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Jake is absolutely devoid of any intellectual depth. Sometimes you watch him stare at the microwave for two minutes, genuinely waiting for it to tell him the time and you wonder if he was accepted here because he's an athlete or because the admissions office had a clerical error. But then the clothes come off and it's like his brain shuts down completely to reroute every ounce of his energy into his body.

He's an athlete with the kind of stamina that feels almost illegal, somehow you believe he actually doesn't think during sex, he doesn't have the capacity for it and that's why it’s so good. When he fucks you, he doesn’t do it with any finesse or romantic buildup, it’s more with the scary accuracy of a man who just knows how to fuck. He’ll have you in a mating press that pins the air right out of your chest, pressing his chest to yours.

He’ll maintain a pace that's unforgiving, an absolute marathoner's drive that leaves you sobbing, gripping the sheets and begging for him to stop or slow down just so you can breathe. He’ll make you squirt and then just keep going, fucking you so hard your vision tunnels and you black out for those precious seconds where your entire consciousness is just his name and the delicious drag of him inside you.

Mid fuck, as he's slamming into you with the same focus he uses to play football, he’ll suddenly slow his hips into a devastating grind that has you squirting all over his cock and pelvis but he doesn’t even notice and if he does, he doesn’t care cause he’s too busy pouting down at you.

"You're so mean to me," he whines in a strange mix of arousal and genuine hurt. "I saw you in the quad earlier and I—I waved and you—your pussy is amazing, babe—you just looked right at me and just...kept walking. You didn't even say hi."

You try to gasp out a response, maybe to tell him that acknowledging him in front of your dean’s list friends would be your social death but you can't get the words out. Every time you try to inhale, he just thrusts again so deep and hard, pounding the breath right out of your lungs.

Your head goes slack against the pillows and your moans are reduced to pathetic whimpers as he keeps fucking the sense right out of your head but he doesn't even care that you can't answer, it’s like he just keeps punishing you for being mean, his pout will turn into a focused snarl so he loses himself in your pussy again.

When he's finally done draining himself in your spent pussy, you’ve cum at least four times and his entire chest is wet and sticky from all your squirt and cum, he doesn't have the sense to ask if you liked it, it’s like he knows you did from how you lay there limp and still whimpering. He just collapses on top of you, looking like a content animal and it’s in these moments that he gets dangerous because he starts feeling emotions like he’s catching feelings again and when Jake feels emotions, he always tries to express them.

He brushes the hair off your forehead and he sighs.

"I'm really sick of the hiding, baby. Seriously. Let's just tell everyone. Let's go to the quad tomorrow and just...be us, you know? I don't want to be your little secret anymore. I want people to know we're like, the ultimate power couple."

A part of you wants to tell him you’re not even a couple but another part of you feels a sting of guilt, looking at his handsome but so vacant face, thinking maybe you're the shallow one for keeping him this hidden. You start to soften, ready to maybe suggest holding hands on the way to class and talking in the dining hall may not be so bad but then he continues and you watch his forehead furrow with genuine concern.

"Oh!, babe, I forgot to tell you this," he pipes up, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "I've been checking my bank app all weekend because I can't find my wallet anywhere. It's super weird, though. The bank keeps taking like, fifty or hundred bucks out of my account every few hours. I guess that's just, like, the bank taking the money out to keep it safe for me in the vault so I don't lose it if I lose my card? Pretty smart of them, right?"

The silence that follows is thick enough for you to choke on. You can only stare at him, waiting for him to say he’s just joking, waiting for him to tell you he knows that's just unauthorized charges from whoever stole his debit card but he's just smiling, genuinely pleased with how safe his money is.

You realize with a crushing sense of defeat, that you are absolutely never going public with him, at least not anytime soon. You just sigh and pull the sheets up over your face, managing to reach over to grab your clothes. "Yeah, Jake," you mutter into the fabric, already bracing yourself for the reality that his body is the only thing he'll ever be a genius at.

"I suggest you keep that bank situation to yourself. We're staying a secret until we graduate."

You’re not close to your roommates, certainly not close enough for this sort of… banter. You’re cordial yes, but they seem to be much closer to each other than they were to you. You’ve always struggled to make friends, your younger brother far surpassing you in that regard. He always overshadowed you. People always flocked to him, and you didn’t begrudge him for it—not everyone can be as amazing as your little brother, even you. 

But still you had hoped you’d be able to branch out and make friends now that you’ve moved out of your childhood home and your every waking moment didn’t need to be dedicated to him—in fact it was good for him that it wasn’t. 

But those hopes are long dead and buried. Caleb refused to let you go. He has followed you out of your home and into this new life you thought you could forge for yourself, and did it better than you like always. 

Though your roommates regarded you with barely veiled judgement for apparently romancing a teenage boy, they of course did not project that same judgement on him. In their eyes, he was this vibrant, lovable, brilliant boy who fell into the trap of a predatory older woman. 

You get it. You really do. You’d think the same if you were them, but how can you explain yourself without making everything worse? No, that would only ruin both you and your brother’s lives. The year is almost over anyway, you just have to bear it for a little while longer… you just wish Caleb didn’t love playing the role of the hapless young boy in love with the older woman so much—maybe that’s even how he saw himself, your foolish didi. 

“Yeah, he’s definitely too young for me too.” Your other roommate, Mia, snorts loudly. “But if you ever decide to rent him out, I’d love to sample whatever he’s cooking. Maybe take him to class with me one day. He’s so big and buff I can probably get him to intimidate that asshole professor into giving me that A I deserve.”

“Oh yeah, I nearly shit my pants that first day when he came in all mad about the house being too much of a mess for his precious jiejie.” Dan laughs then looks at you sideways. “You really got the poor guy wrapped around your little finger. You must be riding his dick good.” 

Every word of praise Caleb gets is juxtaposed with looks of derision and judgement thrown at you, and you can practically hear what they’re thinking—-What’s wrong with her? Can’t she find a boyfriend her own age? How long has she even known him for? This year? Last year? Since he was a kid? 

“Oh, I bet that’s big too.” Lina giggles, “Does he know how to use it or do you have to do all the work, jiejie?” 

You feel sick. You want to slap her, scream at them all, forbid them from ever talking about you or Caleb ever again. They don’t know the half of it. Who are they to judge? They don’t understand! You’re doing this for him!

You hear their voices screaming loudly in your head, and you wish you could defend yourself. You wish you could tell them the truth—that you’re trying your best to stop this relationship, but that would only transform their judgement into condemnation, their disgust into horror. 

Her own little brother? What did she do to him? How could he have turned out this way? 

Their reactions now are nothing compared to what would happen if the truth ever gets out. You know that. 

And yet every accusatory look and pointed word they throw at you lands on your chest like a stone, stacking one over the other, crushing you under them. They don’t know how many times you’ve told yourself this has to stop, only for Caleb’s tears and soft little pleas to break you. 

You’d do anything to make this stop. 

Caleb on the other hand is reveling in it. 

He walks into the room just then, a large grin on his face, laughing off their banter as if they’re old friends. He’s been hanging around your roommates more and more now, when at the start he’d do anything to get you alone. He’s enjoying the boyfriend act too much. He loves that he gets to kiss you and touch you and love on you right in the open. You tell him it’s natural that when you love someone you want to show off that love and that’s why it feels good to him but that’s the only reason why—that when he finds a girlfriend he’ll see that doing all these things with her will feel just as good, better even! But Caleb brushes you off, mumbling about how silly his jiejie is and how he’ll never want to do this with anyone else. 

“I can cook for you guys, and I can definitely give that professor a piece of your mind, Mia.” Caleb says, stepping up behind you and wrapping you in his arms. “But my dick is only—”

“Caleb!” You hiss, smacking his hands off you. 

“I’m kidding, jie.” He laughs, the others laughing with him—laugh at you. Is he doing this on purpose just to humiliate you? Punish you for being such a worthless big sister? 

Seeing red, you shove him into your room, Dan’s voice ringing out just as you slam the door shut. “Don’t wear him out too much, jiejie!” 

“What the hell was that, brat?” You hiss at him. 

“Just messing around with our friends, jiejie.” He pouts at your outrage. 

“They’re not our friends!” You whisper shout, “They’re not your friends and they’re certainly not my friends.” 

“Not with that attitude.” He quips and you glare at him. “You think this is funny? Do you not see the way they look at me because they think we’re together? They look at me like I fucking groomed you!”

His eyes widen at that. “They don’t. We’re all just having fun—”

“At my expense! But it’s fine for you because you're the victim and I’m the predator, right?”

“No!” He shakes his head harshly. “I didn’t know—” 

“Of course not. You are too busy playing house to see the way they really look at us..” You grit, “Do you have any idea what they’ll do and say to me if they find out you’re my little brother?” 

“They won’t know.” He vows, “I won’t tell, I promise.” 

“Oh, you promise?” You bark out a laugh, “What about your promise to get into college and date a girl? Instead you’re spending all your time here, making a joke out of me.”

“I am studying hard, I swear! I’m top of my class, you know that.” He reasons with you, then hesitates, “As for the girlfriend thing… I told you I’m not confident enough yet.” 

Of course. This bullshit again. 

Caleb has been relentless about this for weeks—not being ready, needing you to guide him, refusing to even date until he’s sure he can satisfy a girl fully. He has already kissed you, ate you out, fingered you—but he still wants more. He wants sex… and he’s adamant that only your pussy will do. 

It’s the only part of you that you haven’t sacrificed for him yet, and you can’t bring yourself to. It’s wrong. All of this is wrong but having sex… crossing that line in the sand, it would make it all real—your unforgivable sin.  

“You don’t need to be a sex god to get a girlfriend, Caleb.” You tell him impatiently. 

“I’m not asking to be a sex god but you saw for yourself how bad I was.” The words come out of his mouth painfully, and that ugly look of self-doubt is on his face again. “What if I can’t make my girlfriend cum? What if she laughs at me the second I push inside her and I finish in two seconds like some pathetic loser?”

“You’ll live. Plenty of guys out there never make their girlfriends cum and they’re dating just fine.”

Caleb scoffs, staring at you incredulously. “How can you say that, jiejie? You want your baby brother to be known as the loser who can’t even satisfy his own girl? That’s so mean.” 

An ugly part of you almost says yes—why should you teach him how to perform just so he would go and please some other girl? Why does she get to reap what you’ve shed tears and blood to sow? 

But the thought is vile. Monstrous. You swallow it down your throat and hope to never taste it on your tongue again. 

Instead you reach for him, pulling him in by the collar and kissing him before he can whine again. He melts instantly, a hungry little noise slipping from him as he kisses you back like he’s been waiting for it all this time.

You push him backward until his knees hit your bed and he topples onto it, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. “I love it when you manhandle me, jie.” 

“Should I gag you too?” You huff, eyebrows raised.

A look of panic overtakes his face and he shakes his head so fast his hair flops into his eyes. “No, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you.”

You almost laugh. Caleb loves running his mouth. Of course, he doesn’t like the idea of a gag.

“Promise?” You lean over him, one hand braced on the bed beside him. He immediately leans in, trying to chase your lips, but you press a palm flat to his chest, holding him down. “Caleb?”

“Huh?” His gaze is locked onto your mouth, not paying attention to anything you’ve said.

“Promise you’ll be a good boy.”

“I promise.” He whines, biting his own lip. “I’ll be so, so good, jiejie. Please—”

But you don’t give him mercy, partly because this is one of the few times the brat will actually listen to you and partly because you enjoy this part more than you’d ever admit. “Promise you’ll listen.”

“I promise.” He whines again, practically squirming on the bed, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips again and again. “I’ll listen to everything. Just… please.”

“Good boy.” You straighten up and step back.

The second you pull away he lets out a broken whimper, his hands reaching to try to stop you. “Where are you going, jie? I promised, didn’t I? You can’t leave me like this.”

You scoff, ignoring him and walking towards your closet. When has his promises meant anything? He’ll say anything in the moment just to get his dick wet but haggle and bargain when it’s time for you to collect the fee. 

You crouch down, reaching for the back of your closet and dig out a plain black box containing an item you’d purchased just for this occasion. You knew Caleb wouldn’t give up on this whole sex idea, and you also knew you were not going to give in either. So this little toy was your way to shut him up. 

“I got you something, baby.” You grin as you carry it back to the bed. “Since you won’t shut up about learning how to have sex, I thought this might help you practice.”

Caleb’s thick eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, watching suspiciously as you open the box and pull out the realistic looking fleshlight, sputtering like an idiot when it comes into full view.

“W-what is that, jiejie?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what it is. I’m sure you’re seen one of these in that porn that has rotted your brain.” You mumble, “It’s a fleshlight. A pocket pussy. Something for you to fuck and get in that practice.”

“Seiously, jiejie?” He huffs, looking at the item in offense. “Buying your didi this perverted toy instead of taking care of me like a good big sister?”

You laugh incredulously. “Practicing with this toy is a hundred times less perverted than trying to use your own sister’s pussy to learn to have sex, brat.”

“But I want my sister’s pussy.” He whines, “I only want jiejie’s pussy… please? I’ll be so gentle, I swear on everything. Just once. I need you so bad it actually hurts, jie. Don’t do this to me…”

“I’m not doing anything to you. I’ve done nothing but give into your desires despite my better judgement but I am not budging on this.” You say, firmer than you feel. “No matter how much you cry about it, brat. It’s either this or nothing.”

Caleb’s lower lip justs out. “Then at least let me finger you?” He begs, both hands reaching for you. “Please, jiejie? I need to practice on the real thing. This toy won’t feel right. It won’t be warm or soft and it won’t make all the pretty noises you do.” His eyes glaze over, and you know the pervert is recalling those exact memories. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise. I’ll do anything—anything you want. Just let me feel you…”

“I want you to finger this.” You answer, holding the toy out and pointing the soft entrance toward him.

He shakes his head vehemently. “Why do I have to touch that when you’re right here? It’s not fair…You're so close and warm and pretty and it’s driving me crazy. Please don’t make me use a toy. I’ll be good. I swear I’ll be your perfect boy…”

How can he be your perfect boy when he won’t even listen to anything you ask him to do? Still, you know your brother. You anticipated his resistance, and you have an idea that might tempt him. 

You grab the lube despite his protests and squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers before you start touching the toy yourself—slowly swirling your slick fingers around the soft lips and clit in little circles designed to look inviting. “See baby? This is how you should touch a girl to make her feel good.” 

Caleb’s breath hitches as he watches, and you know you’ve got his attention despite the way his brows furrow. “I don’t…”

“You just rub around here slowly just like I taught you, getting her nice and relaxed and wet for you.” You purr, feeling your own pussy start to tingle. 

“I know. You moan so prettily when I rub your little clit, jie.” He groans, his pants tightening. “I wanna touch it so bad.” 

“Pretend this is me, baby.” You offer, running your fingers up and down the slit. “Touch it how you want to touch me.” You know you shouldn’t encourage him like this, but it’s the only way he’ll give in.

But he still resists. “But it’s not you. It’s not even the same color as your skin.” 

You freeze then, suddenly painfully self-conscious, and say in a small voice. “I said imagine, Caleb. Besides… my pussy is a little darker than the rest of me anyway.”

His breath hitches sharply and he sits up straighter, listening intently.

“Yeah?” He breathes, squirming. “It looks like that? Tell me more, jiejie, please? No—show me. I wanna see so bad. I know yours will be perfect. Prettier than anything. Just once? I’ll die if you don’t show me. Please, jiejie… I’ll be so, so good if you let me look…”

You shake your head, excitement and anxiety churning in your stomach. Despite how wrong this whole thing is, it’s nice to think that he’s this excited to just get a glimpse of you, and that maybe he might even think that part of you is pretty… but you shouldn’t, and it’s not just because it’s wrong. 

You’re scared you’d see a look of disappointment or even repulsion in his eyes. It’s not that you think you’re ugly down there. You know vaginas come in all shapes and sizes, but you also know it’s not the perfect little pink petal he’s used to seeing in his porn, and a less than enthusiastic reaction would forever scar you. 

“This is my pussy, remember?” You say, redirecting his attention as you bring the fleshlight down and press the length of it against your lower belly. You angle it with the entrance facing down so that from Caleb’s view it looks exactly like you’re touching yourself. 

“I feel so empty, baby…” You moan, pushing one finger inside the tight toy, gasping softly as if the toy were actually you. But you’re all empty, clenching around nothing, while you fuck the toy with your finger. Your hips rock in a slow grind against the silicone and the mattress, letting the motion make the illusion even filthier.

“Jiejie… fuck—” Caleb groans, eyes locked on your face while his hand palms his fully hard cock through his pants. 

You keep going, coaxing him closer with every sound you make. “You want to please your girlfriend, don’t you, baby?” Another soft, needy moan escapes as you curl your finger inside the toy and rub circles over the little silicone clit with your thumb. “You have to learn how to make her feel good… how to stretch her open… how to get her dripping and desperate for you.”

The words burn on your tongue, but you swallow down the shame. This is for him. All of it. Once he gets the hang of it, once he runs out of excuses and finally finds a real girlfriend who can give him everything he’s begging for, this will stop. 

Caleb makes a broken, desperate sound and pushes forward, mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue slides against yours as his hand replaces yours on the fleshlight, long fingers rubbing the silicone eagerly.

“Yes, yes, I want that so bad.” He pants against your lips, trembling with need. “Can I do it, jiejie? Can I finger you? All the way this time?”

You nod, heart hammering in your ribcage. “Yes, baby. But go slow.”

He groans and pushes one thick finger into the slick toy. His eyes never leave your face, watching every micro-expression as if he would see you react to the intrusion. And you do. You feel the phantom finger as he slowly pumps in and out, curling exactly the way you showed him, the wet, obscene sounds of it filling the quiet room.

“Fuck… so tight.” He groans, forehead pressed to yours, breath coming out hot and fast. “Is this how you’d feel inside? So wet and tight for me, jiejie?”

Heat floods your core so suddenly you have to bite your lip to keep the loud moan contained. “Deeper.” You pant, voice hoarse. “Add another finger, didi. Stretch me out.”

His eyes burn with hunger and he slides a second finger into you—into the toy. His thumb circles the clit in eager clumsy strokes as the wet squelch of his fingers grows faster. You can see the front of his pants twitching, his cock straining hard against the fabric, and the sight sends another helpless rush of heat through you.

“You’re such a tease, jie,” Caleb groans, voice strained and his fingers set a wild pace. “Know how much I want you, torturing me like this…”

“Gentle, baby. It’s too much.” You grab his wrist, slowing his movements down and guiding him, trying to not let him get too into his own head. “Don’t be too rough. It’s sensitive.” 

“Sorry…” His cheeks flush a deeper, prettier red, lids drooping heavy with lust. “I’m just… really excited. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long.”

You bite your lip, trying not to think too much about what he’s saying. It’s all hormones and misplaced lust. You’ll prove it to him… and to yourself. You just have to show him the way. 

His two fingers pump steadily into the fleshlight now, while his thumb continues to circle the silicone clit in fervent strokes. “Fuck, jiejie…It’s sucking me in so tightly like it doesn’t want to let go. Is this how your pussy would feel? This hot and wet around my fingers? God, makes me want you even more.”

Fuck. 

Your empty cunt twitches at his words, clenching around nothing even as your mind spirals and your heart drowns in guilt. But in this moment, your pussy is the one in control and you can’t stop the way your hips rock in tiny motions in response, grinding yourself against the toy that is swallowing his fingers in your place. 

Caleb’s eyes widen at the frustrated whine that leaves your mouth, and he lets out a breathy laugh. “You like it, jiejie? Do you like my fingers inside you like this? Tell me… please. I need to know how to make you feel good.”

“Already feel so good, didi…” You cry out, barely in control of the words leaving your mouth. “Filling me up so good…”

The second the praise leaves your lips, Caleb loses it. He rushes forward, one hand still buried in the fleshlight as he pushes you flat onto your back. “I can’t wait anymore, jiejie… I’m sorry—I’ll be a good boy next time, I swear. But I need it now. I’ve been waiting so long…”

His free hand fumbles with the waistband of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock, so thick and flushed dark. It looks painful and you almost feel sorry for him. 

He lines himself up with the toy, making sure it’s still pressed tight against your lower belly, in line with your pussy. “Can I put it in now?” Can I fuck you, please? You got me so horny, I’m gonna explode.”

“Slow—” You barely start to say before he sinks into the toy, letting out a strangled noise as he bottoms out. The motion rocks the fleshlight against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that makes your back arch.

His free hand grabs your thigh, hiking it up around his waist as he sets a fast pace immediately, hips snapping forward in desperate strokes as if he’s actually fucking you.

“Caleb!” You shout, your body jostled back and forth with every thrust of his hips, one had curling in his hair and pulling at it tightly. “I said slow!”

If he was really fucking you, your pussy would have been destroyed. 

“Sorry, sorry—can’t help it—-” He cries but doesn’t stop, his hand on your hip keeping your leg locked around him and his own hips driving you into the bed, trapping you under him. You can do nothing but stare up at his large frame blocking out the rest of the world, his muscles tensing in his effort, sweat beading at his gorgeous skin, his face a scrunched up mask of ecstasy. 

He’s so big, your little brother, that if he wanted to, he could ruin you. Instead, it’s pretty whimpers that spill from his lips and a lost, helpless look in his eyes as he tries to make sense of everything he’s feeling. Your baby looks at you like a feral beast and you’re the one holding his leash. 

“Jiejie… fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.” He gasps, forehead dropping to rest against yours, his hot, desperate breaths fanning across your face. “Tell me I’m making you feel good—please, tell me I’m your good boy…”

The wet squelch of the toy taking his cock again and again fills your ears, every thrust grinding the base of the fleshlight every so slightly against your aching clit, teasing you with friction you don’t want and isn’t nearly enough at the same time.

You bite your lip hard, shame and heat twisting together in your belly.

“Yes, baby.” You moan, the praise spilling from your lips. “You’re doing so good… such a good boy.”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m jiejie’s good boy—fuck! Fuck, I’m so close.” A pathetic whimper tears out of him and he loses his rhythm, moans now falling freely from his mouth, bouncing off the thin walls. “I’m so sorry… so close—-can’t help it. I'm sorry—I’m sorry! Please!”

Your stomach drops, suddenly remembering that your roommates are right outside and can probably hear the way he’s screaming for you. Panicking, you grab the hem of his shirt and yank it up, stuffing it into his open mouth. “Quiet! They’ll hear you.” 

He scowls, upset at the makeshift gag, and in response, he fucks the toy harder, as if he can punish you through it, his grunts and groans muffled against the now wet fabric. 

“Be good, baby. You wanna be good, don’t you?” 

His eyes soften ever so slightly, his moans taking on a desperate edge once more. 

“That’s right. You’re my good boy. You’ll keep it down and cum in your little toy for me, won’t you?” You purr and suddenly his body locks up, his eyes widening as he sits on his haunches and yanks off the fleshlight. His hand jerks his cock a couple of times before warm sticky ropes shoot from it, landing on the bare skin of your thighs in messy lines. 

You give him a moment to collect himself before you chastise him, the burn of unfulfilled desire lending heat to your words. “Caleb! I told you to stop doing tha—”

But the words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your shorts and rips them off, lifting your panties up and sliding his cock under them, trapping it between your pussy and the fabric.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You shriek as he continues manhandling you, pushing your thighs together so his cock is nice and snug between them. In a desperate motion, he pushes forward, going again before his cum has even cooled on your skin.

“Forget the stupid toy, I wanna feel you, jie. Feel your skin, your pussy—” He fucks your thighs, his cock sliding in and out between them, rubbing against your wet pussy. “This is a better way to learn to fuck, yeah? I’ll make you cum this time. I won’t disappoint you. I can take care of you.” He babbles, but you can barely fight him when the grind of his hard cock against your poor needy pussy makes stars light up behind your eyelids. 

You’re so close and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s taking this out of you without permission. 

“You’re being bad again, Caleb. Stop this now.” You stutter, but he shakes his head, driving his cock between your legs harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Can’t think straight.” He whines, “Just one more, please? I can’t stop yet…”

His hips slap against your ass, and you’re mortified with how close to orgasm you’re getting, horrified that you might cum untouched like this. 

As if he can hear your thoughts, Caleb’s hands slide under your shirt, large and greedy as they cup your breasts. 

“Caleb, stop it!” You croak, hoping he would because you certainly can’t stop the way you’re arching into his hand as he kneads your soft flesh, his thumbs dragging across your painfully stiff nipples.

“They’re gonna hear you, jiejie.” Caleb pants, and your frustrated shout is the last sound you let out before Caleb’s fingers shove into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and making you drool around the digits. 

“That’s it. You’re so good to me, jie. I’ll make you feel good too. I promise.” He moans, delirious, his touch overwhelming on your pussy, your chest, your mouth—it’s like he’s claiming every part of you. “I’m so close already. I can’t help myself. You drive me crazy. I’m—ah—jie, I’m gonna—”

His teeth sink into the flesh of your thigh which is propped up on his shoulder, the sharp sting overwhelming your senses until you can’t tell pleasure from pain. You press your face in the pillow, muffling your wretched cries against it as you clench around nothing, cumming untouched, your body convulsing under him. 

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He groans, eyes rolling back for a moment before he splays your legs open, moving his dick so the head is completely covered by your panties, distorting the fabric as he grinds himself against your slick and sensitive flesh, overstimulating you. 

Luckily, despite all your “training”, it doesn’t take much for Caleb to cum, just the obscene sight is enough to push him over the edge. He cums inside your panties, making them suddenly ten times more wet and sticky, the rest of it landing uncomfortably on your pussy. 

“Fuck—” He grunts, staring right at the mess he’s made. “Can I see? Just a small peak. Wanna know what your pussy looks like covered in my cum, jie.”

You want to slap him, first for not asking for permission to cum right on your pussy then for daring to ask if he could see what he’s done… but most of all for making you so disgustingly horny that you need more. 

“No.” You growl, “Take your cock out and touch me with your fingers. Get me off or I’ll never let you touch me ever again.” 

His eyes widen and he quickly replaces his cock with his fingers, rubbing the lewd mess of his arousal and yours across your flesh, the pads of his fingers pressing it into your clit again and again. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, jie.” He grunts, leaning down so he could close his mouth around your nipple poking through your shirt, sucking on it so harshly you wouldn’t have been able to push him away even if you tried. 

“So sensitive…” He moans around your nipple, “Your pussy is fluttering under my fingers… Do you like it as much as I do, jie? Does it turn you on to be covered with my cum like this?”

You can only let out strangled noises which seem to satisfy neither of you. He doubles down on his effort, his fingers flicking your clit mercilessly as he sucks and kisses your breasts, leaving the fabric wet and almost see-through with his drool. 

“Can I see, jiejie?” He asks urgently, his free hand bunching up your shirt. “Please wanna see them. Wanna kiss them. Bite them. Cover them in marks. Please.” 

“Caleb, shut up.” You hiss, impatient and strung out. 

Needing him to make you cum already, you pull your shirt up yourself, forgetting your insecurities in the heat of the moment, just needing to feel the wet heat of his lips around you. 

But he just stares at you, his mouth hanging open and his fingers halting. “Wow, jiejie, you’re—”

You don’t let him finish his sentence, pushing his head down to your chest. “Be a good boy.” Is all you tell him and he’s going, his mouth wrapping around your perked nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud, his fingers rubbing your slit in tight circles that make you see white. 

It doesn’t take long after that for you to reach your second orgasm, your back arching clean off the bed, your chest pushed further into his waiting and wanting mouth as your poor pussy clenches and contracts around nothing, your arousal flushing through you, only barely sating the overwhelming emptiness inside of you. 

But you can’t ask for more. You can’t want more. You can’t want him. He’s your brother for god’s sake. What are you doing? What is he doing to you? 

You slump back onto the bed with a groan, your heavy arms pushing at his broad shoulders, your mouth making incomprehensible noises of protest as you urge him to stop. And finally he does, removing his fingers from between your legs but his mouth stays on your chest, lazily sucking on your nipple as his body slumps over yours, your sweat, saliva and cum all mingling together in a mess that is almost as disgusting as your sin. 

Caleb says something but his voice is muffled. You look down and see him looking up at you, eyes big and guileless, his lips wrapped around your nipple as he sucks on it like a baby. You feel your stomach turn. 

This is your baby brother. You’ve practically raised him for fuck’s sake. It’s more than incesteous. This is abominable. It’s depraved. He’s your little baby looking for comfort and love in the only place he has known to get it and you’ve horrifically failed in your role as an older sister—as his mother—to guide him through it. 

How much further can you sink? Can you not control yourself? How are you meant to save him when you crumble under his every misguided desire? You’re too weak. You’ve always been weak.

Slowly your senses come back to you, and you start making out his words, a resolute chant of ‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’

It makes you sick. 

You shove him back. 

“Jiejie—” He whines, but the words die in his mouth at the look on your face. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Go to grandma’s house, Caleb.” You tell him flatly, and his swollen lips turn down with a stubborn scowl. “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you here.” The words sound garbled to your own ears, so foreign on your tongue, and Caleb looks at you as if he doesn’t know what they mean. 

“What? Jie—”

“I don’t want you here.” You repeat, more steadily, bolder—like a suicide jumper finally daring to step up to the ledge. Caleb’s mouth slams shut, his lips wobbling and his eyes fill with tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t want you—” You start again and Caleb recoils, jerking off the bed as if he can distance himself from the words he doesn’t want to hear. “Why are you being so cruel?”

“Am I?” You ask, and the tiredness makes your voice sound emotionless. “You won’t listen to me. You don’t care about anything I say or how this all makes me feel. All you care about is what you want, Caleb. Do you even really love me?”

He looks at you in horror. “Of course, I do! I’ve never loved anyone else!”

“Then go.”

He stands there for a moment, his mouth opening and closing around words that never make it to you, hot tears streaming down his face.  You hear one singular sob before he turns away, rushing out the door. 

You hurt him, you know. You had to hurt him. 

You sit there in bed, staring after him. Only when you hear the front door slamming closed do you get off, dragging your feet to the shared bathroom, ignoring the disgusted looks of your roommates as they see your emotionless face following Caleb’s tearful exit. 

Your shower brings you no comfort, nothing does anymore, the evil has sunk too deep into your skin, drilled down to your bones. You’d have to break them open and suck the marrow out to be rid of it. 

_______________________

Caleb keeps his distance for two days. Two whole days of silence that slices you open and guts you, pulling your innards out and wrapping them so tight around your neck that you choke. But you don’t do anything about it, never try to reach out to him. Maybe if you die, Caleb will finally be free. 

But all the grief and guilt and shame in the world hasn’t managed to kill you off. Maybe because Caleb refuses to let you go. 

On the evening of the third day he comes crawling back, eyes swollen and voice hoarse as if he had been crying for the entire two days. You don’t doubt he was. You know you were—your blood dried off from all the tears you’ve cried and your voice nothing but a deathly whisper after two days of sobbing. You let him hold onto your broken body as he begs you, over and over, not to leave him. 

And you can’t. For as long as your wretched existence continues, you’ll always hold your arms open and let your little brother burrow back into the space he tore open in your chest the day he was born. 

After all, that’s how you got here in the first place, isn’t it? You’d do just about anything to not lose your brother. 

But just because he came back and just because you welcomed him, doesn’t mean that things are back to normal—neither the innocent normal of your life before or the new normal of this new sordid life.  

You exist around each other in a limbo where he still visits every weekend, still does your chores, still lies in bed at night with you, still touches you—but he can’t kiss you. He looks at you but his eyes don’t sparkle. He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

He flutters around your place like a broken songbird in a cage. You hate seeing him like this but he refuses to fly even when the door is held open for him. 

You don’t know what to do. Is letting him fuck you the only way he’ll be happy? Is giving yourself away to him completely and utterly the only way he’ll be satisfied? You don’t know. Sometimes, when you look at his miserable face and vacant eyes, you think you should just give him whatever he wants to make him happy again. And sometimes… sometimes you stare at his sleeping form, face scrunched up with a nightmare and fists clenched, and you look at your pillow and you think… maybe you should end it all. Maybe it’s too late to fix this. 

You hate yourself for both, but the idea of hurting your baby brother makes you want to rip off your nails and break off every bone in your hands before you ever lay them on him.

So when he comes to you one day with that crumpled up piece of paper clutched so tightly in his hands that they’ve turned white, you almost cry with relief. 

“If I accept this,” He asks, his face grim, “Will I lose you forever?”

With the acceptance letter to his dream college in his hands, your brother looks the most unhappy you’ve ever seen him. 

“You’ll never lose me, Caleb.” You confess, not knowing when exactly the words that should have been spoken so proudly turned so guilty—was it when you touched him? when you kissed him? when you let him cross the line over and over again and defile a relationship that should’ve been the purest of all? 

“Even if I say that I still love you?” He steps closer, almost as if he’s testing you, seeing if you prove yourself to be a liar. “Even if I will always love you?”

But you stand still—bowed and ashamed but still. “Even then.” 

He leans in more, and more and more, until his lips meet yours in a firm kiss. 

“Then I’ll go.” He promises, “And when I graduate, you'll be mine.”

a/n: this is ass y’all i’m sorry. Also fair warning mc is really gonna push caleb to hook up with another woman. it will definitely get pretty physical but i don’t know if i should take it all the way to sex or not. 

super important question. are you up for mc turning a bit dark like she did at the end where she is so at the end of her tether with him that she has thoughts of harming/killing him in order to save him/because she feels cornered by him but then feeling so bad about herself that she continues giving into him? examples would be her smothering him when he’s eating her out or spanking him. or should i keep her just guilty and self hating without lashing out at caleb?

Also follow me on Twitter i'm so lonely over there 😭 it's @wildernessunto1 or tumblr @wildernessuntothemselves

unprotected sex, gangbang, squirting, fingering, oral (f&m receiving), marathon sex (kinda), creampie, double vaginal penetration, spitting, face/throat fucking, let me know if i missed any.

The September air was still thick with the residual heat of summer but the breeze cutting through the quad was already carrying the first sharp hint of the ice that would soon define your semester. Two weeks into freshman year and the campus already felt smaller than the brochures had promised. In all honesty you felt suffocated by the weight of a legacy neither you nor Zoya could escape.

Zoya walked beside you, constantly twisting her fingers in the strap of her bag. "I haven't slept in like three days," she admitted in a strained voice. "Tryouts are next week and I swear I can feel my heart in my throat every time I see a pair of skates."

"Zoya, breathe," you said. "You've been training for this since we were six. You're more prepared than anyone else in that rink. Stop stressing."

Your friendship with Zoya was a constant bond forged long before you understood what a legacy even meant. Your mothers had met in the very halls of this university, dressed in the same blue and white uniforms you were now expected to fill. You had spent your childhood in the back of dance studios and cold arena bleachers, two shadows following the footsteps of women who had once been part of the university's most celebrated icons.

"I don't know how you're so calm," she glanced at you. "If I don't make the cut, my mom might actually disown me. Your mom isn't exactly going to be thrilled if you aren't on that roster, either."

You shrugged, feeling like the weight of the expectation had just become a dull ache you'd simply learned to live with. "I'm sure she'll manage. Besides, it's just a team. There are more important things than whether or not we look good in sequins and skates."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered as you both found a stone table in the quad, sitting next to each other while the noise of the campus humming around you. "They only take five girls each year. Five."

"Because they have to maintain the twenty girl balance, Zoy," you countered, squinting against the sun. "Five seniors graduated so they need five new freshman and you can only try out in your first year. It's simple math, not a conspiracy. It's no biggie."

Zoya went quiet then, her expression shifting from nervous to something more focused. She leaned into your space and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to pay attention.

"Have you heard the gist lately? In the dorms?" she asked. "It's not just about who's the best skater anymore. Everyone is talking about the tradition. The real one."

You felt an internal groan. "That rumor? Again?"

"They say the hockey team picks one girl from the five new recruits," she said with her eyes wide and dead serious. "One girl who has to give it up at the tryouts welcome party. That it's a requirement. A gangbang for the guys who run the rink."

You rolled your eyes and let a sharp, dismissive sound escape your throat. "Zoya, please. That is the most tired, misogynistic urban legend on this campus. It's locker room bullshit meant to scare us or make the guys feel like they have more power than they actually do. It's just a rumor. Stop letting it get in your head."

"Like for fucks sake. Am I meant to be excited at the thought of a bunch of guys fucking me?"

But Zoya didn't back down, if anything she just leaned into closer, darting her eyes around as if the very trees were wired. "I'm serious! It's not just some ghost story, I'm telling you. My roommate's cousin's TA has a niece who was the girl they picked last year."

You stopped mid sip of your drink and lowered it to look at her with mocking disappointment. You let the silence hang for a beat too long just so she could sit with what she just said, then you started repeating her words back to her, dripping your voice with deliberate sarcasm.

"So...let me get this straight," you began ticking the points off on your fingers. "Your roommate's...cousin's...TA's...niece?" You asked her and watched her resolve start to crumble at the corners of her mouth as the absurdity of the so called source finally hit the air.

"When you put it like that, it sounds—"

"It sounds like a game of telephone or Chinese whisper played by people who have spent way too much time inhaling zamboni fumes," you finished for her.

She let out a frustrated whine while reaching to grab your shoulders. "Shut up! You're so mean!" she laughed and started to shake you back and forth. Her grip was firm as she swung your body in rhythm with her protests. "Take me seriously! I'm trying to prepare us for potentially having to take dick!"

The physical drama of it was too much to resist, you really tried to keep your face stoic but the sight of Zoya looking so genuinely panicked over a fourth hand story about a TA's niece broke you. A bubble of laughter escaped and soon you were both giggling like the kids you used to be.

The week of tryouts had been a blur of synthetic light and the rhythmic scrape of steel on ice. For Zoya, it was a slow motion descent into madness, she was a whirlwind of nervous energy in the locker room, retying her laces until her fingertips were raw and changing her skates three separate times because she convinced herself the blades weren’t right. You had watched her from the bench, already laced up and ready, trying to offer a calm anchor in her storm of superstition.

When your turn finally came, you didn't really overthink it. You moved through the routines you'd practiced since you were tall enough to reach the rink boards, you remembered all the crossovers, the synchronized lunges, the power pulls. It was muscle memory at this point or a birthright clicking into place. To you, it wasn't a performance—it was more of another day at the office.

Now, a week later, the tension had migrated from the ice to the stifling atmosphere of Zoya's dorm room. You were sitting criss cross on her bed while your phones sat like two ticking time bombs on the mattress between you.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Zoya whispered, staring at the dark screens. "If I don't see an email in the next sixty seconds, I'm dropping out of college and moving to a farm."

"You hate dirt, Zoy. You'd last barely an hour," you muttered, trying to be calm even though your own pulse was beginning to thrum against your ribs.

Suddenly, both screens lit up simultaneously and two identical notifications from the university athletics department banner appeared.

Zoya shrieked, launching herself off the bed as if she'd been electrocuted. She paced the small rug with her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Okay. Okay, don't open it yet. We do this together."

You picked up your phone, your hands shaking but still steadier than hers and stood to meet her in the center of the room. "On three?"

"On three," she breathed as her finger hovered over the screen.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

The light of the screens reflected in your eyes as you both scanned the text.

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the 2026 Ice Girls roster..."

"WE GOT IN!" Zoya screamed, the words overlapping with your own as you read the confirmation out loud. She tackled you back onto the bed, you didn't even get through the second sentence before the room exploded. You hit the mattress with a thud as her weight pinned you down, her face buried in your shoulder as she vibrated with pure, unadulterated adrenaline.

"We did it! We actually did it!" she shrieked into your ear, her joy was infectious enough to finally break through your cool exterior and you couldn't help it. It was like the tension of the last week finally evaporated into a fit of breathless giggles. You lay there on the bed, tangled in limbs and phones, laughing up at the ceiling while Zoya squeezed the life out of you. And for that one moment, the weight of your mother's expectations and the dark whispers of campus rumors felt miles away—eclipsed by the simple reality that you were officially in.

The calm excitement of the afternoon was short lived though, quickly replaced by hurricane Zoya in a state of social crisis. Your dorm room looked like a textile factory had exploded, there were clothes draped over your desk lamp and jeans strewn across your bed as she dove head first into your closet for the third time in twenty minutes. "The welcome party isn't just a party, Y/N," she muffled from behind a row of your hangers, her voice strained with the familiar, high pitched anxiety that always made you want to both hug her and laugh at her. "It's like a hierarchy. The hockey team is going to be there and the resident ice girls will be judging our every move. We can't just show up looking like we're headed to a late night study session in the library!"

You laid there on your bed, watching her with an amused tilt of your head. Zoya was always a perpetual mess of nerves, she was a beautiful disaster but you loved her to death for it. Her intensity was the only thing that could actually make you feel the weight of whatever was ahead.

"Have you actually seen the hockey team in person? Like up close?" she continued, finally surfacing with a grunt of frustration. "They’re not a human, they’re like filtered ai images come to life. And don't even get me started on Heeseung—the captain. If I have to stand next to him, I refuse to do it in a crewneck sweatshirt." She tossed one of your favorite oversized hoodies onto the floor with a look of annoyance. "Seriously? You have nothing sexy in here. It's all...functional."

"I was just going to go in what I have on now," you said, gesturing to your simple jeans and tee.

Zoya let out a gasp of such genuine horror you thought she'd actually been wounded. "No way, Y/N! You are not going to embarrass us! This is our debut!"

Before you could protest, she lunged for the overstuffed duffle bag she'd lugged over all the way from her own dorm and with a dramatic flourish, she hoisted it over both your heads and dumped the entire contents onto your bed. A mountain of lace, silk and leather tumbled out in a heap.

"Pick," she commanded, pointing at the pile with a manic twitch in her eye. "Pick right now or so help me God, I will pick for you and I promise you it will involve something tiny."

Giving in to the inevitable, you sighed and reached blindly into the middle of the mountain. Your fingers snagged onto the strap of a dress, so you pulled it out—a short, form fitting black dress with delicate straps and a neckline that was definitely lower than anything you owned.

Zoya's eyes went wide and her frantic energy instantly shifted into a predatory sort of pride. "Ooh...okay, okay! That one is hot," she purred, clapping her hands together. "The I don't care but I look incredible look. It's perfect. Go. Put it on. Eeek! I can’t wait, Y/N!"

You’re not surprised the party ends up being a far cry from the chaotic, floor shaking rages you'd been attending in the freshman dorms. This was something different, it was controlled and suffocatingly exclusive.

You let your eyes scan the room as you hoisted yourself up onto the kitchen island, slowly realizing the rumors about the inner circle weren't exaggerated. There were exactly twenty two hockey players and the twenty ice girls, including the five of you who had just been initiated. The air felt heavy with a specific kind of social politics you weren't sure you wanted to play. Zoya, however, was of course a natural and about twenty minutes ago, a guy with a sharp jawline and an observant gaze called Jungwon had detached himself from a group of upperclassmen and navigated the crowded living room with a focused sort of grace, landing right in front of Zoya.

"Was it a requirement for this year’s ice girls to be extra gorgeous?" he'd asked her with a voice smooth enough to make Zoya's usual nervous energy vanish into a flattered blush. He looked into her cup before speaking again, "Want to help me find something that isn't cheap beer?"

Zoya had glanced back at you, her eyes wide with a silent 'Is this okay?' question. You'd given her a small, reassuring nod, the green light she needed to finally enjoy the night she'd spent weeks stressing over.

Now, you were alone sat on the island while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up slightly as you adjusted your seat. The fabric was sleek and undeniably hot, as she'd put it but it didn't stop you from feeling like an outsider looking in.

Through the pulse of the music and the low hum of athletic egos clashing, your mind drifted toward your dorm. You could almost feel the weight of your oversized weighted duvet and the silence of your room. You were halfway through the mental calculation of how long you had to stay before an early morning excuse became socially acceptable, when the stool next to your legs slid back and the scent of expensive cologne hit you before he even spoke.

"You look remarkably bored for someone who just clawed their way onto the most exclusive team on campus," his voice came, all deep and smooth, holding a hint of a challenge.

You looked up and met a pair of intense eyes. He was striking with sharp angles and cool composure. Normally, you might have given a dry retort about the music volume but you caught sight of Zoya across the room, laughing at something Jungwon said. You knew her mentals would never recover if you started your tenure by being rude to one of the hockey gods.

"I’m just a bit tired," you said and forced your lips into a polite smile. "It's been a long week of skating."

He tilted his head and studied you a little as if he were reading a play. "Fair enough. I'm Jongseong but everyone just calls me Jay."

"Nice to meet you, Jay. I’m Y/N" you replied. You were just about to settle into a rhythm of light banter when a second presence came crashing into your peripheral vision.

"And who is this cutie?"

The newcomer leaned against his palm with his elbow the marble counter, he was radiating a completely different energy from Jay, so warm and dangerously charming. He looked like the kind of guy that had never had a bad day in his life.

Jay didn't even glance at him, his dark eyes somehow stayed locked on yours and his voice dropped an octave as he answered for you. "Y/N," he said your name and made it sound like a claim and not like an introduction.

The new guy grinned, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Well, Y/N, I'm Jake. Huge congratulations on making the ice girls. That’s a big deal."

You offered an amused huff. "Thanks. Though I'm surprised you even know I'm new. I figured we all looked the same to you guys in those practice uniforms."

Jake let out a short laugh and shifted closer until he had his head nearly in your thighs. "Oh please," he murmured, letting his gaze travel over your face with a boldness that made the back of your neck heat up. "I would've spotted you months ago if you were already around. You're far too stunning to go unnoticed on this campus."

Before you could respond to Jake's blatant flirting, a third figure cut through the conversation. He didn't look at you, well at least not at first. He directed all his attention entirely to Jake. "Heeseung is looking for you," the newcomer said a little bit like a warning. "And he's already pissed. You were supposed let the delivery driver with the drinks in and now he’s gone…with the extra drinks."

Jake didn't look remotely intimidated, if anything he actually looked bored as he rolled his eyes and let his hair tickle your arm. "Heeseung gets pissed at everyone, Sunghoon. It's his default setting by now."

The name Heeseung had been floating around the dorms like a title of nobility for weeks but the way they spoke it made him sound like a force to be reckoned with. "Who exactly is Heeseung?" you cut in, managing to keep your voice steady despite the triple threat of hot guys surrounding you. "And should I be staying clear of him?"

That was the moment the new guy finally acknowledged you. His gaze drifted down and landed on you with a clinical kind of interest that felt like you were being scrutinized.

"He's our captain," Jake answered quickly, with a playful smirk returning to his lips. "And whether you stay clear of him or not isn't really up to you anymore, is it? You're an ice girl now."

"This is Sunghoon," Jake added, gesturing vaguely to the cold eyed newcomer.

Sunghoon didn't smile at you but the intensity of his stare softened just a fraction. "So, how does it feel? Being one of the chosen five?"

You opened your mouth to give a diplomatic, it's great response but your gaze snagged on a movement across the room, where Zoya was stood still with Jungwon distracted by the person he was talking to over her head. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly agape at the sight of you sat at the center of a triangle of hot guys.

She caught your eye and mouthed, "What the fuck?!" her expression was a blend of genuine horror and curios thrill.

You caught her eye and gave a subtle, helpless shrug, you didn't have an answer for her, damn—you didn't even have an answer for yourself. Ten minutes ago you were thinking about your bed and now, you’re the center of gravity for some sexy strangers.

Just as Jay was trying to pull you back into the conversation with a question about your major or something, a voice came from nowhere. "Jake. Come on, man. I told you to let the drinks guy in." The voice was low and authoritative, lacking any of the playful warmth the others had shown.

Heeseung didn't even look like a student in the best way possible, he looked like the architect of the entire room. His presence was heavy like a physical weight that made the banter from a moment ago feel suddenly juvenile. He didn't even acknowledge you, his eyes were fixed entirely on Jake with a look of tired discipline.

"He left and now we’re low on drinks," Heeseung added but Jake didn't miss a beat and instead of shrinking, he finally just placed his whole head in your lap as he flashed a boyish grin at his captain.

"Can you blame me, cap?" Jake countered, the tone was light but his eyes were dancing with a hint of challenge. "I was just doing my job. Making our newest recruit feel welcome. You wouldn't want the ice girls thinking we aren’t hospitable, would you?" He spoke as if you were the ultimate get out of jail free card.

Heeseung's eyes finally shifted, they traveled slowly from your face down to where your hands were resting in Jake's hair, then finally up to your face again. His eyes weren't hungry like Jake's or intense like Jay's, they were just insanely observant, tracing your features quietly in a way that made your breath scatter.

He let out a long sigh and you could see the tension in his jaw flicker for just a second before he looked back at the three guys flanking you.

"Of course," He said. "I should have known. You three always did have a habit of gravitating toward the prettiest girl in the room."

He stepped closer and invaded the space the others had already carved out, letting his shadow fall over you. "The problem is," he said, shifting his eyes to lock onto yours with a finality that made the myth Zoya was going on about suddenly feel real, "they usually forget that the prettiest ones are the hardest to keep in line."

His eyes searched yours for a crack in your nonchalant exterior. "So," he murmured, "are you going to be a problem, doll? Hard to keep in line?"

The weight of the four of them was suffocating, it made you lose trust in your own voice, so you simply shook your head, a subtle movement that felt like signing a contract you hadn't even read.

A satisfied smirk pulled at Jay's lips so he let his shoulder brush yours. "In that case," he said, "we're moving to a more...private after party. Just us. You wanna come?"

He didn't phrase it like a question, to you it sounded like it was an invitation or a command. You hesitated and your mind flashed back to the quiet safety of your dorm but Jake was quick in sensing your retreat. He reached out and let his thumb graze the back of your hand where it rested on the marble now since he lifted his head from your lap.

"Come on," he coaxed with a honeyed voice. "The night's just getting started. You don't want to be the only recruit who tucked herself in just before the real fun began, do you?"

"I...I can't leave Zoya," you managed to glance over their tall frames toward the dance floor. "We came together. I can’t just leave her alone."

Heeseung didn't even bother looking over his shoulder, as if he already knew exactly where everyone in the room was positioned. "Zoya’s in safe hands, Jungwon is the sweetest. He'll look after her."

You followed his gaze to the center of the room where the lights caught Zoya, who clearly wasn't checking for you anymore. She had her back pressed firmly against Jungwon's chest, her head tilted back as his hands gripped her hips. She looked flushed and lost in the heat of the moment, completely oblivious to the fact that you were being cornered right now.

The rumors Zoya had whispered about at the stone table suddenly didn't feel so ridiculous anymore. Looking at her, then back at the four sets of eyes waiting for your answer, you realized you had to make a choice. But maybe it wasn’t even like that, maybe they were just being really good wing men for Jay, who was the first to approach you. And if you’re being honest you didn’t mind the either of flirting with him more in a more quiet location.

That line of reasoning was exactly how you ended up sat between Jay and Sunghoon in the backseat of a massive truck you’re suspecting Jake owns, seeing as he’s the one driving with Heeseung in the passenger seat.

The fabric of Sunghoon's expensive jacket brushed against your left arm while Jay's solid frame pressed into your right, leaving you with nowhere to lean but forward.

The blue light of your phone screen felt blinding in the darkness of the car as you quickly typed out a message to Zoya.

You: I left with Jay. Didn't want to interrupt you and Jungwon. Text me when you're back?

You watched the read receipt appear instantly, trying to ignore how you conveniently left out the fact that you left with all four boys. A second later, a heart reaction popped up over the bubble, the girl didn’t even bother typing back, she was clearly occupied and it made you snort.

But before you could lock the screen, a large hand reached over and plucked the device from your fingers. Jay didn't even look at the screen as he pocketed it in his jacket with his gaze fixed on the side of your face. "Relax," he told you. "I promise you, Jungwon is a real gentleman. He'll make sure she gets back safe."

"He's right," Sunghoon added from your other side but when you looked at him, he was staring out the tinted window at the passing streetlights. "Jungwon is the best of us. No need to worry."

Jake caught your eye in the rearview mirror and flashed you his perfect white teeth, the engine roaring as he accelerated down the road.

The drive felt like it was happening in a different dimension, the hum of the engine was drowning out by the predatory focus of the men surrounding you.

Jay shifted his weight so his large frame crowded into your personal space until you were pinned against the leather seat and Sunghoon's solid side. "You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this since you walked into that kitchen," he said, "You're so fucking gorgeous, it's insane."

He moved closer, letting his nose brush yours and you could feel his warm breath on your lips. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?"

Your words had abandoned you, the sheer fervor of his gaze made you dizzy and all you could do was nod. He didn't wait to be told twice, crashing his lips onto yours in a kiss so hungry and demanding, it made a tiny whimper escape your throat, muffled by his lips as his tongue traced yours.

From the front, Heeseung's amused voice cut through the haze, he glanced back over his shoulder at the sight of Jay nearly on top of you, pushing you further into Sunghoon. "Control yourself, Jongseong," he said with no real bite to his words. "You're always so impatient. We aren't even off the main road yet."

Jay definitely wasn’t listening, deepening the kiss instead and letting his hand grip your waist. That’s when you felt a sharp spark of electricity as a different hand began a slow trail up the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Your head snapped to the left with wide eyes to meet Sunghoon's gaze, who wasn't looking out the window anymore, whose lips were now pulled into a pout. "And what about me?" he whispered, "Where's my kiss, Y/N?"

Caught between the two of them, you leaned over and pressed your lips to Sunghoon's in a softer kiss. The moment you did, Jay groaned into your ear and grabbed your waist to hoist your leg over his lap, forcing your legs apart in the cramped space and making your dress ride up dangerously high.

Jay's fingers danced along your inner thigh, inching upward until they hooked under the delicate edge of your lace panties. The sensation sent a jolt through you and as Sunghoon began to trail wet kisses down the column of your neck, your breath hitched in a jagged sob.

You were sure you would faint if they both kept going but the vehicle came to a halt and Jake's voice drifted back from the driver's seat, "We're hereeee."

Trying to get out the truck, your legs felt like water when your heels hit the gravel of the driveway, making you stumble.

"Woah, easy there," Sunghoon caught you and before you could find your balance, he moved with the strength of an athlete. In one swift motion, he hooked an arm around your waist and hoisted you upward, flipping you over his shoulder like you weighed less than a hockey stick.

That forced a whimper out of your lips and your hair cascaded toward the pavement while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up even further. Blood quickly rushed to your head, mixing with the lingering dizzy spell Jay had started in the backseat.

SMACK.

The sharp sound of his palm connecting with your rear echoed in the quiet night. "Shh," he shushed you with his hand lingering for a possessive second on the curve of your hip. You could hear the others following behind him as he carried you into the house. Jake let out a low laugh from somewhere behind you. "Careful with the cargo, Hoon," he teased but there was no real concern in his voice.

"She's fine," Jay countered, speaking for you and reaching up to trace a slow line down your exposed calf.

Heeseung led the way and punched a code into a glowing keypad of the door, the mechanical click of the lock sounding like a gavel hitting a sounding block. He stepped inside and held the door open, his eyes tracked your inverted form on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

"Try not to make too much noise, doll. The neighbors think we're such studious boys."

Sunghoon dropped you carefully, setting you down on the couch and the first thing you registered was the interior of the house, it was even more imposing than the truck—all dark leather and the kind of minimalist luxury that felt cold until the four of them surrounded the couch where you sat. They stood in a semi circle, before Heeseung stepped forward with an expression so unreadable, it stripped away the playful banter of the car ride.

"Before we go any further, let's be clear," he started, speaking in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "We're going to fuck you. All of us. If you don't want that, if you've changed your mind, say it now. We won't be mad and we won't make it weird. Jake will drive you back to your dorm and we'll go back to being normal hockey players and ice girl on Monday. No questions asked."

The rumors weren't just true, they were standing right in front of you, tall and extremely expectant.

But as you looked up at them you didn't feel fear Zoya had spoken of this very moment with. The adrenaline from the car ride was still singing in your veins, drowning out any hesitation.

Without a word, you reached up, hooking your fingers under the thin spaghetti straps of the dress. You watched their eyes track the movement as you slowly slid the fabric down, letting it pool around your waist until your breasts were fully exposed in the dim light of the apartment.

"Fuck yeah," Jake breathed, already reaching for the buckle of his belt. "I told you she was the right choice," he muttered.

Heeseung didn't have an outward reaction but the corner of his mouth ticked upward in a smirk—the first sign of genuine approval you'd seen from him all night. "Good girl," he said but now his voice carried a heavy sexual weight.

It was as if they had been waiting all night to tear into you, Jake didn't wait for a second invitation, he dropped to his knees by your legs before burying his face against your chest. "Fuck, I love tits," he groaned, the sound muffled against your skin before his mouth latched onto one nipple. He sucked with a greedy pace that sent a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak until you were arching your back off the leather cushions.

Above you, Jay was already crowding back into your space, ready to continue what he started in the car. He gripped your jaw and tilted your head back for a bruising make out that had you gasping for air, his hands found your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

While Jake and Jay claimed your upper body, Sunghoon moved with a surgical focus. He didn't say a word as he reached down, hooking his fingers into the lace of your panties and tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. He tossed the scrap of fabric onto the expensive floor without a second glance.

He looked at your pussy with a smirk pulling at his lips. "Look at that," his voice barely cut through the sounds of Jake's wet suction and Jay's heavy breathing. He reached out with two fingers to graze your folds, coming away coated in your evidence. He held them up to the dim light, showing you how much you were already leaking. "You're absolutely soaking. Such a little slut for the team, aren't you, baby girl?"

The words hit you in a way that made your toes curl and sent a whine into Jay's hungry mouth, your hips instinctively rolled upward toward Sunghoon's hand or face, desperate for the friction you knew was coming.

From the edge of the couch, Heeseung watched with a calm satisfaction, his arms crossed over his chest, taking in the sight of his teammates dismantling the newest ice girl.

"She's perfect," Heeseung noted. "Jay, move."

You were pinned to the plush leather of the sofa like a living sacrifice to the tradition you had only joked about five hours ago.

Heeseung leaned over you, letting his large hand cup the side of your face so he could claim your mouth. His kiss was deep, slower than Jay’s and tasted of dark intentions. But the moment his tongue met yours, you felt like you could fall in love with him, that thought was quickly pushed out of your head when a pair of hot, wet lips latched directly onto your clit with a suction so precise it felt like a machine.

"Ah—!" Your back arched violently off the cushions as you broke away from Heeseung's mouth, only to look down and find Jay's dark hair between your thighs. He didn't look up, his hands gripped your hips with bruising force to keep you still while his tongue worked with in rhythmic motions. He was fucking your pussy with his mouth, swirling his tongue and flicking it against the most sensitive parts of your cunt until you were sobbing into the quiet of the room. "S—Slow down!"

You tried to tug at the roots of his hair to ground yourself but there was no use. On either side of your chest, Jake was still relentlessly toying with your breasts, moving his mouth from one nipple to the other and grazing his teeth on the swollen peaks until they were raw and sensitive.

Heeseung didn't let you stay away for long, his hand shifted from your cheek again before sliding down until his fingers curled firmly around your throat. It wasn't enough to choke you, just a steady, pressure that forced your chin up and pinned you in place while he leaned back in to reclaim your lips.

"Stay still for me, mama."

With a hand on your neck, Jake's mouth on your chest and Jay's tongue devouring your cunt, you felt like you were being pulled apart. You became a mess of whimpers and little breaths while your body twitched with every flick of Jay's tongue as the four of them began the process of breaking you in.

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, which was now swollen from his kisses.

"Do you know how to suck a dick, doll face?" he asked, to which you could only nod with your eyes wide and glazed over from arousal.

He took hold of your jaw with a firm grip, maneuvering your head like a piece of equipment he was testing for the first time. You were forced to turn away from the wet sounds Jay was still making between your thighs and suddenly you were face to face with Sunghoon’s cock. He stood right at the edge of the sofa with his jeans already pulled down. His cock was thick and pulsing with a life of its own, there was a perfect bead of precum trembling at the crown. It looked lethal in that light, it looked way too big and ready, completely unapologetic.

"Open up."

Your mouth fell open in a silent invitation that he accepted instantly as he guided his length past your lips. The salt heavy taste of him flooded your mouth and you found yourself choking out a muffled whimper when he slid in deep, bottoming out against the back of your throat on the very first thrust.

He wasn't gentle, he lacked the patience Jake liked to pretend he had, he reaching down, he tangled his fingers into your hair at the roots to steady you or perhaps just to keep you from pulling away then began to fuck your face with a bruising rhythm.

It was complete sensory static, you had Sunghoon's weight invading your throat, Jay's tongue still ruthlessly fucking your pussy below and the heavy pressure of Heeseung's hand on the back of your neck. Every time Sunghoon thrust, his hips bumped against your nose and the scent of him suffocates you in the best possible way.

You were drowning in them, drowning in the friction of the leather sofa against your back and the dual assault on your body, you could barely find the air to breathe. It made you reach out and dig your fingers into Sunghoon's quads for some kind of leverage, you felt the rock hard muscle jump under your touch as you doubled down on the suction.

"God, look at her," Jake's voice drifted from somewhere above your chest. "She's taking him so well. Such a pretty thing."

Sunghoon wasn’t offering any ounce of mercy, his movement turned into something frenzied as he crowded into your space. He used your hair as a tether, pulling your head back to meet every punishing lunge, the friction of his length against your tongue and throat becoming a choking heat. You were swamped in the taste of him, making your eyes water cause his hips snapped forward with a certainty that left you with no room to breathe.

Determined to wrestle back some semblance of control, you reached up and clamped your hand around the very base of his cock, letting thumb press firmly into the heavy vein on the side, you tried to anchor him in place, circling your tongue around the head with laser focus. You started to suck and choke on him in a pace that had his knees buckling against the edge of the cushions.

The controlled grunts he had been making finally fractured. "Fuck," he gasped, something genuine and high pitched ripping from his throat as his head snapped back. The cold look he’d been attempting to wear all night was completely replaced by a wrecked expression that bordered on pain. He leaned his full weight into you, bracing one hand against the wall behind the couch, his fingertips raked against your scalp cause he was losing the battle to stay composed.

He looked down at the others, his voice a jagged rasp that ripped through the wet sounds of Jay still eating your pussy so messily and the squelching of his own cock fucking your mouth. "Heeseung...oh fuck my life, she's actually s—so fucking good at this."

Jake’s chuckle was appreciative from where he was still occupied with your chest, his thumb flicking your nipple with a punishing pinch that made you jump. "I told you. She's got that quiet desperate energy. They're always the nastiest."

Jay hadn’t even come up for air from the slick mess between your thighs, his tongue was still hitting your clit with sharp flicks that made your hips buck weakly into his mouth.

Heeseung's hand was tracing the frantic pulse in your throat, he watched the way your cheeks hollowed out when you doubled down on Sunghoon, his expression shifting from calculated observation to something much hungrier.

"Damn," "What a sight."

You fought for every bit of air while stilling working your throat around Sunghoon with a needy drive that you were determined to maintain until he finally came. You wanted that win, you wanted the feeling of him losing his composure completely as he spilled into your mouth but the sensation coming from Jay was starting to break your focus.

Two thick fingers suddenly shoved their way past your entrance and stretched you wide with an abrupt force that made your eyes roll back instantly. At the same moment, a hot mouth seized your clit again, sucking with an intent pressure that had you wanting to shriek.

The rush was too much, it was a violent collision of pleasure that had you trembling on the couch. You tried to pull back, shaking your head as you attempted to dislodge Sunghoon just to let out the scream building in your lungs. But Sunghoon wasn't having it, he forced you back down until you were buried to the hilt once more, snapping his hips forward with an unchecked urgency.

"Come on, baby girl...I'm so fucking close. Take this cock for me. You’re a good girl, right?"

You tried to obey, hollowing your cheeks so you could double down on the suction but the fingers inside you were merciless. They pushed deeper, reaching past depths you didn't know you had and hooking upward to find that one receptive spot to stay there, pulsing against it until your entire body went rigid.

The dam within you didn't just break, it completely shattered, leading to a hot wave of fluid erupting from you, soaking the hand buried inside you and splashing against the expensive cushions. You were squirting around those fingers in quivering jets, your gummy muscles clenched in an uncoordinated pulses that you couldn't stop if you tried. Every muffled whimper and sob was swallowed whole by Sunghoon's length, leaving you to shake helplessly as you were essentially being consumed from both ends.

"No way," Jake's excitement reached your ears through the haze, he stopped his assault on your breasts just to stare down at the slick mess soaking into the dark leather. "Holy shit, she's a squirter. Hee, did you see that?"

Jay let out an elated sound while his fingers were still buried deep to catch every last twitch of your orgasm. "I see it," he muttered. "I feel it. You’re ruining the couch, angel."

Even through their words and the force of your organs that had you shaking, Sunghoon’s hips were unstoppable. It was like he had lost his grip on reality and you could tell he was on the edge of his own climax.

His hand tightened in your hair with a pushing force as a string of broken curses tore from his throat. "Holy fucking shit—Fuckkk baby girl." "Sh—Shit! You’re gonna make me cum."

It was as if it was too much for him but he didn’t pull back, he pushed further into to your mouth, the phallic head of his cock assaulting your throat.

His hot spurts of cum shot down, making you gag and the cum overflow but he wasn't done, he somehow managed to keep thrusting, trying to fuck every last drop back into you with so much heat that your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

"Easy, Hoon. You're going to choke her," Heeseung's voice broke through the fog, still calm but carrying that undeniable authority. He reached forward, wrapping a hand around Sunghoon's shoulder and physically hauling him back.

The moment the pressure vanished and you heard the squelch of his cock pulling out from your mouth, you collapsed forward on the sofa. You couldn't seem to catch your breath, the air was whistling in your lungs as you coughed uncontrollably. Strings of white, pearly cum trailed from the corners of your mouth, dripped down your chin and carved wet paths through the sweat on your neck.

Jay moved over to catch your jaw, he started to pull at the hem of his shirt and made an effort to wipe the mess from your face but it was a lost cause—you were completely ruined. He looked down at you, his thumb tracing the swollen line of your lower lip and his eyes went soft for a minute. "You okay? We can stop if you've had enough. You're shaking like crazy."

The room went still for a heartbeat and all four sets of eyes tracked the way your chest heaved. You swallowed hard, still tasting Sunghoon heavy on your tongue and looked up through your lashes. A defiant smile making its way to your lips, even though a stray tear from overstimulation rolled down your cheek.

"No," your voice was barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You haven't even fucked me yet. Isn't that what you promised?"

A charged silence followed your words before Jake let out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Jesus Christ," "She's a total fucking freak. I love it."

Before you could even think to retort, Heeseung's hands were on your hips hauling you up and flipping you over, forcing you onto all fours in the center of the sofa. Your knees sank into the plush leather and your head hung low, making your hair shield your face as you felt the cold air of the room hit your exposed pussy.

Heeseung seemed to love keeping you suspended in that agonizingly sharp moment of anticipation, your breath wouldn’t stop hitching as your patience dwindled, you felt the blunt head of his cock begin to drag along your wet folds. He was taking his time, coating himself in the mess Jay had left behind, teasing the entrance until you were mindlessly rolling your hips back to find him.

"D—Don’t tease!" You shrieked at him, so desperate to be filled, he finally pushed in slowly, it was so intrusive that you felt like you were being split wide from the inside out. His size was unforgiving and every millimeter he gained seemed to stretch your walls to their absolute limit. You were starting to tremble, your elbows buckling as you tried to stay upright and in a moment of total overstimulation, you twisted your neck to look back at him.

That was a mistake.

The second your eyes met his dark, blown out ones, completely hollow of any pity, his face hardened and he reached forward, large hand wrapping firmly around the front of your throat, not to choke you but to force your head up and arch your spine, causing a violent surge of his hips that buried his cock all the way inside your pussy.

"FUCK!" You screamed straight from your lungs, the impact was so sudden it knocked the air out of you, leaving you gasping as your walls squeezed down around him in a reflexive grip.

"Nngh—fuck," he grunted, dropping his forehead to the space between your shoulder blades at the feeling of you clenching. His fingers tightened slightly on your neck to hold you steady against the force of his own intrusion. "You're so fucking tight. Doll, are you sure you’ve been fucked before?"

Regardless of his pussy drunk concern, he didn’t give you a second to adjust, picking a speed that had him bottoming out with every single thrust, making the world blur into a cloud of white light and the steady slap of skin meeting skin.

You found a way to open your eyes and were immediately met with Jay standing just inches from your face with his hardened dick in his hand, stroking at the view in front of him. The sight of him with completely unfiltered hunger in his eyes made you reach out to try to grab him yourself but your fingers grazed his thigh instead.

"Yeah? You want this too, angel?"

You couldn't even find your voice, you could only bob your head in a nod while Heeseung's hips collided with your ass.

"Say please," Jay commanded.

"Ah—nhh, please..." you whined, the sound breaking into a jagged sob as Heeseung bottomed out again. "Please, Jay...please fuck my mouth."

He kneeled on the couch on the space between your hands, the heat of him hit your face before he tapped the heaviness of his length on your outstretched tongue. You were a complete mess, your hands clinging his thighs for balance while your body was tossed back and forth between the two of them.

Heeseung shifted his angle and suddenly he wasn't just pounding into you anymore, he began to grind into that spot that had your toes curling into the leather. It wasn't the raw friction Sunghoon had used to fuck your face—it was a slow and deliciously exact pressure that made you pull off Jay’s cock for a second.

"Oh my God! Right there! Fu—Ah!" A broken string of moans escaping you, you looked up at Jay with your eyes glazed and watering. "Jayyy, Heeseung...Heeseung’s fucking me so good...It’s so good, Jay!"

Jay watched your face contort with the pleasure Heeseung was providing. "Yeah?" Jay rasped with an instant competitive heat and pushed his way back into your mouth, forcing you to take him deep but not as deep as Sunghoon. "You like that? You like how he's stretching out your little pussy?"

Just as you were starting to manage the dual invasion of Jay and Heeseung, a new spark ignited at your core. Someone had reached beneath you, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing down until he heard you moan.

"W—Wait! Too much!"

The scream was raw and echoed off the high ceilings as you realized Jake was the source of the new pleasure. A new pleasure so overwhelming it turned you into a delirious mess of babbles.

"Thank you—fuck—thank you so much!" You cried, your head thrashing against the sofa cushions, completely abandoning Jay’s dick. "It’s so big...my pussy! Oh my God! Heeseung, it feels so good!"

You dug your fingers into the leather and began to throw your ass back with an erratic force, you were weaponizing your own body, slamming back against him so hard that he let out a choked off grunt, his hands scrambled to find purchase on your waist cause you had completely hijacked his rhythm. He was losing his control, it made his breath come out in ragged, stuttering hitches as you ground your pussy on his fic harder and harder.

"Wait—oh shit—doll, slow down," Heeseung managed to say but his voice a mess. He was trembling and muscles were all corded and tight with how hard he was struggled to keep up with your manic pace. "I'm gonna...fuck...can I cum? Can I cum inside you, doll?"

"Yes! Yes!" you keened. "Give it to me, Heeseung—fill me up, please, please just do it! Please give me your cum!"

Maybe Jake was starting to feel felt out or neglected, maybe that’s why his eyes got this strange kind of glee in them when he delivered three stinging slaps directly to your swollen clit.

The impact was the final straw and you knew you didn’t stand a chance, your vision went dark at the corners and for the second time in less than an hour a wave of fluid erupted from your pussy, soaking Heeseung's thighs and the sofa in a hot jolt. At that exact moment, Heeseung lost the battle, letting out a guttural roar and having his fingers bruise your hips when he surged forward one last time and pinned you down, dumping his entire load deep inside your overstimulated cunt.

The expensive fabric of Zoya's dress was now a lost cause, it was a ruined topographical map of cum streaks and the translucent evidence of your own multiple orgasms. You were slumped against the leather with your skin hot when Jake leaned into your space. He looked down at you with a fake pout, his bottom lip tucked out in a way that would have been endearing if his eyes weren't so eager.

"You look absolutely undone," Jake said softly, a little playfully too while he traced a smudge of Sunghoon's cum on your cheek. "Are we done? Because you haven't even touched me yet and I'm starting to feel a little neglected over here."

Heeseung was a complete afterthought at this point, slumped back against the sofa cushions with his chest heaving, he looked entirely fucked out and content to just watch the rest of them continue to use you. Jay snorted as soon as he saw his captain sidelined before he reached out and tugged you toward him.

He didn't give you a choice in the positioning, quickly sitting back and pulling you onto his lap so that your back was pressed against his firm chest, your legs straddling his thick thighs in a reverse cowgirl that left you bare and vulnerable.

"I can be a bit rough, angel," Jay warned in a low voice that traveled straight through your spine. He leaned forward and let his lips graze the shell of your ear. "Just tap my arm if you need me to slow down, okay?"

You were able to give him a weak nod but right before you could even settle into the new position, the dynamic shifted. Jay's hands slid down, hooking the firmly under your knees and hauling your legs upward until your thighs were pinned against your chest. He shifted his grip and locked his fingers behind your head in a makeshift full nelson that made your chest thrust forward and your pussy completely bared to the room.

Jake quickly stepped in and helped Jay's guide his length to your entrance. The thrust of him was so creamy and squelching due to the mixture of Heeseung's and your cum but it didn't stop the way your pussy still felt stretched and overstimulated.

"Oh fuck—!"

You were completely at his mercy, pinned between his solid frame and the air, with no way to pull back or adjust the depth. Jay didn't waste a second of your shock, snapping his hips forward with animalistic strength that made your entire body jostle with every strike.

You became a passenger in your own body, your head lolling forward cause you had no choice, he ruined what was left of your composure with a speed you had no hope of escaping.

The sound Jake's loud commentary and the heavy, satisfied sound of Heeseung's laughter became nothing more than background static the moment Jay's lips grazed the damp skin of your earlobe, to whisper like he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Look at you," he hissed and words rattled in your skull.

His arms tightened under yours, pulling your chest even tighter against the position so he could fuck into you with sickeningly perfect thrusts. "Taking all of me like a champ while they just watch. You're so fucking wet, I can hear it every time my dick goes inside you. Do you like being our little showpiece? Do you like how much of a mess we've made of you?"

You tried to gasp, tried to find some response but he caught your ear in his teeth in a sharp nip. "Answer me, angel," he ordered and you couldn't help but clench harder at the sound of his sexy voice in your ear. "Tell me how good it feels to have me giving you this good dick. Tell me you're never going to be the same after tonight."

The way he spoke was so different from Sunghoon's cold commands or Heeseung's calculated dominance. He seemed to be utterly depraved while he detailed exactly what he was doing to your body, using words that made you feel like you were going insane.

"Nnh—Jay—"

"Yeah, that's it," he rasped, increasing his pace until you were bouncing helplessly in his grip. "Keep saying my name like that. Let them watch you cum apart for me. You're so fucking perfect, I'm gonna lose it if you keep squeezing me like that."

You were a complete disaster in his arms, like his words were actively bypassing your brain and heading straight for your pussy. He was pinning you to his chest and whispering every filthy thought he'd had about you since he first spotted you tonight, and with every word, he pushed you closer to the edge of your third orgasm you weren't sure your body was ready for.

The physical barrier of Jay's body didn't stop Jake, he seemed to be a creature of opportunity and when his eyes caught onto the wet frothing friction of Jay’s cock pounding into you, he darted his tongue out to trace Jay’s cock, catching the pearly drops of cum that had pooled at the base of him, and then he made a torturous trek upward. He licked right over the tension of your stretched entrance with his tongue firm and flat, before landing straight on your clit.

"Mmm—Jake—NO—!"

Your scream was harsh, heavy with the evidence of total sensory overload that vibrated through Jay's chest. You weren't just getting fucked anymore, they were taking you apart from the outside in. Every time Jake's tongue swirled over your now extremely sensitive nub, a fresh jerk of aching pleasure sang through your whole body to the point where all you could do was kick your feet and moan. "Oh my God! Oh shitttt! Fuck!" "Nggh—My pussy!"

"Look at you," Jay said into your ear so lowly that no one could hear him over the sound of your cries. "She's losing her fucking mind, Jake. Look at how she's shaking."

Jake didn't answer him with words, he just doubled down, mouth sucking, spitting and slurping until your vision was spotting. He was working in perfect tandem with Jay—the blunt force of the thrusts bottoming out inside you while Jake’s wet mouth kept you on the very edge of another violent climax.

You were a mess of incoherent sobs and frantic hitches as the room blurred into a haze of salt and the overwhelming scent of four men who were determined to see exactly how much you could take before they finally broke you for good.

"Hey," "You think you can handle more? You think that pretty little pussy of yours can take two cocks at once?"

Your brain was mid short circuiting from the overstimulation of both of them leaving you totally incapable of actual thought. You just wanted to be good for them, you wanted to be the perfect, ruined thing they so badly desired.

"Yes," you sobbed into the quiet of the room, making eye contact with Jake who had with tongue flat out so Jay was brushing up against it too. "Yes, please...I can take it."

Jay eyes locked onto Jake's with a competitive look. "She says she wants both, Jake. Get in here."

Jay didn't stop, but he did shift his rhythm, slowing the full nelson into a heavy grind that still kept you anchored while Jake stepped into the space between Jay's spread legs. Jake was vibrating with a feverish drive, his eyes were blown wide when he looked down at the slick mess of your pussy, mostly from him spitting and slurping all over it.

He spat a dollop directly onto your pussy again and the heat of it was a stark difference to the cooling fluids already coating your skin. Looking at him above you, all you could notice was how he was undeniably the heaviest and thickest you’d seen all night but you didn’t even get the chance to appreciate it before he decided to slap the heaviness of his cock directly on your swollen clit.

"Ah shit! Fuck Fuck Fuck—!" Your toes curled mid air.

He was massive in a way that made Sunghoon and Heeseung look manageable by comparison and who had struggled to take them, so how would you manage this?

"Look at you," Jake mocked, guiding the thick weeping head of his cock into your pussy, right alongside where Jay was still buried deep and grinding just on that spot. "You’re already stretching out for me. You’re such a good little slut, aren’t you?"

He began to push his way in, not waiting for your body to adjust around two massive cocks inside you. The stretch was agonizing, you felt like your walls were being pressed flat against your pelvis. You were being split in two, the two of them worked in sync to draw out the high pitched whimpers from your throat, bullying their way into your pussy until you were stuffed to the brim.

"That's it," Jay whispered in your ear, tightening his arms to keep you from collapsing under the weight of them both. "Take these cocks, angel. Show us how much you can really take."

His words made the room start to blur in a spectrum of light and the heavy thud of the sofa hitting the wall. Jay and Jake had found a devastating coordination—a seamless tag team assault where one was bottoming out against your cervix just as the other was pulling back to the entrance. You were never left empty, never given a second to recoil or catch a single, clean breath.

"God, Jay, your cock feels amazing," Jake barked out in a manic laugh while he watched the way your walls buckled and pulled taut to accommodate both their lengths. "I can feel you pulsing right against me inside her. She's so fucking tight." "You always this tight, babe?"

You were barely tethered to reality not to talk of attempting to respond to him, he was asking like he and his teammate weren’t both fucking your little pussy at the same damn time. "I can’t! You’re—I’m gonna cum again! Please!"

In a moment of panicked overstimulation, you tried to blink through the sweat stinging your eyes to search the shadows for Heeseung's grounding presence or Sunghoon's cold, watchful gaze. But the living room had swallowed them whole, they were nowhere to be found, leaving you entirely at the mercy of the two most insane.

Jake had seemed to develop a fresh obsession with your clit. It was like he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for the twitching bundle of nerves with his fingers. The shock of the cold metal of his rings against your feverish, hot skin sent a violent tremor through your entire frame.

"Ah! Wait—! N—no!"

"No? I bet you fucking love it?" "I bet you love being fucked by four random strangers, oh shit."

"I bet this is the best—oh fuck!—I’m going to cum."

"This is the best night of your life. Say it."

"Holy shit! Yes yes yes! This is the best night of my fucking life!"

"You're going to be such a pretty little ice girl for us, you know that? You’ll be the sexiest thing on the ice. Everyone's gonna to look at you and have no idea you were fucked like this, shit, like a whore on a Friday night."

The mention of the ice, the mention of the world outside this suffocating living room felt like a distant dream. Your vision started to tunnel and the edges of the room started to fray into darkness as the dual friction of their bodies and the icy bite of Jake's rings pushed you toward a ledge you couldn't come back from.

A third and what you could tell would be your most violent orgasm of the night was already beginning to bubble up in your stomach, the feeling threatened to short circuit your entire nervous system. Your walls clutched at them with a crushing strength and for a terrifying, blissful second, the world went completely silent as you felt yourself starting to slip out of consciousness right at the peak of your pleasure.

The world didn't just blur, it splintered. Your third orgasm hit you with so much force you sat on the edge of unconsciousness, you tried to hold onto the overwhelming fullness of them both but your vision had started to dissolve into static.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard a sharp grunt when Jake suddenly pulled out. The loss of his heavy weight was a shock to your system and you were left choking for a breath you couldn't quite find.

"Fuck—"

A second later, you felt the heat of his cum splashing across your chest, the weight of it soaking into the ruined fabric of the dress and landing on your sensitive nipple. He didn't stop, his hand tugging his cock in a final rhythm to coat your skin in the evidence of how much you had ruined him.

At the exact same moment, Jay let out a low moan but he didn’t pull out, if anything, he shoved his cock deeper just as he unlocked his fingers from behind your head and you immediately felt his cum beginning to fill you up, a heavy, internal tide that pushed you over the final ledge.

The heavy sound of their breathing was the last thing you registered before you slipped into a dark, unconsciousness, completely and utterly spent.

Is that a bird? You thought. No way that’s a bird but there was a chirp piercing through the fog of your consciousness. You winced as you tried to blink the world into focus, the ceiling above you was familiar, the off white and the faint water stain in the corner were familiar but the context was all wrong.

You were in your own dorm room.

The confusion hit like a physical weight and made your heart hammer against your ribs. You felt clean too, with the lingering scent of a citrusy body wash clinging to your skin but when you managed to push yourself up, the fabric of what you were wearing felt heavy and oversized. It wasn't your silk slip of Zoya’s dress, it was a thick, grey hoodie that smelled faintly of Jay's cologne and a pair of soft athletic shorts that definitely didn't belong to you.

A sharp ache blossomed in your lower back the moment you shifted, followed by a dull soreness between your thighs that made you hiss through your teeth. So you definitely didn’t dream up last night, the memory of all four of them, from Sunghoon fucking your face to Heeseung’s grip on your throat and the brutal weight of Jay and Jake stretching you to the brink, everything came rushing back in a vivid flood.

You reached up to trace the sensitive skin of your neck. Even without a mirror, you could feel the tender heat of the hickeys littered all across your collarbone and neck. You pulled back the hem of the oversized hoodie and gasped at the blossoming bruises on your hips, they were perfectly symmetrical to where Jay and Heeseung had grabbed you.

"How did I get back here?" you whispered to yourself and reached for your bedside table, expecting to find your cracked phone screen and a half empty water bottle. Instead, your hand brushed against the wicker of a massive, overflowing gift basket. It was filled with things that had no business being in a college dorm room—high end skincare, a silk robe, a plushie and boxes of artisanal chocolates.

But sitting right at the center and gleaming under the morning sun, was a pair of professional grade figure skates looking like something you would never buy cause of how expensive you knew they were. The white leather was pristine, the blades polished to a lethal shine and as you pulled them closer, you saw your initials—your initials—expertly embroidered into the heel in silver thread.

Tucked into the laces was a small card. You opened it with shaking fingers to read the scribbled words.

Thank you for the lovely night, doll face.

— The Hockey Team

These boys had seen you at your most ruined, they had taken apart every bit of your composure until you literally blacked out in their arms and then they had washed you, brought you back to your own bed and tucked you into bed like you were something precious.

You were tracing the silver embroidery on the skates when the door to your dorm swung open with a violent bang. Zoya practically vibrated into the room in a whirlwind of excitement and messy hair, her voice was already at a pitch that made your sore head throb even more.

"You will not believe him!" she shrieked, collapsing onto the foot of your bed without even looking up. "Jungwon is—god, he's actually the sweetest human alive. He sent me like five texts checking if I got in okay, even though he walked me back and now we're going on a date tonight? I'm going to throw up, I'm so nervous. You have to help me, I need to breathe, I need—"

She stopped mid sentence when her eyes finally landed on you. Her jaw dropped as she took in the oversized hoodie, the tangled mess of your hair and the undeniable hickey just above your collarbone. Then, her gaze drifted to the massive basket and the gleaming skates.

"Oh my," she breathed, her voice dropping into a stunned, reverent whisper. "Wait...is this from Jay? Stop, that is actually so hot. Did you guys...did you actually have sex? Tell me everything!"

"Yeah…we did. Something like that."

"No way! You're kidding! And he sent all this!?" Zoya shrieked, lunging forward to tackle you into the pillows while you wracked your brain for a less insane version of the story you were going to feed her, a version where you had sex with just Jay.

Exactly three weeks later, it was hockey season and the biting chill of the practice rink felt like a sanctuary these days rather than a chore. You glided through a series of warm up laps with the other ice girls in the brand new skates that now felt like a natural extension of your own body. They were perfectly broken in, like a silent reminder of a night that still felt like a fever dream every time you closed your eyes.

Zoya was a few feet away in a blur of focus and grace. She tucked into a tight, centered spin, her arms pulling in as she gained a dizzying amount of speed. It was genuinely impressive, she had the kind of technical precision that usually took years to master and you couldn't help but pause to watch her finish with a sharp flourish. "Show off," you teased her.

She laughed but her attention was immediately pulled toward the far end of the rink when the loud thud of the gate opening echoed through the arena, followed by the aggressive clack-clack of blades hitting the ice. The hockey team was filing out for their scheduled practice and their presence instantly shifted the energy of the room from quiet focus to something loud and electric.

Jungwon didn't even bother wavering the moment he spotted Zoya, he skated straight to her in fluid movements despite the heavy pads. He caught her by the waist and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips that had her giggling like a schoolgirl.

"See you after?" he asked loud enough for you to hear, before skating off toward the center circle. As you watched him skate away, your eyes drifted to the rest of the team and you found Jake almost immediately. He was leaning against the boards with his helmet tucked under one arm while he watched you with those eyes. When he realized you were looking back at him, he didn't look away, instead he let his eyes drop to the silver initials on your skates before snapping back to yours with a wink that said everything and nothing at all.

Zoya’s head whipped toward you, her eyes wide cause she caught the tail end of the exchange. "Woah, woah—what was that? Jake? Seriously?" She skated closer and poked your arm with a gloved finger. "Does Jay know his teammate is giving you those kinds of googly eyes? Are you trying to start a locker room war?"

A slow heat curled in your gut but didn't say a word. You just looked at her and held her gaze for a beat, then made a deliberate show of zipping your lips together and throwing away the key with a flick of your wrist.

"Stop! You are so mean!" Zoya squealed, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around in a circle. She started whining, her voice echoing off the high ceilings as she begged for just one little detail. "You can't do that to me! I tell you everything about Jungwon! Is it a thing? Is it a secret thing?"

You just laughed, the sound bright and clear against the ice, enjoying the way she was spiraling into a hysterical frenzy. You watched the guys start their drills—Heeseung’s effortless authority, Jay’s raw power, Jake’s erratic energy and Sunghoon’s cold precision.

Zoya could have her dinner dates and her sweet texts with Jungwon, this was a secret that no one else needed to know—except, perhaps, next year's chosen ice girl.

God help her.

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Jay and Jake were in something of a social exile, their messy, years long deception finally curdling their reputations but who really cares about people being gay these days? But Sunghoon was a victim, he was the noble boyfriend who had been betrayed by his girlfriend and his best friend. The narrative was perfect and the rewards were even better. His gaze shifted to the door of the ensuite bathroom, you were in there probably fixing your makeup, moving with that quiet, tentative tread you'd adopted lately. For four weeks you’d become a shell of yourself, so consumed by the guilt of your mistake with Jay that you had become a servant to Sunghoon's every whim. You cooked for him, you anticipated his moods, always looking at him with such desperate eyes that it almost made him want to laugh. You were working so hard to earn back the trust of a man who had never actually lost it because he had never been faithful to begin with.

Then there was Leah.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand with a text that he didn't even need to open to know it was from her. Leah was a different kind of fun. Where you were desperate for forgiveness, Leah was oh so desperate for supremacy. She was obsessed with the secret they shared—the adrenaline of cheating right under your nose made her crazy in a way Sunghoon was oddly attracted to. She wanted to be his number one and she was willing to degrade herself in ways you wouldn't dream of just to prove she was more loyal than you.

He had you both exactly where he wanted you, you in his bed seeking redemption and Leah in the shadows seeking a title.

The door opened and you stepped out wearing one of his oversized shirts looking so small and fragile. "I made you coffee," you told him, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to touch his hand like you were afraid he'd recoil. "What are your plans today, Hoon?"

Sunghoon reached out, tangling his fingers in your hair to pull you closer. He didn't answer immediately, he liked to let the silence stretch until you looked like you were on the verge of tears.

"I’m not sure yet," he finally murmured, his voice smooth and devoid of the hurt he had been weaponizing for the past four weeks. He felt a surge of power, Sunghoon had cheated, he had lied and in the grand scheme of things he had won. He was the only one who knew the truth and as long as he kept you and Leah spiraling in your own competitions, he would never have to pay for a thing, he would never pay for the consequences of his actions.

"You're a good girl," he added, loving the way you visibly melted at the words. He caught his reflection in the mirror opposite the bed, feeling utterly untouchable.

He trailed his hands to your waist and adjusted you so you were now straddling him, his face buried for a moment in the crook of your neck. He breathed you in, savoring the way you stayed perfectly still, as if you were yielding to him completely. This was his favorite part of the game, he loved the absolute submission born from your misplaced shame.

The relentless vibration of his phone against the nightstand broke the silence. He reached for it and immediately let out a hiss of annoyance, tossing the device back onto the mattress as if it had burned him and rolling his eyes so hard it looked painful.

"What is it, babe?" you asked, your hand tentatively smoothing the hair at the nape of his neck. "Did something happen?"

"My father," he spat the name like a curse. "He wants another one of those miserable family dinners tomorrow. God, I hate that word. He always uses it like it's supposed to mean something."

He leaned back again, the mask of the composed victim was slipping to reveal the raw edges of his elitism and if you weren't so blinded by your own consuming guilt, you would've noticed it immediately. "Those people aren't my family. They're more like intruders. That woman is nothing but a gold digger and a whore who caught my father at a weak moment, and her son—" He cut himself off with a bitter laugh. "Jungwon is the most arrogant, insufferable brat I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. He walks around that house like he owns the fucking floorboards and father just eats it up."

You stayed quiet, just letting him vent and tracing soothing circles against his skin until the tension in his shoulders finally began to bleed away. You were the only one who could tame him like this, or at least he let you believe you were. He felt a smug sense of pride watching you work so hard to fix his mood.

His phone buzzed again and this time he snatched it up, you watched his lip curl in disgust as he read the second message. "How fantastic. It gets better, baby. Apparently, the little prince wants to introduce his new girlfriend to everyone. My father expects us to be there to welcome her into the fold."

Sunghoon tossed the phone aside again and pulled you flush against his chest this time, sliding his down to grip your hips possessively. "I can already see her," he scoffed with condescension. "Some airhead who's fallen for Jungwon's perfect gentleman act. Probably some flavor of the month socialite who doesn't have two fucking brain cells to rub together. Jungwon has zero taste, he just picks whoever is going to look best in a photo op."

"But I have to go. I'd rather endure a night of staring at whatever bimbo he's brought home than deal with my father's lectures about unity and him dangling my trust over my head. You're coming with me, of course. I need you there to remind them what a real woman looks like."

His lips nipped at your earlobe, a dark smile spreading on his lips. "And besides...I want them to see how much you adore me. It'll make Jungwon's little debut look pathetic in comparison."

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words

"Hoon...I can't tomorrow. It's my sister's bridal shower remember? I told you about it last week, I'm supposed to be there all day."

Sunghoon's hands on your hips went rigid the second the words left your mouth, he didn't say a word at first, he did stare at you with those piercing eyes that made you feel like a specimen under a microscope.

"A bridal shower," he repeated. "So your sister's party is more important than my father's command? More important than supporting me through a night with those vultures?"

"Hoon, please, I've been planning it for months," your heart already beginning to race. "I'm the maid of honor, I can't just—"

"I bet if it were Jay asking, you'd find a way to be there," he snapped. It was his favorite weapon these days, the ultimate trump card he pulled whenever he wanted to remind you of your place.

"No! Hoon, that's not fair, you know I—I'll do anything to make it up to you, I promise. I'll come over right after, I'll stay the whole weekend, I'll—"

"Shut it," he muttered, his hurt victim act vanishing to reveal the cold tyrant beneath. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You're all the same. You claim you want to earn my trust but the second I actually need you, you have plans."

He stood up abruptly, roughly shifting his weight so suddenly that he tossed you off his lap. You landed on the mattress with a soft thud, scrambling to sit up as he looked down at you with utter disdain. He wasn't even looking at your face anymore; his gaze was fixed on your legs, his expression almost transactional.

"If you're going to be useless to me at dinner, you might as well be useful to me now," he said with no affection in his tone. "Take your panties off. Now."

You looked at him, searching for even a flicker of the boy who used to love you so much but all you saw was the man who held your reputation in his hands. Shaking, your fingers moved to the waistband of your lace underwear, slowly sliding them down your legs while he watched you with a bored look on his face.

He stood there enjoying the sight of your submission. "You're going to stay just like that until I'm satisfied," he murmured as he pushed his pajama pants down slowly. "And maybe, if you're good enough, I'll consider forgiving you for being so selfish."

──.୨ৎ

Sunghoon killed the engine of his car but he couldn't bring himself to move yet, he needed the time to gather himself so he sat in the silence of his leather trimmed sanctuary, gripping the steering wheel until his fingers started to tingle. Outside, the sprawling driveway of the Park estate was bathed in the warm, mocking glow of the mansion's exterior lights but then the his eyes caught the baby blue G-Wagon parked crookedly just a few yards away.

The vehicle seemed to be rocking on its suspension in a rhythmic, almost violent motion that made Sunghoon's lip curl in a snarl of pure disgust. Even though the windows were tinted, the silhouettes were unmistakable.

Of course, Sunghoon thought. The venom in his mind dripping over every word. Of course the little prince couldn't even make it through the front door without acting like a rutting animal.

He stepped out of his car, the click of his shoes against the gravel was sharp and as he drew closer to the car to head toward the front steps, the soundproofing of the luxury SUV failed to drown out the noise. The girl's moans were high pitched and entirely too loud for a residential driveway.

"Do you like that?" His step brother's voice drifted out, it was muffled but recognizable with ghat smug arrogance that made Sunghoon's stomach turn. "Tell me you love my cock. Tell me who you belong to."

"Yes! Yes, I love it! Please, Wonie!" the girl screamed, her voice hitting an airheaded crescendo that echoed off the stone walls.

It made Sunghoon stop in his tracks, his frame rigid and his expression a mask of frozen disdain. Disgusting. Utterly primitive. He looked up at the darkened windows of his father's study, wondering how the man could be so blind. This was the boy his father was constantly comparing him to—a boy who had zero respect for the family home, zero dignity and apparently, zero standards as well.

Jungwon's new girlfriend was exactly what he expected—a loud, brainless girl with no sense of decorum, willing to be bent over the console of a car like a common street whore. To think his father expected Sunghoon to sit at a table to break bread and play nice with a girl who was currently screaming her lungs out in the driveway was an insult to his very existence.

She isn't even worth the effort of an introduction, Sunghoon thought, smoothing his jacket with a sharp motion. She's a placeholder, a toy for a boy who doesn't know the first thing about power or restraint.

He had just spent his whole day yesterday making you beg for a scrap of his grace and here was his step brother, practically begging for the attention of a girl who sounded like she had the depth of a light rain puddle.

He reached the front doors and the heavy oak door swung back to reveal the sterile, golden grandeur of the foyer. He would literally give anything for his father to see the contrast between the son who arrived with composure and the boy who was currently staining the interior of a Mercedes.

He didn't even have his coat off before the sound of heels clicking against marble announced her arrival. "Sunghoon! You're finally here," she chirped, smelling of expensive perfume and desperation—a combination he'd learned to identify long ago.

She reached out, arms opening for a motherly embrace that smelled just as shallow as her wedding vows, but Sunghoon didn't break his stride, he side stepped her instead. Not even a flinch and she was left hugging the air where he had been a second before, her hands awkwardly clutching at nothing, she was quick to catch herself though.

"Where is my father?" Sunghoon asked not even looking at her, too busy adjusting his watch, as if her proximity alone had somehow knocked his perfection out of alignment.

"He's in his study with—"

"Perfect," he interrupted, finally sliding his eyes toward her with the kind of look he usually gave Leah when she cried too loudly. "Try not to hover. It's unbecoming."

"Now, now, Sunghoon," his father's voice boomed from the top of the stairs, bouncing off the walls with that easy confidence that only comes with a high net worth. He descended the steps with a soft smile, looking every bit the patriarch he was. "Don't be so cold to your mother. She's just happy to see you."

He didn't even look at the woman standing there but he felt her presence like a smudge on a clean window. "She's not my mother," the words barely leaving his lips. It was like reflex to him now, a small piece of truth he threw out every time they decided to do this dance. His father swept past him but not before clapping a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "Let's sit. I'm starving and I have a feeling the kitchen has outdone itself tonight."

"Jungwon is just a little late," his step mother sang out. "He'll be here any second, I'm sure of it."

Little late, Sunghoon thought, his eyes focused on the dust motes dancing in the light of the chandelier. Jungwon is fucking some bimbo in the driveway and he's going to walk in here soon and pretend nothing happened. He pulled out his chair, imagining you sitting there beside him, then he remembered why you weren't there, he remembered you were at your sister's bridal shower and it made a bitter taste flood his mouth.

"Oh, Sunghoon! You really should have met the lovely girl Jungwon brought over last weekend," her voice rising in excitement as she began to pour the wine. "She is just the sweetest thing. So polite and wholesome. She's exactly the kind of girl Jungwon needs."

Sunghoon's gaze stayed fixed on the silver fork in front of him, polite and wholesome. He wanted to laugh at the thought of a girl who could debase herself in the front of her boyfriend's family home as polite and wholesome. He wondered if Jungwon's girl had any idea what kind of animal she was dating or if she was just another prop in his step brother's own twisted theater.

"I'm sure she's a delight," Sunghoon said sarcastically. "I look forward to seeing how long she lasts before she realizes what kind of man your son is." He smiled at her but that smile quickly dropped when he heard his father's raised voice. "Park Sunghoon!" "You will not speak about your brother like that! We respect each other in this house." Those words unfortunately led to a lecture that somehow pivoted to his college education, "Law school isn't just about the pedigree, Sunghoon," his father continued with his usual steady drone of expectations. "It's about the endurance. Your grades are stable, but I need to see more focus. Less time at those campus parties, more time in the archives. You need to understand that once you graduate, the grace period is—"

The heavy dining room doors groaned open cutting the words from his father short. Sunghoon didn't even look up at first, his mind had drifted back to the annoyance he felt toward you for choosing a bridal shower over him. He was ready to watch Jungwon stroll in with some mindless girl he'd picked up from a sorority house, he was simply prepared to be unimpressed.

"Sorry for the wait," Jungwon's voice rang out, making the hair on the back of Sunghoon's neck stand up for some reason. "We got a little...distracted."

Sunghoon's eyes finally snapped up and for a second the world tilted, the grandeur of the room seemed to bleed into a blur of sickening realization. There, standing on Jungwon's arm, was you. You weren't at a bridal shower, you weren't wearing some floral sundress or helping your sister with ribbons and party games. You were wearing something sharp, that made you look expensive and sinful and your lips were slightly swollen—the exact same way they looked when Sunghoon finished with you.

The girl he had been internally mocking for being wholesome, the girl Jungwon had just been fucking in the driveway while Sunghoon watched with clinical disgust from the window.

It was you.

"Oh, sweetheart! You're back!" Jungwon's mother gushed, already on her feet with a beaming, smile. She crossed the room to you and took your hands in hers as if you were already her daughter. "It's so good to see you again. Jungwon hasn't stopped talking about how much he adores you since last weekend."

Sunghoon felt the air leave his lungs, his vision tunneled until all he could see was the way Jungwon's hand stayed firmly planted on the small of your back in a possessive touch that screamed of intimacy.

His mind quickly became a violent loop of contradictions. You told me you were with your family. You told me you were guilty. You're my toy. You're the one I broke. Across the table, Jungwon caught Sunghoon's eyes and he didn't look away when a smirk made its way to his face. Jungwon had been playing a much deeper game than Sunghoon ever realized.

"Sunghoon hyung," Jungwon said, his voice dripping with politeness that really just felt like a slap. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't tell me you forgot to say hello to my girlfriend?"

"It's nice to see you again, Sunghoon," you say with no usual tremor in your voice, you even offer him a small smile, the type someone gives a person they’re not close to, or a loser. Every instinct he has is screaming at him to lung forward, to grab your wrist and drag you out into the hallway and demand what the hell you're doing. The bridal shower? The lie tasted like ash in his mouth.

But his father is watching.

"You two know each other?" his father asks, clearly interested in the silence radiating from his eldest son

"We go to the same university," Jungwon quickly answers for you, pulling out your chair at the same time. "Small world, right?"

Sunghoon forced a breath through his nose and looked at you, trying to find a flicker of the girl who had been begging for his forgiveness for the past four weeks but all he could see was the sweetheart his stepmother had praised…Jungwon’s girlfriend.

"Small indeed," Sunghoon finally managed to say.

"Anyway," Jungwon's mother chirped, oblivious to the silent war happening across the centerpiece. "Tell us everything! How did you two meet? It must have been so romantic."

Sunghoon's eyes locked onto yours, like he was still trying to see if he could control you, to have you show some fear or even some shame but you just looked away and answered her question. "It was actually very sweet, Ma’am."

"He helped me when I was really in need and I couldn’t help myself—I fell for him. Jungwon really is a darling. You’ve raised him well."

Jungwon really was sweet to you, well maybe not in the beginning at least. The silence of the library was usually your sanctuary, it was the one place where the suffocating guilt of that night didn't feel like it was actively crushing your chest. For two weeks, you had been living in a state of self inflicted pain. You had replayed that night a thousand times, from the look on Sunghoon's face, to the sound of Heeseung and Calista’s laughs and without even realizing it, you had let Sunghoon turn that guilt and pain into a collar.

You were trying so hard, you’d even gone to Leah for advice, finding solace and comfort in her from time to time, genuinely believing she was your best friend.

Your phone buzzed on the table with a notification.

Unknown Number: [1 Video Attachment]

You thought it was a scam or perhaps another cruel joke from Heeseung but then you pressed play.

The video was in high definition, filmed from a distant balcony view. You immediately recognized the blue shimmer of the pool in Sunghoon’s family estate from when you’d spent weekends there. He told you he was traveling out of town for family business, he had ben insinuated it was a somber trip he needed to take alone to clear his head from the stress you had caused him.

In the frame, Sunghoon wasn't working or relaxing to clear his head. He was on a lounge chair by the pool, his head tilted back and his hands gripping the waist of a girl who was straddling him with practiced ease.

You dropped the phone like it had burned you when said girl threw her head back and you saw Leah’s face. You began to tremble right there in the library thinking of all the times you’d confided in her, yet here she was—fucking your boyfriend. You picked up your phone again with shaking hands and watched him pull her down for a kiss in that same way he kissed you and you felt your world fracture. The guilt that had been your shadow suddenly vanished, replaced by a cold clarity. Through your blurry eyes filling with tears you see two more notifications.

Unknown Number: He thinks he's alone. Hyung’s always been bad at checking corners.

Unknown Number: It’s Jungwon btw. I believe we have a mutual interest in making sure Sunghoon doesn't get everything he wants. Give me a call if you're tired of being the only one holding the debt.

You hesitated before managing to walk out of the library to dial the number. Jungwon answered on the first ring. "I wondered how long it would take you to watch it," he said sounding entirely too amused with himself.

"Why are you showing me this?" you whispered with a rage you didn't know you had.

"Because my brother has a habit of collecting things he doesn't appreciate," Jungwon said to you. "He likes the way he can make you cry and then make you thank him for it. And I find it so fucking boring. Don’t you think it's insulting to someone with your...potential?"

"What do you want?"

"I just want to see the look on his face when his perfect life finally collapses." You could’ve sworn you could just sense the evil radiating through the phone. "He hates me, you know? He thinks I'm some intruder in his house. Imagine how he'll feel when he finds out his broken little girlfriend is actually mine."

"I'm not yours," you snapped.

"Not yet," Jungwon countered, he really did have alluring energy about him. "But think about it. I’m pretty sure you want revenge and I want to replace him. We could be useful to each other."

You could’ve gotten nominated for an academy award with the way you acted in the weeks leading up to tonight. You played the part of the guilty girlfriend so perfectly, there was no doubt you had him fooled, you nodded when he ranted about his useless problems. You watched him get angry when you told him you couldn’t come to dinner with him, you watched him use your mistake to try and manipulate you into canceling. And for the first time it didn't hurt at all, it just made you want to see him burn even more.

When you first met Jungwon for dinner, you no doubt had your guard up. You fully expected a younger, maybe louder version of Sunghoon. Instead, you found a natural born predator who knew how to hide his teeth really. He was the perfect gentleman, pulling out your chair and listening with an intensity that Sunghoon only ever reserved for his own reflection. He didn't lecture you on your how you’d made a mistake by getting with his step brother in the first place, or that you trusted him too much but by the end of the night you felt like you were the only person in the room.

You had to keep repeating the mantra in your head—they aren't blood, they aren't related. It was the only way to keep the vertigo from taking over. Jungwon was supposedly the intruder in Sunghoon's life, their relationship was simply a byproduct of a second marriage and that distance was exactly what made the idea of him so dangerous.

You didn't intend to go home with him that first night, in fact you didn’t intend to ever go home with him at all and you certainly didn't intend to let him touch you. But then you were in the parking lot and the city lights were blurred by the tinted glass of his car, the air between you turned electric. You quickly found out he had a thing for fucking in cars, maybe it was the claustrophobia of the leather seats or the risk of being seen, you had no idea, all you knew was that it was primal and messy. You also quickly found out you had a thing for how easily he could unravel you.

Sex with Sunghoon always felt like an audition, you were constantly performing for him, having to say the right things so he would be satisfied. Jungwon didn’t care about any of that, he was too focused on the way your face looked when he was bouncing you on his cock, he always made sure you lost your voice and wouldn’t stop until you were shaking and begging.

And tonight in the driveway, he was exactly the same. Pinning you against the backseat and reminding you of exactly what you were about to do. He made you cum so hard you nearly forgot your own name, let alone the fact that you were a mere thirty feet from his family.

"Think of how much he thinks he owns you and then tell me how good this cock feels." It damn sure felt better than anything Sunghoon had ever given you.

Now, as you sit across from Sunghoon at his father's table, you can still feel the faint ache in your thighs, along with the ghost of Jungwon's touch under your dress. You look at Sunghoon, he looks pale as he vibrates with a repressed fury and you realize the debt has almost been paid in full.

As the main course is served and the clink of silverware is the only sound in the room, Sunghoon finally speaks in a voice so low it's almost a growl. "So, Jungwon...exactly how long has this romance been going on? You've been rather quiet about her."

Jungwon takes a slow sip of his wine, his eyes dancing in delight as he looks at you the back at his step brother. "Long enough for me to know she’s the one," he says, reaching under the table to slide his hand up your inner thigh, mere inches away from where Sunghoon's eyes are fixed. "She's so full of surprises, Hyung. I absolutely adore her." He finishes placing a kiss on your cheek at which his mother gushes in excitement.

From then on the night becomes full blown psychological torture for Sunghoon. Every time you laugh at one of his father's dry jokes or offer some soft words to Jungwon’s mother, it’s like you can feel Sunghoon's pulse drumming from across the table. He looks like a man watching his own house burn down while being forced to applaud the flames. The irony is thick enough to choke on. His father, who he has spent his entire life trying to impress is completely charmed by you.

"Sunghoon," his father says, leaning with a rare look of genuine approval on his face. "You should take notes. Jungwon has finally shown some discernment. You'd do well to find a girl just like this lovely lady right here. Not like those...distractions you usually surround yourself with."

Sunghoon's knuckles are white with how hard he’s trying not to scream. He wants to stand up and roar that you are his girl, that you belong in his apartment and under his thumb, drowning in the guilt he spent a month cultivating. But he can't because to speak up now would be to admit he lost control, it would be him admitting that Jungwon, the arrogant intruder, took something right from under his nose.

When dinner finally ends and you and Jungwon reach the doors of the foyer, ready to leave, Sunghoon doesn’t just follow you, he marches towards you and lunges forward, grabbing your wrist with so much force that you wince.

"What the fuck is this, Y/n?" he hissed, his eyes darting between you and his step-brother. "What are you doing here? The bridal shower? You think you can just lie to me and walk into my father's house on his arm?" He turns his anger toward Jungwon. "And you. You think this is some fucking game? You think you can just take whatever—"

"Woah, woah," Jungwon interjects, stepping forward with a lazy calm, not looking the least bit intimidated, he just looks like he's enjoying every second of Sunghoon's meltdown as he places a firm hand on Sunghoon's forearm, forcing him to loosen his grip on you. "Please don't talk to my girlfriend like that, Hyung. It's a bit ungentlemanly, don't you think?"

Sunghoon's eyes go wide as his chest heaves. "Your girlfriend? Jungwon, you have no idea what you're talking about. She’s not—"

"Are you lost, Hoonie?"

You step closer to him, tilting your head and pouting up at him with the same innocence he used to mock you. The look in your eyes is stone cold though, you’re looking at him like he's a stranger and a pathetic one at that. "You seem really confused. Maybe the stress of law school is finally getting to you."

Jungwon chuckles, pulling you back against his side, his arm draping possessively over your waist. "Seems like he is, princess. He's completely lost it."

Jungwon looks his brother up and down, "Tell you what, hyung," he starts. "Why don't you pull up to my penthouse tonight? I feel like I missed out on all the fun the other night. Let's play another game of paranoia. I have a few questions of my own...and I’m sure you want answers."

Sunghoon stands there frozen in the doorway of his own home, as Jungwon leads you toward the car. He even watches the taillights fade until the silence of the estate settles over him like a shroud.

The drive to Jungwon’s place was a blur of neon lights and tight knuckled grips for Sunghoon. His mind was a chaotic mess of logic and jagged anger, he had managed to convince himself he was going there to talk sense into you, to drag you away from the toxic influence of his step brother and remind you of the debt you owed him. But as he stepped out of the elevator and into the sleek entryway of Jungwon's apartment, the air felt different and he began to doubt if he could actually pull it off.

The heavy bass of the music didn't sound like a party to him, it sounded like a taunt.

He walked right to the living room and expected to find you and Jungwon alone in some twisted confrontation. Instead, he was met with a scene that felt like a curated nightmare.

The usual crowd was scattered across the plush sofas. Jake was leaning against the bar, looking entirely too comfortable in Jay’s arms. The litmus test from a month ago had clearly reached its conclusion and Sunghoon was the only one who hadn't been invited to the reveal.

Leah was also there tucked into the corner of a sectional, looking like she wanted to completely disappear. The second Sunghoon's eyes found her, she flinched and dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap. She couldn’t look him in the eye in a way that had Sunghoon wondering if they’d been caught.

Then, he saw you perched comfortably on Jungwon's lap, your fingers idly playing with his chain as if it was the most natural place in the world for you to be. Ume was leaning in close, letting you whisper something into her ear that made her throw her head back in a genuine laugh.

You wouldn't have been brazen enough to invite Calista or Heeseung but this group of people felt more intimate somehow.

"Well, well," a voice chirped, breaking through the ringing in Sunghoon's ears. Jake straightened up as he looked Sunghoon up and down. "Look who decided to show up. You've been a very bad boy, Hoonie. Keeping secrets, hiding away...I didn't think you had it in you to be this messy."

Sunghoon didn't even acknowledge him, his eyes were locked on you, burning with a question he couldn't ask out loud in front of them for fear of humiliation.

Jungwon tightened his hold on your waist and pulled you a fraction closer as he looked up at his brother. The lighting in the penthouse was dim, casting long, predatory shadows across his face. "You're late, Sunghoon," Jungwon said, his voice smooth and almost welcoming, if Sunghoon didn’t know what Jungwon was like, he wouldn’t have noticed the edge his voice carried.

"But don't worry. We haven't started the game yet. We were just waiting for the guest of honor to arrive."

You finally looked at him then, observing his disheveled hair and his erratic breathing with a detached sort of pity that hurt worse than a slap.

"Sit down, Sunghoon," you said mirroring the exact tone he had used on you for weeks. "You look tired. You should have a drink before we start. You're going to need it."

As everyone settled into the makeshift circle, you were clearly the center of gravity on Jungwon's lap, while Sunghoon was an island of his own misery on the far edge of the room.

"Everyone remembers the rules, right?" you asked, your voice cutting through the low hum of the music. You didn't wait for an answer, you immediately leaned into Jungwon, letting your lips brush against the shell of his ear to whisper the first strike. "Who here is a lying, cheating bastard?"

A dark, amused huff escaped him as he looked directly across the space. "Sunghoon."

The silence that followed was deafening. Sunghoon didn't argue, he simply reached for his glass, willing his hand to stop trembling and drained it in one jagged motion. Jungwon's smirk widened as he revealed the question to the room, watching the realization sink into the group like lead.

When the turn moved to Sunghoon, he stared at his empty glass, before muttering a, "Pass."

The room erupted in mock boos and biting whistles. "Afraid of the truth, Sunghoon?" Jake teased before leaning back into Jay's touch. "Golden boy can't even play a party game?"

Jungwon didn't let the momentum die. He leaned toward Ume, whispering a question that made her eyes go wide. She gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. "No way! I don't know—who is it?"

The curiosity in the room spiked while Ume looked around the circle. "The question was...Who here is pregnant?"

Jay and Jake exchanged a stunned look while Sunghoon's gaze darted around frantically, if you weren't reacting, if you were sitting there with that calm smile then it wasn't you. And Ume had already denied it, so that left only one person.

Leah.

Who was sat perfectly still, eyes fixed on a spot on the rug as her face continued to drain of color.

Sunghoon looked at her then at you, feeling the bile rising in his throat. From the pool lounge chair, to the laundry room and every other place he had had sex with her—it all crashed down on him at once, he looked like he was about to be physically sick.

"Leah is pregnant," your voice rang out with a terrifying lack of emotion. The words hit Sunghoon like a physical blow, he had spent a month trying to make you pay for cheating on him with Jay, all while he was planting the seeds of his own destruction in a girl he treated like a toy.

"Is it true?" Sunghoon asked her with his voice sounding like it was being dragged over broken glass. He looked at Leah, eyes wide with a mix of horror and disgust. "Leah, she’s just fucking around, right?"

The silence was her confession.

"Sounds like hyung has some responsibilities he forgot to mention to the family," Jungwon mused, "I wonder what father would think about his future law student starting a family a little ahead of schedule?"

Jake, ever the catalyst of drama leaned into Leah’s space to whisper in her ear, who looked like she was vibrating, a single sob catching in her throat as she forced out a name. "Sunghoon."

Sunghoon didn't even wait for the reveal, he immediately reached for the bottle this time, not a glass to take a desperate swig.

"The question," Jake announced with terrifying cheerfulness, "was, Who here is your baby daddy?"

"You're a lying bitch!" Sunghoon roared, finally losing the mask of superiority he'd worn like a shield for years. He surged forward, his finger pointed at Leah like a weapon. "You're lying! You're trying to trap me because you're obsessed with what Y/n and I have—you'd say anything to stay in my life!"

Leah finally looked up and the fear was gone, now replaced by an intensity that made her eyes burn. "I'm not lying, Sunghoon! I have never been with anyone else! You were my first and only one. You know I'm not lying! Did you ever wear a condom with me? You took everything from me and now you want to call me a liar?" "Screw you."

The silence that followed was so heavy that Jay and Jake couldn’t even mock him anymore, all they could do was just watch the car crash with satisfied expressions. Sunghoon looked around the room with wild eyes, looking for anyone to defend him but he lost all hope when you snorted, "What Y/n and I have is crazy, Sunghoon."

You looked at him with a gaze so filled with fake tenderness that it felt like a twist of a knife.

"Oh, Hoonie," you cooed, echoing the way he used to comfort you after making you cry your eyes out. "Don't be like that. This is a blessing, isn't it?"

"Think about it this way," you continued, "A little girl who looks just like you or maybe even a boy with your grace. You, Leah and the baby. You're going to make such a beautiful family. I can already see the Christmas cards. I'm sure your father will be so proud to see his legacy continuing so...unexpectedly."

Sunghoon looked at you as the realization truly sank in, the realization that the girl he thought he'd broken was the one who had choreographed his funeral.

"I'll even help with the baby shower," you added, the pout returning to your lips. "Since I missed my sister's bridal shower, I have plenty of free time now."

Jungwon let out a low chuckle, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck to tangle his fingers in your hair. "Hear that, Hyung? My princess is even offering to help. You really should be more grateful." He said to him before leaning to Ume to whisper in her ear but she immediately threw her hands up in frustration, the constant whispering finally getting on her nerves. "Seriously? I don't know! Why am I the one getting the hard ones?" She pouted, turning to the circle with her voice loud and fed up. "How am I meant to know who here has lost their inheritance? What does that even mean?"

Sunghoons head snapped toward Jungwon, the defensive look in his eyes was replaced by a sudden dread. He didn't reach for the glass this time, he could barely move.

"What the fuck are you on about, Jungwon?" Sunghoon's voice was a ghost of its former self, all thin and terrified. Jungwon, on the other hand didn't even look up from where he was tracing patterns on your thigh.

"Don’t tell me you didn’t read the fine print, Hyung?" Jungwon asked, "I guess you were so busy being a manipulative cunt that you didn't read the updated trust clauses father had us sign last year."

Jungwon finally looked at him. "It's a purity clause. Father is obsessed with the family image, you should know that better than anyone. It's written in black and white tha any son who produces an illegitimate child, especially one that creates a social scandal, automatically forfeits their entire inheritance. Every cent. The trust, the property, the firm...it all funnels into a single beneficiary."

Jungwon explained and pulled you closer against his chest, "And since I'm currently the only son without a pregnant side chick...it looks like I'm about to become very, very wealthy."

Sunghoon looked like he was seconds away from passing out. His eyes shifted between you and Leah, who was still trembling and clutching her stomach area. One, the girl who had been his broken possession and the other girl who was now the only thing standing between him and complete ruin—and you were sitting comfortably in the lap of the man who was taking his whole life away.

"You knew," he whispered, his gaze landing on you. "You both knew."

"Knew that what, Sunghoon?" "No one asked you to cheat and get a girl pregnant."

"I’d check your pocket if I were you, Hyung," Jungwon said. "I’m pretty sure you’re about to get a call. And you know Father—he hates being kept waiting."

Right on cue, the sharp ringtone of Sunghoon’s phone cut through the sound of Leah’s crying. The name on the screen was enough to make Sunghoon’s knees buckle. He answered with a trembling hand. "Father—"

"You fucking embarrassment!"

The shout was so loud it echoed through the silent room making Sunghoon flinch as if he’d been struck.

"Tell me Jungwon is mistaken!" his father roared over the line. "Tell me you didn't get some girl pregnant! Tell me you haven't been dragging our name through the mud while I was planning your future!"

Sunghoon looked at you as you slowly pressed a lingering kiss to Jungwon’s lips that made him smile.

"Father, please, she’s...she’s a liar," Sunghoon choked out as he looked at Leah. "She’s trying to trap me, I swear—"

Leah’s sob broke into a scream at the word liar but no one moved to comfort her. In the background, Ume was busy gushing over Jay and Jake, her voice a cheerful anddistorted contrast to the carnage. "Oh my god, you guys are actually the cutest! Why did you wait so long?" She pouted at them, watching Jay nuzzle his face deeper to Jake’s neck

"I don't want to hear it!" his father’s voice got louder and louder. "If you’re man enough to play these games then I suppose you’re man enough to fund them. You’re cut off, Sunghoon. Don't bother coming back to the estate to beg for anything! As of right now, you do not exist to me."

The line went dead before he could even think of any sort of explanation to give the man.

The phone slipped from Sunghoon’s fingers and clattered on the floor. He looked at you, then at the happy couple Ume was currently asking a million questions about how they first got together, and finally he looked at the pregnant girl in the corner.

He had spent his life trying to be a masterpiece of calculated moves and manipulative counters but in the end, he was just a footnote in your story.

"Time to go, Hyung," Jungwon said to him with a voice filled with satisfied pity. "You’ve got a family to take care of now."

Before the words could even reach Sunghoon’s ears properly, Jungwon moved with a sudden burst of energy, he hooked his arm around your waist and hoisted you up.

A startled squeal escaped you as you were flipped over his shoulder, your legs kicking out instinctively. "Jungwon! Put me down!" you laughed a mocking laugh that echoed off the walls.

Jungwon didn't listen to you, tightening his grip on your thighs instead as he began to stride toward the hallway. You looked back over his shoulder one last time to see Sunghoon standing frozen like a ghost in a room full of people who had already forgotten him.

"Bye bye, Hoonie!" you called out sweetly with a final dose of irony.

When the heavy door to Jungwon’s bedroom clicked shut, it instantly muffled the sounds of Leah’s crying and the silence of the foyer. Jungwon set you down gently against the door, his hands immediately finding your waist. "So, how did that feel?" he whispered as his eyes searched yours and his thumb traced the line of your lower lip. "Seeing him lose everything?"

"Exhilarating," you breathed, sliding your hands up to cup his face. It wasn't just about the revenge or the power shift anymore.

Jungwon’s expression softened as he looked at you. He didn't just see a partner in a scheme, he saw the only person who truly understood the darkness he had grown up in.

"Good," he murmured with a genuine warmth he saved only for you. "Because from now on, you don't ever have to play for second place again."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss that wasn't for show or for an audience. It was slow, deep, and filled with a real affection—a promise that while the rest of your world was built on paranoia and lies, what was happening in this room was the only thing that was real.

nene’s note ── posting this from the hospital cause my mama didn’t raise no bitch! i loveeee feedback and i hope this met the expectations of everyone who was anticipating it! enjoy💋💋💋

You shift your feet on the carpet, your knees brushing against Jake on your left and Heeseung on your right. You're still trying to wrap your head around the rules Calista just laid out, her voice sweet but carrying an edge that suggests she's played this game to destroy people before. Your palms are already sweating against your jeans, as you look around the circle at Heeseung, you, Jake, Calista, Sunghoon, Leah, Jay, and Ume all sat in a circle. It feels like a predatory loop, you’ve always thought you were the observant one, the one who passes all her classes while everyone else is out partying, and being thrust into this dynamic feels like being a lamb at a wolf's dinner table.

"I'll start then," Jay says, his voice cutting through the hum of the air conditioner.

He leans over toward Leah, his silver rings glint in the light, as he whispers something into her ear, his expression stays unreadable. You watch Leah's face, she bites her lip and her eyes flicker around the circle before they land on someone. "Jake," she says clearly.

The room goes silent and Jake, who is sat right next to you lets out a dry chuckle. He doesn't hesitate for a second though, immediately reaching for the bottle of vodka in the center of the circle, pouring himself a heavy measure into the shot glass.

"I'm not staying in the dark for that," Jake says, looking straight Leah before tossing the drink back and slamming the glass down. "What was the question?"

Leah clears her throat, looking sheepish. "The question was...who here is most likely to not graduate?"

A few people let out oohs and light laughter, the tension breaking just enough for the game to feel tame. Jake rolls his eyes, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Harsh, Leah. I'm literally passing three of my labs right now."

But your heart is still beating a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The game is moving clockwise, so now it’s Jake's turn to whisper to you, he leans in so close that his shoulder presses firmly against yours and the scent of the alcohol on his breath mixes with his expensive cologne. His hand brushes your arm as he anchors himself to whisper in your ear. "Who in this room," he murmurs, his voice is so low it sends a vibration down your spine, "would you cheat on your partner with?"

A landmine of a question, and stupidly your eyes instinctively flick toward Jay and then toward Sunghoon, whose posture has gone unnervingly rigid beside you.

Your throat feels tight, your palms are slick with sweat. You know can't hesitate too long or you’ll look suspicious, so you take a breath and try to keep your voice steady. "Jay," you say.

Jay's eyebrows shoot up as a grin spreads across his face. He doesn't even look at the shot glass, going straight for the bottle instead, tilting it back for a throat burning swallow. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

"I definitely need to know the question for that one," Jay rasps, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "What did you ask our girl, Jake?"

Jake leans back. "The question was…who here would you cheat on your partner with?"

You feel the heavy silence that immediately falls over the circle, it’s suffocating in a way that precedes a storm. You feel Sunghoon's gaze burning into the side of your face, you don’t need to look at him to know his mouth is set in that angry line.

Suddenly the silence is broken by Calista’s sharp laugh, her face lit up maliciously. "Wait," her voice cuts through. "That's a bit redundant, innit? I mean, didn't you already do that?"

Fucking Calista.

You feel like you're shrinking into the floor as Leah and Ume exchange a wide eyed look. Before you can even think of what to say Sunghoon's voice snaps out, "Shut up, Calista," he says with a terrifying authority. He doesn't even look at her, he just stares straight ahead, his knuckles white where they're gripped around his own knees. "It's your turn to whisper to Heeseung." Well it’s not, by the rules of the game it should be Jay’s turn but no one bothers to correct Sunghoon.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and pretend you can’t sense the tension vibrating between you, Sunghoon and Jay.

Heeesung next to you is sat with a deceptively relaxed look on his face, his eyes betray him though, they remain sharp, tracking the fallout of the last round with interest.

You lean in, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance, "Who in this room," you whisper, "do you think is secretly an alcoholic?"

He stiffens for a split second before a raspy laugh leaves his chest. He pulls back with a smirk dancing on his lips as he scans the faces in the circle, lingering on the glass in Leah's hand. "Leah," he says, his voice clear and resonant. "Obviously."

Her name lands with a dull thud but Heeseung doesn't stop there, he leans back on his elbows and continues. "I mean, the whole party girl aesthetic is a great mask, right? It's easy to hide the shakes when everyone expects you to have a drink in your hand twenty four-seven."

You had expected Heeseung to answer Jay, everyone always talks about how he drinks too much but Heeseung being the shit starter he is just had to pick her.

Leah's face pales immediately and her forced smile from earlier completely vanishes. She looks down at the half full shot glass in front of her and her fingers trembling slightly. Everyone is watching her, waiting for her to reach for the bottle and demand to know what question would make Heeseung make such a pointed comment.

But Leah doesn't move. "I don't want to know," she says, "I'm staying in the dark."

"Oh, come on, Leah," Jake groans from beside you, his voice dripping with agitation. He's already tipsy and his competitive streak getting soured by the heavy atmosphere. "Don't be boring. It's a game. Just drink and get it over with."

"Leave her alone, Jake," you snap, the words come out of your mouth before you can think. You feel the heat of Sunghoon's gaze on you, probably surprised by your sudden sharp tongue. You look over at Leah and offer a small nod. "She said she doesn't want to know. Let's move on."

Leah looks up at you with her eyes glassy with unshed tears, she shoots you a look of gratitude.

The bottle is slid toward Heeseung now, he has to whisper to Ume but you can't help but feel like the vibe in the room has shifted from a party game to a battlefield.

"Can’t I just pick who I want to whisper to instead?" He asks and Calista being as equally aggravating as he is agrees with him. "Sure you can!"

So instead, Heeseung gets up and hands over to Ume, crowding her space, his lips almost brushing her ear. Whatever he whispers is a long string of murmurs that lasts just a few seconds too many. You watch the playful smirk on Ume's face fade, her nose wrinkled in a display of revulsion. "God, Heeseung," Ume spits out, her voice sharp with a mix of shock and genuine disgust. "That's actually disgusting. You're such a weirdo."

Jay shifts forward, clearly intrigued by the sudden spike in hostility, while Sunghoon's jaw remains tight. Ume looks around the circle, her eyes landing right back on the man who whispered to her.

"It's him," she announces, pointing a finger directly at Heeseung. "The answer is Heeseung."

Heeseung lets out a mocking laugh that makes your skin prickle, he tilts his head to the side as he stares Ume down with a terrifyingly calm intensity.

"Funny," Oh God. "Because you didn't seem to think it was disgusting three days ago. In fact, you didn't seem to need any help at all when you were begging me to fuck you in my car."

Ume's face goes from flushed to a sickly white very quickly, she opens her mouth to retort but no sound comes out.

Heeseung on the other hand, just smirks while the question remains unrevealed, it's now a toxic secret sitting between them that has everyone else exchanging uneasy glances.

Someone should really call it now, call it a night but instead someone just murmurs that it's Ume's turn and now you're hyper aware she's about to ask Sunghoon—who's been a ticking time bomb since Calista brought up your lore—a question.

Ume, looking for any way to deflect the humiliation Heeseung just heaped on her, leans into Sunghoon. You can see the tremor in her hand as she tucks her hair back, her eyes narrowed with a vengeful glint.

She whispers the question to Sunghoon and for the first time tonight, you see a flicker of a smile cross his face. He doesn't hesitate his answer, "Heeseung," Sunghoon says and of course Heeseung wants to know, so he reaches for the bottle and takes an aggressive swig from it. "Reveal it," he commands, "What's the question?"

"The question," Sunghoon says, leaning forward so he's eye to eye with Heeseung, "was who here is definitely not as rich as they pretend to be?"

You nearly snort, that's not just a jab or a joke, it's a strike at the core of Heeseung's carefully curated image.

"Rich coming from you, Sunghoon," Heeseung sneers, his gaze flickering toward you before snapping back to his former friend. "At least I'm not the one who's so pathetic he took back a girl who already went through half the guys in this room. You're sitting there acting all protective of her, but we all know you're just the guy who cleans up the mess everyone else left behind."

The insult is so raw, it’s so unearned and cruel, so Heeseung. You hate how quick with it he is but you're quick too. Quick to connect the back of your hand with his face, the sound of your hand connecting with his cheek is like a gunshot in the small living room.

His head snaps sharply to the side and your hand starts to sting with the force of the blow as tears of pure rage blur your vision. Heeseung stays frozen for a long beat before his hand slowly comes up to touch his reddening face.

"Don't you ever," you choke out, your voice trembling with a fury you didn't know you possessed, "speak about me or Sunghoon like that again."

You don't even realize you've started heading for the door until you hear a pair of frantic footsteps following behind you. The stinging in your palm is nothing compared to the acid burning in your throat. You burst out into the cool night air, you're crying so hard you can barely see.

"Wait! Just—stop for a second!" Sunghoon's voice echoes behind you, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist to pull you into a quiet corner of the stairwell.

"Get away from me," you sob, trying to yank your arm back, the adrenaline from the slap finally crashing into a wave of pure humiliation. "He's trying to make me look like a whore, Hoon. In front of everyone. He's sitting there acting like I'm some...some conquest for the whole group."

Sunghoon doesn't let go, his face is red too and his eyes are filled with a mix of hurt and protective fury. "He's an asshole who's lashing out because he got called out for being broke. Don't listen to him."

"But he's making it sound like—" You choke on a breath, your voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Jay was one time. I was drunk, baby. You know that, I told you I didn't even know where I was. It wasn't half the guys, it was one mistake that almost killed me to tell you."

You look up at him with your tear stained face, you’re searching his eyes for any sign of the judgment Heeseung just spewed. "You believe me, right? Hoon, you know me. Or do you secretly think I'm just a whore, too?"

His face softens a little, right as he moves his hands to cup your face and wipe your tears, "I believe you," he says, finally letting your heart stop its frantic racing. "I know who you are. I didn't take you back because I'm pathetic. I took you back because I'd rather have a complicated life with you than a perfect one without you." "Let him talk. He has nothing and I have you."

The moment you and Sunghoon step back into the room, you realize the game didn’t even stop. You sit in Sunghoon’s lap instead of next to Heeseung again. Jay is whispering into Calista's ear now and whatever he says makes her eyes light up with glee that she literally cackles, a sound that grates against your raw nerves.

"Sunghoon. For sure," she says, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

"I don't want to know. Move on." He says, tightening his hand on your hip.

"Are you sureeeee, Hoonie?" Calista taunts, leaning forward so her cleavage is on display. "It's a really juicy one. Don't you want to know what Jay thinks about your...habits?"

"He said move on, Calista," you say, your irritation showing on your face clear as day.

She rolls her eyes but since it’s her turn now, she leans over to Heeseung. You can’t help but think of how the two of them have always shared a certain level of toxicity and as she whispers to him, the damn near evil smile that spreads on his face makes you want to throw up, even though the read mark from your slap still so visible on his cheek like a badge of dishonor.

Heeseung looks around the circle, first at Leah then at you. "Leah and Y/n," he answers.

"Wait, what the fuck?" Jake interjects, his brow furrowing. "The rules are one person, Hee. Don't be a dick and break the flow."

Heeseung doesn't even look at Jake, he looks like he's out for blood now. "Oh fuck the rules. I'll just tell you the question," Heeseung announces. "So Calista here, asked me who here would I have a threesome with?"

Fucking disgusting.

"I picked Leah because word on campus is she gives the best head when she's blacked out drunk. So efficiency, right?"

He turns his gaze to you, he’s so hellbent on destroying the little peace Sunghoon just gave you.

"And I picked Y/n," he continues, ignoring the way Sunghoon is literally vibrating with rage beside you, "because Jay told me that he's never seen an ass bounce on cock quite like hers. I figured I should see what the hype is about."

The room explodes and Sunghoon is up from under you, pushing you off him before Heeseung can even finish his sentence, his fist flies towards Heeseung's jaw as Jake tries to scramble out of the way.

The living room erupts into a violent blur of motion and anger. Jay and Jake lunged forward, trying to haul Sunghoon off Heeseung but he is a whirlwind of unbridled rage and he’s too strong for both of them, his heels skidding on the hardwood as he punches Heeseung one two three times square in the face.

"Get off me!" Sunghoon roars, his voice cracking with the intensity of his fury.

"Hoon please! You’ll kill him!" Leah cries and in the midst of the chaos, Calista decides now is the perfect time to give her unsolicited opinion. Just as Jake and Jay finally manage to drag Sunghoon off the now bloodied Heeseung, she stands up and smooths her skirt with a sickeningly calm demeanor that irritates you so quickly. "I don't even know why you're getting so defensive, Sunghoon," she starts, "It's not like he lied. You did cheat on him with Jay. It's public knowledge at this point. Why act like she's some untouchable virgin when everyone already knows how passed around your girlfriend is?"

Take it to hell then.

"Public knowledge, huh?" you repeat, "Is that what we're calling it now, Calista?"

You take another step, deliberately trying to invade her personal space until she's forced to lean back against the sofa. "Since we're so happily sharing public knowledge," you continue, "is it public knowledge that you spent seven months last year practically begging Sunghoon to take your virginity? That you sent him dozens of nudes he never asked for, crying and pleading with him to be the one because you were so obsessed with his fucking reputation?"

She tries to interrupt you, maybe to get you to shut up but you don't give her the air. "And when he wouldn't even look at you—when he told you he wasn't interested in a girl who tried that hard—is it public knowledge that you finally settled for Heeseung just so you could feel like you were part of the group?"

It’s almost laughable how the whole room is suddenly silent. Heeseung, who was wiping blood from his lip, freezes before his eyes snapping to Calista with a look of pure realization.

Jay and Jake slowly loosen their grip on Sunghoon, their eyes wide as they look between you and the trembling girl in front of you. She really looks like she’s about to faint. "You...you don't know what you're talking about," she stammers.

"I have the screenshots, Calista," you announce. "Sunghoon showed me everything the day we got back together. So if I were you, I'd stop talking about public knowledge before I make sure everyone on this campus knows exactly how little dignity you actually have."

Despite the blood from his split lip, the black eye and bruises forming all over his face, Heeseung laughs, looking at Calista then at you with some kind of twisted admiration. "Damn," his voice scrapes against the silence. "That's harsh. Even for this room."

Leah, who has been sitting in a crumpled heap of tears and humiliation since Heeseung brought up her blackout reputation, finally snaps. The gratitude she felt when you defended her earlier has fermented into a courage. "Oh, fuck off, Heeseung," "You're really going to act like you're worth more than that? Settlement is the best word for you. Honestly, it's the best you can do seeing as you can't get anyone sober to actually touch you."

Jake and Jay look at each other, realizing the night has moved past a game and into a total social execution. You wince at Leah’s words cause you know Heeseung, he has no problems being dragged through the mud, as long as someone is being dragged with him and that’s exactly what he does.

"Ouch, Leah. You're hurting my feelings," he pouts, looking directly at Ume. "But you're wrong. I get plenty of sober pussy. Right, Ume?"

She shakes her head, almost like she’s begging him to stop but Heeseung is long past mercy.

"Ume fucks me. A lot, actually," he says with a voice so casual, you’d think he was discussing the news. "You'd be surprised how many pregnancy scares we've had just this semester. I think we're on what? Three now, Ume? Or did you forget to tell me about the one last week because you were too busy pretending we don't know each other in the halls?"

Ume lets out a choked sob, covering her mouth with her hands. The revelation is a nuclear bomb, Heeseung is burning every bridge in the room just to stay warm.

Sunghoon's grip on your waist tightens, you hadn’t even realized he was behind you. He looks down at you, his eyes silently communicating that this has gone too far. The game has completely turned into a search and destroy mission and of course Heeseung is leading the charge with a bloody lip and a terrifyingly calm smile. He ignores the sobbing Ume and the trembling Calista, turning his predatory focus toward the one person who has stayed unnervingly silent during the chaos. "Jongie," Heeseung coos, tilting his head. "You've been awfully quiet while everyone else's skeletons are falling out of the closet. Why is that? I know it's not because you're worried about our girl over there—we already established you've been there, done that."

"Shut the fuck up, Heeseung," Jake snaps, "You're clearly just high on the drama. Stop it."

But Calista, sensing a chance to shift the target off her own humiliation, lets out a hysterical laugh. She wipes the tears from her eyes that are already shining with a manic triumph.

"Oh, wait! I know this one!" she chirps, her voice trembling but eager. "It’ll all make sense now but Jay here didn't sleep with Y/n because he wanted her. He used her as a litmus test."

Sunghoon's grip on your waist becomes painfully tight as the room goes dead silent.

"He was trying to figure out if he was actually gay or not," Calista sneers, pointing a manicured finger between Jay and Jake. "Because Jay and Jake haven't just been best friends since freshman year. They've been fucking since the first week of classes. Jay just needed to see if a girl could still do it for him, and you were the easiest target because you were drunk and vulnerable."

This can’t be happening. Why? Why did you agree to even come to Jay’s house tonight?

The two boys don’t even move, it’s like they can’t. Sunghoon’s hands fall from your waist as he looks at Jay—the man he thought was his best friend, the man who had supposedly betrayed him out of a moment of drunken weakness, not a cold blooded experiment.

"Is that true?" Sunghoon asks, his voice dangerously low. "You used my girlfriend to see if you could still get your dick hard for a woman?" But Jay can’t answer, he can’t even look Sunghoon in the eye.

Before you realize you’ve moved, you’re right in Calista’s face again, moving without thinking. Without a word, you bring your hand up and deliberately swipe your index finger right under her nostril. When you pull your hand back, you look at the faint white residue on your finger before looking back at her with pity.

"Aw, Cali,"

"I knew you did coke but I didn't know it was this bad. Is that why your heart is racing so fast? Or is it just the sniffles?"

You want to dismantle her credibility, her sanity. How dare she? You don’t even care about what Jay allegedly did. How dare she attempt to out two people who clearly weren’t ready for that.

"Are you just making up shit now because you're scared?" you ask, tilting your head. "You’re scared that everyone will finally find out you're nothing but a coke whore who trades blowjobs for a gram?"

A strangled sound escapes her throat, she looks around the room, searching for an ally but everyone—even Heeseung—is looking at her with a new level of disgust.

"News fucking flash, Calista," "Everyone knows. We've always known. We just didn't care enough about you to say it out loud until you decided to make yourself everyone's damn problem."

You turn your back on her, grab Leah’s hand and heading for the door, you’re sure Sunghoon is right behind you. "We're done," you say. "We don’t need these toxic people."

──.୨ৎ

The laundry room basement of Jay’s house is a stark contrast to the polished, expensive chaos neither Sunghoon nor Leah are expecting to unfold in about an hour. Down here, the smell of the laundry detergent is strong, paired with the rhythmic thrum of the m washing machine, it’s enough to make anyone overstimulated in this situation.

Sunghoon has Leah propped up against the vibrating metal of the washer, her legs wrapped around his waist, as he drives his cock harder and harder into her.

The machine’s cycle is loud but it’s still not loud enough to drown out the wet sounds of their bodies meeting or Leah’s loud moans.

"Hoon...Sunghoon," Leah whimpers, her fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders as he thrusts into her with a mechanical intensity.

"Quiet," he shushes, pressing his palm over her mouth for a second, his eyes dark and devoid of the softness he usually keeps reserved for you. "The others are going to be here any minute. You want them to hear you?"

Leah shakes her head no, her eyes glassy with a mix of pleasure and a desperate need for him to look at her with something other than detachment, for him to look at her the way he looks at you. She pulls his head down, pressing her lips against his before whimpering when he brushes her sweet spot.

"Oh fuck! I love you!" she moans, the words suddenly slipping out like a confession she can’t hold back. "I love you so much, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate, kissing her to shut her up, his tongue invading her mouth with a possessive hunger that felt more like a conquest than an embrace. "I love you too," he mutters against her skin, the words sound practiced, they’re even mean in their delivery—a hollow comfort he’s offering only to keep her compliant.

He shifts his grip, hooking his large hands under her thighs to pull her closer, "Are you close?" he demands, his breath hot and erratic against her neck. "Fuck—Your pussy’s so good, babe. You’re gonna make me cum right now."

Leah lets out a frustrated breath, lolling her head back against the cold laundry shelf. "No...no, I'm not. It’s okay, baby." She wraps her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in as deep as he could go. "You can cum, Hoonie. Just...cum inside me. Please."

Sunghoon lets out a grunt of appreciation, she doesn’t need to tell him twice before he buries his face in the crook of her neck, his thrusts become faster and more desperate until he finally stiffens, his entire body shudders as he fills her. "Mm yes, Sunghoon. Gimme your cum."

He stays there inside her for a long moment, before pulling back to start fixing his clothes with a terrifyingly quick efficiency.

"Clean yourself up," he says, not looking at her as he heads for the stairs. "We need to be upstairs before the rest of them get here."

nene’s note ── is it just me or is heeseung HILARIOUS in this? lmao (cause i’m not on the receiving end) also poor ume (right?👀) did you expect the twist? i loveeee feedback! please enjoy!💋

taglist i ── @fancypeacepersona @usuallyunlikelyfox @starry-eyed-bimbo @strayy-kidz @mheretoreadff @bloomiize @xoenhalover @mamuljji @gabrielinhaa @ieatwon @rialikesbts @lunacrtk @dulcetnostalgia @lovel1z @dearestdreamies @kristynaaah @c1eod1n3 @kiikiisblog @plumdove @pqrkjyx @tojiworshipper @loverseon @yazmike @ravenslocked @enhxlvr @mangoescrazy @hees-h0e @stayalittlelonger143

© nephynes 2025

You watch them as they pass. Jay is mid-rant about something while Sunghoon is beside him, pretending to listen. Sunoo is laughing at something on his phone, his head thrown back, and Jungwon is trying to grab the phone from him. Ni-ki is walking backward in front of them all, saying something that makes Jay throw his hands up even more, and something that makes Sunghoon look away from the crowd and pay attention.

And then there's Jake and Heeseung. Jake is the one people notice first. Something about him draws the eye without demanding it. He's got his hands in his jacket pockets, his head tilted as he listens to whatever Ni-ki is saying. He's the kind of person who makes you feel seen without trying. People have been talking about Jake since freshman year, about how he helped that transfer student find her way to the dining hall during the first week, about how he stayed up all night helping Sunghoon study for a final, about how he's the reason their group became a group in the first place.

People have been talking about Heeseung for just as long. They talk about the way he plays basketball, the way he's been scouted since his first season. Where Jake makes you feel safe, Heeseung makes you feel like you're standing at the edge of something dangerous. He walks with his eyes scanning the crowd like he's looking for something or someone and when his gaze passes over you, it lingers for just a second longer than it should. He's been doing that for four years.

You've known them both for four years. You've watched them become the people everyone talks about. You've heard the whispers of the girls who want Jake's attention, the ones who want Heeseung's, the ones who want both and the girls who've tried and fail to get there attention. And you've been in the middle of it. Not by choice, maybe, though you've never exactly stepped out of it either. You've let them orbit you, let them watch you, let them want you. You've told yourself it doesn't mean anything, that you're not doing anything wrong by letting them both stay close. And that you're not responsible for what they feel, that you're not leading anyone on, that you're just existing in the space between two people who have been there for four years. The problem is you're not sure you believe yourself anymore.

The library is quiet when you get there, the way you like it. You find your usual table near the window, spread out your books, and try to focus on the reading you've been avoiding for three days. You make it ten minutes before a coffee cup appears in your peripheral vision. You look up. Heeseung slides into the chair across from you. Oat milk vanilla latte. Exactly how you like it.

"I didn't ask for coffee."

"You didn't have to." He leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, and you try not to notice the way his shirt pulls across his chest. "You always come here on Tuesdays. You always get tired around ten. You always need a second cup."

You wrap your hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into your palms. "That's creepy."

"It's observant. There's a difference."

"There really isn't." He grins. It's the same grin he's been giving you for four years. The one that says he's always a step ahead, that he's been watching you long enough to know exactly how to get under your skin. A puzzle you can't quite solve.

"Are you going tonight?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Why? Thought you hate Sunghoon's parties."

"I don't hate them. I tolerate them." He leans forward, elbows on the table, and his voice drops. "I'm going because you'll be there."

You hold his gaze. Four years ago, that kind of line would have made your stomach flip. Now, you've learned to meet him where he is. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true."

You try to hold back a smile. He catches it of course and his grin softens into something that looks almost genuine.

"See you tonight," he says, standing.

He's halfway to the door when you call after him. "Heeseung."

He turns.

"The coffee's cold."

He laughs, a real laugh the kind you don't hear often and pushes through the exit. Leaving you alone with your lukewarm latte and the strange, familiar ache in your chest.

You sit there for another twenty minutes, staring at the same page. When you finally pack up your books and head for the exit, not paying attention. You push through the doors, your eyes on your phone, your mind still tangled up in thoughts you don't want to name, and you walk directly into someone's chest.

"Watch-"

You look up. Jake.

He steadies you with a hand on your arm, his grip gentle, his face shifting from surprise to something warmer when he realizes it's you. "Sorry," he says, his hand still on your arm. "I wasn't looking."

"I wasn't either."

He doesn't let go right away. His thumb brushes your sleeve, a small, absent movement, like he's not even thinking about it. His eyes are warm in the afternoon light, the kind of warm that makes you forget you were in a hurry to leave.

"You okay?" he asks. "You look like you're somewhere else."

You pull back, tuck your hair behind your ear. "Just tired. Long week."

He nods slowly. He doesn't push. That's one of the things you've always loved about Jake.

"Sunghoon's party," he says. "You going?"

You laugh, a little breathless. "You're the third person to ask me that."

"Third?"

"Heeseung asked. Yunjin asked. Now you."

His expression doesn't change at the mention of Heeseung. You're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. "So what did you tell them?"

"I told them I'd think about it, but I'll most likely be there."

He smiles and steps aside to let you pass, but as you move by him, his hand brushes yours. Barely anything. But you feel it.

"I hope you come," he says, and there's something in his voice that makes you stop.

You turn to look at him. "Why?"

He holds your gaze. "Because I always have a better time when you're there."

You don't know what to say to that or why your body wants to step closer. Instead, you smile. "I'll think about it," you say again, and this time, it sounds like a promise.

He's still watching you when you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your back, warm and steady, and you let yourself wonder, for just a moment, what it would be like to stop pretending.

You're halfway across the quad when your phone buzzes. You pull it out of your pocket, expecting Yunjin or your mom or one of the dozen group chats you've muted and forgotten about. It's Heeseung. Don't think about it too hard. Just show up.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You type out a response, delete it, type another, delete that too. Finally, you settle on: I'll be there.

His response comes almost immediately. Good.

You shove your phone back in your pocket and keep walking, your heart pounding, your mind racing, the weight of the weekend pressing down on you like something you're not ready to carry.

Sunghoon's party is in full swing by the time you arrive. The apartment is packed, bodies pressed together in the kitchen and the living room and the hallway. Fairy lights are strung across the ceiling, casting everything in warm gold, and someone has set up a makeshift dance floor. You walk in like you own the place. Because you do. You've been coming here for four years. You know where Sunghoon keeps the good alcohol, which corner of the couch is most comfortable. You know these people. You know this room. You know exactly what you're doing here.

Yunjin finds you immediately, her hand closing around your wrist, pulling you toward the kitchen. "You're late."

"I'm never late."

"You're always late. Drink this." She shoves a cup into your hand. "Sunoo made his special punch. It's terrible but it's strong."

You take a sip. It is terrible. But it's also strong, and you're here, and the music is loud enough to drown out the voice in your head that's been asking too many questions lately. You let Yunjin pull you through the crowd, introducing you to people you've already met, making you laugh at jokes you've already heard. She's in her element tonight, bright and loud and impossible to ignore, and you're happy to let her take the lead. But your eyes are moving.

Jake is across the room, leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand. He's talking to Niki, but his eyes find you almost immediately, like he knew exactly where you'd be. He smiles, small and easy, and you smile back before looking away. Heeseung is on the other side of the room, near the windows. He's not talking to anyone. He's just watching, the way he always watches, his hands in his jacket pockets, his face unreadable. When your eyes meet, he doesn't smile. He just tilts his head, a small gesture, a question you don't know how to answer. You look away first.

An hour later, you're on the dance floor. The music has shifted to something slower, heavier, the kind of beat that settles into your bones and makes you want to move. You're dancing with Yunjin at first, then with Sakura, then with no one in particular, just letting the music move through you.

You feel someone behind you before you see them. A hand on your waist, light, questioning. You turn. Jake is there, close enough that you can see the slight flush on his cheeks from the heat of the room.

"Dance with me," he says. It's not a question.

You raise an eyebrow. "That sounded like an order."

He grins. "Is it working?"

You let him pull you closer, his hands settling on your waist, yours finding his shoulders. He's warm, steady, the way he's always been. His hands are careful, respectful, the hands of someone who has been waiting for a long time and isn't going to rush now that he's here.

"You're a good dancer," you say.

"I'm a terrible dancer. You're just easy to move with."

You laugh, and his hands tighten on your waist, just enough for you to feel it. Across the room, you see Heeseung watching. His arms are crossed, his face unreadable, but there's something in his posture that tells you he's not as casual as he's pretending to be.

You smile at Jake. You lean in close, your lips brushing his ear. "He's watching."

Jake doesn't turn. He doesn't need to. "I know."

"Does that bother you?"

His hands slide down your waist, just slightly, just enough to pull you closer. "Not tonight."

You dance for another song, maybe two. Jake's hands stay on your waist, his eyes stay on your face, and for a moment, you let yourself exist in this space, in the warmth of him, in the steadiness of his hands. When the song ends, you pull back. He doesn't let go immediately.

"I'm getting a drink," you say.

He releases you slowly, his fingers trailing down your arm, your wrist, your hand. "I'll find you."

You know he will.

You're at the makeshift bar in the kitchen when Heeseung appears beside you. He doesn't say anything at first. He just stands there, close enough that his arm brushes yours, far enough that you could pretend you don't notice.

"Jake looked happy," he says.

"He usually does."

"Not like that." Heeseung turns to look at you. His face is close, closer than you expected, his eyes dark in the low light. "He only looks like that when you're around."

You hold his gaze. "And you?"

He doesn't answer. He reaches past you, his arm brushing your waist, and grabs a bottle from the counter. When he pulls back, he's close enough that you can smell whatever cologne he's wearing.

"What do you want, Heeseung?"

He looks at you for a long moment. Then he smiles, and it's not his usual smirk. It's something else, something that makes your stomach tighten.

"You," he says. "But I'm not the one you're dancing with tonight."

You could let it go. You could walk away, find Yunjin, pretend this conversation didn't happen. But you've been running for four years, and you're tired of running. You step closer. Close enough that your chest almost touches his. Close enough that you have to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

"Then stop watching," you say, "and do something about it."

His breath catches. You see it the moment his control slips. His hand comes up, his fingers brushing your waist, your hip, pulling you toward him.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he says, his voice low.

"Am I winning?"

He laughs, low and rough, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. His face is close, his lips inches from yours, his hand tight on your waist. But he doesn't kiss you. He pulls back, just enough to breathe.

"You're going to be the death of me," he says.

He disappears into the crowd before you can respond.

You later find Yunjin on the couch, her legs draped over Jay's lap, a glass of wine in her hand. She looks at you with the particular expression she gets when she knows something you don't want her to know.

"What?" you say.

"Nothing." She takes a sip of wine. "Just watching you work."

"I'm not working."

"Oh babes you're working alright." She grins. "Jake danced with you for twenty minutes. Heeseung looked like he wanted to eat you alive. And you're standing here like you didn't do anything."

You settle onto the couch beside her. "I didn't do anything."

"That's what you think."

She laughs, and you laugh, and the night moves on.

Later, much later, you find yourself on the back patio. The air is cool, a welcome relief after the heat of the house. The city is quiet, the stars faint overhead, and for a moment, you're alone. But you're not alone for long.

Jake appears beside you, his hands in his pockets, his face half lit by the light from the house. He doesn't say anything at first. He just stands beside you, close enough to touch, far enough to let you breathe.

"You had fun tonight," he says.

"I always have fun."

"You had more fun than usual." He turns to look at you. "Heeseung looked like he wanted to kill me when I was dancing with you."

You laugh. "Heeseung always looks like that."

"Not like that." He steps closer. "Not when it's you."

You look at him. At the person who waited, who showed up, who never asked for anything except the chance to be near you.

"You're staring," you say.

"You're worth staring at."

He leans in. His forehead touches yours. His breath is warm on your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

You think about the years of not choosing, of running back and forth, of being too scared to want what you wanted. "Yes," you say.

He kisses you. It's soft, gentle, the way he's always been. His hands cup your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones, and he kisses you like you're something precious, something worth waiting for. You kiss him back. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, his hair. You pull him closer, and the kiss deepens, and for a moment, you forget about everything else.

He pulls back first, his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven.

"That was-" he starts.

"Don't ruin the mood Jake."

He laughs, low and warm. "I was going to say perfect."

You smile. "Yeah? Need you so bad Jake."

Your words seemed to be the final straw for Jake, as he's tugging you from the porch to his car and before you know it in his apartment.

Jake's apartment is quiet. The windows are open, letting in the cool spring air, the sound of the city muffled to a distant hum. His room is clean in a nice comforting way. He's standing in the middle of the room, watching you. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched, his hair falling across his forehead. He looks nervous. He looks like he's been waiting for this moment for years and now that it's here, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"You're staring again," you say.

"You're worth staring at yet again."

You move toward him slowly, watching his face, watching the way his eyes track your movements, the way his chest rises and falls a little faster with each step you take. You stop when you're close enough to touch, close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to see the slight twitch in his hands.

"What do you want tonight?" you ask.

His throat works. His hands come out of his pockets, hovering at his sides like he's not sure where to put them. "I want to try something."

"What kind of something?"

His jaw sets. He straightens his shoulders, lifts his chin. There's something determined in his expression, something that looks like he's been practicing for this. "I want to be in control and have you in ways I've always dreamed," he says.

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

He steps closer. His hand finds your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip, and he pulls you toward him. His other hand comes up to your face, tilting your chin, making you look at him. "Yeah," he says, and his voice is lower than usual, rougher. "I want to take care of you. I want to make you feel good. I want to be the one who decides how fast this goes."

You let him hold you. You let him tilt your chin, let him press his body against yours, let him try to fill the space the way he thinks he's supposed to. He's trying so hard. You can see it in the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way he's holding himself like he's playing a role he doesn't quite know.

He leans in to kiss you. It's harder than usual, more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours, his hand tight on your hip. He's trying to set the pace, trying to be the one who leads, trying to be rough in a way that doesn't come naturally to him. You kiss him back. You let him have this. For now.

He walks you backward toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours, his hands everywhere from your waist, your back, your thighs. He's trying to be commanding, trying to push, trying to be the one who decides. But there's a hesitation in his touch, a carefulness that betrays him. He pulls at your shirt like he's not sure how hard to pull. His fingers tremble against your skin. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps that sound more desperate than dominant.

When your back hits the bedroom door, he presses into you, his body hard against yours, his mouth on your neck. "I've been thinking about this all night," he says against your skin. "About taking my time with you. About making you beg for it."

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. "Is that so?"

He pulls back to look at you. His eyes are dark, lips a plump cherry red his chest heaving, his hands pressed against the door on either side of your head. He's trying so hard to look commanding, trying to look like he knows what he's doing, trying to be someone he's not.

You reach up, your fingers tracing his jaw. He leans into your touch without thinking, his eyes fluttering closed, his whole body softening under your hand. "Jake," you say softly. He opens his eyes. "You're not very good at this."

He blinks. "What?"

You push against his chest. He stumbles back, surprised, and you step forward, reversing your positions. His back hits the door. Your hands press against his chest, holding him there. "You're trying to be someone you're not," you say. "You're trying to be rough. Trying to be in control. Trying to be the one who decides."

His throat works. His hands hang at his sides. "I want to be what you need."

You slide your hands up his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Your fingers thread into his hair, tilting his head back the way he did to you. "What I need," you say, your mouth close to his ear, "is you. Not some version of you that you think I want. Just you."

His breath catches. His hands find your waist, but they're not pushing, not pulling. They're holding on.

"You want to be in control tonight?" you ask. He nods. His eyes are wide, his lips parted. "You're not going to get it."

You kiss him. It's soft at first, teasing, your tongue tracing his lower lip, your fingers tightening in his hair. He makes a sound against your mouth something between a gasp and a whimper and his hands tighten on your waist, but he doesn't push. He doesn't pull. He just holds on.

You pull back. Look at him. "You want to be good for me?"

His eyes are glassy, his chest heaving. "Yes."

"Then do what I say."

He nods. His hands fall to his sides.

You step back. Look at him. His shirt is rumpled, his hair a mess, his lips swollen from kissing. He's standing against the door like he's waiting for something, like he'd do anything you asked.

"Take off your shirt."

He reaches for the hem, pulls it over his head. His skin is warm in the low light, his chest bare, his muscles tensing and relaxing under your gaze. He drops the shirt on the floor, his hands falling back to his sides.

"Good," you say. "Now the pants."

He fumbles with the button, his fingers clumsy, his eyes never leaving your face. The pants fall to the floor. He steps out of them, kicks them aside, stands in front of you in nothing but his boxers. His chest is still heaving, his hands shaking, his whole body strung tight.

You circle him slowly. His shoulders are tense, his breathing shallow, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. You run your fingers down his back, feel the muscles jump beneath your touch, hear the sharp intake of his breath. "You've been waiting for this," you say. "Haven't you?"

His voice is hoarse. "Four years."

You stop behind him, press your chest against his back, your mouth close to his ear. "Then stop trying to be in control. Let me take care of you."

He shudders. His head falls forward, his hands braced against the door.

You reach around, your fingers finding the waistband of his boxers. You pull them down slowly, feeling his breath catch, feeling his body tremble beneath your hands. The boxers fall to the floor. He steps out of them, kicks them aside, and then he's bare, his skin warm, his body hard, his heart pounding so hard you can see it in his neck.

You turn him around. He's fully hard tip already leaking, his eyes dark and wide. He looks at you like you're the only thing in the world.

You push him toward the bed. He goes willingly, his legs unsteady, his eyes never leaving your face. When his knees hit the edge, he falls back onto the mattress, his arms bracing himself.

You climb onto the bed, kneel between his legs. His thighs are warm beneath your hands, his muscles tense, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You run your fingers up the inside of his thighs, feel him shiver, hear the small sound that escapes his throat.

"Lay back," you say. He lays back. His hands fist in the sheets. His chest rises and falls, his whole body waiting.

You wrap your hand around him. He's hot, heavy, pulsing beneath your fingers. His hips jerk up, a desperate, involuntary movement, and he makes a sound that's a whimper.

You stroke him slowly, watching his face. His eyes are closed, his lips parted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He's already falling apart, already losing himself, and you've barely touched him.

"Look at me pretty boy," you say. He opens his eyes. They're dark, glazed, barely focused.

You lean down, your tongue tracing the head of him. He gasps, his hands flying to your hair, but he doesn't pull. He doesn't push. He holds on like you're the only thing keeping him grounded.

You take him into your mouth. The sound he makes is desperate, broken, your name caught in his throat. His hips jerk up again, but he stops himself, his hands trembling in your hair, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding still. You move slowly, your tongue circling, your lips tight, your hand working what your mouth can't reach. You feel him pulse on your tongue, hear his breath turn to ragged gasps, feel his thighs trembling beneath your hands.

"I'm not going to-" His voice breaks. "I'm going to-"

You pull back. Just before he falls over the edge.

He whimpers. His hips buck up, searching for your mouth, your hand, anything. "Please-"

You stroke him slowly, watching his face. His head is thrown back, his jaw slack, his hands fisted in the sheets. "Please," he says again. "Please, I need-"

"You need what?"

"I need to cum. Please. I've been waiting-I've been-" His voice cracks. His hips jerk up, desperate, searching.

You lean down, take him in your mouth again. His whole body arches off the bed, a broken sound tearing from his throat. You work him fast now, your hand moving with your mouth, feeling him swell, feeling his thighs shake, feeling his control slip away.

"I'm-" His voice is barely a word. "I'm-"

You pull back again.

He cries out. His hands fly to his face, covering his eyes, his whole body trembling. "Please- I- mmm stop being so mean," he whispers. "Please, I can't-I need-"

You climb up his body, straddle his hips. His hands fall away from his face, his eyes finding yours. They're wet. His cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, his whole body open and waiting.

"You want to cum?" you ask. He nods. "Then beg."

His hands grip your thighs. His voice is hoarse, broken. "Please. Please, I'll do anything. I've been waiting for four years. I've been wanting you for four years. Please let me- please let me feel you-"

You reach between your legs, position him at your entrance. His hips buck up, desperate, but you hold him down. "Say my name."

"Y/N." His voice cracks. "Y/N, please-"

You sink down onto him.

He cries out. His back arches, his hands grip your thighs, his head falls back against the pillows. You move slowly at first, watching his face, watching the way his eyes roll back, his jaw slack, the rise and fall of his chest. "You feel so good," he gasps. "So good-"

You move faster. His hands slide up your thighs, your hips, your waist. He's not trying to control. He's just holding on, his fingers pressing into your skin, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I'm close," he says. "I'm so close-"

You slow down. He groans, his head thrashing against the pillows. "Not yet," you say. "Please," he begs. You start moving again, fast, hard, watching his face, watching the way his control slips, the way his body strains beneath you.

"I'm going to-" His voice is desperate. "I can't-"

You slow down again.

He sobs. His hands grip your thighs, his nails digging in, his whole body shaking. "Please," he begs. "Please, I need to cum. I need-"

You lean down, your mouth close to his ear. "Flip us over."

He moves before you finish the sentence. His hands find your waist, rolling you onto your back, settling between your legs. His breaths coming out unbalanced, his face flushed, his eyes wild. He looks down at you. His hands are trembling. His whole body is trembling. "Can I?" he asks, his voice rough. "Can I-"

You nod.

He pushes into you fast moving even faster. Deeper than before. His forehead is pressed against yours, his breath hot on your lips, his hands tangled in your hair. Each thrust deliberate, each movement pulling sounds from your throat you didn't know you could make.

"You feel that?" His voice is low, rough. "You feel what you do to me?"

You nod. You can't speak.

He moves even faster. His rhythm is sloppy, uncontrolled, the kind of rhythm that comes from someone who's found his place and found his pace. "I've got you princess," he says. "I've got you."

His hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding you, working you in time with his thrusts. The pressure builds, spiraling, tightening, until you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except feel.

"I want to feel you cum," he says. "I want to feel you fall apart on me."

You shatter. Your body clenches around him, your nails dig into his back, his name tears from your throat. He follows a moment later, his face buried in your neck, his body shuddering against yours, his voice breaking on your name.

He collapses beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. His chest is heaving, his skin slick with sweat, his heart pounding so hard you can feel it through his ribs. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The room is quiet, the city distant, the world reduced to the space between you.

He lifts his head, looks at you. His face is soft, open, the way it only is when it's just the two of you. "You did that on purpose," he says.

You smile. "Did what?"

"Edged me. Made me beg." His fingers trace patterns on your skin. "You liked that."

"You liked it too."

He laughs, low and warm. "I loved it." He pulls you closer, his arm tight around your waist, his face buried in your hair. You close your eyes. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, his breath warm on your skin, his arms holding you like you're something precious. He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

You smile against his chest. "Good."

The library is quiet in that particular way it gets on Thursday afternoons. You're at your usual table near the window, your books spread out around you. You've been staring at the same page for thirty minutes, your mind elsewhere, replaying the party. Jake's hands on your waist. Heeseung's voice in your ear.

You're still thinking about it when a coffee cup appears in your peripheral vision. You don't need to look up. You know that cup. You know that hand. You look up. He's sliding into the chair across from you, his jacket unzipped, his hair still damp from a shower. He looks tired, the shadows under his eyes darker than usual, but there's something in his face that makes your chest tighten.

You take a sip of the coffee. It's perfect. It's always perfect.

"Why are you here, Heeseung?" you ask. "It's three o'clock on a Thursday. You don't come to the library. You've never come to the library."

He shrugs, but there's something in his expression that shifts. "Maybe I wanted to see you."

"You see me every day."

"I see you across the quad. I see you in the dining hall. I see you dancing with Jake at parties." You notice the way his jaw tightens, just slightly at the mention of Jake. "That's not the same as seeing you."

You don't know what to say to that. You don't know what to do with the weight of his words, the way he's looking at you.

He leans forward, his elbows on the table, his voice dropping. "There's a game this weekend. Last one of the season. Scouts are coming."

You raise your eyebrows. "Scouts?"

"Professional teams. They've been watching me for a while." He shrugs, like it's not a big deal, like it's not the thing he's been working toward his whole life.

"Heeseung, that's huge."

"It's just a game."

"It's not just a game and you know it."

He's quiet for a moment. His eyes are fixed on something outside the window, something you can't see. When he looks back at you, his face is different. Softer. More open. "I want you there."

You stare at him. "What?"

"The game. I want you to come." He says it like it's simple, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like he hasn't been watching you for four years, like he hasn't been waiting, like he hasn't been standing on the edge of something he's not sure he's allowed to want.

"You want me to come to your game."

"I want you to be there." He leans back in his chair, his eyes don't leave your face. "I've been playing for four years. Every game, I look for you in the stands. Even when I know you're not there."

Your chest tightens. "Heeseung-"

"You don't have to say anything." His voice is quiet now, almost careful. "I'm not asking you for anything. I'm not asking you to choose. I'm just asking you to be there. For one game."

"I'll think about it," you say.

He nods slowly. "That's not a no."

"That's not a yes either."

He stands up, pushing his chair back, grabbing his coffee. He's halfway to the door when he turns back. "It's Saturday. Six o'clock. The gym." He pauses. "I hope to see you."

He's gone before you can respond. The door swings shut behind him, and you're left alone with a heart that won't stop pounding.

Saturday comes faster than you expect. The gym is packed when you arrive. The stands are overflowing, students crammed into every seat, people standing along the walls, the air thick with anticipation. There are faces you don't recognize in the front row men in suits with clipboards, scouts from teams you've only seen on TV. The energy is different from the other games. Heavier. Like everyone in this room knows they're about to witness something.

You find a seat near the middle this time. Not hiding. Not tucked away. You want him to see you.

Heeseung is on the court, warming up. He's focused in a way you've never seen, his movements sharp, precise, like he's running through every play in his head before the game even starts. He doesn't look at the stands. He doesn't look at the scouts. He just moves.

The game begins. It's brutal from the start. The other team is good, better than anyone expected. They double team Heeseung every time he touches the ball, throw everything they have at him. For the first half, it works. He's frustrated, you can see it in the set of his jaw, the way his hands clench at his sides when he comes off the court.

At halftime, the score is tied. Heeseung sits on the bench, his head in his hands. You watch him. You watch the coach crouch beside him, say something you can't hear. Heeseung nods. He looks up. He looks at you.

For a moment, everything else fades. The noise, the crowd, the pressure. He looks at you like you're the only thing keeping him grounded. You give him a small smile with a little nod. Just once. He nods back.

The second half is different. Heeseung comes out like a different player. His movements are faster, sharper, like something has unlocked inside him. He drives past defenders, sinks shots from impossible angles, directs his teammates with confidence. The crowd feels it too the shift, the electricity.

The score tightens. The clock winds down. Ninety seconds left. Heeseung's team is down by two. He takes the ball. He drives. Defenders close in on all sides, three of them, bodies pressing against him, hands reaching. He should pass. Everyone in the gym knows he should pass. But he doesn't. He jumps.

The ball arcs through the air. Time slows. The crowd holds its breath. The ball hits the backboard, spins on the rim once, twice- Drops through.

The gym explodes. He stands there for a moment, frozen, the noise washing over him. Then he looks up. He finds you. His face breaks into something you've never seen before pure, unguarded joy. He points at you, just a finger raised, a gesture that says I did this for you. His teammates mob him, lift him onto their shoulders. You stay in your seat, your heart pounding, they won. He won.

After the game, you wait for him outside the locker room. The hallway is empty, the crowd long gone, the noise of the celebration faded to a distant echo. You lean against the wall, your hands in your pockets, trying to calm your heart.

A player you recognize from the team walks out, his bag over his shoulder. He sees you, stops. "You looking for Heeseung?" You nod. He grins. "He's in there. Took the longest shower of his life. Said he needed to cool down." He nods toward the door. "Go ahead. He won't mind." He disappears down the hallway before you can respond.

The locker room door is heavy. You push it open slowly, the sound echoing off the walls. It's empty. The benches are covered with towels, the air thick with the smell of soap and sweat. You hear water running from somewhere in the back, the hiss of a shower, the low hum of someone humming under their breath. You follow the sound.

Heeseung is standing at the sinks, his back to you, a towel slung low on his hips. His hair is wet, dripping onto his shoulders, onto his back, onto the floor. His skin is still flushed from the shower, still warm, still damp. The muscles in his shoulders move as he reaches for something on the counter, a roll of tape, a bottle of something you don't recognize. Water drips down his spine, following the line of his back, disappearing into the towel at his waist.

You can't breathe. You can't move. You can't stop watching.

He turns. He sees you.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The water drips from his hair onto his chest, trails down his stomach, disappears. His chest is still heaving from the game, from the shower, from whatever he was thinking about before you walked in. His arms are bare, the muscles defined in a way you've only imagined, his skin warm and damp and close enough to touch.

"You came," he says. His voice is rough, lower than usual.

"I said I would."

He takes a step toward you. Water drips from his hair onto his shoulders. "You watched?"

"Every second."

"You saw the shot?"

You nod. "I saw it."

He takes another step. He's close enough now that you can smell the soap on his skin, something clean and sharp. Close enough that you can see the water still clinging to his collarbone, his chest, the hollow of his throat.

"I made that shot for you," he says. "Every point. Every play. I did it for you."

Your heart stops. "Heeseung-"

"You want to know why I asked you to come? Why I needed you here?" His hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek, leaving a trail of water on your skin. "Because I can't do anything without thinking about you. I can't play without looking for you in the stands. I can't breathe without wondering if you're thinking about me too."

His hand slides into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. His face is close, so close you can feel his breath on your lips, warm and uneven. "I've been waiting for four years," he says. "I've been watching you with him. Watching you not choose. Watching you pretend you don't feel this. And I can't do it anymore."

"Feel what?" Your voice is barely a whisper.

He responds by kissing you. It's not soft, not careful, not gentle. It's the kind of kiss that's been building for four years, the kind of kiss that doesn't have room for hesitation. His hands are in your hair, your waist, pulling you against him, and his skin is warm and wet and you can feel every inch of him pressed against you. You kiss him back. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, his neck, pulling him closer, and he makes a sound against your mouth that sends heat flooding through your body.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. His skin is hot beneath your hands, his heart pounding so hard you can feel it.

"You're still wet," you say.

He laughs, low and rough. "You're not complaining."

Your hands slide down his chest, following the trail of water, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers. His breath catches. His hands tighten on your waist. "If you keep doing that," he says, "I'm not going to be able to stop."

You look at him. His hair is dripping onto your face, his skin flushed, his eyes dark. He's shirtless, wet, close enough to touch, and you've never wanted anything more. "Then don't stop."

His hands slide down your body, finding the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. His mouth follows, hot against your collarbone, your shoulder, the space between your breasts. He kisses like he's been waiting his whole life for this, like he's memorizing every inch of you. Your back hits the lockers behind you, metal cold against your skin, and he presses into you, his body warm and solid and everywhere.

"Four years," he breathes against your neck. "Four fucking years I've wanted this. Wanted you."

You pull his face up, kiss him again, and he groans into your mouth, his hands sliding down your back, your hips, your thighs. He lifts you without effort, your legs wrapping around his waist, your back against the lockers, his body pressed against yours. "You have no idea," he says, "what you do to me."

"Then show me Hee."

He kisses you again, and you let yourself fall.

You look at him. His hair is drying, curling at the ends. His face is open, vulnerable. His lips linger on yours for a moment longer, like he's not ready to let go. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, his breathing uneven. The locker room is quiet around you, the celebration moved somewhere else. It's just the two of you, the lights humming overhead, the smell of soap and sweat still clinging to his skin.

"We should probably get out of here," he says, but he doesn't move. His arm is still around your waist, his fingers still tracing circles on your hip.

"Probably," you agree. You don't move either.

He looks at you for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression something that looks like decision. "Come with me," he says.

You raise an eyebrow. "Where?"

"My dorm. It's closer." He pauses, his thumb stilling on your hip. "Unless you want to go back to your place."

"Your dorm," you say.

He smiles. It's small, real, the smile he only lets you see. He stands up, pulls you with him, his hands finding yours. His palms are warm, his fingers interlacing with yours like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Let's go," he says.

The walk to his dorm is quiet. Heeseung's hand is in yours. His thumb traces patterns on your skin, absent, unconscious, like he's not even thinking about it. His jacket is draped over your shoulders, he put it there before you left the locker room, his hands lingering on your arms, his breath warm on your neck. "You're cold," he had said. "I'm fine." "You're shivering." He had wrapped the jacket around you, pulled it tight, his hands resting on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. The jacket smells like him. You've been breathing it in ever since.

Now you walk side by side, not talking, not needing to. The silence between you is comfortable, the kind of silence that comes before something you've been waiting for. You look at him. His face is half-lit, half-shadowed, the streetlight catching the angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips. His hair is almost dry now, falling across his forehead. He's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters. Then he leads you inside.

His dorm is small. The room is cluttered in that particular way boys' rooms are clothes draped over a chair, textbooks stacked on the desk, a basketball in the corner that you know he's had since freshman year. He closes the door behind you. The lock clicks. The sound echoes in the quiet room.

He moves toward you slowly, like he's giving you time to change your mind. His hands find your waist, his fingers settling on the fabric of his jacket, still wrapped around you. His face is close, close enough that you can see the sparkle in his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands. "You have no idea," he says, "how long I've wanted this."

You reach up, your fingers brushing his jaw. His skin is warm, slightly rough, and he leans into your touch like he's been waiting for it. "Then stop talking about it," you say.

He kisses you. It's different from the locker room. Slower. Deeper. His hands slide under his jacket, finding your waist, your hips, pulling you against him. Your back hits the door, and he presses into you, his body warm and solid, his mouth moving against yours like he's learning you, memorizing you. His hands push the jacket off your shoulders. It falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. His mouth is on your neck, your collarbone, your throat, and every kiss sends heat flooding through your body.

"We should move to the bed," he murmurs against your skin.

"Then move."

He laughs, picks you up, carries you across the room. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and he lays you down on his bed, the sheets cool against your back, his body warm above you. He pulls back just enough to look at you. His hair is falling across his forehead, his eyes dark. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says. "You have no idea."

You pull him down, kiss him, and let yourself fall.

"You think about me when you're with him?" His thumb traces your jaw, tilting your face up. "When he's inside you, are you thinking about me?" You shake your head. "I don't-" "Don't lie to me, thought I wasn't going to find out that a pretty girl like you is out messing with a boy who cant handle all this?"His voice is soft, almost gentle, but his hand tightens on your throat. Just enough. Just enough to make your head spin. "I can smell him on you. I can see it in your eyes. You've been thinking about me this whole time. Wondering what it would be like if I was the one making you fall apart."

Your knees go weak. He feels it, pulls you closer, his thigh pressing between your legs. "That's what you want, isn't it?" His mouth is at your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "You want me to take over. You want me to make you forget his name."

"He was just-"

He cuts you off with a kiss. Hard. Deep. His tongue slides against yours, and his hands are everywhere your hair, your waist, your thighs. He kisses like he's claiming you, like he's erasing every other touch you've ever felt. His teeth catch your lower lip, pulling, biting down just enough to make you moan into his mouth. When he pulls back, you're breathless. Your head spins. Your hands find his shoulders just to steady yourself, but he grabs your wrists, pins them above your head.

"You want to know what I thought about all night?" His thumb traces your lower lip, pulling it down, watching the way your breath hitches. "I thought about getting you alone. Thought about taking you apart. Thought about making you forget your own name. Thought about the sounds you'd make when I finally got my hands on you."

Your knees go weak. He notices. His mouth curves into something that's not quite a smile but something darker, hungrier. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want someone to take control. Someone to tell you what to do. Someone to make you stop thinking for once. Someone who knows exactly how to take you apart."

You swallow. Your throat is dry. Your wrists are still pinned above your head, his grip firm enough that you couldn't move even if you wanted to. "Yes Hee."

His hands drop to the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head in one motion, and the cool air hits your skin. His eyes move down your body, slow, deliberate, like he's cataloging every inch of you. His gaze lingers on your breasts, on the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. "Good," he says. "Because tonight, you don't get to think. You don't get to decide. You don't get to do anything unless I tell you to. Understand?"

You nod.

His hands move down your body, finding the waistband of your pants. He pulls them off slow, his eyes never leaving your face. Your underwear follows, and then you're bare beneath him, your chest heaving, your thighs pressed together, your body aching for his touch. He spreads your legs. His hand slides between them, his fingers finding you wet and ready.

"So wet for me," he says. "You've been thinking about this all night, haven't you?"

"Fuck yes I have."

"What were you thinking about? Tell me."

His finger slides inside you, slow, and you gasp. "Thinking about-about your hands. Your mouth. The way you-"

His finger curls, finds the spot that makes your hips buck. "The way I what?"

"The way you take control." Your voice is barely a whisper. "Mmmm the way you make me feel like nothing else matters."

He adds a second finger. His thumb finds your clit, circles it slow, and the sounds coming out of your mouth are desperate, broken, nothing you've ever heard yourself make before. "You take it so well," he says. "You're so good for me. So fucking perfect."

His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder, and the pressure building in your belly is too much, not enough, everything you've been waiting for. "Look at me," he says. "I want to see your face when you cum."

You open your eyes. He's watching you, his eyes dark, his mouth parted, his hand working between your legs. "That's it," he says. "Let go. Cum for me."

You shatter. Your body clenches around his fingers, your back arches off the bed, his name rips from your throat. He doesn't stop. He keeps moving, keeps pressing, keeps pushing you higher, until the waves of your orgasm are still rolling through you and he's still not done. "You can give me more," he says. "I know you can." You shake your head. "I can't-" "You can." His fingers curl inside you, his thumb presses harder. "You're going to cum for me again."

The pressure builds again, faster this time, the sensitivity making your whole body tremble. He doesn't let up. He pushes and pushes and pushes, and when you come again, it's with a scream, your body convulsing, liquid flooding his hand, soaking the sheets beneath you. "Good girl," he says.

He pulls his shirt over his head. His chest is bare, his skin flushed, his muscles tensing as he unbuckles his belt. His pants fall to the floor, and then he's above you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He kisses you again, slower this time, like he has all the time in the world. His hands find the clasp of your bra, undo it, let it fall. His mouth follows, down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. He takes his time. He doesn't rush. He wants you to feel every second of this.

His tongue circles your nipple, and your back arches. Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling. He bites down just enough to make you gasp and then his mouth is on the other breast, his hand replacing his mouth on the first, his thumb and finger rolling your nipple until you're squirming against him. He pulls back. "I didn't say you could touch." Your hands drop. Your chest heaves. He watches you for a moment, his eyes dark, his lips parted, a thin line of saliva still connecting his mouth to your skin. He kisses down your body connecting his lips to your wet pussy.

The first touch of his tongue makes your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. He works you slow, deliberate, his tongue moving in circles that make your vision blur. He knows exactly what he's doing. Your hands find his hair again. This time he doesn't pull away. He lets you hold on, lets you grip the strands, lets you use him to ground yourself as the pressure builds in your belly.

He adds a finger. Then two. Curling them inside you, finding the spot that makes you see stars, and his mouth never stops. His tongue is relentless, circling, pressing, sucking, driving you higher and higher until you're trembling, until you're gasping, until you're right on the edge. The sounds coming out of your mouth are desperate, broken, nothing like the composed person you are in the rest of your life.

"I'm close," you breathe. "I'm-"

He pulls back.

You cry out. The sound echoes off the walls, raw and needy. Your legs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking. Your hands pull at his hair, trying to drag his mouth back to where you need him, but he doesn't move. "Did I say you could come?" You shake your head. Your voice is gone.

He lowers his mouth again. Slower this time. Teasing. His tongue traces patterns on you, learning you again, taking you apart piece by piece. He spells out letters- your initials, his, words you can't quite make out and each stroke of his tongue sends electricity through your body. His fingers move inside you, slow and deep, and he builds you up again, higher this time, pushing you toward something you can't name.

Your hips move against his mouth. Your hands pull his hair. You're beyond thinking, beyond words, beyond anything except the feeling of him, the pressure building, the need coiling tight in your belly. "Please," you gasp. "Please, I need-"

He pulls back again.

You sob. The sound tears out of you, raw and desperate, and he stands up, his mouth slick, his chin wet, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, watching you fall apart against the door. "You want to cum?" he asks. "Mhhmm Yes." "Beg like the good fucking whore you are."

You look at him. His face is hard, his jaw tight, his hands on your hips. His thumbs press into the hollow of your hip bones, holding you in place. He's not going to give you what you want. He's going to make you ask for it. He's going to make you earn it.

"Please," you say. Your voice cracks. "Please, Heeseung. I need to cum. I need you to let me cum. I'll be good. I'll be so good. Just please-"

He kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, slick and sweet, and he swallows your sounds as his hands move to his belt, slow, deliberate, and the sound of leather sliding through metal makes your thighs press together. He sees it. His mouth curves. He pulls his jeans down, kicks them aside. His boxers follow. He's hard, thick, his cock curving up toward his stomach, and your mouth waters at the sight of him. He wraps his hand around himself, strokes once, twice, watching your face.

"You want this?" he asks. "Yes." "How bad?" "So bad. I need it. I need you."

He climbs onto the bed. His body covers yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his hips settling between your legs. The heat of him radiates through your skin. "You want to cum for me?" he says against your mouth. "Then cum for me."

He pushes inside you in one motion.

Your body arches. Your hands claw at his back. He's thick, stretching you, filling you, and the pressure of him inside you after being denied for so long makes your eyes roll back. He doesn't wait. He doesn't give you time to adjust. He moves hard, fast, his hips driving into you, his mouth on your neck, his hands gripping your thighs.

The sound of it fills the room. Skin slapping against skin. The bed frame hitting the wall. Your moans, his grunts, the wet sounds of him moving inside you. He fucks you like he's been waiting for this, like he's been holding back for years, like every night he spent watching you with Jake is being driven out of him with every thrust.

"You feel that?" he asks, his voice rough in your ear. "You feel how good you are for me? How perfect you are when you're not thinking, not fighting, just taking what I give you?"

You can't answer. You can't speak. Your nails dig into his back, leaving red trails down his shoulder. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he drives into you harder.

"Look at you," he says. He pulls back just enough to watch his cock disappear inside you, to watch the way your body takes him. "Look how wet you are. How hungry you are. You've been waiting for this. Waiting for someone to fuck you like this."

He reaches between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, pressing in time with his thrusts. The pressure builds faster this time, coiling tighter, pushing you toward the edge you've been denied twice now. Your vision blurs. Your hands grip his arms, his shoulders, anything you can hold onto.

"You're going to cum for me," he says. "You're going to cum so hard you forget your own name. And when you do, I want you to say my name. I want everyone to hear who you belong to."

His thumb presses harder. His hips drive deeper. His body is slick with sweat, his hair falling across his forehead, his jaw tight with concentration. He's watching you fall apart, watching the moment your control breaks, watching you shatter underneath him.

"Now," he says. "Cum for me. Now."

The pressure inside you breaks.

You scream. His name tears from your throat, loud in the quiet room, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, holding him there. Your back arches off the bed, your hands grip his arms hard enough to bruise, and you feel everything every nerve, every muscle, every cell of your body release at once.

He groans, his face buried in your neck, his hips stuttering against yours. His body tenses, his grip on your thighs tightens, and he follows you over the edge, his voice breaking on your name, his body shuddering against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

He collapses beside you. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him, his face buried in your hair. You're both breathing hard, your skin slick with sweat, your bodies tangled together in the sheets. His chest is heaving against your back. His heart is pounding so hard you can feel it through his ribs.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "You okay?"

You nod. Your voice is gone.

He pulls you closer. His hand finds yours, his fingers interlacing with yours, and he holds you in the quiet. He laughs low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back. "Amazing. You were amazing."

You turn in his arms, face him. His face is soft now, the hard lines gone, the control slipped away. He looks like the boy who brought you coffee on Tuesdays. His hair is damp, his lips swollen, his eyes heavy-lidded and warm. "I need water," you say.

He kisses your forehead. "I'll get it."

He disappears into the kitchen. You lie in his bed, the sheets tangled around you, your body still humming, your mind quiet for the first time in weeks. Your thighs are sticky, your back is marked with scratches, your lips are swollen. You can still feel him inside you, the ghost of him, the memory of how he filled you.

He comes back with a glass of water, helps you sit up, watches you drink. His eyes move over your body, the marks he left, the way your hair is tangled, the flush still on your skin. When you're done, he takes the glass, sets it on the nightstand, and pulls you back down beside him. His arm wraps around your waist. His leg hooks over yours. He holds you like he's afraid you'll disappear.

"Stay," he says.

You look at him. "Okay."

His arm tightens around you. His breath evens out. His heart slows beneath your ear. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself be held.

The days after the game feel different.

You tell yourself nothing has changed. You still go to class. You still study. You still let Yunjin drag you to the dining hall. But something has shifted. You feel it in the way your body remembers Heeseung's hands, his mouth, the way he said your name. You feel it in the silence that stretches between you and Jake now, the things you're not saying, the secret you're carrying. You're going to tell him. You know you have to. You just need to find the right moment.

The right moment finds you first. It's Thursday. You're sitting on the steps outside the library, trying to focus on a reading you've read three times without absorbing a word. The afternoon sun is warm, the campus quiet, and you've been here for an hour while your mind drifts. You hear footsteps. You don't need to look up to know who it is. You know the rhythm of his walk, the weight of his presence. Jake sits down beside you. He doesn't say anything at first. That's not unusual. Jake is comfortable with silence. But this silence is different. Heavier. Charged.

You look at him. His face is tight. His jaw is set. He's looking at the quad, not at you, and there's something in his posture that makes your stomach tighten. "I heard about the game," he says. You knew this was coming. You've been preparing for it. "Jake-" "I heard you were in the locker room with him. After." His voice is clipped, controlled. "I heard you left together." You take a breath. "Yeah." He turns to look at you. His eyes are cold. You've never seen Jake look at you like this. "So it's true," he says. "You fucked him."

The word lands like a slap. You stare at him. "Excuse me?" "You heard me." He doesn't look away. His voice is flat, emotionless. "You've been stringing me along for four years, making me wait, making me think I had a chance. And the whole time, you were just waiting for him to finally make a move." Your hands curl into fists. "That's not what happened." "No?" He laughs, but there's nothing funny in it. "Then what happened? You just happened to end up in the locker room with him? You just happened to leave together? You just happened to-" "Stop." Your voice is sharp. "You don't get to talk to me like that." "I don't get to?" He stands up. You stand with him. "I've been here for four years. Four years of waiting. Four years of watching you run back and forth between us. And you couldn't even tell me? You let me find out from other people?" "I was going to tell you." "When? After you fucked him again?" His voice rises. "After you decided which one of us was worth your time? After you got tired of playing games?"

Your blood runs hot. "Playing games? You guys are the ones who are acting like I'm some kind of prize." He flinches. Just slightly. But he doesn't back down. "That was back then," he says. "I was stupid. I'm not treating you like a prize anymore. I know what I want. But you've been playing games this whole time. You liked it. You liked having both of us chasing you. You liked the attention. You liked being wanted." The words hit you like a blade. "You don't mean that." "I mean it." His voice is cold, steady. "You've had four years to choose. Four years to figure out what you want. And you didn't. Because you didn't want to choose. You wanted to keep us both on the hook. You wanted to know you could have us whenever you wanted."

Your chest is heaving. Your hands are shaking. "You're just saying this because you're hurt." "I'm saying it because it's true." He steps closer. "You slept with him, and you didn't tell me. You let me sit next to you in class. You let me hold your hand. You let me think-" His voice cracks, but he steadies it. "You let me think I meant something to you. And all that time, you were just waiting for him." Your voice is shaking. "You're standing here, acting like I'm the one who did something wrong, because I slept with someone I've known for four years? Because I didn't tell you fast enough?" "Jake you're not even my boyfriend." He opens his mouth. Closes it. For the first time, he doesn't have a response. Your voice is steady now. "You don't get to be angry because I made a choice you didn't like. You don't get to call me names because I didn't choose you."

He stares at you. His face is pale, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. But he doesn't apologize. He doesn't take it back. "You know what?" he says. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're not worth waiting for." The words hang in the air between you. You feel them like a wound, sharp and deep. "Get away from me," you say. He doesn't move. "I said get the fuck away from me." He turns. He walks away. His shoulders are stiff, his head down. You watch him disappear across the quad, and you don't call after him. You don't run after him. You stand there, your hands shaking, your eyes burning.

You sit back down on the steps. Your books are still spread out around you, your coffee long cold, your phone buzzing in your pocket. You don't look at it. You don't move. You think about what he said. You liked the attention. You liked being wanted. The words echo in your head, looping and repeating. You think about the years of watching them orbit you, never choosing, never having to. About the way you let them both stay close, let them both hope, let them both wait. Your phone buzzes again. You look at it. Yunjin: Jake just showed up at Jay's. He looks like shit. What happened? You stare at the message. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You type: He found out about Heeseung. He called me a game player. Said I like the attention. Said I wasn't worth waiting for. Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Do you want me to come over? You think about it. No, I need to be alone. You type. Okay. I'm here if you need me. You put the phone down. You sit on the steps as the sun sets, as the campus empties, as the light fades to gray. You let the anger settle in your chest. You let the hurt settle underneath it. He was wrong. You know he was wrong. But some part of you wonders if he was right.

Three days pass. You don't talk to Jake. You don't talk to Heeseung. You go to class, you sit in the back, you leave before anyone can catch your eye. Yunjin brings you food you barely eat. Sakura leaves notes on your door. Chae sends you memes that you look at without seeing. You're not sad. You're not angry. You're just empty. On Friday, Yunjin shows up at your apartment. She doesn't knock. She uses the key you gave her freshman year and walks straight into your bedroom, where you've been lying on your bed for the past two hours, staring at the ceiling. "You're coming tonight," she says. You don't look at her. "I'm not going anywhere." "Sunghoon's having a party. Everyone's going to be there." She sits on the edge of your bed, her hand finding your arm. "You need to get out of this apartment. You need to see people. You need to-" "I need to not see them." "Then don't see them. But you can't hide forever." She's right. You hate that she's right.

She pulls out her phone, scrolls for a moment, shows you the screen. A message from Sunghoon in the group chat. Party tonight. Everyone come. No excuses. And then another message, sent a few minutes later. Heeseung said he's coming. He asked if you'll be there. Your heart stutters. You stare at the screen. Three days of silence, and he's asking about you through Sunghoon. Yunjin watches your face. "You don't have to talk to him. But you should go. Get dressed. Dance. Forget about everything for one night." You think about it. About the silence that's been pressing on your chest for three days. About Heeseung's hands, his mouth, the way he said your name. About Jake's voice, cold and sharp, saying maybe you're not worth waiting for. "Fine," you say. "One hour." Yunjin grins. "That's what you always say."

As always the party is already in full swing when you arrive. The music loud enough to feel in your chest, the lights low and golden. You let Yunjin pull you through the crowd, let her put a drink in your hand, let the noise wash over you. For the first time in three days, you feel something other than the weight of everything you've been carrying. You see Heeseung across the room. He's leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand, his jacket unzipped, his hair falling across his forehead. He's talking to Sunoo, but his eyes are scanning the room, looking for something. Looking for you. When he sees you, his face changes. Softens. He excuses himself from Sunoo and starts walking toward you. You could walk away. You could find Yunjin, find Sakura, find anyone who isn't him. You don't. You stand there, your drink in your hand, your heart pounding, and wait.

He stops in front of you. Close enough to touch. His eyes move over your face, your dress, your hands, like he's checking that you're real. "You came," he says. "You asked." He smiles. It's small, real, the smile he only lets you see. "I didn't think you would. After-" You shake your head. "I needed to get out." He nods. He doesn't bring up the locker room, the dorm, the night that's been sitting between you for three days. He just stands there, close enough to touch, and lets the silence be whatever it needs to be. "Drink?" he asks. You hold up your cup. "Already have one." He looks at it, raises an eyebrow. "That's Sunoo's punch. You're braver than I thought." You laugh, and it's the first time you've laughed in days. "It's terrible." "It's always terrible." He takes the cup from your hand, sets it on a nearby table, and offers you his hand. "Dance with me." You look at his hand. At his face. At the boy who's been watching you for four years. "Dance with me," he says again. "Forget about everything. Just for tonight." You take his hand.

He pulls you onto the dance floor. The music is loud, the beat heavy, and he moves with you like he's been waiting for this. His hands find your waist, yours find his shoulders, and for a while, you don't think about anything else. You don't think about Jake. You don't think about the argument. You don't think about the four years of not choosing. He's a good dancer. Not in the careful way Jake is, but in the way that comes from confidence, from knowing exactly what his body can do. His hands move down your back, your hips, pulling you closer, and you let him. "You're staring," he says. "You're worth staring at." He grins. "That's my line." "You've used it enough. I figured I'd borrow it." He pulls you closer, his mouth near your ear. "You look beautiful tonight." Your chest tightens. "Heeseung-" "I just wanted you to know."

The song changes, something slower, and he pulls you against him, your cheek against his chest, his arms around your waist. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and real. "I've missed you," he says quietly. You close your eyes. "I've missed you too." He pulls back after a while. His face is flushed, his hair damp at the temples, his eyes bright. "I need to use the bathroom," he says. "I'll be right back." You nod. He squeezes your hand once, then disappears into the crowd.

You wait. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. The music plays on, the crowd moves around you, and you stand there, waiting for him to come back. Something doesn't feel right. You push through the crowd toward the hallway where the bathrooms are. The hallway is quieter, the music muffled, the lights dim. You pass the bathroom door empty, the light off. He's not there. You keep walking. Toward the back of the house, toward the rooms you've never been in. You find him at the end of the hallway. He's pressed against the wall, a girl in front of him. Her hands are on his chest. Her mouth is on his. And he's kissing her back. You stop. Your hands go cold. Your chest caves in. You watch his hands slide down her sides. You watch her press closer. You watch him kiss her the way he kissed you, and something inside you breaks.

He pulls back first. He says something to her, something you can't hear. She laughs, runs a hand through his hair, and disappears into one of the rooms. He turns. He sees you. His face goes white. "Y/N-" You don't run. You don't cry. You walk toward him, slow and steady, and stop when you're close enough to see the panic in his eyes. "You said you were going to the bathroom," you say. Your voice is calm. You don't know how. "Y/N, it's not what you think." You laugh. It's hollow, empty. "You were kissing her. I saw you." "She came onto me. I wasn't-" "You were kissing her back." Your voice is rising now. "You were kissing her like you kissed me. Like I meant nothing." "That's not true." He reaches for you. You step back. "Don't touch me." He drops his hand. His face is pale, his eyes wide. "Y/N, please. It didn't mean anything. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking. I-" "Really this is the best excuse you got."

His jaw tightens. "That's not fair." "Not fair?" Your voice cracks. "You asked me to come tonight. You danced with me. You told me you missed me. And then you disappeared to kiss someone else while I was waiting for you." "I told you, it didn't mean anything." "Then what did I mean?" You're shaking now. "Was I just something to pass the time until something better came along?" His face hardens. "You're the one who ran back to Jake. You're the one who never chose. You're the one who-" "I didn't run back to Jake. I was trying to figure out what I wanted." "And what did you figure out?" He steps closer, and his voice is sharp now. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't know what you want. You've never known. And you've been dragging both of us along for four years because you're too scared to make a decision."

The words hit you like a blade. "Heeseung, are you serious right now?" "Yes, I'm serious." His voice is cold. "You like the attention. You like knowing we both want you. That's why you never chose. Because if you chose, you'd have to give something up. And you're too selfish to do that." You stare at him. The boy who brought you coffee. The boy who said you were the best thing that ever happened to him. "I slept with you," you say, your voice breaking. "I trusted you. And you're standing here calling me selfish because I caught you kissing someone else?" For a moment, something flickers in his eyes regret, maybe, or shame. But then it's gone. "You should go," he says. You don't move. You can't. "Go, Y/N." His voice is flat. "Go find Jake. Go run back to him like you always do."

The tears come before you can stop them. Hot and fast, streaming down your face, and you hate that he's seeing this, hate that he's the one making you cry. "Fine," you whisper. "You know what I will go run to Jake." You turn. You walk away. You don't look back.

You make it to the front porch before your legs give out. You sink onto the steps, your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking. The tears won't stop. They keep coming, hot and ugly, and you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except sit and fall apart. You don't hear the door open. You don't know anyone is there until a jacket settles around your shoulders and a familiar voice says your name. "Y/N." You look up. Jake is kneeling in front of you, his face close, his eyes worried. He's not angry. He's not cold. He's just here. "Hey," he says softly. "Hey, I've got you." You shake your head, try to pull away. "You said I wasn't worth waiting for." He flinches. "I didn't mean it. I was angry. I was hurt. I didn't mean a word of it."

You look at him. His face is open, raw, the way it's always been when it's just the two of you. "He kissed someone else. Heeseung. I saw him. And he said-" Your voice breaks. "He said I'm selfish. He said I like the attention. He said I never choose because I'm too scared to give anything up." Jake's jaw tightens. Something dark passes through his eyes. But he doesn't say anything about Heeseung. He doesn't defend him or attack him. He just looks at you, and his hand finds yours, warm and steady. "He's wrong," he says. "You're not selfish. You're not attention seeking. You're someone who's been hurt, who's been scared, who's been trying to figure out what she wants. And that's okay. That's more than okay." You stare at him. "You really believe that?" "I believe that you're worth waiting for." He squeezes your hand. "I've always believed that. And I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't."

The tears come again, but they're different now. Softer. He pulls you into his arms, his hand on your back, his chin on your head, and you let him hold you. You let yourself be held. "I've got you," he says again. "I'm not going anywhere." You close your eyes. His chest is warm, his arms steady, his heart beating beneath your ear. For the first time in days, you let yourself breathe.

You sit on the steps for a long time, Jake's jacket around your shoulders, his arm around your waist, his hand on your hip. The party noise is muffled behind you, the voices fading into background noise. The night is cool, you're still trying to catch your breath, still trying to stop the tears that keep coming no matter how hard you press your palms to your eyes. Jake doesn't say anything. He doesn't tell you it's going to be okay. He doesn't ask any questions. He just sits beside you, his arm steady around you, his thumb tracing slow circles on your side, waiting.

Your breathing evens out after a while. The tears slow, then stop. You lean into him, your head on his shoulder, and let yourself exist in the quiet. "I'm sorry," you say finally. Your voice is hoarse, raw. "What for?" "For everything. For not telling you about Heeseung. For-" You stop. Your throat tightens. "For making you feel like you were waiting for nothing." He's quiet for a moment. His hand stills on your side. "You didn't make me feel like that," he says. "I said things I didn't mean. I was angry. I was hurt. And I took it out on you. That wasn't fair." "You were right, though." You pull back, look at him. His face is half lit by the porch light, his eyes dark and soft. "I have been running back and forth. I have been scared to choose. I've been so scared of losing one of you that I never let myself have either."

He reaches up, his hand cupping your face, his thumb brushing the tear tracks from your cheek. "You're allowed to be scared. You're allowed to not know what you want. That doesn't make you selfish. That doesn't make you anything except human." You lean into his touch. His palm is warm, his fingers gentle. "I don't want to be scared anymore," you whisper. He looks at you for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression something soft, something careful, something that looks like hope. "Then let me help you forget," he says. You blink. "What?" "Tonight. Forget about Heeseung. Forget about the fight. Forget about everything that happened." His hand slides into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands. "Let me take you somewhere quiet. Somewhere that's just us. And let me remind you that you're worth everything." Your heart pounds. "Jake" He leans in, his forehead touching yours. His breath is warm on your lips. "I'm not asking for anything you're not ready to give. I'm just asking you to let me be here. Let me help you forget." "Okay," you say.

He smiles. The smile that's been yours since the beginning. He stands, pulls you up with him, and his hand finds yours. "My place," he says. "It's closer." You nod. He squeezes your hand once, and you let him lead you off the porch, away from the party, away from Heeseung, away from everything that happened tonight. The night air is cool on your skin, the streets quiet, the campus empty. His hand is warm in yours, his thumb tracing patterns on your palm, and for the first time in days, you let yourself breathe.

The morning after Jake's apartment, you wake up in your own bed. You only remember his hands, his mouth, the way he said your name. You remember the quiet afterwards, his arm around your waist, his breath warm on your neck, the way he held you like he wasn't ready to let go. You stayed until the sun came up. And then you left. Now you're lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together everything that's happened in the past week. Heeseung in the locker room. Jake on the porch. Heeseung's hands, Jake's mouth. The way both of them said your name like it meant something. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it without looking. Yunjin: I'm coming over. Don't try to stop me. You don't try to stop her.

She shows up twenty minutes later with coffee and a bag of pastries. She doesn't say anything at first. She just sets the coffee on your nightstand, kicks off her shoes, and climbs into bed beside you. You lie there for a moment, side by side, staring at the ceiling. "I slept with Jake after Sunghoon's party and with Heeseung after his game," you say. She doesn't react. You keep going. "Then Jake found out. He said some things. I said some things. We didn't talk for days." You take a breath. "Then at Sunghoon's most recent party, Heeseung kissed someone else. I saw it. We had a fight. He said I was selfish. He said I like the attention. He said I never choose because I'm too scared to give anything up." Yunjin's hand finds yours. She doesn't say anything. "And then Jake found me on the porch. He took me to his place. And I slept with him again."

The words hang in the air. You wait for her to say something to tell you that you're wrong, that you're making a mistake, that you need to figure out what you want before you hurt everyone including yourself. Instead, she squeezes your hand. "That's a lot," she says. You laugh. It's weak. "That's all you have to say?" "I have a lot to say. I'm just trying to figure out where to start." She turns on her side, facing you. "How do you feel? About both of them?" You think about it. About Heeseung's hands in the locker room, the way he looked at you after the game, the way he said he made that shot for you. About Jake on the porch, his arms around you, the way he said you're worth waiting for. "I don't know," you admit. "I care about both of them. I've cared about both of them for four years. And I keep thinking that if I just had more time, I'd figure it out. But it's been four years, Yunjin. And I still don't know."

She's quiet for a moment. Then "Can I tell you something?" You nod. "When I was trying to figure out what I wanted with Jay, I kept waiting for a sign. Something that would tell me it was the right choice. And I waited so long that I almost missed it. I almost let fear keep me from something that could have been really good." She looks at you. "You're not going to get a sign. You're not going to wake up one day and magically know. You have to choose. And it's going to be scary. And you might make the wrong choice. But not choosing that's a choice too. And it's the one that hurts everyone the most."

You stare at her. "Since when did you get so wise?" She smiles. "Since I spent two years watching you do exactly what I was doing." You laugh, and it's real this time. "What should I do?" "I think you should talk to him. Heeseung. Hear what he has to say." She squeezes your hand. "Not because you have to forgive him. Not because you have to choose him. But because you deserve to know the whole story before you make up your mind."

You think about it. About Heeseung's face in the hallway, the way he said you should go. About the fight, the words that are still echoing in your head. "What if he was right?" you ask. "What if I am selfish? What if I do just like the attention?" Yunjin's face hardens. "He was wrong. He was hurt and he was angry and he said things he shouldn't have said. But that doesn't mean you should let those words live in your head forever." She sits up, swings her legs over the side of the bed. "Talk to him. Hear him out. And then decide what you want." She leaves before you can respond. The door closes behind her, and you're alone again, staring at the ceiling, thinking about her words.

He texts you that afternoon. Can we talk? You stare at the message for a long time. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Where? The library steps. Where we always used to meet. I'll wait. You put your phone down. You get dressed. You walk across campus, your hands in your pockets, your heart pounding.

He's sitting on the steps when you arrive. His jacket is unzipped, his hair is messy, and he looks like he hasn't slept. When he sees you, he stands up, and for a moment, neither of you moves. "Thanks for coming," he says. You don't say anything. You sit down on the steps. After a moment, he sits beside you. Not too close. Far enough that you could walk away if you wanted to. "I was wrong," he says. "At the party. Everything I said it was wrong. I was angry. I was hurt. And I took it out on you." You look at him. "You kissed someone else." He flinches. "I know." "After you asked me to come. After you danced with me. After you said you missed me." "I know." His voice cracks. "I don't have an excuse. I was scared. I was-" He stops. Runs a hand through his hair. "I saw you with Jake. At the party before. I saw you dancing with him. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. About you. About him. About what it would be like when you finally chose him." "That doesn't give you the right to kiss someone else." "I know." He turns to look at you. His eyes are red rimmed, his face open in a way you've rarely seen. "I've been in love with you for four years. And I've been watching you with him, watching you not choose, telling myself that if I just waited long enough, you'd see me the way I see you. And then you came to the game. You came to the locker room. You came to my dorm. And I thought-" His voice breaks. "I thought maybe I'd finally won. Maybe you'd finally chosen me."

You don't say anything. You let him talk. "And then I saw you with Jake at the party. The way you looked at him. The way he looked at you. And I realized-" He stops. Swallows. "I realized I was never going to be him. I was never going to be the one you ran to when things got hard. I was never going to be the one who stayed." "You never stayed," you say quietly. "That was the problem. You were always leaving. Always disappearing. Always making me wait while you figured out what you wanted." He looks at you. "Is that what you think?" "That's what you did."

He's quiet for a moment. "I was scared. Every time I get close to you, I get scared. Scared that you'd choose him. Scared that I wasn't good enough. Scared that if I let myself want you too much, I'd lose you. So I pushed. I pulled away. I made excuses. And I hurt you because I was too scared to let myself be hurt." You look at him. At the man who's been running from something he's wanted for four years. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," he says. "I'm not asking you to choose me. I just-I needed you to know before it's too late, before I-." Your throat tightens. "Before you what?" "Nothing, it's nothing dont worry about it." He says voice shaky letting you know it is something to worry about but you don't push.

You look at his hand. At his face. At the years of wanting and waiting and never quite choosing. You take a breath. "I'm glad we were able to talk things out." His hand tightens around yours. "Does that mean-" "It means I'm not going to disappear. It means I'm going to think about what you said. It means-" You stop. Look at him. "It means I'm not going to make a decision right now. I need time." He nods slowly. "I can wait." You pull your hand away. Stand up. He stands with you. "I'm not asking you to wait," you say. He smiles. It's small, sad, real. "I know." You turn. You walk away. You don't look back. But this time, it doesn't feel like an ending.

The weeks after your conversation with Heeseung settle into something you didn't expect. It's not a relationship. It's not a choice. It's not anything you can name. But there's a rhythm now, a balance that wasn't there before. You see Heeseung at practice, watch him from the stands sometimes, let him walk you to class when your schedules align. You see Jake at the dining hall, let him save you a seat, let his hand find yours under the table when no one's looking. Neither of them pushes. Neither of them asks. Neither of them makes you choose. You're not sure if that makes it easier or harder.

"You're doing it again," Yunjin says. You're sitting in her apartment, a textbook open in your lap, your phone face-down on the couch beside you. She's sprawled on the other end, a bag of chips in her hand, watching you with the particular expression she gets when she's about to say something you don't want to hear. "Doing what?" "Staring at nothing. Thinking about them." You look at her. "I'm studying." "You've been on the same page for like an hour." You glance down at your textbook. She's right. You haven't read a single word. Yunjin sets the chips aside, pulls her legs under her. "Talk to me." You close the book. "I don't know what to do." "About which one?" "About both." You lean your head back against the couch, stare at the ceiling. "I keep thinking that if I just had more time, I'd figure it out. But it's been four years, Yunjin."

She's quiet for a bit then says. "Maybe you're not supposed to know. Maybe you're supposed to stop trying to figure it out and just feel." You look at her. "That's very philosophical for someone who spent two years pretending she didn't like Jay." She throws a pillow at you. "I'm trying to help." You catch the pillow, hold it against your chest. "I know. I just don't want to hurt anyone. And I feel like no matter what I do, someone's going to get hurt." She slides closer, her knee bumping yours. "You can't control that. You can only control what you do. And whatever you choose, whatever happens, I'm here. Okay?" You look at her. At the person who's been your anchor for four years. "Okay."

She grins. "Good. Now stop moping. We have a party to get ready for." You blink. "What party?" "Sunghoon's end of semester thing. The big one. Everyone's going to be there." You groan. "Another party?" "This one's different." She's already on her feet, pulling you up. "This is the last one. The final party. The one everyone talks about for years after. You can't miss it." "I'm tired of parties." "You're tired of thinking. That's different."

She pulls you toward her closet, starts flipping through hangers. "You need to let loose. Dance. Drink. Forget about everything for one night. And everyone's going to be there. Jake. Heeseung. The whole group. It's going to be perfect." You lean against the doorframe. "What if I don't want to see them?" "Then don't see them. But you can't hide forever." She pulls out a dress, holds it against you. "Besides, you look hot in this. And if you look hot, you feel hot. And if you feel hot, you stop thinking about stupid boys for five minutes." You look at the dress. It's black, short, the kind of dress you wear when you want to be noticed. The kind of dress you haven't worn in weeks. "Fine," you say. "One hour." She grins. "Ughhhh That's what you always sayyy."

Sunghoon's house is packed as always, the music loud enough to feel in your chest, the lights low and golden. You can hear laughter from every room, see bodies pressed together, catch glimpses of faces you've known for years and faces you've never seen before. Yunjin pulls you through the crowd, her hand tight on your wrist, her energy infectious. She's wearing the dress she bought for tonight, the one she's been saving, and she looks like she's ready to take over the world. "Drink," she says, shoving a cup into your hand. "Sunoo's punch. It's terrible. Drink it anyway." You take a sip. It is terrible. You take another. You let her pull you onto the dance floor, let the music move through you, let yourself forget for a moment that you came here with weights on your chest. Yunjin is laughing, her arms around your neck, her voice loud in your ear, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself exist in the moment.

You see Jake across the room. He's leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand, watching you with something soft in his eyes. When you catch his gaze, he smiles, small and real, and something in your chest loosens. You see Heeseung on the other side. He's standing with Sunghoon, his favorite leather jacket on , his hair falling across his forehead. He's watching you too, his expression unreadable, but when your eyes meet, he nods. Just once. You look away first.

The night moves on. You dance until your feet hurt. You drink until the edges of the room go soft. You laugh at things that aren't funny, let yourself be pulled from room to room, let the noise and the lights and the bodies press in around you until you forget why you were ever scared. Yunjin finds you in the kitchen, her face flushed, her hair escaping from the clip she's been fighting all night. "Sunghoon's setting up a game," she says, breathless. "What game?" She grins. "Seven minutes in heaven. You're playing." You shake your head. "I'm not playing." "You're playing." She grabs your arm, pulls you toward the living room. "Everyone's playing. It's tradition."

The living room has been transformed. A bottle sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by pillows and cushions, and the hallway leading to the bedrooms is dimly lit, a closet at the end waiting. People are gathered in a circle, sitting on the floor, leaning against walls, cups in hands, faces lit up with anticipation. You see Jake on one side of the circle, Heeseung on the other. They're not looking at each other. They're looking at you. Yunjin pulls you down beside her. Sunghoon is in the center, his phone in his hand, his face serious. "Rules are simple," he announces. "Spin the bottle. Seven minutes in the closet. Whatever happens in there stays in there."

The first spin lands on Sunoo and a girl you don't recognize. They disappear down the hallway, and the room holds its breath. Seven minutes later, they emerge, flushed and laughing, and the circle erupts. The bottle spins again. And again. Each time, two people disappear down the hallway, and the room waits, and the night stretches on. You're watching, not participating, when Sunghoon calls your name. "Your turn." You look at him. "I'm not playing." "You're playing." He's already reaching for the bottle, his fingers wrapping around the glass. "It's your senior year. You can't say no." He spins. The bottle turns. Once. Twice. Three times. It slows, wobbles, stops. Pointing directly at Jake.

The room erupts. Yunjin shoves you forward, and you stumble into the center of the circle. Across from you, Jake is already standing, his face unreadable, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on you. "Seven minutes," Sunghoon announces, pulling out his phone. "Timer starts now." Someone pushes you toward the hallway. Jake follows. The closet door closes behind you, and suddenly it's just the two of you, in the dark, the noise of the party muffled to a distant hum.

The closet is small. There's barely enough room for the two of you, your shoulders touching. Clothes hang above you, jackets and coats that smell like Sunghoon's house, like the parties you've been coming to for four years. For a moment, neither of you moves. "Hi," he says. "Hi." He laughs softly. "This isn't how I pictured our next conversation going." "How did you picture it?" "I don't know. Less... closet." You laugh, and it's nervous, maybe, or something else you don't want to name. "It's very closet." "Very closet." He shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours. "I've been wanting to talk to you. For a while. About what happened at the party. About ya know everything." "You don't have to explain." "I want to." He turns to face you, and even in the dark, you can see his face, the sparkle in his eyes, the openness that's always been there. "I've been in love with you since freshman year. I know you're not ready to hear that. I know you're still figuring things out. But I needed you to know. Before everything changes."

Your heart is pounding. "Jake-" "I'm not asking you to choose. I'm not asking you to be ready. I'm just asking you to let me be here. For as long as you want me." You step closer. He doesn't move. He waits. You kiss him. It's soft. Gentle. The way he's always been. His hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks, and he kisses you back like he's been waiting for this his whole life. His lips are warm, his hands steady, and for a moment, there's nothing else. No party. No future. No choices. Just him. He pulls back first, his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. "I don't want to rush you," he breathes. "You're not rushing me." "I don't want to be something you regret." You look at him, his dark eyes, his swollen lips, the way he's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters. "You're not something I regret," you say. "You never have been." He kisses you again, and this time, there's nothing careful about it.

Neither of you hears the timer. The door opens. Light floods in, and you blink, disoriented, your hands still tangled in Jake's hair, his arms still wrapped around your waist. Heeseung is standing in the doorway. His face is unreadable. His hands are clenched at his sides. He looks at you. He looks at Jake. He looks at the way Jake's hands are on your waist, the way your fingers are still in his hair. "Time's up," he says. His voice is flat. You step back. Jake's hands fall away. The hallway is crowded. People are watching. You can feel their eyes on you, waiting to see what happens next. Yunjin is at the front of the crowd, her hand over her mouth. Sunghoon is beside her, his phone still in his hand, the timer long since finished.

Heeseung doesn't move. He just stands there, blocking the door, his eyes fixed on you. "Out," he says. You move to leave. But before you can step past him, his hand shoots out, blocking the door. "Not you," he says. He looks at Jake. "Him." Jake tenses. "Heeseung-" "Out." For a moment, no one moves. Then Jake looks at you, something unreadable in his eyes. And walks away. Heeseung doesn't give you time to process what's happening before he drags you into a room. Little did you know Jake was just a few steps behind.

It's just you and Heeseung, in the room, the noise of the party fading to nothing. He doesn't touch you. He doesn't move. He just stands there, his hand still on the wall behind you, his breathing heavy. "You've been doing this for four years," he says. "Running back and forth. Making us wait. Making us want." "Heeseung-" He turns to face you. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight, his chest heaving. "I've been watching you with him. Watching you not choose. And I told myself it was fine. I told myself I could wait. But I can't keep doing this." "What are you saying?" He steps closer. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, smell the familiar scent of his jacket, see the pulse beating in his throat. "I'm saying that if you want him, I need you to choose. Not because I think I deserve you. But because I can't keep being the person you come to when you're not sure about him."

Your throat tightens. "I never used you." "I know." His voice is softer now. "I know you didn't. But I've been waiting for four years for you to see me the way I see you. And I don't think you ever will." You stare at him. "Don't say that." "It's the truth." He steps closer, his body nearly touching yours. His hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek. You lean into his touch without thinking, your body betraying you, wanting him even when you're not sure you should. "Then stop pretending," you whisper. His eyes darken. His hand slides into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. "Tell me what you want," he says. You look at him. At the man who's been chasing you for four years. "I want you," you say. "I want both of you." His breath catches. His hand tightens in your hair. "Both of us?" You nod. Your heart is pounding, your chest tight, your body humming with something you've never let yourself want before.

He pulls back, just enough to look at you. Something passes through his eyes, surprise, maybe, or hunger, or something else you can't name. He opens the door of the room. The hallway is empty now, the crowd moved on, the game forgotten. But to your surprise Jake is right outside the door looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Jake," he calls. His face is guarded, his hands in his pockets, his eyes moving between you and Heeseung. Heeseung looks at Jake, and something passes between them, something that looks like understanding. "She wants both of us," Heeseung says. Jake's eyes widen. He looks at you. "Is that true?" He says stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

You step forward, your hand still in Heeseung's, your eyes on Jake. "I'm tired of choosing," you say. "I'm tired of running back and forth. I'm tired of pretending I don't want what I want." Jake stares at you. His hands drop to his sides. His face is open, raw, the way it only is when it's just the two of you. "And what do you want?" he asks. You look between them. Heeseung on one side, his hand tight around yours, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. Jake on the other, his face soft, his hands reaching for you, his heart in his hands. "I want you," you say. "Both of you. Tonight."

The silence that follows is louder than anything they could have said. Heeseung moves first. He pulls you toward him, his hand cupping your face, his mouth finding yours. He kisses you hard, desperate, like he's been waiting for this his whole life. You kiss him back, your hands fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer. When he pulls back, Jake is there. His hand finds your waist, turning you toward him, and his mouth is on yours, softer, slower, the way he's always been. You're between them. You've always been between them. But this time it's different. Heeseung's hand slides down your back. Jake's hand finds your hip. They're both touching you, both holding you, both looking at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters. Heeseung's lips brush your ear. "You sure about this?" You look at Jake. He nods. You look at Heeseung. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, his hand steady on your waist. "I'm sure," you say.

Heeseung looks at Jake. Something passes between them years of competition, of wanting, of waiting. And then Heeseung nods. "You've been thinking about this," he says. His voice is low, rough. "Haven't you?" Your breath catches. "Heeseung-" "Answer me." His hand slides up your throat, giving it a slight squeeze and letting it rest there, his thumb pressed against your pulse. He can feel how fast your heart is beating. He can feel how much you want this. "Yes," you breathe. He smiles. It's not the smile you're used to. It's darker, sharper, the smile of someone who knows exactly what he wants and knows exactly how to get it. He turns you to face him, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones. "Yes what?" "I need words cause once I start there's no going back." "Yes," you say. "I'm sure. I want this. I want both of you so much." His mouth curves into something dangerous. "My good girl."

He kisses you. Hard. Deep. His tongue slides against yours, and his hands are everywhere from your hair, your waist, your hips. He kisses like he's claiming you, and you let him. You arch into him, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. When he pulls back, your head spins. Your chest heaves. You're already breathless. He looks at Jake over your shoulder. "You want to touch her?" Jake's voice is rough. "Yes." "Then touch her." Jake's hands find your waist. His touch is softer than Heeseung's, gentler, but no less hungry. He pulls you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, his mouth finding your neck. Heeseung watches. His eyes move over you, over Jake's hands on your body, over the way you lean into his touch. Over the way Jake leans into your touch. "Take off her shirt," Heeseung says. Without hesitation Jake's hands slide under your shirt, pushing it up. He pulls it over your head, and the cool air hits your skin. His hands are warm on your stomach, your ribs, the sides of your breasts. "Her bra," Heeseung says. Jake unhooks it. His fingers are trembling. The bra falls to the floor, and Jake makes a sound behind you something low, something desperate as his hands cup your breasts.

Heeseung steps closer. His hand slides into your hair tugging it to tilt your head back. "You like this? You like the attention? Having both of us touch you?" "Yes, fuck I love It so much." His thumb traces your lower lip. "You're going to be so good for us tonight. Aren't you?" You nod. Your tongue flicks against his thumb. His eyes darken. "Get on the bed," he says. You lie back on the mattress. The sheets are cool against your skin, and the two of them stand at the foot of the bed, watching you. Jake's hands are shaking. Heeseung's are steady. "Jake," Heeseung says. "Her breasts. Seems to need some attention." Jake moves onto the bed, settling beside you. His mouth finds your nipple, and you gasp. His tongue is soft, gentle, the way he always is. He sucks lightly, his hand cupping your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple. Alternating between the two.

Heeseung kneels between your legs. His hands push your thighs apart, and you spread for him without thinking, your body already responding to his touch. "Look at you," he says. "Already so wet like some stupid slut. You've been wanting this, haven't you?" "Mhmm yes, want it so much." His fingers slowly trace your slit, gathering wetness, circling your clit. Your hips buck trying to get more. He presses you back down with his other hand. And lands a smack to your clit making you squirm under him. "Behave, not yet." "We're going to take our time with you pretty girl."

He slides one finger inside you. Then two. Your back arches, and Jake's mouth is on your breast, sucking harder now, his tongue flicking against your nipple. Heeseung's fingers curl inside you, finding the spot that makes your vision blur. "That's it," Heeseung murmurs. "You like that? You like when he plays with your nipples while I finger you?" You can't answer. Your hands grip the sheets. The pressure is building, coiling tight in your belly, and you're so close, so close- He pulls his fingers out. You cry out. The sound is desperate, broken, and Heeseung looks at you with satisfaction in his eyes. "Did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?" "Please," you gasp. "Please, I need- I want-" "Already so fucked out cant even form words huh? Tell me what do you need?" "I need to cum. Please, Heeseung. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you guys. Just let me cum."

He looks at Jake. "Eat her out. Make her taste herself on my fingers." Jake moves down the bed. His hands push your thighs apart, taking a moment to take in how wet you are, before you know it his mouth finds you. His tongue is soft at first, tentative, then firmer, faster, lapping at you like he's been starving. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open, and the sound he makes loud yet low, desperate and hungry sends heat flooding through your body. Heeseung is watching. His hand is in his pants, stroking himself, his eyes fixed on your face. Then down to Jake eating you out like a starved man. "She tastes good, doesn't she?" he asks. Jake moans against you sending waves throughout your body. His tongue circles your clit, faster now, and your hips buck against his face. He holds you down, his mouth relentless, his jaw working, and you can feel yourself getting close again, can feel the pressure building.

Heeseung pulls his hand out of his pants. His cock is hard, red and wet with pre cum at the tip begging for attention, he moves up the bed straddling your chest. "You're going to open your mouth for me right princess?" He says. You open your mouth. He slides his cock across your face and lips spreading his pre cum all over than finally into your mouth. The taste of him is warm and salty you moan around him, your tongue working, your lips stretching. His hand tangles in your hair, guiding you, setting the pace. "That's it. Take all of it like a fucking champ." Jake's mouth is still on you, his tongue still working, all while rutting onto the edge of the mattress pants already damp leaving a wet mark. Heeseung's hips are moving fast, pushing deeper into your throat, and you're drowning in sensation of the taste of him, the feel of Jake's tongue, the pressure building stronger in your stomach.

Heeseung pulls out. A strand of saliva connects you to him, and he smears it across your lips. And takes a look at Jakes wrecked state. "Pathetic fucking loser." He says loud enough for Jake to hear and make him let out a high pitched moan. Heeseung diverts his attention back to your flushed face lips parted trying to catch your breath. "I want to cum on your face," he says. "You want that?" "Yes Hee want it so much, please." He strokes himself over you, fast, hard, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on your face. When he cums, it's across your cheeks, your lips, your chin. Hot and thick. You feel it dripping down your skin, and you lick your lips, taste him, swallow. Then open your mouth to show. Heeseung watches you. "My good fucking girl."

He looks at Jake. "She came on your face?" Jake lifts his head. His mouth is slick, his chin wet, his chest heaving. "Not yet." Heeseung's hand finds your clit. You jerk. Your body is oversensitive, trembling, and the pressure is unbearable. "Then make her fucking cum loser." He pushes Jakes head back down holding it down until he's done. His tongue is faster now, harder, and Heeseung's fingers are inside you, curling, pressing, driving you toward the edge. Your hands find their hair Jake's soft strands, Heeseung's thicker ones and you hold on as the pressure builds, as your body tightens, as the world narrows to the feel of them. You cum on Jake's face. Your body arches, your mouth opens, and Heeseung's name tears from your throat. Jake drinks you down, his tongue lapping at you, and Heeseung's fingers work you through it, drawing it out until you're shaking, until you're begging him to stop.

He pulls his fingers out. Licks them clean. Dives his finger back in coating his fingers with your slick. "Open," he says leaving no more for argument. The second you open your mouth he hovers right above it and spits into it than finger fucks your mouth. Heeseung's fingers curl deeper into your mouth, pressing against your tongue, and the sound you make is wet, desperate, muffled around his knuckles. Saliva drips down your chin, pooling in the hollow of your throat, and your eyes water from the stretch, from the way he's holding you open, from the way he's watching you with something dark and satisfied in his expression. "My good little whore," he says. Making u moan against him. "Jake, fuck her dumb." He states

Jake is frozen, absolutely dazed, face flushed in awe at the way you're literally glowing. And watching Heeseung's fingers slide in and out of your mouth. Watching the mess he's making of you. Watching the way you take it. "What? Want me to finger fuck you to or something?" He teases, making himself let out a low chuckle. And Jake a high pitched whimper. "No fucking way" Heeseung says making direct eye contact with Jake. "You like watching?" His voice is low, rough, pitched for Jake's ears. His fingers never stop moving in your mouth. "You want to know what it feels like?" All of a sudden Jake's throat feels dry. His voice comes out strangled. "I-"

Heeseung's fingers slide out of your mouth with a wet pop. He reaches down, his fingers dragging through the mess on your chin, your throat, collecting the wetness on his knuckles from spit, tears and his cum all over you. Then he turns to Jake. He holds his hand out. His fingers are soaked, glistening in the low light. Jake stares at them. His breath catches. His lips part. Heeseung's thumb presses against Jake's lower lip, pulling it down. "Open up." Jake's eyes flutter. His mouth falls open. Heeseung pushes his fingers inside, slowly, watching Jake's face the whole time. Jake's eyes widen. His hands grip the sheets tighter. He makes a sound something between a gasp and a moan and Heeseung's expression shifts, something hungry surfacing. "There," Heeseung breathes. "That's it. Take it little boy." His fingers slide deeper. Jake's eyes close. His mouth works around them, tongue sliding against Heeseung's knuckles, and the sound he makes is low, desperate, muffled.

You watch them, your chest rising and falling, your body still trembling from Heeseung's hands on you. Jake's face is flushed, his lips stretched around Heeseung's fingers, his whole body arched toward him. Making you feel dizzy. Heeseung pulls his fingers out slowly, dragging them across Jake's tongue before letting them slide free. Jake gasps out of breath, his eyes opening, dark and wide. Heeseung looks at his hand, slick with spit, and then he looks at you. His mouth curves. "Liked the show didn't you," he says, his voice low teasing.

Before Jake lets his thoughts consume him he moves over you. His body covers yours, his arms bracketing your head, his hips settling between your legs. His face is wet, his lips swollen, his eyes dark. "You okay?" he asks. His voice is soft, checking. You pull him down, kiss him. You can taste yourself on his lips, taste Heeseung on your own. "Fuck me Jake." He pushes inside you. You're so wet that he slides in easily, and you both moan at the feeling of it him filling you, you clenching around him. He moves slow at first, his hips rocking against yours, his mouth on your neck. "You're so tight," he groans. "So fucking tight."

Heeseung is beside you. His hands find your breasts, playing with your nipples, pinching, rolling, sending sparks of pleasure through your overstimulated body. His mouth finds your ear. "You like that? You like him inside you while I touch you?" "Mmm fuck yeahh." He pinches harder. Your hips buck. Jake groans. Heeseung's hand slides down your stomach, finds your clit. He presses, circles, works you while Jake fucks you, and it's too much, not enough, everything. "I'm close," Jake gasps. "I'm going to-" "Not yet." Heeseung's voice is sharp. "She cums first." Making Jake groan. He presses harder on your clit. His fingers circle faster. Jake's hips drive into you, faster now, losing control, and you can feel yourself climbing, feel the pressure building, feel the edge approaching. "Come on," Heeseung says. "Cum for him. Let him feel you."

You break. Your body clenches around Jake, your hands grip his shoulders, your voice breaks on his name. He follows a moment later, his face buried in your neck, his hips stuttering against yours, his body shuddering. He collapses beside you. His chest heaves. His skin is slick with sweat.

But Heeseung isn't done. He rolls you onto your stomach, pulls your hips up. You feel him behind you, his cock pressing against your entrance, already hard again. "She's done," Jake says. His voice is concerned. "She needs a break." Heeseung looks at you. "You're my good girl you take whatever I give you, right?" You nod your head. Your voice is hoarse. "I want- I need- you- more- give me please." He pushes inside you. You cry out. You're oversensitive, raw, and every nerve is on fire. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady, and he fucks you hard, fast, the way he fucks when he's lost control.

Your body arches. Your hands claw at anything you can get a hold of. He's thick, stretching you, filling you, and the pressure of him inside you makes your eyes roll back. He doesn't wait. He doesn't give you time to adjust. He moves hard, fast, his hips driving into you, his mouth on your neck, his hands gripping your thighs. The sound of it fills the room. Skin slapping against skin. The bed frame hitting the wall. Your moans, his grunts, the wet sounds of him moving inside you. He fucks you like he's been waiting for this, like he's been holding back for years, like every night he spent watching you with Jake is being driven out of him with every thrust. "You feel that?" he says. "You feel how good you are? How perfect you are for this?" Your hands fist the sheets. Your body is shaking, your mind blank, your mouth open. You can't form words. You can only feel.

He reaches around, finds your clit. You sob. It's too much. You can't take it. But he doesn't stop. His fingers work you, his hips drive into you, and the pleasure is so intense it hurts, burns, consumes you. "I can't," you gasp. "I can't, I can't-" "You can." His voice is hard. "You're going to cum for me. You're going to cum so hard you forget your own name." Jake moves closer. His hand finds yours, holds it. His other hand cups your face, turns you toward him. "I've got you," he says. "We've got you." Heeseung's fingers press harder. His hips drive deeper. "Cum on my cock. Show me who you belong to." Was your final straw leading the pressure inside you to break.

You scream and chant both of there names like a mantra. Your body convulses, your vision whites out, and you feel yourself gush around him, soaking the sheets and soaking him your body releasing everything. Heeseung groans, his hips slamming into you one last time, and you feel him cum inside filling u up, the heat of him, the way his body shakes. He pulls out. You collapse onto the bed. Your face is wet. You're not sure if it's tears or spit or cum. You can't move. You can't think. You can only lie there, trembling, while they clean you up. Jake's hands are gentle, wiping your face, your chest, your thighs. Heeseung brings a towel, warm water, cleans the mess between your legs. They turn you over, lift you, change the sheets while you lie there, too spent to help. When they're done, they pull you between them. Jake's arm wraps around your waist. Heeseung's chest is warm against your back. "Too much?" Jake asks. You shake your head. Your voice is barely a whisper. "Perfect." Heeseung presses a kiss to your shoulder. "You did so good baby." Your eyes close. Their hands are on you, gentle now, soothing. Jake's fingers trace patterns on your hip. Heeseung's breath evens out against your neck. The last thing you feel is their arms tightening around you, holding you together as you drift.

The next week is strange. You see them both around campus, but you don't seek them out. You don't text. You don't call, allowing yourself to form your thoughts. You let the days pass, let yourself exist in the space between what happened and what comes next.

Heeseung shows up at your apartment on a random Wednesday. "Can I come in?" he asks. You step aside. He sits on your couch. You sit across from him. The space between you feels like miles. "It started as a bet," he says. "Freshman year. We were drunk. Jay made a joke. It was supposed to be stupid. Something we'd forget about by the next day." You don't say anything. "But then I saw you at the library. You were sitting by the window, and you looked up when I walked in, and you-" He stops. Swallows. "You smiled at me. Like you knew me. Like you'd been waiting for me. And I forgot there was ever a bet."

You look at him. "You never told me." "I was scared." His voice cracks. "I was scared that if you knew how it started, you'd never believe how it ended. I was scared you'd look at me and only see the stupid kid who made a bet, not the person who fell in love with you." He moves to kneel in front of you, his hands finding yours. His fingers are cold, trembling. "I love you," he says. "I've loved you since the first time I saw you. And I've spent four years trying to be someone worth loving back. I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you. But the bet was never real. Not after the first week. Not after I knew you."

"I love you too," you say. "But I don't know if that's enough." He closes his eyes. His hands tighten around yours. "I'm leaving, I got scouted to play in the major leagues" he says. "At the end of the summer. I'm moving across the country. And I'm not going to ask you to wait." He looks up at you. "I think- I think I need to start over. Somewhere new. Somewhere I'm not the person who made a bet. Somewhere I'm just me." Your throat tightens. "Heeseung-" "I'm not saying goodbye." His voice is rough. "I'm not saying this is the end. But I need to go. I need to figure out who I am when I'm not chasing you. When I'm not waiting. When I'm not hoping."

You don't know what to say. Your chest is too full, your throat too tight. He stands up. He pulls you with him. His hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. "If it's meant to be," he says, "I'll find my way back. And if it's not-" He stops. Swallows. "If it's not, I need you to know that you were the best thing that ever happened to me. And I'm sorry I was too scared to tell you sooner." He kisses you. Soft. Slow. The way he kissed you in the locker room. He pulls back. He looks at you one more time. And then he walks out the door.

You stand there for a long time after he leaves. Your face is wet. Your hands are shaking. You don't know how long you stand there, in the middle of your apartment, the door closed, the silence pressing in. Your phone buzzes. You don't look at it. It buzzes again. You pick it up. Jake: Can we talk? You stare at the message. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Come over.

He's at your door in fifteen minutes. He doesn't sit. He stands in the middle of your living room, his hands at his sides, his face open in a way you've never seen. "You know about the bet," he says. You nod. "I should have told you. I should have told you a hundred times. But I was scared. I was scared you'd walk away. I was scared you'd look at me the way you're looking at me now." You don't say anything. You let him talk. "It started as a joke. A stupid, immature joke. And I spent four years trying to make up for it. Trying to be someone worth choosing." He looks at you. "I love you a lot. I've loved you since the first time I saw you. And I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But that bet was never real. Not after I knew you."

"I know," you say. He stares at you. "You know?" "I know it wasn't real. I know it stopped being a bet a long time ago." You step closer. "I'm still angry. I'm still hurt. But I know." His face crumples. His hands find yours, his fingers cold, trembling. "I thought I lost you." "You didn't lose me." "I thought you were going to choose him. Heeseung. I thought-" His voice breaks. You reach up, your hand cupping his face. "I need time. I need to figure out who I am when I'm not being chased. When I'm not being fought over." He nods. His eyes are wet. "I'll wait. I've been waiting for four years. I can wait a little longer." You pull him into your arms. He holds you like he's never letting go. "I love you," he says against your hair. "I've always loved you." You close your eyes. His arms are warm around you, his heart beating against your chest, his breath steady in your ear. "I love you too," you say.

He pulls back, looks at you. "So that means-" "It means I'm not going anywhere. It means I'm going to take some time to figure out what I want. And when I'm ready-" You stop. Look at him. "When I'm ready, I want it to be you." He kisses you. Soft. Gentle. The way he's always been. When he pulls back, he's smiling. It's the smile that's been yours since the beginning.

Graduation comes faster than you expect. The ceremony is long and hot, the speeches predictable, the crowd a sea of caps and gowns. Yunjin cries during the address. Sakura pretends she isn't crying too. Chae takes approximately seven thousand photos. Jake is in the row ahead of you. He turns around when your name is called, his smile wide, his eyes bright. You walk across the stage, diploma in hand, and when you sit back down, his hand finds yours.

After the ceremony, everyone gathers on the lawn outside the auditorium. The whole group is there, Yunjin with her arm looped through Jay's, Sakura and Chae are taking photos with Sunoo. Sunghoon is trying to get everyone organized for a group picture, which is proving impossible. Jungwon is laughing at something Ni-ki said. Heeseung is standing with his family nearby, his cap already off, his gown unzipped. You find him after a moment. He sees you coming and excuses himself from his parents. "Congratulations," you say. "You too." He shrugs. "I just threw a ball through a hoop. You, on the other hand, did something impressive." You laugh. "You're ridiculous." "You've mentioned that."

Jake appears beside you. His hand finds your waist. Heeseung looks at him, and for a moment, neither of them says anything. Then Heeseung smiles. "Take care of her." "I plan to." "She's stubborn. She doesn't eat when she's stressed. She pretends she's fine when she's not. You have to watch for that." Jake nods. "I know." Heeseung looks at you. "And you stop pretending you have it all figured out. No one does. That's the secret." You laugh, and it's real, and it hurts, and it's exactly what you needed. "I'm going to miss you," you say. "I'm going to miss you too." He pulls you into a hug, quick and tight. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are wet. "Don't let him be boring. He has a tendency." Jake rolls his eyes. "I'm standing right here." "I know." Heeseung grins. "That's the point."

They look at each other. Four years of competition, of wanting, of waiting. And now, this. "When you're on TV," Jake says, "I'm going to tell everyone I knew you before you were famous." "I'm going to deny it." "I'm going to ask you for money." "I'm going to block your number." They laugh. You laugh too. And for a moment, it feels like everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be.

Sunghoon finally gets everyone organized for a group photo. The whole crew gathers on the steps of the auditorium. Yunjin and Jay, Sakura and Chae, Sunoo and Sunghoon, Jungwon and Ni-ki, you and Jake, and Heeseung, who's stayed even though he already took photos with his family. "Everyone squeeze in," Sunghoon calls, setting up his phone on a tripod. "Ni-ki, stop messing with Jungwon." "I'm just fixing his shirt god fricking forbid." "You're messing it up." The timer counts down. Three. Two. One. The photo captures everyone mid-laugh, mid-argument, mid-moment. It's messy and imperfect and exactly right.

After the photo, people start to drift. Sunghoon is already planning the after party. Yunjin is dragging Jay toward the parking lot. Sakura and Chae are arguing about where to go for food. Sunoo is trying to get everyone's drink orders. You're standing with Jake and Heeseung, the three of you off to the side, watching the chaos. "One more," someone says. You turn. It's Jungwon, holding up his phone. "One more photo. For old times." You laugh. You pull Jake closer. Heeseung steps in on your other side. Jungwon lifts his phone, and Ni-ki appears beside him, leaning into the frame. "Three, two-"

"Wait," Ni-ki says. He's not looking at the camera. He's looking across the lawn, at a girl standing near the fountain, holding what looked like her brother's cap while taking pictures for him. "Who's that?" Jungwon follows his gaze. His phone lowers. "I don't know. I've never seen her before." "Me neither." Ni-ki tilts his head. "She's cute." Jungwon looks at her. "She's really cute." They stand there for a moment, both of them watching her, both of them forgetting about the photo.

Jay appears beside them, Sunghoon trailing behind. "What are you two staring at?" Ni-ki nods toward the girl. "Her." Jay looks. He looks at Sunghoon. Sunghoon looks at Jay. A slow grin spreads across Jay's face. "Oh no," Sunghoon says. "What?" Jungwon looks between them. "What is it?" "Nothing." Jay's grin widens. "I've just seen this before." Sunghoon shakes his head, laughing. "Not again." "Not again what?" Ni-ki asks.

Jay puts an arm around each of them. "Let me tell you a story. About a bet. About two guys who thought they knew what they wanted. About four years of chasing and fighting and messing everything up." Jungwon and Ni-ki look at each other. They look at the girl by the fountain. "Here's the thing," Jay says. "That bet? Neither of them won. Not really. But they both ended up exactly where they were supposed to be." Ni-ki looks at the girl again. She's laughing at something, her head thrown back, now posing for pictures. "So what you're saying is-" "I'm saying be careful." Jay's voice is lighter now, teasing. "That girl? She might be trouble." Jungwon grins. "We like trouble." Sunghoon groans. "Oh my gosh here we go again."

They're still talking when you turn away, your hand in Jake's, Heeseung walking beside you. The afternoon sun is warm, the campus spread out before you, the future waiting somewhere beyond the gates. "You think they'll figure it out?" Heeseung asks, nodding toward the younger boys. You look back. Jungwon and Ni-ki are already walking toward the fountain, already finding their way toward something new. "I think," you say, "they're about to find out." Jake squeezes your hand. "Let's go home." You walk together, the three of you, out of the campus, out of the years you've spent here, into whatever comes next.

———————————-

Germany. 

It feels like a movie when you arrive and get off of the train. Smoke blows around, different accents sing through the air, and your breath visibly shudders in front of your face.

Heeseung’s cheeks deepen with color, he insists on carrying your bags. He knows you’re still in some state of shock, too stunned by everything that has unraveled in the last 48 hours.

“The hotel my dad booked us isn’t too far from here, I’ll order a cab for us.” He nods, directing you to follow him.

Innate instinct takes over, it’s time for him to be a man. To embody the role his father has the past few years of his life. He needs to serve and protect you now, because would you really be running off if not for him? Is he not partially to be blamed for drastically altering your life?

“We’ll only be here for a couple of weeks, then we can head back to France if you want. My dad said he’d cover everything.” Heeseung is really trying to make this as easy as possible for you. Maybe he’s feeling more guilty than he anticipated, especially after seeing your solemn expression.

“Yesterday was so fucked up.” You barely mutter, throwing yourself onto the hotel bed. “Can’t believe I did that.”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” In fact, he’d prefer not to… 

“I feel like such an awful person right now.”

You shouldn’t, given Sunghoon’s track record but this isn’t you. You would never go out of your way to use your body to manipulate and hurt someone this way..

“Don’t worry about it, alright? You don’t need to worry about me forgiving you. It’s like it never happened.” Heeseung grabs a hold of your hand, smiling softly. “Today’s a new day.”

Worry about forgiveness? Forgiveness for what. You contemplate asking, opening your mouth only to receive a gentle kiss. His lips pressed to yours with a tinge of fear. He’s afraid, probably as scared as you are.

“We need to talk Hee,” you shove at his shoulder, sitting back up. “About your mom, Jian, even Miyeon.. I don’t know, I feel so unsettled.”

“Whatever you want to know, I’m an open book for you.”

And you talked, for hours and hours. Ordered room service as you paced around the hotel room and delved deeper into his life. Picking up the small hints and marks of Sunghoon scattered throughout each memory and story. Late into the night you wore each other down to an empty bottle once full of emotions.

Heeseung cried, told you everything. How his mother offered him his first drink. He fought tooth and nail to make her stay home, to stop entering the local bars and waste her life away. She was never the same after the divorce, never explaining to him why or how it happened. She couldn’t after some time, couldn’t speak more than slurred speech, could barely keep her eyes open for longer than a few hours.

“My brother was jealous of that.” He nods, interlocking his fingers. “He has no idea that I was living through my own personal hell. I was living with a fragment of who my mother once was, by the end.. that wasn’t her. She would call me by my dad’s name a lot, yell at me, throw all types of insults at me.”

The more you listened, the more your heart broke. Sunghoon had no one, and Heeseung didn’t either. They could have at least had each other..

“My grandparents were too old, tired. Grandma was showing signs of early dementia and grandpa could hardly walk without hurting himself.” Heavy pain laces his tone, blinking back tears without looking at you. Not wanting to see the pity or hurt on your face for him. “Mom died in my arms, at the hospital. I didn’t want it to be real, sometimes the memory hits me out of nowhere and I feel so empty. I feel as useless as my dad says I am.”

There’s nothing to be said after he spills his soul wide open for you. Everything makes sense, the jealousy between him and Sunghoon. The unspoken truth that neither of them could even begin to see past their blind hatred for each other. 

“He’s right, I should have done more.” Heeseung trembles, failing to fight his tears any longer. They roll down to his chin, shaking off with the chatter of his teeth. “I should have helped her somehow.”

“You were a kid.” You try to help, knowing this is above your capabilities. You hold him, clean his tears, scratch through his scalp, and he lets it all out. Every fear, every thought that plagues hik, the root of his pain that started the day his parents tore apart their family. 

“I wanted to be above this, try to have a normal life when I moved back home to live with my dad.” He sighs, sinking deeper into your hold. “He hates me. Maybe I remind him too much of her.”

Even the richest of rich shouldn’t always have kids, even if they are more than able to afford to. Mr. Park clearly had a detachment from his sons, most especially Heeseung..

“I told you, he wanted me to ask Miyeon out first. I don’t know why Sunghoon took that bullet for me. I kind of hoped that it was because he doesn’t hate me, but after this..”

“I think if he knew everything, he would have never put you through all of this again Hee. Not that he deserves an excuse, but I want to believe your brother isn’t actually as evil as he wants us to perceive.”

“I hope he’s not.” Heeseung stares off into the void, sniffling. “If only because I still feel bad, that he grew up without us. Especially after living with my dad again, he’s such an emotionless prick.. it’s no wonder my brother always made fun of me when I’d cry. Moving back home without my mom was hard for me. I felt like a stranger in my own house, as if I didn’t belong there.”

Nothing can excuse Sunghoon’s behavior and actions of course, even if you questioned everyday what his experience was living alone with Mr. Park throughout his primitive years. How did all of that time without a motherly figure alter his life? The way he thinks? That stone cold heart of his you’d come to know. 

How could the two of them be so different and yet the same. Heeseung who handled his feelings by expressing his emotion and pain, never scared to shed a tear. Who would lay his head on your lap and kindly ask you to hold him, to stroke his hair the way his mother used to. Who walks around with the open wound in his heart proudly displayed.

Sunghoon, for the little amount of time you had him in your life, he couldn’t do the same. Couldn’t bring himself to open up, to tell you how he really feels. He held back, masked his feelings with anger and harshness; a shield, really. He needed someone to be there for him, to help him understand himself..

And as you lived your life and settle into your loft in Paris, you slowly let those thoughts get to you. Each day he crossed your mind, and you shoved those thoughts down deeper, kicking dirt over the growing pile to keep them buried alive. You could not feel guilty nor sorry for him, or you’d break.

Many nights came and went by staring at his name in your list of contacts, blocked by his brother the day you got on a train to get away from him. You knew that reaching out to him would only lead to your demise, because maybe when Heeseung kisses you, you shut your eyes and can taste Sunghoon’s lips.

Maybe you have to bite down on your tongue to not moan his name. Maybe when you’re extra tired, you swear that your boyfriend resembles him too much, that you can almost picture him being the one walking through the front door of your loft. 

Maybe you can’t stop yourself from imagining the other side of the coin, how everything could have gone if you had given Sunghoon a chance.

And despite how perfect your relationship has been, you can’t ward away those curiosities. Can’t fight your mind when you shut your eyes and begin to count the different beauty marks dotted around Sunghoon’s face. 

You try to ignore those thoughts, to replace them with only new memories of Heeseung, but maybe you give up one day.

Maybe you allow the fantasy of what could have been to infiltrate your head, and maybe you enjoy it more than you are willing to admit.

———————————-

~one year later~

Three hundred and sixty-five days to be exact. But who’s keeping count? 

Sunghoon is. He bought a physical calendar at the airport before flying back home with your mother and father. 

That flight had really been excruciating for him. The one upside is that the seats next to him were originally reserved for you and his brother. He could at least wallow in his misery alone. 

And he did, for a few hours at first. The long flight home spanned for over half of a day and time ticked by more slowly than usual. He tried to read, paid for the wifi to use and distracted himself with some games, browsed through the movies the airline had to offer. Nothing could stop his mind from racing, stuck in the idea of you.

Because that’s all this was right? The idea of you.

That idea that you could fix him, because maybe that’s what he wants. He wants to be fixed. Sunghoon knows all of his social problems, his dad didn’t pay for an overpriced therapist for nothing. After the divorce, he hadn’t handled the situation so great. 

Mr. Park had never wanted to be a father, he was very successful straight out of university after earning his degree rather fast thanks to his own father’s name. Generational wealth had done its due diligence to breeze him through the educational system. The last thing he wanted was to share the money consistently expanding in his bank account with children and a wife. Not when he was having a blast playboying around from country to country on private jets, schmoozed and bribed with free luxury alcohol, grand dining experiences only ever allowed for the wealthy and famous.

His father, Sunghoon’s grandfather, had other plans in mind for him. That's where his mother came in. She was an intern at his grandfather’s company, a girl with a squeaky clean reputation. He set them up on a date, insisting that his son lock in a wife before he cut him out of his will. Growing tired and furious with each new headline of his son out and about partying with celebrities.

It was time for him to get serious. That's business, investors would take him more seriously as a family man as opposed to some messy international playboy. 

So, he got married. 

Was he in love? No, absolutely not. But then along came the birth of first son Heeseung and he had no choice but to accept his title as a wed father. This was his new life.

A miserable life of work, countless business trips, screaming baby cries keeping him up all throughout the night, and a nagging wife constantly accusing him of cheating. 

Things were bleak compared to his world only a year prior, and then Sunghoon came along and everything only seemed to grow worse with time.

The boys—his boys, had no way of knowing and understanding their parents' unhappy marriage. They were given every toy, playset, console, and every shiny new expensive device on the market without question. 

Sunghoon had always been closer to his mother given his father’s packed schedule. He loved her, always lit up and giggled when she’d pick him up from school and ask about his day. He can still remember the scent of her perfume, soft and sweet like a batch of fresh cookies. Her loving hands would pinch his cheeks, hoist him up onto her hip until he became too large to do so.

They’d chat for hours into the evening after school, all about his day, what activities he did in class. Any new friends he made, helping him to complete his homework. Heeseung would usually whine for dinner first, rubbing his stomach with big eyes directed at their mother. She really really never failed to show them how much she loved them both.

That’s what hurt and confused him the most for years after the last time he saw her. His father dragged him away from her at the airport, and he kicked, he screamed, he cried and threw a tantrum. 

‘That is enough Sunghoon.’ His dad said to him firmly, gripping his shoulders and standing him back onto his feet. ‘No son of mine will embarrass this way.’

He was a kid, not even a teenager yet. Dealing with an explosion of raging hormones while losing his mom and brother. None of it seemed fair, and he cried, he cried for months, for over a year. Screamed at by his father in return, the only parent he had left to care for him. He would throw money at Sunghoon, tell him to wipe his face and go buy himself something to cheer up. That was always his answer to dealing with his overly emotional distressed son.

He tried to keep in touch with Heeseung, but his dad forbade it. Didn’t want him to be influenced by his siblings' new life or manipulated by whatever false narratives his mother would be likely to create. 

After a good year of dropping his grades, teachers contacting his father full of concern, and a son that barely opened his mouth to speak, Mr. Park slid a pamphlet across the dinner table.

‘Therapy, son.’ He cleared his throat, setting down his fork to sip his glass of wine. ‘It’s high time you grow up and become a man. No son of mine will enter high school with below average grades. I have expectations of you.’

Therapy. That was his father’s next plan to fix his broken heart. To grant him emotional relief of all his pain. 

It helped, at first, to understand why he feels what he feels. Why he acts out the way he does, why he hurts so deeply, why he can’t fathom having hope.

It worked until it didn’t. 

Maybe Sunghoon had reached a certain point of maturity that snapped his mind out of his misery. Maybe he never let it go, maybe it became a part of him. One with his misery, embracing it and not allowing it to ruin his life anymore.

‘I don’t think I need this anymore.’ He told his therapist after two years with a thin smile on his face. 

He tried to talk him out of canceling his future sessions, tried to explain that this was more beneficial for him than he realized but Sunghoon had opted for another form of therapy. 

Years of being spoiled instead of nurtured and loved by his parents led him to sports. He took up weight training. Started to see his arms build muscle, the lines in his stomach grow deeper, his stamina strengthened. 

His depressed thoughts lessened by the dayc more focused on how built and lean he could get. Visiting a trainer and nutritionist to change up his diet to nothing but protein to make him stronger, bigger, more intimidating.

His dad couldn’t call him weak anymore. In fact, Sunghoon hasn’t cried a day ever since he cut off his therapist. That damn croc of shit tried to get him on a prozac prescription, often spoke of stronger antidepressants.

He didn’t need any of that bullshit.

No.

Sunghoon knows exactly what he needs. 

Three hundred and sixty-five days and he hasn’t missed one gym session. It’s the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. Craves the burn in his muscle, the pain and soreness he experiences after. He needs to lick off the sweat that lines his upper lip, shake off any before it can reach his eyes and clump his dark eyelashes together. 

He’s been working out like a maniac ever since that fucking family vacation. Spending countless hours in the basement gym his father and your mom never step foot inside of. They’re hardly ever home anyway, too busy frolicking around traveling the world in luxury.

He can’t complain, except for days such as today when he enters the kitchen to make himself a protein shake and his step-mother beams the largest smile at him.

“Sunghoon! Come say hi!”

“Oh mom, no please, I really have to go. I’ll be late for class!” The line cuts immediately after before he can even answer your mother.

It’s always the same, you always have to go. You’re busy, your connections bad, you have plans with Heeseung. 

“Aw shoot.” Your mom sighs, closing her ipad. “Next time.” She gives him a wary smile on her way out of the kitchen. 

There is no next time, you’ve successfully avoided him for a fucking year now. His brother never contacts him, the texts he tried to send you bounce back, his phone calls never go through. He tried at first to contact you somehow, emails, embarrassing phone calls attempted in the middle of the night when he knew you’d be awake given the time difference. Even fucking carrier pigeon would be a useless option.

You obviously want nothing to do with him. Both of your parents are too oblivious to understand the amount of effort his own fucking brother has made to avoid speaking with him. How neither if you ever ask about him, how he’s been, if he’s healthy.

Sometimes it hurts when he allows his mind to drift deep enough into those thoughts. That’s when he really takes it out on the gym punching bag. Lunging his shoulder so hard into it one day that he had to wear a sling for the rest of the week. 

It’s times like this he wishes he could be anywhere but here. That he could get away and go back to a safe place that felt more like home than whatever this bullshit is. Days like this stir up old memories of his mother, how she would cradle him and read him bedtime stories. How she carefully held his hand while grocery shopping even though she had to bend at her waist to do so and strain her back.

How he never got to say goodbye to her. Has never even visited her grave. He never got answers, how could she so easily abandon one of her kids. Maybe she never loved him..

And now he asks himself different questions, about another woman he thought, perhaps even hoped, could love him. Was he a fool to believe that you might actually have feelings for him? Fuck if you didn’t play with his emotions and mess with his head enough.

He let you, he let you dog walk him like a fucking idiot. It hurts of course, especially when he’s laid in bed and can’t sleep a wink even after tiring himself out with some midnight cardio. He stares at the ceiling, ponders the time he spent with you. How much you changed and unraveled right before his eyes.

It’s not that he wants to have feelings for you. The truth is, he gave his father an ultimatum for the first time in his life. He’d finish school, collect his degree, and run whatever fucking sector his dad needed his face plastered across as the CEO. Young Sunghoon Park, the next generation of power. 

But he did not want to continue his fraudulent relationship with Miyeon any longer, he refused to fall down that same path his dad had. To grow old with someone who only stayed with him by force. 

Needless to say his father was disappointed, of course. The old man reprimanded him and argued about what a waste of time it’s been to build a relationship with Miyeon’s father to merge their companies. The real end goal was really to take down his competitors and buy them out, not merge shit. Sunghoon held his guard, he relented and stuck to his word.

He’d be his father’s working bitch, work harder than any asshole that graduated from Harvard and Yale, but the decision of his future wife would be his own. The one thing his dad could no longer have control over- the mother of his children, his partner, the woman he’d walk down the aisle towards.

He hadn’t thought too deeply on the matter until you came into his life and turned his world upside down. 

He never felt an emotional tie to Miyeon even when they began dating. They tried at first, too young to comprehend why they were being made to meet up at Dave N Busters with limitless funds to play games all night and order as many fries as they could manage to eat. She had let him know real quick that he simply wasn’t her type.

‘Pretty boys like you do nothing for me.’ 

And if he was being honest, she didn’t quite spark his desires despite her good looks and charm. They got along better as friends and made a pact to continue on with their relationship to keep their parents equally satisfied.

‘My father keeps dragging me to these business ventures to meet his colleagues' sons. I need my weekends back.’

Their agreement worked out great for both of them. Sunghoon would use those alleged dates with Miyeon to hit up parties and clubs. He started to gain a reputation around campus for having a great body and an insatiable need to fuck like a beast. With his dad remaining none the wiser to his weekend escapades, he felt as if life couldn’t get any better.

And then you came along. You showed up and gummed up the works. 

It’s hard to say if Heeseung really saw you first, not that he can stake claim off a look.. but Sunghoon knows that he wanted you first. It’s possible he had only planned to add you to the enormous growing list of girls he had conquered in just the past year. Maybe he just wanted to fuck you to say that he did. To soothe his raging ego with the knowledge that he can and will always get what he wants.

It was too easy really, you needed a tutor. And if Sunghoon knew how to do anything, it’s to pass a class with the highest scores and grades. He wasn’t valedictorian for nothing. Years of his father talking down to him about failing Physical Education of all classes after the split with his mother never allowed him to hit that low again. He studied and worked his ass off day and night to earn better grades, to be the teacher's favorite, to get a spot on the dean’s list.

Sunghoon hadn’t planned to keep fucking you. A few times maybe, for fun, to piss his dad off even if he never found out. But when he heard you inside of Heeseung’s bedroom..

When he saw the way the two of you looked at each other. When his older brother swept you away and off your feet cosplaying as some fucking humble prince to help you escape from an awkward first meeting with Miyeon; that—that pissed Sunghoon off.

Not Heeseung who also forgot about him for years, who got to live with the one parent they had that could give a fuck about either of them. That likely came home after school to home cooked meals. He’s sure their mother still brushed his hair even as a teenager. Still woke up the house on Sunday mornings loudly singing along to her favorite songs as a teenager. That motherfucker really had the audacity to portray himself as a saint in front of you.

And that truly made his blood boil. For a moment, no more than a few seconds.. he felt a tinge of jealousy.

Not only did Heeseung get to have their mother’s love in the end, but he was also going to have you.

Call him a monster for reacting the way that he did, but seeing his brother happy for the first time since he’d moved back in with their father; that made his blood pressure spike. 

Why should Heeseung have it so fucking easy?! Why does everything work out for him?? Sunghoon’s sick of it, he’s been sick of that waste of space moping around the house. Taking up time in the living room playing his stupid fucking video games, never even bothering to ask him if he’d want to join him.

Not that he would, never wanting to hold a conversation with that moron he’s forced to call his sibling. His feelings may have been superficial, greedy and childish.. at first, but maybe that’s why he never fucked a random hook-up more than a handful of times. He never permitted himself to grow attached, to release those emotions that could weaken him. He tried so hard to protect the vulnerable shattered boy that grew without love, that he nearly forgot he even once existed.

That’s why this has hurt more than anything he’s felt in years. Because he hasn’t been able to feel. He hasn’t poured anything from his cup in so long that just one splash spilling out was enough to leave him empty.

He finds himself alone in the gym again. Glancing around at everything he’s left in place. The way his equipment shines thanks to the maids that clean up around here. How his mini-fridge stays stocked with energy drinks and electrolytes without him being required to lift a finger.

Easy. Such an easy life. Why would he ever want to leave this? Why would anyone.

Would you have ran off to Germany if not for him? Would you have stayed with Heeseung all of this time if he had just let you be? Thousands of questions with no answer swarm his thoughts when he zones out deep enough. A good vigorous workout can typically cure that, grunting through the burning pain that shoots up his back and arms. 

Sweat pours and he twists side to side to spray the droplets away from his eyes. Too fearful of ever catching himself in the mirror again with any type of wetness rimmed so close to his iris. The one time he did had him dropping to his knees, scrubbing a small towel at his face until his skin turned an angry red and not one bit of sweat remained.

Crying is for weak little bitches like his older brother. Always crying to get his way instead of putting up a fight.

Hearing your voice today for only a few seconds, the line beeping when you ended the call.. the thought wrinkles his eyebrows, burns inside of his nostrils. Twitching his nose to make that feeling go away, that hallowing in his chest. Not even a year apart had softened you? These days of nothing, you weren’t at all curious?

Pain. Pain squeezed at his lungs. Subsiding it as over exerting himself by lifting weights that are too heavy. He drops them abruptly and goes to chug water. Dragging a towel across his forehead, leaving his hair sticking up in different directions. 

Heartless, a heartless girl with no compassion. Unless his brother had really manipulated you to act this way.. he had his suspicions. That Heeseung had fucked you up as much as himself.. took advantage of the sweet soul he’d come to know. Refusing to believe that what you shared had meant nothing..

It certainly hadn’t meant nothing to Sunghoon. He tried to fuck other girls, even went on dates and forced a smile on his face through each boring one. He couldn’t forget you, everything around him led back to the memory of you.

Perhaps even who he wanted you to be for him.. and time and time again he failed to convince himself that this was your choice. That you chose his brother..

There was just no way.

Sunghoon came to workout to get away from his mind. To shut you off for an hour or so. He can’t deal with this right now. Why did you mom have to be on a video call with you right now?!

Stomping over to the ipad, he scrolls through different playlists in search of something to blast the echo of your voice away. Something obnoxiously loud to drown out his mind.

He should have hit shuffle and gone back to his reps. The universe couldn’t taunt him any harder as your name shows up in bold letters on the screen, recommending him a playlist you must have saved on here when you’d use his gym.

He would have deleted it by now if he had noticed, and he should. He should tap the screen to remove your shitty playlist for good. But he doesn’t, he hits play instead and the room floods with your screamy tortured emo crap. This woe is me wah wah wah music that you and his brother bonded over. Teenage angst at it’s finest as some grown man wails through his sound system and his hands fall limp to his sides. It’s the same shit he’d hear coming from your now unlived in bedroom. The muffled guitar from your headphones. 

Why didn’t he just hit delete? Now he can’t stop his nostrils from flaring, his teeth gritting together, the tremble running down his forearms to his hands.

It’s been so long since Sunghoon last shed a tear. It happened last on that flight while he sat alone, about six hours up in the air. He put on some cheesy romcom movie to watch, fully expecting to fall asleep 10-15 minutes in. He should have chosen something else, of course he landed on some ridiculous movie with a love triangle plot.

‘I like you just the way you are.’

Sunghoon had to hit pause, fighting the tears filling up his eyes as he struggled to not blink. If he blinks, the one singular tear dangling near the corner will spill down his cheek. He’ll have shed an actual fucking tear. 

Stupid fucking Bridget Jones Diary, he’ll never watch this crap again! Instead he shut off the movie and dabbed away the tear that managed to get past his cold will. No one saw that happen anyway, only he has to know that some sappy romance film brought him to tears.

That won’t happen again. Except that when he landed and finally got home, took a shower and laid in bed; he couldn’t stop thinking about that dumb movie. Who did Bridget fucking pick?!? She couldn’t have chosen that asshole Daniel Cleaver..

Not after Mark Darcy told her he liked her embarrassing ass just the way she is. He threw a fit that night learning that there was 3 Goddamn movies he’d have to get through to find out who this woman ends up with. Not a wink of sleep was had that night as he sat at his computer and found streams of each one go watch in order from start to end.

Sunghoon.. Sunghoon couldn’t stop repeating that line. 

‘I like you just the way you are.’ What a load of shit..

Maybe his heart tightened and his pulse slowed down for a minute, everything on the plane went still, his ears popped, and he felt something he didn’t believe to be possible..

Love.

This has to be why girls watch this crap.. 

What he would give up to be liked just the way he is. That’s how you made him feel, accepted. You saw his darkness and still let him in. That cut him deeper than anything. Losing you to his brother hardly mattered compared to the thought that you accepted him, you liked him for exactly who he is without needing change..

“Stupid stupid stupid.” He slaps at his skull, crouching down by the speaker to tuck his chest into his knees and take shallow breaths. He chose to ignore these panic attacks and nights without sleep, lying to himself that he’s fine. He’s completely fine. That these unanswered questions and intrusive thoughts don’t consume him. That he doesn’t scream in the shower and punch at the tile out of anger, frustration and deep pain that he continues to shove down.

Taking a few minutes to shut off his kind and recuperate himself, he drags his weight up by gripping onto the speaker stand. Slamming his palm down to power off the machine before anymore of your playlist can shake the gym walls and stab the knife lodged in his chest even deeper.

He limps slowly to sit properly, patting around his sweats for his phone. Taking another minute to catch his breath he unlocks the device and searches through his contacts to make a phone call.

“Hello?”

“Yeah.” He licks at his dried lips, rubbing his chest to help his breathing return to normal.

“Sunghoon? What’s going on?”

“Miyeon, I need to see you.”

———————————-

“You look like shit.” 

“Thanks.” Sunghoon opens the front door wide for Miyeon, ushering her in toward the living room. His parents aren’t home meaning he won’t have to deal with his father’s pestering questions or wishes of them getting back together. That’s not why she’s here.

Miyeon’s as pretty as ever, her hair shines and bounces as she walks. The scent of sweet cotton candy trails behind her, and her mini-skirt flicks up with each step she takes ahead of him. She’s beautiful, she always has been, and still he feels nothing for her.

“Alright, what was so urgent that you needed me to weasel my way out of the annual tennis finals at the country club? My dad’s not happy.” She huffs, smirking and rolling her eyes. “Not that I’ve loved spending my summer paraded around a bunch of rich spoiled frat boys.”

“How’s your boyfriend?” Sunghoon asks, sitting down next to her.

“Sad, he misses me.” She pouts. “I miss him more.”

“And when will you tell your father about him?”

Miyeon’s lips tighten, hiding a grin. “When will you tell your father that you left me for your step-sister?”

Of course Sunghoon told her, he had to. He had to tell someone and in many ways, Miyeon may be his only friend. It wasn’t easy but he needed someone to understand, to reassure him that he’s not going insane. 

‘You can’t possibly be losing your mind Hoon, you never had it to begin with.’ 

She wasn’t the best of help, but she listened, and she told him that he’s a freak. But a valid freak nonetheless.

“I can’t tell him.” Sunghoon nods, nervously playing with his hands. “Haven’t been on his good side ever since I told him that we broke things off. He’s been on my ass about internships and school. Nepotism must skip a generation.”

“You’re going to inherit his company, don’t be so crass. It’s unbecoming, tarnishing your cold stoic vampiresque image.” She teases, flicking his chin. “You’re definitely a shell of the man I knew. She did a real number on you.”

He hates that she’s right. He knows that his confidence has been rocked, his mind drowned beneath the thoughts he can’t escape. He wouldn’t even know how to keep his guard up anymore to block Miyeon’s sassy jabs. “I guess she did.” 

“What is it, Hoon? You could have anyone. Why did it have to be your step-sister?” She crosses her legs, head tilted to the side observing him. All she needs now is a notepad and pen to tap her chin with. She should study to psychoanalyze, really.

“She could have been anyone.” Sunghoon agrees with that. Step-sister or not, he can’t pinpoint the exact reason you caused him to spiral. “But I like her.”

“Why? What’s so special about her?”

It’s not one thing, but a bit of everything. If he could really take away the superficial and shallow reasonings beyond you being his type physically, sexy and alluring, it would come down to the energy between you. The tension and heat. He often questions if that would fade with time once you stop fighting him. If you would ever stop fighting him even if he was able to call you his.

The back and forth with you really does turn him on not only sexually but emotionally. Awakening feelings he forgot could exist. Even now without contact, with no way to reach you, he feels that pull. He feels taunted and defeated, and it’s pitiful how much he loves it. He loves that between him and his brother, you may have been the victorious one after all.

“Would you judge me if I said I feel a connection to her?” He sighs, slumping into the couch seat. “That sounds stupid, right?”

“Not at all.” Miyeon shifts to look at him, offering a small smile. “Sounds normal. You’re crazy about her because it’s more than sex, if it wasn’t you wouldn’t still be hung up on her. A guy like you doesn’t have it hard, you wouldn’t even know what it is to struggle even if you were slapped across the face with it.”

“I have it hard.” He grumbles, glaring at her. “You know what I’ve been through.”

“No you don’t Hoon.” Miyeon laughs, pointing a finger at him. “You think that because your life hasn’t been perfect, everything hasn’t gone your way, that other people wouldn’t sell their soul to live the way you live? We’re so incredibly out of touch with the real human struggle, our biggest hassle is seeking love.”

“So what? I’m not worthy of love because I’m some fucking wealthy brat?” He snaps, getting angrier by the second.

“We’re all worthy of love. You’re just not used to having to try hard, to earn what you want..” Miyeon reaches for his hand, breaking his rage for a moment. “If you expect love, you have to give love. She’s not your mom, she’s probably just as scared as you are of all of this.”

“She loves my brother just fine.” 

“From what you’ve told me, he loves her too. I didn’t know back then, but the way he rescued her from having dinner with us would have swept me off my feet.” She shrugs, frowning at him. “And do you know where he is now? In Paris, with her. He gave up his life for her.”

“Because he hates me.”

“Or because he loves her.”

Sunghoon’s mouth twitches, he refuses to believe that. Heeseung isn’t capable of loving anyone other than himself, he’s selfish.. 

“And you? You’re here, sitting on a couch talking to me as if I am your therapist.” Miyeon continues, cocking an eyebrow at him. “What’s your excuse?”

“What? I’m supposed to go to Paris and stalk her?!” 

She shrugs, raising her hands and nodding. “How could that be any worse than everything else you have already done to her? Listen,” fully turning to face him, she grabs both of his hands. “You need to talk to her, tell her how you feel.”

“She won’t speak to me.”

“Don’t give her a choice.” Miyeon says, grimacing. “It’s not the best advice but you don’t have time for this anymore. You’ve been moping around for a year still hanging onto old memories of this girl. She may not even be the same person you felt a connection to anymore. Aren’t you tired of not knowing?”

“You think I should go to Paris? Corner her when she’s not with my brother?” A light flickers behind his eyes, staring ahead deep in thought.

“I didn’t say all of that but, you need to do what you need to do.. get your girl or lose her forever.” 

She’s right, isn’t she? How could Sunghoon not realize this on his own? He thought giving you time, that you would come around on your own and realize how much he loves you. That he only did what he did because he wants you. That his brother would never compare to him..  

“Poor girl.” Miyeon mumbles, smacking Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Don’t let your greed to win overshadow what you feel for her. Put her first, for once.”

Maybe he needs more friends, perhaps another opinion could have talked him out of this. His father couldn’t complain when he approached him with the idea of finishing up his company internship(aka bitch work) in France, given that he would be taking over the European sector of his father’s company. 

So he packed his bags with nothing else planned. No place to call home, no thoughts other than finding you. The flight was long and lonely once again, but he made use of his time and brushed up on French, repeating key words and phrases he’d likely use often. 

It was crazy, all of this has been crazy. Miyeon told him to not stress much on his outlandish behavior, it’s not as if falling for your step-sibling sounded normal to begin with.

And maybe, he could fall out of love. He could go on with his life without another thought of you, without another painful grip around his heart. 

At least he hoped for an outcome close to that, of discarding his heartache. Of forgetting your name. But that couldn’t be the case.

No. He sat in the hotel lobby where he’d overheard you had taken on a summer job, and he saw you. He stayed by the corner, in the shadows, pretending to wait for his taxi driver's arrival. He watched you walk through the front doors, and he gasped. His chest caved in, his grip on the chair's arms tightened, and he leaned forward. He watched you move like slow motion, as if you were never real, and his stomach fluttered. 

He knew right then this may never be over.

Maybe it’s for the best that only Miyeon knew of his plan. To lure you up to his suite and get you alone at your place of work. You can’t leave if he does that.. and sure, maybe it’s not the most ethical approach. Maybe it’s invasive and even deplorable, but what choice have you left him? 

Phone number, blocked.

Emails, ignored.

Your living space? Shared with Heeseung. 

How else is he supposed to get to you?

This makes sense, planning out a way to trap you alone in his suite with him. Sneaking up on you, showering you with outrageously expensive gifts, and getting on his knees to purpose.

Now Miyeon had not made that suggestion, but Sunghoon concluded no other statement could make it clear how serious he is about you. How much he wants to prove his love to you, that’s why he hopped off of his flight and immediately rushed to one of the most luxurious reputable jewelers in all of Paris. A fat diamond rock to adorn your finger would be the perfect way to express his love, right? It’s not as if he even knows your ring size, having to take a wild guess and make note to adjust it later if necessary.

Everything about this plan is very *him* if he thinks about it, and you should expect no less from him. He’s eccentric like that, always pulling something ridiculous. He’s sure you recall when he purchased that pearl necklace for you simply because you’d been admiring it. How else would he make a grand comeback into your life?

Maybe he is crazy, or maybe you made him crazy. He smiled as he spoke to you, his palms grew sweatier the more his pocket weighed down with the leather box encasing your future engagement ring. The gloves were a real nice touch to not leave any of his grubby fingerprint marks on the silver band, nothing to ruin how pretty the ring would beam from your ring finger. You didn’t seem to like the gloves, but ah well..

‘I won’t give up on what my heart believes is real.’

He couldn’t believe the words leaving his lips, really. Could hardly hold himself together with how loud chest was pounding. 

‘Please, say yes.’ He begged, and his tongue felt so heavy dragging through his pleading. The backs of his eyes burned, his stomach churned, his knees trembled on the ground. If not for the cool breeze of air conditioning swarming through the hotel room, he’s sure he’d be sweating enough to soak through his suit.

It’s been so long since he’s touched you, since he’s seen your eyes focused on him, since he’s held you. Nervous hands clutch at your waist and bring you to stand. The look of awe and disbelief written across your face fills his chest with warmth. This could be worth all of his waiting and suffering, if you open your mouth and say that one word that can bring you together again.

“No!” A firm slap flies across his cheek. Snapping his neck to the side and nearly dislodging his jaw, he blinks for a minute to regain himself. Shifting his mouth muscles around to stop the lower half of his face from going numb.

More than the pain scorching through his face, he couldn’t turn off the ringing going off between his ears.

NO?!?!?!??!

Sunghoon’s cheek burns, his chest muscles twitch, and a searing pain erupts in his heart. He can feel it this time, no denying that his heart is literally in severe pain, causing him to reach for the area. He turns to glare at you, dropping the box with the ring from his grip. 

“What is wrong with you! You come here, to my job!!” You shout, shoving at his abdomen. “And you fucking ask me to marry you?!? Are you insane! Are you God damn kidding me! You can’t be this crazy, you just can’t be!”

He hears you, he does, but not really. Because the pain in his chest blooms, he steps back with each shove you deliver, and more of his internal hurt spreads. The butterflies flapping inside of his stomach lose their wings, they collapse to their death and he grabs a hold of your wrists before you can push him away again.

“You left me.”

It’s hard to look at him, harder to hear his voice. To feel his large hands wrapped around your delicate wrists. It’s harder to look away and find the ring by your feed, the ring he seriously thought you’d accept and wear on your finger? That you’d say yes?

“I was never with you.”

“Tell me,” he swallows, lifting your arms up and crossing them over your chest. Holding you in place. “Tell me that I mean nothing to you then. Let me fucking move on and forget about me, let me go.”

“Sunghoon.”

“No.” He grits, bottom lip trembling. “You don’t get to do this. You want to be with my brother? Then fine, go fucking be with him. But at least let me go.”

“This was all in your head.” You struggle to rip out of his hold, shaking yourself away. “Y-you think you can have whatever you want because of daddy’s money. You can’t have me just because you stomp and jump around like a bra—“

He should have known you wouldn’t give him a clear answer, you’re too weak for him to deny him. He’s too weak to stay away from you. So he cuts you off with a firm kiss, slotting his lips between yours. He’s been craving, dreaming of this kiss for months, to savor your taste once more. 

There’s no push or pull, only tension leaving your body as his soft pout moves against yours and he takes a step closer until the backs of your knees hit the hotel bed.

He deserves this kiss and some, more than anything. For waiting, for staying patient and not losing the little bit of his mind he still has left. A shudder runs up his spine when he drops his hands to your waist and squeezes you, pulling your chest to his. You feel right against him, smell so good, and your lips couldn’t be more heavenly. 

Slowly blinking his eyes open, he takes a few seconds to linger by your lips and take in your softened features. The dreamy look that’s taken over your face. The breaths that fan across his mouth heavier than before. He knows in this moment that you’ll never let him go, because he won’t let you.

“Y-you shouldn’t have done that.” You stammer, reaching for his hands on you. “Think you can just come back into my life and mess everything up again?!”

“Yes, I mean, no.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head in disagreement. “I’m not here to mess up anything, I’m here to make this right.”

“There’s nothing to make right.” Loosening his hold on your waist, you manage to move around him. “I have to get back to work, please do not follow me.”

“Please.” He knows he sounds pathetic, reaching for your hand to stop you from leaving. He drags along with you toward the suite entrance without letting go. Stopping when you do and your shoulders slump, letting out a long-winded sigh.

“What do you want from me?”

“A chance.” He says confidently, interlacing his fingers with yours. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it when we’re together. Call me insane and crazy all that you want, but I know what passes between us isn’t nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter—“

“No, it does though.” Sunghoon cuts you off, using your moment of surprise to loop his arms around your waist again. “Because I’m here, I came here for you. I will not leave until you give me a chance.”

“A chance? I don’t understand, I can’t even begin to understand why you’re still trying. Why won’t you give up?!”

He knows that nothing he says to you will make sense, that even if he admitted how his feelings began to develop you may not like his full explanation. “I’m a lot of things, I’m sure you’re aware. I’m nowhere near perfect, and I haven’t shown you anything impressive really. If you deemed me a monster, I couldn’t argue with that.” He nods, rubbing up and down your sides. “But when it comes to you, I really do believe that you like me despite all of that. I—“ he stutters for a second, looking away to recompose himself. The same rush of heat he loathes finds the backs of his eyes. He can’t cry, not now.

“I think we get each other, you’re scared.” Clearing his throat, he eyes your face for any change in expression. “I’m scared. I’ve been scared. Terrified of how strongly I feel about you. I’m done being afraid.”

“And what do you think I’m scared of?” You ask sternly, tilting your chin up.

“Me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m a monster.” That’s who he is to you. He’s the evil brother, the one with malicious intent. Spoiled rotten, crazy enough to do just about anything. He knows what you’ve built him up as in your mind, good or bad, there’s too much to repair and no amount of love you may harbor for him can do the job. If it could, you would have said yes. “That’s what you think of me, right?”

“No, Sunghoon.” You whisper, freeing yourself from his hold yet again. “I prefer to not think of you.”

“Why? Why is that?” He questions quickly, moving around you to barricade the door to exit. “Why are you pretending that I don’t exist? That none of this mattered to you.”

An air of defeat settles over you, dropping your head back with a sigh. You shrug and glare at him, unable to stop your gaze from roaming down, back up, and down again to take in how much more masculine and mature he’s become in just a year. Physically, and obviously emotionally. “Do you want me to tell you that I once had feelings for you? That I felt so guilty for months after leaving you alone in that hotel room. That I beat myself up over it, for feeling bad in the first place. I couldn’t even figure out how to feel, if you even deserved my sympathy after what you did.”

“Did you feel bad? For trying to break my heart?”

“No.” Pressing your lips into a thin line, you blink fast to push down the moisture finding its way to your eyes. Confused and annoyed by the look of disbelief that crosses his face, you clench your fists. “My heart let go of the idea of you after I found out about what you did to your brother. You played in my face and tried to manipulate me, I’m not even sure I know who you really are.”

Sunghoon has to fight to not roll his eyes, resting his back against the door he crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m exactly who I’ve shown you, never seemed to be a problem before.”

“Are you? Are you the same nice guy that took me to the Vatican? Or are you that asshole that threatened me in your bedroom?”

“Both.” He shrugs, pushing off the door to get in your face. “Tell me that you didn’t love both, that you didn’t like it when I fucked you the way you deserved.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to handle the truth if I told you what I loved most.” 

Sunghoon squints, licking the backs of his teeth with a hint of annoyance flickering across his face. He shakes his head and scoffs under his breath. “Don’t start.”

“Why? Because you hate to accept that side of yourself? That you can actually feel basic human emotion?” You ask brazenly, reaching for his jaw to drag one of your digits down. “That this sharp cold image is just a facade to hide how broken you really are?”

His neck twists away, snapping his face away from your touch. “Whatever bullshit my brother has told you is a lie. He doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know shit about what I went through.”

“He hasn’t told me much, only what I asked. I know about Miyeon.”

“Pfft,” rolling his eyes, he sets his jaw tight and pins you in place with a furious look. “What about her? I already told you, we broke it off. We never had a real relationship.”

“I know.” Softening your expression, you reach for one of his hands. Not too surprised when he allows you to lace your fingers between his. “I know about that, how your father wanted Heeseung to date her first. And I know that despite everything you’ve pulled, you still have love for your brother.”

Sunghoon lifts your hands, turning from yours to his to admire the size difference between you. How you perfectly fit against his palm, and how much nicer hand would look with a gorgeous ring on your finger. “Even if I did, it’s not enough to stop me from getting what I want. No amount of love for him or my father can stop me anymore, you do realize that, don’t you?”

“I think you’re looking for someone that I am not.” You frown, pulling your hand away. “I’m not the girl that can erase your past or heal you..”

“I don’t need to be healed.” Cupping your face, his thumbs stroke over your cheeks. Eyes dropping shut for a moment as he contemplates kissing you again. He knows better now, than you won’t listen to him if he tries to capture your lips again. “I just need you.”

“No, Hoon..” you sigh, lightly squeezing his wrists. “You’re in pain, whether you understand that or not. And it’s beyond me, above what I am capable of helping you deal with.”

Sunghoon’s fingers tremble against your jaw, slowly dragging his hands down to your throat. “Is my pain all that I am to you?”

“No, but.. I don’t know if your pain is something that I’m ready to handle.” 

Dropping his hands, he takes a step back away from you. No longer standing before the door, leaving you with a clear escape. “Yet.”

Perhaps he’s right, maybe it’s hope, delusion, something along that route. But you can’t find it in yourself to deny him. Only stiffly nodding your head as you make your way to leave the suite. He stops you one more time, licking his pink lips.

“Don’t leave me this way, after all of this. After a year of replaying every memory I have with you.” He says desperately, blinking away tears he’d never allow to pour down in front of you.

“What do you want from me?” You ask nearly as pitifully, fearing how much longer you can stand being around him. Your resolve can only stay so strong, even if you won’t admit that the memories of him have never once left your mind.

“A kiss.” 

“I’m with your brother.”

“One kiss.”

“One kiss and you’ll let me go back to work?” You ask hesitantly, already sensing thick tension building up around you. There’s nothing to stop you from opening the door and walking out, except Sunghoon could grab you.. and knowing him he would. He’d keep you holed up in here for another hour until you crack under his pressure and give into him. That’d be the worst case scenario, knowing in the back of your mind that you’d absolutely succumb to him if you stay in here alone with him much longer.

A small smile plays on his lips, nodding shortly. “One kiss and you’re free to leave.”

“But am I free of you?”

“No promises.” Sunghoon doesn’t bother to ease into the kiss. Making the first move to cup your face. He presses in, leaning his head in to align your lips. 

This kiss that he’s allowed to run rampant in his mind. This kiss that he’s craved for, pictured all of the different ways it would go. How you’d run into his arms, and he’d scoop you up. Maybe even some rain would fall from the sky, because surely even the Gods of the universe had to rejoice in this moment.

Only this is nothing as he dreamt of, this is better.

This is real. The barely there breathy moan that escapes your throat. The heat radiating from your mouth to his. The soft plush of your lips applying pressure against his as you kiss back. And you do kiss back, allowing the tip of his tongue to skim across the seam of your lips. He boldly takes the chance to push in more, eyebrows raised as your mouth parts open around him.

This kiss is more passionate, more intense, blooming life between his thighs. He feels mad once his tongue makes it past your lips, and he licks the roof of your mouth. Licks through the crevices, laps at your tongue. He can’t get enough, moaning as the taste of your saliva meets the back of his throat. He needs more, needs to know how swollen your pretty mouth can get if he keeps going. Pulling back his tongue and slurping, he latches onto your bottom lip. Sucking the plump juiciness between his, biting down harder than intended. 

Excitement builds fast, rushing through him at light speed and his hands. His hands slide down, they land at your chest, teasing the buttons of your blouse. And just like that your lips are gone, leaving him puckered up midair. Dreamily blinking open his glazed over eyes.

“H-huh?” 

The sight of the back of your hand dragging across your mouth is the first thing he sees. Drawing yourself away from him with a firm nod. You hold out a finger toward him and make your way to the door. “Stay right there.”

Sunghoon can’t ignore the way his chest swoops down to his stomach. His groin aches and throbs. Fuck if it isn’t taking every bit of his restraint to stop himself from chasing after you only to slam your back against that door before you can go anywhere. With clenched fists he listens to you, gritting his teeth.

“Will you allow me to call you now?”

“No.”

Sunghoon chuckles sarcastically to mask his pain. Having to hold himself up by clutching onto the entrance table. Practically knocked off of his feet after getting a small taste of you. “I figured as much. Well I always have your address.”

“Hoon.”

“What?” He acts stupid, blinking dumbly with a shit-eating grin. All of this is fake, an act to keep his tears under control.

“Do not show up at my home.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, that’s not my style..” he motions around himself. Indicating that he’d much rather track you down at work where he can at least enjoy a luxurious hotel suite. “I’ll be writing to you.”

“Writing??”

“Letters.” He nods surely, playing with the door handle. “I hope you’ll read them.”

Giving him a suspicious eye, you shake your head and begin to turn around to head back to your manager’s office. Scoffing and muttering under your breath. “Whatever.”

“Don’t be a stranger! Alright?” He calls out from behind you. Sighing to himself and dragging two digits across his bottom lip. 

Maybe you didn’t say yes, and sure, you didn’t seem as excited to see him after an entire year as he had hoped for; but one kiss held more than hope. Confirming that you still want him, still think about him. He’d cherish that kiss until you come around and finally accept to let him in. It’s not as if you’ve kicked him out, yet..

———————————-

‘I remember my first time in Paris, I thought to myself city of love? And wondered if I simply did not understand what love must really feel like. Dad had brought me along for a company trip, he wanted me to meet some investors, get my face recognized before I joined his side someday. I watched these old fat bastards chain smoke all night, rave about Parisian women dancing topless at Crazy Horse, drink as if tomorrow would never come. I felt no sense of love, only disgust as I sat there amidst wealth being mindlessly thrown around. 

And now I sit here in the city of love, and I sip on cappuccinos every early morning. I order the same flaky butter croissant from this adorable quaint café near my hotel. I take my time to people watch, relax and soak in the morning sun that has just risen, and I think of you. I think of love.’

He really did write you letters. Every week a new one would come in, addressed from one of your favorite aunts. The first to arrive initially had you excited, hoping she had shoved in a few hundred dollar bills after hearing that you’d been working. Maybe your mother had informed her that she hadn’t been transferring you quite as much anymore. The last thing you anticipated was a handwritten letter from Sunghoon.

Choking on your coffee as you began to read, you cleared your throat and peered around for Heeseung’s presence. Thankfully, he was too deep into his game to notice your wide eyes and the paper in your hand. Sunghoon had really sent you a Goddamn letter.. pen and paper.. what a fool.

You tried to hold back a smile as you continued to read upon realizing this was no mail sent from your beloved aunt. 

‘I think about you and how nice it would be to wake up by your side. To share my morning coffee with you, to cut a croissant for you. To simply take a stroll before I head into work and hold your hand. How much I’d love to see your face glow under this sunrise. I’d buy you flowers from the local vendors, take you on shopping sprees every weekend. We’d be regulars at the opera house, try out all the fine dining Paris has to offer. And when we’re up to it, we could go to the South of France, take the train out to Sweden, Denmark, wherever you wish to visit. That must be love, to enjoy and live through this life with someone who fills your heart.

-SH’

Thousands of feelings swarm around your head as you fold up the paper and tuck it into your pocket. Already planning to stuff it away inside of the jewelry box you only ever open to look at, to remember. 

“Babe, did you check out any of those listings I emailed you?” Heeseung calls out, not moving his eyes away from the computer screen. He leans in too close, jabbing at his keyboard. “Found some really good plots of land and houses that could benefit from a lot of refurbishing in Seattle. I think you’d really like the area.”

It’s been a couple of weeks now since your anniversary, since Sunghoon’s unwelcomed arrival back into your life. You never mentioned your night time visitor at work to your boyfriend, maybe out of fear. Worry and guilt as to how he would react knowing that his younger brother’s booked a suite at your place of work..

Heeseung likely wouldn’t have taken the news well, given your past and how sensitive the topic of his brother always is. You don’t walk on eggshells anytime he’s even alluded to in conversation for nothing.

“Uhm, no, haven’t had time, baby. You know work has been so crazy. Peak tourist season and all.” 

You’re not lying, work has been slammed. You’ve come home night after night completely exhausted. Also tense from looking over your shoulder, afraid and hopeful of the possibility to see a familiar face. It’s not that you want to see him, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. You’re curious more than anything.. if he’d rear around the corner. If he’d try to bother you while working, what his next step could be..

It’s better this way. Keeping Heeseung clueless to his brother's current location, avoid any possible altercations, and there’s of course no need to mention the kiss. It didn’t mean anything.. you just needed a way out.

“Babe, our lease here ends in a few months. I really want to start planning for the move back.”

This has been happening nonstop for the last week. Even when you’re fucking he brings up moving, rubbing your stomach and mumbling about having kids. Reassuring you that he’ll land a high-paying job once you move. It’s a near guarantee thanks to his last name and father’s connections..

“We could go month to month..” you mumble, pretending to clean up around the kitchen. “You know, if we can’t find a place we agree on.”

The sound of his game pausing fills your living space in silence. Slowly turning to look at you, he tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “But then we’d be here even longer, and I thought—“

“I don’t want to move.” You should have let him know immediately. But impending fear of losing him kept you quiet. Nodding and agreeing to whatever he said as you went on ignoring his texts and emails about moving. Skirted around the subject whenever he brought it up again. Yawned and waved off the conversation in favor of getting to sleep, or taking a shower, anything to make him stop until he came to the realization on his own.

“You don’t want to move?..” moving to stand, he slowly walks over to you. Lips pulled down in a frown. “But I thought we were planning our future—“

“You.” Interrupting him, you anxiously ring your hands together. Knocking your nail beds against each other. “You were planning..”

“Are you—“ he breathes shallowly, reaching for his chest. “B-breaking up with me??”

“No! Hee, no! Not at all!” You fret, running around the kitchen island to grab his arms. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this! I don’t want you to be upset!”

“So, you lied to me?” He sighs, head dropping. “You never wanted to move?”

“I didn’t lie.. I never told you that I wanted to move.”

“Then, then—why? Why not?” He sounds genuinely confused, tearing your heart apart. You tried to avoid this, didn’t want to have to ruin the peaceful relationship you’ve become accustomed to, too comfortable with. 

“I love living here, in Paris..”

“But it’s—we always complain about so many things! The sewer system, how fast the groceries go bad, the lack of convenient transportation!”

“You, you complain about those things.” Rubbing his arms up and down, you trail down to place your hands in his. “I’m sorry for not being honest. I don’t want you to leave me..”

Heeseung looks as overwhelmed as you feel, forehead wrinkled, lips tightened into a thin line. He sighs and shakes his head, pulling you into a hug. It’s not that you couldn’t make it work.. a long distance type of relationship, but for how long? 

There’s a chance you could wake up one day tired of this, missing your life back in the states. But there’s a higher chance you’ll regret letting him slip from your arms to start a new life without you in America. 

Silence and a tight hug consumes you for the next hour. Calming each other with soothing rubs up and down each other’s backs.

“Now I feel bad, like I’ve been pressuring you..” he mumbles into your shoulder. Squeezing you closer to his front. “God I feel like such a dick.”

“It’s my fault, seriously. You have nothing to feel bad about.” 

No. The only one who should feel bad is you. Giggling over some stupid letter that you should have tore up once you realized who it came from. You should feel bad whenever you’re by yourself, when your boyfriends at work, when you lock yourself in the bathroom alone; and you think about him. Replaying the kiss, the touch of his hands on you, the desperation in his voice. You’re the worst girlfriend, undeserving of a man as good as Heeseung.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Pulling away to look at you, he really tries to force a smile to comfort you. “I was getting home sick, I don’t know.. it was stupid.”

“Not stupid.” You say apologetically. Sorry for things he’s not even aware of..

The rest of the day goes by awkwardly, needless to say. As much as you both continue to assure each other that everything’s okay, and everything will be okay; you know that everything has changed. 

Heeseung drops the topic of moving for the next few weeks, and he tries, he tries so hard to be the best boyfriend to you. Only setting in what a piece of shit you really are for holding him back, for keeping him here with you for your own selfish reasons.

He’s your first love and the thought of losing him keeps you up at night. Staring blankly out into nothing as you quietly debate with yourself over and over again. Weighing out the pros and cons of moving, of giving up your dreams to satisfy his. 

And through your inner turmoil, the letters continue to come. Never questioned by your boyfriend when you explain that your favorite aunt once lived in Paris when she was about your age. You’ve become pen pals sort of, sharing your experiences back and forth.

Another lie.

‘I told my French instructor about you, or well, perhaps I fibbed a little. Told him that I moved here for my girlfriend. She loves Paris, enchanted with the city. He’s really helped me out to improve the little bit of French I had learned back in high school. 

There’s this saying he spoke of when I told him about us. 

Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point

It means: The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing. 

Again, I think of you, I think of my heart when it comes to you. The reasons I think that I love you, how they run so deep that I am not sure I will ever begin to understand how we ended up here..

I hope you are well, and that someday you will understand that love is not one dimensional. Our hearts are stronger than we realize. Love you.

-SH’

These letters, they could be another way to manipulate you. Going on two months now, he sends one every week sharing tidbits of his life here in Paris. How lonely it is, how he’s used to being alone, and how even though you are not with him—he is with you.

And then he writes about her, and you have to ask yourself how far Sunghoon’s willing to go to mess with your head. How much of himself is he willing to open up and spill out for you. He claims to love you, shouldn’t he pour himself empty for you?

‘My mom passed away September 26th. The days coming up again. I don’t talk much about her, I know. I am sure my brother has told you enough, how I bawled my eyes out everyday as a child. How much I hurt all by myself. Maybe it’s true that people like me are some of the loneliest.

Someone like me who seems to have it all. That’s what a lot of the employees under me now say behind my back. I hear them, I listen to their snickering words. To their quiet whispers when I arrive and walk through to my office without acknowledging their feeble existences. They think I’m a fucking dick, they’re probably right.

I don’t blame everything on my mother. I pity her the same way I pity my brother. Both too weak to handle their emotions in a way that doesn’t ruin others lives. 

You told me I have love for my brother, that I don’t hate him, and you’re right. I don’t know how you read me so easily, but you do. It drives me crazy, the way you make me feel seen. I go through life with all these eyes on me, but none of them really see me. None of them are actually looking at me.

Ah, I am speaking nonsense, aren’t I? You probably haven’t read a single one of these. Maybe I’m starting to lose my last attachment to this fleeting hope. Not that this hasn’t been worth everything to me. To be able to see you again even if just once, to taste you one last time. I can’t believe I allowed love in only for it to hurt me. 

I wouldn’t take any of this back. I don’t believe I have ever let go of myself this much, the invisible armor I keep up. Thanks to you, I have learned to bring down my defenses.. I really do hate that.

Talk soon, I hope.

-SH’

Each letter dug a deeper hole inside of your chest. Sunghoon never gave you a return address, both of you know there were more than enough ways to reach him. You know exactly where his father’s company is located, his email, his phone number that remains blocked.

He poured more and more of himself into each one. And as much as it pained you to read, you felt the same butterflies or excitement each time another letter arrived in the mail. Hiding yourself at your computer desk to read every new one, muttering to Heeseung that you had some work to wrap up. 

This couldn’t qualify as cheating if you remained contactless on your side, right? Not that repeating that to yourself helped any with the guilt that continued to suffocate you. 

If only you could run to your mother with this problem, let out all of your anguish. How much you’ve been stretched apart by these two men. How they’ve split you down the middle and made you forget yourself.

If they weren’t your step-brothers she’d likely soar to the fucking moon after hearing news of your rapturous love life. Not even your mother had enough faith in you to believe that two Park men could possibly be battling to a bloody pulp to claim you as theirs and only theirs.

As fast as fall came, so did the crushing weight of reality. 

Heeseung’s smile rarely graced your days anymore. His laughter hardly filled your loft. And the uneasy strain between you never subsided. His sadness was hard to ignore and trying to only made you feel worse, guiltier, like such a terrible person.

“Hee, I checked out some of those locations you sent me before.” You mention over dinner. Feeling extra tense after reading another new letter from Sunghoon.

He’s officially moved into Paris, no longer residing at a hotel. His writing was full of excitement this time, cheering happily about finding a place. Insisting you come visit him one day to at least compliment him for hiring a fantastic realtor and scoring a decently priced house with a perfect view of the Eiffel tower. Decently priced for a millionaire, of course.

“Huh?” Heeseung asks, half paying attention. Half distracted by a game on his phone.

“Seattle, right? It’s nice and cold out there..”

Nothing like a humid sunny summer day in Paris, no.. 

“Wh-what? I thought you didn’t want to move.”

You don’t. At all.

“Worth looking at.” You shrug, biting down on your lip nervously. 

It’s not actually, and you’re being tortured by your own subconscious that won’t shut up about this. It’s all you can think about even while you fuck and have great sex. Heeseung’s accepting a future he doesn’t desire for you. And you? You’re greedy, selfish, benefiting off of his pain to fulfill your needs and dreams..

“You don’t want to leave Paris.” He nods firmly, reaching across the table for your hand. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

All you seem to do these days is lie. Lie after lie, failing to convince yourself that you only choose to lie to protect him.

You have to lie, because worse than losing him, you’d hate to be another person that’s let him down. Another comparison to his mother, father, brother, all those who have failed him before you..

“I don’t.” You struggle to say, throat welling up with tears. “But I’m scared. What does this mean for us?”

“N-nothing, I—“

“You’re unhappy.” Saying those words out loud rush tears to brim your eyes. Blinking the first batch out, they scold your cheeks on their way down. “You don’t like it here, you’re only here because of me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” He appeals, sitting up. The game on his phone forgotten about. “I love you, I want to be wherever you are.”

“I know.” Sniffling, you squeeze his hand. Getting up to sit down on his lap and wrap yourself around him. “I love you, and I don’t want you to choose a life that was never meant for you.”

I’ve put you through so much Heeseung. That’s what you wish you could bring yourself to say. That you released his inner demons, went behind his back, selfishly expected him to fix all of your fucked up life himself..

“We can make this work, can’t we?” Heeseung’s first cry makes your heart sink. Clutching onto him, burying your fingers through his hair. You don’t want to ever let go, don’t want to accept the reality of your situation. That he may just be your very first heartbreak.

“Of course we can, baby.”

Lying isn’t always a bad thing, right? Sometimes we lie to spare others feelings. Like when your mother lied to you about cheating on your father, she knew you’d figure everything out in time. But you were too young to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. She lied so that you wouldn’t hate her or blame her. You lied for the same reasons..

By October, Heeseung had packed up his belongings. The two of you agreed that this wouldn’t be permanent, only until you finish up school and get at least a year’s experience of work. After that was all done, you could revisit the whole moving back to America conversation. Of course you cried and suffered in silence, keeping yourself as calm as you could around him as the days went by. The second you locked the bathroom door to shower, tears would find their way out. You’d sob and cry into your palm. Hoping the shower was louder than your aching chest to drown out the sound of your sadness.

Your mother only side-eyed you when you begged her to not make Sunghoon aware of Heeseung’s departure back to the states. She didn’t pry too much, only clicked her tongue disappointed by the lack of a close relationship you had with her preferred brother.

The goodbye before Heeseung got on the plane to leave you spiraled you into a depressive state for weeks. Only forcing yourself to appear normal when he’d video call you appearing equally miserable. This was the promise you made to each other, to keep your relationship alive. Update each other daily, phone calls, scheduled video chats, texts throughout your days, photos, anything. 

And that worked, at first. Even forcing you both to learn how to get each other off in new ways. Video calls often turned steamy, positioning your cameras to enjoy the view of your private areas as you touched yourselves and moaned. Of course, it was never enough and you’d crawl into the bed he shared with you only 3 weeks ago to cry yourself to sleep

“This was for the best.” That’s what you continued to tell yourself. He was miserable here, already back to smiling big as he used to whenever he answers another video call from you. He’s doing better mentally despite missing your warmth by his side, and that’s what matters.

If you love something, let it go, right?

That’s what Sunghoon did.

Sunghoon.

His letters have piled up, the fourth one coming in today. You stare at them stacked on your kitchen counter sometimes. Trembling hands tempted to open each and swallow down each word like a crisp sip of wine. 

They felt similar. Addicting, butter, sweet, euphoric. To be let inside of someone that not many, if any, have ever been able to know so well.

Maybe this was the right decision for you and Heeseung, as much as it ripped you to shreds to go through with. He once gave up the only life he’d ever known for you, and here you are.. only giving him up.

There are times you listen to the sound of your heart beating only to make sure it’s there. You’re not a heartless monster for choosing yourself first. Neither of your parents were pleased with this news, especially your mother who has been urging you to move and follow along with your step-brother. 

‘At least Sunghoon lives out there now too. I don’t understand you kids, Europe is great for vacation.’

She also pestered you to contact him, to not forget that he is also your step-sibling. That you also should build a healthy strong relationship with him as he will be the one to likely inherit all of Mr. Park’s wealth when his time comes.

‘Heeseung’s wonderful, I was wrong about him.’ She mindlessly chatted with you, holding a yogurt covered spoon by her mouth. ‘I’m so grateful that he took all of that time to look out for you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he had a crush on you or some type of liking.’

She giggled over the silly idea, finishing her yogurt and ending the call. Not before scolding you to text Sunghoon.

You wouldn’t. Instead, you shoved his unopened letters inside of a drawer and decided to attend your job’s annual Halloween ball. Something that could help to lift your spirits, dressing up a little, dancing and drinking with your coworkers. Why not?

Heeseung encouraged you and helped you pick out an outfit over video call. Leaving your room a haphazard mess of tops and skirts, all types of tights and fishnets thrown about as you tried on various looks for him. The two of you agreed upon a deep blood red coat you purchased sometime last year at a street market that resembled a cape.

“That should be good enough to cover you up on your way over.” He gulped, nervously taking in the skimpy black minidress you chose. Cut low to enhance your breast shape, the fabric clung to your skin tightly showing off all of your shape.

“Good thing I work with a ton of girls, right baby?” You winked, blowing him a kiss. He pressed in closer to the screen whimpering.

“Send me a lot of pictures?”

“Of course, don’t have too much fun handing out candy without me?”

The two of you chatted for a bit longer before you had to let him go. It was already after 8pm and the party had been well on its way by the time you arrived. Many of your coworkers had been hitting the open bar hard, dragging you onto the dance floor right as you arrived.

Halloween tunes from Monster Mash to Thriller blasted through the speakers and everyone had fun dancing. Exactly what you needed, not some grungy Parisian club filled with men attempting to grope you all night. Just a good spooky time with the closest thing you have to friends in this lonely city.

This lonely city that you could run into just about anyone in.

Brava. Brava. Bravissima.

That jawline, those eyes, his curved lips. You’d recognize him regardless of the mask covering half of his face. He’s standing there across the floor, beneath the balcony creating a shadow down his face. Sharp gaze laser focused on you, unblinking, licking his lips when you finally spot him.

How long has he waited? How did he know, and why.. why is he wearing that.

The world really stops, slows down, becomes mute when you see him. That’s Sunghoon’s power over you and he knows it. Floating across the floor to you, he bows forward. The cufflinks on his wrist gleam, the white gloves covering his hands strike visually in contrast against his black suit. 

And that mask, that mask hiding half of his handsome features. This has to be a joke.

“Phantom.”

“Ah, you did not read my letters.” His tongue clicks, and you’re sure a hint of blush spreads across his one visible cheek. 

“I did.” You stammer, squeezing your eyes shut. “N-not the past few, been busy..”

“Well,” reaching out his hand, he smiles. “Trick or treat?”

“Is this not enough of a trick for you?” You can’t help but sneer, rolling your eyes as you take his hand. “What happened to not stalking me at my place of work?

“I’ll have you know I stayed at this establishment for a month. I was invited because I’m now considered a platinum club member guest.” Sunghoon leads you away from the drunken crowd of girls you’d been amongst all night. Head towards the center of the dance floor, his sharp canines shine under the low lights that scatter about the room. “Didn’t think you’d be here, job requirements I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.” 

Not necessarily, but that’s none of his business.

“Not allowed to bring a plus one?” He questions. Making his true curiosity very clear.

“Felt like doing a girls night.” You shrug, lifting his hand to look over his costume. “So, why this get up?”

“Why not? I’m in Paris. Felt like an appropriate costume.” He shrugs back, cocking his visible eyebrow. “Not a fan?”

“That’s hilarious..” you mutter. Falling in line with him as he leads you to dance. “Me? Not a fan of Phantom of The Opera?”

“Let me guess, you’re my angel of music?” He grins, turning you around. His free hand creeping onto your waist beneath your cape. “The mask I wear?

“Good guess.” Sticking out your tongue at him, you snort. “I’m a vampire, obviously.”

“Ah, well, your fangs seems to be missing tonight.”

“Oh? You must be a human to think so naive.”

“Could always bite me if that’s the case?” His smile widens, bending in closer. “Right on the jugular, suck me dry to the bone.”

“You’re too insufferable to pull off Phantom, you know.” 

Sunghoon can’t stop himself from smiling. He even laughs, pointing out a table nearby. “Join me? I do miss this back and forth with you, you know.”

“My coworkers are waiting for me.” You lie, beginning to turn away.

“Come on, I won’t try anything. Promise.” Holding out his pinky toward you, he nods at the table again. “We can’t chat? Like old time friends?”

“We’ve never been friends, Sunghoon.”

“You’re right, whatever we are is so much worse.” He chuckles. Seemingly amused just to be in your presence. “Please? For a little bit?”

“Fine.” You know better than to give him an inch. Sunghoon only knows how to take more and more, but you can’t deny how human he seems now. Those stupid letters go to you.

“Honestly, had no idea you were a fan.” He holds out his hands in defense. Lips dragging down at the corners. “I thought about being a ghost and the Paris opera ghost came up while I googled. Tell me that’s not too perfect.”

“Well, I’m a big fan.” Easing up around him, you stir a tepid drink around. Mostly nursing it instead of drinking. He has to sit close to hear you as music blares, and you try to ignore how good the cologne he’s wearing smells. “It’s probably weird.”

“No no no! Tell me all about it.” Sunghoon couldn’t look happier to be talking to you. Crossing his arms over his chest proudly, he motions for you to continue. “I’m familiar enough to understand.”

“It’s just a really good romance. A tragic one, but good nonetheless.” You shrug, looking over his costume again. “Maybe I’m a sucker for love triangles.”

“I think I’ve caught onto that.” He snorts. Drinking the last sip of his beverage. “Is it like a team Edward or Jacob thing for you?”

“Pfftt.. don’t compare Phantom to that.”

“Well? You must have been on the good guys side. Raoul, right?” Sunghoon taps his chin. “I mean, you know, he was no Edward if you ask me.”

“Can’t stand Raoul.” You mumble. “He wasn’t really that good of a guy.”

“Pftt, tell me about it.” He scoffs under his breath. Lifting both eyebrows at you. “And Phantom, he’s just one hell of a man, huh?”

“You see, I get it. I understand why it’s only implied that Eric and Christine got it on.” You begin to explain, over-using your hands to distract from how awkward this conversation has become. “But, like—it wasn’t enough.”

Sunghoon grins, eyebrows mockingly bouncing up and down. “You little trollop.”

“Trollop?!” You guffaw, rolling your eyes. “You clearly have got to get back to America.”

“No no, don’t try to change the subject.” Snapping his fingers in your face, he nods for you to continue. “Go on, tell me about how you wanted Gaston Leroux to go into extreme detail about Phantom clapping Miss Daaé’s cheeks.”

“Ugh, it’s not that vulgar.” His smile only increases the more you lie and brush around the topic. Blowing out a long gust of air, you stomp and pretend to whine. How the conversation took a flirty tone is beyond you. “Fine! Fine okay! I dabbled in reading a few erotic Phantom of The Opera novels.”

“Do tell darling.” Sunghoon leans in, highly amused. “Got your shit off to some freaky phan-fiction, did you?”

“You’re seriously annoying.”

“I have to know,” he pouts, humming. “How was it?”

“I mean, Christine..” you trail off, bypassing his gaze. “She never really wanted it, I mean she did. But she didn’t—like she..” the tightness budding in your throat causes you to pause, locking with his gaze. “She did, but she acted differently. He really had to make her his..”

His head tilts, cheek dimpling with an arrogant glimmer in his eyes. “Sounds like my kind of girl.”

“Oh yeah? Since when has your style been the difficult type?”

“Sometimes you need to meet the right one to know what you’re looking for.” 

Sunghoon smiles, nodding toward the exit when you don’t keep the conversation going. “The nights still young, want to check out the Halloween parade?”

No. You shouldn’t, but you want to. So you nod and follow him out, keeping your arms pressed tightly against your sides.

Reading letters was definitely a form of emotional cheating, but this, this had to be worse. And deep down inside you knew after this night that Sunghoon Park would never leave you alone. He’d lurk in the shadows, haunt your dreams, chew away at your heart until he could swallow the last beatz

Maybe the darkness that surrounded him reached out toward you for the hundredth time, and maybe you let him in to finally meet yours.

———————————-

~seven years later~

The Eiffel tower is a magnificent sight at night. Lights glow all over the city, reflecting off of the water around. These days you spend a lot of time simply absorbing, taking in the grandiose landscape. 

When morning comes you sit down with a cup of coffee, decaffeinated tea as of late. Stirring a cube of sugar until it melts with the hot water, and you take a deep breath. Paris is romanticized in the media, in reality it’s nothing too special. What makes the city special is the people. From the different street vendors, cafe owners, angry bike riders shouting curses, the snooty designer brand employees bustling and rushing to work. There are certain quirks to the city of love that at times make you laugh.

Because here you are, reminiscing on these last few years. 

Heeseung had moved back after some time, and you couldn’t have been happier. Taking advantage of the short period of time he had no job, you would venture off to other parts of Europe. Finally visited the Swiss Alps during the Winter season. Everything was as beautiful as you always dreamt of, even more with him by your side.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Deep warmth vibrates against your throat. Pressing soft kisses up the side of your neck, he nips at your ear. Complimenting the diamond earrings he’d gifted you on your last anniversary.

“How much I love it here.”

“Can you believe that you almost left?”

That’s right, the flight to Seattle had even been purchased. Making it all the way to your gate before you broke down and cried. The life you’d made in Paris was everything you ever wanted growing up. And he was everything your heart needed. 

“I don’t think you were ever supposed to move back.” Wrapping around your waist from behind, he flattens you back to his chest. Large hands gently resting on the top of your stomach. “I knew ever since that first time, the way your eyes lit up when you stepped off the plane.”

“I hadn’t even left the airport yet.” You scoff, layering your hands on top of his. The sturdy build of his chest eases some of the weight off of your knees, utilizing his strength to lean against. “And I never wanted to leave after that.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Squeezing your hands, he slides them lower to cup around your protruding stomach. Slowly easing your interlaced fingers beneath your bump. “That’s why we’re here.”

Ah yes, there’s three of you to consider now. 

Now, how did this happen? How did you get here? What do your parents think? 

For one, they don’t know.

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.’ He shrugged, ever the type B personality. He never stressed much about anything the way you did. His only stress ever seemed to be you.

‘We hardly ever see them anyway. A few holidays that they make their way over here. What’s my father going to do? Disown me?’ He spoke arrogantly as ever. Smiling cockily and spinning you into his arms to follow him through the living room when you ran in holding a positive pregnancy test.

You’re not even married.

‘You’re having my baby. It’s about damn time.’

God knows he’s been trying to get you knocked up for months now. And maybe he’s right, you’ve worked despite him insisting he can afford to take care of you without your paychecks. But now seemed like the appropriate time to relax, be a stay at home mother.. buy fancy strollers and baby Chanel ballet flats. If you have a girl, of course.

“You ready darling? I know how much you love to stand out here and admire the pollution but we do have dinner reservations.”

“Do we have time to walk?” You ask hopeful, batting your eyelashes. 

“Ahh—“

“Please?”

He’s been such a hard ass ever since you started showing. Making new rules everyday of what you can and cannot do. “I know it’s not far, I saw the confirmation email.”

Clicking his tongue, he playfully glares at you. Rubbing your stomach. “Can’t ever just let me surprise you, can you?”

“Please? Who knows how much longer I’ll be able to see my own feet, let alone walk without waddling.”

Busting into a smile, he nods and directs you to follow him off of the balcony back inside of the house. First, you have to put on a coat, of course, it’s too chilly outside for you to only walk around in a dress. The baby could catch a cold, that’s what he says while getting your arms into a peacoat.

“Already miss wearing my high heels.” You frown at the flats that have begun to take over your closet. Led down the elevator to exit onto the street. His large hand finds yours, taking slow steps to not rush you. Making more effort with his longer legs to keep a light pace.

“Hey, those are $7000 shoes you have on.” He scoffs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “They’re cute.”

“Yeah, they’re cute.” You pout, watching your feet walk down the cobblestone toward the center of town. The convenient location of your ridiculously expensive house was prime real estate, located close enough to everything you’d want walking distance to. 

“They’re cute, you’re cuter.”

“Ahh, you little—“

“Hey.” A nervous smile plays on his lips. Coming around to take a few steps ahead of you, he reaches for the front of your coat and stops you. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Sunghoon.” You say flatly. Sensing heat climb up your chest despite the crisp night air. “You know I hate when you do this.”

His smile trembles more, biting on his lower lip. “Do you love me?”

“God, I wish I didn’t.” You sigh to hold back a smile. Turning away to not look at how the tip of his nose reddens. The Eiffel towers not too far now, right to your side.. a near perfect spot for..

Him to get down on his knees as he has when you turn back to look at him. 

“I asked you once before if you’d marry me.” His teeth chatter, not from the cold breeze. Blinking at the moisture that rapidly fills his eyes. “You said no.”

“Hoon..”

“And I kept that ring.” The same box from years ago opens up in his hand. The ring he thought screamed your name from the first moment he spotted it in some outrageously priced jewelry store. “I meant what I said back then as much as I do now.”

“You’ve always been crazy.” You manage to say through the wetness filling your throat. Clasping your hands to your face as a sob comes out. 

“Is that why you love me?” Sunghoon’s icy complexion flushes pink. A single tear trickles down his cheek, and his eyebrows scrunch together. Chest beating wildly waiting for you to deny him once again.

“One of the reasons.” You nod, draping one of your hands under your stomach to hold your dress down. “One of many.”

“Do you think that this time, I’ll get the girl?” He asks wearily, holding the ring up. “Will you say yes? Will you spend your life with me?”

“I think that you’ve always had the girl.”

“Good, because I’m nothing without her.” More tears pour down his face. Digging the ring out of the jewelry box, he takes a hold of your hand. 

“Marry me?”

After all of this time, all of this running away, all of these feelings you denied. There is only one answer.

“Yes.”

smut warnings. emotional sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, a moment with chocolate covered strawberries, lots of kissing, oral, breeding, etc

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Talk?”

“What happened last night?”

Shit.

You know exactly what happened last night, and that is a problem. Instead of jumping to admit the truth, you gulp, shrugging to appear confused. You didn’t drink really, but he did.. “I don’t remember much..”

“Yeah. Me either.” He sighs, sitting up frustrated.

Thank God.

“You—we drank again.” Correcting yourself, you move inside of his room, making sure to shut the door behind you. “We should.. lay off the alcohol for a while. I don’t think we can enjoy this vacation if we continue hammering our skulls in like this.”

Heeseung rubs his hands together for a minute, appearing to deeply contemplate his next choice of words. “Yeah, that’s the thing.. I need you to be honest with me..” he sits up, picking up the TV remote control once you’ve fully shut the door.

This is it. Fuck. He knows. He definitely heard you..

Panic races up your chest as he turns on the room's TV, moving in slow-motion where he sits before you. He looks up at you, nodding toward the screen. “I couldn’t remember the check out time, so I tried to look it up and ended up here.”

Bright text lists out the room charges that have been made so far, showing a larger amount than you’d expect after a few days. “Wait, they charged us for those drinks at the pool? I thought that was complimentary?”

He stands up to take a hold of your hand, clutching the remote with his other. “Tell me the truth, please. Did you order those drinks? The bottle of champagne? The shots?”

“Huh? No!” You answer abruptly, confusion wrinkling between your eyebrows. “The waiter said—“

“I didn’t think you did.” He interrupts, peering at the door behind you. “But someone did.”

“No—“ following his gaze, your head shakes in disbelief. “He wouldn’t, that would be—“

“He would.” Heeseung cuts you off again, gripping your hand tightly. “Because he’s fucking evil.”

“But, are you sure?” You sigh, not wanting to believe that Sunghoon would stoop this low.. wouldn’t he? “That would be too much, don’t you think?”

“Far too much, which unfortunately my brother has always been. If it wasn’t him, then who was it?” He bites out, lip pulled back over his teeth. “Wasn’t me, wasn’t you.”

“Maybe the hotel made a mistake..”

“Come on, by now you know how my brother moves.” Clicking his tongue, he lets go of your hand. “I can’t do this with him anymore, he’s gone too far now. Playing with my mental well being and issues I’ve worked so hard on.”

“You really think he’d do something like this?” 

Of course Sunghoon would.. as much as it pulls at your heartstrings to consider, you can’t deny that he absolutely would do something this vile. Only worsening the guilt swarming through your stomach the longer you ponder it.

Heeseung pauses, packing away his things, jaw clenched tight. “He’s really got you convinced hasn’t he.”

“What?”

“Be honest with me, do you have feelings for him?”

The silence that falls between your hard and overly emotional stares could slice through a frozen over pool of ice, sinking you down to the bottom to drown as it collapses beneath your feet, suffocating your lungs down to nothing the longer you take to answer.

Do you have feelings for Sunghoon? 

In spite of everything he’s done that’s pissed you off and angered you, he still manages to awaken a new thrilling sensation within you each and every time you catch his eyes on you; all of the small gestures and smiles he displays only for you.

“You do, right? You have feelings for my brother.”

“It’s—I can explain.”

Heeseung scoffs under his breath, taking a step back. “He always wins.”

“He hasn’t won anything!” You shriek, mindful to keep your tone low and not draw attention from the opposite side of the suite. “There’s nothing to win here! This isn’t a competition.”

“It is though.” Heeseung groans, rubbing at his temples. Doing his best to subside his anger toward his brother and not involuntarily lash out at you. “At least to him it is, and you’re the prize he’ll do anything to win.” Shaking his head, he pauses to look at you, a longing behind his gaze, as if he’s taking you in one last time. “And he’s doing anything, even threatening my sobriety at this point..”

Turning away, he continues to stuff his belongings inside of his luggage, head drooped between his shoulders. “I really—I don’t know. I’m so angry, I’m so fucking angry, I can’t even think.”

“Hee, please, come on. Let’s calm down for a bit.” You plead, wrapping around his waist from behind to dig your face against his back. “We can figure this out.”

“Can we?” He whispers, grabbing on your hands. “When you can’t even figure out how you feel about him?”

“That’s not—“

“It’s the truth,” he turns in your hold, cupping your face. “It’s not your fault, I know how he is. I just wish it hadn’t been you.” Letting out a deep breath, he loosens your arms from his torso. “Stupid of me to think he’d ever allow me to find happiness. As long as my brother’s around, we will never be able to build a healthy relationship.”

“Hee, that’s not true!” You say brokenly, refusing to let him go. “It’s—I can’t get away from him! He’s everywhere! School, home, here!” You say between tears breaking, flowing rapidly down your cheeks, clutching Heeseung’s shirt between your fingers out of fear that he’ll try to leave. Desperation shattering through your voice, distraught pulling your features down. “It’s not fair, everything he’s done to fuck with my head, I—“

He sighs, taking in all the things you’ve said with a pitiful expression. Nodding and pulling you in to cradle your head and press reassuring calming kisses along your forehead. “Sounds like my brother.”

“Maybe I need to get away from him. I just need space so I can figure this out Hee. He’s messing me up, I know it’s wrong, I know I wouldn’t be so confused in the right head space. This isn’t me.” You sniffle, continuing to sob and wipe your cheeks on his shirt. 

Heeseung continues to rock side to side, softly rubbing up and down your spine until the shaking beneath his palms subsides; running fingers along your scalp calmly until your breathing returns to a normal pace. “Listen to me, I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

Taking in your tear stained cheeks, the red wet brims of your eyes and the fear running behind your gaze, he wonders just how bad Sunghoon’s fucked you up. “Do you trust me?”

Trust is a heavy word.

Trust given the situation you’ve found yourself in does not come easy, nor should it. Biting your tongue from abruptly spitting out a ‘no’, you hesitantly nod.

“If you trust me, you need to help me out.”

“Wh-what do you need?” You ask quietly, continuing to wrap your fingers around the cotton material of his shirt. 

“I might have an idea..”

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” Shutting your eyes, you can’t help the sense of cringe after asking, slowly releasing him as he grabs onto your shoulders.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” He reassures. “As long as you can follow along.”

“What do you want me to do?” You frown, feeling more torn up now over what happened last night. The guilt of what you did with Sunghoon screaming at you like a banshee from hell in this room. Tuning it out, you keep your gaze trained to the ground, falling into a submissive state.

“Listen,” he begins to pace back and forth, chin gripped tightly, fingers rubbing across his mouth. “I need you to distract him today.”

“Sunghoon? After what he did to you?” You stress, shaking your head. “I don’t want to be around him!”

Heeseung shushes you, grabbing a hold of your shoulders again. “Please? I really need to talk to my dad without interruption or any possible interference from him.” He explains, stroking your upper arms. “He can’t find out. You have to keep him busy, I’ll try to get this done as fast as I can but my father can be a bit difficult to communicate with at times..”

“But..” you sigh, begging with shining eyes for him to say ‘nevermind’, to agree with you that this isn’t a good decision. “How am I supposed to distract him?! I don’t want to go out alone with him again!” No. Because going out alone with Sunghoon once had been damaging enough to your psyche. God knows what one more lovely experience could do to your heart..

“I promise you this is really important..” pulling you in, he wraps you in a tight hug. Lips pressed on your forehead before he continues. “I want us to have a chance.. without Sunghoon’s involvement.”

“I don’t get it..”

“Just trust me?” Heeseung cups your cheeks, softly caressing your skin and pecking your mouth between speaking. “I’ll text you when I’m almost done, but until then you have to make him think I got too drunk, hungover again. Tell him I’ve been sick in bed all day, don’t let him know I’m anywhere near our dad, please?”

Should you trust him this easily? Only confused the more he asks and proceeds to squeeze you against his body, littering kisses along your jaw. “I’m not good at lying Hee..”

“Then don’t lie.” Looking into your eyes, he nods stiffly, taking in your face full of despair. “I don’t care what you have to do.. whatever you have to do. Make him think you want to hang out with him today, because you had a real good time at the Vatican..”

As much as it pains him to suggest it, knowing there’s truth behind the remark, he forces a smile, reaching for your hands. “It’s okay, say or do anything you have to do.”

Anything?

As if he can read your mind, he squeezes your hands and makes a sound of approval. “Anything.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Distract Sunghoon.

Do anything you have to do.

Do anything it takes to keep him distracted, unaware of whatever Heeseung could be up to. Anything.

Pacing back and forth in the living room, you glance at Heeseung’s shut bedroom door repeatedly. Running your fingers between each other over and over again, fussing with your hair, gnawing on your lip.

The sound of Sunghoon’s room door opening echoes past you, halting your feet to come to a hard stop. It’s still early, early enough for bright rays of sunshine to flood the suite from the large balcony opening. He exits half-asleep, puffy face dragging up slowly to find your gaze already trained on him.

Confusion wrinkles his forehead together, head tilted to one side as he takes in your appearance. The tiniest black bikini you could have packed clings to your body, exposing more than enough skin to snap him completely out of his slumber. He coughs and stands up straight, ruffling the mess on top of his head. 

“Hey.” You say, clearing your throat to not stutter.

“Hey?” He replies raspily, voice not fully awake yet. Still thick and heavy, stirring something hot in your chest. “Morning..”

“It’s a really nice day outside.” You motion toward the balcony with a view of the pool. “Wanna go swimming?”

“Swimming?” Finally breaking his trance, he looks around the room, searching for a trace of his brother. “Where’s Hee?”

Letting out a long tired sigh, you point a thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the olders room. “Came out to all the bottles he ordered last night completely emptied.” Nodding toward the kitchen, you prove it with the empty glass containers lined up on the counter. “He’s out of it, don’t think he’s even sobered up enough for a hangover to even hit yet.”

That seems to please Sunghoon. A grin grows on his face as he follows your hand and counts the three large empty alcohol bottles. Easier than luring a rat into a box with a dangling piece of cheese..

“Hmm,” standing up straight, he takes in your bikini clad figure once more. “You want to go swimming, with me?”

“I want to go swimming.” You correct, hip popped, arms folded over your chest. “And I’m extending an offer for you to join me.”

Right. Because you shouldn’t be too eager, you wouldn’t be normally..

Mimicking your posture, he leans against the door frame, sharp teeth exposed with a small smile. “I’m not really into drinking.” He states for no reason, purposefully staring at your chest. “So when you say you want to swim, I expect your pretty ass to be in the pool with me.”

God. He couldn’t be more insufferable.

“You know what,” huffing a laugh, you pull on a cover-up draped by a towel on the couch. Waving him off. “Forget I even asked.”

Rushing over, he takes a hold of your hand to stop you, stealing the towel out of your other. “Give me five minutes, I’ll be right out.”

“I’m keeping time.”

His smile widens, running back to his bedroom to quickly change and grab a few things while you call out the time and hide a smile.

He went for it, of course he went for it. All it took was a skimpy bikini and the promise of seeing you drenched under the beating sun. 

Especially after last night.. whatever that was..

“Ready.” He bounces back out wearing nothing but black swim trunks. Sunglasses on his head to match and push his messy hair out of his face.

Oh.

You shouldn’t still react this way to seeing him shirtless, having to catch yourself and shut your mouth fast. Averting your eyes away to find your bag. “Took you long enough.” You sneer, snapping your fingers and heading toward the door. “Let's go.”

—

“Let’s not stay out here too long.” Sunghoon suggests, tapping his phone to check the time. “Don’t wanna get burnt.”

“What is that?” 

“What is what?” Following your gaze, he watches as his phone screen fades back to black. Continuing to lead you toward empty pool chairs.

“You don’t seriously have a photo of me as your lock screen..” you mumble, throwing your bag down. “Please don’t tell me you seriously have me on your phone like that.”

Sunghoon shrugs, rubbing his neck. “It’s a nice picture of you.” Tapping the screen again, he shows you, smiling as he looks too. “Besides, I took it.. and I think you came out really nice.”

“What if your dad sees that? Or my mom?” Shaking your head, you grab a couple of towels. Distracting yourself from watching him apply sunscreen over his chest and arms. 

“What? I can’t have a picture of my adorable step-sister on my phone now?”

“I believe your father would agree that your girlfriend would be a more fitting option.” You bristle, tossing a towel onto his chair.

“Can you get my back?” He motions to the bottle of sun protection in his hand, turning around without acknowledging your comment. “Please?”

Taking a minute to watch the muscles lining his back flex, you hesitate to get closer. Snatching the SPF from him, making sure to aggressively slap the lotion onto his skin. “You could use some sun.” You snicker, rolling your eyes.

“And ruin my flawless even tone?” He scoffs, turning to look at you and winking. “Come on, let’s get in.”

“Just a minute.” You wave for him to get in the pool, grabbing your phone to text Heeseung. 

You: I got Sunghoon to agree to go swimming, will try to stay out here for a while.

Heeseung: Might be a few hours.

You: A FEW?!

Heeseung: Please keep him busy.

Fuck. A few hours?! What the hell could he be up to taking this long.

“Come on,” Sunghoon grins at you over his shoulder, slowly stepping into the pool, reaching down to splash water on you. “I told you I want to swim.”

“Yeah yeah.” Following him in, you’re instantly soaked, gasping for breath. Thick biceps belt around your waist, hauling you into the deep end until you’re blinking at him under water. He puts up a fight for a minute until you threaten to kick his groin, cupping over the area as bubbles burst from his mouth and nose and you both struggle to resurface.

“You asshole!” Gathering your breath, you paddle over to the ledge to grab onto. Hair a wet mess, clinging to your face and neck. 

“Thought you wanted to swim.” Sunghoon floats behind you, mouth peaking over the water halfway. Trickles of water pass from his wet locks, a few latching onto his defined eyebrows.

“Fine. Let’s swim.” You glare, shoving past him. “I know you can’t swim faster than me.”

“Ohhh, is that a bet?” He smirks, standing to his full size. Wet chest raised over the water to show off his strong build. “You’re on.”

You should have expected it by now, of course Sunghoon swims akin to some Olympian athlete. Winding you by the 5th lap back and forth, unable to catch your breath without noticing the irritated looks from others enjoying their summer vacation by the pool.

“So, what do I win?” He cheers, hands shoved into his hair pushing each soaked strand all the way back. Smooth forehead and strong jaw completely visible. 

“What do you want?” You grit, leaned over on the pool's edge still gasping. “And don’t say it.”

“Oh I don’t want that.” He laughs, quickly rolling his eyes and settling by your side. 

“…you don’t?”

A sleek gaze scans your confusion, slowly nodding as his arms fold over the ledge and he leans down, chin perched on his forearms. “Ask me why.”

Because of the other night? When you moaned and screamed under his brother’s body? When you shouted how good he is, how much you love it.. that he’s the best.

“Don’t care.” You shrug, looking away. 

“Yeah yeah..” trailing off, he swipes your hair aside, softly tracing your shoulder. “You know, it’s been nice hanging out with you like this, just the two of us.”

Shrugging him off, you frown, eyes slitting. “You must have a lot of fun hanging out alone with Miyeon too. You know, your girlfriend, in case you’ve forgotten. The girl you should probably have as your lock screen.”

Sunghoon smiles to one side, nodding along to everything you’re saying. “Not that it’s any of your business but..” he holds up his hands, turning the one that typically sports a ring from side to side. “We ended things.”

“What?!” 

Amused by your reaction, he stands up straight, turning to lean his back along the pool wall, elbows propped on the ground. “Well, I ended it.”

“Oh, you’re soooo fucking full of it.” You fume, poking at his chest. “Can’t you ever just be normal?!”

“Go ask my father if you don’t believe me.” He says casually, seeming unperturbed. “He’s the one threatening to not pay for my tuition next year because of this.”

“Why would your dad care—“

“Because, he’s the one that set me up with Miyeon in the first place.” He interrupts, gaze finding yours. “Not that you’ve ever asked- but my dad’s been trying to merge with her family’s company since before I was even born.”

What.

There’s a throb running up the sides of your forehead that can only be described as Sunghoon. Irritating, infuriating, down right rage inducing. Causing you to apply pressure to your temples before you can begin to register anything he’s saying. “You’re telling me—“

“Let me guess, my brothers told you a different story, right?” He glares at you, getting closer to your face. “Told you how I cheat on Miyeon all of the time, that I don’t treat her right? Yeah well,” he takes a deep breath, biting on his tongue. “Think I’ve been more than nice by never telling anyone about her secret long-term boyfriend in New York..”

No. This cannot be happening right now.

“You’re lying—all you ever do is lie to me.”

He gulps dryly, continuing on. “We are friends, well, we became friends, Miyeon and I. That’s it, she knows I sleep around and I know about her relationship. There’s never been anything between us beyond that, and you know what? It was enough to get my dad off my ass for a while. Enough to take the heat off of Heeseung whenever he’d fuck up too.”

“What the hell does Heeseung have to do with this!” You hiss, getting right back in his face.

“You try dealing with his bullshit, always crying when he had to come live with us. He ruined everything, we were fine before she died.” He says quietly, voice cracking toward the end. “Before he showed up and started pissing dad off all the time. I had to be the good one. I didn’t have a choice. You wouldn’t fuck get that.”

“You can’t compare yourself to him. He can’t compare you either! You need to figure shit out, both of you.”

“I have nothing to figure out anymore.” His jaw clenches, leaning back, blinking up at the sun. “I’m tired of saving face for that fuck-up. It’s not my fault he can’t fucking man up and deal with his shit.”

“And you?” You goad, lips curled in. “Because you deal with this weird jealousy you have toward your brother so healthily?”

“Oh please,” Sunghoon gripes, breathing harshly through his nose. “Jealous of him? If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t even exist to me.”

“You really..” an overload of information fills your head. Pressing down on your temples harder.

If Sunghoon’s not with Miyeon then.. what the hell does he want with you? Why is he so determined to ruin your damn life?!

“I don’t get it.” You sigh, floating bonelessly, defeated. 

“Well I’m not sorry that I’m not the asshole you want me to be.” He sneers. “I can be, if you want, but I’m getting tired of you throwing this relationship I stayed in to satisfy my father in my face.”

“Why would you break up with her?” You ask wearily, afraid to hear the answer.

His gaze slowly drags over your face, licking his lips. “I’ve waited long enough, and given up enough to be the golden child. The all star athlete, straight A student, volunteer hero, a respectful young man my father can brag about.” He pauses, inching forward. “He makes sure that I always get what I want because of that, but there is one thing I don’t think he’ll be able to help me with.”

“And why is that?”

Nodding slowly, he lifts his eyebrows and returns to leaning against the pool ledge. You know why.”

“You expect me to believe you? That you just.. broke it off with this girl you’ve been with for years..”

“Well yes.” He rebuttals, shoulders bouncing. “Why would I lie about this.”

“Why would you lie about breaking up with the girlfriend you never told me about in the first place?” You spit, furiously blinking at him. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Omitting the truth isn’t a lie.” He corrects, 

Continuing to rub at your temples, your head shakes, lips pursed to hold back an angered groan. “This seems pointless..”

Sunghoon’s contemplative expression makes your lips tighten more, ready to run from the pool and check your phone before he can get another word in.

“Our pointless conversations mean a lot to me..” he mumbles quietly, head shaking. “Doesn’t matter, right?”

His hand lifts before your face, inspecting the tips of his fingers while your mouth parts. Tongue turning heavier the longer you think of a proper response.

“Getting pruney..” he nods toward the stairs. “Let’s get out.”

Perfect. Hopeful that Heeseung’s texted, you follow him back to your chairs. Wrapping a towel around your hips before reaching for your bag to check your phone.

Zero notifications. God damnit.

“Kind of hungry.” He mutters, looking over the pool’s bar menu. “Wanna share anything?”

“No thanks,” you pretend to yawn, laying back with your arms behind your head. The way your stomach grumbles hardly goes unnoticed, rolling his eyes again before turning his body to look at you.

“It’s funny.” Calling a waiter over, he taps an item on the menu, entering your room number on a device to pay.

“What's funny.” You say flatly, eyes shut.

“How much you pretend to hate me when we’re not even all that different..” he notes, laid on his side with one arm keeping his head held up to watch you.

“Hah!” You guffaw sarcastically, sneering. “You and I? We’re nothing alike.”

“Sure.” He chuckles, sitting up to grab a plate full of chocolate covered strawberries from the waiter. “Thanks.”

The decadent fruits grab your attention, watching from the corner of your eye as he bites into one, releasing a pleased hum. “I know you’re hungry.” He mutters between bites. “You haven’t ate today.”

“I’m not.”

It’s not entirely a lie.. even if your stomach disagrees. Even if your mouth salivates when he picks up a white chocolate covered berry, swallowing the saliva swarming around your tongue at the bite he takes. “Won’t snitch on you to mommy, you know. You can eat good food around me, can be added to the pile of secrets we share now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You glower, sitting up. Gaze flitting between the plate and Sunghoon’s pink lips wrapping around another piece. 

“You think I’ve already forgotten about your horrible squat form?” He huffs, laughing. “I know your mom scolded you to get your ass in the gym.”

“Yeah, so what? What’s your point.” Wrapping your arms around your stomach, you can’t ignore the next rumble that passes. How the hell did he know that you love chocolate covered strawberries?

He shrugs, holding one of the treats in front of your face, slowly turning it. “You think we’re different because I do whatever I need to do to keep my father happy. Meanwhile, you play the part of a doll for your mom to relive her youth through. Restricting what you eat, trying to work up a sweat when she makes comments on your figure. Taking it personal when she dislikes your hair, makeup, clothes.. even going as far as pawning off your body for better grades.” He emphasizes that last part with a bite, red dribbles of liquid squirting from the berry. The tone bright against his chin, pink tongue slowly dragging out to lick himself clean. “We’re not all too different, you just never had anyone around to make it harder for you. Only child syndrome shit..”

“Not my fault you have some major mommy issues.” You whisper, face turning away before he can finish off the strawberry.

“You would think that,” he hums. “Have to have them to recognize them.”

Ready to curse him out, you look again only to find his eyes focused on you, lightly tipping his chin. “Eat.”

“No.” 

“You’re hungry.” Sitting up on his knees, he crawls onto your chair, lifting a berry before your lips. “I want you to eat.”

I don’t care what you want. That’s what you should say. That’s what you would say if he wasn’t so close, looming in front of you, broad bare chest close enough to smell the chlorine radiating off of his skin. The small space between your lips invaded by the hard shell of chocolate, sweet and cool against your lips. “Take a bite.”

Sunghoon’s gaze slowly drifts from yours, skimming down the bridge of your nose to your lips, tipping the berry in until your teeth clink and you open wider. “That’s it.”

Sugary sweet milk chocolate melts onto your tongue, sucking around the strawberry as he slowly dips it past your lips. “Tastes good, doesn’t it.”

It’s dizzying really, how easily his gaze alone can make you feel lightheaded. Nodding slowly as you succumb and allow him to feed the rest of the strawberry inside of your mouth. 

“I knew you wanted it.” He says, hinting a cocky confidence. “I know you want a lot of things you refuse to ask for..”

Sunghoon uses your seconds of falter to grab your chin, thumb pressed against the center. “Want more?”

No.

Why can’t you just say no? Why must your tongue slip out, allowing for him to run another chocolate coated fruit along the tip. Sinking in closer, he starts with a light kiss placed on the corner of your lips, lapping at the side of the strawberry sitting between your lips. “Let me taste.” He whispers extra quietly, pushing the fruit between your conjoined lips. Less focused on the bits of chocolate breaking up against your tongues than he is with licking across each crevice inside. 

“Hoon..” whimpering, you clutch at his wrist, tugging his hold away to deepen the kiss for a minute. Struggling to catch your breath the more he strokes and sucks around your tongue.

“You’re making a mess..” he speaks softly, thumb brushing along your chin. Tongue flicking out to lick up a crumb of chocolate. “Do I have to clean up all of your messes?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” You’re not really asking, no. Unsure if you even managed to speak, you sigh, pressing closer to him.

“A lot of things will have to stay unspoken between us,” pinching your chin, he tilts your face up. “Until you’re ready to accept who I am, and what you want.”

“I don’t want what you are.” You whine, grabbing his chest. “You’re drama, bad.. very bad.”

“I may not be what you want me to be..” he licks your lips clean, pressing featherlight kisses. “But I’m what you’re afraid of having, too risky, unpredictable. I know that you feel it as much as I do..”

Silence falls between you as you can’t fathom doing anything other than stare. His unblinking eyes absorb every emotion you can’t bring yourself to say, down to the misery wrapped around you each time you end up like this.

“I’m going back to the room to shower.” He says after a few minutes, finishing with a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll check on Heeseung if you plan to stay out here much longer.”

Check on Heeseung?

Shit.

Snapping out of the Sunghoon induced trance you’d fallen into, you jump to sit up, scrambling to grab your bag. “Wait wait! No no, don’t go.” You rush toward him, wrapping around his arm. “One more swim?”

“Tired of chasing after you.” He says flatly, teeth baring, implicating more. “It’s getting a little too crowded out here anyway.”

“But.. we were having so much fun.”

Glaring at you once more, he scoffs and turns away to head back inside. Only slowed down by your limbs wrapping around his arm to keep him close. “Are you not having fun?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, slamming the elevator keys to promptly get inside as the doors are quick to open. Forcing you to follow, he shrugs a few times, failing to get you off. “Maybe I’m getting bored of just having fun.”

“What else do you want to do? Want to go out?” You ask desperately, tugging your bag you were rushed to grab quickly onto your shoulder. 

Instead of replying, he gives you another irritated look, ripping free from your hold once reaching the floor you’re staying on. “Can’t tell if you’re playing dumb right now, or you’re actually just dumb.”

“Hoon..” stepping inside behind him, you grab onto his shoulders. Nervously peering at Heeseung’s shut door. “That’s it? That’s all you want?”

“Hmmph..” sliding your hands off, he turns half-body. A small smirk playing at his lips, eyes thinned. “What do you want?”

“What?” You blink confused, grabbing onto his elbow.

“What do you want? Because it’s getting old, this little act.” He states snarkily, moving toward his bedroom. The change in direction releases a sigh of relief, shoulders loosening as you follow him. 

“What act?” 

Coming to a halt at his door, he steps inside, turning around to look at you, arms raised up to grab the door frame. “Think I’m just going to fuck you and have you pretend you don’t want it over and over again? That I’m going to let you fuck my brother right in front of me and crawl back to me whenever he doesn’t do it how you like? How I do it for you?”

“That’s not true..” you mutter, looking away. “That’s not why—“

“Then what is it?” He crowds in closer, nose nudged against your forehead. “Because you like me? And you want me to fuck you. You want to be with me?”

Sunghoon huffs after a minute of silence, nodding against the top of your head. “If you’re not going to be honest with me, then leave. Go find your boyfriend, or whatever, to comfort and take care of your needs.”

Stepping backwards, he rolls his eyes, sitting down on the edge of the hotel bed. “Well? You gonna stand there all day?”

“No..” wishing you could steal a look at your phone, you shut the door behind you. Setting down your bag on the nightstand. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” 

“You expect me to believe you about Miyeon as if you haven’t lied to me before.”

Standing up, he moves toward you, eyebrows stressed together. “You know what I don’t get?”

Getting closer to make you uneasy, he bites down on his lip, jaw clenched tight. “Why are you the only one allowed to fuck whoever you want? Why should I still want you?”

“Sunghoon, I—“

“No.” He cuts you off, standing straight to loom over you. “You still want me? Then show me. Prove it.”

Glancing at your bag one last time, you nod. Submitting to his wishes and reaching for his swim trunks. 

“No.” He sneers, grabbing your hand to hold before you can gather the drawstring. “Kiss me, you kiss me.”

A kiss. A kiss initiated byyou. That’s what he wants..

Closing the small space between your bodies, you wrap around his shoulders to arch your neck back. Failing to ignore the shivers rushing through your fingers, you lick at your lips repeatedly. A kiss shouldn’t be this hard, not after everything you’ve let him do to your body..

“I’m waiting.” He says between gritted teeth, not moving a muscle closer for you. 

You know Sunghoon doesn’t simply want a kiss. No. He wants you to admit something that isn’t true, wants the reassurance that he still has some type of power over your relationship with his brother. Needs to believe that you’d still choose him given the chance..

Fine. Give Sunghoon what he wants. Do anything you have to do.

Pressing your lips to his, you hesitate to deepen the kiss at first. Smoothing down to grip onto his biceps as you begin to lean in more, pouting to meld your mouths together. Staying stiff between your hold, he doesn’t move an inch, allowing for you to take command. It only takes a few seconds for your greedy tongue to knock at the seam of his lips, desperate to taste the residual sweetness left behind. Working with your pleading tongue, he parts open, lazily licking along the muscle entering his mouth. 

It’s the most mandated basic kiss you’ve shared with him, lacking passion, lacking heat. Hardly sparing you more than a few flicks of his tongue before pulling away with a look of annoyance mixed with anger. 

“What’s wrong?” You breathe, grasping his biceps. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“Hah..” without looking at you, he nods, biting on his lip. “Fine. Let’s do this your way.”

Removing your hands, he sits down on the bed, easing the drawstring on his trunks open. 

Licking the taste of him off your mouth, you silently agree. Shifting down onto your knees to settle in the space between his spread open thighs. “Wait.” Sunghoon’s palm presses to your chest, chin directed toward your body. “Take that off, you know how I like it.”

Right. Take off your bikini top, unknot the tied strings behind your neck, slowly ease the triangle shaped material off your breast. That seems to appease him, sliding his hand down between your chest, he nods in approval. “Bottoms too, and show me.”

Heat rushes up as you follow his orders and get off your knees to stand, untying one side of your bottoms at a time to really stretch out the reveal of your bare cunt. “Wait.”

Grabbing onto your hands, he glides the damp fabric off your core for you, humming quietly. “Do I even have to do anything to turn you on?”

No. But you won’t give him the free ego boost, stepping away from your bottoms that fall to the ground without meeting his eyes. He cups between your thighs, thumb finding your clit to circle. 

“You get wet like this for me because you like me, whether you’re willing to admit that or not.” He says monotonously, palm patting against your center. “Not only for my body either, even if you look at me with those cock hungry eyes.” With a grin he draws free, admiring the slick on his hand. “Get back on your knees.”

This is the problem with Sunghoon, so full of himself. So self-concerned, assuming he means more to you than he really does.. 

“Good girl.” He acknowledges, humming under his breath when your knees return to the floor. “You may piss me off, but at least you know when to listen.” He leans back, stomach muscle tight, flexing above his swim shorts. “You know what to do.”

You know what to do thanks to him, he was the first guy to force you to swallow every inch.

Running your parted lips over the tip of his size, you lightly lick down the slit. Avoiding the intense gaze he has focused on your actions. You know he wants your eyes on him, but you can’t give him that. Not this time. His length chubs up to full mass on top of your palm, dragging from side to side suckling the mushroom capped tip. The muscles lining his stomach in your line of sight flex, convulsing each time you run along the slit collecting pre-cum that continuously drips out.

You owe him from last night, that’s all. Nothing more, suck his cock and get this over with. “Take in more, you’re better than this weak shit.” 

The comment elicits shivers down your spine, further parting your lips as you push forward and drag your tongue against the thick vein lined underneath. He holds in a groan when you vacuum seal and suck around him halfway, tickling your fingers toward the filled heavy sack between his thighs. “You’re being annoying on purpose, aren’t you?” He tuts, dragging his hands through to the back of your head to cup you and hold you in place where he wants. “All the way.” 

Coughing around the sped up intrusion, you relax against the heavy weight of his length continuing to stretch past your lips. Gurgling when the tip breeches your throat, bulging against your neck muscles. “Fuck.” He hisses, keeping his moans at a whisper level, because two can play this game. 

You want to keep this act up? As if he had to do anything more than nod to get you here, as if you don’t want it just as bad.

He doesn’t waste more time to go easy, enjoying the gurgled sounds escaping from around his cock. Lifting his hips from the bed to fuck your throat faster, he grunts deeply, choking on the rasped whine that finds a way out. “Can you breathe?” He questions, hips ramming into your face mercilessly. 

Scratching at his thighs, you try to shake your head, only to receive a slap on the cheek. Not too rough or painful, but hard enough to alert you and snap your eyes open in time to see his pam lay flat over your nose. Fully blocking your ability to breathe, leaving you no other option but to lurch around the thick meat pumping in and out of your throat.

“Fuck!” Holding you in place, he pinches your nose until your throat chokes around his cock. The tight squeeze nearly making him bust, having to let go and rip your mouth off to stave off his orgasm. 

He pants heavily, clutched over reeling from the denial of release he just gave himself. Heavy wet cock throbbing against his stomach. “Fuckfuck..” 

Swallowing down harsh breaths, the room fills with both of you attempting to recompose yourselves. Landing hard on your knees when he abruptly removed you. 

Sunghoon rubs at his face, licking his lips, craving more of your taste.

“C’mere.” He says lazily, index finger directing you to climb onto his lap. “Who taught you how to suck cock like that?” He smirks, cleaning the drool off your chin. “Did a good job of teaching you.”

He mumbles distracted by your swollen cock sucking lips, devouring them in one swoop with his. Licking and sucking between your upper and lower. The taste carrying hints of salt and sunscreen, the chapstick you applied hours ago. All of it drives him up a wall, licking between for more of a taste, tongue sucked around yours. 

“I wanna be inside of you.” He mumbles between your lips, kneading your hips firmly between his digits. “Get on the bed.”

Nodding too eagerly, you try to jump off his lap onto the space behind him. Firmly held in place by his biceps circling around your waist. The muscles bulging and stretching his pale skin tight around them.

“You’ve really turned into a little slut haven’t you?” He mocks, licking up the center of your throat to land at your jaw. Mouthing and sucking up to your ear as you keen and whine in dismay. “Or is that reserved for me? Cause I fuck you like a whore..”

Big palms flatten on your waist, groping his way lower to slap and squeeze your bottom. Coercing your hips to grind against him with rougher hits, he grasps onto your buttcheeks. The blunt tips of his nails digging into your soft fleshy skin. “My slut, only for me, right?”

Yesyesyes whatever you fucking say. Between your half-lidded eyes and clouded aroused mind, you somehow manage to keep yourself mute.

Sunghoon nibbles on your earlobe, licking back down your jaw to kiss along your chin. “Say it, want me to fuck you? Then say it.”

“N-not a slut,” you stammer, gasping at the round of slaps he delivers. Arching your back forward, chest shoved to his face. “Only f-for—for you.”

“Such a pain in the ass for such a pretty slut.” Another succession of whip-like slaps has you wailing. Unable to catch your breath before he shoves you onto the bed and stands up to fully remove his clothes. “So fucking difficult.” He grunts, pulling your hips up to get a close look between your spread thighs. “With the prettiest pussy, all for me.”

It’s humiliating how loud the squelch is that escapes as his fingers dip in last your blood filled velvety folds. The wetness emitting from your cunt enough to plop out onto the bed if he pulls out too fast. Tapping along your twitching hole, he hums, pleased by the tremors running up your thighs. Shocking you to arch in deep with another hit that ripples through your buttcheeks. 

“I-inside..” you whimper, setting yourself on all four in a more sturdy position. “Please?”

“What do you want? My fingers?” He prods, at your entrance, swiping down to your clit to teasingly tap at. “My mouth? My cock? So fucking wet for me, you’d take anything I give you.” Rubbing his fingers up and down to create a mess, he coats the outside of your cunt with wetness. It’s everywhere, all juicy and ready to be wrecked.

“God please—touch me, inside, anything.” You shiver, teeth chattering already. Maybe if you.. shove your ass out more, shoulders flat against the bed to show off the deepest arch. 

Sunghoon hisses, pressing kisses down the seam of your slit before pulling away with a curse. “And why should I give you anything? Because you’re dripping fucking wet? Acting like a desperate whore for cock?”

“Please—“ you sob, sinking into the bed deeper as he climbs on behind you and mounts your backside. “Wan—want it!”

“This?” He teases, so fucking meanly, jamming the tip of his cock against your fluttering hole. Pushing in just past his pre-cum soaked slit, he wraps around his length tightly, easing the tip half in and out. “Pussies fucking screaming for my cock baby girl.. want me to fuck you? Keep saying that shit.” He groans, pushing in further to feel your cunt snap around his cockhead. “And say my fucking name.”

“Hoon—ahh!” You shout, the side of your face fully pressed to the bed, chest caved against the sheets. The demanding slap he smacks your ass with makes your spine throb, resounding around the room like a crack. “Sunghoon! Fuck me! Fuck me please!”

Licking at the sweat gathered on his upper lip, he slinks lower to grip onto your hair. Knee sinking into the mattress, his other leg propped up for a balance. He could fuck you like this, he normally would.. 

“Want you to look at me when you cum.” He whispers, pulling until your mouth can full breath without the bed obstructing your oxygen. “Want you to say my name, look me in my eyes, tell me who fucks you this good.”

Fuck. 

That’s not what you want, not something you can handle in this submissive state. Popping free the tip, he sets you on your back without much effort. The dazed look written across your face telling him everything he needs to know. 

“Nu—“ you scramble to move back onto your front. Held down by big hands slamming onto your hips, chaining you to the bed with their powerful hold. 

“Don’t fucking move.” He appears offended that you even tried to disobey him. Caressing his palms down to spread your thighs open, he slams them to the bed. Angry red cock bouncing against his stomach as he makes space for himself and situating to find the perfect position. 

It feels helpless to try to move and fight against him, weak in comparison to his built up strength and hard muscles earned from countless hours in the gym. It wouldn’t hurt to try, of course, but the second his length swipes between your folds, you can’t help but to forget. Folding your hands over your chest as you watch his stomach tighten and release, grinding his hips forward to fuck against your sloppy wet aroused cunt. 

“Hoon—Sunghoon,” you breathe, losing more air by the second. Burning up from the body heat building from his flesh to yours. 

“Feel good baby?” He asks under his breath, continuing to torture you with the sensation of his heavy cock rubbing through your folds. Thick girth gleaming with your juices all over. “Like how I play with your pussy, don’t you.” He says proudly, loosening his grip on your thighs to press against your stomach. Slowly trailing upward to massage your breasts, lifting his head to watch your face fall apart. 

“Can-can’t, please, hurts.” Hurts so good, to be so close without getting what you want. What he must expect you to beg for, hardly able to form a sentence anymore. You arch into his warm palms squeezing and bouncing your chest, pinching your nipples before he shifts to your neck. 

“Look at me.” He commands, deep and raspy. “Look at me with those pretty eyes.”

“Ah, Sunghoon, please.” Blinking upward, you gasp, taking in his sculpted jawline, long neck, broad shoulders and defined chest. He’s a dream, a nightmare really, too good to be real. Dark eyes boring back into yours from where he looks down at you, grabbing your chin to hold you in place. 

“Just like that, don’t fucking look away.” 

Everything around you feels light as air, as if you’ve been lifted from the bed, floating on a cloud as he leans down and locks his lips to yours. 

It’s the loudest kiss he’s ever given you, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. He works slowly with your parted mouth, taking time to really hold your top and bottom lip before teasing his tongue between. Throbbing racks between your pressed bodies, eyes falling shut as his tongue slips inside and laps at yours, at the roof of your mouth. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

Too much the way his body crowds you with no space of your own. Cock pulsating against your core, chest beating violently pressed to yours. Mouth moving as if he mapped and memorized the inside of yours. Weak shaky hands find his shoulders, wanting to push him away, wanting to shove him off and spit in his face for doing this.

Because how could he do this to you?! Soar your sense to their precipice of carnal arousal, wipe your mind of all sensible thought. Only to bring you here, trapped beneath him, sucking his breath into your lungs until tears burst from your eyes.

“I know.” He mutters, tugging your bottom lip between his. Savoring the hot tears rolling down your cheeks to his hands. “I feel it too.”

No. You feel nothing. There is nothing to feel. 

“What we have, what you do to me.” He confesses, nose pressed to yours. “I don’t want this with anyone else. I don’t ever want you to have this with anyone besides me.”

So wrong, all wrong. So wrong that it feels right. Blinking your tears away with no other choice but to squeeze your eyes shut. You can’t do this, can’t accept what he’s trying to convince you of. 

“Look at me.” Sunghoon’s tone sounds more desperate than viscous, pinching your chest from within. “That’s all I ask of you, see me. See me for who you know I am.”

He ruts between your thighs, reminding you to listen as the tip catches on your hole. The cry for help behind his command, almost pitiful.. burning a hole through your heart as you fight between your blanked out mind and a whirlwind of emotions. 

“Can’t..” you barely whisper, eyes clenched shut, turning to dig your face deeper into the bed.

“Because I’m not him?” He whimpers brokenly, forehead landing against yours. Wet trickles of sweat cling to his dark eyelashes, mouth turned down at the corners. “Because I’m not my fucking brother?”

Between the arousal burning up to your chest and confusion causing a frenzy in your head, you can only whine, scratching down his shoulders. “Please don’t.”

“Why?” Slowing down his pace, he grips onto your jaw, twisting your face to look at him. “Why are you denying what we both feel?” 

“We shouldn’t, we shouldn’t feel—“

“Who says.” Reaching between your bodies, he wraps around his shaft. Slapping against your center as a warning. “Who says you’re not meant to be mine?”

The intrusion of his entire size cuts off any response, neck arched up as a silent scream flies from your lips. He circles between your hips to mold your cunt to his girth, grabbing onto your shoulders for leverage. “Who the fuck said you don’t belong to me.” 

This is too intimate, not even breaking into an immediate ruthless rhythm as soon as he penetrates you. He’s slow, stretching your walls around his size to accommodate him and make you comfortable. Fingers travel to your clit, leaving you no choice but to cover your mouth to suppress your moans. He pinches, flicking side to side, not even needing to judging by the puddle of wet slick arousal pooled beneath your ass.

“Sunghoon, that’s—“

“Gripping around me so good, you’re always so so good for me.” 

Regardless of your crazed out of whack emotions, your chest tightens when he praises you. Looking at you as if you hung the moon up for him on the starriest of nights. He returns to layer your mouth with kisses, wrapping your thighs over his hips. “Please, keep your eyes on me.” The whisper dances across your mouth, gasping as he begins to thrust and make you really feel each inch. 

There’s too much heat and moisture between your faces, wrapped around him akin to a clinging vine as he builds up speed and pulls out to the tip. Burying back in to release a gushing wet sound, a splatter of arousal all over his groin and thighs. 

“No one,” he murmurs, huffing staggered breaths over your mouth. “No one does this to me.”

No no no. You scratch at his biceps, shoulders, anything you can catch within your reach. He can’t, he can’t fucking do this.

It’s hard to tell what’s shaking anymore. Sunghoon’s heartbeat, your limbs, the bed beneath you. Everything hurts and feels good, as if your spines been ripped out and shaken around. Releasing stored up pain and anger, bringing to life new fears and worries. 

“The way we feel together.” He ruts in harder, hips snapping fiercely. Splitting you apart from your chest to the hot space between your thighs. “I want this forever.”

“Fuck!” You curss, head tossed back unable to keep your eyes open any longer. The combination of his terrifyingly honest words and cock ramming into you hits untouched nerves. Each sparking fires to life inside of you, burning your ligaments and muscles as an insane pressure forms in your stomach.

“Exactly like this.” He speaks in a low vibrato. Vocal chords shakey as he cups your jaw and presses your foreheads together. Blinking the glossy moisture attached to his clumped together eyelashes to meet yours. 

More than fucking you, he loves this. The way you try to maintain judgment toward him and fail. The look that can only be described as love winning every time. With your foreheads stuck together he drags your legs up, hoisting the backs of your knees onto his shoulders to really make you take it. 

That drives you over the edge, struggling to breathe in the tight position. Panic rises with your wide blown out eyes focused on his, chilling heat surrounding that pressure in your stomach. “Hoon!—Sungho—!!”

The pressure explodes around his cock nearly slipping his free from the amount of wetness that bursts around his length, continuing to jackhammer into you through your orgasm squirting down to his balls. They slap loudly against your ass with each pointed thrust, burying in deep. Savoring your tight heat sleeved around his length through the release that exposes the whites of your eyes.

The little breathy ah-ah-ah’s echoing out of your parted mouth urge on his erratic thrusts. Mounting you like a bitch in heat to get his cock sucked dry. He growls, slamming in once, twice more.

“I’m cumming!” He groans deeply, throat cracking as hot release spills inside of you painting your cervix with thick white strings of cream. Slow to pull out despite the sounds of your whimpered cries, he circles and empties inside of you where he belongs. 

“It’s okay..” he mumbles, sighing and throwing his head back with one last thrust to really push his seed deep inside of you. “I’m here, everything’s okay now.” He draws free with a lewd pop, splaying his fingers over your hole to keep everything inside as he adjusts to press against your back. “Was too much?”

His drawled tone vibrates against your damp hot skin, turning to drag your nose down his chest and burrow in the safety of his fresh scent. It was too much, and it’s his fault. Failing to regather yourself once your orgasm passed from the intense emotion taking over.

Without having to explain, he wraps around you and presses kisses to your head. This is what you needed, even if you don’t understand that yet. 

He needed to break down your false wall of hatred for him, to get you to see that this is where you belong. Right here in his arms, swallowed by his love, filled with it, cheek rested on his chest that thrums for you and only you.

Tomorrow. You’ll wake up and have a real honest discussion. No more games, no more lies. He started it, and now it’s your turn to face yourself. 

“Get some sleep angel.” He whispers, already keeping track of your shallow restless breathing pattern. “I’ll never stop taking care of you.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Beep

Beep

Beep

The sound of Sunghoon’s phone alarm going off jolts him from his sleep. Disoriented as he jerks and rubs at his eyes. Instinctively his hand reaches out for your warmth, rubbing over the area your body had last laid by his side only hours ago. 

Of course you’d already left, probably had to finish packing away your toiletries and belongings..

Which is exactly what he should be doing right now, yawning as he taps his phone and notes the time. “Shit.” 

Sunghoon groans, toppling out of the hotel bed to grab the last few things he needs to put away, deciding to skip the shower for now and just hop in once you reach Paris. The plane ride wouldn’t be a short one afterall.

Besides, the light aroma of your scent still clings to his skin. Dry tear stains appear on his hand, brushing his teeth as he admires them and contemplates not washing his hands off.

This is different. 

This was.. exactly what he’s been craving, chasing after ever since the first time he had you. It’s different with you, natural and easy. Nothing feels like an act when he’s with you. He tried to make it work with Miyeon in the beginning when his father had set them up but there was never any real connection, no chemistry. She clocked him for exactly what he is right from the start.

Maybe you did too, but that’s the difference, you make him feel safe. Safe to be himself without judgment, because for some God forsaken reason, you still like him.

Thinking about it all makes his chest hurt, makes his heart race speed up. The way you say his name, touch his body, resist him and give in every time. 

It shouldn’t have been this way, his brother shouldn’t have ever been an obstacle here. He didn’t want to do this, not after the last time they argued over a girl and he completely ignored Heeseung for a year. It was petty and immature, but he was young and she was his first love, first obsession really.

Heeseung’s never put in as much effort as Sunghoon. Everything’s just so fucking easy for him. Who knows why.. maybe because he doesn’t care as much, doesn’t worry about things that are beyond his control.

That’s never been an option for Sunghoon. He can only care, that’s the only option he’s ever been given, and he does care. He keeps up a strong facade to hide how much he cares but he feels everything. There’s a part of him that hopes you see that- you get it. You relate and understand why he’s built up walls around his heart, because growing up with nothing but constant pain can only make you so hard. 

Sunghoon wanted to work through it, he didn’t want to be cold and closed off, but nothing ever seemed worth melting the protective shield of ice for.

Until he met you.

Heeseung would have to be understanding, besides, how could you want him after this? He’s so beneath you, choosing booze over your love.

Sunghoon smiles to himself, lips dragging across his knuckles. It’s his time to win.

Today is a new day, everything about today feels different. The air smells fresher, his stride lighter, the pressure he’s used to feeling on his chest gone. 

Assuming you and Heeseung have already made your way downstairs, he preps himself for how awkward this flight could be. What if you all get stuck seated together again? It’d be for the best to wait until you’re settled into your new hotel in France. You can all sit down and discuss this as mature adults.

Every part of him shouts against that- why the hell should he maintain maturity after putting up with his brother's unruly behavior for years now? He should rub everything in his face, that damn loser.. 

No. You wouldn’t like that.. your hearts too good. You still see the good in Heeseung, destined to believe his fraudulent facade of this nice emotional guy that just had a tough life.

Who can take him seriously? Their dad is a freaking millionaire. So what if their mom died, suck it up and grow some balls. 

Ah, but your feminine compassion would never see where Sunghoon’s coming from. He can be rational, great at negotiating, well trained by his father to set his bar high and demand all expectations to be met. You can’t come in guns ablaze, jumping off hot from the start. He has to play cool, get you to let his brother down easily, let you have your mourning period. 

Yes, everything will pan out wonderfully once you scrub Heeseung out of your life. Out of both of your lives.

“Ah great, look who decided to show up!” Mr. Park greets loudly greets. Interrupting his inner dialogue as he roughly pats his shoulder. “Slept in did you? Well, just in time son, I was just about to order the taxi.”

“Shouldn’t we wait?” Sunghoon looks at the elevator area again, expecting for you to appear any minute now.

“Wait for what?” Your mom asks, fixing the new luxury brand scarf tied around her purse. 

“Uhh, for Heeseung and—“

“Oh they left hours ago son.” His dad informs nonchalantly, motioning for them to move outside to wait for their car. “Probably didn’t want to wake you from your beauty sleep.”

“What?? Why would they leave before us?” Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow, throwing his bag onto the cart with the other luggages- not missing that yours is nowhere to be seen.

“They found a really early train ride to Germany last night. I told Heeseung to take a later one and enjoy the rest of the day here but he was really eager to explore Frankfurt.” Continuing to speak complete nonsense that Sunghoon can’t comprehend only worries him further. Annoyed by how evasive and casual his father speaks.

“What do you mean Germany? I thought we were flying to France.”

“We are sweetie.” Your mom laughs, confused as well. “Heeseung and your sister are the ones going to Germany to visit different universities.” 

Universities?! In Germany?!

Sunghoon’s jaw drops, blinking repeatedly, his father whistling to get in the cab before he can continue to ask more questions.

None of this makes sense. Why the hell would you and Heeseung be in Germany of all places, looking at schools?! He has to be dreaming, that’s it. Stuffed into the backseat alone, he pats around his phone, immediately finding your last text messages.

Sunghoon: ‘Good Morning, where are you?’

Text Message Failed To Send

Watching the green bubble instantly pop up confuses him all the more, tongue pinched between his teeth annoyed. Must be the international service messing up.. or maybe you really are on a train, somewhere between mountains where messages can’t reach you right now..

Sunghoon: ‘I thought we were going to France next, what’s this deal about Germany? Are you with Heeseung?’

Text Message Failed To Send

Fuck. This really a dream, a bad dream. 

None of this makes sense, not after yesterday, not after you fell asleep with him, curled up together in his arms..

“Hoon! What the hell is wrong with you this morning, hurry up.” His dad hollers from outside of the parked car, already standing with their belongings. “We have a flight to catch, wake your ass up.”

Shit, they’re already at the airport. The entire security checkpoint feels like a mirage, desperately racking his brain for an answer to what the hell could possibly be going on right now. Why in the hell would you be looking at universities? You’re both already enrolled for next year?

He has to text Heeseung, there’s no other choice.

Sunghoon: ‘Where are you?’

There’s no way he can get on this plane now. What’s the point if you’re not here, why wouldn’t you be here?! This is your dream trip, especially France. 

Heeseung: ‘Hey bro :) Expected to hear from you sooner.’

Motherfucker.

Sunghoon: ‘What the fucknis going on, why are you in Germany???’

Heeseung: :)

Gripping his phone hard enough to form a crack on the screen if he went on any longer, he growls, teeth grinding together. What the fuck is his brother up to.

Moving to a quieter area, he watches your parents sit down at the gate, biting on his thumb nail before pounding the key to call his brother.

“Sunghoon.” He answers flatly, not even bothering to allow more than one ring.

“Heeseung, where the fuck are you right now?! What did you do to her—“

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Heeseung interrupts, having stepped away from the fancy train cart his father purchased for the both of you to travel to Germany in. “She’s doing just fine, happier than ever.”

Pinching between his eyebrows, he paces back and forth listening to his older brother, palm swiping down his face. “What’s going on Heeseung.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” The older clicks his tongue, scoffing under his breath. “It’s over Hoon, this stupid game of yours. It’s done.”

“What the hell are you talking about man?!” Sunghoon hisses, slamming his fist against a nearby wall. “Where is she?!?”

“Away from you.” Heeseung says calmly, the smile behind his voice disappearing. “For good.”

“Heeseung.. you’re pissing me off.”

“Good.” He replies promptly, taking a deep breath. “You’ve pissed me off long enough, both of us. Can’t just let me have one thing can you?”

“She’s not yours to have.”

“She doesn’t want you.” Heeseung corrects snidely, glaring at the view passing by from the train. “What we have can really be something special. I care for her, unlike you. I can’t have you interfering anymore.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t care about her?” Sunghoon asks, throat drying, chewing on his lip. “You can’t fucking do this.”

“Watch me.” Heeseung whistles, checking the time. “You have a flight to catch in a few minutes I believe.”

“If you do this I’ll never forgive you.” Sunghoon grits, fist balled up by his hip.

A pause falls between the line, silently sharing a few intakes of air. “Goodbye brother.”

“Heeseung!” 

“And don’t bother trying to contact her anymore. This is over. I win.”

The line falls flat, dead tone ringing through Sunghoon’s head. There’s no way his brother managed to pull this off, and you? You knew all along.. even yesterday.

Slumping against the wall, he takes a long deep breath, checking his text messages that won’t reach you.

Sunghoon: ‘This isn’t over.’

Text Message Failed To Send

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

~one year later~

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Mmmhm..” you groan, rolling onto your side and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “S’too early babe.”

“Too early?!” He gasps dramatically, setting down a tray of your favorite food in front of your face. The aroma enough to fully open your gaze up and land on the plate adorned with your favorite croissant, sprinkled with powdered sugar and almond slices.

“You didn’t..”

“Of course I did,” Heeseung’s smile widens, on his knees by the bed you share. His chin propped on top of his folded arms as he leans in and watches you yawn away your last bits of sleep. “Happy anniversary baby.”

“You must have woke up over an hour ago to get this fresh..” you note bashfully, sitting up with a lazy grin. “Thank you. Happy anniversary. Can’t believe it’s already been one year.”

“Times gone by so fast, too fast.” He perks up, shoving the tray closer to you. “Drink before your coffee gets cold.”

“You shouldn’t have done all this.. you’re gonna be so tired at work.” You say between munching on a piece of the best almond croissant you’ve ever had. Moaning as it slides down your throat with a sip of coffee. “Here I am sleeping in while you run around Paris to get my favorite breakfast..”

“It’s nothing.” He affirms, moving onto the bed to stroke your hair away from your face. “Besides, I’m really sorry I couldn’t get today off. Really wanted to spend today with you laying in bed all day..”

“Just in bed?” You ask flirtatiously, lifting an eyebrow.

Heeseung bites down on his lip, moving closer to kiss your bare shoulder. “We do have the best time here..”

“We have tomorrow baby, don’t feel bad. Hate that I couldn’t get tonight off either, but at least tomorrow is all ours.” You frown, pecking his cheek. “One day doesn’t make that big of a difference.”

“Tomorrow, you’re not ready for what I have in store for you tomorrow..” Heeseung grins mischievously, getting up already dressed for work. Bending in to plant a kiss on your lips, he lets out a sad sigh, standing up and nodding to the tray of food. “Eat.”

“See you later, baby love.” As much as you try to smile, you can’t stop the corners of your lips from dragging down as you get up to hug him and wave him off from the front door of your shared loft.

It’s been a year now of taking the train to school together. Venturing around the city of your dreams, of holding hands and stealing kisses in dark corners. A year of peace, dreams you couldn’t have foreseen coming to fruition without Heeseung by your side.

A year of a healthy, calming, nice relationship.

365 days of photos in frames, nights falling asleep on the couch, lying to your parents via email, text messages, international phone calls..

Well, it’s not completely lying if you never claimed to not share a bed with your step-brother. Your parents know that you live together, they don’t need to know the details.

A year of introducing Heeseung as your boyfriend and not your step-brother.

A year of smiles, laughs, hours and hours of love making..

A year without his presence. Without mentioning him again, erasing his existence, pretending that what led you here in the first place had nothing to do with him..

A year to figure yourself out, all thanks to Heeseung’s help. Without him you’d really be lost still, tugged between two different paths that could have altered your current present. 

It hasn’t been easy, but this relationship has really taught you to learn how to compromise now that you’ve been serious, going on ten months of calling it official. Heeseung respected your wishes to take it slow despite how you started off, really proved himself and got help. Fully committed to you, and hasn't touched alcohol since your time in Italy.  

This is what you deserve to have, the most loving gorgeous boyfriend who adores you and worships at your feet.

Not some obsessed lunatic that blackmails you, threatens and manipulates every decision you make.. 

Things are good now.

Even as you sit on the couch in your dream loft watching old episodes of Sex & The City alone, you have to feel grateful. Carrie got her girlhood dream of Paris and romance, and you have too..

She had the Russian, and you have your step-brother.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“I have a gift for you.”

“Babeee come on! We said no gifts!”

“Pfft,” Heeseung brushes your whining off. He’s done enough from running you both a bath last night after eating the dinner you cooked, to the amazing croissants he woke you up with. “What kind of boyfriend would I be to not have something prepared for our first anniversary?”

“But I didn’t get you much.” You pout, following his movements as he unveils a neatly wrapped box from beneath your bed. “And we agreed to not splurge!”

“You deserve to be splurged on. Besides, I know there’s something you’ve been wanting to do ever since we moved here and well..”

“You didn’t.” Reaching for your chest, you curl into yourself to sedate your excitement. He sets the gift onto your lap, shifting closer to be directly by your side.

“Come on, open it.”

“Ahh, okay..” Heeseung’s smile only grows as you gently untie the gift, biting down on his lip when you begin to open up the box. “Oh my God.”

“It’s for tonight.”

“You got me tickets to Phantom at the Paris Opera house?” You knew it had to be coming. Never failing to mention that you couldn’t wait for the Phantom of The Opera to be on the calendar. 

“Happy anniversary baby.” 

“This is way better than what I got you..” you sniffle, clutching the box to your chest. “Can’t believe we’re finally going.” 

“But first! We have to grab a drink.” He exclaims, catching you off guard.

“A drink?”

Heeseung staggers for a moment, blinking at you slowly. “Coffee, to wake us up.”

“Oh of course, I’n going to need it after this week’s work load.” 

“Alright, go finish getting ready my love, I’m going to clean up a little around here before we head out.”

“Thank you Hee, I won’t take too long.”

“Take your time.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

These are great seats, a spectacular balcony view of the stage. They must have cost a fortune. You wouldn’t dare to ask. Of course your parents still provide some type of allowance, enough to cover rent and tuition, a few bills, but with the jobs you’ve both acquired they’ve really been hard asses about making you work for your ‘fun money’ these days.

“This was always my favorite scene.” Heeseung whispers, squeezing around your hand.

Little Lotte? 

To avoid being shushed by the elderly couple neighboring your side, you furrow your eyebrows at him in confusion. Who the hell loves Little Lotte? Interesting. 

Angel of music? The music of the night? All I ask of you? The phantom of the opera? The point of no return? 

You’d have to remember to ask about that at dinner later. Odd choice out of an immaculate score, but Heeseung has always had a more unique taste. Perhaps you leaned toward the more predictable, having gone through your various favorites over the years of attending performances. 

It was when you were thirteen attending your 20th or some performance of Phantom, you landed on a final favored choice. 

Maybe it was the surge of hormones, or maybe you were just crazy. But the point of no return struck a chord that evening that had never been hit before. 

The hidden lust, the fear, the desire and crave. 

Christine was the real actress during that performance, she put on an act, leading the Phantom to believe her feelings resonated with his. Switching the manipulation he trained her with against him, exposing his vulnerability before unveiling a monstrous face for the last time. 

The pain. The suffering. The tortured love that could have been a bountiful happy ending without Raoul’s existence. It’s so tragically beautiful. 

There had been a time when Christine had annoyed you, why would she purposely seduce the Phantom only to lead him to his hell, his demise. He loved her, he wanted to be with her, he needed her.

Even now as you watch her twirl around on stage, toying with the Phantom’s weak mind, you feel annoyed. She did it because of Raoul, she did it to escape him.

Past all thought of if or when, no use resisting

Abandon thought and let the dream descend

What raging fire shall flood the soul?

What rich desire unlocks its door?

What sweet seduction lies before us?

Heat springs to the backs of your eyes as they move in fluid motion, unlocking his hold to allow her to prance around flirtatiously. Each touch between them is barely there, begging to be more. The tremble through his fingers, shaking you to the core. It’s all so raw, too real, zoning your vision in on the blaring loud chemistry between them. The way he frames around her pleading to know the secrets they can learn of each other.

The first tear to break free and trickle down to your chin parts a gasp through your lips, back stiffened as you sit straight. 

Past the point of no return, no going back now

Our passion play has now at last begun

Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question

How long should we two wait before we're one?

When will the blood begin to race?

The sleeping bud bursts into bloom?

When will the flames at last consume us?

Christine’s temptress vocals swarm around you, repeating the quiet ‘I love you’s never said out loud, only screaming in your mind. The Phantom sways to her tune, lost in the act she puts on for him. Because she is his weakness, only she can destroy him.

Tears spill out faster when their hands finally touch, and she runs, she tries to run away. Because he’s a monster, he’ll ruin her.

The half concealed face comes to light, sharing a moment of silence between them now that she knows, now that he knows. This game of lies and manipulation is over, it’s done. And Raoul stands with a gun pointed, prepared to save Christine from this monster, from this angel trapped in hell..

Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime

Lead me, save me from my solitude

Say you want me with you here, beside you

Anywhere you go, let me go too

Christine, that's all I ask of—-

The most bone shattering cry of ‘no!’ racks a sob up your chest, jumping in your seat as the sound of a gun shoots off, and you know what’s coming. He has no choice but to steal her away, they’ve reached the end. 

“Babe?” Heeseung whispers faintly at your side, gripping your hand firmly, thumb soothing over your knuckles. It’s impossible to hold in your tears any longer, knowing the doom destined to meet their would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. 

It never gets easier to watch, the utter despair, lack of humanity. Christine turning her back away only to return with a kiss, a real kiss. The Phantom’s first real kiss from the only one that showed him love that his mother couldn’t.

Oh fuck.

Hounded out by everyone. Met with hatred everywhere. No kind words from anyone. No compassion anywhere..

Why, he cries, why?!?

It never hurt this much before, never made sense. Never once before could you see yourself in Christine’s place.

Because you would have never chosen Raoul. 

It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies.

“Here.” A sleeve lifts to your face, your near perfect boyfriend offering you a makeshift handkerchief. Because he knows what to do, he knows the right thing to do to bring a smile to your face. 

He once begged for forgiveness for his wrong doings created by his own Phantom. Never deserved any of what was brought upon him.

He deserves better.

You deceived me, I gave my mind blindly

If there is one thing you’ve learned through your matured eyes, it’s that you and Christine Daaé have more in common than you would have predicted at thirteen. You’re both terrible liars.

This is the point of no return.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You’re so cute.” Heeseung’s eyes wrinkle at the corners, dabbing off a tear clinging on your chin. 

“Stopppp.” You whine, huffing from embarrassment as you make it to your seats and thank the hostess for escorting you.

“I didn’t think you’d be this emotional.”

“I’m sensitive.” You mutter cheekily, glaring at him.

“Can’t believe you’re still crying.”

Heeseung’s smile couldn’t be more endeared, leaning over to dab your cheeks before another tear can trail down. He laughs quietly, kissing your cheek. 

“It’s a big deal!” You gush, fanning yourself to calm down. “Feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment forever.”

“You told me you’ve seen Phantom of The Opera hundreds of times?” He says, nose scrunching up with a confused look. “Weren’t you even a part of the theater club, monthly subscription and all?”

“Yes!” Continuing to sniffle, you playfully smack his arm for mumbling about what a dork you are, letting out a long sigh. “But at the Paris opera house?! I’ll never forget this. It’s been at the top of my bucket list for years.”

“It was really beautiful,” he shrugs, appearing deep in thought. “Music was great.”

“The music, the passion.” Sighing dreamily, you clutch your chest, reaching to hold his hand. “I could see hundreds of more renditions and none would ever come close to this one.”

The way you squeeze his hand in yours draws a smile on his lips, laying his other hand on top to sandwich you between. “I’d only ever seen the black and white film before. I guess that’s my one complaint, kind of expected more of a horror or thriller because of that.” He hums, lifting his hands to kiss your knuckles. “The way they romanticized it was a little weird.”

Romanticized?

Squinting at him, you lean in closer. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Erik, the Phantom.” He nods, looking you in the eye. “He’s a monster.”

He’s a what?

You can feel your face morph to one of surprise instantaneously, jaw loose as you try to register what he means. “It’s not a horror story Hee.. Erik loves Christine.”

“Loves?!” He laughs boisterously, dropping your hand to grab onto the dinner table. “No way you’ve seen that play as much as you have and think he loves her. He’s a murderer.”

“Wait wait wait, no,” shaking your head, you poke at his chest. “You don’t get it. He’s been mistreated his entire life by everyone. He doesn’t know how to love until he meets Christine.”

Heeseung blinks at you slowly with one eyebrow raised. “He doesn’t meet her, he stalks her!” He scoffs, laughing under his breath. “Wow, so you—you wanted her to end up with the Phantom instead of Raoul?”

“What? Of course I did!” You stress, attempting to keep your voice down to not draw attention from the others around enjoying their meals. “Everyone does, like oh my God? He loves her—he’s her fucking angel!”

Heeseung continues to laugh, scratching at his nape wide eyed. “Oh you’re serious. You really watched her get chased around by this psychopath who threatens and stalks her and got love from that?”

Well. When you put it that way.

“You don’t get it.” You slump defeated, forcing yourself to not frown.

He watches you for a minute, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I think I do actually.” 

Tension weighs thick between the two of you, ignoring how serious his gaze has turned, you fake a smile and glance around waiting for your order to arrive. “It’s just a play.”

“Right. It’s just a play.”

“It’s not just a play to you though.” He hums, picking at the basket of bread you’ve both been eating from. “You have books, listen to the soundtrack often, watch the movies.. you’re a big phan, as you’ve told me.”

“I mean, it’s all fictional.” You shrug, ignoring the large blaring elephant that’s entered the restaurant. 

“That one you read, that was like your little Phantom porn.” He snorts, remembering how you’d curl up in bed and proceed to feel him up after finishing a chapter. “Wasn’t Raoul his brother in that one? He was Erik’s older brother, right?”

Now, why would he remember that, and why right now.

“Uhm yeah, there’s a few renditions where the authors canoned them as siblings.” You admit, doing your best to sound casual. 

“I wonder why they do that?”

“Oh well, you know, brothers.. that’s like a thing. A common trope often used in fictional stories.”

“Only fictional stories?” He says playfully, keeping his demeanor calm. “So, who would you choose for Christine?”

There’s no more playfulness behind his tone, finishing the question with a tight lip, he slightly arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, I know you don’t get it but she should have picked Phantom.” You say confidently, shaking your head. “He brought out her voice.”

“From this play I’ve really learned more about her relationship with Raoul though, how they knew each other as kids.” He recounts, leaning in close with his chin resting on his palm. “I think she really liked him, she knew him. Their connection went deeper than the forced bond Erik manipulated her into believing they have.”

It’s pointless to argue about it, even if you have to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks and the beat in your chest speeding up. “You wouldn’t get it..”

Heeseung’s lips part for a minute ready to drag this out, slamming them shut and opting to lean back in his seat when he sees the corners of your lips sink down. “Sorry, I know you really love the story. Guess I was curious to understand what you love about it.”

“I love their love.” You sigh, nervously fiddling with your dress between your fingers. “That they connected through her voice, his music. It could have gone differently if she had seen him as a man and not a monster.”

“But he is a monster.” He reiterates, rubbing at his nape in disbelief. “He stalks her, hides behind mirrors to watch her practice from, he even kidnaps her!”

Heeseung tries to hold back his thoughts, but even he can’t deny the same eerie feeling that ignited in him when you broke down in tears. You feel bad, you feel bad for not choosing the unloved monster that took advantage of you, that somehow infiltrated your heart.

He knows it and you know it. The name neither of you ever mentioned lingers around your relationship. Unfinished sentences of ‘this reminds me of—‘ solidify tension between you whenever Heeseung pauses and nods as if to affirm your non-negotiated agreement.

One day you were in Italy, the next in Germany, holed up together in a hotel room too afraid to speak. Everything became too real when he pleaded with you to explain everything once you got onto the train.

‘Dad always wanted me to do more with my life.’ Heeseung had explained once you settled in your cart, hollowed lines heavy beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. ‘Hoon’s obviously going to be his successor, the next to run the company. I never wanted to follow my father’s footsteps. I wanted to enjoy my life, a normal life that my mom would have wanted for me. I promised her I wouldn’t let dad run my future the way he has with Sunghoon, down to even who he should marry.’

It slipped out before he realized, shifting his gaze away hoping you wouldn’t question what he meant by that. Their dad had tried to set him up with Miyeon first, laying out the plan that he would wed her someday and merge their companies. Sunghoon running the Park’s business while Heeseung married his place into the Cho’s. It was his perfect plan to ensure wealth and success, to prepare both of his sons for the future that they’d have to exist in without him.

Heeseung had refused, already invested in his relationship with Jina, Sunghoon’s childhood crush. Mr. Park yelled, screamed, deemed him useless and misguided. Ruined by the years spent with his mother, he turned soft in comparison to his younger brother who has only hardened up and built a powerful shell around himself under their father’s care. Or lack thereof.

Sunghoon sat in silence as their father threatened Heeseung, told him to pack his shit up and find someone else to house him, to feed him, to pay for his bullshit. The denial of his wishes never led to anything good.

The younger cursed to himself, sitting up straight. ‘I will court Miyeon.’

Despite their differences, they had attempted to rebuild their sibling relationship. They started to play basketball at night, occasionally laughing when the other would miss a shot. They’d work out together, even went out to a couple of concerts and parties together. Heeseung never wanted to cut his brother off, only respected what he believed to be his wishes after Jian had chosen him and Sunghoon spit in his face.

Jian was a year older than Heeseung, she introduced herself to him the first day at his new school. It was scary to enter a high school he was completely unfamiliar with, but smitten Jian made it as easy as possible, sticking by his side before confessing at the end of the day that she like likes him.

The memory was so innocent and childish, the leap into each other's hearts in less than 24 hours of meeting. It’s something you can really only experience once in your life when you’re young and haven’t experienced how cruel the world can be.

Heeseung’s first love was Sunghoon’s first heartbreak. 

The stood outside of his younger brother’s middle school hand-in-hand, giggling to each other happily about the titles of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’.

Sunghoon dropped his book bag upon seeing them, screaming out angrily, he jab between your conjoined hands and flew into a tantrum. 

Over the next year he got over it- he tried to get over it. All while ignoring Heeseung’s existence. Nothing he did could change the younger’s attitude toward him. Every remark held bitterness, every question carried hatred, every interaction left them both uneasy and anxious.

Heeseung tried to explain, he really liked Jian, and she really liked him. But Sunghoon refused to listen, scolding him for stealing the crush he wasn’t even aware of. It wasn’t the ideal way to rekindle their brotherly love, after being seperated during quintessential years of frontal lobe development. 

But the older never gave up, hoping that one day his brother would come around, and he did. They never really felt as close as they did as kids, but they had something—and that was enough. 

Hugs turned into nudges and pats on the backs. Sunghoon never came to him when he was upset the way he used to as children. He kept interaction at school minimal, and treated him more as a roommate at home than a brother. But it was something, and that’s better than nothing.

‘My father never saw eye to eye with me. I hated the whispers that flew around when I came back to live with them. That I was just this spoiled rich kid, son of the mogul Park. Sunghoon’s older brother who undoubtedly wiped his ass with hundred dollar bills. I wasn’t accustomed to this life anymore.’

‘Because you had been living with your mom..’

‘Yes, and she took us away from all of this. My grandparents mostly raised me, mom.. had a drinking problem too. She sort of unlocked the door to mine. I’ve been told addiction can be passed on, genetics you know. I wanted to save her but she abused her body day in and day out and I thought I could be better than that. That I could save myself since I failed to save her.’

‘You were a kid..’

And Sunghoon, both too naive and childish to carry the burden of selfish adult problems. Both damaged and scarred by the choices of the ones that were meant to protect them, keep them safe from these harmful coping habits.

‘I was.’ Heeseung had agreed, pulling pieces of his hair between his fingers. ‘I thought I could find the strength to let shit go, grow up without these demons following me. I couldn’t , and just like my brother loves to remind me, I’m a fucking failure.’

‘But you got help Hee.’

‘I did, after coming home one night after Jian had broken up with me before heading to college, I got wasted.’ He shamefully admits. ‘I fucked up bad, but the break up was so sudden, she didn’t want a boyfriend back home preventing her from having fun in another state. Not during her first year of college..’

‘I’m sorry..’

It’s hard to hear about your first loves first love, comforting your ego and trying to hide your jealousy. You urged him to continue. Hands held in both of yours, squeezing each time he found himself at a loss for words

‘We had a huge fight that night, Hoonie and I.’ Pain etched through his soft features, blinking back tears. ‘He’s hated me ever since, maybe he always hated me.’

‘Why would he..’

‘What he said to me that night, about our mom.. blamed me for not taking proper care of her. Screamed at me that she should have kept him, that he would have done what I’m not man enough to do. Just like Jian would have still been with him. He really beat me to a pulp with a few words.. after this I don’t have any faith in repairing this relationship with my brother. He doesn’t care if I live or die, blames me for everything that’s never gone his way in life..’

Unfair, that’s really the only way to put it. Unfair the same way Raoul banished Erik for his monstrous appearance to live in hiding, a dark family secret. 

Both born into wealth, granted a life of ease, both torn apart by their obsession with love. Heeseung needed his father, he needed Sunghoon, after everything he went through with their mother. He needed someone to treat him like their son that had been to hell and back, still alive to retell the tale. He needed the love his father denied him, the love his mother wasted away in favor of her own vices.

Sunghoon in-denial, needed love more than he can even begin to understand. He takes and takes and takes, never sees harm in his actions. The obsession to be loved, needed, wanted, cherished, it tears him from inside out. He covers it up with the most perfect facade. No one would question someone with their shit so together that not even a hair is out of place. 

Sunghoon.. banished his own true self, the snotty nose child that would cry in his mother’s arms. That clung to her leg screaming bloody murder when she headed in a different direction with Heeseung. Begging and crying for her to take him, for her to love him too.

They both are so so fucked up, and your presence has only put the spotlight directly on them.

‘I made a deal with my father, we’d go to Germany to visit a couple of universities, then Poland, Spain, France, anywhere. I researched a few of the schools with the best architectural programs. He was really happy to hear that- said I’m finally taking my future serious. And I mentioned how you always talk about studying hospitality and fashion, the luxury high-end brands that cater to the elite. From clothing to home decor and lifestyle. Your mom overheard, and thankfully jumped in. We started looking up the train schedule soon after and booking places we can stay.’

‘School? In Europe? But that would mean—‘

‘That we get away from him.’ Heeseung said coldly, forcing a smile. ‘That we can have a chance at a healthy real relationship. Me and you alone, no more unnecessary interference, no more worrying about what Sunghoon will try next to divide us.’

No more Sunghoon, his existence expunged from your reality. You had cried, uttered the words, and Heeseung absorbed each one, swallowed down your tears, let them incinerate his throat. He did this for you, for the ‘us’ you should be.

“He’s misunderstood.” You mumble softly, hoping to change the subject as your plates are set down.

“Ah, you’re right, I’m wrong.” He laughs sarcastically, brushing off the conversation. Well, this isn’t awkward at all now. At least you can talk about the meals you ordered, fawning over how good the seasoning is on the potatoes. 

“Try this.” You say cheerfully, reaching your fork toward his lips. He loves it, of course, you have a lot in common. Agree on movies, music, food, have even found your missing shirts in Heeseung’s pile of clothes. Down to the fabrics you both prefer, everything makes sense. Maybe you’re soulmates.

That’s right. Soulmates bonded together by the unforeseen marriage your parents would have someday, failed to be torn apart by his own brother.

“It’s a nice night out.” Heeseung breathes out happily, slinging his arm around your shoulder.

“Really is, the weather's great.”

“Oooh, this must be new?” You stop to admire a quaint lit up building, many dressed formally and casual entering while chatting and laughing. “Wanna check it out?”

Nodding, you make it to the entrance only to stop, tugging his arm close to your chest. “Oh it’s a bar..”

“Oh.” Heeseung swallows uncomfortably, taking a step back.

“It’s fine babe, we both have work tomorrow anyway.”

He still hesitates, shifting from foot to foot before agreeing that you should continue on your way home. It never gets easier, not much of a loss to you, other than the occasional glass of wine you crave once in a while. 

Heeseung’s worked too hard to stay clean, he does it for you. He does it for both of you. That’s how healthy relationships work, you can skip out on a drink for fun to help him stay sober. Even if it means missing out on Paris nightlife.

“Ah, I totally forgot!” He pipes up to break the tense atmosphere, stuffing his hands inside of his pockets. “Deftones announced a tour!”

“What!” You exclaim, wrapping around his waist to keep him pressed to your side, walking synchronized with long steps. “We have to go!”

“Ah, I wish.” He sighs, throwing his arms around your upper half. “You know every western artist forgets that Europe exists.”

“No tour dates here? Really?”

“Unfortunately. Another cool tour we’ll have to miss out on. Can’t wait until we finish our degrees and move back.” He says too calmly for your liking, stepping over your own feet. Nearly stumbling if not for him holding onto you. 

“Oh.” 

Move back? Since when has moving back ever been a part of the plan? Once you settled in France and enrolled into a new university, you never discussed the possibility of moving back..

“Can you picture it? I’ll design our first house, call us the Brady bunch the way I’ll be mapping out the blueprints once we find the perfect land.” He speaks dreamily, unaware of the meltdown happening in your head. “We’d have to move kind of far from our parents.”

And him. The one he won’t mention.

“What do you think? More of an oceanic view? Green scenery?”

“Uhh, ah fuck.” Clutching your head, you escape from his hold. “Sorry sorry.. migraine hit out of nowhere.”

“Ah, and I don’t have any medicine on me. Well we’re not too far from home, should I flag down a cab?”

“No no it’s fine, lets just walk. Think all of that crying just got to me.”

It’s only a few more minutes to your loft. Faking a headache wasn’t really the best choice, but one uncomfortable conversation had you at your limit. 

“Wish we had time for..” Heeseung drags on, smoothing your hair away from your face. “I know it’s late, you’re tired, I’m tired.”

Ah, the reality of modern romance. The false idea of work life balance can kill the energy you once had for hours of love making.

Fucking really.

You hit missionary plenty of times, laid under his weight, accepting slow deep thrusts between your thighs. Easier than jerking him off for 30 minutes until he cums. 

“You can keep it inside of me tonight.” You grin, not wanting to drag on the sour taste in your mouth that grows more with each thing he says. 

You’re annoyed, that’s all. Rarely ever annoyed by him but you can’t stop replaying what he said.

Move back, Heeseung wants to move back. He doesn’t want to live your dream in Paris. He’s not in love with the city of love, he’s in love with you. His dream is that you give up yours for his..

Love means making sacrifices, right? And you had your time in Paris. He even took you to the opera house. Why wouldn’t he start the discussion of more serious matters like the future you can achieve together? 

Maybe it’s because this is your first serious relationship, but isn’t it too soon to consider having a family? Can it even be considered too soon given the circumstances that led you to live together before ever committing to each other?

This isn’t a normal relationship, he still is your step-brother contrary to the description you’ve curated for him during your time here alone. 

If you tell him you want to stay here, will he still leave? He’s mentioned missing his friends, the food back home, the convenience of driving everywhere. Things you don’t dwell on much because you assumed he was falling in love with not only you, but the city you discover together.

Heeseung leaving you to fulfill his happiness could very well happen. He’d move back without you, build a home for his future family, find a woman who really deserves his love.

Not with you. 

Imagining all of that really does make your head throb now, pardoning yourself to use the restroom and clean off before bed. He follows you to brush his teeth before stepping out, patting your behind on his way out.

How naive of you to think this could be it. That you found love this easily, in what reality do people fall in love with the first person they ever hold a serious relationship with? Sure, it happens, but why would it happen to you.

Anxiety only builds as you wash your face and start to think about it more.

What if..

What if you made the wrong choice? What if you picked Raoul over Phantom?

That—that’s a ridiculous thought. You have to laugh, not even paying attention to your hand reaching for your drawer to slide it open all of the way. There’s a jewelry box shoved to the back, not hidden, not intentionally hidden..

He’d never know why you placed it so far back, never assume it’s because of the black pearls tucked away inside that make your chest ache whenever you allow yourself to glimpse at them. 

You never wear them, not since that day. He had said they looked beautiful on you. Taken photos of you, admired them and even saved some to his phone.. 

They’re cold to the touch, much like the faded memory of his smooth cool skin gliding beneath your fingertips. That stupid God damn day at the Vatican should have never happened. It should have been Heeseung.

Because Sunghoon’s smile from behind his phone as he snapped photos of you, the side of his face and wide shimmering eyes taking in all of the artwork, and the warmth when your bodies would brush together. All of it replays behind your eyes at least once per week. 

It feels like cheating at times, to still harbor feelings for your love's enemy.. 

You traveled past the point of no return the day you granted him access to your heart, and somehow that bastard figured it out. He fucking knew you were ready to fall from grace, allow him to lead you into temptation. 

So unfair, it’s so unfair for you too. Because you should have never made it this far with either of them. Lust and love read all the same when you’re riding the highest of highs. When you are also desperate to be loved and wanted.

You gave them both everything you could muster, and now here you stand, close to nothing. Close to losing the basket you placed all of your eggs in, longing for the one that maybe got away..

You should donate the pearls, pawn them off and buy Heeseung a new gaming console. Something to lighten the load of guilt weighing heavy on your back.

Heeseung may leave one day, you may never see him again. It’d be fine because you’d never have to wonder ‘what if’. You had your magical romance, and you’d change nothing about it really..

Except one thing.

Because that one thing will always be a ‘what if’, even in your next relationship you will find yourself flashing back to those memories you can’t part ways with. The hole that grows larger in your chest, you’ll try to fill it and fail over and over again.

Sunghoon, he’ll always be that open ended question with endless possible answers..

Gripping onto the pearls, you suck down a sob itching at your throat. He stopped chasing you, and you can’t even blame him. 

The guilt that encompassed your soul on that train to Germany kept your eyes wide awake as Heeseung slept against your shoulder. Leaving him behind in that hotel bed without so much as a goodbye, handing your phone over to Heeseung to erase his brother’s existence.

It was the right thing to do, that’s why you’re here one year later, finally living and loving.

“Come onnnn baby, come to bed.” Heeseung leans against the door, big doe eyes blinking away glossy moisture from needing to sleep. “Wanna cuddle with you before I knock out.”

“I’ll be right there.” You smile, swallowing the gasp lodged in your throat. Subtly shutting the jewelry box shut while hiding your surprise. He wouldn’t know who bought you that necklace anyway. You never said, never wore it, but the rush of guilt that hits at the thought of him knowing speaks volumes. 

He snarls playfully, pretending to bite the door frame. “Hurryyyy before I end up drooling on you in your sleep.” He winks, heading back to your bedroom. 

Wash your face, wash away the ugly thoughts invading your mind, wash away the worry.

Because you shouldn’t be worried, not about him. He doesn’t deserve your worry. As you clutch the necklace between your digits one more time, you have to ask yourself..

Is it guilt? Guilt because you left him, kissing him light as a feather before tiptoeing away, praying he won’t wake soon.

Is it resentment? Resenting yourself for feeling this way, resenting him for making you feel this wake. Enraged whenever you really think about it, the memories you should have never created together. This stupid necklace you never wear, that you can’t force yourself to get rid of.

Or is it really just pain? Because he never came after you, never showed up. Every glance over your shoulder filled you with disappointment. He stopped chasing you.. he really got tired of chasing you..

The reflection staring back at you trembles, blinking away the warmth collecting at your eyes. Guilt, pain, anger, and worst of all, love.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“I’m just getting in right now.”

Heeseung’s raspy tone radiates through your phone’s speaker wishing you a fast and relaxing shift. It’s not ideal to work the later hours but this opportunity to fill a position at one of the most prestigious luxury hotel chains in Europe has been a more than lucky honor to hold; knowing how the name would automatically push your resume to the top of future applicants gunning to snag the same job.

“Try not to stay up for me, okay?” You smile, pausing at the front entrance before heading inside.

“I’ll try, but you know how hard it is for me to fall asleep without you here.” He says in a tired drawl, surely wiped out after working. “Need to know that my baby made it home safe.”

“I will,” you assure, ending with your goodbyes and added ‘love you’s. Adjusting your top before pocketing your phone to head inside, you proudly strut in. Head held high, shoulders back, and designer purse tightly tucked under your arm as you make your way to the back room to clock-in.

“Ah good, you’re here.” Your manager appears, seemingly frazzled.

“Where do you need me today?” You’re fast to ask, immediately locking up your coat and belongings to get ready for your tasks.

“The empire suite.” He informs you, taking on a stern tone. “Have a very very important guest occupying the room, and just had a huge delivery brought in to be taken to their suite.” He nods to follow him, leading you to a trolley stacked from top to bottom with shoppings bags of all sizes.

Hermès, Chanel, Dior, Saint Laurent, Versace, Burberry, Prada. Any high-end designer brand you can think of sat there neatly organized into a pile before your eyes.

“A real high roller..” 

“The highest.” Your manager adds, handing you a key. “Do be sure to set everything up in their room in a neat manner. I’m trusting you to do a great job, and don’t touch anything.”

“You can count on me.” You affirm, taking a deep breath before grabbing onto the cart full of what you can only begin to calculate as thousands upon thousands of dollars.

“Yes well,” he follows, helping you onto the employee only elevator. “Be sure to give it your American touch. Our guest is one of your kind.” He finishes snidely, hiding a look of disgust with a forced fake smile as the elevator doors come to close and you’re left alone. Trapped against the wall in the enclosed space with the cart taking up most of the area surrounding you, you’re happy to hear the ding announcing your arrival to the empire suite.

The suite takes up this entire floor, has the best view in all of Paris, and since working here you’d only gotten the chance to see it once when you first started and had the new staff tour to learn the ins and outs of the hotel.

The fee for a night in one of France's nicest suites was enough to have your palms dampen up, dragging them down your hips as you reach the double-wide doors. The guests wouldn’t be inside, right? Your manager hadn’t mentioned that they’d be occupying the space at this moment.

Quietly knocking a few times you wait, nervously pressing your ear to one of the doors. “Hel—“ covering your mouth, you clear your throat and stand straight.

No. Calling out a ‘hello?’ Would not sit well with some snobby elite, would it.

Choosing to assume the room is currently empty you swipe the key and slowly push the door open. Tiptoeing your way inside to what looks like an untouched suite. From where you stand by the entrance everything looks as pristine and crystal sparkling clean as you remember, as if no guest had ever been able to taint the space with their existence. 

Waiting for another minute to go by, you begin to pull the cart in, making your way to the master room to begin setting up a display on a large empty table near the entrance. This would be most convenient for guests traveling,  near their luggage to store their new purchases away. 

Starting with the larger bags you can’t help but sigh to yourself in this giant empty suite. What a dream it would be to live this way. So spoiled and damn near gluttonous with your money, rich enough to wipe your ass with a Hermès scarf.

“Forever the Nomi Malone..” you say under your breath, setting down one of the Versace bags.

“It’s Versayce.” You snort, rolling your eyes. Being insanely wealthy is overrated anyway..

Who needs all of this really, it’s tacky in a sense. That’s why you’d rather focus on solid colors over brand names and prints. A minimal timeless type of fashion, where else to best study that other than Paris?

Even so, there’s no denying how exciting it is to have your own Chanel purse in your clutches, digging your fingertips against the leather just to listen to the sound when you retract. Everything about Paris has really been such a dream. The food, the scenery, the language, the fashion, the love..

How could Heeseung ever want to leave any of this? Isn’t it love and romance that makes home where the heart is? Of course these ugly thoughts hadn’t left your mind since the conversation you had the other night, itching to bring it up again but fearing to hear the truth.

He doesn’t actually think you’ll move back, right? He had to know that this is your life now, this is what makes you feel complete and happy..

And over something as minuscule as attending concerts. Pft, you can stream anything on the internet these days, and no concert could ever compare to the magic of the Paris opera house.. 

You’ll have to get real at some point, he could have just been talking nonsense.. nothing serious. Yeah. It’s nothing to worry about, he already uprooted his life to be with you. This is what he wants too, you. He wants you.

Nodding to yourself you place the last bag at the front, taking a few steps back to admire your set up. Ah, yes, quite the American touch.

Shaking your head you turn on your heel to get one more look around the room. It’s really as if no one’s slept in here once. Not a wrinkle on the king sized bed, not one single spot or stain on the floor, the furniture all in mint condition. It really all screams elitism, royalty even. Making you all the more curious as to who could be staying here right now, peaking around in hopes of finding some type of clue. It’d be too much to open the closet for a look. Don’t touch anything.. 

Resisting your curious fingers, you turn toward the ceiling to floor window to take in the view one more time. The view alone could really convince you to pay the large sum for a one night stay. Who could sleep with a sight like this? The entire vicinity of Paris illuminated before your eyes where you stand peacefully watching the hustle and bustle of night life. Bars and restaurants that stay open late into the night, bike riders rushing through the streets on their way somewhere that seems urgent to get to, street vendors and tourists haggling amidst the daily routines of Parisians just trying to get by.

It’s something really, the city life. Stress, fast-pace, and yet an attitude of relaxed nature surrounding the Eiffel Tower. 

“Beautiful..” you whisper, lightly pressing your fingertips against the glass. Quality glass that keeps the heat and cold out enough to stand as close to it as possible without shivering, reminding you of how much detail went into creating this experience for only the most superior of guests.

“As beautiful as I remember.”

It’s the vibrato that races down your spine from the lips grazing your nape that has you jumping out of your skin. Palms flattened against the window as you let out a frightened shriek and your eyes go wide.

That voice. That voice that can only be heard in your darkest of dreams. The same one that keeps you up at night scrolling through your phone for hours attempting to distract yourself from your relentless thoughts. 

It can’t be. 

It can’t be him.

“More beautiful,” he whispers, grasping your waist tightly. “How can you not be after all this time. Thought that you could run away from me so easily, did you?”

The only way to describe your chest is hollow, empty, dried up. Gasping for air as your hands drag down the glass and he presses your back flush to his chest, chin hooked over your shoulder. “You really think I’d let you get away so easily? After everything you put me through.”

There’s no way that it’s him.

“You really painted me out to be the villain in this story, didn’t you?” He hums, mouth moving along the bare side of your throat. “He managed to get in that head of yours better than I could, and yet I am somehow the bad guy.”

Squeezing his hands around you tighter only traps your air flow even more, choking on your spit with your eyes lowered to the floor. Too afraid to look up and see the reflection you refuse to believe could be staring back at you through the window glass.

“You have nothing to say for yourself? Nothing after a year?”

Help? Would that be a proper response right now. Half expecting the tip of a gun or knife to meet your spine if you dare to speak, you can’t contain the choked out sob that emits as your lips part open.

“Ah, you must be thrilled to see me.” He mocks, pulling you away from the window. “Can’t even find the words to express yourself.”

Manhandling you onto the bed, he forces your weight down to sit, unable to not look at him as he grips your jaw and forces your eyes up.

Sunghoon.

It’s really him. A little aged, jawline sharper than ever, shoulders broader in size.. he looks as breathtaking as ever, even with a tight scowl wrinkling the skin between his eyebrows.

“As much as I love to watch you cry,” he snickers, gently turning your face side to side to inspect how much you’ve changed. “No time for sappy moments now. That’s not why I’m here.” 

It’s only then that you notice the rings adorning his slim fingers, stepping back to stand tall above you, he folds his hands over his stomach, appearing more menacing than you remember. A cold stare blaring down on you hard enough to freeze you in place.

“Speak now darling.” He smirks, pacing backward toward the table you set up full of items. “You wish to deprive me of your voice still? You know how long the flight here is, especially without your warm cunt to entertain me.”

“But, how?” You stammer, wiping your cheeks clean of the few tears that managed to escape amidst your shock. “How did you—“

Turning sharply, he sits against the table, toying with a small bag. “Don’t ask me stupid questions.” He grits, unraveling a small box wrapped up in ribbons. “You know that I always knew where you were.” 

Pushing off, he opens up the box, showing off fancy chocolates organized inside before popping one inside of his mouth. “The proper question is why now? Why after all of this time.” Beginning to pace before you, he nods, shoving another chocolate in his mouth. 

“It was no easy task.” Sunghoon hums, waving a hand mid-air as he starts to explain. Intense glare unwavering from where you sit. “To stay away for so long, to allow my brother to live so peacefully. To resist the incessant desires pounding through my head each and every day to seek my revenge.”

Slowly scanning you from head to toe he nods, throwing the now empty box of sweets aside. Reaching inside of his pockets he slowly draws free gloves, black velvety gloves that he drags onto his finger ominously. The tightness in his jaw sends shivers up your spine, gulping as he snaps the second glove on.

“I hated you, despised your being, loathed your existence.” He spits, teeth gritted. “I cared so deeply for months and months, killed myself at the gym trying to erase you. I tried to sweat you out, scrub you off of my skin, delete your memory. But you’re everywhere, my shower, my bedroom, even at fucking school I had to ignore the ghost of you.”

The scowl wrinkling his smooth face deepens, nostrils flaring as he stops to glare down at you. “You.. you tried my patience.”

Make your choice. 

A small gasp escapes, it’s as if you’ve reached the end. Your own Phantom whisking you away, threatening you one last time to choose wisely, to choose wrongly.

“It’s unbecoming for me to fall in love.” He scoffs, waving toward your face. “And I had to ask myself if that’s what I feel, because it’s so foreign to me. I had to wonder why you’d even indulge me only to end up running off with him. Perhaps you were the villain here all along.

“Sunghoon..” you whisper shakily, struggling to breathe.

“The hardest part, all of this time..” he smooths three gloved fingers across your jaw, cupping your chin. “Staying away from you.. no contact, not a word. I knew it’d be worth it. All of this would be worth it, the bargaining and negotiating with my father. Counting down the days, marking off my calendar, ignoring the sound of your voice whenever your mother would put you on speaker. I knew that one day soon we’d be together again.”

He sighs, thumb dipping against the middle of your chin. “What a shame that after everything you’ve put me through I still can’t stop myself from thinking of how beautiful you look. How he had a year of this, of you belonging to him. Of spreading your thighs open, of kissing your lips whenever he wants”

“What—what do you want?”

Sunghoon’s teeth grind, reaching for his pocket again, his hold on your face remaining light enough to break free if you wish. It doesn’t help calm your nerves, watchfully following his slow movements before searching for your nearest escape.

“Please, d-don’t hurt me.. please!” You blurt, lips trembling.

His eyes widen, sharp gaze forming to one of offense and shock. “Hurt you?” He says in a raised tone, causing you to cower into yourself. “Hurt you? You dare to ask me to not hurt you? Is that why you think I’m here?”

Yes? You peer up anxiously, arms wrapping around your waist. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please..”

Clicking his tongue, he takes a step back and sinks down to look up at you, lifting one hand up to cup your face and stroke fresh tears away. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He informs, frowning. “Besides, I could never hurt you the way that you’ve hurt me. No. I could never, unfortunately.”

Dropping his hand, he looks away, taking deep breaths as his tongue drags across the backs of his teeth. “The way you played me like a damn fool.. I was impressed, really.” Looking back at your surprised expression, he cocks a dark eyebrow. “I told you, we’re more alike than you may want to accept. What you did to me—I was furious. That flight back home, I really wanted to ruin your life. Even looked up flights to Germany, but I decided against it.”

He laughs breathily, head dropping back, blinking away hot moisture that hits the backs of his eyes. “I went home and I thought about it. I thought about everything, you and me. Why I was so fucking hung up. I thought about you and him…” he says quietly, neck cracking to one side. “Ate away at me for weeks, I couldn’t move on. I know you felt what I felt..” 

Shifting onto one knee, his gaze finds yours, taking one of your hands in his. “And after a few months of hating you, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I know you felt what I felt, call me crazy, call me the worst person you’ve ever met. A fucking nightmare you can’t outrun.” He pulls your hand closer, lips grazing your knuckles. “But I’d never deny my heart that screams your name the way you tune out your own. Maybe I am crazy.” 

He looks at you, stone cold, every emotion passing across his gaze. “Or maybe you made me crazy.”

Fear shifts to confusion the longer you maintain eye contact, tempted to pull your hand away as he reaches for his pocket once again. “I never hated you, even after what you did to me. Drove me insane really, how I couldn’t stop thinking about you.. couldn’t get over you.”

Clearing his throat, he straightens out, gingerly holding your hand. “I came here with one mission, and I have no intention to fail. I’m not leaving without you. Not again, no more.

“What? What do you—“

“I want you, I want us.” Sunghoon affirms, unfolding his fist to reveal a small leather box, snapping it open leaving you breathless. “And I won’t allow you to make this mistake again.”

The diamond ring shines all around, glittery light reflecting off against the glove covering his palm, using his thumb and index finger to take it out. “I’m here because you belong with me, we both know it.”

“I don’t—“

“You belong with me.” He cuts you off, throat bobbing to evaporate the itch rising. “In my arms, by my side, hand held in mine. I want to wake up by your side, want you to be the last smile I see before I shut my eyes for the night. I want to smell you all around me, to find your lost hairs stuck to my clothes, to be greeted by your shoes near the front door. I want to hear your complaints, I want to eradicate every sad pout that forms on your lips. I want and want and want, and I won’t stop. I won’t give up on what my heart believes is real.”

A moment of vulnerability flashes across his gaze, eyebrows furrowing together, lifting the ring to glide onto your finger. “Marry me.”

Biting back a smile, one single tear escapes, slowly sliding down his unblemished pale skin. The stain of residue elicits a tightness in your chest, finally pulling your hand away from his and clutching your wrist.

“Please,” he swallows, mouth gone dry. “Say yes.” 

Standing back up, he grabs your waist to get up, rubbing up and down your sides before leaning in to whisper along your lips. “Marry me.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NEXT—> Epilogue(coming soon)