i ♡ sana

PARK JONGSEONG

The thing about Jay is that he possesses this intense borderline terrifying level of dedication to things that don’t actually matter, which is exactly how you found yourself trapped in the kitchen at three in the morning watching him meticulously measure out ingredients for a pancake recipe he swore he’d perfected in his sleep. You were supposed to be having a serious conversation about your upcoming wedding seating arrangement—a topic that had already caused three minor arguments earlier that evening—but he completely derailed the tension by declaring that he couldn't think on an empty stomach. Now, he’s standing there in his oversized gray sweats, treating a simple breakfast batter like it’s a Michelin-star final exam, completely ignoring the stack of unfinished invitations on the counter. Every time you try to bring up your cousin's dietary restrictions, he just slides a freshly cooked, perfectly golden pancake onto your plate and commands you to eat, acting as though a carbohydrate overload is the universal fix for pre-marital stress. It’s infuriating how easily he deflects the heavy stuff with domestic stubbornness, but watching the rigid tension slowly drain from his shoulders as you take a bite makes you realize he’s just trying to take care of you the only way he knows how.

SIM JAEYUN

It’s genuinely hilarious how Jake can handle an audience of thousands without breaking a sweat, yet the moment you mention a minor detail about the wedding registry, he turns into a ball of frantic energy that is almost impossible to contain. You were just sitting on the living room rug, minding your own business and scrolling through dinnerware sets, when he suddenly dropped down next to you and started aggressively debating the merits of bone china versus stoneware. He’s so deeply invested in the most mundane aspects of your shared future that it almost feels like he’s trying to manifest the actual wedding day through sheer willpower alone, leaning over your shoulder so close that his damp hair drips onto your screen. When you laugh and tell him to calm down because it’s just plates, he gets this incredibly serious, wide-eyed look on his face and insists that "every single meal we eat for the next fifty years" matters, which instantly melts whatever annoyance you had. He has this knack for making even the most boring adult responsibilities feel like a thrilling adventure that you can't help but want to jump into headfirst.

PARK SUNGHOON

Sunghoon has this maddening habit of retreating into a shell of icy silence whenever he’s overwhelmed, which usually leaves you guessing whether he’s actually upset or just completely drained from his schedule. Tonight was supposed to be your first proper date night in over a month, but instead of the lively dinner you’d envisioned, you’re stuck sitting across from him in a quiet corner booth while he picks at his food with a look of total detachment. Just when you’re about to call it a night and assume he’d rather be anywhere else, he reaches across the table under the cover of the long tablecloth, his fingers catching yours and squeezing them so tightly it almost hurts. It’s such a sharp contrast to his cold expression that it catches you entirely off guard, making you realize that his silence isn't a withdrawal from you, but rather his way of anchoring himself when everything else is moving too fast. He won’t say a word about the pressure he’s under, and he’ll probably act like this lingering touch never happened once you leave the restaurant, but that single gesture tells you everything you actually need to know about where you stand with him.

KIM SUNOO

There’s a specific brand of dramatic flair that Sunoo brings to your engagement that you’re convinced no one else on earth could replicate, especially on mornings when he decides he requires an absurd amount of attention. You were trying to get through a remote work call on the couch, explicitly telling him beforehand that you needed just twenty minutes of uninterrupted silence, but that apparently translated in his mind to "please test my acting skills." He spent the entire duration of your meeting pacing silently in front of the coffee table, sighing heavily at regular intervals. The moment you hang up, he practically collapses onto your lap with a theatrical groan, complaining that your neglect has physically weakened him and demanding that you take him out for iced coffee to make up for it. It’s impossible to keep a straight face around him when he’s being this unashamedly needy, and even though you should probably scold him for ruining your focus, you just end up burying your face in his hair, completely defeated by how effortlessly he twists you around his finger.

YANG JUNGWON

Jungwon treats his role as your fiancé with the kind of responsible analytical precision that makes you forget he’s actually younger than you sometimes, which can be both incredibly endearing and mildly suffocating. You had a minor cold over the weekend, nothing serious enough to warrant medical attention, but he somehow caught wind of it and turned your apartment into a makeshift recovery ward before you could even protest. He’s got this little notebook where he’s literally logging the times he gives you vitamin C and checking your temperature with a thermometer every two hours, moving around the bedroom with this focused efficiency that leaves no room for argument. When you try to sit up and tell him that you’re perfectly fine to go make your own tea, he just presses a firm hand against your shoulder, gives you that look that usually commands an entire management team, and orders you back under the covers without a single trace of hesitation. You want to roll your eyes at how overly bossy he’s being over a simple sniffle, but the anxious twitch in his jaw tells you he’s just terrified of seeing you unwell, making you sink back into the pillows and let him play the protector.

NISHIMURA RIKI

Trying to get a straight answer out of Ni-ki regarding anything related to wedding planning is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, mostly because he expresses affection through a constant barrage of teasing and deflection. You were trying to get him to look at suit options on your laptop, but he kept sliding his phone over your screen to show you ridiculous memes he found funny, completely derailing the task at hand. Just as you’re about to close the laptop in frustration and tell him to handle it himself if he doesn’t care, he suddenly snatches your wrist, pulling you off the chair and directly into his chest with a sudden, surprising display of strength that reminds you he isn’t a kid anymore. He doesn't say anything sweet or reassuring to fix your mood; instead, he just wraps his long arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin heavily on your head and swaying you side to side in a slow rhythm until your frustration evaporates. He has this way of bringing everything back down to earth when you start panicking about the future, reminding you without words that beneath all the childish deflections, he’s entirely locked into you.

You’re moaning and trying your best to keep your lips wrapped around yeonjun’s dick as his best friend of over ten years stretches the tight walls of your cunt open. You should be having a great time right now. You should be going stupid from the stimulation. But instead—

They're arguing.

Every time another stupid sentence leaves Yeonjun’s mouth, Soobin fucks into you harder. He doesn’t mean to, but Yeonjun is being so annoying right now. Poor bunny is trying so hard to be gentle while his drama queen of a friend continues running his mouth.

You're filled from both ends, body shaken back and forth between the two bickering men. They’ve been going at it non stop for hours now. Not even sex has seemed to shake them. It’s exhausting to say the least.

"You changed the decorations I picked, asshole!"

"Yeah, because you decided to pick them without asking me first."

"Well you would’ve just said no anyways, because you— ah— you have awful taste."

"Can you two please shut up! I'm trying to cum!"

You try to get them to continue focusing on the task at hand, fucking you, but they just grunt at each other. Soobin continuing to slam roughly into you, too irritated to remember to be gentle. Not that you’re complaining though, your sweet bunny is rarely ever rough. Yeonjun on the other hand is just simply too stubborn to completely let go of this pointless argument, even as he stares down at your pretty mouth swallowing his cock whole.

You’re so close to heaven, with Soobin relentlessly pounding into you as he moans and grunts and Yeonjun letting out the prettiest whimpers and leaning back onto his hands. You love having them like this, even if their endless back-and-forth is starting to get on your last nerve. Yeonjun’s mouth is slightly agape and his tie is hanging loosely around his neck, his blazer discarded somewhere on the floor. His pants are unbuttoned and boxers pulled down just enough for his leaky cock to be freed. You can’t see Soobin, but you’re willing to bet his hair is falling in his face and his pretty lips are glistening with leftover saliva from licking them constantly.

Even as you manage to shut them up for a bit, Soobin has started purposely slamming his hips flush with your ass, making you deepthroat Yeonjun. Which in turn, is making him whine pathetically as his hands dig into the sheets.

Soobin thought it was amusing at first, making Yeonjun loose his composure more than he already was to get him to finally shut up. But it wasn’t so funny when Yeonjun started obviously getting close to climax, his head tipping back and his moans getting higher and higher. He’s been nothing but a bitch all day long, he doesn’t deserve to cum first.

Yeonjun’s head shoots back up, staring daggers into Soobin’s eyes when your mouth is suddenly no longer around his dick. Soobin had yanked you back, hands tight on your hips. He couldn’t help but smirk seeing Yeonjun look so annoyed.

"What the fuck??” Yeonjun spits.

If looks could kill, Soobin would’ve been long gone right now. Yeonjun is not too happy with being edged right as he was about to cum so far down your warm throat.

“What? I didn’t do anything.” Soobin smiles, feigning innocence as his movements start to slow, more focused on getting back at his best friend than fucking you.

You were so close to cumming. But yet again, your momentary bliss is put on hold while the men argue. You could almost roll your eyes right now if it weren’t for Yeonjun gently grabbing your cheeks and feeding his dick right back in. Seems he’s choosing to ignore Soobin for once.

“Ahh fuck yesyesyes, just like that” Yeonjun moans out as your lips wrap back around him, his hands on the sides of your face slowly guiding you down.

“Feels so good, keep going please fuck— oh my god… You’re so pretty, so good at this” he babbles on.

You love when he gets like this, so pretty and dazed from the stimulation that he just talks and talks. Even in bed Yeonjun never knows how to stop talking.

Soobin however, does not love it. Even as he picks his pace back up and resumes fucking in and out of you, he’s distracted. And fed the fuck up.

“Will you stop— uh— talking please?” Soobin grunts out.

“Why should I listen to you? You don’t ever listen to me.”

“You think the whole world should listen to your stupid ideas.”

Your mouth pops off Yeonjun once again, this time to speak.

“Soobinnn, ‘m so close!” you moan out, feeling that familiar feeling building up in your lower tummy. Soobin’s thrusts have gotten brutal as Yeonjun continued to aggravate him further once again, his tip hitting and abusing your cervix over and over.

Suddenly the feeling of you clenching around Soobin has made itself known, his eyes falling to the sight of himself going in and out of you making him dizzy. He’s no longer busy arguing as he moans and snakes his fingers around you to work at your clit.

“Fuck— Yeah, okay. Go ahead and cum for me.”

Both the attention on Yeonjun’s cock and his words are forgotten now as Soobin’s tunnel visioned on making you cum. Yeonjun is not done talking though, and he’s tired of Soobin ruining everything.

“I want an apology.” he declares firmly.

“What? No way!” Soobin retorts, gaze averting from your dripping cunt back to Yeonjun.

You groan as Soobin’s pace falters once again, his fingers halting all movement at the absurdity of his friends words.

You’re pissed. If these two idiots would just shut up for one minute you would’ve came ages ago.

“What do you mean ‘no way’?” Yeonjun questions as he pushes his dick inside your warm mouth once again. “I deserve one! You’re the one who’s been a jerk all day long.”

“Me? You’re the one who’s been going around bad mouthing me to everyone just because you can’t handle not getting your way!” Soobin spits back, having completely stopped all movement now.

That’s it. You are sick and tired of your orgasm being put on hold over and over for them to continue having the worlds dumbest argument.

“Will you both just fucking kiss and make up?! You’re both jerks because you won’t let me cum!” You practically cry out, removing your mouth from Yeonjun once again as your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

And that may have just been the best thing you’ve ever said.

Were they finally quiet? No. But were they still arguing? Nope!

They couldn’t when they were too busy moaning into each others mouths as they make out above you. Yeonjun’s up on his knees now to reach Soobin better, thrusting harshly in and out of your wet mouth. Soobin’s no better, bullying his cock into you relentlessly. Both their paces barely steady, and you know it won’t be much longer before they both cum.

And lo and behold, Yeonjun was the first to go. Moaning loudly into Soobin’s mouth as he shoved himself as far down your throat as he possibly could. Your nose buried into his pelvis as cum spurts into your mouth. You could feel yourself getting dizzy, finally feeling the warmth build back up in your stomach. Soobin must’ve felt it too as his fingers reach down to rub at your neglected clit once again.

Within seconds another loud and broken moan rips through the air, and shockingly its your own. As if on cue, Soobin follows right behind. His hands death grip your hips, pulling you down to the base of his cock as he spills inside you. It’s almost beautiful, the moans falling from all three of your mouths, sweat falling from your foreheads, and no more pointless arguing.

Who knew all they needed was to kiss for all of you to come, and cum, together so nicely?

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he has never been late— not to school, university, work, anywhere— unless we’re talking about the blind dates his grandmother sets him on.

you make payment hurriedly while simultaneously texting someone. he snickers at the almost mess that you are ( although, you do look pretty nonetheless but he doesn’t need to admit that. )

jay just hopes you collect your order and leave.

but then your order gets called and you turn too quickly and slam straight into him.

“oh—shit—sorry—!”

and it happens fast.

too fast, gasps mingling in the air. the lid of your cup pops and suddenly— green, everywhere.

cold matcha soaks into the crisp fabric of his suit jacket, dripping down the front in slow, unforgiving streaks.

it’s quiet, almost like the entire cafe seemed to pause to see how incredibly you’ve fucked up. as if you weren’t having a hard time already— and your day hasn’t even properly started.

worse, he doesn’t even say anything. he just looks down at his charcoal suit— now with wet, green patches— then looks at you.

you freeze for exactly half a second before your brain catches up. “oh my god—i’m so sorry—wait—”

you grab a handful of napkins, dabbing at his jacket uselessly, making it worse, spreading the stain instead of fixing it. “i didn’t see you, i was—god, i’m so sorry—”

jay exhales slowly and you swear you feel anger radiating off him. and by the looks of it, he seems like someone who can have you killed within hours.

“this,” he says, very calmly, much to your surprise. “is brioni,”

you stop, blinking in confusion. “…okay?”

and the silence that follows after is way louder than the sirens going off in your head just a second ago. his scrutinising gaze and you stare back.

because genuinely— what does that even mean?

“brioni,” he repeats, slower this time, like that’s supposed to help, as if to make you understand the gravity of the situation and ruining a brioni suit.

“yeah,” you nod quickly, still patting at his sleeve. “i heard you. i just, uh, don’t know what that is,”

and he genuinely looks thrown off, like someone insulted his life’s worth of hardwork. jay doesn’t get it— how can someone be a complete mess and clueless? there has to be something wrong with you.

“you spilled matcha,” he sighs in utter disbelief and surprise. “on a brioni suit,”

“and i said sorry,” you shoot back, already checking the time on your phone again. “like, multiple times,”

your attention being on your phone and not on the matter at hand is already ticking him off. before he could say another thing, you cut him off, panicking— but not about the suit.

“look, I really have to go,” you mumble, shoving the useless napkins into his hand. “i’ll pay for the dry cleaning, okay? just—”

you glance around, grabbing yet another tissue and a pen from the counter while he watches, slightly stunned, as you scribble something down in messy and rushed handwriting.

and you shove it right into his palm.

“my number,” you say. “text me the price,”

and then, you’re gone. just like that, while he tries to process whatever the fuck just happened.

the bell above the cafe door jingles once as you leave, and the cold air rushes in behind you.

jay stands there, matcha stained, speechless, confused— he looks at the crumpled tissue with your number and lets out a groan.

what a great start to the day.

You were better now, in ways that mattered. Not kinder, exactly, not in the way that made you softer or easier to digest, but more patient and less convinced that every person who entered your life needed to be assessed for specific requirements. Maybe you were a bit classist in the sense that it has nothing to do with class, you didn’t care if someone was rich or poor, actually. You cared if they were stupid, careless, or suspicious.

You had learned how to pause and consider how people would react to you. Sometimes. On good days. With enough effort without giving more than necessary — you’d never give in work for people you couldn’t care less about. Your mouth remains a separate legal entity that needs strict supervision, far greater than your own, wherein Jake actually steps in.

Now, he didn’t have you tethered on a leash, because that would mean he had control over you, and Jake doesn’t believe in fairy tales. He also believed in dismantling the kind of patriarchal system that insisted difficult women only became lovable after a patient man sanded them down into something more socially acceptable. So to say your boyfriend has managed to tame you down and has completely changed you for the better of fitting in social codes! is bullshit and is something that would never happen. That was propaganda. That was something a man with a podcast would say.

It was more of… he had emergency preparedness.

Which was why, by the time you finished preparing food, Jake had already arranged the plates on the dinner table to help you out without getting in your way and letting you do your own thing. Forks on the left, knives on the right, napkins folded neatly beside each plate. He even set out water glasses, juice glasses, and, for some reason, wine glasses.

Riki stares at the table. Then at Jake. “Why are there wine glasses?”

Jake scoffs, like Riki was unreasonable. “For drinks.”

“She’s seventeen. She doesn’t drink wine.”

“I know.”

“So why are there wine glasses?”

Jake picks one up and inspects it like this was a very normal conversation. “For juice.”

Riki blinks. “Juice.”

“You can put juice in a wine glass,” Jake says.

Riki only stares at him for a long second before looking at you, as if expecting you to step in and restore reason to the room. Unfortunately for him, you are too busy adjusting the serving dish in the center of the table, making sure it sits exactly where it should.

“It looks nice,” you say simply.

Riki exhales, defeated. “She’s just coming over for dinner.”

You glance up. “I’m aware.”

Still, you leave the wine glasses where they are.

It is not that you are nervous. At least, that is what you tell yourself while wiping the counter for the third time, checking the food twice, and pretending not to notice Jake quietly moving around the dining area in the way he always does now, helping without getting in your space. He knows better than to take over. He only fills the gaps you leave behind, setting down plates, moving chairs, handing you a towel before you ask for one.

“You’re doing too much,” Riki says finally, watching as you wipe the edge of the counter one last time.

“I made dinner because she’s coming here for the first time.” You glance at him, and for once, there’s no sharpness in it. “I want to put effort,” you say. “She’s important to you, so I’m going to treat her like she is.”

Before anyone can say more, the doorbell rings.

Riki freezes dramatically — shoulders stiffen, his hand goes briefly to his hair, and for one second, he actually looks seventeen with his first love, scared because you’re meeting her. Your expression softens before you can stop it, watching him mumble a few things beneath his breath and reach for the foyer. 

You straighten, inhale once, and deliberately relax your face. Your eyebrows loosen first, then your jaw. You try to make your mouth sit neutrally instead of in the natural line that has apparently made several people assume you find their presence uncomfortable. You even relax your cheekbones, which is a ridiculous thing to become aware of, but you do it anyway — only to try and smile anyway.

Jake notices, obviously. He comes to stand beside you, his arm slipping over your shoulders, warm and easy. You glance at him, trying not to ruin your work. “What?”

He presses his lips together, but his eyes are already amused. “Nothing.”

“You’re laughing.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you making fun of me?” You glare at him, but unfortunately, ends up ruining all the work you have just done.

He laughs under his breath and pulls you a little closer, not enough to make a scene, just enough for his thumb to brush once against your shoulder. “No. You just look cute.”

The front door opens, which makes you and Jake both go quiet at the same time, though his arm stays comfortably around your shoulders while you immediately stiffen.

“Relax, okay?” he murmurs, low enough that only you hear him.

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re not.”

“I was,” you whisper back, eyes fixed toward the hallway. “Riki is making me tense. You’re also making me tense.”

His mouth twitches. “He’s nervous.”

“He said it himself, it’s just dinner.”

“I know, baby.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m literally holding you.”

“Exactly, now I’m tense again.”

He laughs under his breath, and you glare up at him again, which, unfortunately, ruins your face for the second time. He only looks more amused, his thumb brushing slowly against your upper arm as if trying to smooth the tension out of you by touch alone. From the foyer, you hear Riki’s voice, lower and softer than usual, which makes something inside you pause. He says something you don’t catch, then a girl answers, her voice careful but sweet. There is the quiet sound of shoes being removed, then footsteps moving closer toward the dining room.

Jake’s hand starts moving lightly over your arm, not enough to distract you, just enough to remind you to breathe when he can feel that you’re growing nervous too.

You’re nervous because for the first time since Jake, you care about being liked.

Riki appears in the doorway first, already looking embarrassed before anyone has even done anything. His hand hovers at the small of her back, not fully touching, just guiding her forward like he wants to be careful with her but does not want anyone to notice. That alone makes you want to be nicer immediately, though instinct comes first and you also want to make fun of him.

The girl, neat and pretty, exactly the kind of girl you expected Riki to like. Not loud kind of pretty, or trying too hard to be noticed. Just soft-faced and carefully put together, with her hair tucked behind one ear and both hands holding a small paper bag in front of her. She looks nervous and polite, but not helpless and boring. There is something bright in her expression when she glances at Riki, something that makes his ears go red when he catches it.

He clears his throat. “This is her.” He immediately looks annoyed with himself for a shitty introduction. “I mean, this is my sister.”

The girl smiles at you, a little shy but trying. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You make sure your face is still behaving before you smile back, lifting your eyebrows and relaxing your eyes. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“And this is Jake,” he says, already sounding tired before the sentence is even finished. “My friend. Her boyfriend.”

Jake smiles. “Hello.”

For a second, it goes very well. 

Riki’s shoulders lower slightly and Jake’s arm loosens around you. Riki and the girl steps further into the dining room and she notices the table, the food, the glasses, the napkins, the ridiculous amount of effort you had pretended was casual even though you really did give more than you would.

“This is really nice,” she says, smiling so wide and bright, then seems to remember the paper bag in her hands. “Oh, I brought something. It’s just pastries. My mom said I shouldn’t come empty-handed.”

“That’s sweet,” you say, already nodding in appreciation.

Then she adds, with a small nervous laugh, “Especially if it’s you.”

What the fuck does that mean?

You pause, though it isn’t a big, dramatic thing. To anyone else, it probably looks like you are simply processing what she said like a normal person. But unfortunately, everyone in the room knows you and knows that you are not doing that. Riki freezes first, because he has lived with you long enough to understand what careless words mean to you, his face going blank. 

Then you nod slowly, because the worst part is, you are not even mad. You are curious, deeply curious, academically curious, the kind of curious that has ruined evenings before because you’re an older sister who can’t let things slide.

“Sorry,” you say, still polite. “What does that mean, exactly?”

She looks suddenly unsure. “Oh. Riki just told me you’re a bit unhinged sometimes. So I wanted to put my best foot forward.”

She is smiling, though not plainly rude, she looks like she has said something funny and is waiting for the room to understand it as a joke. Riki seems to understand this too, because he lets out this small, awkward laugh, like he is trying to help her land the joke before you set it on fire. Jake does the same thing, smiling polite and easy, to smooth the room over, but his arm tightens around your shoulders, and he straightens beside you, casual enough that it might pass as posture.

You, however, are not laughing yet. You are looking at her, a little amused, even impressed. Because she is standing in your dining room, holding pastries with both hands, looking sweet and proper, and somehow still had the nerve to call you unhinged to your face before the dinner you made yourself.

Interesting. Very interesting.

You nod once, slowly. “Okay.” then you breathe. “Calling me unhinged five seconds after walking in is —”

Then Jake’s hand covers your mouth. 

One second you are speaking, the next his palm is gently but firmly over your mouth, cutting off whatever fire had been lining itself up behind your teeth. The room goes silent, then you slowly turn your eyes up to him. Jake smiles at Riki’s girlfriend like this is normal, like he did not just manually mute you in your own house. 

“She thinks you’re funny.” 

You make a muffled sound against his hand.

He glances down. “You do.” He keeps his hand there even when you glare at him.

Riki stares at the two of you with a mixture of horror and resignation. “Yeah. They’re like that. Sorry. It’s kind of their dynamic.”

His girlfriend looks between you and Jake, then at Riki, then back at you. For one second, she seems unsure whether she should apologize, laugh, or leave the pastries on the nearest surface and run — which is what most would consider the safest option, but instead, she laughs. It is small at first, but it turns real when she sees the way Riki’s ears have gone completely red and the way Jake is still holding you like a person trying to keep a cat from knocking a glass off the table.

“I’m sorry,” she says, smiling now. “I really meant it as a joke. I just thought of breaking the ice a little.”

Jake slowly lowers his hand, but his arm stays around you just in case. You hate that, you hate being treated like a rabid animal (you are, in this scenario, you really are). You inhale through your nose and fix your expression with as much dignity as possible. “I know. I understand the joke.” but you’re not laughing.

You nod once, polite. “I just think it’s very brave.” Jake’s eyes close for half a second. “It takes a lot of confidence to walk into someone else’s house shamelessly —”

Jake’s hand covers your mouth again, faster this time around. More resigned, like he knew the first intervention had only delayed the inevitable and was now dealing with the consequences of optimism.

You freeze beneath his palm, offended all over again.

Jake smiles at Riki’s girlfriend. “She appreciates your confidence,” he says smoothly. “And the pastries. We’ll eat them for dessert.”

Your eyes narrow, attempting to talk but your words are muffled. He keeps his hand there.

Riki, who looks like he is aging in real time, turns to his girlfriend with a stiff smile. “Let’s just eat. She cooks great food.”

The sudden rushed compliment makes you pause, which works better than Jake’s hand. Your irritation loosens by half an inch, and only then does he slowly remove his hand from your mouth, before placing both his hands over your shoulders and gently steer you toward the kitchen.

The second you reach the kitchen, you whip your head to him and whisper, “She called me unhinged.”

Jake reaches past you for the serving spoon. “Technically, Riki did.”

You stare at him. “And she repeated it. In my house.”

“She was just joking, baby.”

You grab the bowl of pasta from the counter, still whispering because you are civilized, apparently. “And you covered my mouth twice. That was crazy of you.”

He sighs. “I had to.”

“No, you did not have to.”

“You were about to call a seventeen-year-old shameless.”

When you freeze because he did make a point without having to rub it on your face, he then exhales a laugh and takes the heavier dish from you before you can protest, carrying it like he knows you’ll keep arguing better with your hands heavy. “You’re doing fine. Just be careful with her, she’s new.”

You inhale once, slow enough to remind yourself not to speak in weapons, then head back to the dining room with Jake following behind you, dish in hand and looking far too pleased for someone who had just done censoring. Riki and his girlfriend are already seated when you return. She sits neatly with her hands in her lap, taking in the table with careful politeness, while Riki looks like he has not breathed properly since he opened the door.

You smile again, because she’s new and you don’t want to scare her anymore. Jake catches it and has the audacity to look fond. You then sit across from them while Jake sits beside you, close enough for his knee to brush yours under the table, which you pretend not to notice.

For a few moments, dinner begins normally.

Plates are passed around, the wine glasses are filled with juice, as Jake planned. Riki relaxes little by little, especially when his girlfriend compliments the food and you do not immediately ask her for a detailed explanation of what she means by that — even though you want to ask just that. You only say thank you, which makes Jake glance at you like you have just performed a miracle.

Then Riki reaches for the tongs. “What do you want?” he asks her, voice quieter than usual.

She looks at the food, still shy. “Maybe just some of the crab rangoon bread.”

He nods and puts a few on her plate, carefully enough that you have to look down at your own plate to stop yourself from smiling too hard. Because it is sweet, sweeter than the teenage boy had ever been to anyone.

Unfortunately, Jake also notices. Without a word, he reaches for the tong, mimicking Riki’s careful expression so obviously that when you realize, you immediately swat his hand away.

“Stop.”

Jake bites his lip, trying not to smile. “What? I’m just serving you.”

“Stop it.” you hiss before you give him a look, but he only lowers his head and reaches for his glass, still smiling into it like he thinks he is subtle. He is not subtle. He has never been subtle a day in his life when it comes to annoying you.

Across the table, Riki stares at both of you. “Can you two stop?”

Jake, unhelpfully, says nothing, while you sigh and apologize.

Dinner continues after that, though with the fragile peace of something that knows it has survived two near-death experiences already. Riki’s girlfriend eats carefully at first, then relaxes when you ask if she wants more pasta instead of asking for her full academic history. Riki, to his credit, keeps checking on her without making it too obvious, which unfortunately makes it very obvious. Then she looks around the dining room, her eyes moving from the shelves to the framed photos, the organized sideboard, the little dish near the entryway where keys are kept. “I really like your house,” she says. “It feels so put together.”

You glance up from your plate. “Thank you.”

She smiles, encouraged. “Riki said you did most of the organizing.”

You are in the middle of taking a bite of pasta, which means the thought arrives before the social filter does. You chew once, swallow, then ask very casually, “Did he also tell you why I had to?”

Jake nearly chokes on his juice, the liquid gurgling in the cup though not loudly, but enough that his hand immediately goes to his mouth and Riki looks like he has just aged another five years in front of the girl he likes. Under the table, Jake’s hand lands on your thigh so fast it might as well have been an emergency brake.

You look at him and he looks back at you, eyes wide, expression painfully calm. His hand squeezes your thigh once, gentle but firm, because apparently this is what your relationship has become now. Morse code for please be more careful.

Riki’s girlfriend looks between everyone, confused but still polite. “Oh, I mean, he just said you’re really responsible.”

“That’s one word for it,” you say.

Jake’s hand tightens again, which makes you look down at his hand, then back at him. “What?”

He smiles at the table. “Nothing.”

Riki puts his fork down slowly. “Can we not?”

His girlfriend presses her lips together, trying not to smile, and the effort makes you pause. She does not look scared this time, because if anything, she looks like she is starting to understand the rhythm of the room. She’s starting to understand you beyond Riki’s unhinged stories about you, and for the second time, another person doesn’t feel like scurrying away.

That should embarrass you. And it does, at least a little, because you’ve learned social awareness. So you pick up your glass and take a sip, choosing to let the subject die before it grows bones and starts walking around the table. After a second, you say, “Sorry. Thank you. I do most of the organizing.”

Jake’s hand relaxes on your thigh and Riki exhales. His girlfriend smiles, warm and careful. “It’s nice. It feels like someone really takes care of it.”

That lands softer than you expect, and your spine relaxes so profoundly. For once, you do not make a joke out of it. You only nod, looking down at your plate. “I try.”

Jake’s hand stays warm on your thigh for another second before he lets go and reaches for his glass. He looks across the table, eyes moving between Riki and his girlfriend. “So,” he says, lighter now. “Where did you two meet?”

Riki pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “School.”

Jake nods slowly. “Wow. Detailed.”

You huff a small laugh before you can stop it, and Jake glances at you, pleased with himself. Riki glares. “What else do you want me to say?”

His girlfriend laughs softly, then looks at Jake. “We got paired for a project.” Her shoulders loosen a little more. “He was really serious about it. I thought he didn’t like me at first.”

Jake turns to you, voice low but not low enough. “He’s your brother.”

You nod solemnly. “Unfortunately, yes.”

His girlfriend smiles wider now, looking more comfortable than she had when she first walked in. “It was cute, actually.  mean, he was responsible,” she says. “During the project. He kept checking if I was done with my parts, and he fixed the slides when the file got messed up.”

No one says anything right away, not even Jake who usually teases the shit out of the younger boy. Not because there is nothing to say either, but because Riki looks so embarrassed that teasing him feels too easy, and maybe a little unfair. His ears are red again, his fork held loosely in his hand, his eyes stuck on his plate like looking up might make the compliment worse.

You look at him and feel something quiet pull at your chest.

Responsible and nice.

It is strange hearing someone else say that about him, not because you do not believe it, but because you know him differently. You know the boy who forgets to answer his phone, who leaves his shoes by the door, who argues about curfew every time. You know him as your brother before anything else, the one you have to keep taking care of. But she knows this version too, the one who fixes things, checks on people, and doesn’t freak out when there’s a problem.

You clear your throat and look back at your plate before your face can do anything embarrassing. “That sounds like him.”

When you glance up again, Riki is looking at you. Not shocked exactly, because he is not unused to you caring. His expression shifts, small and unsure, like he does not know what to do with being seen properly by you. Not just as someone you have to worry over, but as someone who could be responsible without you standing over his shoulder. Maybe you have been so busy seeing him as a problem waiting to happen that you forgot he could also be someone else when you were not looking.

Maybe you have been unreasonable, and once the thought settles, you look down at your plate and take another bite before your face can fully betray you.

Jake notices anyway. And so he takes over for you.

He sits back, smiling now. “So, what tricks did he pull out of his ass after the slides? Did he act mysterious? Pretend he doesn’t care?”

His girlfriend laughs, and this time it comes out easier. “A little.”

Riki looks at her immediately. “No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

You and Jake laugh before you can stop it, and Riki points his fork at you. “Don’t laugh,” he says.

His girlfriend smiles into her glass, clearly enjoying this more than she expected to. The nervousness has not disappeared completely, but it has softened enough for her to look around the family table without looking like she is waiting for someone to test her. 

After that, the questions continue, though you make sure they sound less like a background check and more like actual interest. The stories come out between bites, one after another, most of them harmless, some of them embarrassing, and nearly all of them at Riki’s expense. Jake keeps the teasing light, Riki keeps hating it, and his girlfriend keeps laughing in a way that makes him look down at his plate every few minutes like that will hide the fact that he likes hearing it.

The room relaxes in small things.

Riki stops sitting so straight, his girlfriend reaches for the juice herself, and Jake’s chair shifts closer to yours without either of you saying anything. At some point, you stop trying so hard to manage the room. Jake does most of the talking now, the three of them fall into conversation easily, voices overlapping, laughter coming in small bursts.

You let yourself sit quietly while you continue eating your food, listening more than speaking, watching Riki talk to someone who looks at him like he is not a problem to solve or a boy to keep alive through constant reminders. She looks at him like he is someone she likes, someone she chose willingly.

At some point, his girlfriend glances across the table and catches your eye. You know you could nod politely or look away or pretend you had only been reaching for your glass.

Instead, you smile at her. Not the careful one you had built earlier with relaxed eyebrows and softened cheekbones. But a small and sincere one.

And she smiles back. Something quiet settles between you, not approval exactly, because you are not her teacher and she is not there to pass. Just an understanding that she is trying, and so are you.

Later, when everyone has started moving around after dessert, the room breaks apart naturally. Riki and Jake end up near the sink, arguing over who is actually helping and who is only standing there only trying to look useful, obviously not wanting to get an earful from you. Your brother’s girlfriend gets pulled into the conversation for a while, laughing softly when Riki complains that Jake is “too comfortable” in the house, but eventually the noise settles behind you as you slip out to the front porch with one of the pastries she brought.

You lean against the railing, pastry in hand, and take a small bite. It’s good, soft, sweet, and clearly homemade, which makes you feel slightly worse about almost interrogating the girl who brought it.

The door opens behind you a minute later. You glance back and find her standing there, hands clasped in front of her like she is not sure if she is allowed to join you.

“Hi,” she says.

You swallow. “Hi.”

She looks at the pastry in your hand, then smiles a little. “Is it okay?”

You look down at it, then back at her. “It’s good.”

Her face brightens, visibly relieved. “Me and my mom made them.” She steps out slowly, leaving enough space between you like she is still learning the proper distance. You appreciate that more than you probably should.

For a moment, both of you just stand there, looking at the front yard while the muffled sound of Riki’s voice carries from inside. She breaks the silence as she says, “I’m sorry again. About earlier. The unhinged thing. I really thought it would be funny.” she winces.

“It was funny,” you say. She gives you a look like she does not fully believe you. You take another bite. “Eventually.”

That makes her laugh, small and careful, but real. Still, you notice the slight rigidness of her shoulders, and her fingers when they fidget with one another. She’s trying, that becomes obvious because you don’t recall anyone willingly staying alone in one room with you — not before or after Jake.

You take another bite of the pastry, buying yourself a second before you say anything too sincere. “I’d like to think that I’m not scary all the time.”

She smiles. “I know.”

You try not to snicker. “You don’t know that yet.”

“I kind of do,” she says, then looks embarrassed by her own confidence. “I mean, Riki talks about you a lot.”

You lower the pastry slightly. “Does he?”

She nods. “Yeah. He complains, but not in a bad way.” she says, laughing softly. “It’s more like… he’ll say you’re annoying, but then he’ll mention you picked him up from practice. Or that you made him eat before school. Or that you texted him because it was raining and he forgot an umbrella.”

Inside, Riki says something loud enough to make Jake laugh, and you remain quiet here. His girlfriend looks toward the door, her expression softening in a way that makes you pause, because you recognize that look. It’s the way Jake looks at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

“He acts like he hates it,” she says. “But I don’t think he does. I think he likes knowing someone checks.”

You do not answer immediately, because there is nothing funny sitting close enough for you to grab. No sharp comment or an easy correction, just the truth, standing there on your porch in the shape of a seventeen-year-old girl who somehow sees your brother clearly.

So you nod once. “Maybe.”

She glances at you, then says, quieter, “I like him a lot.” Her eyes widen slightly especially when you look at her, like she has surprised herself by saying it directly. “Sorry. That was sudden.”

“No,” you say with a chuckle. “It’s okay.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I know we’re young, and it’s not like I’m gonna marry him right now or anything. I just wanted you to know I’m not trying to get him in trouble or make things harder for you.”

It isn’t some grand statement, but it makes you freeze. It is actually the plainness of it that gets you, the fact that she says it like she understands there is something to make harder.

You are not Riki’s mom, you have never been his mom, and you will never be his mom. But somewhere along the way, between your mother leaving and your father forgetting the smaller parts of parenthood, you had become the person who checked the locks, remembered his schedule, asked if he ate, picked him up, got mad when he lied, and stayed awake when he was late. You gave up so many normal years to make sure he was safe, and he gave you so much shit in return, so much stress, so much noise.

A boyfriend too, apparently, which was still deeply annoying.

You blink once, but your eyes are already starting to sting.

She notices immediately. “Oh my God, I’m sorry.”

You let out a small laugh and look away, wiping quickly beneath one eye with your finger. “No, you’re fine.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You sniff once. “I’m barely crying.”

That makes her smile, nervous but relieved. You both stand there with the porch light above you and the muffled sound of boys arguing inside, just before you take another breath, then glance at her.

“He told me,” she says softly. “Uhm. Just. About your mom. And your dad.”

Your face stills and she rushes to explain, eyes widening. “Not in a bad way. He wasn’t gossiping. He just said you had to do a lot. That you’re strict because you had to be. And I think I understood that more after meeting you.” She smiles a little, almost apologetic. “I mean, yes, you’re scary.”

You laugh despite yourself, and she laughs too. “But not in the way he made it sound. It’s more like...” She pauses, searching for the words. “You were kind of just left with him.”

It ruins you enough for your throat to tighten and your eyes to grow wet again before you can stop them. She looks panicked again, hands up like she wants to hold you. “I’m so sorry. That sounded so sad.”

“No,” you say quickly, laughing under your breath as you wipe at your eye again. “No, it’s okay.” You nod, then look down at the pastry in your hand because it is easier than looking at her. “It’s just weird.”

“What is?”

“Hearing someone say that,” you admit, voice quieter now. “Other than Jake.”

Her expression softens and she laughs quietly, looking down at her hands. “Riki talks about him too.”

You blink. “Jake?”

“Yeah.” Her smile grows a little more embarrassed, like she already knows what she is about to say will sound too sweet. “He said Jake is the only one who can tell you to calm down without making you mad.”

You stare at her as she glances toward the door, then back at you. “I think I get it now. It’s just nice. The way he looks at you.”

You immediately look away. “Okay.”

“I know. Sorry. That was cheesy.”

“It was very cheesy.”

“But very true.”

You take another bite of the pastry, mostly to give yourself something to do that is not react like an idiot. “You’re bold.”

“I’m learning from you.”

That makes you laugh. “You’ll need it,” you say, glancing at her. “If you’re going to be around a lot.”

For a second, her face goes completely still. Because the meaning seems to land, and her whole expression brightens before she can stop it, which isn’t loud or dramatic, just this shy, happy thing that she immediately tries to hide by looking down at her hands.

Riki appears halfway through the door a second later, squinting at the two of you like he has walked in on a meeting he was deliberately not invited to. His eyes move from her face to yours, then immediately to the pastry in your hand. “What are you doing?” he asks, already suspicious. “Are you threatening her?”

You give him a deadpan look. He stares back, of course.

“I’m eating,” you say.

His girlfriend laughs softly and steps closer to him. “She’s not threatening me.”

He still does not look convinced, but his hand finds hers anyway, like he has forgotten to be embarrassed for half a second. She lets him, smiling down at their joined hands, and the sight makes your face do something dangerously close to softening.

Jake then appears behind Riki. He takes one look at the porch, at the way Riki and his girlfriend are standing together, then at you. He steps around Riki and comes to your side, his arm slipping around your waist before he presses a quick kiss to your temple.

Riki’s face twists immediately, while his girlfriend, however, makes the worst possible sound, somewhere between a laugh and a squeal she clearly tries to hold back.

Jake ignores them completely, looking down at you instead. “Can I steal you for a bit?”

You barely get to frown before he guides you back inside with a hand at your waist.

“Steal me?” you repeat under your breath.

“Borrow,” he corrects, smiling.

The kitchen warmer from the leftover food and the light above the counter. Jake brings you there gently, not cornering you exactly, just turning you until your back rests against the counter and he stands in front of you, hands on your hips while yours stay on the pastry.

He only looks at you, then his gaze drops to the pastry on your hands, just before you take another bite. “I wasn’t done.”

“I can see that.”

“It’s good.”

His brows lift, innocent in a way that has never worked on you. Then, without looking away from you, he leans down and takes a small bite from the pastry in your hand. He straightens slowly, chewing while eyes remain on yours. For some reason, that makes your face warm faster than anything else he has done all night.

Then, very maturely, you say, “Ew.”

Jake laughs immediately, the sound low and pleased, because he knows you well enough to hear what you are actually doing. You take another bite from the same pastry anyway, mostly out of principle, and his smile only gets worse. Then he leans closer, pressing his forehead down against your shoulder with a quiet laugh. His hands stay at your hips, warm and steady, keeping you there without really keeping you anywhere.

“You’re so mean,” he murmurs.

“You know what you got into.” You huff, but it turns into something too close to a laugh when he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then another, higher, near the side of your neck, soft enough to still feel like teasing. You try to keep eating like this is not affecting you at all, but Jake knows you too well, and the small smile against your skin says he caught it.

“Stop,” you mutter, though you make no actual effort to move.

He lifts his head just enough for his mouth to brush near your jaw, playful and warm. “Did she call you unhinged out there too?”

You glare at the cabinet over his shoulder. “No.”

“Did you call her shameless?”

“No.”

His brows lift, impressed. “Really?”

You swallow the bite of pastry and give him a flat look. “I don’t like how surprised you sound.”

His smile tilts. “‘Cause I know what I got into.”

You stare at him for a second before realizing he has only thrown your own words back at you, and you roll your eyes, but the smile slips through anyway. Instead of saying anything, he lowers his face and rests his mouth against your hair. Not quite a kiss, just there, warm and quiet and resting. You sigh and lean into him too, your weight shifting from your feet to him, and Jake takes it without needing to adjust.

“I like her,” you say after a moment.

His lips move against your hair. “Yeah?”

“A lot.”

Jake lifts his head just enough to look at you, and his expression is teasing, but his eyes are too soft to fully sell it. “Wow. A lot?”

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

His gaze drops to your mouth for half a second before returning to your eyes, entirely too pleased with himself. “I thought I was the only person allowed to understand you and survive.”

A laugh slips out before you can stop it, light and embarrassingly fond. He lets out a faux disappointed sigh, shaking his head but his smile is kinder. “Now there’s competition.”

“She brought pastries.”

“Very strong opening.”

His thumb brushes once at your side, your throat tightens before you can stop it. Jake lowers his voice. “I’m still the one who gets to hold you after.”

You only look at him, standing close enough that the kitchen feels smaller around you, the pastry forgotten between your fingers, his hands steady at your waist. Jake looks at you for another second, like he is waiting to see if you will tell him to stop.

You do not.

So he leans in and kisses you, soft at first, careful enough that you almost hate him for it. Your eyes close before you can think better of it, and the hand not holding the pastry slips up to his shoulder. Then his hand tightens at your waist, just a little, and the kiss deepens enough to make your thoughts go quiet. Your other arm finds its way around his shoulders too, pastry and all, awkwardly trapped somewhere behind his neck.

He laughs against your mouth, a smile pressing into yours. When you pull back to breathe, he does not go far, his mouth drifts to your jaw instead, and you let out a small, helpless laugh before you can stop it.

“Jake.”

“Hm?”

You tilt your head anyway, trying to sound annoyed even though you are smiling. “Behave. They’re still here.”

He pauses against your jaw before he laughs, low and quiet, his forehead dropping to your shoulder again. “These fucking kids, bro.”

You laugh properly this time, unable to help it, and shove at his chest with the back of your hand. You point the pastry at him. “You’re literally twenty.”

Jake lifts his head, face still tucked too close to yours, and shrugs like you have just made his point for him. “Exactly.”

He only smiles, then wraps his fingers around your wrist and gently brings your hand closer to his mouth. He does not even ask this time. He just holds your gaze, entirely too pleased with himself, and takes another bite from the pastry you were very clearly threatening him with.

You stare at him. “You have a problem.”

Jake swallows, still smiling. “You’re my favorite problem.”

Your eyebrows pull together immediately.

His smile drops by half. “Wait.”

“I’m a problem?”

“No.”

“You just said I’m a problem.”

Jake presses his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh because he knows that would only make this worse. His hand is still around your wrist, but now he looks like he has realized he is holding evidence at the scene of his own crime.

“I meant,” he says carefully, “you are my favorite person who causes problems.”

You stare harder. He closes his eyes for a second. “No. That’s worse.” He exhales a laugh. “Okay. You’re not a problem.”

“Good.”

“You’re just a lot.”

You scoff. “Wow.”

“No, no.” Jake’s hand tightens on your hips you try to pull away, though he is smiling too much to look even slightly sorry. “I like a lot. I love a lot.”

Your face warms before you can stop it. Then, because apparently he has decided to make it worse for your health, he shrugs. “I’m greedy.”

A laugh breaks out of you before you can hold it in, sudden and helpless. You turn your face away, but he follows just enough to catch it, smiling like he has been waiting for that sound all night. “You say terrible things.”

Jake’s smile softens, but he still looks entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m being honest.” His hands settle at your waist again, warm and steady. “You’re scary that I like. Mean that I like. Bossy that I like.”

You stare at him for half a second before another laugh slips out, softer this time, shaking your head because he is genuinely ridiculous. “That is not how compliments work.”

“It worked.”

You hate that he is right.

You hate that he is looking at you like that again, like every difficult part of you is something he has already made room for, and does complain about it. Like he is not trying to soften you into something easier. He’s seen it, and still somehow looks at you like you are the easiest choice he has ever made.

So you stop arguing. You catch the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the collar, and pull him down to you. Jake’s breath catches a little before your mouth meets his again.

This kiss starts soft, but only for a second. Then his hand tightens at your waist and your arm slides around his shoulders, the pastry still trapped awkwardly in your other hand, and you cannot bring yourself to care.

Riki and his girlfriend are somewhere outside. The dishes are still in the sink. Someone could walk in and you should probably be thinking about any of that, because it’d be embarrassing to be caught pressed on the counter like this.

But you do not. Your mind goes blank in the simplest, stupidest way, all because Jake is here.

Jake is close, the warmth under your hands, the smile against your mouth, the person holding you like he already knows where all your sharp parts are and has never once thought to let go.

So, for once, you let yourself stop thinking. You just kiss him back.

a/n: i have to say i found very funny that y'all were so surprised myungjae was part of the story... he's literally in the description at the beginning of every update, he's BEEN here for a while now 🤣

i honestly have nothing to say rn js i knooooow hnu gg its getting deleted but won't be the last you hear from this bitch (#jail) 😇😇 i'll give closure to all my hnu gg haters dw<3

❗ this is a work of mere fiction, the characters attitudes do not reflect at all the artist's personality here mentioned. © kazutteoks 2026

ᯓ★ ! taglist (1/2) ;

LEE HEESEUNG: (works: 1)

dirty little secret (popular boy x quiet girl) wc: 7.0k

PARK JONGSEONG: (works: 0)

SIM JAEYUN: (works: 1)

the giver (cowboy!jake, friends to lovers) wc: 7.0k

PARK SUNGHOON: (works: 0)

02. Juno

lyrics: “have you ever tried this one~?”

synopsis: your sex life with jake is amazing, but you're still inexperienced and too timid to initiate. feeling anxious about not being good enough, you secretly look through the kama sutra to learn some new positions visually—finally building up the courage to ask him, “have you ever tried this one?”...

03. Busy Woman 

lyrics: “but if you need my love, my clothes are off i'm coming over to your place~”

synopsis: both of you have been completely drowned in work these past few weeks, leaving zero time for romance. that's why you decide to take matters into your own hands, driving over to surprise him at his office late at night despite being a busy woman yourself…

04. House Tour

lyrics: “the couch is really comfy comfy~ got some chips ahoy if you're hungry hungry~”

synopsis: jake is always so busy with his job that he rarely gets to come home. so when he walks through the door early one night, he’s completely stunned to find you baking cookies, the floors waxed nicely just the way he likes them, and a very comfy couch waiting for him…

@ nishimmortal ⟡ all rights reserved.

Neither of you said anything for a moment.

Then Seungmin appeared behind you, one hand holding a neatly wrapped cake box and the other resting comfortably against the small of your back.

“Hi,” he said brightly.

Your sister’s entire expression changed.

“Seungmin.” She smiled as though she had been expecting him personally. “Finally.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him.

He glanced down at you.

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

Finally?

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Your sister stepped aside to let you both in, although she somehow managed to position herself so Seungmin had to pass close to her. He murmured a polite thank you and guided you ahead of him with a gentle hand at your waist.

You had been dating long enough that the gesture barely registered anymore. Seungmin was always touching you in small, absent-minded ways—his fingers brushing yours as you walked, his palm settling on your knee beneath tables, his hand finding the back of your coat when you crossed a road.

It was rarely dramatic.

It was simply constant.

Your sister noticed.

Her gaze dropped to his hand before moving back to his face.

“You look different in person,” she told him.

Seungmin paused while removing his shoes.

“Do I?”

“Better.”

You turned away before either of them could see your smile.

Seungmin placed his shoes neatly beside yours, then leaned closer to whisper, “Am I supposed to say she does too?”

“No.”

“Good.”

You elbowed him lightly.

He caught your arm and squeezed it against his side, looking pleased with himself.

Your sister was still watching.

“You brought something?” she asked, nodding towards the box in his hand.

“Cake,” Seungmin said. “Your mum said she liked the one from that bakery near our flat.”

“That was thoughtful.”

“She sent him a photograph of it with the address circled,” you said.

Seungmin looked offended.

“She provided helpful guidance.”

“She threatened to disown me if we arrived without it.”

“Still thoughtful.”

“You didn’t even pay for it.”

“I carried it.”

“You made me carry it on the train.”

“For part of the journey.”

“You said your arm hurt.”

“It did.”

“Because you spent the entire morning playing games.”

Seungmin smiled at your sister. “She has no sympathy for my suffering.”

“None,” you confirmed.

Your sister laughed a little too enthusiastically.

Not because the conversation had been particularly funny, but because Seungmin was smiling while he said it.

You noticed.

You also noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear before asking, “Do you want me to take that for you?”

She reached for the cake.

Seungmin shifted it away automatically.

“No, it’s all right. I’ve been entrusted with it.”

“He’ll cry if anything happens to it,” you said.

“I’ll tell your mum it was your fault.”

“You see what I live with?”

Seungmin bumped his shoulder against yours. “You love it.”

You opened your mouth to disagree.

He looked down at you expectantly, the beginnings of a grin already pulling at his lips.

You hated how well he knew you.

“Whatever,” you said.

“There it is.”

He bent and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before following the sound of your mother calling from the kitchen.

Your sister remained by the door with you.

She watched him leave.

Then she looked at you.

“You never said he was that handsome.”

You blinked. “You’ve seen photographs.”

“Photographs are different.”

“I suppose.”

“He’s taller than I thought.”

You stared at her.

She stared back, seemingly unaware that there was anything strange about the intensity of her assessment.

“Do you need his measurements?” you asked. “I can check the label in his coat.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I was only saying.”

“Right.”

“You don’t have to be weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You’re doing that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you do when you think you’re funny.”

“I am funny.”

“Seungmin clearly thinks so.”

There was something strange beneath the words. Something slightly too pointed.

Before you could decide whether you had imagined it, she smiled and linked her arm through yours.

“Come on. Mum’s been panicking over lunch for an hour.”

She pulled you towards the kitchen as though nothing had happened.

You let her.

At that point, it was easier.

౨ৎ

Your mum adored Seungmin.

That was hardly news.

She adored him because he arrived on time, complimented her cooking, remembered details from conversations they had months ago and always insisted on helping clear the table.

Your dad liked him because Seungmin could discuss football with convincing enthusiasm and had once spent nearly forty minutes helping him fix a temperamental television.

Even your relatives who had only met Seungmin briefly tended to approve of him.

He was polite without seeming rehearsed, funny without demanding attention and attentive in a way that made people feel remembered.

Your sister had apparently taken all of these qualities as an invitation.

At first, you didn’t think much of it.

She asked him about work. Normal.

She asked about the other members. Also normal.

She asked whether he enjoyed travelling, what food he liked and whether he preferred going out or staying at home.

A little interview-like, perhaps, but not particularly suspicious.

Then she moved from the chair opposite him to the empty one beside him when your mother asked her to fetch another plate.

You looked at the abandoned chair.

Then at her.

She smiled innocently and crossed one leg over the other.

Seungmin glanced towards you.

You were sitting on his other side, close enough that your knees touched beneath the table.

He nudged your foot.

You nudged him back.

His mouth twitched.

Your sister leaned towards him.

“So,” she said, “what did you think when you first met her?”

You nearly inhaled your drink.

Seungmin turned towards you slowly.

“Oh, no,” you said.

His eyes brightened.

“Oh, yes.”

“Don’t.”

“I thought she was very strange.”

Your mother laughed from the other end of the table.

You stared at him. “That isn’t what you said before.”

“You told me not to embarrass you in front of your family.”

“And this is you behaving?”

“This is me being generous.”

Your sister laughed, resting her hand against Seungmin’s arm.

It was light. Brief enough that she could claim it meant nothing.

Still, you saw it.

Seungmin looked down at her fingers.

Your sister removed them a moment later, smiling as though the contact had been accidental.

“What did you actually think?” she asked.

Seungmin looked back at you.

The teasing softened around the edges.

“I thought she was pretty.”

The answer was simple enough to make warmth spread through your chest.

Then his smile returned.

“Until she spoke.”

You kicked his shin beneath the table.

He flinched dramatically.

“See?” he told your family. “Violence.”

“You deserved that.”

“I complimented you.”

“You immediately ruined it.”

“I said you were pretty.”

“You said I was strange.”

“You are strange.”

Your sister tilted her head.

“I suppose you must usually date girls who are quite different from her.”

The sentence slipped into the conversation so smoothly that it took you a second to understand it.

Seungmin frowned slightly. “Different how?”

Your sister shrugged.

“You know. More… elegant.”

Your father suddenly became very interested in cutting his food.

Your mother looked up.

You glanced down at yourself.

You were wearing a jumper and trousers. Nothing particularly inelegant, unless your sister was counting the tiny mark on your sleeve from where Seungmin had flicked sauce at you in the kitchen.

Seungmin followed your gaze.

Then he looked at your sister.

“No,” he said. “I like this one.”

You pressed your lips together.

“This one?” you repeated.

He patted your knee beneath the table.

“My favourite.”

“I’m so flattered.”

“You should be.”

Your sister laughed, but there was something strained about it.

“I only meant that you seem very put together.”

“I’m not,” Seungmin said cheerfully. “She found me looking for my phone this morning while I was talking to someone on it.”

He looked towards your mother. “You raised a very critical daughter.”

Your mum smiled. “She gets it from me.”

“Good to know.”

The conversation moved on, but your sister did not return to her original chair.

Every few minutes, she found another reason to address Seungmin directly.

Did he like the food?

Had he visited the restaurant she mentioned?

Did he think her hair looked better dark or light?

That one made you turn.

She lifted a section of her hair between her fingers.

“I’ve been thinking of changing it,” she explained. “What do you think?”

Seungmin blinked.

“I don’t know.”

“You must have a preference.”

“For your hair?”

She laughed as though he had made a joke. “Generally.”

He looked at you.

You had stopped pretending not to listen.

A hint of mischief appeared in his expression.

“I like hers.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You said I’d look good bald.”

“You would.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It shows versatility.”

Your sister’s hand fell from her hair.

“You’re lucky,” she told you.

The words sounded pleasant.

The way she looked at Seungmin did not.

You raised an eyebrow. “I know.”

“I mean, you’ve never really cared about things like that.”

“Things like what?”

“Your appearance.”

Silence settled over the table.

It wasn’t complete silence. Your father’s fork scraped faintly against his plate, and the clock in the hallway continued ticking.

But the conversation stopped.

Your sister smiled as though she had offered you a compliment.

“You’ve always been confident enough not to bother,” she added.

You knew this routine.

It had existed long before Seungmin.

Your sister would say something cruel with a pleasant expression, and if you reacted, she would insist you had misunderstood. That she admired your confidence. That she wished she could leave the house without making an effort. That you were lucky not to care what people thought.

Normally, you could ignore it.

Today, the comment felt particularly childish.

You opened your mouth, but Seungmin spoke first.

“She spent forty minutes choosing that jumper.”

You turned towards him in disbelief.

Your sister laughed.

Seungmin continued, “Then she asked me which trousers looked better and ignored my answer.”

You nudged his side with your elbow.

He caught your hand before you could pull it away and linked your fingers beneath the table.

The gesture was concealed from everyone else.

His thumb brushed once over your knuckles.

You understood what he was doing.

He hadn’t ignored your sister’s comment.

He had simply refused to let it settle over you.

“She looks lovely,” your mother said firmly.

“She does,” Seungmin agreed.

Your sister’s smile tightened.

“I never said she didn’t.”

“No one said you did,” you replied.

Her gaze met yours.

For a moment, something sharp passed between you.

Then Seungmin squeezed your hand and leaned close enough that his shoulder pressed against yours.

“You have something on your face,” he whispered.

You immediately touched your cheek. “Where?”

“The other side.”

You touched the other cheek.

“No, lower.”

“Seungmin.”

“A little lower.”

You glared at him. “There’s nothing there, is there?”

He smiled.

“You’re so easy.”

You tried to pull your hand from his.

He tightened his grip.

“Don’t be sulky.”

“I hate you.”

Your sister watched the exchange with an unreadable expression.

You barely noticed.

౨ৎ

After lunch, your mother attempted to stop Seungmin from helping with the dishes.

Seungmin ignored her.

He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, collected the empty plates and followed you into the kitchen.

Your sister followed him.

Naturally.

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him, taking a plate from his hands.

“It’s fine.”

“You’re a guest.”

“So is she.”

Seungmin nodded towards you.

You were leaning against the counter eating a piece of cake.

Your sister looked at you.

“She’s family.”

“She isn’t helping.”

“I’m supervising,” you said.

“You’re eating the dessert we haven’t served yet.”

“I’m checking it for poison.”

Seungmin set the plates beside the sink.

“And?”

You took another bite.

“Still collecting evidence.”

He reached towards your plate.

You moved it out of reach.

“Get your own.”

“I bought it.”

“I paid for it.”

“With our money.”

“We don’t have shared finances.”

Your sister laughed again.

“You two are funny.”

You glanced at her.

The compliment sounded genuine enough, but her eyes remained fixed on Seungmin.

He turned on the tap.

Your sister stepped beside him.

“I’ll wash,” she offered.

“I can do it.”

“You dry, then.”

You watched her pick up a sponge.

Your mother called your name from the living room, asking whether you could help her find something.

You pushed yourself away from the counter.

“Don’t eat my cake,” you warned Seungmin.

“I would never.”

“You absolutely would.”

He placed one hand over his heart.

“Your lack of trust is upsetting.”

You pointed the fork at him. “I’ll know.”

“Go away.”

You reluctantly carried the plate with you.

As you left the kitchen, you glanced back.

Your sister had moved slightly closer to Seungmin.

He was focused on rinsing a plate.

You nearly stayed.

Then you caught yourself.

It was your sister.

Seungmin was your boyfriend.

Nothing was going to happen because the two of them spent ninety seconds alone beside a sink.

You found your mother’s glasses on top of her head, endured several minutes of her insisting she had already checked there and returned to the kitchen.

Your sister was speaking.

“…must get tiring.”

Seungmin passed her another plate. “What does?”

“Dating someone so different from you.”

You stopped just outside the doorway.

Seungmin didn’t appear to notice you.

He frowned. “You’ve said that a few times.”

“I don’t mean it badly.”

“What do you mean?”

Your sister dried the plate slowly.

“You’re very disciplined. Ambitious. You take care of yourself.”

He waited.

“And she isn’t?”

“She’s just more relaxed.”

Seungmin looked down at the soapy water.

You knew that expression.

He was choosing his words.

Your sister mistook his silence for agreement.

“I’ve always been more like you,” she continued. “Even when we were younger. People used to say I was the more responsible one.”

“Did they?”

“And the more confident one.”

Seungmin made a small sound that could have meant anything.

Your sister smiled.

“It’s funny, really. Most people usually notice me first.”

He glanced at her.

“Okay.”

You pressed your lips together.

She appeared thrown by the response.

“I don’t mean to sound arrogant.”

“Then don’t.”

The answer was delivered so lightly that for a second, you wondered whether you had heard him correctly.

Your sister laughed uncertainly.

“I’m only being honest.”

Seungmin rinsed another plate.

“About people noticing you?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations.”

You had to cover your mouth.

Your sister’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You must have noticed that we’re quite different.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m probably more like your usual type.”

Seungmin finally turned off the tap.

He looked at her properly.

“What’s my usual type?”

Your sister leaned one hip against the counter.

“Confident. Sophisticated.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m guessing.”

“You’ve guessed wrong.”

She smiled as though he were teasing her.

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

Something about his tone should have ended the conversation.

It didn’t.

Your sister lowered her voice.

“She’s always been the sweeter one, I suppose. Men tend to like that.”

Seungmin stared at her.

Then his gaze moved past her shoulder and found you standing in the doorway.

His expression changed immediately.

The irritation disappeared behind a slow, knowing smile.

“How long have you been there?” he asked.

Your sister turned sharply.

You lifted your plate.

“Long enough to know you’ve been having a very interesting discussion about your type.”

Seungmin dried his hands.

“Apparently, I have one.”

“Do you?”

“I’m learning a lot today.”

Your sister straightened. “We were only talking.”

“I heard.”

“There’s no need to make it strange.”

You stepped into the kitchen and placed your half-finished cake on the counter.

“I didn’t.”

“No, but you’re doing that thing where you act territorial.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows rose.

You laughed. “Territorial?”

“You don’t need to hover every time another woman speaks to your boyfriend.”

“I was helping Mum.”

“And then you came straight back.”

“Because this is where my cake is.”

Seungmin immediately reached for your plate.

You slapped his hand away.

“See?”

He looked wounded.

“You care more about that cake than you care about me.”

“The cake has never stolen my crisps.”

“It would if it could.”

Your sister sighed.

“You’re both impossible.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin said.

You picked up your fork again.

Your sister gave you a long look before placing the tea towel on the counter.

“I’m going to see if Mum needs anything.”

“She doesn’t,” you said. “Her glasses were on her head.”

Your sister ignored you and left.

You waited until her footsteps had faded down the hall.

Then you turned towards Seungmin.

He was already looking at you.

A smile pulled at your mouth.

“Your usual type?”

He groaned and leaned back against the sink.

“Please don’t.”

“Confident.”

“Stop.”

“Sophisticated.”

“I’m warning you.”

“So much like her.”

Seungmin reached for you.

You dodged around the kitchen island, laughing when he followed.

“I’m only being honest,” you said, mimicking your sister’s voice.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Apparently she’s the woman of your dreams.”

“My dreams have better conversational skills.”

You gasped. “That was mean.”

“It was accurate.”

He moved to one side of the island.

You moved in the opposite direction.

“I thought you liked confident women.”

“I like you.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“It’s my answer.”

“You’re only saying that because I caught you.”

“Caught me doing dishes?”

“Seductively.”

“I was wearing rubber gloves.”

“Exactly. Very provocative.”

Seungmin stopped.

You stopped too, watching him suspiciously from across the island.

His expression softened.

“Did that bother you?”

The question was quiet enough to dissolve some of your amusement.

You considered it.

“Not really.”

“Not really?”

“I don’t think you’re secretly going to run away with my sister.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I’d give you at least a week before you begged me to take you back.”

“A week?”

“Maybe four days.”

Seungmin looked offended. “I wouldn’t make it through the first evening.”

You smiled.

He continued to watch you.

“But?” he prompted.

You looked down at your cake.

“She does that sometimes.”

“Does what?”

“Compares us.” You scraped your fork lightly through the icing. “She always has. She thinks she’s being subtle.”

“She isn’t.”

“I know.”

“She also thinks I’m an idiot.”

You laughed. “Why?”

“Because I’ve said I like you at least twelve times today, and she’s decided that means I’m interested in her.”

“Maybe you’re sending mixed signals.”

“I asked her to move because she was standing on my foot.”

“Very flirtatious.”

“She apologised and touched my arm.”

“Scandalous.”

“She’s touched my arm six times.”

“You counted?”

“I started counting when she asked whether I thought she looked better with dark hair.”

You laughed again, and Seungmin smiled.

Then he walked around the island.

This time, you let him reach you.

His hands settled on your waist, drawing you between his knees as he leaned back against the counter.

“For the record,” he said, “I don’t think you’re lucky.”

“No?”

“No. I think I’m incredibly brave.”

You flicked his shoulder.

He caught your wrist and kissed your palm.

“And lucky,” he added.

“That was nearly sweet.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

You rolled your eyes, but your arms slipped around his shoulders.

He tilted his head.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your sister’s being strange.”

“She thinks she can steal you.”

“Can she?”

You pretended to consider it.

Seungmin pinched your side.

You squealed and tried to twist away, but he trapped you against him.

“Answer carefully,” he warned.

“I don’t know. She is very sophisticated.”

Another pinch.

“And confident!”

He attacked your other side.

You dissolved into helpless laughter, nearly dropping your fork as you attempted to escape.

“Seungmin!”

“Wrong answer.”

“She’s your type!”

“Take it back.”

“Never!”

He caught both your wrists in one hand and used the other to tickle your waist.

You kicked uselessly at his legs.

“You’re horrible!”

“Take it back.”

“Fine!” you gasped. “She isn’t your type.”

“And?”

“And you don’t want her.”

“And?”

You stared at him, breathless.

His hair had fallen over his forehead during the struggle, and his smile was bright and boyish and entirely too pleased.

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“There we go.”

He released your wrists.

You immediately smacked his chest.

Seungmin laughed and caught you against him again, pressing a noisy kiss to your cheek before you could complain.

“You’re very annoying,” you told him.

“You were laughing.”

“Against my will.”

He kissed your other cheek.

“Still counts.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

You both separated just before your mother entered the kitchen.

She looked at Seungmin’s messy hair, your flushed face and the abandoned washing-up.

Neither of you spoke.

Your mother sighed.

“The dishes, Seungmin.”

“I was doing them.”

“He attacked me,” you said.

“You provoked me.”

Your mother pointed at the sink.

“Both of you.”

“Yes, Mum,” you said.

“Yes, Mum,” Seungmin echoed.

You turned to glare at him.

He smiled innocently.

Your mother left the room shaking her head.

Seungmin bumped his hip against yours as he turned the tap back on.

“Pass me the sponge.”

“You pass me the sponge.”

“It’s closer to you.”

“You’re closer to the sink.”

He looked towards the doorway, then lowered his voice.

“Do you think your sister would do it for me?”

You stared at him.

He managed to hold a serious expression for approximately two seconds.

Then you shoved the sponge directly into his chest.

౨ৎ

When you finally prepared to leave, your mother packed enough food for several days into a bag and made Seungmin promise to visit again soon.

Your sister stood in the hallway while you put on your coat.

“You’re leaving already?” she asked.

“We’ve been here for five hours,” you said.

“It doesn’t feel that long.”

Seungmin bent to tie his shoelace.

Your sister’s gaze lingered on him.

“You should come over more often.”

“We will,” you replied.

“I meant Seungmin.”

He looked up.

Your sister smiled. “You don’t need to wait for her. You’re practically part of the family now.”

There it was.

Not quite enough to confront.

More than enough to notice.

Seungmin straightened.

“I think she’d be upset if I visited without her.”

“I wouldn’t,” you said. “I’d enjoy the peace.”

He placed one hand on top of your head and pushed down lightly.

Your sister laughed.

“You’re very patient with her.”

Seungmin looked at you.

“No,” he said. “She’s patient with me.”

For once, there was no joke attached.

His hand slid from the top of your head to the back of your neck, thumb brushing softly beneath your hair.

Your sister’s smile faded for half a second.

Then it returned.

“Well,” she said, opening the door, “it was lovely seeing you.”

“You too,” Seungmin replied politely.

She hugged you first.

It was brief.

Then she turned towards Seungmin.

You expected her to offer a wave.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around him.

Seungmin froze.

His hands hovered uncertainly beside her shoulders.

Your eyes widened.

Over your sister’s head, his gaze found yours.

His expression was so openly alarmed that a laugh burst out of you.

Your sister released him.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.”

Seungmin stepped immediately towards you.

You were still laughing as he took the bag of food from your hand and placed his other arm securely around your shoulders.

Your sister glanced between you.

“Text me when you’re home.”

“I will.”

She looked at Seungmin. “You have my number, don’t you?”

“No,” he said.

“Oh.” She paused. “I thought you did.”

“Why would he?” you asked.

“In case of an emergency.”

Seungmin nodded. “I’ll call emergency services.”

You choked on another laugh.

Your sister’s mouth tightened.

“I only meant if something happened with you.”

“He has Mum’s number.”

“And her Dad’s,” Seungmin added.

“And Chan’s,” you said.

“And Minho’s.”

“He doesn’t need your number.”

Your sister folded her arms.

“You make everything sound strange.”

“You asked my boyfriend whether he had your number.”

“For emergencies.”

“Right.”

Seungmin gently steered you through the doorway before either of you could continue.

“Thank you for lunch,” he called politely.

Your mother called goodbye from somewhere inside the house.

Your sister remained at the door while the two of you walked down the path.

You could feel her watching.

Seungmin’s arm stayed around you until you reached the pavement.

Then he leaned close.

“Don’t look now.”

You immediately looked back.

Your sister was still standing in the doorway.

She lifted her hand when she saw you turn.

You waved.

Seungmin sighed.

“I specifically said not to.”

“I don’t take instructions well.”

“I know.”

The door finally closed.

You walked several more steps in silence.

Then Seungmin said, “Your sister wants me.”

You stopped.

He stopped beside you.

The solemn expression on his face lasted less than a second before you both started laughing.

“Your confidence is disgusting,” you told him.

౨ৎ

Your sister arrived at your flat on Saturday afternoon wearing heeled boots, a fitted coat and enough perfume to announce her presence before you had even opened the door.

You looked at her.

Then at the small handbag hanging from her shoulder.

Then back at her.

“You said you were coming to borrow my straighteners.”

“I am.”

“Are you planning to straighten your hair here?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look like you’re going somewhere?”

She frowned. “I’m meeting someone later.”

“You didn’t mention that.”

“I didn’t realise I needed to submit an itinerary.”

“You don’t.”

“Then why are you interrogating me?”

“I asked one question.”

“You asked three.”

You stepped aside to let her enter.

She walked past you, removing her coat as she went.

The outfit beneath it was somehow even more carefully chosen.

You watched her smooth the fabric over her waist before checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“You could have texted,” you said, closing the door. “I would’ve brought the straighteners to Mum’s tomorrow.”

“I was nearby.”

She wasn’t.

Your sister lived nearly forty minutes in the opposite direction.

You decided not to point that out.

From the living room, Seungmin called, “Who is it?”

Your sister’s posture changed almost imperceptibly.

Her shoulders pulled back.

Her expression softened.

You stared at her.

She ignored you.

“Your favourite person,” you called.

There was a pause.

Then Seungmin replied, “Felix?”

You gasped.

Your sister laughed.

You marched into the living room, already preparing several punishments.

Seungmin was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table.

A pale blue fabric headband held his hair away from his face, and there was a thin layer of clay mask drying across his cheeks because you had told him his skin looked tired.

He had complained for eleven minutes.

Then he had asked whether there was enough left for his forehead.

Your left hand rested carefully on top of an old magazine while Seungmin held your right between both of his.

Three of your fingernails were painted.

One was half-painted.

The fifth had somehow acquired a streak of polish across your skin.

Seungmin looked up as you entered.

The smile on his face widened.

“There’s my second-favourite person.”

You stopped in front of him.

“Second?”

“Felix bakes for me.”

“I cook for you.”

“You once burned instant noodles.”

“The packet was confusing.”

“You forgot the water.”

“It didn’t say when to add it.”

You placed one foot against his thigh and pushed lightly.

Seungmin caught your ankle.

“No kicking near the nail polish.”

“You deserve worse.”

“You asked me to do this.”

“And you’re doing a terrible job.”

He looked down at your nails.

“They’re beautiful.”

“There’s polish on my knuckle.”

Your sister appeared behind you.

Seungmin glanced towards her.

His expression flickered with surprise before settling into a pleasant smile.

“Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.”

Your sister looked him over.

Her gaze paused at the headband.

Then the face mask.

Then your hand resting in his.

Her smile faltered, only slightly.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

You turned your head towards her.

She knew.

You had mentioned it the previous evening when she asked what you were doing this weekend.

Seungmin did not appear to remember that.

“I live here sometimes,” he said.

“You don’t,” you replied.

Your sister moved further into the room.

“You look comfortable,” she said.

Seungmin touched the edge of the headband.

“This was forced on me.”

“You asked whether the bow should go in the middle,” you said.

Your sister laughed, lowering herself onto the sofa behind him.

“It suits you.”

Seungmin looked up at her.

“The face mask?”

“The headband.”

He touched it again.

“Thanks.”

Her smile brightened.

You watched her tuck one leg elegantly over the other.

Seungmin returned his attention to your hand.

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not moving.”

“You’re moving now.”

“Because you told me not to.”

He tightened his fingers around yours.

“If you smudge this one, I’m starting again.”

“You’ve already smudged it.”

“That was intentional.”

“Was the polish on my skin intentional too?”

“Yes.”

“What was the artistic vision?”

“Annoying you.”

You tried to pull your hand away.

Seungmin held on.

“Stay still.”

“You’re enjoying the authority.”

“I rarely have any in this relationship.”

“Because you can’t be trusted.”

Your sister leaned forwards.

“You let him paint your nails?”

You looked at her.

“He volunteered.”

“I was coerced,” Seungmin said.

“You said you could do it better than me.”

“I can.”

You lifted your hand.

He immediately lowered it again before the wet polish could run.

“That remains to be seen.”

Your sister tilted her head.

“I’d never ask my boyfriend to do something like that.”

You glanced at Seungmin.

He glanced at you.

There it was again.

That tiny shared pause when both of you noticed something and decided, without speaking, whether it was worth reacting to.

You smiled.

“Good thing he isn’t your boyfriend, then.”

Your sister’s expression tightened.

Only for a second.

Then she laughed.

“I only mean I’d feel bad making him do something so feminine.”

Seungmin inspected your thumbnail.

“You think painting nails is feminine?”

“Usually.”

“Then I’m doing a very poor job of it.”

You snorted.

He blew gently across your nail.

Your sister watched his lips purse.

“It’s sweet,” she said. “I just wouldn’t have expected it from you.”

“What did you expect?” Seungmin asked.

“I don’t know.”

She did know.

You could tell by the way she leaned towards him.

“Something more masculine, I suppose.”

Seungmin looked down at himself.

He was wearing grey jogging bottoms, an old sweatshirt and your fluffy skincare headband.

“I’m devastated.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

She smiled as though he were deliberately teasing her.

“You seem like someone who’d usually want a very feminine girlfriend.”

Seungmin’s brush paused.

You looked at your sister.

She was looking at him.

Not you.

He lifted his eyes slowly.

“I do.”

Your sister’s smile widened.

Then Seungmin returned his attention to your hand.

“That’s why I’m dating her.”

You pressed your lips together.

Your sister glanced at you.

You smiled pleasantly.

Seungmin dipped the brush into the polish.

“She isn’t exactly what most people would call feminine,” your sister said.

You raised your eyebrows.

Seungmin’s hand stopped again.

Your sister gestured towards you.

You were wearing one of Seungmin’s old shirts, a pair of shorts and fluffy socks. Your hair was twisted into a loose knot that had begun collapsing an hour ago.

There was a faint smudge of clay mask beside your jaw where you had attempted to kiss Seungmin before it dried.

You looked extremely comfortable.

That had apparently become a flaw.

“I’m not?” you asked.

“I didn’t mean it badly.”

“Of course not.”

“You’ve never cared about being girly.”

“I’m getting my nails painted.”

“By your boyfriend.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“So that feels relevant.”

Your sister rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean. You’re not someone who gets dressed up around the house or worries about always looking attractive.”

You looked down at yourself.

Then at Seungmin.

His gaze had settled on your face.

You recognised the slight narrowing of his eyes.

Not anger.

Not yet.

Attention.

Your sister continued, “I just think it’s brave.”

“Brave?” you repeated.

“To be that comfortable so early in a relationship.”

You and Seungmin had been together for nearly two years.

Apparently that remained early enough to maintain a constant state of glamour.

“How does she normally dress at home?” Seungmin asked.

Your sister seemed pleased to have his attention again.

“Like this.”

“Right.”

“She’s always been a little careless.”

“With clothes?”

“With everything.”

You laughed quietly.

Your sister looked at you.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Seungmin placed the nail brush carefully inside the bottle.

Then he lifted your hand and examined his work.

“Perfect.”

“It’s uneven.”

“So are your fingers.”

“My fingers aren’t uneven.”

“One’s shorter.”

“They’re supposed to be different lengths.”

“Convenient excuse.”

He brought your hand towards his mouth.

You frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking whether it’s dry.”

“With your lips?”

“Yes.”

“That makes no sense.”

Seungmin pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your index finger, avoiding the wet nail.

Then he kissed your knuckle.

Then your wrist.

A smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself.

“Dry,” he announced.

“You didn’t touch the polish.”

“I’m an expert.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He kissed your wrist again.

Your sister shifted on the sofa.

“You two are very…” She paused. “Affectionate.”

“That sounded judgemental,” you said.

“It wasn’t.”

“It sounded a little judgemental,” Seungmin agreed.

“I only mean you don’t seem like the clingy type.”

She was speaking to him again.

Seungmin leaned back against your legs.

“I’m not.”

You looked down at him.

He looked up at you.

“You’re currently using me as a chair.”

“You’re comfortable.”

Seungmin smiled lazily, reaching behind himself until his hand found your knee.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb the headband.

He immediately tilted his head into your touch.

Your sister watched him do it.

Something in her expression hardened.

“You always liked being fussed over,” she said to you.

You looked at her.

“What?”

“When we were younger. You always needed everyone’s attention.”

The comment was casual.

Almost playful.

You knew better.

“I don’t remember that.”

“You used to follow Mum around constantly.”

“I was six.”

“You cried whenever she left the room.”

“I was still six.”

“You’ve never liked being alone.”

Seungmin’s thumb stroked once over your knee.

You shrugged.

“Good thing I don’t have to be.”

Your sister’s eyes flicked towards his hand.

“That’s what I mean. You need a lot from people.”

There was a quietness beneath the words.

An implication she wanted Seungmin to catch.

You were needy.

Difficult.

Exhausting.

The kind of girlfriend who demanded face masks and painted nails and constant affection.

Your sister, naturally, would never require so much effort.

Seungmin looked up at you.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Need a lot from me?”

You pretended to consider it.

“Well, you could make more tea.”

“I made the last one.”

“You drank half of it.”

“It became ours when you let me taste it.”

“That’s not how sharing works.”

Your sister exhaled through her nose.

“You make everything into a joke.”

“You make everything very serious,” you replied.

“I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“With my boyfriend?”

“With both of you.”

“You’ve mostly been looking at him.”

The room went still.

Your sister blinked.

Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted.

You hadn’t intended to say it quite so plainly.

You weren’t upset.

Not yet.

You were mostly curious to see what she would do when someone acknowledged the obvious.

She recovered quickly.

“I’m looking at whoever’s speaking.”

“He hasn’t been speaking.”

“He literally just was.”

You smiled.

“All right.”

Your sister folded her arms.

“You’re being strange again.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You implied something.”

“What did I imply?”

“You know exactly what.”

Seungmin’s hand slid around the back of your knee.

His fingertips squeezed gently.

You looked down at him.

He gave you a small, private smile.

There was no concern in it.

He knew you weren’t jealous.

Mostly, he appeared entertained.

“You came for straighteners,” you reminded your sister.

“I know.”

“They’re in the bedroom.”

“Can you get them?”

“You know where they are.”

She hesitated.

Her gaze moved towards the hallway, then back to Seungmin.

“I haven’t been in your bedroom since you moved things around.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I don’t want to go through your things.”

“You’ve never had an issue before.”

Her mouth tightened.

You smiled sweetly.

“I’ll show you.”

You gently extracted your hand from Seungmin’s grasp, holding your fingers carefully apart.

He immediately caught your wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the straighteners.”

“You’ll ruin your nails.”

“I’m walking, not digging a tunnel.”

“You’re very clumsy.”

“You painted them five minutes ago. They’re dry.”

Seungmin tightened his grip.

“Wait.”

“What?”

He reached for the bottle of top coat on the table.

“You need this.”

“You didn’t mention top coat before.”

“I forgot.”

“You just don’t want me to leave.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re holding my wrist.”

“To protect my work.”

“Say you’ll miss me.”

“You’ll be gone for thirty seconds.”

“Then it shouldn’t be difficult.”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes.

Your sister watched the exchange.

You waited.

He looked away first.

“I’ll miss you,” he muttered.

You grinned.

“What was that?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“I’m not repeating it.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to stay.”

Seungmin looked back at you suspiciously.

You lowered yourself onto the floor in front of him.

His expression brightened.

Then you reached for the top coat.

He held it out of reach.

“You said you were staying.”

“To do my own nails.”

“No.”

“Give it to me.”

“You’ll ruin them.”

“They’re already ruined.”

Seungmin gasped.

You grabbed for the bottle.

He leaned away.

You lunged across him, careful to keep your painted hand lifted.

Seungmin caught you around the waist with his free arm.

“Behave.”

“Give it.”

“No.”

“Seungmin.”

You tried to reach behind him.

He shifted again, pulling you further into his lap.

Your sister cleared her throat.

You both looked towards her.

She was still sitting on the sofa.

Watching.

You had briefly forgotten she was there.

“Sorry,” you said, although you weren’t particularly sorry.

Seungmin rested his chin on your shoulder.

He still had one arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

Your sister’s gaze dropped to it.

“Could you get the straighteners?” she asked.

“You know where they are,” you repeated.

“I already told you I don’t.”

Seungmin lifted his head.

“I can get them.”

Your sister’s face brightened.

You turned towards him.

He was already beginning to stand, carefully guiding you off his lap.

Your sister rose too.

Seungmin paused.

He looked at her.

Then at you.

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.

There was no reason for both of them to go.

Your sister apparently believed your bedroom contained an unusually complicated straightener-storage system that required Seungmin’s personal guidance.

“I know where they are,” he said.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You can stay here.”

Her smile faltered.

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

The answer was so immediate that you made a small choking sound.

Your sister’s patience finally snapped.

“Can someone please get them?”

You and Seungmin both looked at her.

She smiled tightly.

“The straighteners.”

“Right,” you said.

Seungmin pointed at you.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“It’s my flat.”

“My nail polish.”

He disappeared down the hallway.

Your sister waited until he was out of earshot.

Then she looked at you.

“You don’t have to perform every time I’m here.”

You stared at her.

“Perform?”

“The constant touching. The little jokes.”

“You think that’s for you?”

“I think you’re trying very hard to prove something.”

You looked towards the hallway.

Seungmin was rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, apparently having forgotten that you kept the straighteners inside your wardrobe.

You turned back to her.

“I’m sitting in my own living room wearing his shirt while he paints my nails.”

“Exactly.”

“What am I proving?”

“That you’re comfortable with him.”

“I am comfortable with him.”

“You don’t need to make it so obvious.”

A laugh escaped you.

Your sister’s expression darkened.

“What?”

“I genuinely don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.”

“You’re acting territorial.”

“I haven’t stopped you speaking to him.”

“You don’t have to. You just keep interrupting.”

“This is my flat.”

“So?”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Her eyes narrowed.

You smiled.

Still amused.

Mostly.

But something sharper had begun pressing beneath your ribs.

Your sister had always competed with you.

Clothes. Friends. Attention. Compliments.

Anything you possessed became evidence that she deserved something better.

You had simply never expected her to become this obvious.

“You’re imagining things,” she said.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you come dressed like that to borrow straighteners?”

Her face changed.

Only for an instant.

Then she scoffed.

“I told you I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do.”

“You’ve travelled forty minutes to borrow something you could buy for twenty pounds.”

“I was nearby.”

“No, you weren’t.”

She folded her arms.

“Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind me being here.”

There it was.

You looked at her.

She looked pleased with herself.

“Why would he mind?”

“He’s been friendly.”

“He’s usually friendly.”

“Not with everyone.”

You nearly smiled.

Your sister had known Seungmin for one afternoon.

Apparently she had already developed an extensive understanding of his social habits.

“He complimented me last time,” she continued.

“When?”

“He said my dress was nice.”

“Mum told him to.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t think it.”

“No, I’m sure he has very strong feelings about the dress.”

“You don’t have to be jealous.”

You stared at her.

Then you laughed.

You couldn’t help it.

The idea was so completely detached from reality that amusement overwhelmed everything else.

Your sister’s face hardened.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Because you think Seungmin complimenting your dress means I should be worried.”

“I didn’t say you should be worried.”

“You said I was jealous.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“Trust me.” You leaned back against the sofa. “I’m not.”

Your sister opened her mouth.

Seungmin returned before she could answer.

He was holding the straighteners in one hand

He handed the straighteners to your sister.

She accepted them.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Her fingers lingered against his for a moment.

Seungmin looked down at their hands.

Then politely extracted his own.

“I should probably go,” your sister said.

You looked at the clock.

She had been there for less than twenty minutes.

“Your plans?” you asked.

“Yes.”

She picked up her coat.

Seungmin returned to the floor beside you, already reaching for your hand.

Your sister watched him pull you down beside him.

Your sister opened the front door.

“I’ll text you,” she said to you.

“Okay.”

She looked towards Seungmin.

“It was nice seeing you.”

“You too.”

“You look good, by the way.”

Seungmin glanced down at his sweatshirt.

“Thanks.”

“The headband especially.”

His hand rose to the blue bow.

“Right.”

She laughed softly.

Then she left.

You waited until the door closed.

Silence settled over the flat.

Seungmin stared at it.

You stared at him.

He turned slowly.

“What?”

You broke first.

Laughter burst out of you so suddenly that you nearly knocked over the nail polish.

Seungmin caught the bottle.

“Careful!”

“The headband especially,” you repeated.

“Stop.”

“You look good, by the way.”

“I said stop.”

You twisted in his arms until you were facing him.

Seungmin was kneeling over you, one hand planted beside your shoulder and the other wrapped securely around your waist.

You looked up at him.

“I like your headband.”

“Thank you. I already have a beautiful girlfriend.”

You nodded.

“Very natural.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

“You’ve been waiting to say that all afternoon.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You tried to push him away with your forearm.

Seungmin remained exactly where he was.

“Admit it,” he said.

“Admit what?”

“That you’re jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“Just a little?”

“No.”

“Not even when she touched my hand?”

“I thought about breaking her fingers.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened.

You hooked one leg around his hips and attempted to roll him onto his back.

He anticipated it, shifting his weight before you could gain any leverage.

“You’re cheating,” you complained.

“How?”

“You’re stronger.”

“That isn’t cheating.”

“It is when I’m losing.”

He laughed.

You used the distraction to push at his shoulder again.

Seungmin caught both your wrists.

Your breath hitched, more from surprise than anything else.

He pinned them lightly above your head, careful not to let your nails touch the carpet.

His hair had begun slipping free from the headband.

The clay mask had cracked faintly near the corners of his smile.

He looked completely ridiculous.

And unfairly lovely.

“Still think I enjoyed it?” he asked.

You pretended to consider your answer.

His eyes narrowed.

“Choose carefully.”

You bit back a smile.

“She is very feminine.”

Seungmin lowered his face closer to yours.

“Wrong direction.”

“And confident.”

His grip tightened slightly around your wrists.

You laughed.

“And sophisticated.”

“Do you want to keep your newly painted nails?”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

“You worked so hard on them.”

“I can start again.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I have nowhere to be.”

You squirmed beneath him.

He shifted, trapping you more securely without putting his weight on you.

“You’re impossible,” you said.

“You started this.”

“She’s your type.”

Seungmin stared at you.

Then he released one of your wrists.

You immediately tried to escape.

His free hand found your side.

You squealed.

“No!”

“Take it back.”

“You can’t keep doing this!”

“I can until you learn.”

His fingers dug gently into your waist.

You dissolved into laughter, twisting helplessly beneath him.

“The mask!” you gasped. “You’ll crack the mask!”

“I don’t care.”

“You were worried about it two minutes ago!”

“You’ve pushed me too far.”

You kicked at the rug.

Seungmin caught your leg beneath his knee.

“You’re evil!”

“And?”

“Controlling!”

“And?”

“Obsessed with me!”

His fingers stopped.

“There we go.”

You glared up at him, breathless.

“That isn’t fair.”

“It’s completely fair.”

“I was supposed to say you don’t want her.”

“I know I don’t want her.”

“You’re supposed to reassure me.”

“Are you worried?”

“No.”

“Then why do you need reassurance?”

“Because I enjoy compliments.”

Seungmin smiled.

The teasing faded gently from his expression.

He released your other wrist and settled his hand beside your head instead.

“You’re very pretty.”

“That was basic.”

“You’re especially pretty when you’re wearing my clothes.”

“Better.”

“You’re funny.”

“I know.”

“And irritating.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“It’s one of my favourite things about you.”

You looked up at him.

His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek.

“You’re my favourite person to come home to,” he continued. “My favourite person to annoy. My favourite person to do absolutely nothing with.”

Your smile softened.

Seungmin’s did too.

“And,” he added, “I’m so obsessed with you that I let you put this stupid thing on my head.”

You touched the bow.

“You love the headband.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You’re avoiding the important part.”

“What important part?”

“The part where you admit I’m obsessed with you.”

You laughed.

“You just admitted it yourself.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“And?”

You stared at him.

He waited expectantly.

“And you don’t want my sister.”

“Obviously.”

“And?”

A slow grin spread across his face.

You realised what he wanted.

“No.”

“Say it.”

“I’m not saying it.”

“You know you want to.”

“I don’t.”

Seungmin’s fingers hovered threateningly near your waist.

You recoiled.

“Don’t.”

“Then say it.”

“You’re abusing your power.”

“I’m waiting.”

You glared at him.

He looked delighted.

“And I’m obsessed with you too,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“You heard me.”

“The face mask is restricting my hearing.”

“That isn’t how masks work.”

“Speak clearly.”

You tried not to smile.

“I’m obsessed with you too.”

“There we go.”

He bent and kissed you.

It began soft.

A pleased little press of his lips against yours.

Then you reached for the back of his neck and accidentally brushed one wet nail against his cheek.

Seungmin pulled away.

You froze.

A bright streak of polish now cut through the dried clay mask.

For one second, neither of you moved.

Then you burst out laughing.

Seungmin stared at you.

“You ruined it.”

“I’m sorry!”

“You did that on purpose.”

“I didn’t!”

“You attacked me.”

“You were on top of me!”

“Because you accused me of wanting your sister.”

Seungmin touched his cheek.

His fingers came away with polish on them.

His mouth dropped open.

You laughed even harder.

“You look beautiful.”

“You’re sleeping on the sofa.”

“It’s my flat.”

“Then I’m sleeping in your bed alone.”

“You wouldn’t last ten minutes.”

“I’d sleep perfectly.”

You grinned.

Seungmin tried to maintain his glare.

He failed.

A laugh escaped him.

Then another.

He lowered his head until his forehead rested against your shoulder, both of you shaking with laughter on the living-room floor.

You wrapped your arms around him.

“Your mask really is ruined.”

“I know.”

“And the polish is definitely smudged.”

“I know.”

౨ৎ

Your sister invited herself shopping with you three days later.

Technically, she asked whether you had bought your mum’s birthday present yet. When you told her that you and Seungmin were going into town on Sunday to find something, she replied that she had been planning to go that day too.

You had stared at the message for several seconds.

Seungmin, lying beside you with his head on your stomach, had tilted his phone away from his face and asked, “Why are you making that expression?”

“My sister wants to come shopping with us.”

He had gone silent.

You lowered your phone to look at him. “That was a very long pause.”

“I was trying to think of something polite.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t.”

You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We are shopping for her mum too.”

“Unfortunately.”

“She’s my mum.”

“That’s why I said unfortunately. I like your mum.”

“You’re horrible.”

Seungmin had turned his head and pressed a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “Tell her she can come.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“I’m thrilled. Maybe she can tell me more about what kind of woman I usually prefer.”

You had flicked his forehead.

He had bitten your finger.

The matter was settled.

౨ৎ

Your sister arrived twenty minutes late.

You and Seungmin had already been standing outside the shopping centre long enough for him to complain about the cold four times, steal one of your gloves and attempt to warm his other hand by shoving it beneath the back of your jumper.

You had slapped him away.

He had waited thirty seconds before trying again.

“Your hand is freezing,” you complained, twisting out of his reach.

“That’s why I need your body heat.”

“You have pockets.”

“They’re not as warm as you.”

“They don’t want you touching them either.”

Seungmin smiled and caught the belt loop of your jeans when you tried to step away. “Come back.”

“No.”

“You’re abandoning me.”

“I’m moving half a metre.”

“That’s still too far.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him pull you backwards until your shoulder rested against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and tucked his chin over your shoulder, immediately pleased with himself.

“You’re very clingy today,” you said.

“It’s cold.”

“You were clingy yesterday too.”

“I was tired.”

“You fell asleep on top of me. I couldn’t breathe.”

“And yet you let me stay.” His laugh warmed the side of your neck.

Your sister found you like that.

She slowed as she approached, taking in Seungmin’s arms around your middle and the way your hands rested over his.

Then she smiled.

“Sorry,” she said, although she did not sound particularly sorry. “The train was delayed.”

“You said you were driving,” you replied.

She paused.

Seungmin’s face disappeared briefly against your shoulder. You felt the silent shake of his laughter.

“I changed my mind,” your sister said.

“Clearly.”

She looked at Seungmin. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Long enough for her to attack me.”

“I moved your freezing hand away,” you said.

Seungmin tightened his arms around your waist. “Exactly.”

Your sister laughed, her gaze lingering on him a little too long. “You poor thing.”

Your sister looked at you with a small, knowing smile. “You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Rough.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows rose.

You looked down at your outfit as though you might find evidence of roughness on your coat. “I pushed his hand away.”

“I’m only joking.”

“Right.”

“She’s very frightening,” Seungmin said solemnly. “I live in constant fear.”

Then he kissed your cheek and released you, taking your hand instead. “Can we go inside before I lose feeling in my fingers?”

“You stole my glove.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Your sister walked beside him as you entered the shopping centre.

You ended up on his other side.

It was not immediately strange. The pavement narrowed near the doors, people moved around you, and your sister had always been skilled at placing herself exactly where she wanted to be without appearing deliberate.

But once you were inside, she remained there.

She asked Seungmin what he thought you should buy. She asked whether he enjoyed shopping. She asked which shops he liked, whether he cared about clothes and whether he usually chose his own outfits.

He answered politely.

Mostly.

When she asked whether he had a favourite designer, he said, “Whoever makes comfortable trousers.”

When she asked what colours he liked on women, he said, “Normal ones.”

Your sister frowned. “I was asking a normal question.”

“I know,” you said. “His answer was stupid.”

Seungmin swung your joined hands between you.

Your sister glanced down.

“I think you’d suit darker colours,” she told him.

“I wear dark colours.”

“I know. They make you look more mature.”

You looked across him. “What does he look like now?”

She ignored you. “You have a very classic face.”

Seungmin turned towards you. “Do I?”

“No.”

He looked offended. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“I look at your face every day.”

“And you’ve never thought it was classic?”

“I’ve thought it was annoying.”

“That isn’t a facial structure.”

“It should be.”

Your sister sighed softly. “You never take compliments seriously.”

“She rarely gives them,” Seungmin said.

“I complimented you this morning.”

“You said my hair looked less strange than usual.”

“That was generous.”

“You also said I looked tired.”

“You did.”

“You make me feel very cherished.”

You stopped in the middle of the walkway and placed both hands around his face. “You are beautiful.”

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re mocking me.”

“Never.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

He stared at you for another second before his mouth betrayed him.

A reluctant smile appeared.

“There,” you said, squeezing his cheeks. “Pretty.”

Seungmin caught both your wrists and pulled your hands away. “Don’t touch my face in public.”

“You love it.”

Your sister had gone quiet.

You released Seungmin’s face and started walking again. He slipped his hand into yours as though the interruption had never happened.

The first shop was useless.

The second was worse.

Your mum had said she wanted something for the house, which sounded simple until you were faced with fifteen aisles of objects she might already own.

Your sister suggested a decorative vase.

You reminded her that your mum had six.

Seungmin picked up a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown.

You told him to put it down.

“She’d love him,” he said.

“She’d ask why we bought her rubbish.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s ugly.”

“He can hear you.”

Your sister smiled at Seungmin. “I think he’s cute.”

You looked at her.

She was not looking at the ceramic dog.

Seungmin, apparently unaware or pretending to be, placed the ornament carefully in your hands. “Hold him.”

“No.”

“He likes you.”

“You like him.”

“He reminds me of you.”

You stared at the dog.

The dog stared back with badly painted eyes.

“You’re sleeping alone tonight.”

Seungmin smiled. “You say that every week.”

“One day I’ll mean it.”

“No, you won’t.”

Your sister picked up a sleek glass vase and held it towards Seungmin. “What about this?”

He glanced at it. “It’s nice.”

“She already has something similar,” you said.

Your sister’s smile tightened. “Not exactly like this.”

“It’s almost identical.”

“It’s more modern.”

“Mum doesn’t care about modern.”

“She might.”

Your sister looked at Seungmin. “What do you think?”

He looked between you both.

Then at the vase.

Then at the ceramic dog still in your hands.

“I think we should buy the dog.”

You laughed.

Your sister did not.

“You’re both impossible,” she said, returning the vase to the shelf.

“That keeps coming up,” Seungmin replied.

You carried the dog for another two aisles before secretly placing it on a display of cushions.

Seungmin noticed immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The dog.”

“I don’t know.”

“You abandoned him.”

“He wasn’t ours.”

“He could have been.”

“Not everything you like has to come home with us.”

“You came home with me.”

Your sister laughed.

You turned towards Seungmin slowly. “Was that meant to be sweet?”

“Yes.”

“It sounded like you found me beside a road.”

“I rescued you.”

“From what?”

“Yourself.”

You shoved him lightly towards a stack of towels.

He caught your elbow and pulled you with him, making you stumble against his chest. His free arm wrapped around your waist before you could fall.

You tried not to smile.

You failed.

Your sister walked ahead.

౨ৎ

After nearly an hour, you found a set of handmade serving bowls that your mum would genuinely like.

Your sister thought they were plain.

Seungmin thought one of them looked like a hat.

You thought both of them needed to stop talking.

You were waiting at the till when your sister announced that she wanted coffee.

“There’s a place downstairs,” she said. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll come,” you replied. “I need the toilet anyway.”

Her expression flickered.

Only slightly.

Then she smiled. “You can stay with the bags. Seungmin and I can get them.”

Seungmin looked up from the receipt in his hand.

You looked at her.

She looked at him.

There was a small silence.

Then Seungmin said, “She knows my order.”

Your sister recovered quickly. “You can tell me.”

“I’ll forget something.”

“It’s coffee.”

“He’s very demanding,” you said.

Seungmin nodded.

Your sister laughed, although her eyes stayed on him. “I think I can manage.”

You could have refused.

Part of you wanted to, not because you thought anything would happen, but because your sister’s intentions had become so transparent that allowing her to proceed felt almost embarrassing.

Then curiosity won.

You handed the shopping bag to Seungmin. “Fine. Get me something sweet.”

“What?”

“Surprise me.”

“That always ends badly.”

“Only because you make poor choices.”

Seungmin stared at you.

You smiled.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Your sister looked pleased.

Far too pleased.

You kissed Seungmin’s cheek before stepping away. “Don’t let her buy me anything with coconut.”

౨ৎ

Seungmin watched you disappear into the crowd.

He knew exactly what you were doing.

You had kissed him in front of your sister on purpose.

Not because you were worried.

Because you were a menace.

A message appeared on his phone before he and your sister had reached the escalator.

Don’t fall in love while I’m gone x

He smiled despite himself.

Your sister noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Was that her?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Seungmin put his phone away. “Nothing important.”

Your sister stepped onto the escalator beside him.

For several seconds, she was silent.

Then she said, “She checks on you a lot.”

Seungmin looked at her. “Does she?”

“She’s always texting you.”

“We text each other.”

“I know. I just mean she likes knowing where you are.”

He considered the comment.

“She sent me a joke.”

“What joke?”

“One you wouldn’t find funny.”

Your sister’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know that.”

“I know her sense of humour.”

“And mine?”

“Not really.”

The escalator carried them down another floor.

Your sister rested one hand on the rail. “You and her are very different.”

Seungmin looked ahead. “You’ve mentioned that.”

“I don’t mean it as an insult.”

“You keep saying that too.”

She laughed softly. “You remember.”

“I have a good memory.”

“You do seem observant.”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s why I’m surprised.”

He turned his head.

“By what?”

She looked briefly uncertain, as if she had expected him to understand without making her say it aloud.

“Nothing.”

Seungmin faced forwards again.

The coffee shop was busy. A line curled away from the counter, giving your sister more time than she probably needed.

She moved closer to him as they joined it.

“I’ve always wondered how she ended up with someone like you.”

Seungmin’s expression did not change.

“Someone like me?”

“Successful. Disciplined. Mature.”

“You think she isn’t those things?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

Your sister sighed. “You’re very defensive of her.”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you surprised?”

“I’m not surprised. I just think you misunderstand me.”

Seungmin shoved one hand into his coat pocket. “Then explain.”

Your sister glanced towards the counter. The line had barely moved.

“She’s always been the sweet one,” she said. “The one people feel protective over. I’ve always been more independent.”

“Okay.”

“She needs more reassurance.”

“Does she?”

“You’ve seen how she is.”

“I have.”

“And that doesn’t get tiring?”

Seungmin looked at her properly.

His tone stayed light, but his eyes sharpened. “No.”

Your sister held his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

“I’m not.”

“She can be a lot.”

“So can I.”

“You’re different.”

“You don’t know me.”

The words landed more firmly than anything he had said before.

Your sister blinked.

Seungmin looked back towards the counter.

The line moved forward.

For a few seconds, she said nothing.

Then she tried again.

“She doesn’t tell people this, but she used to get overlooked a lot when we were younger.”

Seungmin’s jaw tightened.

“Overlooked by who?”

“People.”

Your sister exhaled, clearly frustrated by his refusal to fill in the gaps for her.

“Boys usually noticed me first.”

Seungmin waited.

She smiled faintly. “She never minded. At least, she pretended not to.”

He looked at her.

“And?”

“And nothing. I’m only saying it’s probably nice for her to be the one someone chose for once.”

Seungmin stared at her for a long moment.

Your sister interpreted the silence as an opening.

“You’re kind,” she continued. “You probably don’t even realise how much that means to her.”

“I noticed her.”

The sentence was quiet.

Immediate.

Your sister’s smile faltered.

“I didn’t say you didn’t.”

“You said people didn’t.”

“I said they usually noticed me first.”

“I didn’t.”

Something sharp passed across her face.

Then she laughed.

“You hadn’t met me.”

Seungmin looked at her.

The confidence in her smile returned.

It was not difficult to understand what she meant.

If he had seen her first, things might have been different.

If he knew her better, he might recognise what he had missed.

If you had not reached him before she did, perhaps he would have made the correct choice.

Seungmin almost laughed.

Instead, he said, “I’ve met you now.”

Your sister’s smile remained fixed.

The line moved again.

She stepped closer.

“I think we have more in common than you realise.”

“Do we?”

“We’re both ambitious.”

“So is she.”

“We care about how we present ourselves.”

“She does too.”

“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks.”

“That’s one of the things I like about her.”

Your sister’s eyes narrowed. “You turn everything into a compliment about her.”

“Yes.”

The answer was so simple that it left nowhere for the conversation to go.

Your sister looked away.

Seungmin’s phone buzzed again.

He checked it.

Is she seducing you yet?

A second message appeared.

Blink twice if you need rescue

Then:

Actually don’t. I can’t see you

He laughed under his breath.

Your sister glanced towards the phone.

“She’s checking again?”

“She’s entertaining herself.”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

Seungmin looked up. “Should she?”

Your sister went still.

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

For the first time, she seemed uncertain whether he was joking.

Then he smiled.

Not warmly.

Not cruelly either.

Just enough to make the question impossible to challenge.

Your sister looked towards the menu.

“What did she want?”

“Something sweet.”

“That isn’t very specific.”

“She likes trying new things.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Your sister frowned. “She’s my sister.”

Seungmin slipped his phone into his pocket. “Then choose.”

She looked at the display board.

After a moment, she suggested a coconut latte.

Seungmin stared at her.

“What?”

“She hates coconut.”

Your sister hesitated. “Does she?”

“She told you five minutes ago.”

“I forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

He ordered your favourite instead.

౨ৎ

You returned to find them sitting at a small table near the window.

Your sister was speaking.

Seungmin was looking at his phone.

That alone told you almost everything you needed to know.

He was never rude enough to ignore someone without a reason.

When he spotted you, his entire expression changed.

His shoulders relaxed. His mouth curved into a smile. He put his phone down and lifted one hand towards you.

“There you are.”

You slid into the seat beside him.

Seungmin immediately hooked his fingers through the belt loop at the back of your jeans and tugged you closer.

“I was gone for fifteen minutes.”

“It was difficult.”

“You seemed fine.”

Your sister looked between you.

You picked up the drink in front of your seat and inspected it. “What did you get me?”

“Try it.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“You said to surprise you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Seungmin pushed the cup closer. “Drink.”

You took a cautious sip.

It was sweet, creamy and familiar.

Your favourite.

You looked at him.

He smiled smugly.

“You didn’t choose something new.”

“I chose something you’d like.”

“That isn’t a surprise.”

“You were surprised.”

“I was surprised you made a good decision.”

Seungmin leaned towards you. “Say thank you.”

“No.”

“Say it.”

“You’re very demanding.”

“I carried the bowls.”

“They’re in one bag.”

“A heavy bag.”

“They’re ceramic, not concrete.”

Your sister interrupted. “He remembered your order.”

You looked at her.

There was something brittle in her voice.

Seungmin rested his chin briefly on your shoulder and stole a sip of your drink.

You pushed his face away.

“Of course he did,” you said. “He orders it more than I do.”

“For you,” he corrected.

“You steal half.”

“It tastes better when it’s yours.”

“That’s because you’re a thief.”

He smiled against your cheek.

Your sister looked away.

You could practically feel the conversation you had interrupted sitting between them.

You waited until Seungmin sat back.

Then you asked, “Did you have a nice chat?”

Your sister reached for her coffee.

Seungmin looked at you.

His eyes were bright with the effort of not laughing.

“Very informative.”

“Oh?”

“I learned that I’m successful, disciplined and mature.”

You nodded solemnly. “One out of three isn’t bad.”

Seungmin kicked your foot beneath the table.

You kicked him back.

Your sister sighed. “I was complimenting him.”

“I know.”

“She thinks I’m mature,” Seungmin said.

“She doesn’t live with you.”

“I don’t live with you.”

Under the table, Seungmin’s knee pressed against yours.

You tapped it once with your own.

He tapped back.

Your sister watched the movement.

“I was only saying that you’re lucky,” she said.

You looked at her. “Again?”

“You are.”

“I know.”

“She thinks you’re lucky someone finally noticed you,” Seungmin added.

The words were delivered with deceptive casualness.

Your sister’s head snapped towards him.

Your hand stilled around the cup.

Seungmin lifted his drink.

You looked at your sister.

She looked suddenly furious.

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“How did you say it?”

“I said people usually noticed me first when we were younger.”

You raised your eyebrows.

Your sister leaned back. “It was relevant to the conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“We were talking about relationships.”

“You were talking about mine?”

“She asked whether dating you was tiring,” Seungmin said.

You stared at him.

He took a calm sip.

Your sister’s face reddened. “That isn’t what I asked.”

“It was very close.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

“I remember them quite clearly.”

You looked between them.

The ridiculousness of it arrived before the hurt could.

Your sister had finally managed to get Seungmin alone, and she had apparently used the opportunity to explain why being with you must be exhausting.

A laugh slipped out.

Your sister’s mouth tightened. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you had fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

“You finally got him alone and that was your strategy?”

Seungmin choked on his drink.

Your sister stared at you.

You turned towards him. “Are you all right?”

He held up one hand and coughed into the other.

“You’re horrible,” he managed.

“You were thinking it too.”

“I was trying to be polite.”

Your sister placed her cup on the table more firmly than necessary. “Nothing happened.”

You looked at her. “I know.”

“Then stop acting like you caught me doing something.”

“I didn’t catch you. He told me.”

Your sister stood.

The legs of her chair scraped against the floor.

“I’m going to look at another shop.”

You glanced at the untouched coffee. “We just sat down.”

“I remembered something I need.”

She grabbed her handbag.

Seungmin watched her.

Your sister looked at him, waiting for something.

An offer to come with her, perhaps.

An apology.

A private look that confirmed all the things she had decided existed between them.

Seungmin lifted his hand.

For one hopeful second, she smiled.

Then he pointed towards her cup. “Are you taking that?”

Her smile disappeared.

“No.”

“Can I have it?”

You elbowed him.

“What?” he asked. “She isn’t drinking it.”

Your sister walked away without answering.

You watched her disappear into the crowd.

Then you turned slowly towards Seungmin.

He was already reaching for her abandoned coffee.

You slapped his hand.

“No.”

“She said she didn’t want it.”

“You don’t know what’s in it.”

“Coffee.”

“She might have poisoned it.”

“Why would she poison her own drink?”

“She sensed rejection.”

Seungmin laughed.

You folded your arms. “What did she actually say?”

He gave up on the coffee and leaned back in his chair.

“Exactly what I told you.”

“She asked whether I was tiring?”

“She implied that you need constant reassurance, said you’re a lot and suggested I probably chose you because I’m kind.”

Your amusement faded a little.

Seungmin noticed immediately.

His foot slid beside yours under the table.

“She also told me men usually noticed her first,” he added.

You looked at the crowd beyond the window. “She loves saying that.”

“I asked which men.”

That made you smile.

Seungmin’s knee pressed more firmly against yours.

“She couldn’t name them.”

“You interrogated her?”

“I asked good questions.”

“You never ask good questions.”

“That’s unfair.”

You looked back at him.

He was watching you closely.

Not pushing.

Just waiting.

“What else?” you asked.

Seungmin hesitated. “She implied I might have chosen differently if I’d met her first.”

A strange little ache settled beneath your ribs.

Not because you believed it.

The idea of Seungmin choosing your sister felt almost comical.

But because she believed your entire relationship could be reduced to timing.

That you had simply arrived first and seized something that should have belonged to her.

You looked down at your cup. “And what did you say?”

“That I’ve met her now.”

Your mouth twitched.

“That’s all?”

“I thought it was enough.”

“It is.”

“She didn’t like it.”

“I’m devastated for her.”

“I also told her I noticed you.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

Seungmin’s expression softened.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I noticed you.”

You fought a smile.

You covered his mouth with your hand.

Seungmin kissed your palm.

You pulled it away immediately.

“That’s disgusting.”

“You liked that too.”

“You’re so pleased with yourself.”

“I handled a difficult social situation and bought you the correct drink.”

“You want a medal?”

“A kiss would be appropriate.”

“You’re asking for payment?”

“I did hard labour.”

“You stood in a coffee queue.”

“With your sister.”

You considered that.

Seungmin lifted his eyebrows.

You leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He turned his head at the last second, catching the corner of your mouth instead.

You pulled back.

“That was cheating.”

“You’re slow.”

“You tricked me.”

“You still kissed me.”

“Barely.”

“You can try again.”

“I’m not rewarding bad behaviour.”

Seungmin rested one elbow on the table. “Then I’ll have to live with the memory.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I suffered for fifteen minutes.”

“You were texting me.”

“That was my lifeline.”

You laughed and nudged his foot beneath the table.

Seungmin caught your ankle between his.

“You know she’s going to tell herself you only rejected her because you knew I was coming back.”

Seungmin’s expression became thoughtful. “Do you want me to say it more directly?”

You looked towards the direction your sister had disappeared.

Part of you wanted him to.

Part of you knew she would turn even that into evidence of something else.

“She hasn’t actually admitted she wants you,” you said.

“She invited herself on our date.”

“We’re buying Mum bowls.”

“A highly romantic date.”

Seungmin reached for your hand across the table.

His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles.

“If she says something properly,” he said, “I’ll answer properly.”

“You have answered.”

“I mean without being polite.”

“That sounds frightening.”

Seungmin squeezed your hand. “Tell her that when she tries again.”

You looked at him.

“When?”

He smiled.

“You think she’s stopping?”

You glanced once more towards the crowd.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

There was a pause.

Then Seungmin brightened. “Can we go back for the dog?”

“No.”

“He could be part of your mum’s present.”

“She would hate him.”

“She’d learn to love him.”

“You only knew him for ten minutes.”

“That was enough.”

Seungmin smiled and lifted your hand to his mouth.

This time, he kissed your knuckles slowly.

You let him.

Your sister returned ten minutes later carrying nothing.

Neither of you mentioned it.

Seungmin did, however, remain close to you for the rest of the afternoon.

His hand at your waist when people passed too close. His fingers laced through yours on the escalator. His chin briefly resting on your shoulder while you examined candles. His mouth near your ear when he whispered that one of them smelled like “an expensive wardrobe”.

Your sister tried to walk beside him.

Seungmin kept drifting back towards you.

She asked his opinion.

He asked yours.

She suggested shops.

He followed wherever you went.

By the time you left the shopping centre, your sister had stopped speaking unless someone addressed her directly.

The three of you stood near the station while she checked the time.

“My train’s in five minutes,” she said.

Your sister adjusted her handbag and looked at Seungmin. “It was nice spending time with you.”

“You too.”

“We should do it again.”

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

Your sister noticed.

“Without making it into a whole family thing,” she added.

You raised your eyebrows.

Seungmin slipped his arm around your shoulders. “I think she comes with me.”

Your sister laughed. “You’re allowed separate friends.”

“I have friends.”

“She means her,” you said.

“I know.”

Your sister’s cheeks coloured.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” Seungmin asked.

She looked at him.

He waited.

His expression was pleasant.

Curious.

Entirely unwilling to rescue her.

Your sister’s train arrived with a rush of noise behind her.

She glanced towards the platform.

“I have to go.”

“You should hurry,” you said.

She hugged you briefly.

When she turned towards Seungmin, he lifted the shopping bag between them.

Your sister stopped.

He smiled politely.

“Bye.”

For a moment, she looked as though she might push around the bag and hug him anyway.

Then she stepped back.

“Bye.”

You watched her hurry towards the train.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungmin lowered the bag.

“You used Mum’s bowls as a shield,” you said.

“I panicked.”

“You’re very brave.”

“She hugged me last time.”

“Terrifying.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have hugged her.”

Seungmin looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”

“She’s confident and sophisticated.”

“Stop.”

“More your type.”

He pointed at you. “We discussed this.”

“She only needs an opportunity.”

“You’re becoming annoying.”

“Becoming?”

“More annoying.”

You smiled.

Seungmin stared at you for a second.

Then he hooked one arm around your waist and lifted you just enough that your shoes left the ground.

You yelped.

“Put me down!”

“Take it back.”

“We’re in public!”

“I don’t care.”

You grabbed his shoulders, laughing as he carried you several steps away from the platform.

Seungmin lowered you carefully to the ground.

His smile softened.

Seungmin took your hand again, swinging it once between you before pulling you towards the station exit.

“Come on,” he said. “We have to go back.”

“For what?”

“The dog.”

“We are not buying the dog.”

“He’s waiting for us.”

“He’s ceramic.”

“He’ll think we abandoned him.”

“You said I was the abandoned animal.”

“I can rescue both of you.”

“You already complain that I take up too much space.”

“He’s small.”

“I hate you.”

Seungmin kissed the side of your head.

He smiled and kept walking.

You followed, because the station exit was in the same direction as the shop.

Not because you had agreed to buy the dog.

Definitely not.

When your mum opened her birthday present a week later, she found a beautiful set of handmade serving bowls.

And, tucked between them, a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown.

She stared at it.

You stared at Seungmin.

Seungmin looked unbearably pleased.

౨ৎ

By the time you finished getting ready, Seungmin had changed his shirt twice, complained about both options and somehow blamed you for the fact that neither looked right.

“You said the black one was nice,” he reminded you from the bedroom doorway.

“It was nice.”

“And then you told me to wear the blue one.”

“Because the blue one is nicer.”

“So the black one was ugly.”

“That isn’t what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

You turned away from the mirror and looked at him. He stood with both shirts hanging from one hand, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and an expression of genuine betrayal on his face.

“You’re having a crisis over two nearly identical shirts.”

“They aren’t nearly identical.”

“One is black and one is very dark blue.”

“Exactly.”

You stared at him.

Seungmin stared back.

Then his gaze drifted slowly down your body.

The offence disappeared from his expression.

You had chosen an outfit that made you feel good. You suspected you would regret that decision later, but Seungmin’s reaction made it worth it.

He looked at you for long enough that you lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m looking.”

“At what?”

“My girlfriend.”

You tried not to smile. “Have you not seen me before?”

“Not in that.”

“You watched me put it on.”

“I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“The shirt crisis.”

You laughed and turned back towards the mirror. Seungmin abandoned both shirts on the bed and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You look pretty,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Only pretty?”

His eyes narrowed at your reflection. “Don’t become demanding.”

“You stared at me for thirty seconds. I expected something better.”

“You look very pretty.”

“That’s the same thing with an extra word.”

“You look so pretty that I’m reconsidering letting you leave the flat.”

You smiled. “Better.”

“I knew you were fishing.”

“I enjoy compliments.”

“I know.”

Seungmin kissed the side of your neck, then another spot slightly lower. You tilted your head instinctively before remembering you had spent far too long getting ready.

“Don’t ruin my makeup.”

“I’m nowhere near your makeup.”

“You’ll work your way up.”

“That sounds like encouragement.”

You caught his wrists and pulled his arms away. Seungmin resisted just enough to make it difficult, then released you with an exaggerated sigh.

“You don’t love me anymore.”

“I’m trying to get us to the party.”

“Chan said eight.”

“It’s quarter past.”

“Exactly. We’re early.”

You looked at him through the mirror. “For what?”

“A party.”

“That started fifteen minutes ago.”

“Social events have a grace period.”

“You invented that because you’re never ready on time.”

“I was ready.”

“You aren’t wearing a shirt.”

Seungmin looked down at his bare chest, then at the two shirts abandoned on the bed.

Your phone buzzed on the dressing table.

You picked it up.

Your sister had messaged.

Are you there yet?

A second message followed before you could reply.

Is Seungmin going straight from yours?

You turned the screen towards him.

Seungmin read both messages. His face remained blank for one beat, then he placed his chin back on your shoulder.

“She misses me.”

“She saw you last week.”

“A long separation.”

“She didn’t ask whether I was going straight from mine.”

“She knows you’ll be there.”

“She also knows you’ll be there.”

“That must be why she asked to come.”

You laughed and nudged him backwards with your hip. “Put the blue shirt on.”

“The black one makes my shoulders look better.”

“Then wear the black one.”

“You said the blue was nicer.”

“Seungmin.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek before finally retrieving the blue shirt.

You replied to your sister while he dressed.

We’re leaving soon. Bring the drinks you promised Chan.

Her response came almost immediately.

What’s Seungmin wearing?

You looked up.

He was buttoning the blue shirt.

You considered sending her a photograph of the black one lying empty on the bed.

Instead, you typed:

Clothes x

Seungmin glanced over. “What did you say?”

“Nothing important.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m entertaining myself.”

“Is she seducing me remotely now?”

“Apparently she needs to prepare.”

“For what?”

“To be more your type.”

Seungmin finished the final button and walked towards you. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“It’s funny.”

“Until she touches my arm fifteen times.”

“Maybe she thinks that’s where your romantic feelings are stored.”

“That would explain why I keep trying to get away.”

You laughed, and Seungmin’s smile softened. He reached out to fix the chain of your necklace where it had twisted, his fingers careful against the back of your neck.

“Tell me if it stops being funny,” he said.

The words were quiet enough to change the air between you.

You turned.

Seungmin let his hands settle at your waist.

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“You already made me promise.”

“I’m making you do it again.”

“Very controlling.”

“Very caring.”

“Debatable.”

He squeezed your waist. “Promise.”

You rested both hands against his chest. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Seungmin kissed your forehead. Then he leant back and examined his shirt in the mirror.

“Do my shoulders look strange?”

You pushed him towards the door.

౨ৎ

The party remained civilised for approximately forty minutes.

Then Changbin brought out the shot glasses.

Chan saw them from across the room and immediately shook his head. “Take it easy”

“You bought the alcohol,” Changbin reminded him.

Jisung appeared beside the kitchen counter as though summoned by the word drinking. “Shots are normal.”

“You said that last time and threw up in my shoes.”

“That was unrelated.”

“It was directly related.”

Felix slid into the space beside Jisung and began examining the bottles. You followed closely behind him, your own drink already mostly gone.

Seungmin caught your wrist before you could reach for anything.

“You’re not doing shots.”

You looked at his hand around your wrist, then at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve already had three drinks.”

“So have you.”

“I can still walk in a straight line.”

“I can walk in a straight line.”

Seungmin released you and pointed towards the hallway.

You stared at him.

He lifted his eyebrows.

“You want me to demonstrate?”

“Yes.”

You placed your empty glass on the counter and turned towards the hallway with as much dignity as you could manage.

Felix and Jisung watched in complete silence.

You took three perfectly respectable steps.

Then your hip struck the edge of the sofa.

You stopped.

Seungmin smiled.

“The sofa moved.”

“It’s been there all night.”

“It knew I was trying to prove something.”

Jisung nodded seriously. “Furniture can sense weakness.”

Minho, sitting nearby with his ankle resting over one knee, looked at him. “That explains why you keep walking into doors.”

Jisung placed a hand over his chest. “Why are you attacking me?”

“Because you make it easy.”

Jisung abandoned the counter and dropped onto the sofa beside him. Within seconds, his legs were stretched across Minho’s lap.

Minho glanced down but made no effort to move them.

You pointed towards them. “He can’t walk straight either.”

“He’s sitting,” Seungmin said.

“He was walking badly earlier.”

Changbin began pouring.

Hyunjin took the bottle from Changbin before he could overfill the glasses. “At least make them even. You’re pouring like you’ve never seen liquid before.”

“I’m being generous.”

“You’re trying to kill Jisung.”

Jisung lifted his head from Minho’s shoulder. “Yes please.”

Minho pressed one hand against his forehead and pushed him back down. “You accept nothing.”

You managed to claim a glass before Seungmin could stop you.

Felix took one.

Jisung reached for another, but Minho lifted it out of reach.

Jisung stared at him. “Give it.”

“No.”

“You aren’t my father.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

“You can’t control me.”

Minho looked at the legs still resting across his lap. “Stand up, then.”

Jisung considered it.

“No.”

“Thought so.”

Felix passed Jisung his own glass beneath the edge of the table.

Minho saw.

He allowed it.

You caught his eye.

Minho shrugged and took another drink.

“Traitor,” Seungmin told him.

“I’m off duty.”

“You were never on duty,” Chan said.

“Exactly.”

Changbin raised his glass. “To Chan finally letting us have fun.”

“This is my party.”

“Then act like it.”

Chan swore at him, but lifted his drink anyway.

Everyone crowded closer.

Your friend remained beside your sister near the end of the counter, amused but still slightly removed from the intimacy of the group. You caught her eye and held up your glass.

She lifted hers back.

Your sister barely noticed.

She was watching Seungmin.

He stood behind you with one hand resting against your hip, his thumb moving absently beneath the hem of your top.

You leaned back into him.

“To being hot,” Hyunjin said.

Jeongin nodded. “Finally, something relevant.”

Chan looked around the group. “Can we toast to something normal?”

“No,” everyone replied.

The shot burned on the way down.

Felix coughed.

You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed the first solid thing you found.

It was Changbin’s arm.

“Fuck.”

Changbin laughed. “You agreed to it.”

“That tasted like paint stripper.”

“You’ve never tasted paint stripper.”

“Maybe I have.”

Seungmin pulled you backwards against his chest. “And this is why you weren’t doing shots.”

You turned in his arms. “I did one.”

“You nearly died.”

“I recovered.”

“You’re still holding Changbin.You could have held me.”

You looked down to find your hand still wrapped around Changbin’s bicep and slowly released him. “Come back when you’ve got biceps, bud.”

Seungmin stared at you for a beat before catching you around the waist and pulling you firmly against his chest. “You seemed perfectly happy with mine earlier.”

You placed a hand against his arm as though inspecting it. “They’re all right.”

His grip tightened. “All right?”

You smiled. “Maybe a little better than that.”

౨ৎ

Someone suggested a drinking game.

Nobody later remembered who.

You all ended up sitting in a loose circle around the living room with bottles, half-empty glasses and bowls of food scattered between you.

Your friend sat beside your sister on the sofa. You were on the floor between Felix and Seungmin, with your back against Seungmin’s legs. His hand rested loosely at the base of your throat, occasionally brushing your hair aside.

Jisung had begun the game beside Minho.

By the third round, he was mostly sitting on him.

“Never have I ever,” Jeongin began, smiling in a way that immediately made Chan suspicious, “lied to get out of plans with someone in this room.”

Nearly everyone drank.

Chan stared at the group. “Are you serious?”

“You make too many plans,” Seungmin said.

“I ask whether you want dinner.”

“That’s still a plan.”

You lifted your glass.

Seungmin looked down at you. “When did you lie to me?”

You took a long sip.

His fingers tightened gently at the back of your neck.

“When?”

You smiled into your drink. “Next question.”

“No. We’re staying here.”

Felix laughed. “She said she was ill once because she wanted to watch a film with us.”

Seungmin stared at you.

“You exposed me,” you told Felix.

“I forgot it was a secret.”

“You chose them over me?” Seungmin asked.

“You were working.”

“You still lied.”

“You would’ve sulked.”

“I am sulking now.”

You twisted around to look at him. “Do you need a kiss?”

Seungmin considered the offer.

“Yes.”

You kissed him quickly.

He kept one hand against your jaw and prevented you from moving away.

“That was inadequate.”

Everyone groaned.

You laughed against his mouth before kissing him again, slower this time.

When you finally pulled away, Changbin threw a crisp at Seungmin’s head.

“Some of us are single.”

“You don’t have to watch,” Seungmin said.

“You’re in the middle of the room.”

“Look somewhere else.”

Hyunjin placed one hand against Changbin’s cheek and turned his face away. “There. Problem solved.”

Changbin bit his palm.

Hyunjin screamed.

The game continued.

“Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this room,” Felix said.

Silence fell.

Then Jeongin drank.

Hyunjin drank.

Changbin drank.

Jisung lifted his glass, looked around and drank twice.

Minho looked at him. “Twice?”

Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “I contain multitudes.”

Minho took Jisung’s glass and drank from it.

The room erupted.

Jisung stared at him, eyes widening. “Was that your answer?”

“It was your drink.”

“You have your own.”

“I wanted yours.”

“That is not an answer.”

Minho smiled into the rim of the glass.

You turned towards Felix.

He was already looking at you.

Both of you burst out laughing.

“Don’t,” Minho warned.

You covered your mouth with both hands.

Seungmin’s chest shook behind you.

Your sister remained completely still.

You could feel her watching.

Felix nudged your knee. “You didn’t drink.”

“I’m dating someone in the room.”

“That doesn’t mean you never had a crush.”

Seungmin’s fingers slid beneath your chin and turned your face towards him.

“You had better drink.”

You stared at him. “Why?”

“Because you had a crush on me.”

“That was never confirmed.”

“You asked Chan for my number.”

The group laughed.

Your sister’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth.

Seungmin’s eyes flicked towards her, then back to you.

Your smile softened despite the alcohol.

Felix made an emotional noise.

Minho pointed at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

Felix’s eyes had already begun shining.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re about to cry.”

“I just think they’re cute.”

Seungmin felt you sniff.

“No.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re crying.”

“Felix started it.”

Felix wiped beneath one eye. “I’m happy.”

“That makes it worse,” Seungmin said.

You twisted and threw your arms around him.

He caught you automatically.

“I love you.”

Seungmin sighed, but his arms tightened around your waist.

“I love you too.”

౨ৎ

The music became louder after that.

So did everyone.

Chan lost control of the playlist when you, Felix and Jisung began shouting over every song until he played something you liked. By then, the coffee table had disappeared beneath bottles, crushed cans and bowls of snacks nobody remembered opening. Somebody had spilt something sticky beside the sofa. Changbin had taken his shirt off for reasons nobody understood, and Hyunjin kept threatening to throw it out of the nearest window.

You, Felix and Jisung dragged one another into the middle of the room.

At first, you actually danced.

Felix knew what he was doing even while drunk. Jisung knew what he was doing until something distracted him, which happened every ten seconds. You possessed confidence far beyond your ability and therefore believed you looked incredible.

Changbin encouraged that delusion by cheering whenever you moved.

Hyunjin attempted to correct your posture once.

You told him to fuck off.

He looked deeply wounded. “I’m trying to save you.”

“I don’t need saving.”

“You’re dancing like your limbs have separate plans.”

“They’re expressing themselves.”

Felix laughed and caught your waist before you could stumble into the coffee table. Jisung pressed against your back, shouting the lyrics directly beside your ear while the three of you moved with very little coordination and enormous enthusiasm.

From the sofa, Seungmin watched you.

His blue shirt had come unbuttoned slightly at the throat, his hair had fallen across his forehead and his cheeks were warm from the alcohol. One hand rested around his glass while his eyes remained fixed on you.

Your sister sat only a few feet away.

She attempted to speak to him twice.

He answered politely, but barely looked in her direction.

When you caught his gaze, you smiled and crooked one finger towards him.

Seungmin shook his head.

You did it again.

He lifted his drink as though that explained why he could not move.

You pouted.

That worked.

Seungmin put the glass down and crossed the room.

Felix released your waist with a grin. Jisung remained attached to you until Minho appeared behind him, hooked an arm around his middle and pulled him backwards.

Jisung laughed and twisted in his hold. “Jealous?”

Minho murmured something into his ear.

Whatever it was made Jisung’s face turn bright red.

Felix screamed.

You screamed because Felix did.

Seungmin caught your face between both hands. “Why are you shouting?”

You pointed vaguely towards Minho and Jisung. “Something happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Minho said without looking at you.

Jisung buried his face against his shoulder.

You grinned. “Something definitely happened.”

Minho gave you a warning look.

You immediately turned back to Seungmin and began adjusting his collar as though that had always been your intention.

“Coward,” Seungmin murmured.

“You’re supposed to protect me.”

“From the consequences of your own behaviour?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

“That isn’t what that means.”

His hands slid to your waist as the song changed. You pulled him closer, and although he continued pretending not to dance, his body fell easily into the rhythm of yours.

“There,” you said. “You’re dancing.”

“I’m standing near you.”

“You’re moving.”

“You keep dragging me around.”

“You love it.”

Seungmin lowered his mouth beside your ear. “I love you.”

The softness of it caught beneath your ribs.

You turned and kissed him.

He kissed you back without hesitation, one hand spreading across the small of your back while the party surged around you. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else shouted at them to shut the fuck up.

You suspected one of them had been Changbin.

When you pulled away, Seungmin followed far enough to steal another brief kiss.

“You’re clingy,” you murmured.

“You called me over.”

“And you came.”

“You pouted.”

“That’s all it takes?”

“Unfortunately.”

You smiled and kissed the edge of his jaw.

His eyes closed.

“Again.”

“You’re demanding.”

You kissed his jaw again, and Seungmin’s grip tightened around your waist.

Across the room, your sister emptied the rest of her glass.

You barely noticed.

Seungmin’s attention had already wandered from dancing to pressing lazy kisses against whatever part of you happened to be closest—your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

When his lips brushed beneath your ear, you laughed and pushed lightly at his chest. “You’ve completely stopped dancing.”

“I never started.”

“You came over.”

“You summoned me.”

“I moved one finger.”

“Very controlling.”

His hand settled lower against your back, holding you close when somebody squeezed past.

You reached up and fixed his collar again. “You look messy.”

“You made me messy.”

“That sounds suggestive.”

“It was meant to.”

His smile turned slow and pleased.

Before he could say anything worse, Felix collided gently with your side and caught your hand. “I need her.”

Seungmin kept one arm around you. “You’ve had her for three songs.”

“The next one’s important.”

“They’ve all been important,” you said.

Seungmin looked at Felix. “You sound like her.”

“That’s why she loves me.”

Felix pulled. Seungmin held on.

You found yourself stretched between them.

“Don’t make me choose.”

Felix smiled. “You’ll choose me.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. “Choose carefully.”

You pretended to consider it before twisting out of Seungmin’s arm, kissing him quickly and letting Felix drag you away.

“Coward,” Seungmin called after you.

“You still got a kiss!”

“Barely.”

You laughed as Felix pulled you back into the crowd.

The next hour dissolved into heat, noise and flashes of movement.

Hyunjin danced as though someone might be filming him. Changbin attempted to copy him with enough force to make the floor shake.

Nearby, Minho took the glass out of Jisung’s hand and drank from it himself.

Jisung watched him. “You said I couldn’t have that.”

“You can’t.”

“But you can?”

“Yes.”

“That’s hot.”

Minho looked away, but not before you saw him smile.

Someone produced two microphones.

The karaoke began badly and deteriorated almost immediately.

You, Felix and Jisung chose a song all three of you knew, which would have helped if any of you had agreed on when to start. Jisung came in too early. You missed half the first line. Felix attempted to hold the performance together and ended up laughing so hard that he could no longer sing.

Changbin provided backing vocals without a microphone.

Hyunjin acted out the lyrics from the sofa.

Chan kept trying to lower the volume and being shouted at whenever the music became even slightly quieter.

By the second song, you had abandoned any pretence of performing well. You and Felix shared one microphone while Jisung used the other for increasingly dramatic ad-libs that had nothing to do with the actual song.

Halfway through the chorus, you passed close enough to the sofa for Seungmin to hook his fingers around your wrist.

He pulled.

You landed sideways across his lap, and the microphone struck his shoulder.

“Shit. Sorry.”

Seungmin took it from you before you could hit him again. “Ouch.”

“I’m performing.”

“You’re screaming into expensive equipment.”

He placed the microphone safely on the table.

Felix shouted your name.

You tried to stand, but Seungmin held your waist.

“I have responsibilities,” you told him.

“You have absolutely no responsibilities.”

“Felix needs me.”

Felix and Jisung had abandoned the song and were arguing with Chan about whether the lyrics on the screen were wrong.

Seungmin looked towards them. “They seem busy.”

“Then I need to help.”

“You need to stay here for thirty seconds.”

“Why?”

“I missed you.”

Your expression softened before you could stop it.

Seungmin smiled, knowing he had won.

“You’re manipulative.”

You settled more comfortably across his thighs, one arm circling his shoulders. Seungmin rested his face against your chest and closed his eyes while your fingers moved through his hair.

Across from you, your sister’s gaze remained fixed on his hand resting against your thigh.

Your friend was speaking to her.

Your sister nodded without listening.

By one in the morning, the party had split between the living room, the kitchen and the balcony.

The music remained loud enough to vibrate through the floor. People drifted between conversations with drinks they had not poured and jackets that did not belong to them. Someone had opened a window, but the room was still hot with too many bodies and the sharp mixture of alcohol, perfume and whatever Changbin had sprayed after insisting he smelled fine.

Your friend remained mostly with your sister.

She laughed whenever the group became loud enough to include everyone, but she never tried to force herself into the easy physical closeness surrounding the boys.

You checked on her whenever you remembered.

Each time, she assured you she was fine.

Your sister always said the same.

The fourth time you approached, your friend caught your wrist. “You are incredibly drunk.”

You looked down at yourself. “I’m standing.”

“Barely.”

Your friend laughed.

Your sister did not. “She’s been throwing herself around for hours. She always gets like this when she drinks.”

There was something dismissive beneath the words.

You recognised it even through the alcohol.

Your friend did too.

“She looks like she’s having fun,” she replied.

“I’m having an incredible time,” you announced.

“I can tell.”

Your sister glanced across the room towards Seungmin. “He must be exhausted.”

You followed her gaze.

Seungmin was beside Chan, listening to Changbin explain something with far too much hand movement. He caught you looking almost immediately and lifted one eyebrow in silent question.

You smiled.

He smiled back.

“Does he look exhausted?” you asked.

“He’s spent the whole night following you around.”

“He likes me.”

“I’m aware.”

Before the conversation could sharpen, Felix appeared behind you and looped an arm around your shoulders. “There you are.”

“I’ve been here.”

“You disappeared.”

“I was checking on them.”

Felix glanced towards your friend and sister. “Everything good?”

Your friend nodded. “We’re fine.”

Your sister smiled at him. “We were talking.”

“Great. I’m stealing her.”

“You always steal her,” your sister said.

Felix laughed as though she had made a joke. “Everyone does.”

He pulled you towards the kitchen.

You looked back once.

Your friend gave you a small, reassuring smile.

Your sister was already watching Seungmin again.

In the kitchen, Jisung was sitting on the counter while Minho stood between his knees, holding a glass out of reach.

“That’s mine,” Jisung complained.

“It was yours.”

“I’m not finished.”

“You said the room was spinning.”

“It stopped.”

“When?”

“When I closed one eye.”

Felix immediately took Jisung’s side. “Give it back.”

Minho looked at him. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“You’re drinking too,” you pointed out.

“I can handle it.”

“So can I.”

Minho gave up and handed the drink to you instead.

Jisung gasped. “That’s mine.”

“You’re too drunk.”

“So are you.”

“I’m handling it better.”

Felix took the glass from you and drank before either of you could protest.

Minho laughed.

It was becoming obvious that he was far drunker than he appeared. His movements were still controlled and his words remained clear, but his eyes had softened and he was smiling much too often.

You stepped into the space beside him and wrapped both arms around his waist.

Minho looked down. “What’s this?”

“I’m appreciating you.”

“You’re crushing my shirt.”

You rested your cheek against his chest. “You smell nice.”

“None of you are getting another drink.”

“You ruined it,” you complained.

“He ruins everything,” Jisung agreed.

Minho caught Jisung’s chin and tilted his face upwards. “You can barely keep both eyes open.”

“I only need one.”

“For what?”

“To look at you.”

Minho stared at him.

You buried your face against Minho’s shoulder to hide your laughter.

Jisung looked unbearably pleased with himself.

Minho’s ears turned pink. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“You love me.”

Seungmin entered the kitchen before anyone could comment.

He looked at Minho’s arm around you and Jisung hanging over his shoulders

Then he looked at Minho. “You’ve collected them.”

“I didn’t.”

Seungmin approached and slid both hands onto your hips. “You keep disappearing.”

“You were talking.”

“I can talk while holding you.”

“That sounds inconvenient.”

“I’m talented.”

Minho nodded towards you. “Take her before she asks for another shot.”

You turned in Seungmin’s arms. “He’s trying to get rid of me.”

“You’re attached to his shirt.”

“I like him.”

“You like everyone tonight.”

“I like everyone every night.”

Seungmin’s expression softened.

The next drinking game began in the kitchen because nobody could be bothered to move.

It was meant to be truth or drink.

Within minutes, it became an excuse to ask invasive questions and shout whenever somebody refused to answer.

Changbin joined first, followed by Hyunjin and Jeongin. Chan arrived last, realised what was happening and attempted to leave.

You caught his wrist. “No.”

“I’m hosting.”

“You’re hiding.”

“I need to check the living room.”

Jeongin looked towards the doorway. “It’s still there.”

Chan appealed silently to Minho for help.

Minho poured him a drink.

“Traitor.”

“You chose to host.”

Everyone crowded around the counter and floor.

You ended up sitting between Minho’s legs with your back against his chest because the chairs had disappeared beneath coats and bags. Seungmin sat in front of you, one hand wrapped loosely around your ankle. Jisung remained tucked against Minho’s side, his head on his shoulder and one leg draped over yours.

Changbin pointed at you first. “Truth or drink?”

“Truth.”

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done because you were jealous?”

Seungmin looked interested.

You looked at Changbin. “I’m not jealous.”

The entire room laughed.

“That wasn’t the question,” Hyunjin said.

You raised your glass. “Then I’m drinking.”

Seungmin’s hand tightened around your ankle. “Answer.”

“You don’t get to interfere.”

“I’m probably involved.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I definitely know that.”

You drank instead.

Everyone shouted.

“Coward,” Changbin said.

“That’s the point of the game.”

“The point is to expose yourself.”

“That sounds like a different game,” Jeongin said.

You chucked at that

The questions became worse from there.

Felix refused to reveal who had received a flirtatious message he sent to the wrong person.

Changbin demanded to know whether anybody had ever hooked up somewhere they could have been caught.

Half the room drank.

Chan stared at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “In my home?”

“Not necessarily,” Jeongin said.

“That did not reassure me.”

Jisung claimed he had never done anything humiliating because he was horny.

The entire group drank on his behalf.

“Fuck all of you.”

Minho leant close enough to murmur something beside his ear.

Jisung’s face turned red again.

You twisted around. “What did he say?”

“Nothing.”

Minho looked unbearably pleased.

Your sister stood at the edge of the kitchen beside your friend.

She watched Seungmin’s hand move slowly over your ankle. Then she watched Minho’s arm settle across your middle when you leant back against him.

Perhaps she expected Seungmin to object.

Instead, he reached forward, caught your chin and tilted your face towards his.

“My turn,” he said.

You kissed him.

The kiss was brief, but intimate enough to inspire several dramatic complaints.

When you pulled away, Seungmin’s thumb brushed once beneath your lip.

Your sister looked away.

The game ended when Chan realised the music in the living room was loud enough to make the glasses vibrate.

Everyone returned to dancing.

By then, nobody pretended it was organised.

You, Felix and Jisung shouted lyrics you barely knew with your arms around one another. Sometimes you danced. Sometimes you merely jumped during the chorus and trusted somebody to catch you.

Changbin joined whenever the song was good.

Hyunjin joined whenever he considered the song worthy.

Jeongin joined only to make everyone else look worse.

At one point, Minho caught your hand as you passed and spun you beneath his arm.

You nearly completed the movement gracefully.

Then you lost your balance.

Minho caught you against his chest. Jisung caught you from the other side.

The three of you laughed, tangled together.

Seungmin appeared behind you and closed both hands around your waist.

“You’re stealing my girlfriend,” he told Minho.

Minho shrugged. “She came willingly.”

“He spun me.”

“You asked,” Minho reminded you.

Seungmin looked down at you. “You ask everyone for things.”

“And they give them to me.”

“That’s because you’re spoilt.”

“By you.”

“Mostly.”

He kissed your forehead.

You leant into him, suddenly overwhelmed by the warmth of the room and how much you loved everyone in it.

Across the room, your friend smiled at the sight.

Your sister finished another drink.

By the time you needed the bathroom, you were far beyond pleasantly drunk.

You were still awake, still talking and technically capable of walking, but the room tilted whenever you turned too quickly.

Seungmin noticed you heading towards the hallway and followed.

You looked over your shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“I can piss alone.”

“I’m making sure you reach the bathroom.”

“That’s insulting.”

Seungmin caught your waist before you walked into the wall. “Exactly.”

You allowed him to guide you down the hallway, although you complained the entire way.

At the bathroom door, you planted both hands against his chest. “You can’t come in.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“You looked like you were.”

“I was opening the door.”

Seungmin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be here.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll forget where the living room is.”

“It’s one hallway.”

“And yet.”

You narrowed your eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.

When you came back out, your sister was standing in front of him.

One hand rested against the wall beside his shoulder.

Seungmin was leaning away.

“You could come upstairs with me,” she said.

He blinked at her. “Why?”

You stopped in the doorway.

Even through the alcohol, laughter rose immediately in your chest.

Your sister looked at him as though he were deliberately being stupid. “You know why.”

“I genuinely don’t.”

She moved closer, forcing Seungmin’s back against the wall.

“We could have sex.”

For one long second, Seungmin simply stared at her.

Then his gaze found yours over her shoulder.

You covered your mouth.

The expression on his face made it impossible not to laugh. His eyes widened slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching as though he could not decide whether to be horrified or offended.

Your sister followed his gaze and found you standing there.

Her face hardened.

“Oh, please. Don’t act like it’s ridiculous.”

That made you laugh harder. “I’m sorry. His face.”

“You’re not helping,” Seungmin said.

“You asked why.”

“It was a reasonable question.”

“She invited you upstairs.”

“She could’ve needed something.”

“At one in the morning?”

“I didn’t know what she meant.”

“You did,” your sister snapped.

Seungmin looked back at her. “Apparently not.”

She folded her arms. “You haven’t even considered it.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He stared at her.

Then he gave one short, humourless laugh. “Because I don’t want to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“You’ve never given me a chance.”

“I’m not required to.”

Your laughter faded.

Your sister stepped closer and reached for his chest.

Seungmin caught her wrist before she could touch him.

“Stop.”

The word was calm.

Firm.

He moved her hand away and released it.

Humiliation sharpened your sister’s expression as she turned towards you. “You think this is funny because you assume he’d never choose me.”

“I don’t assume it.”

“You should stop speaking for him.”

“I’m standing right here,” Seungmin said.

She ignored him. “You’ve always done this. You get something and act smug because you know somebody else deserves it more.”

The alcohol inside you turned suddenly heavy.

You steadied yourself against the bathroom door. “Somebody else?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No. Say it properly.”

Her eyes travelled over you.

Your clothes had shifted from dancing. Your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was a mess and your balance remained questionable.

You had never felt happier.

“Look at you,” she said. “You’re completely wasted. He’s spent all night following you around while you throw yourself over every man in the room.”

Seungmin’s expression hardened.

You laughed softly. “Is that what this is about?”

“I’m saying he could do better.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

The certainty would have been impressive if it were not so pathetic.

Your smile disappeared.

Your sister noticed and pushed harder.

“I’m prettier. I know how to behave. I don’t need eight men constantly touching me and telling me how special I am.”

“Nobody is taking care of me.”

“You can barely stand.”

“I’m drunk at a party.”

“You’ve been climbing into their laps and letting them put their hands all over you. It’s embarrassing.”

Seungmin stepped away from the wall and moved to your side.

His hand settled securely at the back of your waist.

Your sister watched it.

“She hasn’t embarrassed me once,” he said.

“She’s been all over Minho. Felix practically had his hands under her clothes earlier.”

“So?”

Your sister blinked.

Seungmin’s thumb moved slowly against your side.

“She loves them,” he said. “They love her. I know exactly where I stand.”

“You should have more self-respect.”

His eyebrows rose. “You asked me to cheat on her beside a bathroom.”

“You’ve spent the whole night trying to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, “and somehow I’m the slut?”

Your sister glared at you.

Seungmin continued before she could answer. “Don’t talk to either of us about self-respect.”

“You only say that because she’s standing here.”

“I rejected you when she wasn’t.”

“You knew she’d find out.”

“I knew because I was going to tell her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend.”

Your sister shook her head. “You don’t have to keep settling because she got to you first.”

Seungmin went still.

There it was.

The belief beneath every comparison and every attempt.

You had simply reached him first.

Had she met him earlier, dressed better, tried harder or pushed for long enough, he would eventually recognise that he had chosen the wrong sister.

Seungmin’s arm tightened around you.

“I noticed her,” he said.

Your sister scoffed. “You hadn’t met me.”

“I’ve met you now.”

The hallway became very quiet.

Music still thudded beyond it. Someone laughed in the living room. Your friend called your sister’s name once, distant and uncertain.

Seungmin looked directly at her.

“And I still choose her.”

Your sister’s face changed.

For a moment, she appeared almost sober.

Then the anger returned.

“She isn’t better than me.”

“This isn’t about who’s better.”

“It always is.”

“No,” you said quietly. “It’s always been that way to you.”

She looked at you.

You could feel Seungmin watching your face.

At first, it had been funny.

Her unnecessary outfits. Her fake excuses. The way she interpreted Seungmin’s basic manners as secret attraction.

Even now, the idea that he might accept remained ridiculous.

But the joke had always required you to ignore the part where your sister could not want something without explaining why you deserved it less.

“You can want him,” you said. “I don’t care. It’s humiliating for you, but it doesn’t threaten me.”

Her mouth twisted.

“What pisses me off is that you can’t admit you want him without telling him I’m ugly, exhausting, childish or not good enough. You don’t flirt with him. You campaign against me.”

“I’ve never called you ugly.”

“You keep telling everyone you’re prettier.”

“I am.”

Seungmin made a disbelieving sound.

You glanced at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m trying very hard to remain polite.”

Your sister folded her arms. “See? You’ve turned him against me.”

“I didn’t have to. You did that by ignoring him every time he said no.”

The words landed.

Your sister looked at Seungmin.

His expression did not soften.

“I thought you were being loyal,” she said.

“I was being clear.”

“You were trying not to hurt her.”

“I was trying not to humiliate you.”

Her cheeks flushed.

Seungmin’s voice lowered. “You’ve made that impossible.”

Your friend appeared at the far end of the hallway.

She looked between the three of you, taking in your sister’s expression and Seungmin’s arm around your waist. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” your sister said immediately.

You laughed tiredly. “She asked Seungmin to have sex with her.”

Your friend’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t have to say it like that,” your sister snapped.

“How should I say it?”

“She’s drunk,” your friend said carefully.

“So am I.”

“I know.”

Your friend approached and touched your sister’s arm. “Come and sit down.”

Your sister pulled away. “Everyone’s acting like I’ve done something terrible.”

“You propositioned my boyfriend after he repeatedly told you he wasn’t interested.”

“You don’t own him.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t.”

That stopped her.

You rested more heavily against Seungmin’s side but kept your eyes on her.

“He’s a person. He said no. That should have mattered even if I didn’t exist.”

Your friend looked at your sister. “She’s right.”

Betrayal flashed across your sister’s face. “You’re supposed to be here with me.”

“I’m here because she invited me.”

The answer was gentle but firm.

Your sister looked between you.

Then she laughed bitterly. “Fine. Everyone thinks I’m pathetic.”

Nobody answered.

That seemed to hurt more than any denial would have.

Your friend held out her hand. “Come on.”

After a moment, your sister accepted it.

She allowed herself to be led back towards the living room without looking at either of you again.

You remained in the hallway.

Seungmin rubbed one hand slowly over your back.

You watched them disappear.

Then you looked at him. “You really asked why.”

His mouth dropped open.

The laughter returned before you could stop it.

Seungmin stared at you. “You’re impossible.”

“Your face was so confused.”

“She was vague.”

“She had you against a wall.”

“She said upstairs.”

“At one in the morning.”

“That could mean anything.”

“Name one other thing.”

Seungmin opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

You waited.

His expression grew increasingly offended.

“Exactly.”

He caught your waist in both hands and pulled you closer. “You’re very annoying.”

“You love me.”

“I’m reconsidering.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“No,” he admitted.

Your smile softened.

The alcohol made it difficult to hold on to one emotion for long. Amusement blurred into exhaustion, which blurred into the ache your sister’s words had left behind.

Seungmin noticed.

He always did.

“Hey.”

You looked at him.

His expression had gentled, eyes warm despite the alcohol. “Are you okay?”

“I’m extremely drunk.”

“I know.”

“She’s a bitch.”

“She is.”

“I can’t believe she said I throw myself over everyone.”

“You do,” Seungmin said, completely unbothered. “Luckily, everyone seems very happy to catch you.”

“With all of you.”

“I know.” His hand settled more firmly at your waist. “I’ve never complained.”

“And you don’t care?”

Seungmin looked genuinely confused. “Why would I?”

You shrugged. “Because she said—”

“I don’t care what she said.”

The answer came quickly enough to interrupt you.

Seungmin lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“I know you,” he said. “I know them. I know what all of this is.”

His free hand gestured towards the living room, where Felix was shouting the chorus to another song while Minho told somebody to turn the music down without making any effort to do it himself.

“You’re my girlfriend,” Seungmin continued. “That doesn’t mean you stop belonging with them too.”

Something warm tightened in your chest.

“That was disgustingly sweet.”

You kissed him.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the kiss deepened. Nothing frantic. Nothing performed for anybody else.

Just familiar affection in a dim hallway while the party continued metres away.

When you pulled back, Seungmin followed for one more kiss.

Then another.

“You’re doing too many,” you murmured.

“I’ve lost count.”

“You always say that.”

You laughed and rested your forehead against his.

“There she is,” he murmured.

Footsteps sounded behind you.

Felix appeared first, followed by Jisung and Minho.

Felix’s expression changed when he saw your face. “Are you okay?”

You nodded.

Jisung looked unusually serious. “Your friend said something happened.”

“My sister asked Seungmin to sleep with her.”

Jisung stared at Seungmin.

Then at you.

Then back at Seungmin.

“Why?”

You burst out laughing.

Seungmin pointed at him. “See? Reasonable question.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jisung said quickly. “Why would she think you’d say yes?”

“That sounded better after clarification.”

Minho stepped closer and touched the side of your face. “Are you actually all right?”

You leant into his palm. “Mostly.”

“Mostly isn’t yes.”

“She was being a bitch.”

“I gathered.”

From the living room, Changbin shouted, “If you lot are done fondling each other, we’re doing another round.”

Chan shouted back that nobody was doing another fucking shot.

Jeongin appeared in the hallway holding four.

The party carried on around you.