with them and their fast reflexes and your hands fly to your mouth as a punch lands on Seungcheol's face, followed by repeated blows as Seungcheol falls back. There's a moment of silence as he wipes his bottom lip and you realize there's a cut.