𝓇𝑒𝓎

the director had warned everyone beforehand.

“this scene is ugly,” he’d said, standing right in front of the monitors with a lukewarm coffee cupped between his palms. “if it doesn’t make me feel entirely uncomfortable, we’re doing the whole damn thing again.”

which was, all things considered, a completely normal thing to hear at eight o’clock on a freezing tuesday morning.

you had laughed, a small, breathless sound that got swallowed by the rustle of the crew moving equipment. seonghyeon had not. 

because unlike everyone else on the payroll, he’d already read the script seventeen times, pacing the floor of your shared flat until his socks wore thin, spending three whole days complaining about the dialogue.

“why does he say this to her?” he’d asked, pointing an accusing finger at the highlighted pages on the kitchen table.

“because he’s awful, hyeon,” you’d murmured, finishing preparing your shared açai bowl.

“but why is he so awful? there’s no justification for it. it’s just cruel.”

“because he’s the villain of the relationship. every story needs some friction.”

“i don’t like him,” he’d muttered, his lower lip pulling into a stubborn, childish pout that made you want to kiss him.

“you are him.”

“exactly. which means i am currently hating myself.”

and now here you both were—standing smack-bang in the middle of a fake apartment set that smelled faintly of fresh paint and stale timber. the red light on the camera was rolling. the overhead lights were glaring down, hot and unforgiving against the back of your neck, and your boyfriend of five years was looking across the space at you like he genuinely, thoroughly hated your guts which shouldn’t have affected you. you were a professional. you’d done this a dozen times before with a dozen different co-stars. except it did affect you; it was your first time acting out something so heavy with seonghyeon, of all people. 

it settled like lead in your stomach, because your boyfriend was annoyingly, devastatingly good at his job.

“action.”

☆

the argument had already been building for several scenes prior. months of accumulated resentment, heavy miscommunications, and quiet, festering hurt that had been left to rot in the dark. and now, in this cramped kitchen set, it finally exploded.

“you know what your problem is?” he snapped.

his voice wasn’t his voice anymore. the low, velvety cadence he used to whisper against your shoulder in the dead of night was entirely gone. it was sharper now. colder. a brittle, metallic sound that made the air in the room instantly drop by ten degrees. every single bit of warmth had been scrubbed clean from his features.

“you’re insecure.”

you stared at him, your hands curling into tight, helpless fists at your sides. the silence that followed was suffocating. it was the specific type of heavy, theatrical silence that made the entire crew on set forget to breathe, everyone freezing mid-motion.

“excuse me?” your voice came out like a rasp, barely carrying to the boom mic.

“everything has to be about you,” he said, and then he laughed. it wasn’t a nice laugh. it wasn’t that crinkly-eyed, breathless sound that usually filled your flat when you made a terrible joke. it was something ugly and mocking. “every single conversation we have. every minor disagreement. every little thing has to revolve around how it impacts you.”

your eyes began watering instantly. it wasn’t because you were genuinely upset—it was because you were acting. really acting, feeding off the terrifying hostility radiating from his posture. his shoulders were rigid, his jaw set so tightly you could see the muscle ticking beneath his skin.

“i supported you through everything,” you whispered, stepping back until your spine hit the edge of the prop counter. “every deal, every late night, every single breakdown.”

“supported me?” he scoffed, tilting his head back with a dark, humourless smirk. “you didn’t support me. you just made everything ten times harder than it needed to be.”

from the corner of your eye, you saw the boom operator visibly flinch, shifting his weight.

“harder?”

“you constantly need reassurance,” he said, closing the distance between you with slow, scary strides until he was towering over you, blocking out the studio lights. he leaned down slightly, his dark eyes entirely vacant of the boy who bought you pastries on sundays. “do you have any idea how exhausting that gets? it’s like pouring water into a bucket with a hole in the bottom.”

your jaw tightened, a genuine prickle of heat rising up your throat. “i asked you for honesty, yi-jin. that’s all i ever asked for.”

“you didn’t ask for honesty,” he hissed, his face inches from yours, his breath warm but his expression freezing. “you asked me to babysit your feelings. and frankly, i’m very fucking tired of being a parent to a grown woman.”

somewhere behind the black shroud of the monitors, the assistant director quietly whispered a thoroughly shaken, “shit, that was good.” because the chemistry between you two was terrifying. it wasn’t romantic anymore; it was just pure, unadulterated devastation. it was the sight of two people who knew exactly where the armor was weak, systematically destroying each other piece by piece.

the scene kept going, dragging out the agony. every line landed harder than the last, like physical blows in a ring. and then finally, just as the script demanded, your character completely broke.

“right.” your voice shook, the word cracking right down the middle. another long, agonizing pause. the tears were properly gathering now, blurring his harsh silhouette. “i think i finally understand it now.”

he said absolutely nothing, his arms crossing over his chest, his posture unyielding.

“you don’t actually love me,” the words came out so small, fragile enough to shatter if anyone moved too quickly. “you just love the feeling of being needed. you love the power of it. that’s it, isn’t it?”

the room went completely, utterly still. even the heavy cameras felt like they’d stopped whirring.

“and now that you don’t need me anymore…” you laughed once, a hollow, heartbroken sound that scraped against your ribs. “…i’ve just become a massive inconvenience to you.”

he swallowed. you saw his adam’s apple bob, a tiny, involuntary break in his composure, but his character stayed fiercely cold. “if that’s the ridiculous narrative you want to believe, go right ahead. see if i care.”

“no.” you stepped back, pulling yourself away from his space and shaking your head. “that’s not a narrative. that’s what you’ve spent the last six months showing me.” a heavy tear finally spilled over, tracking a hot line down your cheek. “and i deserve so much better than somebody who makes me feel this small.”

god, the director was practically falling out of his chair, leaning so far forward his nose was nearly touching the viewing screen.

“angel—” he started, reaching out a hand, his fingers twitching as if to grab your wrist.

“don’t.” you cut him off instantly, stepping entirely out of his reach. “don’t you dare call me that. you lost that right long ago.”

the nickname—the one his character had used throughout the entire script. the shattered, desperate look that crossed seonghyeon’s face in that exact split second nearly broke the remaining crew members.

“we’re done.”

with trembling fingers, you reached behind your neck, unlatching the silver necklace his character had given yours in the first act. you let it drop onto the wooden table with a sharp, metallic clink. then, without looking back at him, you walked straight out of the frame.

“cut.”

☆ 

nobody moved.

seriously, absolutely nobody moved a muscle. the entire room stayed frozen in place for three agonising seconds because somehow, you two had made a fake breakup feel like a real tragedy. 

the director just stared blankly at the monitor, his coffee long forgotten. the sound team stared intently at the floorboards. the makeup artist looked vaguely traumatised, clutching her powder puff like a weapon, and one of the production interns, juhoon, looked about two seconds away from an actual crying fit.

and then—“cut!” the director slammed his bound script shut against his knee. “that’s it! that’s the one!.”

everyone jumped. spontaneous cheers erupted from the back of the studio. applause rippled through the grips and gaffers. someone—probably james, your friend—near the fire exit actually shouted, “thank god!” because nobody wanted to sit through another take of that emotional warfare.

the absolute second the cameras stopped rolling, seonghyeon completely fell apart. “angel.”

you barely had time to wipe the wetness from your cheek before he was moving.

“angel, look at me.”

he was already crossing the set, his long legs eating up the distance between the prop sofa and the door.

“baby, please.”

“hyeon, wait, my mic—”

“absolutely not.”

he reached you in a second, his hands coming up to frantically grab your face. his palms were warm, a little damp with nerves.

he immediately leaned down to press a hard, lingering kiss to your forehead. then to the bridge of your nose. then your left cheek. the other cheek. your right temple. your chin. he was kissing everywhere except your actual lips, purely because his brain had short-circuited and he’d forgotten where basic human features lied.

“i’m so sorry,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick and entirely his own again.

“for what?” you laughed, though your ribs still felt a bit tight from the scene.

“everything. all of it.”

“you didn’t actually do anything, dumbass.”

“i called you insecure,” he insisted, his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your stage tears with fierce, trembling tenderness.

“your character called my character insecure.”

“same thing.”

“that is literally, by definition, not the same thing.”

he ignored you, pressing another desperate kiss to your forehead, his eyes dark with lingering guilt. “i hated it. i hated every single second of it.”

“you wrote four pages of notes in your script complaining about this specific scene, hyeon.”

“because it was mean! it was unnecessarily cruel to your character.”

“he’s supposed to be mean. he’s a terrible boyfriend.”

“well, i didn’t enjoy acting like one.”

you finally let out a proper, bubbling laugh, and the sound of it seemed to physically heal him. his broad shoulders immediately dropped an inch, the rigid tension melting out of his spine.

“there she is,” he breathed to himself, leaning his forehead against yours.

“you are so dramatic.”

“i’m entirely serious.” he slid his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo from your hair that was let down. “i would never say those things to you.”

“i know you wouldn’t, baby.”

“ever.”

“hyeon, i know.”

“not even if somebody paid me a million.”

“they are literally paying you to do it right now.”

“you know what i mean,” he mumbled into your skin.

around you, the crew—especially martin from props and keonho from lighting, who were straining their necks to lean closer to the set like they were listening to some neighbour’s juicy gossip—collectively pretended to be very busy with cables. it was difficult for them, though, considering seonghyeon had apparently decided the entire studio needed to hear him worship his girlfriend to compensate for the script.

“you’re not insecure at all,” he said, shifting to kiss the top of your head. “you’re one of the most brilliant, confident people i’ve ever met in my life.” another firm kiss.

“and you’re so clever.” kiss.

“and funny.” kiss.

“and ridiculously, unfairly pretty.”

“seonghyeon, stop it.” you could feel your cheeks flushing red under the heavy foundation.

“and so talented.”

“hyeon, please.”

“and kind.”

“seonghyeon.”

“and every single room feels completely different the moment you walk into it.”

“that doesn’t even make any sense.”

“it makes perfect sense to me.”

you groaned, lifting your hands to cover your burning face. he immediately caught your wrists, gently pulling your hands away so he could look at you. “don’t hide from me.”

“you’re embarrassing me to death.”

“good.”

“everyone is literally watching us.”

“excellent. let them look.”

“eom seonghyeon!”

he grinned, a shameless, bright thing that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“angel, i just spent four agonizing minutes pretending i didn’t love you with everything i have.” he squeezed your fingers tightly, lacing them with his own. “i need at least ten minutes of proper recovery time from that trauma.”

from somewhere behind the lighting rigs, one of the staff yelled out, “take twenty minutes if you need, bro!”

“thanks, man!” seonghyeon shouted back over his shoulder without breaking eye contact with you.

“no one asked you, james!” you shouted towards the rafters at the same time.

the entire set erupted into a loud, collective burst of laughter, breaking the final remnants of the heavy tension.

☆ 

later on, while the crew was packing away the heavy diffusers and winding up the thick black cables, you found him sitting alone in the dim corner beside the monitor, quietly rewatching the playback of the scene. his expression looked oddly miserable, his chin resting in his palm.

you slid into the canvas chair beside him, rubbing a hand over his knee. “you alright?”

he nodded slowly, then immediately shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. “i hate it.”

“because it’s a sad scene?”

“because you looked genuinely hurt,” he whispered, turning his head to look at you, his eyes full of that soft, yearning vulnerability that always made your heart ache. “i know it’s just the script. i know it’s acting. but for a split second, when the lights were up, it felt entirely real.”

your heart melted into a puddle right there on the dusty floor. “hyeon.”

“when you took off that necklace and said ‘we’re done’?” he looked down at his own lap, picking at a loose thread on his trousers. “i actually felt physically sick to my stomach.”

you leaned sideways, pressing your shoulder against his comfortingly. because there he was—the exact same boy who got incredibly clingy if you left him on read for more than twenty minutes while you went shopping alone. the same boy who texted you a string of incoherent emojis every morning before his eyes were even fully open. 

“well, it’s a very good thing i’m not breaking up with you in real life then, isn’t it?” you murmured.

“an excellent decision on your part.”

“is it really?” you teased. 

“absolutely.” he turned towards you, pressing a tiny, sweet kiss to your forehead. then another one right between your eyebrows. and another one on your temple. “because i’m keeping you forever. you’re stuck with me.”

“that sounds slightly threatening, pretty boy.”

“it’s romantically threatening.”

“that doesn’t make it any better, i think.”

“angel.”

“what?”

his smile softened, becoming small, private, and deeply fond—completely, thoroughly seonghyeon again, with no trace of the script left in him. “thank you for never making me audition for the role of your ex-boyfriend in real life.”

you stared at him for a beat, deadpan. “that might genuinely be the most cringe thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“and yet you’re still with me.”

“unfortunately for my reputation, i am.”

“see?” he beamed, his chest puffing out as he looked around the emptying studio. “she loves me.”

“somebody please remove this man from the set,” you said dryly to the empty audience. 

“she absolutely loves me!”

“security!”

“the love of my life loves me!”

and somehow, despite the fact that he’d spent the entire morning making an entire film crew weep into their coffee cups, he ended the day exactly the way he always did—making you laugh until your stomach hurt.

© hyuneskkami ❦

JAMES

JUHOON

SEONGHYEON

KEONHO

These days though, he hadn't been talking to you as much as he used to and it really bugged you but you decided to just let it be as you didn't want to come off as an overthinking weirdo.

He was looking at you with a hard look and you were immediately able to tell what the problem was. He's jealous.

You raised an eyebrow at him and he did the same, squinting his eyes a little to show his annoyance.

He already knew Keonho was your friend so you didn't really understand the problem. And him ignoring you made the situation even worse.

You decided to just let this go until he decided to be mature enough to talk to you again. After all, you never did anything wrong.

After turning your head and averting your attention back to keonho and your friends, you heard the classroom door being closed shut.

He left.

You wanted to follow him, really bad. But as soon as you were about to get up your teacher came in which immediately made you sit back down.

“I'll find him later.” you quietly said, only for you to hear.

જ⁀➴

The school day was now over and you hadn't seen seonghyeon anywhere since what happened during lunch.

Students were leaving one by one, leaving you alone in the classroom as you gathered all your belongings from your desk.

Before leaving the classroom, you looked around and you saw that Seonghyeon's jacket and backpack was still on his desk.

He hasn't left yet.

Your first thought was to look for him so you quickly opened the door but ended up walking right into someone who was standing on the other side of the closed door.

You didn't have to look up to know who it was. You could recognize his smell immediately.

You took a few steps back to give him space and then looked him in the eyes as you spoke, “where have you been all day?"

“Out.” he said so simply, walking past you breaking the eye contact you guys had.

You couldn't explain how you were feeling, but you did know that you didn't want to leave this unresolved.

You turned around to look at him, he was putting on his jacket and grabbed his back pack without a word.

The light of the sun was shining through the windows, hitting his soft and shiny dark brown hair.

He looked so gorgeous from this angle, his perfectly sculpted nose and his crazily defined jawline never failing to amaze you.

Seonghyeon felt your stare on him, letting out a soft deep sigh as he sat down on his desk, now finally looking you in the eye.

“Can you come?” he asked, his face showing the most vulnerable facial expression you've ever seen on him.

Without hesitation, you walked over to him and placed your own bag near his on the floor, now standing right in front of him, between his legs.

He intertwined his right hand with your own, pulling you even closer so that you were now looking right down at him.

The both of you just stared at each other in silence for a few minutes before he decided to speak up.

“I'm sorry for acting immature.”

“You should be.”

He softly smiled at your reply, hiding his face in your chest.

“I just felt uneasy about how close you and Keonho were. I know I shouldn't be. It just happened.”

You put your hands on the sides of his cheeks and pulled his head back to make him face you again. “I'm happy you apologized. Me and Keonho are simply friends, you don't have to worry about it.”

He smiled, this time showing you his real smile. The one where you could see his deep dimples.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks, speaking quietly, seeming almost shy.

“Sure, why not?”

“Tell me you only want me.”

He looked at you with hopeful eyes, looking at you with a pleading look as if he needed to hear you say that.

“Seonghyeon.” you said, but he immediately cut you off.

“Please.” he said, getting up from the table and wrapping his arms around your waist, now being the one to look down at you.

You suddenly felt shy. Both of your faces were merely inches away from each other. He could probably hear how fast your heart was beating from how close you guys were to each other.

“I only want you, seonghyeon.”

He looked between your eyes, possibly to see if you were genuine and as if he got his confirmation, he smashed his lips against yours.

Your arms found their way to his face as his hands gripped your waist harder but not hard enough to hurt you, just enough for him to keep you in place.

You tilted your head to the side to kiss him deeper than before, getting lost in the taste of his lips.

They were so soft, you didn't want to let go.

Eventually the both of you broke apart from each other to catch your breath, both of you looking absolutely wrecked.

His cheeks were a dark shade of red, his lips swollen from how hard you had been kissing. He looked so beautiful like this, all yours.

With not a single word uttered, he pulled you into his embrace as he hid his face in your neck, taking in your smell.

You ran your hand through his hair, softly stroking it here and there.

The thing that pains you most about this is that Martin is always so gentle. That's why you find it so hard to focus on work when it's just you two in the studio.

Though, you cannot risk almost being caught again. That kiss was such a fond memory, but it needed to stay that way. Things were already hard, and an issue within the group was not needed.

Your thoughts die down when Martin whispers your name with his soft tone. The tone is one he almost never lets anyone but you hear. Your eyes find his again, watching the emotions swirling in his brown irises.

"Baby, I keep trying to tell you this, but you won't let me." he starts, "This beat is the last thing I care about right now."

Your eyes widen the smallest bit, "What do you mean? Martin, this is so important."

"No, what's important to me right now is you, you're my priority. I'm about to go to Chicago in a few days, then I'll be in North America for a while. I want to enjoy my last few days with you before we can't see each other." Martin's voice never raises the whole time he speaks, he would never yell at you, he just needs you to understand his reasoning.

"Martin..."

"No, listen, please. I love you, and you know that. I cherish these moments with you, that's why I'd rather focus on you right now." he adds.

Your whole entire demeanor softens as you stare at him, "Mars, I love you too, and I want these moments too. I'm just worried about the repercussions."

He nods, understanding where your anxiety about the situation is coming from. He get's scared too, but the want overpowers it most of the time.

"Why don't we focus on the song for another half hour, hm?" he asks, giving you an option that would satisfy both of you.

You nod, leaning in to give him a long hug. His arms wrap around you tightly as he gives you a small squeeze. When you pull back, the both of you start chatting about the lyrics again.

Around half an hour later, Martin watches your focused face as you re-arrange the beats on the computer. He tries to hold off, he really does, but to him you look too pretty to resist.

His hand comes out, cupping your cheek and moving your face towards his. His eyes search yours as his thumb running along the bottom of your lip.

"The beat-" you start, but he interrupts you.

"Fuck the beat." Martin mumbles before dragging your lips to meet his.

You immediately melt into the kiss. You had your worries about kissing in the studio, but they seemed to slip away once you felt his soft lips. They moved against yours with a gentle passion.

You knew you should pull away, that there was no excuse to almost get caught again. This time, you weren't in some noise cancelling booth, you were in the open, meaning you could hear the footsteps.

Once your hand comes up to thread through his hair, his head tilts. He lets out a small noise when you tug lightly on the blonde strands that had grown out over the past months.

He pulls back just barely, licking his lips, "Strawberries."

Your brows furrow at his mumble, "What? Genuinely what are you saying?"

His eyes are lidded as he looks back at you, "You taste like strawberries." he mumbles as he connects your lips again. This kiss is more fierce than the one before.

The strawberry chapstick you had put on earlier flashes through your closed eyes. The two of you are so sucked into this kiss that you don't hear the footsteps and laughter from the hallway.

"You like strawberries?" you ask, smiling into the kiss.

"I love strawberries, baby." he mumbles back, tilting his head again to deepen the kiss.

"I'm sure you do, baby." a new voice rings through the studio room, a voice you recognize to be Juhoon.

You immediately pull back, eyes wide and struck with fear. Martin groans and drops his hand from your face. When the boys register in your vision, their expressions are one of shock.

"You two have so much explaining to do, right now." James speaks as both Keonho and Seonghyeon nod.

"We're so fucked," you whisper, looking back to Martin, whose face is slightly red. You're sure your face is more flushed than the light pink on his.

"At least I can kiss you more now." Martin says, to which you lay a slap on his shoulder.

"Hurry up, Strawberry Boy." Seonghyeon frowns, to which you let out a small laugh at the name.

In practice, James knew exact which buttons to push to completely dismantle your unbothered facade.

"Y/N, can you pass me the tablet next to you?" James asked, sprawling on the green room couch with his legs stretched out, wearing that leather jacket he knew damn well you found attractive.

You reached over the table, grabbed the device, and accidentally bumped your own phone. The screen lit up for three short seconds before going dark again.

Three seconds were more than enough.

James’s eyes locked onto the table. A slow, arrogant, exceptionally smirking smile began to spread across his lips.

"No way," he muttered, slowly pushing himself off the couch.

"What?" you asked suspiciously, snatching your phone up quickly and pressing it against your chest.

"Hand it over," he took two steps toward you, his eyes gleaming with pure mischief.

"Not a chance, James! Grab your tablet and leave me alone."

Before you could dodge him, James used his height advantage to close the distance, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you close while effortlessly sliding the phone right out of your hand with the other. He pressed the side button. The screen lit up, illuminating his face: it was a candid picture of James backstage at a concert, caught mid-laugh with messy hair under the warm green room lights.

"A bit too late to fake it, isn't it?" James let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he stared down at the screen. "You tell everyone you're so over me, but you put me on your wallpaper?"

"I forgot to change it!" you protested, feeling your cheeks burn bright red. "I just haven't had time to look for another picture, give it back!"

"Is it because this is the only way you get to have me, Y/N?" he teased, his voice dropping into that dangerously low, raspy tone as he stepped even closer, pinning you gently against the edge of the table.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your chin up. "You're so full of yourself."

"I'm just being realistic," he whispered, leaning in until his lips were a fraction of an inch from your ear. "What do you want me to do? Want me to make a full-sized poster so you can put it up on your bedroom wall, too? A nice big picture for you to stare at before you fall asleep?"

"James..."

"Just one drop of me is enough to quench your thirst, isn't it?" he continued, his tone dripping with playful arrogance as his lips brushed down your neck before grazing your jaw, sending a shiver straight down your spine. "You're dying of stay-away syndrome, but you're too proud to admit it."

"You are unbearable," you muttered, though your hands were already clutching the lapels of his leather jacket, betraying your words entirely.

"And yet you wouldn't swap that wallpaper for anything in the world," James smirked triumphantly, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, warm, slow kiss that completely stole the air right out of your lungs.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark and thoroughly satisfied. He placed the phone back into your hand, gave you a quick wink, and took a step back.

"You can keep the phone," he teased, adjusting his jacket. "But if you want the live model later, you know where my dressing room is."

Notes: I love this song and I loved writing this one, please go listen to the song 🙏 Unedited, duh

it was actually painful to watch. like, physically painful.

you stood by the vending machines, pretending to be deeply invested in the ingredients of a strawberry milk carton, but your eyes were entirely glued to the courtyard. a few yards away, valerie and seonghyeon were standing next to each other. standing. not talking, not moving—just vibrating with an absurd, ridiculous amount of sheer pining.

val was doing that thing where she adjusted her backpack strap every three seconds, her cheeks a bright, stupid shade of pink, while seonghyeon stared at a spot just past her left ear like it held the secrets to the universe. he cleared his throat. she dropped her pen. they both bent down to grab it, bumped foreheads, scrambled backward like they’d just touched live wires, and immediately started apologising to the floor.

oh my god, you thought, pinching the bridge of your nose. someone put them out of their misery. please.

“if they keep this up, they’re going to single-handedly lower the average iq of this entire school.”

you jumped, nearly dropping your strawberry milk. you whipped around to find ahn keonho—seonghyeon’s best friend—leaning against the locker next to you. he had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his dark eyes fixed on the exact same trainwreck in the courtyard. his face was a picture of exhaustion.

“keonho,” you breathed, clutching your chest. “don’t sneak up on me like that! and also—yes. thank you. it’s a literal crime against humanity. do they not realise how loud they’re being without even speaking?”

“it’s deafening,” keonho agreed, a slow, sarcastic smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked down at you. “hyeon has been sighing into his textbook for three days straight. i can’t study. my grades are suffering. it’s a tragedy.”

“val spent forty minutes yesterday asking me if ‘hey’ with one y meant he hated her,” you groaned, throwing your hands up. “we’re living in a literal psychological horror film.”

keonho chuckled, a low, quiet sound that did something weirdly fluttery to your stomach—not that you had time to analyse that disaster right now. he tilted his head toward the courtyard, where valerie and seonghyeon were currently walking in opposite directions, both looking thoroughly miserable.

“so,” keonho said, his eyes dropping to yours, holding your gaze with a sudden, sharp intensity that made your breath hitch. “are we just gonna stand here and watch them suffer, or are we actually going to do something about it?”

you grinned, your eyes lighting up with dangerous, chaotic energy. “oh, keonho. i thought you’d never ask.”

☆

the blueprint for operation: true love was officially drawn up the very next day in the back corner of a cramped, neon-lit convenience store.

you slammed a notebook down on the plastic table, right next to keonho’s banana milk. “if we’re doing this, we need ground rules. methodical, airtight rules. we cannot afford to mess this up.”

keonho picked up his milk, taking a slow sip while browsing your hastily scribbled list with raised eyebrows. “rule number one: no k-drama tropes? you’re killing my vibe, yn! i was looking forward to orchestrating a dramatic rainstorm.”

“man, i’m serious!” you hissed, leaning over the table. “and rule number two is the most important: absolute secrecy. if val finds out i’m meddling, she will literally migrate to antarctica out of pure embarrassment. and if seonghyeon finds out…”

“he’ll lock himself in his room and study calculus until graduation,” keonho finished dryly, spinning a pen between his fingers. he leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a lazy, challenging tilt. “alright. partner. what’s step one?”

☆ 

step one, as it turned out, was a catastrophic failure.

you had meticulously engineered a ‘casual hangout’ at a trendy cafe near school. the pitch was simple: val and you were going, keonho and seonghyeon just happened to be there, and oh wow, look at that, let’s just grab a booth together!

it took exactly four minutes for the plan to crash and burn.

instead of hitting it off, val and seonghyeon had apparently lost the ability to function as human beings. they sat directly across from each other, radiating an aura of awkwardness so thick it was practically tangible. val was aggressively tearing her paper napkin into microscopic shreds, her eyes glued to her lap. across from her, seonghyeon was holding his iced americano with both hands, staring into the dark liquid like it held the secrets to the universe, occasionally clearing his throat but saying absolutely nothing.

the silence stretching across the table was deafening.

you kicked keonho under the table. do something, you screamed with your eyes. he winced slightly, shooting you a sharp look before clearing his own throat. “so, seonghyeon. you… like coffee. right?”

seonghyeon blinked slowly, looking up. “yeah. it’s… bitter.”

val suddenly squeaked, her head snapping up. “i like bitter things too! i mean—not that bitter. like, dark chocolate. but coffee is good. the beans. you know?” she immediately looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

 seonghyeon nodded solemnly. “beans are essential to coffee.”

you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted copper. under the table, keonho’s foot nudged yours. when you looked at him, he was biting his lower lip, his shoulders faintly shaking as he desperately tried to suppress a laugh.

“right, great, wonderful! beans!” you practically shouted, trying to salvage the wreckage. “speaking of essentials, keonho, didn’t you say you wanted to try that… new strawberry tart? let’s go look at the display counter, c’mon.”

before he could object, you grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the booth, leaving the two pining statues behind.

the second you reached the safety of the ordering counter, you slumped against the glass display, letting out a massive, exhausted groan. “oh my god. i can’t do this. i’m going to have a stroke before the semester ends.”

keonho let out the laugh he’d been holding back, a low, rich sound that vibrated right through you. he leaned against the counter next to you, crossing his arms. “i told you. ‘beans are essential’? that’s peak romance right there. we should just let them walk down the aisle now.”

“shut up,” you groaned, buried your face in your hands. “they’re literally painful to watch. why are they like this?”

“because they’re idiots,” keonho said softly. you dropped your hands to look at him, finding him already looking down at you. his usual sarcastic smirk was softened by a genuine, amused warmth. “but hey, you’re not doing too bad. your beans transition was flawless.”

“you’re making fun of me.”

“a little bit,” he admitted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he nudged his shoulder against yours, a casual gesture that suddenly made the crowded cafe feel very small and very warm. “but seriously. we’re in this together now. we just have to be smarter than them. which, judging by the current situation, isn’t a very high bar…”

you laughed, the frustration melting away, replaced by a strange, fluttering warmth in your chest. as you both stood there, looking back at the booth where val and seonghyeon were still sitting in absolute, agonising silence, you realised something terrifying.

carrying this double date was exhausting—but standing here, sharing the panic with keonho? it was the most fun you’d had all week.

☆

the ‘strategising’ sessions quickly became a daily necessity, though if anyone asked, you’d swear it was purely for the sake of the mission.

it started with a shared google document, which keonho immediately vandalised with sarcastic comments, and quickly escalated to meeting up outside of school. at first, it was just the library after school. then, it was the convenience store. by week three, you had a designated corner booth at a late-night diner three blocks from your house, surrounded by scattered notebooks, half-eaten fries, and a ridiculous amount of mutual brain rot.

“okay, hear me out,” you whispered, leaning so far across the booth’s sticky table that your collarbone was practically touching your cold milkshake. “next friday is the school festival. we slip a note into seonghyeon’s locker telling him to meet a ‘secret admirer’ behind the gym. but—plot twist—we slip the exact same note into val’s locker. they show up, and boom, trapped in an enclosed space. they have to talk.”

keonho, who was currently balancing a fry on his index finger, looked up at you with flat, unimpressed eyes. “yn, that’s a parent-teacher association lawsuit waiting to happen. what if they get locked in? what if the gym teacher finds them and thinks they’re skipping class to make out?”

“then the mission is accomplished!” you insisted, tapping your pen against his knuckles to make him pay attention. “focus, keonho. we are losing momentum. yesterday, val literally ran away from him because he offered her a piece of gum. fuckass gum. she thought it was a declaration of war.”

keonho laughed, his shoulders dropping as he leaned forward, mirroring your posture. he rested his chin in his hand, his dark eyes glittering with that lazy, teasing warmth that you were slowly—and dangerously—becoming addicted to.

“she’s dramatic. just like her best friend,” he murmured.

“excuse me? i’m highly pragmatic,” you shot back, though your cheeks warmed up under his steady gaze.

“sure you are. that’s why you have a colour-coded excel sheet for our best friends’ love lives.” he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the pen from your hand, spinning it lazily. “but seriously. we can’t do the locker thing. seonghyeon is too smart. he’ll recognise the handwriting, or worse, he’ll think it’s a prank and won’t go.”

“fine. what’s your brilliant idea, genius?”

he tapped the pen against his chin, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before darting back to your eyes. “we do a group study session. at my place. my parents are out next weekend.”

your heart did a sudden, violent flip-flop. “your place?”

“yeah. we invite both of them. then, twenty minutes before they arrive, you and i conveniently get ‘stuck’ at the grocery store buying snacks. we leave them alone in the apartment. seonghyeon’s awkward, but he’s a gentleman, so he’ll have to host her. they’ll have to talk!”

it was actually a really good plan. simple, low-risk, and highly effective. but your brain was currently stuck on a completely different detail.

“wait,” you said, your voice dropping a fraction. “so… we’d be hanging out? just the two of us? at the grocery store?”

he paused. the lazy smirk on his face faltered, just for a second, replaced by a subtle, sudden tension. he cleared his throat, his fingers tightening slightly around your pen.

“i mean. yeah. if we want the excuse to be believable, we have to actually go buy the snacks,” he said, his voice a little lower than usual. he looked down at the table, drawing mindless circles on the napkin with the pen. “unless… you don’t want to spend that much time with me outside of this…”

“no!” you said a little too quickly, a little too loud. a couple of juniors at the counter turned to look at you, and you immediately shrunk back into the booth, your face burning. “i mean—no, that’s fine. i don’t mind. i like… strategising with you.”

keonho looked back up, a slow, incredibly soft smile spreading across his face. it wasn’t his usual sarcastic smirk. it was genuine, quiet, and it made your chest ache in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with anything else in that moment—except ahn keonho.

“good,” he murmured, sliding the pen back across the table until it brushed against your knuckles. “because i’m starting to think the strategy sessions are the best part of my week.”

your breath caught, the cool plastic of the pen pressing against your skin feeling suddenly electric. before you could fumble for a response, keonho tapped the notebook, his classic, lazy smirk sliding back into place as if he hadn’t just thrown your entire internal monologue into a tailspin. “back to work, partner. next weekend is the big day.”

☆

the day of the study session arrived with a torrential downpour, which you chose to interpret as a brilliant atmospheric blessing for the mission.

operation: trapped in the apartment was officially a go.

keonho and you had arrived at his place early under the pretense of ‘setting up’, but the second the clock hit 1:40 PM—exactly twenty minutes before valerie and seonghyeon were scheduled to arrive—keonho threw his keys onto the counter and looked at you.

“right,” he said, checking his watch. “time to execute the snack heist. text them now.”

your fingers flew across your screen, sending a highly calculated, slightly frantic text to the group chat.

hey guys!! keonho and i realised we have literally zero food at his place 😭😭 so we’re sprinting to the grocery store down the street! the door is unlocked, so js go on in and make yourselves at home, alr?

“sent,” you breathed, looking up at him and pocketing yiur phone. “let’s go.”

the walk to the neighborhood grocery store was a chaotic scramble under a single, violently shaking umbrella. keonho had naturally taken the handle, his tall frame blocking the worst of the wind, but the sheer proximity meant your shoulders were glued together the entire three blocks. every time his arm brushed against yours to steady the umbrella, your heart did a stupid, nervous little stutter.

by the time you burst through the automatic glass doors of the store, you were laughing, shaking the raindrops from your hair.

“okay, we need to drag this out,” you whispered conspiratorially, grabbing a red plastic shopping basket and handing it to him. “we need to give them at least thirty minutes of pure, uninterrupted awkwardness so they’re forced to converse. walk slow. evaluate the snacks with extreme scrutiny, soldier.”

keonho snorted, following you into the chip aisle. “extreme scrutiny. right. let me check the structural integrity of these potato chips.”

for the next twenty minutes, the grocery store became your own personal playground. you dragged keonho from aisle to aisle, holding up random items and demanding his opinion.

“do you think seonghyeon is a sour cream and onion guy, or does he radiate standard salted energy?” you asked, holding up two bags.

keonho paused, leaning against the handle of the shopping basket, his eyes fixed on you with a look of amusement. “he’s definitely standard salted. completely predictable. unlike someone else i know who tries to buy literal seaweed snacks for a high-stakes romance intervention.”

“hey! seaweed is an elite study snack,” you pouted, tossing a pack into the basket anyway.

as you walked toward the beverage section, you checked your phone. no texts from val. no texts from seonghyeon.

“silence on the front,” you reported, turning back to him. “either they’re finally talking, or they’ve mutually decided to pretend the other doesn’t exist. do you think we should go back?”

keonho didn’t answer right away. he was standing near the glass drink coolers, the cool, fluorescent light catching the sharp angle of his jaw. he reached out, taking a bottle of banana milk from the shelf, but instead of putting it in the basket, he just held it, his dark eyes dropping to look at you.

“let’s give them ten more minutes,” he said softly. the teasing tone was gone, replaced by a quiet, deliberate slowness. “no need to rush back to the awkward chaos.”

“yeah?” you murmured, suddenly feeling very warm despite the air-conditioned aisle.

“yeah,” he said, a gentle smile touching his lips. he took a step closer, his shoulder lightly brushing yours as he placed the milk in the basket. “besides, i’m enjoying the grocery store hangout. it’s… nice. just us.”

your stomach did a violent, dizzying flip. you quickly turned your head toward the display case, pretending to be intensely fascinated by the rows of soda cans just to hide the raging blush creeping up your neck. you nodded quickly. “yeah. just us. it’s nice.”

by the time you finally walked back into keonho’s apartment, the air in the living room was thick with tension. val and seonghyeon were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, both staring at the textbook on the coffee table like it was a live bomb. val’s face was bright red, and seonghyeon looked like he had forgotten how to breathe through his nose.

keonho and you exchanged a quick, victorious glance behind their backs. the mission had been a success. they had survived thirty minutes alone.

but as you went to the kitchen to unpack the snacks, you weren’t thinking about either of your friends at all. you were still thinking about the way keonho’s voice had sounded in the drink aisle, low and private, completely shifting the gravity of the room.

☆

the ‘demonstration’ was entirely your idea. at least, that was the lie you kept telling yourself to ignore the frantic, drum-like beating of your heart.

it started on a tuesday afternoon. the four of you had been studying in the library, and val had spent twenty minutes staring at seonghyeon’s hands as he wrote down math formulas. later, when the two of them had left to get water, valerie had practically collapsed against your shoulder, whispering in a panicked rush, “yn, his hands are so nice. what if he held my hand? how do people even do that casually? what if my hands are sweaty? what if i ruin everything?”

so, naturally, during your late-night strategy session at the playground near your house, you brought it up.

“she’s overthinking the physical stuff,” you sighed, swinging lazily on the swingset. “she’s terrified of how a guy would actually initiate anything. she needs to see that it’s not some big, terrifying event.”

keonho, who was leaning against the metal chain of the swing next to yours, let out a soft huff. “it’s literally just holding hands. it’s not rocket science.”

“to val, it is!” you defended, turning in your swing to face him. “she needs an example. like… how a guy would actually do it. casually. so she knows what to expect. and i can’t really help ber because it’s not like i’ve held a guy’s hand before either.” you huffed. 

keonho stared at you for a long moment, the cool night breeze rustling his dark hair. he let out a slow, quiet breath, his gaze dropping to your hands resting on the swing chains. 

“fine,” he murmured, stepping off his swing. he walked over and stopped right in front of you, his tall frame casting a long shadow over yours. “i’ll show you. for… educational purposes.”

“right. educational,” you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was standing. you stood up, and you both began walking around the park.

“okay. say you’re walking next to her,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, calm register. “you don’t just grab her hand out of nowhere. that’s weird. you wait for a transition. like, your shoulders brush.” he leaned in slightly, his shoulder gently bumping yours. a tiny jolt of electricity shot down your spine.

“and then?” your voice sounded breathy, even to your own ears.

“and then, you look at her. you check if she’s comfortable.” he looked down at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made the rest of the playground completely fade away. he reached out slowly. his fingers, warm and slightly calloused, brushed against the back of your hand. “if she doesn’t pull away… you just… slide your fingers in.”

slowly, deliberately, keonho slipped his fingers between yours, his palm pressing warm and firm against your own. his hand was large, wrapping completely around yours, holding it with a gentle but protective pressure.

you forgot how to breathe. your eyes darted down to your joined hands, then back up to his face.

he wasn’t smirking. the sarcastic, teasing boy you thought you knew was entirely gone. instead, he was staring at you with a quiet, almost vulnerable focus, his thumb tracing a slow, agonizing circle over the back of your knuckles.

“like that,” he whispered, his voice incredibly soft. “that’s how a guy would do it. gently. so she knows he’s actually paying attention to her.”

“ah, i… see,” you managed to squeak out. you should have pulled your hand away. the demonstration was over. but you didn’t move, and neither did he. for a long, suspended second, you just stood there in the quiet night, hands tightly locked, the boundaries of your ‘partnership’ dissolving into nothing.

☆

after that night, the shift was impossible to ignore. the lines weren’t blurred; they were completely erased.

keonho started looking at you differently. he no longer looked past you or lazy-eyed during your planning sessions. when a plan succeeded—like the time you fully engineered a scenario where seonghyeon had to walk valerie to her bus stop—you had let out a triumphant squeal, grabbing keonho’s shoulders and shaking him.

instead of teasing you, keonho had just stood there, his hands coming up to gently rest on your waist to steady you. he had watched the bright, victorious grin on your face, with a look of absolute, breathtaking fondness crossing his features. he realised, right then, that your fierce loyalty and the passionate, chaotic way you cared for your friends was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. he didn’t care about the mission anymore. he just wanted to be the one who made you laugh like that.

and you were realising things, too.

you realised keonho wasn’t just a sarcastic jerk who got dragged into your schemes. he was the guy who remembered exactly how you liked your acai. he was the one who, when a sudden draft hit the library, silently draped his uniform jacket over your shoulders without you even having to ask, his fingers lingering on your collarbone for just a second too long.

he was reliable. he was attentive. and every single time he looked up from his notebook, caught your eye, and gave you that private, slow smile meant only for you, your stomach flipped and your heart beat faster.

you were supposed to be playing cupid. but looking at him now, you realised you had accidentally walked right into your own trap.

☆

the problem with succeeding at a mission is that, eventually, the mission… ends.

it started when val stopped texting you 911 flashes over a single-letter text message. then, during a tuesday lunch break, you watched in utter disbelief as seonghyeon casually reached across the table and slid his bag of chips over to her without a single foreheaded-collision or stammered apology. she took them, smiled, and her cheeks turned a very normal, incredibly soft shade of pink.

they were doing it. they were functioning like normal human beings.

and it was absolutely devastating.

because suddenly, the shared google document lay untouched for three days straight. the frantic, late-night phone calls detailing ‘tactical romantic interventions’ completely ceased. you sat at your desk at home, staring at your phone, waiting for it to buzz with a dry, sarcastic comment from keonho about how seonghyeon had accidentally breathed in val’s direction again… but the phone stayed dark.

when you did see keonho at school, the air between you felt thick, heavy with a strange, unspoken panic. one afternoon, you ran into him by the lockers. you gripped the strap of your backpack, trying to sound casual. “so… no emergencies today? i guess the locker plan is officially retired.”

keonho leaned against the locker, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. he looked exhausted, his dark eyes scanning your face with a restless, intense focus that made your lungs feel tight. he let out a low, rough breath. “yeah. looks like they’ve got it covered. seonghyeon didn’t sigh once during study hall today. it’s a miracle.”

“a miracle,” you repeated, the word tasting like ash. you forced a small smile. “we did it, partner. mission accomplished.”

he didn’t smile back. his jaw tightened, his eyes dropping to your lips for a agonisingly long second before he looked away, clearing his throat. “right. mission accomplished. guess i’ll… see you around, then.”

he walked away, and you stood there, your chest aching with a hollow, crushing realisation. you had spent so much time orchestrating a love story for your best friends that you hadn’t realised you were completely dependent on the boy who was helping you build it. you didn’t want the operation to end. you wanted an excuse. 

you wanted him. 

but you were too terrified to say it out loud, and judging by the cold distance he was suddenly keeping, you figured he was just relieved to finally have his free time back.

☆

the breaking point arrived on a thursday after school, and it didn’t involve valerie or seonghyeon at all.

you were waiting by the school gates for val, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, when louis, a popular junior who was your age (and a year younger than keonho) from the soccer team, walked up to you. he was tall, confidently leaning one arm against the brick wall right above your head, flashing a charming, practiced smile.

“hey,” louis said, his voice smooth. “you’re yn, right? friends with valerie? i’ve seen you around a lot lately. you’re pretty funny.”

you blinked, completely caught off guard. “oh. uh, thanks?”

“i was wondering,” he continued, tilting his head closer, his eyes scanning your face in a way that made you feel incredibly weird. wrong-weird. “are you doing anything this weekend?”

“i’m… busy, actually.”

“there’s this new arcade opening downtown. i thought maybe we could go together. just the two of us.” i heard you liked arcades…”

your brain short-circuited. you opened your mouth to stammer out a polite rejection again, but before a single syllable could leave your lips, a heavy, suffocating shadow fell over both of you.

“she’s busy,” a cold, lethal voice cut through the air.

you whipped your head around. keonho was standing there. you had never seen him look like this. the lazy, sarcastic, easygoing boy was completely gone. his face was set in a hard, dangerous mask, his eyes flashing with an icy, unbridled fury that actually made you step back. he didn’t even look at louis; his gaze was entirely fixed on the junior’s arm against the wall, his jaw clenching so hard you could see the muscle tick.

louis frowned, dropping his arm and stepping back, annoyed. “excuse me? who are you?”

keonho stepped directly into louis’s personal space, effectively cutting him off from you. he was slightly taller, his broad shoulders completely blocking your view of the senior. the aura radiating off keonho was so fiercely protective, so heavy with territorial jealousy, that the entire courtyard seemed to go dead silent.

“i’m the guy telling you to back off,” keonho said, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with a quiet threat that made louis’ confidence visibly evaporate. keonho reached back, his hand blindly finding your wrist, his fingers gripping you with a tight, unyielding pressure. “she said she’s busy, didn’t she? move along.”

louis looked between keonho’s expression and his tight grip on your wrist, raised his hands in defeat, and muttered a hurried, “whatever, man,” before turning on his heel and walking away.

the second he was gone, the silence rushed back in. your heart was pounding so hard against your ribs it felt physical. your brain was entirely fried. 

ahn keonho. protective. jealous. what?

keonho didn’t let go of your wrist. he finally turned around to look at you, his chest heaving slightly as he breathed. the fury in his eyes was rapidly melting into a raw, panicked vulnerability. he looked down at where his hand was tightly gripping your wrist, his fingers trembling slightly before he abruptly let go, stepping back as if he’d just been burned.

“keon—” you started, your voice shaking.

“don’t,” he muttered, rubbing a hand violently over his face, refusing to meet your eyes. “just… don’t, yn.”

without another word, he turned and stormed out of the school gates, leaving you standing there in the middle of the courtyard, your skin still burning where his fingers had been, your mind completely, utterly shattered.

the confrontation happened that very same evening, and the universe, in all its dramatic glory, decided to finally break the sky open.

a sudden, violent downpour had trapped you inside the municipal library down the street from the school. it was past 8:00 PM, and the building was practically empty, the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights mixing with the heavy, rhythmic thrum of rain against the large glass windows.

you walked out of the study aisles, swinging your umbrella in your hand, when you saw him.

keonho was sitting at a lone table near the back windows, staring out into the dark, rain-slicked streets. a textbook lay open in front of him, but he hadn’t turned a page in hours.

your breath caught in your throat. you gripped your umbrella tighter, your legs moving before your brain could talk you out of it. you walked over, the squeak of your sneakers on the floor cutting through the quiet. you stopped right at the edge of his table.

he slowly looked up. seeing you, his expression guarded over, that exhausting, distant mask sliding back into place. “yn. it’s late. you should be home.”

“you ran away,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. you stepped closer, slamming your hands flat onto the wooden table, leaning in. the frustration, the panic, the weeks of tension finally snapped inside you. “you literally lost your mind this afternoon, acted like you wanted to murder a guy for just talking to me, and then you ran away. you’ve been avoiding me for a week, keonho. what is your problem?”

he stood up so fast his chair scraped violently against the floor, the loud screech echoing through the empty library as you stepped back. he skirted around the table, cornering you against the bookshelf, his tall frame looming over yours, trapping you in his space just like he had at the playground. but this time, there was no gentle demonstration.

“my problem?” he echoed, his voice a low, furious hiss that vibrated right through your chest. his dark eyes were wild, completely stripping away every single ounce of his usual sarcastic armor. he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips. “you want to know what my problem is, yn? my problem is that i can’t think straight anymore. my problem is that i spent the last month pretending to care about seonghyeon’s love life just so i could have an excuse to hold your hand in the middle of the night.”

your eyes widened as you stared up at him, your heart hammering a frantic, drum-like beat against your ribs.

“we won, yn. they’re fine. the operation is over,” keonho whispered, his voice cracking slightly with a raw honesty that made your throat tight. he stepped even closer, his hand coming up to rest on the bookshelf right next to your head, his fingers trembling. he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a desperate, terrifying vulnerability.

“so tell me right now,” he said, his voice dropping into a breathless plea that completely shattered what was left of your sanity. “are we still doing this for them… or is this about us?”

the silence that followed was suffocating, heavy enough to drown out the relentless downpour slamming against the glass windows behind him.

you stared up at him, your lips parted, your brain entirely jammed on the echo of his voice. ‘just so i could have an excuse to hold your hand’. the words played on a loop, short-circuiting every logical defense you had spent weeks building.

keonho was still leaning over you, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the bookshelf. he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling just inches from yours, his gaze locked onto your eyes like he was drowning and waiting for you to throw him a lifeline. the terrifying honesty bleeding out of him was completely uncharacteristic of the boy who usually hid behind dry remarks and a cynical smirk. he looked completely undone. by you.

“keonho…” you breathed, the sound barely escaping your throat.

your hand, acting entirely on its own accord, reached up. your fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the damp fabric of his school uniform jacket, right over his chest. underneath your palm, you could feel it—the frantic, violent thudding of his heart, racing just as dangerously fast as yours.

“i don’t think it was ever about them,” you whispered, the truth finally breaking through the panic. you looked up into his dark eyes, your own vision blurring slightly with the sheer intensity of the moment. “at least… not for a long time. i was just too terrified to admit it because i thought you were only doing this out of obligation. i thought you wanted your free time back.”

he let out a low, ragged breath, the tension in his shoulders visibly fracturing. a sudden, breathless laugh escaped his lips—a sound of pure, desperate relief.

“you’re an idiot,” he murmured, but his voice was incredibly thick, completely devoid of any actual bite.

before you could react, his hand left the bookshelf. his warm, large palm slid up the side of your neck, his thumb resting gently against your jawline, tilting your face up. the touch was so tender, so desperately attentive, that it made your knees feel weak. he leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours, closing the final, unbearable distance between you.

“i don’t care about my free time,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hitching. “i just want you. i’ve wanted you since the first day you dragged me into that convenience store.”

you didn’t answer with words. you couldn’t. instead, you reached up, your fingers tangling into the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him down that last fraction of an inch.

the kiss was everything you had imagined it to be—intense, breathless, and heavy with the pent-up frustration of the last month. keonho’s grip on your jaw tightened slightly, pulling you flush against his chest as he kissed you with a deep, consuming fervor that made the rest of the world completely cease to exist. there were no plans, no tactical interventions, and no meticulously engineered scenarios. it was just him, his lips warm and desperate against yours, completely rewriting the rules of the operation you had built together.

when he finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, his eyes were bright, a slow, genuinely happy smile breaking across his face—the kind of smile he had never given anyone else.

“so,” he murmured, his thumb lazily tracing your lower lip, his voice dropping back into that familiar, teasing cadence you loved. “does this mean operation: true love is officially a success?”

you let out a soft laugh, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, pulling him right back in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “mission accomplished, partner.”

☆

the problem with officially becoming a couple after weeks of playing top-secret masterminds was that the habit of secrecy didn’t just disappear.

in fact, it became an entirely new game.

“if val finds out we’re together before she and seonghyeon actually figure their lives out, she’ll think we were distracted,” you whispered fiercely, your back pressed against the brick wall of the old equipment shed behind the gym.

keonho was standing right in front of you, his hands resting on either side of your waist, trapping you in his shadow with that lazy, familiar tilt of his head. he looked thoroughly unbothered by the high stakes of your ongoing secrecy. “distracted? yn, i’m highly focused. look at me. i’m the definition of dedicated.”

“keonho, i’m serious,” you gasped, your hands flat against his chest as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “if they catch us—”

“they won’t, angel,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing a slow, distracting circle into the fabric of your shirt. “seonghyeon is currently staring at a vending machine trying to decide if buying valerie a green tea is too ‘forward’. we have at least ten minutes.”

you let out a helpless laugh, tilting your head up to catch his lips in a quick kiss. it was chaotic, thrilling, and completely ridiculous. you were hiding in plain sight, sitting at opposite ends of the lunch table during the day, only to exchange lingering glances when no one was looking, or sliding your feet together under the desk during study hall.

but the final push for the original targets couldn’t wait any longer.

☆

the ‘push’ happened on a friday afternoon. 

keonho and you had quite literally engineered a situation involving a malfunctioning classroom door, a misplaced key, and a very deliberate ‘accidental’ lock-in during cleanup duty. you had shoved valerie into the room, keonho had pushed seonghyeon right after her, and you had clicked the lock into place from the outside with a triumphant snap.

through the small glass window of the door, you watched valerie panic and seonghyeon freeze.

“you have one hour!” you yelled through the door. “talk about your feelings or you’re sleeping here!”

“yn! open the door!” val shrieked, her face turning a bright scarlet.

keonho leaned against the wall next to you, crossing his arms and checking his watch. “don’t bother knocking, seonghyeon. i took the spare key from the faculty office. it’s a flawless trap.”

it took exactly forty-two minutes of agonising silence, followed by ten minutes of muffled, tearful shouting, before the window revealed a sight that made you squeal in victory. seonghyeon had his jacket wrapped around valerie’s shoulders, and her hand was firmly, properly tucked into his. they were finally, officially, talking.

the celebration hangout took place at the same late-night diner keonho and you had frequented during your spy missions. the mood was insane, fries were piled high, and val was practically glowing, her hand not leaving seonghyeon’s for a single second.

you were practically radiating pride, leaning back in the booth. “i’m just saying, the locked-door strategy was a stroke of absolute genius. we deserve a medal.”

keonho chuckled, sipping his banana milk. “a medal is standard. i was thinking a monument in the school courtyard.”

val suddenly stopped chewing her fry. she exchanged a long, incredibly knowing look with seonghyeon. seonghyeon cleared his throat, setting his drink down with a slow, deliberate slowness that felt eerily familiar.

“right,” val said, leaning across the table, her eyes darting between you and keonho. "so, are you guys going to stop acting like you’re in a low-budget spy movie now, or do we have to keep pretending we haven’t seen you kissing behind the equipment shed for the last two weeks?”

you froze, your strawberry milk freezing halfway to your mouth. “what?”

“you guys do know everyone knows you’re together, right?” seonghyeon added dryly, a rare, amused smirk touching his face. 0keonho, you literally wore her hair tie on your wrist during gym class last tuesday. you don’t even have long hair.”

your brain completely short-circuited. you whipped your head to look at keonho, whose ears were suddenly turning a very distinct, bright shade of pink. the masterminds had been compromised. you had played yourselves so hard.

“we were… we were being subtle!” you protested, burying your face in your hands as val burst out laughing.

“you really weren’t,” val beamed, reaching over to pat your arm. “but we appreciate the effort. and the locked door.”

an hour later, as the diner started to clear out, keonho caught your wrist under the table, tugging you gently. “come with me for a second.”

he led you down the narrow hallway toward the back exit of the diner, away from the noise of the main room, stopping in the quiet, dimly lit alleyway just outside. the cool night air hit your face, a stark contrast to the warm, fry-scented air inside.

keonho let go of your wrist, but he didn’t step back. he let out a long, slightly breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at you. the cocky, tactical mastermind facade was completely gone, replaced by that raw, honest vulnerability that always made your heart do backflips.

“so,” he started, his voice a little rough, a little nervous. “we’re terrible spies.”

“abysmal,” you agreed, stepping closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “the worst in history.”

keonho smiled, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing over your cheekbones. he stared into your eyes, his gaze so intense and steady that it felt like he was looking straight into your soul.

“i wanted to do this right,” he whispered, his breath warm against your forehead. “no more operations. no more schemes. no more using them as an excuse… to be near you.” he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against yours. for a guy who always had a sarcastic comeback ready, he suddenly looked completely struck dumb by how much he cared about you. “even though we’ve been… whatever this is… for the last few weeks,” keonho murmured, his voice dropping into something soft that made your knees instantly melt. “i never actually asked you. properly.”

he leaned down a fraction, his dark eyes searching yours with a quiet, desperate hope.

“yn. will you be my girlfriend? for real. no secrets, no undercover hangouts. just… you and me.”

you smiled, the absolute certainty of the moment washing over you like a warm wave. you reached up, tangling your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him down to your level.

“oh, keonho,” you whispered right against his lips. “i thought you’d never ask.”

© hyuneskkami ❦

that's when everything happened and fell down ; you began to say stuff that seemed unusual to martin. and him taking offense, he only added onto the fuel. if people were there, they wouldn't take it as a heated argument, they would've thought it was a simple miscommunication between the two of you — the whole disagreement seemed bored and no point in continuing.

you stepped up from the couch, lightly shoving the bowl of popcorn towards martin, some spilling out in process, "take this and go outside, i'm tired of you." you lowly muttered out, glaring at him like it's life or death.

"what am i going to do with this popcorn?" he raised an eyebrow, glancing in between your eyes and the popcorn. "you need to think about the words you said about me so you'll be there for awhile." you shrugged, picking up the blanket off of his lap, and wrapping it around your shoulders securely.

you got ready to turn around, before giving him one quick look, "don't call me, don't text me. just come back after ten minutes." you pursed your lips, holding onto the blanket tight, as you walked off to the bedroom, leaving him clearly annoyed on the cushions.

he narrowed his eyebrows at you, "you're going to be the one unlocking the door before the ten minutes are up." he mumbled under his breath. but you heard him loud and clear with the way you stopped in your tracks, sucking in a deep breath.

he watched you carefully, and for a bit you stood there. until you continued your footsteps, not wanting to interfere with him anymore.

he shook his head at the situation, a slight smirk wanting to rise up from the corner of his lips. he found it amusing, surprising that you even set that boundary knowing how attached you are. he knew you'd pass by – probably still angry, but more comforting.

therefore he listened, he stood up from the couch, gently placing the bowl onto the coffee table. he looked over to the remote and the tv, debating whether or not he should turn it off – but he left it on, just incase.

as soon as he opened the door, he stood foot into straight humid air hitting his face, the feeling of sticky already overwhelming him. he heaved a deep sigh, turning back to the hallway where your room sat at, already regretting obeying your words.

he spaced out for a bit, his foot still clinging onto the metal on the doorstep, whether he should barge in or out. he groaned in defeat, his foot reaching out to meet the planks of the wooden porch, harshly closing the door behind him.

he took small steps towards the bench, sitting himself down casually as he leaned back onto the bench, letting out a hiss at the peeling wood from the bench hitting the back of his neck in the meantime.

he sighed once again, the palms of his hands facing flat against his thighs. he stared up at the sky, staring in between the millions of stars, counting them in each section out of boredom.

a semi - heavy pout laid against his lips. his fringe was sticking to his forehead by now, his palms becoming heavy due to the humid night air. he always agreed with the concept of guys listening to their girlfriends — even if that meant getting kicked out of the house because of an argument. he was always performative with that, your his girlfriend after all — but never does he want to experience this ever again.

it wasn't just the humid air attacking him. thoughts of you ran through his mind by now ; how you were clinging onto his arm during the movie, how you fed him popcorn with the biggest smile on your face, how you looked up at him so softly.

he ran a hand down his face, stress completely taking over by now. he was so sure you would lose this fight. he wished he heard the squeak of the door right now, indicating you came by — just like how he anticipated. he hasn't even sat in for two minutes, and he already felt his legs giving up on him. becoming eager just to stand himself right up.

he slouched deeper into the bench, the bench creeking with the movement. his hands were now shoved deep into his pockets, not helping the spreading warmth it caused all over his body now.

he clearly missed you and was craving for your attention. though he didn't know if he wanted to give up just yet.

he peered between the closed door, the light lamp still shining through the glass, then towards the night road. the automatic warm lantern shined lightly above him, creating the only light source available to him.

his lips vibrated, trying to distract himself from you and actually listen to you fully. but his mind couldn't let go of all the scenarios of you that he had engraved into his mind. he was absolutely losing this.

he forced himself to think about the argument, how obliviousy disgusting it was, despite the fact it seemed so calm to the outside. he shouldn't have said his words, nor shouldn't have you. this was clearly a break for the both of you — considered a break for two people who are extremely attached. but it more so just a struggle at the point.

after a while of looking down at his feet, and the tips of his fingers playing with the wool inside of his pockets, he really couldn't handle it anymore. he stood up on both of his feet, immediately taking out his hands to ruff out his pants and hoodie.

he scurriedly made himself back into the house, the door creating an annoyingly squeak sound. the metal creaking underneath him once again once he stepped harshly onto it one foot at a time.

once the door closed behind him, the freshness of the ac blasted through his body. melting the stickiness off of his body, the skin slowly peeling away from the tight clothing.

his eyes ran towards the door you were settled in, carelessly making his way towards it. not even slowly, lightly, it was obvious a pair of footsteps was casually making its way towards the room you found cozy in.

when he appeared closer, he heard the hum of the tv in the closed room, there was no light casted beneath the door. he wondered what you were doing ; what if you were crying in bed, scrolling on your phone like the argument didn't affect you, or even his presence didn't.

he huffed out a breath, clearly overwhelmed. his hand instinctively reached for the door knob, twisting it with intention of you hearing just incase you didn't hear the sound of his footsteps.

your back was turned towards him, not watching the tv that was in front of the bed, a volume that wasn't too high but not too low, possibly meaning you had fallen asleep. though he didn't want to believe that.

he walked over to the side of the bed – his side of the bed. he looked over the empty space and realized how close to the edge of the bed you were on your side, almost indicating that if he were to come sleep, you'd be impossibly far away from him to reach you.

he pouted at the sight and thought, as he settled a knee into the mattress, causing a curve. he carefully leaned over you to watch your face. he caught the flutter of your eyelash, before you immediately shoved your face into the crook of your forearm to hide yourself from him.

"what are you doing here?" your words came out mumbled as you spoke into your forearm, aggression almost peering through your voice. he rolled his eyes, annoyance coming back, but his eyes softed once he realized where he was.

he sat himself down fully on the bed, now staring at the tv as his hand instinctively patted your side, "stop being mad at me, i don't like it." he admitted. "then stop being rude to me." you fought back, scooting your waist away from his touch.

his hand fell from your waist slowly, as he turned to stare at you — clearly upset, clearly tired, everything above that was all martin's fault. he studied you, he admired.

he let out a groan, "come on." he whined out, shifting closer to you, but you shifted away from him even more. "your ten minutes aren't up."

"how would you know?"

you picked up your phone from the bedside table, pressing a finger amongst the screen as your lockscreen lit up. there was set a timer, six minutes left on the clock.

"you timed this whole thing?" he let out a nervous chuckle, "did you think i would lose?" he added on. but you didn't reply back, as you just placed your phone back down onto the bedside table, getting back into your comfy position.

he smacked his tongue, dramatically falling onto his side as he moved closer towards you. his arm almost extended its way around your waist slowly – out of habit – but pulled back when he realized you wanted a challenge. "fine, watch me not cling onto you until the six minutes are up."

you turned your head around and met his stare. you scanned his feautures up and down with a glare so intense, before snapping your head back around.

"okay so you're still mad at me. great." he pursed his lips, but he still remained close to you. he placed his hand onto the opened space on your pillow, behind your head, as his fingers casually made its way to your hair.

his fingers were drawn down the side of your head and onto your shoulder, placing it there as he waited for a pull away or a verbal reaction — but to his surprise, there was nothing.

he took the chance to run the hand down your side, stopping right above your hip, watching you closely. and there was still nothing.

he smiled mainly to himself, as he scooted closer until your back met his chest. he placed his chin onto the blade of your shoulder.

"you didn't even last a second, martin." you muttered out. "and yet you're not moving away." he chuckled, shoving his face deep into the crook of your neck, as his arm fully guided itself around your waist, bringing you in closer.

it was your turn to click your tongue, admitting annoyance, "stop." you didn't budge to move, you didn't bother to argue, you just let him continue with his clingy acts.

he kissed the exposed skin of your neck, letting it linger for a bit before pressing more simple ones.

that got a small giggle out of you, forcing yourself to move away although his grip got tighter and his face stilled into your neck, practically making it impossible for an escape route.

he mumbled out a laugh at the reaction he got out of you, amusement sparking inside of him, "i knew you weren't going to be mad at me."

you didn't respond once again, melting to his touch out of instinct. you were supposed to be mad at him, you were supposed to detach yourself from him but just by one simple touch you were gone.

your hand reached behind you and settled on the top of his head, lying flat. he reached in deeper into the crook of your neck, anticipating for something more other than a lying flat hand on the top of his head but when he received nothing, his head snapped up, your hand falling back to its original position.

"now you're teasing me." his eyes narrowed, watching the side of your head. at that point, something was fuming inside of him and he didn't want to wait any longer. it wasn't annoyance, though to others it may seem like it.

he leaned over your body once again, a hand latched onto your shoulder blade as he guided your side down to lay flat on the bed.

when he finally met your gaze, a smile was plastered onto your face, causing all of the not so annoyance formed into his body to go away immediately.

"you can't stay away from me for a minute." you whisper, your fingers finally traveling to his hair.

he admired you as your fingers ran through his strands of hair, practically melting at the touch. he watched your features perfectly ; your eyes, your nose, especially your lips. his eyes were laced on your lips for moments before gazing its way back to your eyes.

you saw it all crumble, the fingers stopped moving through his hair as heat rushed through your cheeks, moving your head to the side slowly.

he brought his hand up to where your cheek met with the mattress, forcefully turning your head back and to no surprise, his stare remained onto your mouth.

you giggled, pulling your hand away from his hair as you placed it onto his forehead, providing a gentle push to it, "stop looking at me like that." you muttered out tenderly.

he smiled, leaning closer until the tip of your noses nudged a bit, creating a distance so small yet so far.

he reached in slowly as his body gave out. he wanted to challenge you this time just like how you did him, but he physically couldn't.

call that inseparable.

his lips met yours gently, with a pace so slow yet had so much deep meaning into it. the short amount of time he spent outside that made his need for you fall apart, showed it all as his lips moved so carefully.

you kept the same pace, casually with a small tilt of your head. your hand met his cheek, as his body leaned forward over you more, almost clinging onto your body.

he didn't rush ; his hands didn't rush, the pace didn't go farther than when started. he wanted to take his time and apologize through his internal feelings.

though the moment stopped when a ring was heard through your phone — and it wasn't a phone call.

it was the alarm that you had set for him prior to this moment. the six minutes that were left, the challenge he initiated six minutes ago.

you pulled back with a small smile, "how do you lose your own challenge."

his eyes fluttered, placing a small long peck onto your lips. the feeling of the minutes before still lingering as goosebumps raised through your body as his lips met yours again.

he pulled back with a chuckle, "it's impossible when you have a beautiful girlfriend."

you rolled your eyes at his words. "never kick me out ever again." he added on, reaching back in to leave more kisses onto your lips.

you placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place and stopping him from leaning in anymore against your lips, "you didn't say sorry by the way."

"this was my sorry."

ness ˎˊ˗ special tag to @08rtin yup yup 🤏🤏🤏

© yuesning — all rights reserved. DO NOT translate, copy, or transfer my works to other sites. this is my only writing blog.

you had been here enough times that you already knew where everything was and the house was definitely not unknown territory for you, still you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as you walked inside

but that last lingering feeling disappeared as soon as you got through the kitchen doors,

maybe it was the way his mother immediately started asking whether you were hungry, or the way his father greeted you with a warm smile and a hand on your shoulder, or the way his sister appeared from upstairs solely to yell your name before pulling you into another hug

ohyul stood there watching the whole thing with his hands in his pockets, a small smile tugging at his mouth

“i’m starting to think none of you actually missed me,” he said,

his sister looked over at him, “you’re right, we didn’t,”

you laughed and his mother shook her head, softly giggling too, “don’t listen to your sister, we’re happy you’re here too,”

“too?” ohyul repeated, looking offended,

you squeezed his hand and his sister immediately burst out laughing, “she gets it,”

ohyul gave you an unimpressed look, but there was no real annoyance behind it ofc because if anything, he looked far too happy to be surrounded by all of you,

and that was how the afternoon began

it was his mother who brought out the photo album a little later,

you had been sitting on the living room floor with his sister, sorting through some old family pictures while ohyul was helping his father bring things in from the car

you were completely relaxed and unsuspecting when his mother sat down beside you with a thick album in her lap,

“do you want to see ohyul when he was little?”

you looked at her with immediate interest, “yes!”

“no,” came a voice from behind you,

you turned around and ohyul was standing in the doorway holding two grocery bags, staring at the album like his mother had just pulled out a weapon,

his sister’s face lit up, “ohh my god this is gonna be so good,”

“mom,”

his mother smiled innocently, “what?”

“please don’t,” ohyul sighed, throwing his head back in despair,

you shifted closer to her, “now i definitely want to see them

“you’re making a mistake,” ohyul warned,

“you’d be surprised how willing i am to take that risk,” you laughed as his mother opened the album

the first few pictures were harmless enough. there was a tiny ohyul sitting at the dinner table, cheeks full of rice, looking deeply offended by whoever had interrupted his meal,

another showed him standing in front of a birthday cake with frosting smeared across his nose,

you smiled at each one, but his sister was clearly waiting for something better,

“keep going mom,”

“please stop,” ohyul said again but his mom already turned another page,

and there he was, probably around 7 or 8, wearing an oversized yellow sweater, shorts that were far too long for him, and a plastic crown sitting crookedly on his head

his expression was so serious that you actually had to look away for a second because you could feel your laughter building,

“oh my god,” you managed,

ohyul dropped his head, “why are we doing this??”

“you look so serious,” you said laughing

“because i was,” ohyul defended his younger self

his father, who had just walked in, glanced at the picture and immediately started laughing, “that’s when he decided he was a prince,”

you looked at ohyul, “a prince?”

“dude i was 7,”

“he made us call him prince ohyul for almost a month,” his sister added,

“that is not true,”

“it is,”

“it wasn’t even a week,”

“it was 3 weeks,” his mother corrected.

and you laughed even harder, “what happened?”

his father sat down in the armchair, “he wouldn’t eat unless his mother served him on the blue plate,”

“i just liked that plate,”

“and he cried when his sister touched his crown,”

his sister grinned, “because i broke it once,”

“you threw it,”

“because you tried to bite me,”

“doesn’t ring a bell,” his sister shrugged her shoulders, grinning a little too amused, “but that was probably deserved tho,”

you had to put the album down because you couldn’t stop looking at the pic without laughing now,

ohyul looked at you with a mixture of embarrassment and betrayal, “is this fun to you?”

“yes actually,”

“i can tell,” he sighed,

you reached for his hand and tugged him down beside you, “come here my prince ohyul,”

“don’t call me that,” he groaned, but he sat down next to you anyways,

“sorry your highness,” you joked again and his sister nearly choked on her drink,

ohyul stared at the ceiling as though asking for patience from a higher power, but you caught the little smile he was trying to hide

and despite all his protests, he didn’t move away from you

in fact, when you leaned your head against his shoulder to look through the next page, his hand settled quietly over your knee

the embarrassing pictures only became more ridiculous from there,

his mother found one of him at 13 with a haircut that looked like it had been personally designed to ruin his future dating prospects (it was bad)

his sister found a picture of him asleep on the couch with a stuffed animal tucked beneath his chin, which was lowkey cute

and there was even one of him at some school event wearing a costume that nobody could quite explain

overall, you were having the time of your life, “i’m keeping all of these,” you nodded satisfied,

his sister nodded too, “i’ll send them to you,”

“thank you,”

“that lowkey sounds like future blackmail material,” ohyul muttered,

you looked at him, “you know what? i think these make me like you more,”

his expression softened a little, “really?”

“yeah,” you reached up and fixed the collar of his shirt, “i like seeing you like this,”

“like what?” he smiled, lookinf down at you, “in my prince era?”

“no just.. you.. before i knew you,”

something about that answer made him go quiet, his eyes stayed on you for a second longer than necessary before he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead,

his sister groaned dramatically, but there wasn’t any actual annoyance behind it, “okay calm down big guy we’re doing family bonding, not whatever this is,”

you laughed, “sorry.”

“you’re not sorry,” his sister laughed, throwing a pillow in your direction

“i’m not no,” you grinned,

ohyul smiled against your hair, “that’s what you get for pulling up these pics,” he said, pointing at his sister

later, after his mother and sister were busy setting the table, you found yourself alone in the kitchen with his mother,

you had insisted on helping, even tho she kept telling you several times that you were a guest and didn’t need to do anything, but eventually she’d given up and handed you a bowl of vegetables to prepare,

“you know,” she started, “you really don’t have to help me every time you come here,”

“i know,” you smiled, “but i like it,”

she watched you for a moment before turning back to what she was doing, “i’m glad,”

the kitchen was warm, filled with the quiet sounds of cooking and conversation drifting in from the living room

you were reaching for something on the counter when she spoke again, her voice softer this time, “he’s very happy with you,”

you looked over, “ohyul?”

she smiled, “who else?”

you laughed softly, “he makes me happy too,”

“i know,”she smiled as she rested her hands against the counter, turning towards you with a loving look, “you know, when he was younger, he was always very private. he didn’t tell us much if something was bothering him. even when he was happy, sometimes we’d only know because he’d suddenly start humming around the house.”

you smiled, “he still does that,”

“i know,”she laughed, “but lately, whenever he comes home he always talks about you. little things. things you probably wouldn’t even think were important,”

your cheeks warmed, “really? like what?”

“sometimes he’ll tell us something you said. sometimes he’ll complain that you’re not eating well or sleep too little,”

“that sounds so mother like,”you snorted, which made you both laugh

then her expression softened, “but mostly, he talks about how comfortable he feels with you,”

you stopped what you were doing, “he said that?”

“not in those exact words, “she smiled again, “but i’m his mother, i know him,”

you nodded quietly and she reached over and gently squeezed your hand,

“you make him feel loved. that’s all a mother really wants for her child,”

your eyes stung a little as she continued, “and i hope you know that you don’t have to earn your place here,”

you looked at her,

“you already have one,” she added,

and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say, so you simply leaned over and hugged her,

she laughed softly, wrapping her arms around you, “see? this is why we love you,”

“i love you guys too,”

when you pulled away, ohyul was standing in the doorway,

he looked between you and his mother, “what happened here?”

his mother smiled, “nothing,”

“why do you both look like you’re about to cry,”

“we’re not,” his mother laughed softly,

you wiped beneath one eye, “your mom was being sweet,”

ohyul sighed, “aaahh yeah she does that,”

his mother gave him a look, “you should try it too,” she joked,

“i am sweet,”

you turned toward him, “sometimes,”

he walked over, slipping an arm around your waist, “sometimes is enough,”he leaned down and kissed your cheek,

his mother laughed and shook her head, “go help your father,”

“why?”

“because i want a moment with my daughter,” she said as she playfully shooed him away from the counter,

you laughed as ohyul looked between his mother and you, “that’s actually rude,”

“go,”

“fine,” he sighed, but before leaving, he leaned down and whispered into your ear, “i’m stealing you back later,”

you smiled, “we’ll see,”

his father found him outside a little while later,

the evening air had cooled and ohyul was standing near the edge of the garden with his hands resting on the railing

through the open door behind them came the muffled sound of you and his sister laughing about something,

his father stood beside him without saying anything at first, they’d always been comfortable with silence

“she’s good for you,” his father said eventually,

ohyul smiled slightly, “yeah.”

“you seem different than before,” his dad added,

and ohyul glanced at him, “different?”

his father shrugged, “you’re lighter,”

that made him smile, “i feel lighter yeah,”

his father nodded, looking out over the garden, “i like her,”

ohyul only hummed in response, not knowing what other words would justify in the moment,

“your mother really likes her,”

“yeah,” ohyul snorted, “i know,”

“and so does your sister,”his father smiled before becoming a little more serious, “yk when you were younger, i used to worry about you,”

ohyul looked at him, “about what?”

“whether you’d let someone close like this,”

ohyul was quiet so his father continued, “you’ve always had a good heart. but you keep a lot inside. i wasn’t sure you’d ever find someone you could actually relax around, your mom and i spoke about it a lot,”

ohyul looked through the glass doors and you were sitting at the table now, listening to his sister tell some ridiculous story, your laughter carrying faintly through the doors, just enough to be heard in the comfortable silence outside

“i didn’t know either,” he admitted to which his father nodded,

“but she seems to understand you,”

“she does,”

“and you understand her?”

ohyul smiled, “i try to,”

“good,” his father gave him a small nudge with his shoulder, “because that’s the part that matters,”

ohyul looked down at his hands, “i really like her dad,”

his father’s expression softened, “i know you do son, don’t take it for granted,”

ohyul nodded and his father was quiet for a moment before adding, “and don’t think loving someone means you have to make everything perfect for them,”

ohyul looked over, “what do you mean?”

“you’re going to mess up sometimes. she’s going to mess up sometimes. you’ll have stupid arguments. you’ll misunderstand each other. but yeah.. that’s.. normal,”

his father smiled faintly, “just remember that when you’re angry, she’s still the same girl you love,”

ohyul let out a small laugh, “that’s actually good advice for once,”

they both laughed, then his father looked back toward the house, “she fits here,”

ohyul followed his gaze, you were leaning over the table, laughing at something his sister had said while his mother brought food over to you,

his father watched the smile spread across his son’s face, “you really found a good one,”

ohyul nodded, “yeah,”

there was a quiet pause then his father patted his shoulder, “take care of her,”

ohyul looked at him, “i will,”

his father smiled, “good,” then, after a beat, he added, “and don’t get her pregnant before you’re ready,”

ohyul nearly choked, “dad!”

his father laughed so loudly that all 3 of you looked toward the garden through the glass doors,

“what happened?” his mother called out,

“nothing,” ohyul shouted back, his father was still laughing when ohyul covered his face with one hand, “i cannot believe you,”

“you never know what happens son,” his dad grins, patting his back in this fatherly way

by dinner, the house was loud in that comfortable way family homes often were,

everyone talked over one another, his sister kept interrupting his stories to correct details, his mother kept putting more food onto your plate despite your protests and his father occasionally joined in with some embarrassing moments about ohyul’s childhood

and you fit right into the chaos, ohyul noticed it every time he looked at you

you weren’t sitting quietly at the edge of the conversation, waiting for him to include you,

you were right in the middle of it, laughing with his sister, asking his mother about the recipe, teasing his father when he joined in on the stories

at one point, his sister leaned toward you and lowered her voice, “i still don’t understand how you ended up with him tho,”

you glanced at ohyul and he was pretending not to listen, “honestly?”you smiled, “i think i just felt sorry for him,”

his sister nodded, “makes sense,”

ohyul looked up, “i heard that,”

you laughed, “good,”

underneath the table, his hand found yours, his fingers slipped between yours and when you looked over, he was already smiling at you,

“what?” you whispered

“nothing,”

“you’re looking at me weird,”

he squeezed your hand, “because i like having you here,”

your expression softened, “that’s cute,”

his thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles, then he leaned closer and pressed a small kiss to your temple

you smiled, “ohyul,”

“what?”

“your family is here,”

“i know,”

his sister looked up from her plate, “we can see you btw,”

ohyul didn’t even look embarrassed or bothered at all, “good for you,”

his mother laughed, “let them be,”

his father shook his head, smiling into his food and somehow, that made the whole moment even sweeter.

because this wasn’t some perfect, movie like family

they were loud and nosy and embarrassing, they teased each other relentlessly and knew exactly which buttons to press,

they argued over stupid things and laughed 5 minutes later

but they loved each other.

and somewhere between his mother’s kitchen, his sister’s teasing, his father’s quiet advice and all those ridiculous childhood photographs, you had become part of that love too,

ohyul looked at you one more time,

you were laughing at something his sister had said, your hand still warm inside his

and he thought, with a quiet certainty that settled somewhere deep in his chest, that maybe this was what home was supposed to feel like,

not a place, not a house

just a table full of people you loved and the person you loved most sitting beside you

mlist ツ

the pause is immediate.

slowly, he lifts his head, eyes narrowing in the exact way that tells you that he’s already decided he doesn’t trust you.

“that sentence is never followed by something normal,” he says carefully, setting his phone down like he’s preparing for impact.

you try not to smile, but obviously you fail.

“it’s not bad,” you insist, shifting closer to him on the couch until your shoulder bumps his. “it’s actually very simple. you just have to… participate.”

“i don’t like how confident you sound right now,” he replies, voice flat but amused. and you can already tell he’s fighting a smile.

“oh c’mon, you’re being dramatic,” you say reaching for his hand just to distract him, and he lets you take it without thinking about it, which is always dangerous because it makes you forget what you were even arguing about for a second.

“i’m being realistic,” he corrects, turning your hand in his like he’s inspecting it for evidence. “last time you said ‘it’s just a trend,’ i ended up doing something embarrassing in public.”

“that was one time.”

“it was three times.” he says immediately, and now he’s definitely smiling.

you ignore that because you’re committed now.

“this one’s harmless,” you continue, shifting your tone into something softer, more convincing, leaning your head slightly closer to his shoulder as if proximity alone could win him over. “it’s just a guessing game.”

seonghyeon finally looks at you properly at that, and the way his expression changes tells you he’s trying to figure out where the catch is.

“a guessing game…” he repeats slowly, like he’s testing the phrase for traps.

you nod way too quickly.

“about what.”

you hesitate for half a second too long, which is exactly enough time for him to look even more suspicious.

“chapstick,” you say finally, as casually as possible, and immediately regret how convincing that sounds out loud.

his eyebrows rise.

there’s a beat of silence where he just stares at you, and you can practically feel him trying to decide whether you’re serious or not.

“of course it’s chapstick,” he mutters, leaning back against the couch like he’s accepted fate. “why would it ever be something normal like a quiz or a movie recommendation.”

seonghyeon looks at the chapstick like it personally offended him.

“and if i refuse?”

“then i’ll be very disappointed,” you say, widening your eyes slightly, because you know exactly what it does to him.

he holds your gaze for a long while, clearly trying to resist whatever instinct is telling him to give in.

it lasts maybe three seconds.

“fine,” he says finally, snatching the chapstick from your hand like he’s doing it reluctantly for legal reasons. “but if this is weird, i’m blaming you.”

“it’s not weird.”

“it’s always weird with you.”

you ignore him again, because he’s already uncapping it, and you’re trying very hard not to look too excited about that fact that this is actually working.

he applies it slowly, deliberately, like he’s suspicious the entire time, and you watch him with way too much satisfaction, propping your chin in your hand as you wait.

when he’s done, he caps it and tosses it back to you.

“okay,” you say, leaning forward, your knee brushing his. “guess.”

he leans in closer just slightly, studying your face in a way that makes your brain briefly forget what you were doing, which it unfair because you’re supposed to be in control of this situation.

“cherry,” he guesses first.

“no,” you say, shaking your head.

“strawberry,” he tries next, a little less confident.

you shake your head again, and you can see him starting to get annoyed now.

“watermelon,” he says, squinting.

you chuckle at that one because he says it like he already knows he’s wrong.

“no,” you confirm again.

he leans back, groaning under his breath like this is a much bigger problem than it needs to be.

“yeah, this is rigged.” he decides.

“it’s not rigged, seonghyeon,” you say, smiling.

“you’re enjoying this way too much,” he accused, pointing at you like that’s proof of something.

he shifts closer again, this time with purpose, his knee pressing more firmly against yours, and you realize way too late that he has changed strategies.

“come here,” he mutters, almost a whisper.

you immediately narrow your eyes. “why.”

“because i need another try.”

“that sounds like cheating to me.”

“it’s called data collection,” he replies, already leaning in. “i need to know what i’m working with.”

you should stop him.

you absolutely do not stop him.

the first kiss is soft enough that it barely feels like a decision, more like something that happens between conversations without permission, his hand resting against your wrist like he’s grounding himself there. when he pulls back, it’s only far enough to look at you properly, like he’s actually thinking now.

he blinks once, then slightly tilts his head.

“peach,” he says confidently, all smiley.

you immediately laugh, because it’s wrong in the exact way you expected.

“that’s not how this works,” you reply, still smiling.

“it tasted like peach,” he insists, completely serious.

“you’re just saying that because you like kissing me,” you accuse, and you regret it the second it leaves your mouth because his expression changes in a way that makes your face warm instantly.

“i do like kissing you,” he admits, like it’s obvious, and then he leans in again before you can respond.

the second kiss lasts longer, slower, like he’s testing again on purpose, and by the time he pulls back you’ve completely forgotten the point of the game, which is exactly the problem.

he looks far too pleased with himself.

“still peach,” he repeats.

“it’s not peach.”

“then it’s broken.”

“it’s not broken, you’re just really bad at guessing.”

he gasps dramatically, leaning back against the couch like you’ve insulted his entire identity.

“bad… bad at guessing,” he repeats, clearly offended, and you can’t help but laugh harder because he looks genuinely betrayed by the accusation.

“try again,” you say, pointing at him.

“…okay,” he says eventually. then he kisses you again.

this one is different, not faster or slower exactly, but more certain, like he’s decided this is the correct method and he’s sticking to it. when he pulls back this time, he doesn’t guess right away, he just looks at you longer than necessary.

“strawberry?” he tries again, but there’s no confidence in it now.

you shake your head very slowly.

he exhales, lean in his forehead against yours, he’s thinking about too hard about something that’s objectively not that serious.

“you’re distracting,” he mutters.

“you started it.” you remind him.

by the time you’ve lost track of how many guesses he’s made, the chapstick flavor has become completely irrelevant to both of you in a way neither of you are willing to admit. he keeps getting closer every time he tries again, like the game is an excuse now, and you’ve stopped pretending you’re not leaning into it too.

when he finally pauses, still close enough that you feel his breath against your skin, he looks at you like he’s considering something far more important than guessing.

“watermelon,” he says quietly.

you freeze for half a second, then immediately shake your head. “no.”

“oh, really?” he asks.

you hesitate, looking at his face you know he’s sure of his answer.

“…maybe,” you admit.

his smile widens instantly, like that was all the confirmation he needed.

“i knew it,” he says, far too satisfied, and you groan, realizing too late that he absolutely did not need more than one kiss to win this game.

and when he leans in again, and you don’t stop him, because at this point losing neither of you remembers why you ever wanted to.

the game is long forgotten.

pensieri this was originally written for keonho, but then after i finished revamping it, i thought it’d suit seonghyeon ! plus i haven’t written for seonghyeon in a while so ( > < )

contains — established relationship, kissing, skinship, jealousy, slight possesiveness, intrusive thoughts, juhoon slander from reader's classmates. A single curseword, domestic relationship. Not proofread.

You were only months into a relationship.

The year went by so quickly, you never realised how much time had truly passed.

It felt like yesterday when you confessed to Kim Juhoon.

You NEVER expected yourself to make the first move.

But there was one thing you also knew, and it was that Juhoon was way more shy than you were, so if anyone decided to be confrontational on different occasions, it was you.

Juhoon attempts and later overthinks it. Your carefree personality chose to take the task of leading conversations and hangouts.

He had become way more comfortable with you by his side.

He appreciated your role and always expressed his thankfulness through gift-giving and acts of service, believing that actions spoke louder than words

Of course, your heart would melt at such an art of love.

Juhoon confessed that if you ever doubted his silence for coldness, it was nothing but peace that had been consuming him whenever he was around you.

And if you ever mistook his actions for distance, he admits to be held accountable.

He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible but we are all individuals at the end of the day who walk in our own flesh.

He gets drained out easily and isn't always ready to meet people in general.

You understood him nevertheless.

Throughout the relationship, it was never admitted that you secretly enjoyed affection despite being shy about it.

You strove for physical touch and at times, receiving attention was the best way to be yourself and express your natural happiness.

Especially around your boyfriend.

But Juhoon?

He wasn't so alike to your thinking.

Although he doesn't dislike skinship.

He just doesn't know how to initiate it, naturally.

The first few awkward encounters in the relationship was enough to let you know that the idea of being touchy around each other would be a lost cause.

Even if the most bizarre thing you both had done in the name of touch was a side hug.

But you both respected it like an untold rule.

He never took the upper hand in things like this, even when the universe had molded guys in relationships to often do so.

You never asked for attention either.

Things just stayed like that. Neither of you minded.

Recently, your algorithm was all about couple goals and mood boards of partners in love with each other.

You never once thought, that you could ask for a better partner whenever you look at the comments of people comparing each other's love lives.

All the hate,

All the differences,

It didn't matter.

Juhoon was already trying his best, you could tell.

You admired him for that alone.

It was safe to say that you were down bad for him and that everything he has done so far is just as admirable.

Speaking of admiration, you were waiting at your boyfriend's side and noticed how his doe eyes wavered around the different ice-cream flavours underneath a slightly fogged glass.

He looked cute, the smile on your face had been plastered on for about 10 minutes to confirm.

He searched for the right one as if it was one of the most important choices of his life.

You huffed a smile, already free from the weight of choosing your own desired pick.

The one you picked? Vanilla.

Simple, nothing too bad.

You never understood the hate for vanilla for its simplicity, wasn't that supposed to be a good thing?

Artificial flavouring for exaggerated options like cherry cola and cotton candy felt good too but didn't feel authentic.

You can tolerate being called basic but you stick to your preferred choices.

Like your own boyfriend too.

Remembering how one day, you decided to post your hard launch with Juhoon on your story.

Everything about it was very special, since you had been single from the moment you were born. It came as a shocker.

But some of your ex-classmates who followed your social media account decided it was finally time to criticise your love life and taste in men.

"Him? Doesn't he look super cold and not friendly?"

"So you're dating Kim Juhoon? The most emotionally unavailable guy on earth?"

"Goodluck lol"

You had left all the texts on read.

It wasn't worth your time to start questioning your boyfriend.

After being with you, he was irrelevant to the topic of being rude and cold or whatever adjectives people called him out on.

Nobody knew about him better than you did.

Your thoughts fell apart like glass shattering when a sudden soundwave occured.

"May I have this one?" He finally voiced.

You begin to look towards the 'one' he was pointing at. The seller said it before you could.

"Chocolate?"

Juhoon nods and takes in a breath.

You lightly smirked.

"All of that thinking just to choose chocolate?"

He looks towards you and puts his lips into a flat line. "Well.." He begins to reason.

"I wanted to try something different, but since I was taking so much time, I figured that there was nothing wrong with trying out something you have always loved, yet again."

"Woah, that's one way to look at it."

"Right, since there is always a next time I can chose something else. We will go with chocolate this time." He chuckled.

He could've taken the whole day and you still wouldn't mind it.

Small lookouts like these?

Ensuring he doesn't waste your precious time with his choices, or making you feel important by acknowledging that you dedicated the whole day hanging out with him?

It was very thoughtful of him.

Talk about being crazy, you're falling for your own boyfriend all over again.

"Vanilla and Chocolate. Basic yet amazing." You quoted to which he simply nods.

"Are we basic?" He asked jokingly.

"No. Being basic isn't bad. It's being who you truly are even if you find yourself amongst a million."

Juhoon put his lips into an 'o', astonished by your way of talking.

After him teasing you for a bit, calling you smart and in return being called smarter, you both exchanged a soft smile.

A second passed on the tick of your watch.

"So, where are we going later?" Juhoon asked.

"I have a project to do soon, I might go home." You revealed.

"Do you want to come?" You offered.

"Of course." He says so casually.

"I'll let my mom know then." You pull out your phone and typed on the screen quickly.

"If it burdens her then I'll stay back." He tilts his head after giving it a thought.

"She loves you more than her own child. Don't worry." You reassured him.

"Really?" He giggled.

You hummed.

You later heard the seller's voice behind you, making you realise that they were handing out your ice-creams.

"Oh, Thank you." Juhoon bowed before taking both of the cups.

He calls out your name like he was taking a roll call.

You took your own piece before raising your brows.

He takes his own cup and adjusts the spoon in the cup so that it doesn't fall off from the slightest impact.

"Whenever you call me by my name, I feel weird." You say.

"Really? How so?" Juhoon takes three tissues from the stall, viewing it for a short second before looking back at you.

"Well almost everyone calls me that, shouldn't you call me something different?" You shrugged your shoulders.

He places two tissues under your ice-cream cup so your hands don't feel cold, before replying—

"Like a nickname?"

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Yes, genius."

"Well you seem to put your words into practise, don't you?" He takes a bite of his cold ice-cream.

"Yeah, it's quite easy. You should try it sometimes." You ate a small scoop of your own flavoured ice-cream.

You started walking alongside Juhoon to prevent halting the other customers from approaching the seller.

You were on the inside of the road, as always.

Whether you'd be walking on the road or not, he always made sure you stood on the inside.

Juhoon hums, holding his spoon in the air.

"I'm sure you fit in alot of good complimentary words but I don't know which one you want me to call you by." He looks towards you, to his left.

One of your earrings caught his eye. It was a longer one that swung around with every step.

The sun made it shine through the strands of your hair.

How he wished to drop everything in his hand only to push back your hair and look you in the eyes lovingly.

Meanwhile, you pondered at his words.

Wanting to be humble, you hadn't really thought of any nicknames that could fit you.

"Just call me by anything cute." You lazily say.

He smiled cutely, having his eyes smile along.

After a short inhale, Juhoon gets an idea.

"Well.. maybe I can call you—" he was about to say something when a small encounter took place out of nowhere.

You were peacefully walking, awaiting your boyfriend's response to the ask when suddenly, a man bumped into you.

He was tall, he was good-looking for the normal eye.

Quite the description.

"Oh—! I am so sorry.." The guy said facing you, after dramatically placing his hand on his arm like he was bleeding a river.

"It's alright. Are you hurt anywhere?" You asked the kind stranger.

Juhoon watched everything in silence, imagining himself behind a tree who stepped across some illegal meet-up in a mystery movie.

"I'm not! Thanks for asking though, hahaa.."

The stranger bowed and awkwardly laughed.

He makes eye-contact with Juhoon.

Juhoon could only bow, not wanting the interaction to last a minute more.

The feeling was strange; he admits to being jealous even though he wished he didn't.

You bowed back to the stranger out of respect and began looking away after an exchange of small words.

You and Juhoon fell into step again but only after 2 minutes, you both get interrupted, again.

A small pat on your shoulder alerts you and takes you aback, noticing the same guy who bumped into you earlier.

"Sorry to bother..." His eyebrows furrowed out of embarassment. Juhoon disliked it even though there was nothing wrong with it.

The person starts fiddling with something in his hands.

The stranger holds up a small dangling earring that looked like petals covered in rhinestones.

"Is this yours...?" He said.

Juhoon recognised it was yours before you could. You checked both sides of your ears with your free hand to notice that indeed, one of them had fell off.

"Oh! It is mine..." You reached to take the piece of jewellery from him.

He gives it back to you but purposely lets his fingers linger with yours.

The small contact of skin was enough to drive Juhoon crazy.

He could feel how delibrate the guy's intentions were.

He was never possesive about you.

He didn't want to let himself be in control of your body and mind.

Sure, he gave his bits and pieces in contributing to your major life decisions.

But it was done on mutual agreement.

Whatever that guy who looked too good for his own good was doing, was unacceptable.

According to Juhoon.

You bowed one more time, he noticed that your smile was wider than before.

The guy stayed, taking very minute steps behind like he didn't want to leave you.

Soon enough after sharing long eye contact with you, the mysterious man goes along his path.

You let out the breath you held in, the stranger definitely put you at unease despite the kind exchange.

You look at the earrings in one hand and your ice-cream in the other.

"Wait, hold this." You handed Juhoon your ice-cream cup which had been melted now.

He takes hold of it without any complain, noticing the liquid state of your dessert.

His own kindness might've melted.

Melted away.

All for the man who gave you your earrings back like it was a scene out of a high school youth series.

You tried to wear the single piece but for some reason, the earring back wasn't fitting the metal behind your earlobe.

The stopper just wasn't tightening the jewelry properly. If you left it as it is then it might be lost again and never to be found.

"I'll just wear it at home." You gave up, placing the earrings into your pockets.

Juhoon hands back your dessert that looked not so appetising, all thanks to the heat.

"Damn, my ice-cream melted." You looked at it in disappointment.

"Courtesy of the earring finder." Juhoon whispered to himself while he completed his own dessert.

"What?" You asked, thinking he was telling you something.

"Nothing." He smiled and just continued to put a neutral face.

"Why don't you come this side?" Juhoon stares into the crowd of troublesome guys ahead who were walking towards the both of you.

"There? Why?" You asked him in confusion, wondering why he was glaring at a bunch of highschool boys around your guy's age.

He did not want you interacting with any more males.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and shifts you on the outer section of the sidewalk where you were right beside the road.

You were astonished.

"Hey, There are so many cars going and coming, What if I get dragged by some kidnappers who pull up in an ice-cream van?" You joked as you looked at Juhoon up and down, wondering what had suddenly taken over him.

"You'll be fine." His gaze is still fixated on those young men, unfazed by your absurd question.

Juhoon glances at your attire. You had worn a jacket over your sleeveless top you were wearing so that it wouldn't get exposed to the sun.

He looks back at the chaos unfolding infront of them.

His thoughts were right when they all started jogging on the sidewalk like their fathers owned it.

The boys were rowdy and were sharing big laughs while you were still walking on the outside unwillingly.

Some of them brushed shoulders with Juhoon harshly since he was standing inside. The impact even had Juhoon stumbling.

You held his arm to stabilise him.

"You okay?" A concerned voice took over your sulky one. You grew hate for those immature kids who very rudely ignored your boyfriend's presence.

"Those dudes should watch where they're going!" You whisper-shouted and stared at the backs of their moving heads in disgust.

Looking back at your boyfriend, Realization hits you.

You halted in your tracks.

He does too but examines you in the process

"What happened?"

You slightly tighten your hold around the plastic cup in your hand, making it bend a bit in the process.

You were aware of Juhoon looking out for you at all times but his energy felt different.

You could sense a bit of jealousy from his end.

"This is the first time a guy has ever let his girlfriend stand on the outside. I'm just surprised."

Juhoon smirked.

"It was for your own good. Don't worry."

He fixes your jacket.

The location of the next hangout was nothing too crazy. Just the kitchen counter where you were decorating a snack platter to munch on.

Reason?

Decorations shouldn't need a reason. You just do it because you want to.

While your hands worked on the voluntary task, You were starting to get more conscious.

Conscious of Juhoon's presence, who was surprisingly very close to you.

Normally at days like these, he would be scrolling for a movie and showing you random reels that you might find relatable.

It was cute, it was light-hearted since it never once felt like you guys were dating.

It always felt like a normal hangout, and the experience was just as good as going out on a fancy date in a five-star restaurant.

Or even better.

But that's subjective because in any condition, being around him was your top priority.

Movie dates were common, Even if it were indoors.

You always watch at least one movie or some episodes of an ongoing series with Juhoon. Not on the TV, but on the phone.

Simply lying down next to each other with little to no distance in between, having his arm cramp from how long he willingly decides to hold up the device was more than just a gentlemanly move.

You try to take the phone back as you don't want him to strain his muscles.

He will readjust and switch his hands, but won't ever let the phone come into your hands until the content is over.

Maybe it's because you overthink a lot of small things.

Or maybe it's your boyfriend who never listens to you when the outcome seeks his benefit.

So today, you decided to watch something on the complicated smart Television in your room.

So he can have the comfort of his wrist in a good condition.

Hence, here you are, still assorting gummies by colour.

The assortion was not helping you from being unaware on the fact that he hasn't said a word upon arriving at your place.

He hadn't spoken but the more crazy thing was,

He kept looking at you.

Especially your ears.

You felt so still under his gaze, you could feel your temple get sweaty.

To hide it, you tucked your strands of hair behind and brought it front out of confusion for about 4 times in the span of 10 minutes.

He usually never intently looks at you like this.

Or maybe you just never noticed that he always did in secret.

You tried to divert your mind by opening a bag of chips roughly. All because the packaging was done like it held some type of limited-edition treasure that shouldn't be opened.

"Isn't it going to break?"

Your hands froze, thinking that he was actually talking about the snack.

"No, they might fly all over the place, but I don't think they will break—" You got cut off as you made a foreshadow.

"Not the chips."

The packet burst open, and it clearly made a mess on the counter with scattered potato chips and sprinkles of salt, proving your earlier words.

"I meant the earrings." He says clearly, his vision never shifting from your beautiful side profile.

"My earrings?" You said out of confusion, whilst picking up some chips that had fallen on the counter.

"They're in your pockets."

You realised now and dramatically gasped, first from all the mess you had made and then at what your Juhoon pointed out.

"You're right!" You clapped.

Your fingers were covered in chip dust.

Your mind worked faster than your body fortunately when you decided to wash those fingers.

They were only somewhat dry after you chose to wipe your palms on your clothes.

Bad habits die hard.

You dug your hand inside the pocket of your jeans and removed the two shiny pair of earrings.

You placed them on the counter, checking if any piece was broken or twisted.

Upon inspection, they looked normal.

"They're still good. Thankfully." A nod of satisfaction came from you.

You took hold of one of them and easily wore it on your ear, the side facing away from him.

Finally, with much steadier hands, your earring was secured in place.

Only on one side though.

You were about to take the other earring from the counter when you feel warmth of the back of your hand.

It was Juhoon's.

He prevented you from taking it by simply placing his own palm on top of your hand.

"I'll help you with this one"

He says lowly while looking deep into your eyes.

He knew the earring was sharp on the edges and tried his best to not accidentally slam his hand into yours so it touched the pointed metal.

He gently shifted your hand away, taking the small accessory in his fingers.

You look at him in silent confusion.

Still, your heart that was beating louder than ever was anything but quiet.

"Oh, yeah sure." an awkward chuckle escaped your mouth.

You looked in the direction ahead of you, unable to meet your boyfriend's new glare.

Having Juhoon put your earring on you was not on your bingo list, but there wasn't anything to complain over.

Once you stood still, his hand reaches out.

Some of your hair that was forward was gently tucked behind your ear by him, his slender hands brushed against your cheek in the process.

He comes in one step closer.

Surprised by his boldness, you don't notice it, but your ears slowly feel the rush of blood tinting the skin red.

He lightly holds your earlobe in between his thumb and index. He held it like the touch wasn't even there but it most definitely was.

Even though he only hovered a bit over the skin, the tips of his fingers could feel the heat from you.

It was impossible to imagine, but he knew you can get ticklish when your ear gets concerned in action.

He tried his best not to make you feel uncomfortable.

His other free hand rises, the one where the earring was set in his palm.

He carefully proceeded to imprint the other earring inside your ear.

The piercing made it easy for him to do his task smoothely. Obviously.

But he deliberately does it slower than anything on planet earth.

First thing was the proximity.

His constant breathing left warmth on your exposed neck and it was killing you.

You managed to get chills since such a move was never done by him. To be this close? You never imagined to for the next 5 months.

It was crazy enough to say that you've never even kissed this guy and yet all you're thinking of is how to stop yourself from doing it.

He drags the stopper behind your ear and locks the earring in place, his job now finished.

Maybe still unfinished.

He never took his gaze off of you.

His thoughts divert back to the incident earlier today when he sees your earring, now falling delicately alongside your face.

His fingers turned on their own and rested on your jewel. He played around with the trinkets of glimmering silver work.

He notices the faint red on the upper part of your ear.

He doesn't do anything other than divert his vision so that you were the only thing he was looking at now other than the earring.

Sensing the very quiet mood, you decided upon a small joke that could help start a conversation.

However, He was in no mood for a small chit chat.

"I'm guessing you really like the earrings..." You chuckled softly thinking he would do the same like he often does.

He doesn't say anything.

His fingers rub against your accessory, as if trying to get rid of the touch gained from the guy you encountered earlier.

His jealousy was slowly taking over his calm.

You cleared your throat.

"I'm glad both of the earrings are safe, I should be careful the next time I walk on the road." You joked again, assuming that he didn't hear you for the first time.

You assumed wrong, because he had definitely heard you loud and clear.

Especially your recent choice of words.

His eyebrows furrowed.

Juhoon knew you were referring to the man who had been disrupting his peace ever since you met him.

The one who returned your belongings so you can now be able to say that you're grateful for having them intact, even after a moment of crisis.

Finding out your favourite pair of jewelry almost got lost on the sidewalk wasn't the biggest of the crisis.

It was the unsteady glare you exchanged with the stranger that came to Juhoon's notice.

His fingers remained on your earlobe but they opened up more and started reaching out to come in contact with your jaw.

"I can buy you new ones if they get lost, so don't go looking back on what happened today." He says lowly.

You sensed the change in tone.

You've never seen him like this, such straightforwardness.

It was charismatic, too much so that you still weren't able to meet his eyes. The ones holding heavy jealousy inside.

"You've been acting a bit different." You awkwardly chuckle, scrunching your shoulder. His light touch made you squirm.

A spot on your skin that made you ticklish, he was very well aware of that but he didn't take back his hand.

Juhoon was slowly loosening the strings.

He leans and lazily says, his voice almost a whisper

"Oh yeah?"

You gulped.

"No..." You thought he got annoyed. Who wouldn't be?

If someone calls out on your behavioural state, maybe you would be annoyed too.

But that wasn't Juhoon's concern as his eyes trailed somewhere lower your eyes.

"I didn't mean it in that wa—"

A hand fully wraps around your nape, you can feel the direction of your head turning towards him by control and the next thing you knew,

His lips were on yours.

Your hands were in the air, unable to process.

You promised yourself that if anything happens during your first kiss, you will not freak out and stand like a statue.

You failed.

There are two reasons to why you failed.

First reason was Kim Juhoon.

The second reason was also Kim Juhoon but in his new element.

He notices that you're not reacting to his move, and it would be a disappointment if he didn't make you freak out even more.

He proceeds to hold your waist and turn you around.

Your back clashed against the smoothened marble counter, He was too engrossed in connecting his lips to yours.

He was surprisingly, good?

He knew not to overdo it.

His pacing was slow, as if making you conscious of the situation you were entangled in with him.

Then your senses came to you.

You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away, breaking the contact.

His hands never left you.

You pursed your own lips that had traces of his.

You took him in with your vision, eyes heavy and his gaze like a safety hazard awaiting your trespass.

He was taken aback himself, at himself and at you.

He never knew he would pull up with such boldness but he had no idea why you would distance yourself from it.

He considered himself, his intrusive thoughts shouldn't have come in the way, maybe it made you uncomfortable.

Maybe it was not the time.

But why was this so nerve-wracking?

Why did it twist something in your stomach, something you couldn't name.

Something was waiting inside you to come out in the form of your reaction towards his action.

But for your own sake, he was your boyfriend. Not a stranger.

He was yours.

His hand was coming loose from your waist in defeat.

It was now or never.

Fuck it.

You grabbed his nape and pulled him back unto you as regret and urge took over you.

Your back dug more against the hard marble behind you but you couldn't care less.

His heavy eyes widened.

Juhoon's hand that had become loose on your waist suddenly tightened. He succeeded in pressing his lips against yours again.

His other hand supported him, being careful not to fall on you by holding the counter right beside your waist.

This being the most skinship shared between the both of you, it was surprising to know that it wasn't ever done in the past.

The energy in the kiss was equal from both sides.

Your hands were wrapped around his nape cautiously.

His hand on your waist was tender, and the other on your jaw was gentle as he tugged on your earrings occasionally during the kiss.

Eyes were closed and your head felt lightweighted.

You should've been aware of his jealousy, which resulted in such possessiveness. It was never that serious but when he becomes the one initiating skinship, you knew it was.

You felt what it was like to be so clueless, like half the male population when they get scolded by their girlfriends for not catching hints.

Parallel thoughts were shared, and neither of you had the will to pull back after being so deprived of each other's touch.

He takes a step closer, enclosing the distance.

Unfortunately, he steps on a chip on the ground that was there thanks to your unboxing skills.

The crunch pulls you of the trance of his lips but he was the one who stops first.

He pulled back and immediately hid his face in your shoulder, gripping the counter behind you with both hands now.

You exhaled deeply and felt the weight of his forehead on your shoulder.

There he was, back to being the shy guy he was.

You were still processing the situation after everything.

Your hands travelled from his nape to his shoulders to lightly give them a pat.

Juhoon closes his eyes and refuses to look up out of embarassment.

After a good minute, a soft chuckle escapes your pink lips.

"Are you... okay?"

He shooks his head whilst still leaning against your shoulder.

You understood his case, he was probably rethinking his decisions and questioning himself for his thoughts of jealousy.

"I'm not okay." He sighs.

His head slowly rises as he looks at you with his face only centimetres away from yours.

"Did I do it right?" He asked you hesitantly.

You blinked twice and then let out a good giggle, he knows you had been craving such an interaction.

He had been the only one who couldn't initiate love due to his timidness. Now that his jealousy allowed him to, he sought your thoughts.

"I'm not sure." You replied in a teasing tone, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

After a beat, you managed to make him crack a smile.

One of his hands rises and gently caresses your precious earring.

"Well then... What if I did it again?" He playfully says.

"Did what?" You tilt your head.

"This."

He leans in to kiss you one more time.

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