bsf!jungwon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀you're jungwon's favorite headache—a fact that he can't bring himself to admit, and you can't bring your dense self to realize.
MASTERLIST. ┆ CONTAINS ➤ SMAU. college!au. to be loved is to be known type shi. ACTS-OF-SERVICE!WON!!!!! he's a lil dry and nonchalant but still pathetic. reader's a bit oblivious and dumb. usage of faceclaims. fluff. profanity. comedy, maybe. petnames (princess, baby, etc.) ignore timestamps & typos. ✮ cameos from enhypen's ni-ki, riize's anton, &team's maki, illit, and other idols.
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡
RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧
FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ skullpanda + hirono = peak popmart straightship. tell me i'm wrong. also i feel bad for sooha LMASDKASDASD;LKA. free my girl PLEASEEEE.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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bsf!jungwon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀you're jungwon's favorite headache—a fact that he can't bring himself to admit, and you can't bring your dense self to realize.
MASTERLIST. ┆ CONTAINS ➤ SMAU. college!au. to be loved is to be known type shi. ACTS-OF-SERVICE!WON!!!!! he's a lil dry and nonchalant but still pathetic. reader's a bit oblivious and dumb. usage of faceclaims. fluff. profanity. comedy, maybe. petnames (princess, baby, etc.) ignore timestamps & typos. ✮ cameos from enhypen's ni-ki, riize's anton, &team's maki, illit, and other idols.
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡
RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧
FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ if someone u dgaf about ranting or yapping in ur ear js send them that "i aint reading all that" picture. 11/10 works well + bonus rage bait. also i love jo, he's unfortunately just collateral damage for the rest of the minions. 🤣
bsf!jungwon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀you're jungwon's favorite headache—a fact that he can't bring himself to admit, and you can't bring your dense self to realize.
MASTERLIST. ┆ CONTAINS ➤ SMAU. college!au. to be loved is to be known type shi. ACTS-OF-SERVICE!WON!!!!! he's a lil dry and nonchalant but still pathetic. reader's a bit oblivious and dumb. usage of faceclaims. fluff. profanity. comedy, maybe. petnames (princess, baby, etc.) ignore timestamps & typos. ✮ cameos from enhypen's ni-ki, riize's anton, &team's maki, illit, and other idols.
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡
RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧
FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ there are severe grammatical errors in the narration part that i could not be bothered retrieving or fixing so enjoy it or don't !!! also, if it isn't obvious yet, this jungwon's hella loaded but so is reader just because teehee.
bsf!jungwon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀you're jungwon's favorite headache—a fact that he can't bring himself to admit, and you can't bring your dense self to realize.
MASTERLIST. ┆ CONTAINS ➤ SMAU. college!au. to be loved is to be known type shi. ACTS-OF-SERVICE!WON!!!!! he's a lil dry and nonchalant but still pathetic. reader's a bit oblivious and dumb. fluff. profanity. comedy, maybe. petnames (princess, baby, etc.) ignore timestamps & typos. ✮ cameos from enhypen's ni-ki, riize's anton, &team's maki, illit's moka & wonhee, and other idols.
FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ posted part one and on a whim decided to make this into a mini-smau instead (yes, it's going to have more than 3 parts.) because i have so much love for bestfriend!jungwon. Don't Even Play, Lad.
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡
𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗦 ── ON-GOING.
𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗗 05/21/2026 ┆ 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗗 XX/XX/XXXX
PART O1 ── dubai chewy cookies.
PART O2 ──
PART O3 ──
PART O4 ──
PART O5 ──
RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP TAGLIST ➤ @gatowon @sisakoekiee @satorus-slut
who could've guessed that tumblr user hoonstrology would, once again, post the first part of an smau and then make the masterlist for it after realizing it would need to have a complete storyline.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
bsf!jungwon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀you're jungwon's favorite headache—a fact that he can't bring himself to admit, and you can't bring your dense self to realize.
MASTERLIST. ┆ CONTAINS ➤ SMAU. college!au. to be loved is to be known type shi. ACTS-OF-SERVICE!WON!!!!! he's a lil dry and nonchalant but still pathetic. reader's a bit oblivious and dumb. fluff. profanity. comedy, maybe. petnames (princess, baby, etc.) ignore timestamps & typos. ✮ cameos from enhypen's ni-ki and illit's moka & wonhee.
FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ i saw a soft edit of won on tiktok and got possessed by the need to make an smau because he just screams quiet yearning "i don't wanna ruin the friendship" reliable loveable bestfriend. send ideas / requests in my inbox ! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა
warnings. MDNI (there'll be a warning cut), heavy angst, alpha!jay being our target again i'm so sorry this is the last time i promise!, tw: nosebleed, softdom!heeseung because i love soft doms, p in v, fingering, missionary AND doggy because why not, unprotected sex (haih pls just don't), loss of virginity, nipple sucking, body worshipping, BITING, MARKING, BITE-MARK, heeseung cries a lot good lord but he deserves it lowkey, LIKE BONNIE AND CLYDE MAKIN' LOVEEE (insert hoonwon's voice), yes they make love your honour, and yes it's a happy ending your honour, not beta read we die like injang, tumblr pls stop with your 1000 blocks limit im gna come at you!!! lmk if i missed anything :>
word count. 15,175 words
note. i'm sorryyyyyyy for the delay sjshidshk here's the last part!!! thank you for showing this series your love and support <3
It’s finally the day of the competition.
Yet you haven’t heard from Heeseung for days.
You try not to make it obvious, nor to show how much you care. Not when Jungwon wouldn’t say anything either.
The younger alpha has been replacing Heeseung instead, walking you home while chatting about anything but the elephant in the room.
Or, in your case, the wolf in your universe.
There’s a lump of disappointment lodging in your chest whenever you think about it. You think that Heeseung has finally given up on trying to make up. You think that you’ve been too indifferent and unintentionally have pushed him away further than the two of you have ever been.
You don’t know why the thought makes you feel bitter.
“Our pitching is next,” Jungwon whispers next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watch the group before you begin their pitching presentation.
In the first stage, the pitching was done in separate rooms to make it less time-consuming. But your group has advanced to the final stage, and now you have to convince five professionals from the business industry why your business idea is better than three other groups in front of hundreds of audience.
The image makes your blazer suddenly feel too tight around your ribs. You shift, trying not to think about the eyes watching every movement of the participants sitting on the far end of the stage.
Where the hell did this many people come from, anyway? You never see this crowd in lecture halls!
“Y/N. You’re nervous.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“Well, you don’t really smell like you’re relaxed right now.”
You purse your lips. Jungwon is right, of course, except you actually feel like your nerves are on the edge of bursting.
You’re not exactly good with stage fright. Especially in front of all these people whose names sound way too dramatic, like they don’t belong to the normal citizens like you. Their eyes are too penetrative, like they’re already figuring out every single doubt and nerves in your body, ready to tackle with impossible-to-answer questions.
You move in your seat again, trying to find comfort. But the seat is too hard for your tailbone. Beside you, Jungwon leans closer, speaking over the speaker blasting by your ears.
“Are you going to Jake hyung’s after party tonight?”
“His after party?” your eyebrows shoot up. Then you remember the invitation and something inside you sinks.
“Oh. Right. It’s his birthday today, right?”
And Heeseung must be there, you think bitterly, unaware of the withering daisies now wafting from your neck. They’re close friends, after all.
You don’t understand why, or you maybe actually do, but the lump in your chest only gets bigger. Really, you shouldn’t expect much by a man. They’ll always prioritise their homeboys over you in every way, your brain adds to the fuel.
Jungwon chuckles when he sees your frown, showing off his perfect dimples that could disarm any opponent.
Something clicks in your mind. Yeap. That’s right. You just need to force Jungwon to smile in front of the judges and surely—
“Relax, Heeseung hyung’s daisy. Look to your right.”
You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of his name finally being mentioned by the younger alpha, or the flutter in your chest at being called his daisy—but your head whips so fast in that direction, heart ramming behind your ribs.
Seated at the front row, standing out too much due to his handsome features and not-so-subtle hair colour, is Lee Heeseung. From where you sit, you can’t really make out his expression.
But the alpha is already staring at you, burgundy hair swept back neatly to expose his forehead. A small curve of his lips quirks up like he’s been expecting you to notice him.
You sit dumbly as he gives you a tiny wave, not sure what to do now that the alpha is actually here.
Here. To watch your group presentation and not there: To celebrate Jake’s birthday at his party.
For the first time in weeks, you feel your omega stirs and you almost choke.
“It’s our turn!”
You inhale sharply, snapping your eyes back to the centre of the stage. The previous group is already receiving applause and walking towards the other end of the stage to join the audience.
Okay. It’s actually your turn.
You feel sick to your stomach. You almost miss it when Jungwon nudges at you to stand, smoothing down his own blazer as he shoots you a dimpled smile. On the way to the centre of the stage, your mind is nothing more than a whirlwind of overthinking.
Trailing after Jungwon in your heels is nerve-wracking because what if you trip?
Bowing down to greet the judges and audience is scary because what if you lose your balance?
Staring back at the audience is distressing because what if they silently judge your makeup?
But all thoughts fly out the window when you meet eyes with Heeseung again.
As if the noise in your head suddenly vanishes, you can feel your frantic mind quieting down and your breathing, previously quite erratic, steadies without so much effort.
And it only happens when Heeseung holds your gaze, trusting and comforting all at the same time.
It’s like the stage was a tidal wave and Heeseung was the shore that keeps you safe.
Your omega stirs again.
Before you know it, Jungwon is already passing the mic to you. You take in a shaky breath, sweaty palms almost slippery, and imagine that every cell in your brain is filing up your speech in a neat line.
Despite your worries, everything goes well.
Your presentation goes on without a hitch and it ends exactly the way your best-scenario imagination does. You even manage to answer one out of five questions from the panel, and you can’t help the pride swelling in your chest when your group is announced as the first runner-up of the competition.
It’s a national-level competition, so being in the top three is already satisfactory for you and your group members, who were lowballing to only bring home participation certificates.
“First runner up is good enough! Congrats!” you squeal, almost hugging Jungwon in your excitement. The alpha dodges you as if you were a bullet, eyes darting to somewhere behind your head.
“Hey. You dodged my hug,” you huff.
“I have no intention to challenge a dominant alpha,” Jungwon gives you a teasing smile and wiggles his eyebrows. You raise yours, and before you can ask what he means by that, Jungwon is already raising his hand and waving at someone.
“Heeseung hyung! Your daisy is here!”
Your daisy. Heeseung hyung’s daisy.
His daisy.
Crimson red blooms across your cheeks, and your heart decides to skip a few beats you think it’s going to fall to the floor from how fast it's pounding.
Jungwon is fast to grab your shoulders and turn you around, like a proud parent introducing their child to their conglomerate friends. Your protest dies in your throat once your eyes settle on Heeseung’s approaching figure.
He’s donning a white dress shirt with slightly rolled-up sleeves, exposing his smooth forearms and athin silver bracelet. A dark gray vest, tailored and buttoned neatly hugs his frame snugly, showing off his narrow waist. There’s a big bouquet of pink roses held close to his chest, handled delicately like it’s something sacred.
His eyes, round and soft around the edges, are already trained on you. A wide smile curves up his lips, charming and disarming you’re sure the omegas around you are stealing glances.
Inside, your omega stirs again.
“Hi, Y/N.” He holds out the bouquet to you, his smiling turning shy. “For you.”
You take it slowly, admiring the beautiful petals. There are tiny daisies filling up the spaces between the roses and you feel something tug at your heartstring.
“Thank you, Heeseung. How’ve you been?”
Closer, only now do you notice the lack of colour in his face. His cheeks are losing its radiant flush, and his lips are void of its usual pinkish hue. There’s a slight delay before he responds and his smile comes slower than usual.
Something feels off. Not obvious enough to name, but it’s enough to make your chest tighten.
As if noticing your stare, Heeseung tries to cover his face. He raises his hand and pretends to cough.
“I was quite sick,” he says after a moment, trying to sound casual. He gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry that I didn’t show up without any updates.”
“It’s okay,” you softly say. You don’t know if it’s truly okay, though, because now your heart thinks that there’s something wrong.
Is he hiding something from you?
“I came to see you,” he says, like it’s the only place he’s ever meant to be. “I didn’t want to miss it. Congratulations, Y/N.”
He really came for you. Not for Jungwon or anyone. Not to Jake or anyone. But for you.
You can faintly hear your omega murmuring something, but your racing heart is louder than any noise in your head.
You’re about to reply when Jungwon inserts himself into the conversation, announcing his presence like a royal entering a ball.
“Thank you, hyung! I know we were great.” Jungwon says way too loudly, forcing Heeseung to shake hands with him. You let out a laugh while Heeseung only rolls his eyes.
“You too, Jungwon.”
“Anyway, why don’t we take a picture?” Jungwon, ever the trusted wingman, wiggles an eyebrow at Heeseung, hoping that you won’t notice. You actually do, but for some reason, you don’t say anything against it.
Heeseung studies your face. “Can I take a picture with you, Y/N?”
You hesitate for a second, heat sweeping across your cheeks before you nod. “Sure.”
Jungwon instantly pushes you in Heeseung’s direction. The dominant alpha, not expecting his accomplice to take such a bold move, catches you by the elbows instinctively. His fast reflexes are proving to be useful in the situation.
“Okay, look at the camera. Y/N, don’t be so stiff!”
Jungwon, that menace. One of these days you’re gonna beat his ass for sure.
“Heeseung hyung, is that a GDP gap? Get closer!”
“I’m sorry about him,” Heeseung whispers into your ears and chuckles breathily. Something kicks in your heart. “He’s a bit annoying, right?”
You just cannot hold your tongue. “He is, and I had to stick around with him when you weren’t around,” you catch yourself saying and silently curse yourself. Beside you, Heeseung stills for a second.
Why are you already whining to him? Fuck these stupid feelings, man. You’re still mad at him!
But Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his grin only gets wider. He leans down further, hot breath brushing against the shell of your ears.
“I’ll keep trying,” he murmurs, edged with his usual determination. “Even if you don’t let me.”
You try not to notice that Jungwon has been silently snapping the candid moments. You also try to ignore the way your heart beats like a war drum. You try not to think too much about the manly pheromones coming from Heeseung—the cinnamon and sea salt that are awakening old memories, and the way his taller shoulder brushes yours.
“On three!” Jungwon interrupts, a boyish smirk on his face. You quickly clear your throat and smile at the camera.
“Two!”
Heeseung’s left shoulder bumps into you softly from behind, angling his body to face you. His hand hovers a safe distance from the back of your waist, not touching you even by accident like he’s afraid even that would be too much.
“One!”
As the flash goes off and you hold the bouquet dearly to your chest, you quietly wonder when it stopped hurting so much.
The next morning, you’re awakened by the sound of Yujin squealing and thumping on your door.
“Y/N! Get your fucking ass out now!”
The urgency in her voice makes you jolt awake and scramble to your feet. With sleepiness still clinging to your lashes, you stumble to the door, mentally preparing yourself to punch a robber.
“Yujin! What is it?!” you ask, voice hoarse but still laced with panic.
“Did you already make up with Heeseung?!”
You pause and stand there dumbly, hazy mind slowly clearing up at her sudden interrogation. With the biggest question mark on your face, you blurt out, “Huh?”
“Heeseung posted you on his Instagram!”
“Huh?”
“Y/N! He never posted girls on his account!” Yujin screams in your face, looking more excited than ever. “Fucking hell, open your damn phone!”
Yujin rushes into your room, flipping your pillows where she knows you always keep your phone despite the electromagnet radiation that she warns you about. She unlocks the screen by shoving it into your bleary face and hits the pink-purple-orange gradient icon quickly.
“There!”
You blink the blurriness away from your eyes, adjusting to the bright screen in your face. Yujin waits impatiently, gauging your reaction with wide eyes.
On the screen is the picture you took last night. You haven’t checked the result yet because you were quickly ushered away to take group pictures with other participants after and by the time you reached home, you were out the moment your head hit the pillow.
But now, you realise, the picture turns out really well.
Heeseung stands taller than you, a close-lipped smile spreading wide across his face as he stood proud and protective beside you. You have a similar smile mirroring his, leaned into him in a way that hinted at familiarity and domesticity. The pop of colour from the roses makes the picture look more alive, and the colour filter he used makes it look almost nostalgic.
An ancient feeling, like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, blooms in your chest. You stare at the picture longer than intended, then read the caption he typed in cursive.
‘smarty daisy did it again.’
You re-read it once. Then twice. The soft declaration, the hints on intimacy makes your omega purr in delight. Nobody has ever called you daisy, especially their daisy, but here Heeseung is: calling you his daisy like he’s just found a new favourite flower.
“Yujin…”
To your surprise, Yujin replies with a sniffle. When you look up, her eyes are already glossed over.
“Yujin? Why are you…”
“I’m sorry I got emotional,” Yujin cuts in, laughing it off like a funny joke with a shaky voice.
“It’s just—I never met true mates. And while the circumstances between you two weren’t great, I’m just so glad that you have an alpha willing to amend his mistakes.”
You can already feel your eyes watering.
“Yujin…”
Yujin takes your hands in her hold and urges you to sit on the mattress with her. It’s silent for a moment, and you take the chance to stare at the picture again.
It’s an Instagram story, but there is already a long line of comments. You read through each one of them, curiosity getting the best of you.
narin.kim no fucking way
jakesimisimiya hey so u ditched me ON MY BDAY
jeyipark @jakesimisimiya talk to me i am his lawyer
just.jungwon cute cute cuteeeee wonder who took the pic tho
evanlee @just.jungwon she is cute
nishimurariki welcome to the simp club
sunooyaa it’s time to ask me if my back hurts from carrying this ship
Every comment makes your breath feel shorter. You try hard to bite back a smile and ignore the small flutter in your chest, not noticing the way Yujin observes everything. When she eventually speaks, her voice has dropped to a serious tone.
“Have you forgiven him?”
You tear your eyes away from your phone, taking a moment to reply. Then, with a shake of your head, you reply, “No. Not yet, I think.”
It’s not a whole lie. While the human part of you has already forgiven him, your omega is still giving you radio silence. But for now, you decide to keep it to yourself first—the way your omega has been more responsive these days, albeit slowly and slightly.
“That’s good,” Yujin nods. “Forgiveness should come from your heart. You shouldn’t force it just because you feel bad for him.”
The words land like a gentle reminder tucking you in a warm blanket. You don’t say anything and look back at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply box. The gears of your mind start turning, looking for a polite way to thank the alpha.
Then, softly, Yujin continues, making your head spin with the weight of her words for the rest of the day.
“But when it’s really time to forgive him, I hope you don’t run away from it too.”
You end up reposting Heeseung’s story and hide.
The attention is quite heavy for you, to be honest. You’ve never been the centre of that many eyes, not since in the backyard of Jake’s frat house.
You never dare ask Heeseung as well. A reply of, ‘Thank you Heeseung’ is all you can manage, keeping the rest of the sentence to yourself.
‘Why did you post only me?’
You’re not blind. You see the chaos he created from that single post. The notorious alpha who doesn’t do relationships, who always prioritises his friends over girls is suddenly skipping Jake’s birthday to see a boring competition and posting a picture with the omega he came for. You become a hot sensation overnight—people just can’t stop talking about it.
Because of that, thoughts about him become even more frequent and inevitably, your heart starts to melt at how persistent he is.
It’s been more than a month yet Heeseung doesn’t falter. He keeps choosing you in routine. He keeps choosing you in public.
And, apparently, he chooses you in private, too.
You don’t mean to overhear the conversation, really. You’re just leaving the restroom during practice break, about to have lunch with Rei when you see two shadows disappearing around the corner. Your heart almost stops.
Seeing Heeseung and Narin together brings back old wounds that almost makes you lose your mind. Your quiet omega has been tugging you to follow, to see what the alpha is doing with the omega that your wolf has marked with a red ink on her forehead.
So you follow them quietly, covering your scent gland with a hand in hope to hide your presence. With your back to the wall, you hold your breath as you hear the conversation between the two of them.
“—on, Heeseung. You left things unfinished that night.” Narin’s voice is the one you hear first, frustration spilling into her tone.
“I don’t intend to finish it,” Heeseung replies, always sounding calm and composed. It painfully reminds you of the talk you had with him after the tournament.
“Why? You always sleep with different people. Why did I never get a chance?” Narin scoffs, disbelieving. “And they've been saying that you’ve stopped!”
“I have. I don’t do that anymore.”
“Is it because of Y/N?”
Your ear perks up. Damn bro, they’re now talking about you. It slips from your mind sometimes, about how childish Narin can be. Something akin to anticipation builds up in your chest, waiting for Heeseung’s reply.
“Yes,” he answers, firm and fast. “I’m pursuing her right now. I hope that’s clear.”
There is silence from Narin, but the spike in her scent sours the atmosphere almost instantly. While you, well, you try not to feel so giddy about it.
“Are you stupid? Her? Didn’t she cut the—”
“What happened between Y/N and I is a private matter of our hearts. It’s not your business,” Heeseung cuts in sharply with a bite to his voice. Your omega shifts inside you. “Are you done? Because I’m leaving.”
Panic ensues in your system at the thought of being caught eavesdropping. Your mind scrambles for escape, so without thinking you almost sprint to the vending machine at the end of the hallway and pretend to buy a drink.
Acting like you don’t notice them while catching your breath proves to be the hardest sport for you yet. You stare blankly at the vending machine, unaware of the grape juice sitting right under your nose and fully aware of the manly pheromones approaching you.
Thank Goddess that he smells like himself only. You think you’re going to break down if Narin’s scent clings onto him.
“Are you thinking of a different drink?” Heeseung murmurs softly, standing beside you and mimicking you staring at the machine.
You steal a glance at him, feeling the movement of your wolf becoming more responsive and bold. Behind your ribs, your heart is galloping like a horse.
“No. I still like grape juice.”
“Mhm, okay,” Heeseung fishes out his wallet and makes the purchase like it’s routine. The impact of the can dropping can’t even beat the loud pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung opens the can with one hand.
“For you.”
“Thank you.”
You take it, fingers brushing his. You try not to overthink the sparks the touch sends to your system and quietly drink, feeling his eyes boring into the side of your face.
“Y/N, I have something to tell you,” he begins, this time sounding slightly nervous. “Narin and I talked just now.”
Oh. Okay. He’s actually coming clean about it.
You didn’t expect that at all.
You nod, still not looking at him. Heeseung takes a second to himself, like he’s plotting something, then before you know it, he’s already moving to stand in front of you, bending his body to be on your eye-level.
You almost choke and take a step back.
“Heeseung?”
“I need you to look into my eyes,” he licks his lips, holding your eyes with his intense gaze. “Because I need you to know that you’re the only omega I like and I’m pursuing.”
The sincerity in his voice is almost too much, but you find savouring it instead.
“And I made that clear to her just now.”
Is he trying to reassure you?
You search his face, and all you can see in those dark eyes is utter devotion and determination.
It makes your chest tighten.
“I’m serious, Y/N. I will keep trying no matter what.”
You can only hum and nod, failing to find your voice.
“Okay.”
Heeseung shoots you with a small grin and straightens up. He glances at his smartwatch and frowns.
“I have to skip tonight’s practice. There’s a meeting about the upcoming music festival,” he says, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I’ll find someone to walk you home.”
“It’s okay. I’ll use the Safe Night Walk service,” you politely decline, already sick of hearing Jungwon talking about his lifelong crush on some noona that won’t see him as a man every time he walks you home.
Seriously, you don’t blame that omega. Jungwon is really cute, it’s hard to see him more than a kitty cat.
Heeseung’s face, on the other hand, twists into confusion before a look of understanding crosses his face.
Safe Night Walk is a service provided by the omega activist club of your university. The purpose is pretty self-explanatory, where any omega who’d like to go home at night can request an alpha to keep them safe. It’s pretty well-known for how rigid the alpha selection process is, seeing as the new president of the club is the fiercest to hold the title yet, making the service the most credible it has ever been.
Which is probably why Heeseung agrees to it too easily.
“Oh, right. Jay also tried for the selection, but he never told me if he passed or not,” Heeseung pauses, pondering about something.
“Sunghoon also signed up for it and we know each other. Do you want me to contact him?”
You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get someone when it’s time to go home.”
It’s quite hard to convince the alpha that you don’t need his friend’s service, but Heeseung eventually relents. He gives you a fond smile, walking backwards and not breaking eye contact.
“Call me if no alpha is available.”
“Okay.”
“I will run to you in ten minutes. No—five minutes.”
Your heart stutters, but your face remains neutral. “As if you can do that.”
Heeseung grins. The easy affection etched in his features is almost too scary for you to bear.
“For you, I will.”
The shared apartment is quiet save for the track playing from his producer room. Heeseung lies down on his couch, staring at the ceiling in silence. His lyrics notebook sits idly on the coffee table, open and now forgotten. Outside, the rain pouring down does nothing to wash down his guilt.
He had lied to you.
He just came back from a doctor appointment, not a meeting about any festival. A checkup meant to follow up with his condition after the night he collapsed in Jay’s arms.
‘You only have two weeks to win the omega back. If nothing succeeds, you must cut the one-sided bond, Heeseung-ssi.”
Heeseung only wants to do one thing and cutting the bond is not an option.
It’s better for him to die being yours than to live being nothing to you.
“I’m sorry,” he quietly mutters to the empty space.
“I ran away again,” he swallows thickly. “I’m still the old Heeseung in some ways. I’m sorry, Y/N.”
The pitter-patter of the rain is the only sound he receives back, thickening the guilt spilling over his chest.
He grazes the scent gland with the tip of his finger. It pulses slowly, faintly, like a calm before a storm. A storm that is just turning the key and entering the door.
“I’m home,” Jay announces, toeing off his shoes. There are tiny droplets of rain in his hoodie, but that’s not what catches Heeseung’s attention.
It’s the scent that lingers in his citrusy pheromones.
Soft daisies and sweet honey—unmistakingly you.
Jay smells like you.
Something churns violently in his stomach.
Every silent breakdown, every secret insecurity of his best friend comes crashing down on him. His blood roars in his ears that Heeseung believes he’s seeing red.
In that one single sniff that he picks up with his sensitive nose, Heeseung almost thinks that the floor holding his weight is crumbling down.
He springs up to sit, eyes narrowing down in his friend’s direction. His alpha is already growling, ready to take the other alpha down in a fight.
Jay, still oblivious to the storm building inside the house, throws Heeseung a smile.
“Hee, just now—”
“Park Jongseong,” Heeseung starts slowly, trying to hide the hurt in his voice as he stands and approaches him slowly. “Why the fuck do you smell like her?”
Jay’s expression turns into confusion. He sniffs at the collar of his hoodie and—oh.
Oh.
Heeseung can’t stand the look of realisation on his face. It’s like being left out of something that should be his, something that only he should know and have. His chest twists sharply and before he can stop himself, he’s already shoving Jay into the wall, fists trembling with restraint.
“Jay,” he breathes out, his voice treading the edges of fear and heartbreak. “Please tell me why the fuck am I smelling Y/N on your right now.”
Despite his anger, Heeseung’s voice sounds way too broken. Anxiety cracks through his demeanour, and for a moment, Heeseung’s not sure if he wants to hear Jay’s answer. There is a thin veil of tears glossing over his eyes and his scent gland is throbbing violently, shooting pain all over his body.
It’s almost like he was back in the backyard, watching you scream in pain as you smelled another woman on him. Heeseung sobs, hating himself even more than he ever did.
Was this how you felt that night?
Jay claws at the hands around his collar, almost gasping for air.
“Heeseung—it’s not what you think—”
“Then tell me! Fuck!” he shouts, eyes pleading Jay desperately to prove him wrong.
The longer he smells the blend of your scent with Jay’s pheromones, the dizzier his head gets. His frantic heart is buzzing with the thoughts of being replaced, of losing yet another chance to make things right, of losing you.
His self-esteem, already in pieces since that tragic night, is filled with doubt and uncertainty to the brim.
Not you, please. Heeseung quietly prays. Please not you, Jay.
“I walked her home!” Jay yells, face red from how tight Heeseung’s gripping his collar. His wolf whines at the unexpected aggression from his closest alpha, confused and wounded from being treated like an enemy. “She used the Safe Night Walk service and I was one of the alphas on duty.”
Hearing that, Heeseung’s grip loosens a fraction, trying desperately to believe his friend.
“It’s raining so I lent her my hoodie.” Jay quietly mutters, losing the previous edge. There’s a look of hurt on his face now that he fails to mask. He searches Heeseung’s tearful face, dread growing in his chest.
Despite the aggression, Jay cannot find it in him to be upset when all he can see in his friend is fear and hurt.
“Please, Heeseung. I will never betray you like that.”
Heeseung bites his lips until it bleeds and finally lets go. Jay almost drops down to the floor, clawing at his throat for relief. His neck has turned deep red, bruised from Heeseung’s grip.
Heeseung is strong even when he never admits it, the dominant traits in him giving him the advantage when his wolf is riled up. Jay is lucky that Heeseung didn’t use his commanding voice—he would’ve been helpless if it happened.
But deep down, Jay knows that Heeseung would never do that to him. They’re best friends, after all.
The air is thick and heavy with a dominant alpha’s wrath. Heeseung doesn’t even realise how sharp his scent has turned until he finds himself struggling to breathe.
There’s a ringing silence between the two alphas. Jay is still on the floor, chest heaving rapidly as he tries to process. Heeseung, on the other hand, is on the verge of breaking apart.
Quietly, the alpha mutters an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
Heeseung leaves the house in a storm of cinnamon and tearful bergamot, slamming the door so hard the frame rattles.
He’s never felt closer to death than tonight.
You take your time with your skincare. Or rather, you’re actually zoning out while tapping toner into your skin.
Your conversation with Jay still lingers in the back of your mind.
“Thank you for giving him a chance, Y/N. I was scared that you wouldn’t.”
What would happen if you didn’t?
You sigh and stare into the mirror. You’re freshly out of the shower and in your comfiest pajamas, yet a hint of Jay’s pheromones is still there. It seems that the rain doesn’t wash it away; it only makes it stick longer.
Inside, your omega shifts uncomfortably, unsettled by the scent of the foreign alpha. You roll your eyes.
“I know you hate it, but it can’t be helped when we haven’t forgiven him yet.” You grunt, capping your bottled product. “I mean, I already did, but since you’re like, my other half, I can’t just—”
Forgiven.
The toner slips from your hand and clatters on the floor.
Your lungs freeze.
“...What?”
I want to forgive him.
Slowly, a habit that you’re already accustomed to since that night, you place a hand on your chest. Your omega’s presence is more tangible now, like she’s finally arose from her deep slumber.
And she’s finally talking to you.
“Are you sure?” you start slowly, not wanting to offend the fragile soul. “We can take more time, you don’t have to feel rushed—”
I want my alpha, Y/N. I forgive him and I hope you do, too.
Every word fails you in that moment. You stand alone in your room, with only your wolf as your lifelong companion. There’s a strange feeling in your heart.
“Idiot. I told you, didn’t I? The stubborn one out of the two of us is you.”
He hurt us badly, Y/N. Of course I had to stand on business.
“It’s better that you did,” you hum, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. “Or else I probably won’t see this side of him and will only remember him as a bad alpha.”
Your omega doesn’t reply. In return, there’s a soft pulsing in your scent gland; something that hasn’t occurred in so long. You gasp.
But before you can process it, your phone rings, the noise slicing through the atmosphere sharply. You frown when you see that it’s your next-door neighbour, a fellow floormate that likes to borrow your detergent.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, oh my Goddess. Don’t come out!” she whisper-shouts, panic evident in her voice. “There’s an alpha outside of your door right now and he smells so bad. I think he’s dangerous. We’re about to call the security.”
Your heart drops. “What? Who?”
There’s a sound of movement and whispering before you hear a gasp.
“Okay, what the hell. It’s actually Heeseung and he’s crying,” your floormate says in disbelief. You, on the other hand, are in bigger disbelief.
Heeseung? Didn’t Yujin already let him know that you’re home?
Your feet are already padding across the tiles of your apartment, heart beating in your lungs.
“Y/N…I think you need to come out. He’s not moving at all.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
Your sweaty palm trembles at the doorknob. Heeseung’s pheromones, thick and definitely smells distressed—which explains why your neighbour said that he smells bad—seeps through the gap between the door and the floor. But he doesn’t knock, like he’s here only to feel your presence.
Your omega whines, restless from the distressed pheromones, eager to comfort. You take a deep breath before you yank the door open.
The scene that greets you almost makes you speechless.
Heeseung stands in front of you, head hanging low like he’s trying to make himself smaller. The hallways are filled with slightly open doors and heads peeking out; all the omegas and betas living on this floor are definitely curious about the distress-smelling alpha and his omega.
“Heeseung?”
He doesn’t respond at first. His breaths come out uneven—too sharp, too shallow—like his lungs have forgotten to work properly. For a second, you think he doesn’t hear you.
But then, he lifts his gaze slightly, holding back a storm behind his eyes as he looks into yours. His nose flares, and then his scent turns more sour.
“Heeseung?”
There, lingering too faintly under your body wash, your lotion, and your own scent like it’s already fading out slowly—is Jay’s pheromones.
Something finally shatters in his chest.
“You smell like him.”
His voice is grim and shaky, tugging at your heartstrings. You immediately know what he’s referring to and for some reason, an ugly feeling twists in yiur gut.
But before you can respond, Heeseung already drops to his knees.
A chorus of gasps is heard across the hallways. The bystanders are no longer caring about being seen eavesdropping. You think you even see a phone directed your way, but it’s the least of your concern now.
“Heeseung—”
“I can take anything you do to me,” Heeseung’s voice cracks, barely holding it together. “I can take any punishment you want to give me but not this.”
Heeseung cranes his neck. Trails of tears clinging to his lashes are falling his nose, his cheeks, the side of his face, down to the floor.
“Please, not him. Please—I beg you.”
His face crumples, like he’s imagining the sight of you and Jay together in his mind.
“I can’t—” his breath stutters, chest heaving like it’s caving in on itself. “I can’t do it, Y/N. I thought I could take it. I thought I deserved it, but—”
His fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, knuckles turning white.
“It hurts,” he chokes out, voice breaking into something almost unrecognisable. “It hurts so fucking bad.”
Your heart lurches.
Because you know.
You know exactly what he’s feeling.
The suffocating ache. The betrayal that sits in your lungs and refuses to let you breathe. The way your mind spirals, painting images you don’t want to see but can’t stop imagining.
It’s the same pain.
The same one he put you through.
Heeseung lets out a broken sound, shaking his head like he’s trying to rid himself of it.
“I get it now,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “I get why you looked at me like that. I get why you—”
Heeseung cuts himself off. This time, a more pained, more broken noise slips past his lips.
“I get why you ended it.”
Everything hurts. His scent gland is angry red, throbbing endlessly like a sign of the real ending. His head pounds sharply and his lungs—oh Goddess, Heeseung can’t breathe.
His body sways. Instinctively, you crouch down to his level and catch him before he can fall. Panic fills up your system when a trickle of crimson blood starts peeking out of his nose.
No. No, please no. Not this again.
You cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks shakily. You turn your face and shout at your neighbour to call the ambulance or anyone—you just can’t let this happen.
You can’t let Heeseung go through the same pain you did.
“Heeseung, please don’t close your eyes.”
His head weighs heavier as he lolls forward, eyes almost snapping shut. You let his head rest on your shoulder, not caring about the blood now staining your shirt. Hot tears brim along your lashline.
“Heeseung, please—”
“Please forgive me,” Heeseung whispers weakly into your ears. The pain is unbearable, crushing his bones and penetrating his system like a sharp-end disease—an inevitable reaction from smelling another alpha on you.
So this is what you went through, he thinks wistfully. You must be in so much pain.
“Please forgive me, Y/N.”
“Where’s the ambulance?!” You finally break, cheeks wet with tears. Heeseung has completely gone still in your embrace, adding panic to your system. You reach out to hold his face.
“No, no, please.”
The lower part of his face is smudged red. His eyes close shut, still leaking out his tears even in his unconsciousness.
You let out an ugly sob, feeling utterly broken and scared.
“I forgive you, Heeseung. Please.”
You’re so fucking scared. Scared of losing yet another life you could’ve had when you were so close to having it.
Scared of not having the chance to love and to be loved again, this time with the person your soul chooses and not because fate says so.
“Please don’t leave me again.”
When Heeseung comes to, you’re holding his hands, zoning out.
There’s a distant look in your expression. A thin air of sad, wilted daisies lingers, no doubt wafting from you. His wolf, having just woken up like him, immediately shifts restlessly in his chest at the scent.
Your thumb brushes over his knuckles absentmindedly, tracing the veins like you’re memorising something before it disappears again.
He stays quiet, letting his eyes trace every curve of your features. The pretty slope of your nose, the soft swell of your cheeks, the petals of your lips. Then they stop at your puffy eyes.
Something inside him twists uncomfortably.
Why does he always make you cry?
You don’t even notice that he’s awake yet, too lost in your head as you stare at the beige wall of the ward. Not until he squeezes your hand back, eager and nervous to see if you’ll return it back or let go.
When you feel the grip tighten, your eyes snap back to him. And then, like a small win that heals something in his heart, you squeeze his hand back.
Heeseung almost breaks down.
“You’re awake,” you say in relief and move to stand. “I’ll get the doctor.”
Heeseung obeys, never finding it in him to go against your words anymore. But his hand never lets go. He savours every second that you let him hold you—the closest he’s ever touched you since the night he saved you.
He doesn’t let go even as the doctor does a checkup on him. The doctor comes in with Jay, who looks as disheveled as he is. There’s an awkward atmosphere between the two alphas, but neither dares to say anything and lets the doctor do his job.
He was unconscious for twelve hours, apparently.
“The scenting from your omega helped speed up the recovery process,” the doctor elaborates. Heeseung steals a glance at you, gauging your reaction, but your face remains neutral.
It’s no wonder that he’s been feeling at peace since waking up—you had been scenting him when he was out.
“You just need to stay for a blood test and then you’re good to go,” the doctor continues, flashing him with a reassuring smile.
Murmurs of thank-yous ripple in the room as the three of you watch the doctor take his leave. Shortly after, the tension returns, and it’s almost obvious to you that the suffocating air comes from the two best friends.
Jay shifts on his feet awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “I’m gonna grab us lunch.”
Which leaves him alone with you in the room.
Heeseung braves himself and takes a look at you, but you’re already staring at him. Your stare unsettles him, like you’re waiting for him to confess for a crime he didn’t know yet he committed.
“How are you feeling?” you ask instead.
“I—I think I’m good. Yeah,” Heeseung says quickly, a bit taken aback. He watches as you nod, then inspect his face by blinking closer, oblivious to the way he almost explodes from the proximity.
When satisfied, you lean back slightly, but still keep a close distance with him.
“Heeseung.”
The temperature suddenly drops, and the serious look on your face damn near makes him cry. Heeseung tries to mask his panic.
Did he do something wrong again? Fuck. He messed up, didn’t he?
“Hm?”
You take a shaky breath. “Jay told me about everything.”
Heeseung freezes. Everything?
Everything as in the fight that almost broke out last night? Everything as in how pathetic he is for you, which shouldn’t be so shocking or earth-shattering because he is pathetic and a loser for you?
Or everything as in his worsening health condition?
For a moment, you just stare at him. But the more seconds pass, the more obvious it is that you’re holding back tears.
“About the two options you had.”
Heeseung stops breathing. True to his speculation, it is about his health condition. About the fate that he has to choose, about the options that stand between mercy and cruelty.
“Why didn't you tell me? No—” you shake your head, your grip on his hand trembling greatly. His lips remain shut.
“Why didn’t you just cut the bond?”
The sadness dripping in your scent feels almost physical. You hang your head low, enveloping the two of you with the distressed scent of your pheromones. A low whine echoes in your chest, not heard but felt. Your omega is just as destroyed as you are, utterly horrified from the choice he made.
What if you never forgive him? What would become of him?
Heeseung brushes his thumb over your hand consciously, trying to seep his own calming pheromones into your troubled scent. It helps, he notices, as the tremble in your hands subsides, breath evening out.
Then, with a raw honesty, he answers.
“Because I didn’t want a life where you don’t exist in it.”
There’s a lump in your throat but you swallow it down, refusing to break now that you have the chance to understand. To understand the equally wounded alpha in front of you, flawed yet still trying.
“I know that sounds selfish,” he adds quickly. “It is. I was choosing myself when I said that.”
You shake your head, tears threatening to escape. “You could’ve died, no—you almost died, Heeseung.”
“I know.”
Heeseung doesn’t argue. He looks down to your joined hands, branding his brain with the image. A soft smile appears on his lips. He wishes he could hold your hands more often.
“I just…” he exhales shakily. “I thought if I let go of the bond, it would be like I never got the chance to love you at all.”
You squeeze his hand. Your alpha, you realise, is just as soft as you are. He’s always been. It was just misunderstood and misdirected—his flaws that almost cost you your life. You resented him for it, ran from him to avoid it, made it hard for him to save yourself.
But in the end, quietly, tenderly—you find yourself forgiving him.
You understand now; what he was afraid of.
For Heeseung who used to live in short-lived attachments and practiced detachment, loving someone would sound like a too-big responsibility for him. Too lost in his own fear—fear of loving someone so much they could have power over you—he made choices that hurt you.
It doesn’t justify his actions, nor did it undo everything. But understanding him softens the pain.
“You’re so stupid,” you finally whisper, but it breaks halfway through. Heeseung looks almost hurt from your comment.
“I already forgave you.”
His head snaps up but you don’t look at him.
You take your time to speak. “I already did for a while. I was just waiting for my omega to open up her heart,” you chance him a glance and smile wistfully.
“And she did just before you came to my door last night.”
A beat of silence passes by. Heeseung can’t seem to find his voice, too stunned with the sudden grace being granted upon him.
He searches your face. For any lies, for any possible fabrication. He’s desperate to know if this was all just fragments of his dream, if you were just a manifestation of his desperation to be forgiven.
But you’re real. You’re breathing, and you’re telling him that you’ve forgiven him.
“Is this…true?” he asks, voice sounding breathy. “Don’t forgive me just because you feel bad, Y/N. I can’t live with that.”
“No, you didn’t force me,” you shake your head, returning his gaze with built-up courage.
“You earned it.”
Your scent softens, sweeter now that you finally let it out. Like the anger finally loosens its grip on your chest, you can feel your omega melts, her walls crumbling piece by piece.
Heeseung stares at you, mouth slightly agape. The weight he’s been carrying finally cracks and finally, finally—breathing finally comes easy for him now that his chest loosens.
His alpha paws at him in joy.
“Thank you, Y/N. I—” his voice cracks, and so do the tears he’s been holding back. “Oh my Goddess—thank you for forgiving me.”
Heeseung hesitates before he slowly wraps an arm around your shoulder, gauging your reaction. When you don’t push him away, he pulls you closer and you let yourself fall into his embrace.
Heeseung buries his nose in your hair, and the familiar scent of daisies and honey and your hair wash only makes him sob harder.
“Can we try again? Please?”
You nod, wrapping your arms around his waist, smiling into the hug.
“Mhm. Let’s try again.”
Trying again with Heeseung is soft and gentle.
Heeseung doesn’t change. If anything, he becomes more present than ever. If there was hesitation in his action before, he seems more confident to initiate things now.
Holding hands when you’re together. Tucking your hair behind your ears because ‘it hides your beautiful face’. Carrying your bag before you can even greet him properly. Bringing you food and trying to bake, even when you receive complaints from Jay about his oven almost catching on fire. But honestly, out of every failed experiments he did in the kitchen, it’s his ramyeon that you love the most.
And you always get it for free, presented like a five-star Michelin with radish and perfectly-made half-boiled egg. ‘Girlfriend privileges’ is what Sunoo called it, as he and the other alphas eat from their cup noodles.
With forgiveness, conversations come easy. Talking about everything and nothing with Heeseung is like trying to map a land. You finally get to know the story behind his jersey number.
‘My mom always tells me that I’m her number one,’ he told you when you asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. ‘It sticks until now, but I know that he said that only because I was sulking about being the second son—they love my brother more, to be fair!’
You never thought that Heeseung could be cute and adorable. But the two now fit his description perfectly.
Sometimes, his old habits crawl back. Heeseung still finds it hard to tell you about things that bother him, still trying to run away from ugly emotions that make him feel vulnerable.
Just like right now, Heeseung is trying so hard not to pout as he watches his teammates grab a cookie from the Tupperware you bring.
When Riki reaches for a third, his resolve finally cracks and he slaps the alpha’s hand away.
“That’s enough, you greedy alpha. Shoo!”
You stifle a laugh, basking in the rare occasion where Heeseung shows his emotion almost openly like this. He doesn’t like sharing, of course, but he says nothing—which unsettles you a bit.
“Are you mad?” You finally ask after pulling him out for some privacy.
He doesn’t reply. Heeseung takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then shakes his head.
“I’m not mad.”
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” you coax him again, reminding yourself that Heeseung is still trying to unlearn some of his bad habits. “I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me.”
Heeseung gnaws at his lips and avoids your eyes. He knows, with a devastating resignation, that he could never refuse if he looks. So he doesn’t look.
But your scent does the same damage anyway. It’s sweet, it’s too intoxicating and Heeseung can feel himself melt even before he can protest.
He finally relents. “Okay,” he sighs.
Heeseung reaches out and takes your fingers in his, clutching at your smaller ones like a lifeline.
“Y/N…” he starts, contemplating his words, unconsciously pouting. “Can’t you bake only for me and not…share?”
You bite back a grin.
“See? It isn’t hard to tell me,” you squeeze his hand. “You can tell me anything, Heeseung. I will always listen.”
Heeseung gives you a pouty nod.
As for him, Heeseung thinks he was never happier than he is right now.
There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest every time he does something for you.
Be it walking you home, or waiting at the lobby of your apartment to walk to the campus together. Or feeding you food and having a can of grape juice always ready for you.
All the things he used to avoid—doing domestic things, having one person to devote all his attention and affection to—they become things that bring his heart at ease now.
And Heeseung loves being taller than you. He loves when you have to look up to talk to him, or the way you can easily hide your face in his chest when he says something corny. The way he can reach the higher shelf for you and become useful to you. He loves towering over you because every time he does it, he can’t help but notice the sweet spike in your scent.
You love it too.
Over time, the two of you get closer than ever. Every brush of hands, every bump of shoulders, every laughter shared—they only bring you back to him, and him to you. And slowly, like a prophecy finally meeting its destiny, the red thread finds its way back to you.
“Are you sure about this?”
You’re now standing in between his legs while Heeseung sits on the mattress of his bed, craning his neck to search your face.
Your fingers pause in his hair when you feel a faint pulse beneath his skin.
A reminder that he’s still hurting from the one-sided bond. A reminder of the weight of fate tying the two of you.
Heeseung could’ve walked away like you did. He could’ve defied his wolf and cut the bond. But he did nothing of those.
He’s still here, still choosing you in every way you keep choosing him.
“I want this, Heeseung,” you whisper back, carding your fingers through his burgundy hair. “I’ve never been so sure.”
One of the things that the both of you learn more about the relationship is the importance of the sacred bond. This time, you’re no longer running away or denying it—you and Heeseung take time to learn about its history, about the nature of the bond—and in your case, about how to fix the broken bond.
“It must come from your wolves,” you remember Jay’s mom saying. “And only then can you commemorate the bond and heal it for good.”
Commemorating, in this context, is to finally mate with your alpha.
It’s a big leap in the relationship, especially since you’re every way inexperienced. Heeseung knows this; which is why he never rushed you and let himself take the hit of the broken bond.
To the Goddess, without the commemoration, the bond is still considered one-sided. It results in Heeseung still experiencing pain from time to time and, after another nosebleed pre-game and out of care for your alpha, you decide you’re done taking your own time.
Your omega holds the sentiment as you, not having the heart to let the alpha suffer for your own sake.
Noticing your silence, Heeseung grabs your wrist gently and brings it to his nose. He starts nosing at the tender skin, pumping out his calm pheromones as he bathes you in his scent.
“Have you been with anyone else before?”
You hesitate. Then, with a shy smile, you shake your head.
“No.”
Contrary to your expectation, Heeseung stills immediately. His face crumples slightly and his phereomones—previously calming and comforting—suddenly takes a sour turn.
You frown. “Heeseung?” You hold his face, heart clenching at his trembling lips. “What’s wrong?”
When he looks up to you, there are silent tears spilling down his cheeks. It alerts you almost immediately.
“Hee?”
“I—” Heeseung takes a deep breath, but his lips wobble, betraying his effort to remain calm.
“I touched people like it didn’t mean anything,” his voice breaks. Heeseung closes his eyes, like the mere looking into your eyes was too much for him to bear. “And now you’re standing here like this is something sacred and I—”
When you understand what he means, you can feel your own heart breaking.
“Heeseung…”
“Why are you letting me handle something this—precious? I—I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I never did.”
“Please don’t say that,” you coo at him, wiping his tears with the pad of your thumb.
“I chose you knowing everything you’ve done,” you whisper. “Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re trying.”
Heeseung leans into your touch, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. Like the warmth of your touch is the only thing that keeps him grounded. A comfortable silence falls upon you two, full of warm understanding and acceptance.
“Thank you,” Heeseung kisses your palm, long and gentle. “Thank you, Y/N. I mean it.”
A smile creeps up your face. You lean down to kiss his forehead.
“Come and sit here,” Heeseung pats his thighs. You pause for a moment, already getting shy from the proximity. But deep down, you can’t deny that you want this.
Slowly, you descend onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Heeseung pulls you closer by your hips, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle.
“Are you comfortable?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” then you pause. “I’m not heavy, am I? Are you comfortable?”
Heeseung hums. “Your weight is perfect for me, baby.”
The term of endearment makes warmth bloom across your cheeks. Heeseung gazes at you fondly, his nose already inching closer to where your scent smells the strongest.
He takes a lungful of your sweet scent—daisies and honey—and almost groans from the feeling of it. His favourite scent in the world. It’s been so long since he got to have you like this, so he keeps scenting you like he’s taking his fill.
“Your scent—you smell so good, Y/N.”
He lets his nose graze your scent gland. Once, twice, before brushing it with small, slow licks. You clutch at his shoulders, sparks bursting from the touch.
“Mhh!”
Heeseung trails up wet kisses up the column of your neck, dragging his tongue along your skin, savouring the soft gasps leaving your parted lips. His grip on your waist tightens, nails digging into your camisole while you try not to lose your mind over the foreign sensation.
Everywhere Heeseung touches with his lips is hot, sending strange, tingly feelings up your spine. It’s wet and it should make you recoil, but you find yourself loving it, already wanting more.
Heeseung stops when he reaches your lips, hot breath brushing against the soft pair. His eyes, now hooded and dark, are losing their round shape, like he, too, is already unraveling from just this.
“I’m gonna kiss you now, my daisy,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your parted lips, open and so inviting. Something churns inside your stomach, always keening when being called his daisy.
Then you nod, granting him permission.
“Please kiss me, Heeseung.”
There’s a tiny quirk of a smile, before he finally closes the gap between your mouths. He’s careful, caressing the plump of your lips with his own, tentatively and slowly at first, before he captures your mouth in his. You close your eyes.
Heeseung kisses you like it’s sacred. He moves slowly, allowing you to follow his pace and getting used to the feeling of his mouth on yours. It’s gentle and sweet. It’s everything you have imagined sharing a kiss with a lover.
His lips, soft and wider than yours, easily dominate the kiss with a flick of his tongue.
Your lips part in a gasp and Heeseung takes the chance to prod his tongue in, licking into every corner of your mouth like he’s been starved for you. You clasp a hand in his hair, losing your pace as Heeseung takes over.
With each passing second, the kiss turns into a needier one and you grow hotter. It’s messy now, with drool leaking down your chin and the noises you make getting louder. When you start to feel lightheaded, you tap his shoulders, lungs burning from the lack of breath.
Heeseung lingers for a second, as if he never wants to let go, before detaching from your lips.
He looks absolutely wrecked. His lips are shiny with spit, panting into your mouth like he needs more.
“Need some air?” he whispers, voice hoarse, caressing your waist tenderly. You nod, catching your breath before you lean in and try to kiss him again.
This time, Heeseung lets you take the lead, grabbing your hips tight enough to ground himself. You mouth at the corner of his lips, peppering kisses across the pinkish skin before he loses his patience and starts kissing back, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.
Pulling you flush against his own hips, Heeseung is desperate to feel you closer. The scent of his pheromones is taking a richer, darker tone, dripping with building arousal. He wants to stay like this forever—wants to memorise every taste, every curve of your lips, and carve it into his memory.
You’re unraveling just as fast. Driven by a deeper need to feel each other and more, you pool your arms around his neck and pull him closer, instinctively bucking your hips to soothe the ache between your legs.
Beneath you, Heeseung freezes. A strangled groan catches at the back of his throat, his fingers digging into your hips. His head is on cloud nine; he can’t believe you just did what you did, feeling his own lust slowly getting thicker.
Then, as if testing, you roll your hips again.
This time, the sound that leaves his throat is deep and ragged. Heeseung bites his lips, brows pinched together, his restraint visible through the veins popping in his neck.
“Y/N,” he rasps, voice strained. “Good? Comfortable?"
Your eyes, dazed and glossed over, look into his eyes and you nod. You move your hips again, chasing the delicious friction like a lifeline. “More.”
“Fuck,” Heeseung curses under his breath.
Wordlessly, he snakes an arm around your waist and flips your position. Your back meets the mattress before you can process it, the impact punching a breath out of your lungs. Heeseung hovers over you, chest heaving rapidly, heated gaze raking over your body like he’s already dreamed of this many times.
“Heeseung,” you sigh, lifting your arms to his nape, already hating the distance. “Want you closer.”
Heeseung thinks he’s still in a dreamland, because there’s no way you’re lying down under him, hair splayed like a halo, asking him for more. Your lips, kiss-bruised and bitten-raw from the previous makeout session, are parted in a soft gasp, looking every bit like his wet dream.
No. This is better than any of his dreams.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out as if he’s in a daze, a willing hostage to your magical spell. “Fuck, I just—I just love you so much.”
The confession lands like a feather drifting through the air. Your breath catches in your throat, searching for Heeseung’s eyes and almost tearing up when you see only devotion and sincerity in his gaze.
“Heeseung…”
“My precious daisy,” Heeseung lowers down and gives a smooch to the back of your ear. Your breath hitches. “My sweet, sweet honey.”
Another wave of heat pools between your legs. His voice—oh Goddess, his sweet and sultry voice in your ears, accompanied by such adoration is almost too much. You whine, clutching his shirt in a desperate grip.
“What do you need, baby?” Heeseung breathes hard into your ears, his own voice almost cracking from restraint. “Tell me, hm?”
“Need you to touch me.”
He barely stops nibbling on the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “Where do you need me?”
You grab one of his wrists and bring it to where you need him most. The moment his fingers touch your soaked sweatpants, Heeseung lets out a deep, throaty groan. He pulls away slightly just to catch the expression you make—mouth agape, eyes closing shut—as he presses a finger on your cunt.
“Here? You like it here?”
“Y-Yes—” You purse your lips, pleading eyes peering into his dark gaze. “Please—More, please.”
Heeseung holds back a smirk. “You’re so good to me,” he purrs, his alpha swelling with pride and arousal. “I’m gonna give you everything you ask for, hm?”
Heeseung slips his hand into your panties and curses out loud at the wet sensation on his fingers.
“Fuck, Y/N—you’re leaking.”
He props himself on one arm. His long, slender fingers stroke your folds, the wet sound of your arousal filling the room. You claw at his upper arms and arch your hips, letting out a broken breath.
“H-Heeseung!”
A deep growl rumbles in his chest. Heeseung leans down and peppers kisses all over your cheeks as he flicks his thumb over your clit. The high-pitched, whiny moan that you let out makes his twitching cock kick and drool, already begging to be freed.
“Does that feel good?” he rasps, nudging at your hole with the tip of finger. The tight hole is almost sucking his finger in, eliciting a breathless moan out of your lungs.
You nod frantically, desperate to feel anything inside.
“‘Feels so good, alpha.”
“Mhm,” he purrs, circling your gaping hole lightly, teasingly. “I’m gonna put it in slow and nice for you and you’re gonna take it, ‘kay?”
You suck in your bottom lips, heat pooling low in your stomach at the deep timbre of his voice.
“Yes. Please give it to me.”
Heeseung almost melts at the big eyes you’re giving him. He gives you a soft peck and speaks against your mouth, “Tell me if it hurts, Y/N. I will stop immediately.”
When you give him the green light to go, Heeseung slowly pushes his middle finger in, fighting back a loud moan at the feeling of your walls sucking him in. He pauses for a moment, gauging for any discomfort in your face, and then starts pumping in and out gently when he sees only pleasure.
It feels strange and uncomfortable at first; having something inside you. But the subtle feeling of pain is slowly disappearing the longer he shoves his finger in. His thumb, eager to please you, keeps circling your swollen nub, adding to the building sensation in your stomach.
Before you know it, you’re already leaking out more slick. Your head thrashes to your left and right, breathy moans spilling out of your lips.
“Ngh—fuck—Hee—“
Heeseung forces himself to stay still; forces himself to breathe at the sight of you unraveling and so, so pliant under his touch, even when all he wants to do is ruin you. He inserts another finger, the additional stretch burns so good that you almost cry.
“Heeseung!”
The alpha lets out a heavy, ragged breath as his fingers skillfully scissor you open, willing your walls to loosen for him. His lips fall open as he watches you fist the mattress with a tight grip, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.
Heeseung thinks he’s about to come just from watching your erotic expressions alone.
“Ah—ah—ngh!” You squirm and whine and writhe, throat scratchy from how long you’ve been keeping your mouth open.
Heeseung’s eyes darken as he takes in the way the straps of your camisole fall down your shoulders. The soft swell of your chest moves up and down in a rapid breathing, nipples peeking out just enough to tease.
Fuck—you’re a sight to behold.
He can’t think straight, not when every sense is filled up with your thick, heady scent. Your slick, where it smells the strongest, is now pouring out of your gaping hole in waves and drenching his fingers down to his wrist, making the tent in his pants tighten painfully.
“I’m gonna add one more—fuck,” Heeseung almost chuckles in disbelief at the way your body sucks him in. “Your cunt is a little greedy, baby. Might just take all my fingers in.”
You’re already a mess of broken moans and high-pitched, ‘ah—ah—fuck’. The sensation is becoming too much. You have fingered yourself before, but they don’t have the girth of Heeseung’s long and slender ones; reaching deep inside where you can’t get before, or the roughness of the pad of his thumb circling on your clit relentlessly—bringing you closer to the edge faster than you can think.
Heeseung can already feel it. Your greedy little hole is catching at his fingers even tighter, signalling how close you are to cumming. He leans down, latching his mouth on your neck and littering it with bruising kisses that are going to leave marks, increasing the speed of his wrist until your hips lift off the mattress.
“H-Hee—! I’m—God, fuck—“
“Give it to me, my daisy,” he whispers, voice hoarse and rough from arousal, thumb flicking faster. “That’s it. Give everything to me.”
Heeseung watches closely as you close your eyes and mouth falls open as you come, the erotica of everything almost makes his neglected cock bust out. A feeling of intense ecstasy floods your system, crashing through your body, slick gushing out in waves upon delicious waves.
The alpha slows down the movements of his wrist, thumb circling lazily as he lets you ride out the high. He’s already dizzy from your pheromones, so sweet and inviting, that he almost pushes you into oversensitivity.
He plops out his fingers and puts it into his mouth, tongue lapping at the nectarine of your slick like a thirsty dog. His alpha hums in satisfaction at the sweet taste of his omega’s come, all drenched and warm just for him.
“Fuck, Y/N,” Heeseung hovers over your body again, now kissing you hard in pent-up hunger. “I wanna eat you out so badly but I just can’t wait anymore.”
You hum into the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Heeseung parts for a moment, jagged breathing hitting your lips warm as he stares into your eyes. His gaze softens.
“Are you okay?”
You nod. “‘M’kay.”
Heeseung nuzzles his cheek against yours, hands sliding up and down your waist before slipping under your camisole and cups your breasts. You let out a half-shocked gasp.
“Can you take more, baby?” He murmurs against your ears, teetering on the edge of sanity as he listens to the sinful sounds leaving your mouth. “Can you take my big, fat knot this time?”
You can’t find your voice, too lost in pleasure as Heeseung kneads your breasts and plays with your nipples. Heeseung drags his tongue along your earlobe, desperate to hear you more.
“Look at these perky tits,” he says as he drags down your camisole, letting it bunch around your waist. His mouth gapes at the way the plump flesh spilling over his fingers, so soft and yielding. “Fuck—you’re so beautiful, Y/N, I will fucking cry.”
“Nnggh!” You cry out when he latches his mouth on your left nub. He sucks and grazes his teeth on your hardened nipple, never breaking eye contact, the wet sensation sending heat straight to your core.
“Hee!” Your hand flies into his hair when he sucks particularly hard at the bottom swell of your breast, marking his territory. His rough fingers fondle your right tit, rolling the perky nub with reverent attention that makes you clamp your thighs shut.
You squirm, feeling another pool of slick gathering. “H-Heeseung—!”
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he lets go with a pop, lips shiny and slick with his own spit. “Please say my name like that again,” he requests, simultaneously rolling his hips to gauge your reaction.
As he expected—your body, so sensitive and pliant in his hold—immediately writhes from the friction. Heeseung watches with awe, nose twitching as another wave of your scent floods the room, mixing with the sultry accent of his cinnamon and seasalt almost too perfectly.
“Heeseung!”
Heeseung feels so dizzy. His thoughts are only filled with your name, your voice, and your pretty, pretty face that contorts in pleasure when he grinds more. His crotch area is already so fucking wet from pre-cum and your arousal that he thinks he’s losing a chance at any decent and coherent thoughts.
He gives you another roll, and when the name that leaves your swollen lips comes out broken and high-pitched, Heeseung decides that he can’t take it anymore.
“I’m gonna fuck you now, my daisy,” he rasps, leaving one last mark on your cleavage before sitting up. He helps you out of your clothes, marvelling in the way your body trusts him completely.
You’re all soft lines and gentle curves. Heeseung loses his breath as he traces his eyes from the soft mounds of your chest—littered red from his markings, to the narrow pinch of your waist, and the flare of your hips. He caresses the flesh with his hands, gripping it like a love handle as he revels in the contrast of his tanned, big hands on your soft, unblemished skin.
And your pussy—fuck, it’s still glistening from your previous climax and his ministrations, and is now getting wetter under his heated gaze alone.
But it’s the look in your eyes that completely undoes him—pure trust and devotion only for him that he so damn near cries.
“So beautiful,” he praises again, unable to stop the word from flowing out of his mouth. He slides down his hands down your thighs, groping the supple flesh, almost moaning from the sheer softness of it.
“Every inch of you is perfect, baby,” he husks, intoxicated by your pheromones invading his senses.
You hold your breath, peering up at the dominant alpha through your lashes. In a moment of such vulnerability, your chest is filled with affection and trust only for the man now handling your body with care, as if your body was made of porcelain.
My alpha, your wolf purrs inside, heart pounding into your chest.
You spread your thighs wider, so inviting and pliant.
“Alpha,” you mewl, nervously looking up at him. “Please.”
Heeseung can feel his dick twitching from the sight alone. With a swift movement, his shirt is already discarded, thrown somewhere on the floor.
“Say it clearly, baby. Tell me what you need.”
Heeseung fumbles with the strings of his sweatpants as his hooded gaze bores into your hazy one, hissing when his aching cock is finally springing free from the confines of his pants.
You almost drool at the sight of his weeping cock, standing tall and proud against his abdomen. Its tip is angry red, leaking precum down the length of prominent, bulging veins. Your hole flutters with dripping need.
The words come out so easily now that your pussy is pulsing with an aching need to be filled.
“Please fuck me, Heeseung.”
Heeseung’s lips are bitten raw from restraint, his jaw tight as he forces himself not to move—not to give in to the urge to push forward and lose himself inside you. But before he can move to get a condom from the drawer, your hand snaps to his wrist, shaking your head no.
“Just—just do it,” you bite your lips trying not to squirm under his darkening gaze. “I want to feel you.”
It takes everything in him to stay still—to not reach for you, not pull you back, not ruin this by losing control. Heeseung looks for any doubt in your face.
“Are you sure, baby?”
“Mhm,” you tug at his wrist, guiding his hand to cup your pussy. Heeseung almost combusts right then and there.
“Quick, Heeseung. Need you here.”
“Oh my fucking God—” Heeseung curses under his breath, trying to remain calm. But his body betrays him, his muscles tensing, breath unsteady, as he forces himself to stay where he is.
He sits taller, his thumb rubbing your clit teasingly. His other hand strokes his cock lazily, flicking his wrist around the erection and hisses when more precum drools out.
The whole time, he doesn’t let go of your eyes, taking in every micro-expressions you make like a greedy man. You’re so sensitive, so expressive, and so, so wet—always so eager to shower him with more slick and more of your sultry moaning.
He aligns his cock in between your folds, grinding the bulbous head against your swollen clit. A choked moan escapes both of you, too fucked over the pleasure. Another gush of slick trickles down your hole, intensifying your scent.
“Heeseung—”
“Shh, baby, I know,” Heeseung coos at the tears pooling along your lashline. He reaches out to wipe it, torn between guilt and absolutely fucking pleasure that he feels from seeing you break apart at his hand like this.
“I’m gonna be gentle, yeah?” He rasps, still rolling his hips, gathering your slick around the tip of his cock.
He trails his fingers down your wrists before pinning them over your head, hovering over you completely like an eclipse. Then, after what felt like a lifetime, Heeseung finally pushes in.
He doesn’t move after that.
A broken breath leaves him, forehead dropping to your shoulder as if the effort of holding himself back is physically weighing on him. His grip on your wrists tightens just slightly, seeking something to ground him to the moment. Beneath him, you’re trembling from the mix of pain and pleasure, the latter outweighing the former.
“Y/N…” he exhales, voice rough, almost unsteady. “Look at me.”
There’s something in the way he says it. It’s not commanding or urgent, like he really needs to see you or he’ll fall apart.
You turn your head, meeting his gaze, your expression soft but overwhelmed, lips parted as you try to steady your breathing. It stings, but not enough for you to pull away. Heeseung did a good job at preparing you.
He searches your face like it’s the only thing anchoring him.
“Am I—” he swallows, jaw tightening. “Am I hurting you?”
You shake your head, even though the feeling is new, intense, more than you expected. But the way he’s holding himself back, the way he’s watching you like this could fall apart at any second—it steadies you. Heeseung is so careful, so scared of hurting you that it almost makes you cry.
“It’s… okay,” you whisper, fingers twitching under his hold. “Don’t stop.”
His eyes squeeze shut for a second, like he’s bracing himself, like your trust is something he has to deserve in real time.
“Slow,” he mutters to himself more than to you. “Gotta go slow…”
He barely shifts, testing, careful, measured. Like every movement is something he has to think through instead of give in to. He sinks in another inch, mind floating from the tight sensation of your hole. A strained sound slips past his lips, low and wrecked, his control slipping just enough to show.
“God…” he breathes, almost shaking. “You feel—”
He cuts himself off, jaw clenching hard, like even finishing that sentence would push him too far.
Instead, his hand comes down to your waist, grounding himself there, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin like he needs something soft to hold onto.
You can feel it—how much he’s holding back. Not just physically, but everything. The way his body tenses with every tiny movement, the way his breathing keeps stuttering like he’s constantly pulling himself back from the edge as he pushes inside, inch by inch.
And something in your chest tightens.
“You can move,” you murmur softly, a little unsure, but still wanting. Wanting him, wanting every side of him and not just this careful version of him.
His head lifts immediately.
“No,” he says, almost too quickly. Then his voice grows softer. “Not if you’re not ready.”
Your brows knit slightly, a small shake of your head.
“I am,” you insist, voice quiet but certain. “I trust you.”
Your declaration hits deeper than anything else.
For a moment, he just looks at you—really looks—like he’s trying to understand how you can still say that to him. Then his grip tightens again; a firm grip that anchors you to the moment.
“Okay,” he breathes.
And this time, when he moves, it’s still slow—but there’s something underneath it now. Not just restraint, but a crack in it. A quiet, dangerous edge that slips through no matter how hard he tries to hold it back.
His forehead presses to yours, breaths tangling, uneven.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, softer now. “Anything—you tell me, yeah?”
You nod, already clutching onto him, already feeling yourself giving in to the rhythm he’s so carefully trying to control.
God, Heeseung tries not to lose himself completely. Chanting ‘Go slow, go fucking slow,’ like a mantra in his head is proving to be the hardest test he’s ever been through.
But he still tries—even when it starts slipping crack by crack.
You can feel it in the way his pace stays measured, like every pound into your walls is a calculated move. It makes your heart flutter, really, but you want more.
You don’t know how to say it without sounding desperate, but your body knows you better. Instinctively, you clench around his cock. The action is not fully registered in your head until Heeseung’s rhythm falters.
“Y/N…” he exhales, your name catching in his throat like it’s too much for him to hold.
“More,” your fingers tighten around his arms, pulling him impossibly closer. “More, please.”
You tighten your walls again, drawing a shuddering gasp from him. His head drops forward as his control stutters, cock twitching inside you.
“Don’t,” he starts, half-warning and half-whining, “Don’t do that or I’m—”
You can’t stand it anymore. You meet his thrust, hitting his navel with yours, gasping because the sensation feels too good. A broken groan leaves him, deep and absolutely fucking wrecked.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, gripping your hips tighter. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Heeseung kisses up the length of your neck, leaving more marks before he props his arms. When you catch his eyes, something flickers in that heated gaze, like his control is finally slipping away, snapping with the way he pistons his cock into you. You choke out a breath.
“Okay?” he asks, still worrying. You nod frantically, desperately.
“Yes—please—more—”
Heeseung does it again. Again and again and again until all there’s left is the sound of your broken gasps and the wet, filthy noise of his balls hitting your hole.
“Still—fuck—still okay?” he asks, voice rough, barely held together.
You can’t form any coherent thoughts, so you nod again, breathless and more certain this time. “Please…don’t stop.”
Heeseung lets out a curse, lifting your hips slightly before continuing pounding into you, faster and harder. A high-pitched moan rips from your throat, the new angle hitting the spot that has you seeing stars.
He watches your face, his own contorting in pleasure, setting a pace that has you blabbering out broken words and more drool.
You feel so full. His cock is so deep inside you, filling you up to the hilt. It’s a strange feeling, but it’s also so, so addictive that you just want more, more, and more. It’s the only thing you can ask for: “More, more—Heeseung—ah—please.”
Heeseung leans down, taking your earlobe into his mouth, alternating his pace between achingly slow rolls of his hips and harsh, sharp thrusts, whispering hotly into your ears.
“You’re taking me so well.”
“So fucking tight, baby, fuck.”
“My daisy. My honey. My everything.”
The heat in your stomach intensifies, building up like a tidal wave waiting to crash. Your nails dig into his biceps, meeting his heated gaze with your glassy one.
“Mate with me, Heeseung. Please.”
Heeseung almost stops, but you’re fast to hook your legs around his waist, urging him to continue. He continues with slower grinding, locking eyes with you.
It’s finally time to seal the bond for good. But even in the haze of pleasure and nirvana, all Heeseung cares about is your well-being.
“Now, baby?” he whispers in between thrusts. He catches your jaw in his hand, thumb brushing your cheeks softly. He knows it’s bound to happen tonight anyway, but if he can save you from the pain longer, he will. “It will sting, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”
You nod, never felt more sure than now. You lean up to kiss him, breath mingling hotly before you look into his eyes.
“I trust you, Heeseung,” you whisper back. You grind back into him, hips stuttering when his cock thrusts almost sharply into your cunt.
With broken gasps, you finally say it. “Please mark me yours.”
Heeseung almost tears up from the sheer weight of your words.
Trust. Yours. Mine.
Something that the old him would’ve never imagined wanting and needing.
But here, as your starry eyes gazing into his teary gaze, Heeseung’s never felt so full and complete. He doesn’t even know that he was capable of loving someone this much; of this overwhelming affection that he has only for you.
A single drop of tears slides down his cheek as he kisses you again, trying to convey his emotions into the sweet touch. You respond just as reverent, understanding him without words being spoken.
“Do you trust me?” he murmurs against your mouth. His hips are slowing down, getting lost in the warm sensation of your breath and your sweetening scent.
You give him a peck. “I do.”
Heeseung smiles fondly. He leaves one last kiss on your forehead before he sits up, pulling out of you at the same time. You almost whine at the loss of touch, but he’s quick to reassure you.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
Then, with a dominating strength that makes your stomach flutter, he grabs your waist and flips you over. You arch your back almost instinctively, shoving your ass in the air. Heeseung groans, his alpha howling in pride at seeing his omega presenting like this. His jaw clenches from restraint, absolutely close to losing his mind over this sight of you.
His cock slips back in easily. Heeseung splays a hand over the skin between your shoulders, pushing you gently into the mattress.
You glance over your shoulders, wiggling your ass and pushing it further into his face. “Like this, Heeseungie?”
Heeseung bites his lips, mouth salivating from the sight. “Yeah, baby.” He is so fucking turned on. “I’m gonna move now, yeah?”
At the single movement of your head, Heeseung is already thrusting inside, barely holding himself back. The new angle gives more access to his cock to hit places you didn’t know exist in your walls, sending sparks of electricity to your nerves.
“Ah, ah—nnghh!! Heeseungie!”
“Keep saying my name like that, baby,” Heeseung drools over the jiggles of your round ass. He kneads the flesh with his thick fingers, moaning at the dimples his nails make by digging into it.
“So soft. So beautiful,” he grinds and rolls his hips, leaning down to bite down on your buttcheeks. You clench around him. “So responsive for me. God—you’re perfect, Y/N.”
“I’m—I’m close—”
“Oh, I can feel it, baby,” Heeseung grunts through his teeth. Your walls keep sucking him back in, as if refusing to let go. “I’m close too—fuck.”
Heeseung picks up his pace, his muscles flexing as he, too, almost reaches his high. He leans down, broad chest meeting your back and noses at your pulsing scent gland, sweat dripping down his chin.
It’s intoxicating, the way your scent blends in with his pheromones, like a perfect match made in heaven—which might not be so far from the truth. He is your true mate, after all, written in the prophecy for God knows how long.
He can feel how close you’re getting, your whining turning needier and messier. His canines sharpen slowly, readying himself to mark you.
You drool into the mattress, incoherent words leaving your mouth. The coil in your stomach tightens, so close to snapping, so close to bringing you over the edge.
And it’s with a flick of his thumb over your clit that you finally give. You go still, shockwaves of your release rippling through your body, pulling Heeseung with you as he cums, spraying your insides white.
Following his promise, Heeseung chooses that exact moment to sink his teeth in your nape, right over where your scent gland is. You yelp, body trembling from the intense feeling of pain and pleasure.
The feeling is otherworldly—like something inside you finally clicks into place.
A warmth blooms from where he’s marked you, spreading through your body in slow, overwhelming waves. It’s not just the sensation—it’s him. You can feel him in a way you’ve never felt before, like his presence has settled beneath your skin, threading into every part of you.
Your fingers clutch at the sheets, breath stuttering as something inside you tightens and softens. You feel complete, like the quiet ache you never noticed has finally disappeared.
Heeseung groans softly against your skin, almost like he feels it too—like the bond snaps into place just as strongly on his end. His hold on you tightens, not possessive, but grounding, as if he needs to make sure you’re real, that this is real.
He quickly laps at the blood and the wound, tongue gentle now, almost reverent as he soothes the mark he’s just made. His hips slow down, now grinding into you lazily to ride out the wave before you mewl from oversensitivity.
He pulls out after a while and gently turns you back to face him. As soon as he locks eyes with you, Heeseung’s composure breaks instantly, tears spilling down his cheeks. He catches your lips in a wet kiss.
“My daisy,” he cries, cradling your jaw and never intending to let go. “Oh Goddess—I love you so much.”
His voice, broken and gasping with gratitude and relief, moves your heart in ways that unravel you just the same. You kiss back just as hard, heart finally full and complete.
Your omega purrs in satisfaction, and to your surprise, you can almost hear another wolf echoing back to yours.
It doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s Heeseung’s wolf—your alpha, finally and wholly yours.
Heeseung breaks the kiss only to rest his forehead against yours. Your scent gland pulses, but this time, it’s gentle and grounding, like a mark of a new beginning; a bond now finally healed and sealed.
“Y/N,” he breathes out against your mouth. “Don’t get tired of me yet, okay? I… I cherish you so much. ‘I love you’ doesn’t feel like enough.”
You let out a soft giggle and pull him closer, sealing your lips with his again.
“Then don’t say anything. Show me, my alpha…show me that we belong to each other.”
As moonlight spills into the bedroom, a blessing from the Goddess for the mated pair, the sheets bear witness to the moment two fractured souls finally become one.
You wake up before Heeseung.
Trying to remove his arms from your waist proves to be a real challenge; the alpha refuses to let you go even in his sleep. You chuckle softly and plant a kiss on his forehead before slipping out of the blanket.
Standing on slightly wobbly legs, you drift into the kitchen, your throat screaming for water. You let the sunshine hit your skin, highlighting your afterglow, as you down a whole glass of water.
The house is quiet. Jay, with the intention to give the two of you privacy, has gone to visit his parents for the weekend. You silently thank him for it. You don’t want to know how awkward it’d be if he has to hear all the noises you made last night.
Just as you’re about to return to Heeseung’s warm embrace, your eyes catch a sign on another door. It’s located at the end of the hallway, a few paces away from Heeseung’s and Jay’s bedrooms. It’s almost unnoticeable, but the name on the sign is what intrigues you to go closer.
EVAN LEE
Evan? That’s Heeseung’s English name.
You know it’s an invasion of privacy, but your wolf is nagging at you to go. So, with almost zero reluctancy, you let yourself inside.
It’s his producer room, you guess, judging from the equipment filling up the space. You let your eyes roam, smiling to yourself when you catch random things that just scream Heeseung.
There are two frames of pictures hanging on the wall, one of his family and another one of him and Jay. The two looked younger, more reckless, a given when you notice the uniform they were wearing. High-school Jay with a neat shirt, tucked in and collar buttoned up while high-school Heeseung was missing his tie. They were smiling bright, already so handsome from such a young age.
You look at the random stickers on his PC—basketball, white cats, and alphabet stickers that are arranged into ‘NI-KI’.
A pair of headphones sit on the table, each ear decorated with different aesthetics. The left one is full of flowers, tiny stickers of ‘ddeonu’ are left as watermark, while the other is just one big orange cat sticker, and instead of leaving his name in a way that doesn’t stain, Jungwon actually signed with a marker pen.
You laugh, wondering what might be Heeseung’s reaction when that menace did that. It’s Sony, after all, and judging from the sleek design—it’s definitely pricey. But knowing how soft Heeseung is for Jungwon, he probably just let it slide because ‘Jungwonnie is cute’.
This room is so full of everything Heeseung loves. His passion for music and basketball, his affection for his close friends. A thought, not unkindly or bitter, crosses your mind: you cannot wait to leave traces of you here, too—something of yours, beside everything he already loves.
Just as you’re about to leave, something in the corner stops you in your tracks. It’s a notebook, hidden under a keyboard, like it’s never meant to be found.
You walk over and look at the notebook, breath catching in your throat when you read the cover.
For my daisy.
Is this for you?
With trembling fingers—a result from your pounding heart—you flip the cover. There’s handwriting, unmistakably Heeseung’s, filling up the first page.
These are my silent apologies to the girl I lost. I was too late to love you when you still loved me, but I promise myself that I will start and continue loving you, even when I can no longer hear your echo until the very end.
P.s. park jongseong stop making fun of me this will become a hit album TRUST!
Just like what the note has said, the notebook is full of song lyrics. Each line, each intended melody, each scribble left in the margin—every one of them is meant for you, intended for you, and just for you.
Your vision blurs, heart tightening so painfully it almost aches—because this wasn’t just regret. It was love. Quiet, enduring, and yours all along.
Heeseung didn’t know how to stay or to cherish—but he’s been unlearning every single bad habit for you. Through your resentment, through your tears, through your silences, until finally, your omega was willing to open up and give him another chance at love.
Your chest swells with affection and pride, echoing with only the name of the alpha.
You reach for a pen and flip back to the first page, leaving your first ever trace in his producer room.
p.s. i love you more, my cinnamon alpha.
andddd that's the end of it!!1 thank you once again and until next time <3
synopsis. heeseung regrets everything, but his regret comes too late.
pairing. alpha!heeseung x omega!female reader
genre(s). omegaverse, fated mates, strangers-to-lovers, angst, fluff
warnings. angst angst angst!!, everyone cries a lot, heavy angst..., slowburn, vomiting, insecurity, depressive behaviour, hyperventilation and panic attacks, attempts (just one attempt), heeseung is so fucking desperate, featuring: alpha!jay (our target again), alpha!jungwon, wolf hybrid!sunghoon, fake-omega!sunoo (pls i love him), beta!jake, beta!ahn yujin, omega!rei, not beta read we die like injang, ok just hmu if i miss anything!!!
word count. 17,837
note. girl wtf tumblr didn't let me post the whole fic!!! im crying, part 3 coming right up!!
For the first time in his life, Heeseung wants to stay.
No. He wants you to stay.
But he doesn’t dare say anything. He doesn’t even know if he deserves to open his mouth. It’s like a knot of uneasiness has lodged itself in his throat, preventing him from moving even an inch of his muscle.
Not that he can even move, honestly. His entire body is on fire, his scent gland is pulsing in pain. But nothing, nothing can compare to the hollowness in his chest.
Nothing comes close to the gravity of the situation, slowly settling in his mind.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
Across from him, you’re leaning on your cheerleader friend for support. Someone he vaguely recognises as Riki’s cousin—Rei, if he’s not mistaken. She has rushed out of the crowd when people had stopped dancing to watch a literal romance suicide happening in the backyard.
“Oh my Goddess—you’re bleeding—Riki! Call the ambulance!”
“Let’s just drive her to the hospital,” Jake, a beta who belongs to the frat house, emerges from behind Riki, looking more sober than the other guests. “It’s faster.”
Among the chaos, of people murmuring in surprise, of your friend and his friend fussing over your condition, you stand there silently. If you were pale before, you’re looking even more ghostly now that if someone were to cut your cheek, there’d be no blood coming out.
He watches you, eyes never leaving your face, begging, pleading through his gaze for you to meet his eyes. But you never do.
You keep your head low and let Rei and Jake usher you away, steps wobbly and unsteady.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
It feels like he’s underwater and his lungs have turned to bricks.
“—seung! Breathe!”
Heeseung snaps out of his thoughts and realises that his knees have finally given up. He’s on the ground, the tiles bruising his knees as Jay crouches beside him, shaking his shoulders. He realises, as his chest burns and moves rapidly, that he’s been hyperventilating.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
“Oh God—” he chokes, clawing at his burning throat. Sweat dots on his forehead, his face turning red with each passing second. Beside him, Jay is shouting at someone over his head, but the sound is muffled to his ears.
All he can hear is the echo of your voice.
‘I ended it.’
The pain cracks through his chest. The tears are unstoppable now.
‘There’s nothing between us anymore.’
Heeseung thinks he might die.
A violent sob racks through his chest, both of his palms touching the ground. He can faintly sense Riki’s presence around him, the younger trying to lift him up with the help of Jay, but Heeseung’s body is dead weight.
His wolf refuses to move.
This is all your fault, his alpha growls in his mind.
You defied fate and now we lost her. This is your fault, Lee Heeseung.
Heeseung covers his face, feeling the wetness on his cheeks. His body shakes with every sob, showing no signs of stopping. On either side of him, Jay and Riki have given up on trying to help him stand. The two watch as their friend cries his heart out.
Out of sorrow. Out of grief.
Out of regret.
“I’m sorry,” Heeseung sobs to no one, the words dripping with remorse.
He looks up, chasing the ghost of you with his guilty eyes—but you’re long since gone. The weight of the abandoned bond now sits heavy on his chest, pulsing in pitiful longing.
“I’m really sorry.”
The space swallows his words, the emptiness a permanent reminder of his too-late apology.
Hospitals aren’t exactly a place you look forward to visiting.
But right now, you are willing to take anything to escape the eyes. You silently curse yourself for pulling that scene in a place where privacy is a luxury, but at least now you have escaped from it.
From Heeseung.
Most importantly, from the consequences of your actions.
You bring your finger to your nape and graze the scent gland gently. The pain it has borne for the last two weeks has finally stopped. It brings great relief to you, really—not having to feel the slow death of being an unwanted mate. But freedom has its cost.
You’ve never felt so empty.
You don’t know how your omega did it, but the bond is severed. Traces of Heeseung’s pheromones are nowhere to be found. Gone are the warm, spicy cinnamon and the cool, salty sea air that used to linger around your sweet scent faintly.
You no longer smell like him. You no longer feel the need to see him. You no longer feel the agonising pain shooting up your spine every time he kisses someone who isn’t you.
Yet you feel empty.
You expected more pain. You expected longing. But your body feels quiet. Your omega, previously hysterical and loud, is dead silent inside. A protest to the Goddess or she’s just genuinely exhausted, you don’t know. You can’t put it past her if it’s both.
You sigh, dropping your hand on your lap as you stare at the blood stain on the sleeves of your cardigan. You pay no mind to the nurses and patients passing by in front of you. Jake and Rei left not too long ago, after you managed to convince them that you’ll be okay and that Yujin is on her way.
As if on cue, your nose picks up the smell of green tea among the sterile and sharp odour of the hallway. Yujin.
“Y/N!”
Your friend greets you with a slightly breathless voice, clearly running her way into the hospital. She bends down and immediately makes a show of inspecting you, turning your body left and right frantically. When her eyes drop on the dried blood staining your sleeves, she nearly shrieks.
“Who the fuck must I kill?!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!” You hush her, sending apologetic looks to the nearby people who have become alert of Yujin’s death threat. “And no, you’re not killing anybody.”
“Please tell me what happened before I lose my mind,” Yujin pleads, the worry on her face softening her features. You halt.
Before you know it, your eyes have turned glassy. The weight of everything—the constant pain, the relief, the broken bond—you finally feel the full force of it. As if the gate has been completely destroyed, it’s so easy to cry now.
You let yourself get pulled into a hug, clutching at the fabric of Yujin’s shirt desperately.
Your bitter scent washes over her, smelling of heartbreak and guilt. You think of Heeseung; of how devastated he looked when you broke the bond, like he had lost something precious—which should be a lie, shouldn’t it? He never acknowledged the bond. He never admitted to it.
Then you think of yourself; of the way you used to carry the pieces of your heart everywhere, begging for him to see the bond that used to tie the two of you together. The bond that you treasured, the bond that bloomed hope in your heart, making you believe in a future together with someone who was supposed to love you.
Something inside you breaks again.
You had lost something precious.
“I—I ended the bond with him,” you choke, the words struggling to get out. “It’s over. Yujin, it’s over.”
You feel Yujin freeze for a moment before she tightens the hug, feeling her lips touch your hairline.
“But why does it still hurt?” Your chest heaves with a new wave of tears, voice completely broken. “Why does it hurt so fucking much? I ended it, and—and he hurt me,” you hiccup, trying to arrange the string of your sentence properly.
“But I still want to hug him,” you whisper wetly, feeling your wolf stir inside you. “I still want to hold him and tell him I’m sorry for doing this to him.”
Yujin remains quiet, rubbing a hand at your back in an attempt to comfort you.
“It’s okay, Y/N. You did the right thing.”
She holds you and never lets go. She holds you the way that you wish you could’ve done to Heeseung; in the way that you wish he could’ve done to you.
That night, you let yourself surrender to the grief of something that you almost had. The grief of the tale of true mates that you used to hold close to your heart, longing for the wreckage of potential love that is damaged beyond repair.
You grieve for the love you could’ve shared, the life you could’ve had if only the world was on your side.
You grieve for Heeseung.
For the past of the warm embrace that he once gave you and for the pain he inflicted on you.
Heeseung never knew how hard it was to find you outside of the court and practice room until now.
He realises, with a regret that has become all-too-familiar now, that he knows almost nothing about you. Other than the fact that you can bake, that you’re friends with almost everyone on the cheerleader squad—he doesn’t know much about you.
And it kills him.
It takes him two days of losing sleep, of dragging his legs to classes, of forcing the pain in his chest down, before he finally catches a glimpse of you.
It’s completely accidental. He’s on his way to a group discussion, walking past the cafeteria when a breeze of air passes by him, carrying the soft scent of your pheromones.
Light, blooming daisies and sticky, sweet honey.
Heeseung halts in his steps, his alpha already whining in longing.
Across the hall, at one of the tables, you sit with your friends. A pair of chopsticks presses against your lips as you listen to your friend animatedly talking about her clumsy professor—something that’s only possible for Heeseung to hear had it not been for his dominant trait.
Heeseung doesn’t know what to expect once he sees you.
A small part of him foolishly hopes that you’d look back to him just as quickly, the way you used to do whenever he steps into the same room as you before.
Another part of him wishes that when he senses your scent, the usual undertone of his own scent would still linger underneath.
But you do nothing of those, completely oblivious to his presence, to his scent—like the mere his walking into the same space as you’re in doesn’t affect you anymore. And your scent is completely bare from any traces of his pheromones, the daisies and honey are completely and only you.
Right, Heeseung swallows thickly. Of course you can’t feel him.
The bond is no longer there.
You cut it a couple of days ago.
The wound is still fresh, pulsing in his scent gland like a reminder of his sin. His heart squeezes painfully, but Heeseung only presses his lips. Not a sound comes out of his mouth. Not even a breath.
He lets the pain course through his body, enduring it for as long as he can. He deserves this, he quietly thinks.
He deserves watching you from afar, feeling the one-sided bond punish every fibre of his being.
He deserves this; sensing your scent whenever you’re near, but no longer having the privilege to hold your eyes and share the same feeling only true mates understand.
Deserves the silence. Deserves you not looking up. Deserves being nothing to you.
There’s a gaping hole in his heart when he realises that nothing is tying him to you anymore. There’s no safety net of the Goddess of the Moon’s fated mates tale. There’s no longer the string that connects the two of you—no reason he can find to be anything to you.
A stronger, more desperate part of him forces him to take the leap. To just take over and charge. His feet shift forward slightly, the dominant alpha in him wanting to just grab you and tell you how sorry he is. He’d beg on his knees if he must, so long as you’d at least spare a glance his way, even if it meant you would look down on him forever.
But you look happier.
His eyes trace the curve of your lips as you laugh at something your friend says. The selfish part of him stubbornly stays to steal the moment, letting his undeserving ears hear your voice like a secret.
You look happier.
Heeseung takes a step back, angling his body to leave. He looks at you one last time, hoping to catch your gaze at least once. Just something—anything to soothe his anxious wolf, even when he doesn’t deserve it.
But you never look back. And something inside him cracks.
He can feel it—the incoming suffocation building up in his chest, like a storm waiting to happen. Before his scent could turn bitter, Heeseung forces himself to leave, eyes frantically searching for exit.
Heeseung is slowly breaking apart, and he does nothing to stop it.
“You’re so—” Jay stops himself, then sighs loudly. “I’ve called you stupid way too many times that I’m actually starting to feel bad now. Why did you skip your group discussion? Jungwon won’t stop asking me for you.”
Heeseung doesn’t react. After catching sight of you at the cafeteria, he’s rushed back to his house, deliberately skipping the group discussion with an apology over a text. The hyperventilation—an occurrence that is frequent now—comes back, and Heeseung doesn’t intend for you to see him unravel like that.
Not out of pride or shame. God, no, there’s nothing left of him to care about those. Heeseung just doesn’t want you to feel bad seeing him like that. Because you shouldn’t feel bad for cutting off the bond.
After all, he did hurt you to the point of death.
Jay studies his friend, watching as Heeseung sits in his producer chair and stares blankly at the monitor. He was just about to go for a gym session with Riki, but decided to stay at home after Heeseung burst through the door, gasping for air with a red face. And it broke his heart.
Calling out Heeseung for his ignorance is one thing that he’s not sorry for, but seeing him in this condition? It kills him. He just wants everyone to stop hurting each other. But first of all, he knows he has to start with Heeseung.
“Hee,” he calls, but Heeseung barely moves. Jay presses his lips. “Hee—”
“I saw her.”
Jay pauses, holding back his tongue when he hears his voice. He waits patiently, giving Heeseung the space he needs.
But Heeseung doesn’t say another word for a few extended seconds, just sitting there like he was talking to himself. If it weren’t for the small movement of his chest, Jay would’ve panicked and thought that he’d lost his friend.
It is quiet until his voice, smaller and quieter, echoes inside the room again.
“She always looks prettier than the last time I see her.”
There’s a heavy silence between them. Jay takes the chance to look around the room.
It’s Heeseung’s producer room, the room Jay let him take to do whatever he wanted with it. The lighting inside this room is moody, dim purple and blue LED lights alternating every minute.
The glow washes over everything in slow pulses—across the mixing console, the twin monitors, the mess he never bothered to clean. Cables snake along the floor like they’ve settled there for good, curling around the legs of the desk. A track sits paused on the screen, its waveform frozen mid-breath, like it, too, is waiting for something to break.
Jay slowly exhales, his chest tightening as his gaze drifts from a closed notebook to the abandoned headphones hanging at the edge of the console. This room feels less alive—not like what he last remembers of it.
It used to pulse with passion. Whenever he walked in, Heeseung was always up to something. The bass would play like a behind the scene, his sweet voice would sometimes blend with the strum of his newly-bought acoustic. There’d be balls of crumpled papers rolling on the floor, rejected lyrics that he’d still pick up and look back before he went to sleep.
But now, the room is too clean. Ever since he carried Heeseung on his back from Jake’s frat house a few days ago, this producer room has been nothing more than a haunted house.
And at the center of it, is his dying friend.
“Hee,” Jay starts, breaking the silence. He gives his words a lot of thoughts, carefully curated to make it clear that he cares. “Heeseung, you must do something. Or you’ll die, and I won’t let you die.”
Jay grabs his shoulder and turns him around, the chair spinning to face him. Heeseung’s face is void of any colour, sunken eyes looking like faded embers. His lips are dry and chapped, his skin dull and grey. Inevitably, something sharp twists in his chest at seeing his best friend in this state.
“God,” Jay breathes out, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. He’s so fucking scared. “You’re dying, Heeseung, and I—”
Jay hangs his head low, closing his eyes as he tries his best to compose himself. Heeseung needs me, he whispers in his head, Heeseung needs me.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Jay takes a deep breath and lifts his gaze. Heeseung is looking away, blank face staring lifelessly at the wall like a portrait of emptiness and grief. His grip on his shoulder tightens.
“I talked to my parents,” Jay tries again, “there is a way to fix this. Two, actually.”
The moment stretches without any reaction from Heeseung. Jay takes it as a sign to continue.
“We can save this if you…if you can win her back and make her omega want to patch the bond back up.”
The tiniest flicker of something crosses Heeseung’s eyes. His jaw twitches almost imperceptibly.
“Or,” Jay licks his lips, preparing himself. “You can cut the bond from your side, too,” he finishes.
Heeseung turns his head to look at him, wide eyes watering with unshed tears.
“Cut it clean once and for all, Heeseung.”
His lips part, but nothing comes out. Despite his passive façade, Heeseung’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and regret.
Fix the bond and face you, which he doesn’t think he deserves.
Or cut it off and lose you for good.
For the first time in his life, Heeseung doesn’t know which option is worse.
The nightclub is still as noisy as he remembers it. Blinding lights that hurt his eyes, loud bass that pierces his ears. People are dancing with their company, seeking friction and heat between slicked bodies.
Heeseung used to be in the center of it all, basking in the attention of perfectly-manicured nails on his chest and the alluring scents enveloping him. A perfect distraction from a rejected demo. A relief for his frustration over a losing game.
The escape he always chose to run from facing negative emotions.
But tonight, he stands motionless in a corner, lips pulled in a tight line.
There’s an old pull coming from the crowd. After all, having people worship your body does feel addictive at one point—and Heeseung is no exception to that. He’s used to showcasing his dominance whether it was on the court or in a bedroom, a drug he kept feeding his alpha to the point of no return. He’s used to command and dominate, a trait that helps him as a captain and as a pleaser.
Like facing a withdrawal, his hands twitch by his sides, itching to inch forward.
You are feeling bad now, a voice whispers in his head. Go on. There are plenty of omegas that can make you feel better.
Heeseung forces his gaze down. No, he counters.
No more of that life.
Heeseung is dominant in every aspect of his existence—from biological traits down to his own personality and mindset. But when his mind drifts back to the thoughts of you, he finds himself crumbling in submission.
It hurts his pride. God, it hurts so much.
But the ache doesn’t compare to the look on your pale face when you break the bond you shared with him, like cutting an infected part of a root that’d destroy your field of daisies.
Nothing hurts more than being the reason you had to resort to such a critical decision, that might cost you your own life.
The urge finally quiets down after a few seconds of redirecting his thoughts to the more pressing matters at hand. Heeseung smooths down his clothes in an attempt to calm himself.
He’s wearing one of his baggy graphic T-shirts, black and bigger than his frame. A picture of The Strokes, stretched and scratched from use clings to the fabric. Beside him, Jay stands tall in his usual button-up, always looking out of place in the nightclub thanks to his distinguished gentleman image.
On the other side of him, is a cute menace.
“Okay!” Sunoo claps his hand, adjusting the collar of his yellow sweater. “This is a bad idea, but since you’re a masochist, let’s do what we’re here for!”
The sass in his speech doesn’t go unnoticed by both alphas. Jay lets out a big sigh, already massaging his temple, while Heeseung only gives him a side-eye, hardly offended by his words.
He’s right, of course. Sunoo’s never wrong.
The brown-haired boy, feigning ignorance to the stares he’s receiving, continues. “Since you want to cut the bond clean—”
Jay interrupts sharply. “Try to cut it clean.”
“Right,” Sunoo gives a small smile. “Since we want to try cutting it off clean,” he makes a show of slicing the air with his hand, “let’s find you an omega and see if you can kiss her or him without throwing up.”
Heeseung lets the bass swallow his voice, already hating the idea inside his head. Which is ironic, because just a few days ago, he was adamant on trying to convince himself that he didn’t have a mate.
Oh, well. Just look at him now.
Jay seems to share the same sentiment as him. “This can either turn worse or better. Are you sure you’re doing this?” Jay looks back from Heeseung to Sunoo. “Can’t we find other ways?”
Sunoo taps his chin, looking serious for the first time that night.
“I don’t think we can. The one breaking the bond should be his wolf,” he starts, pointing to Heeseung’s chest. “And since he’s been giving Heeseung a silent treatment, we have no idea where he stands now. This is the only way to trigger a reaction.”
Heeseung thinks he’s had enough of being talked about like a case study. “What do you mean? We don’t know where he stands now?”
Sunoo pats his shoulder, understanding his confusion. “Yeap. We don’t know whether your wolf is okay with cutting the bond with Y/N and finding another mate, or if he still wants Y/N and wants to fix the bond with her.”
“It’s one-sided, Heeseungie hyung. Your wolf didn’t agree with the breakup,” Sunoo then lowers his voice, now talking softly when he notices the gloomy look on his face. “That’s why we either cut it or fix it,” the alpha fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater, already feeling emotional.
“Or you could die, hyung. That’s the reality of true mates.”
He’s right. Heeseung knows, despite being a little devil that he is, Sunoo will never lie about something as serious as this. Especially when it involves life and death.
But Heeseung hasn’t been on good terms with his wolf. They’ve been clashing since the night that he met you, always debating whether you were his fated mate or not. And each time, it was Heeseung who never listened. It was Heeseung who refused to give in, in denial to the possibility of a mate and…love.
Even tonight.
“Let’s just cut it off,” he grunts, his voice grim and clipped. Sunoo and Jay whirl around and look at him like he’s just lost one eye.
“I just told you, we can’t just—”
“He’s not responding, and he never will,” Heeseung exhales through his nose, frustration spilling into his scent. “My wolf—”
“That’s because you never wanted to listen to him, Hee.” Jay finally speaks up, cutting the conversation short. Heeseung pauses, his voice dying in his throat.
From his left, Jay’s citrusy pheromones—bergamot and lime with a soft undertone of amber and metal—swirls into his senses with an air of authority. Heeseung recognises this. It’s the accent that Jay uses when he wants someone to relax and listen to him.
The dark-haired alpha plays with his whiskey, watching the liquid swirl and the ice spin as he speaks.
“Or to me. To us.”
He lets the words linger, as if begging Heeseung to finally understand. Jay meets his eyes, looking into him with desperation. There is a flicker of something there; something that makes the wall inside him rattle.
“Please. Just tonight. Please try for us. For you,” his voice is lower, shaky, “I don’t want to lose you, Hee. Please.”
“I just don’t want to hurt her anymore.” Heeseung hesitates. “What if I touch another omega and I hurt her again?”
“You won’t,” Sunoo convinces. He nudges Heeseung’s shoulder with his. “For now, she won’t feel anything because the tie is broken. It won’t be easy, but saving yourself means saving her too.”
A heavy silence falls upon them, filled with unspoken tension and pleading eyes. Jay and Sunoo share a look, each of them on the edges of their nerves waiting for Heeseung’s answer.
At last, Heeseung finally relents. A small sigh escapes his lips and he takes a step forward.
“Okay. Let’s give this a shot.”
It isn’t hard to find someone to kiss. It was never hard for Heeseung. He manages to mask his gloomy scent that could shoo people away from him and gets into his flirty mode. His smile, though a little strained on the edges, still looks pretty as ever.
Soon enough, he already has an omega in his arms, tucked away in a dimmed corner near the bar. Sunoo and Jay keep a safe distance from him, not too close to intrude but not too far out of his sight.
“You’re so tall,” the omega purrs, gliding her pretty nail up his arm. Heeseung barely responds. “Tall and so handsome.”
His heart is telling him how out-of-place the touch feels. The familiar feeling comes back. The same feeling he ignored for two weeks in fear of confronting his own destiny. The same feeling he buried for the sake of proving to no one but himself that he’d do fine without you; without the sacred bond that connected you both.
He wants to flee. He wants to push her away and scratch at the spot where she’s touched him. Where her skin meets his skin, Heeseung feels the strongest urge to recoil. The same nausea returns, clouded by her scent that doesn’t sit well in his nose.
But his rational mind reminds him of the intention behind this.
“Yeah?” He tries, struggling to look her in the eyes. He tightens his grip on her waist and hesitates before pulling her slightly closer. “I’ll need to bend down to kiss you, then.”
The girl lets out an airy giggle. She circles her arms around his neck and pulls him down, peering at him through her lashes seductively. “Mhm, bent down enough?”
Heeseung freezes. It’s going to happen. Heeseung fights the urge to turn his face away, but Sunoo’s words serve as a reminder that stops him from doing so.
Saving yourself means saving her, too.
Shakily, he exhales, closing the gap between their lips as slowly as he can. His heart is angry behind his ribs, his pulse rushing loudly in his ears. Heeseung braces himself until the pout of her lips brushes against his.
The kiss starts gently, mainly initiated by her. Heeseung tries to follow, tries to lead, but the feeling of her mouth on his feels so wrong. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like fitting a triangle puzzle with round pieces.
He opens his mouth, trying to deepen his kiss when something inside him stirs.
No. His wolf finally speaks. It’s no longer distant and muffled.
Like a wolf being reborn from the first death, this time, his voice is sharp and clear.
Not her.
Heeseung closes his eyes, feeling a bile rising behind his throat. But instead of darkness, what he sees instead is an image of you. Your soft features, your silky hair, and your pretty, pretty eyes that he can only see in his memory.
The eyes that used to look at him with sparkles of hope, waiting for him to notice the magnetic force of a bond that you shared with him. The same grateful eyes that looked at him under the moonlight, when the convenience store was empty except for the two of you.
His stomach turns sharply he might actually be sick.
Oh Goddess, what has he done to you? Why did he do you so wrong? Why did he think so highly of himself that he thought he was above love and fate?
A drop of tears slips down his cheek.
Before he knows it, Heeseung is already crying into the kiss. Hot, fresh tears seeps into the lock of their mouths, making the kiss taste like salt and grief; just like how his scent smells right now.
I want Y/N. His wolf echoes again, firmer than he’s ever been. We want Y/N.
At last, after weeks of battling himself, Heeseung finally listens to his wolf.
He breaks the kiss with a breath, pushing her gently by the shoulders and putting a distance between them. Head dipping low, Heeseung lets himself cry, watching the tears drop from the tip of his nose to the sticky floor. The omega is left confused, but she doesn’t say a word.
If anything, Heeseung looks so pitiful that she forgets about feeling upset.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” he hiccups, bringing his hands to his face. He doesn’t realise how hard he’s shaking until she places her hand on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I can’t do this—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl convinces, pursing her lips into a straight line. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Heeseung doesn’t answer. Drops of grief and regret keep pouring out like a broken faucet, staining his cheeks wet. The sound that leaves him isn’t even a sob; it’s something raw, broken, pulled straight out of his chest.
“My heart belongs to her.”
Heeseung feels his wolf paw at him, finally winning the prolonged war of love and pride. A war whose price may be greater than the sin he’s committed.
His scent gland is pulsing even harder, as if reminding him of the bond still barely alive.
With a shaky exhale, like he’s at last allowed himself to be free, Heeseung tries to let it out.
“I think…” his voice breaks, softer now, like he’s afraid of the truth even as he says it.
“I think I finally accepted that my heart has always belonged to her.”
For the first time, Heeseung doesn’t try to deny it. His wolf purrs, almost crying from relief.
“And she doesn’t want it anymore.”
It is very early in the morning. Rays of orange glow cracks through the horizon, bleeding light into the ground. Somewhere in the distance, the moon is slowly getting swallowed by the sky and soon enough, the sun is proudly ascending.
It’s a Saturday, which means, there’s no classes scheduled today. But Heeseung finds himself stepping foot on the campus ground. Faintly, from where he’s standing at the car park, he can hear whistles coming from the field. His wolf, who’s done giving him the silent treatment, nudges him to hurry.
Right. He’s here, abandoning his usual sleep-in on the weekend to find you. It’s the only place he knows where you’d be and he might’ve just bribed Jake to tell him when his football friendly match is going to be.
Taking a deep breath, Heeseung finally moves his legs. His ribs rattle with how fast his heart is beating. He purposely chooses to come fifteen minutes before the match ends—he’s not exactly here to see Jake play (sorry dude). He doesn’t know what to do with himself if he has to wait around for hours just to talk to you. He might go crazy.
Well. That is, if you want to talk to him.
“Don’t discourage me now, you dog,” he mutters under his breath, berating his alpha.
The field is not that far from where he parked his (Jay’s) car. A few paces more and he’s going to see the vast green-grassed space where a bunch of alphas are running around chasing a ball using their legs.
But to his surprise, the field and the bleachers are almost empty.
“Fuck,” Heeseung curses under his breath and checks his watch. He still has three minutes left before the game ends—if what Jake told him was true. Did they end it earlier than planned? He could’ve sworn he heard whistles just now!
You spent too much time on your pep talk, his wolf rolls his eyes.
Heeseung doesn’t waste time. He whirls around and forces his brain to think quicker. His legs move faster, turning corner after a corner in search of you.
Where would the cheerleaders go after a game? To the locker room? No, that’s for the athletes. To the car park? That’s possible, but he didn’t cross paths with anyone on the way here. To the practice room? He rounds a corner. Okay, that actually—
A subtle wave of daisies and honey washes over him almost instantly. Heeseung immediately stops, his breath catching in his throat.
Standing in front of the vending machine, just a few feet away from him, is you. You’re wearing your usual costume—sleeveless top that cuts right at your waist and pleated skirt that ends just above your mid-thigh. But today, the theme seems to be pink. You have your hair up in an updo, a blue ribbon—the official representative colour of the college—is tied neatly around the silky strands of your hair.
There’s only a glimpse of your side profile visible to him, but it’s enough to quiet the prideful alpha in him. He’s not even sure if he’s said it enough, but every time his eyes land on you, you just get prettier.
For a second, Heeseung thinks he doesn’t mind dying at that moment.
You don’t look up to him instantly, or sensing his presence by his pheromones—another reminder of the broken bond that you used to share. Heeseung gulps down the hurt, clenching his sweaty palms into fists.
A clang of a can dropping in the vending machine booms through the hallway. You bend down to take it.
Call her name. His wolf urges. Idiot, just call her name!
Heeseung gathers his breath.
“Y/N?” Your name leaves his name like a sacred prayer, tender and delicate, like a whisper only the Goddess can hear. You freeze in your spot, finger brushing the can only a fraction.
The silence stretches for a few seconds. In waiting, Heeseung holds back his breath, afraid that another sound from him will scare you away.
But you only straighten up, abandoning your can of drink and turn to him. The edges of your eyes harden at the sight of him.
You hold his gaze, lips unmoving before you finally say his name.
“Heeseung.”
It’s flat. It’s polite. It’s cold. It’s nothing like the night when you ran into his arms. It’s not warm like the way you called his name before falling asleep on his shoulders, back when your wolf trusted him with your life.
Back when the bond was still there. Back when his name was still written in the stars beside yours.
Heeseung thinks this is worse than death.
“Can I…” he pauses, already fearing your rejection mid-sentence.
Saving yourself means saving her, too.
He pushes through.
“Can I talk to you?”
The words finally leave his lips, and Heeseung doesn’t move. It’s as if he was intruding; like he was poking your safe bubble and he wasn’t allowed to move without your permission.
Your eyes assess him, like you’re deciding if he was a threat. Then, with a firm tone he never heard from you, you reply. “I have practice.”
“I won’t take long,” he rushes out, the words tripping over each other. “Please—just for a moment. Please.”
Please.
The one word you’d never expect coming from a dominant alpha like him. Someone who seems prideful in everything he does, who commands attention wherever he goes with his voice alone.
So he does have the courage to talk to you. He does know what he did was wrong on so many levels—and yet.
Yet it took you almost dying for him to learn.
Yet it took you bleeding on the floor for him to realise.
For once, you really thought you could be the bigger person. You really believed that your heart, as soft as it always has been, would fold and melt the moment his honeyed-voice greets your senses again.
But you were wrong.
Your resentment still lingers, caging your chest in a protective embrace, not daring to lose its heartbeat for the second time.
“No.”
You take a step back, and this time, you make sure it is a line being drawn.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
Your verdict echoes like a gavel tapping against a sound block. It’s straightforward. It’s clear. But to Heeseung, it’s a punishment too small to what he did to you.
He tries his best to school his expression, swallowing the lump in his throat with force. He then nods, weakly, then a bit too fast.
His wolf cries, not willing for him to back down so easily. His human part, on the other hand, is split into two.
Old Heeseung is ready to isolate and never reach out again. Same old habits that used to bring him comfort and distractions.
This is why you don’t do commitments. Just forget about this.
Another Heeseung, a new side that feels awkward but is still slowly growing, is trying to rationalise your decision and understand your boundaries.
Give her time, Heeseung. The wound is still so fresh.
“Okay.” He finally breathes out, the heavy word weirdly sending relief to his system. “Okay. I understand.”
You don’t move for a moment, just staring at him blankly like he might change his mind, before you nod. You honestly don’t know what to expect, but this is a pleasant surprise. You don’t think you can handle a pushy alpha now—especially the same alpha who had pushed you too far.
You leave without another word, feeling his eyes boring into the back of your head as you round the corner. Once out of his sight, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding,, gripping the wall for support.
Your heart pounds like a war drum, threatening to break out of your chest. Seeing his face after actively avoiding him seems to be harder than you’d thought. You didn’t know he’d come looking for you on the weekends like this.
The Heeseung you remember always leaves first.
You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your frantic heart, and realise one thing with a sinking feeling.
Your quiet omega is still silent, lips sealed shut. Not even a word was heard from her since that tragic night.
You sigh. Heeseung’s got a really long way to go.
On the other side of the wall, Heeseung trails after your steps with his gaze—longing, hopeful, and sorrowful.
He’ll wait. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed yet, but he’ll wait.
Heeseung heaves out a long sigh, his throat feeling dry. The vending machine suddenly looks interesting to him. Rows of canned drinks lined up the interior but Heeseung already has his mind set on his go-to Zero Coke.
The can drops with a loud clang. Heeseung reaches down, ready to feel the coldness of the red-canned drink, only to pause when he sees green instead.
Grape juice.
Oh, right. You forgot your drink.
He takes both cans, but his attention on his Zero Coke is long gone. He inspects your drink instead, eyes lingering on the brand like it’s something precious, his fingers wet from condensation.
So you like grape juice.
Heeseung finally learns something about you today.
But waiting is easier said than done.
Anxiety lives under his skin, prickling in his system like thorns in flesh. Every time he closes his eyes, the memory of you bleeding in the frat house haunts him back. He’d wake up gasping, lungs burning like he just survived a drowning.
Your silence has turned his longingness into a desperation so deep you practically could smell it on him. Heeseung can’t be with himself, not when he’s been spending every hour fighting every instinct to scream your name and throw up.
And that’s exactly how Heeseung finds himself lingering around the business building not long after the last time spoke to you.
He doesn’t know your schedule, he doesn’t know what classes you’re in, or the circle of friends you have other than the cheerleaders. He only knows where you live because he sent you home the night you fell asleep on his shoulders—but he doesn’t think going to your house is appropriate. It’s too private and he doesn’t want to stain your safe abode with his presence.
Which is why he decided to wait at the campus, at the building he’s not familiar with.
Heeseung never hated himself more than he does now.
Fuck. How ignorant had he been towards the person who was supposed to be his mate?
Is it too late to learn about you now? Is it too late to knock on your door and hold his heart in his hand like a beggar right now?
So Heeseung spends hours waiting for you without even knowing if you’d come to campus today. He messaged Sunoo for help, but it has slipped from his mind just how busy a med student can be. Sunoo’s probably losing his mind over human anatomy again. The text remains delivered until the night falls.
Black sky takes over the horizon, only lending lights from the moon and the stars as a mercy. Heeseung’s feet are numb from walking around and standing for too long. He looks around the emptying hallways, not sure where exactly he is other than the fact that he’s at the business compound—a path where most students use to get to their classes.
He glances at his watch. It’s almost 8 pm. Most classes have already ended, and the last session would have ended half an hour ago.
You’re probably not here anymore.
Heeseung bites back a groan, licking his dry lips as he turns around to leave. Meeting you at the court is not possible until a few weeks more for a friendly match with that eastern university team again. He can’t possibly wait until then—so he’ll come back tomorrow.
Heeseung knows that he’s a walking contradiction. He vows to respect your decision, to let things go with time. To step back when he’s asked to, to wait around until the tide dies.
However, wasn’t this the way he lost you?
For being too passive. For being too cowardly. For running away.
Heeseung really wants to give you time, but at the same time, he doesn’t know if your ‘no’ yesterday is still applicable today. He should at least try today, right? Or should he wait more?
Fuck. With self-hatred thicker than before, Heeseung curses himself for not knowing. For not understanding. He’s only well-versed about omegas when it comes to sex, but other than that, he doesn’t fucking know. His carelessness and ignorance are biting him hard in the ass right now.
Though, the desperation persists.
He just needs one thing: closure.
Not for himself, but rather for you.
You deserve to know only the truth.
But it’s getting late, and the thin layers he’s wearing aren’t doing a good job to protect him from the chill. Now, he hopes you’re already home, safe and tucked in warmly in your room.
He will try again tomorrow.
Just as he’s about to leave, as if the Moon Goddess finally hears his prayers, Heeseung catches the sound of your voice drifting down the hallway.
You’re here.
God, you’re actually here.
Before he can overthink it, Heeseung is already on his feet, following the trail of daisies and honey using his sharp senses. And he sees you—just rounding the corner, talking to your classmates while heading towards the exit.
He can no longer hold back the instinct to call your name.
“Y/N.”
You freeze in your spot, recognising his voice in a heartbeat. You hate that you do.
He’s already on his way, closing the distance between the two of you with a look of desperation that seems foreign when he wears it. Beside you, your classmates are already whispering, equally surprised as you are.
“Is that Lee Heeseung?”
“Isn’t the music faculty so far from here?”
You pretend you don’t hear anything and frown instead.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can we talk?” Heeseung blurts out the moment he’s close enough. There’s still an elephant distance between you and him, but he doesn’t dare step closer.
Can he even be near you? Is he allowed to?
When there’s no answer from you, he tries again. “Please, can I please talk to you?”
“Just go home, Heeseung.” You mutter, already walking away. You send an apologetic look to your classmates and start to leave, but Heeseung is already hot on your tail.
“Y/N,” he croaks out, the tremble in his voice almost going unnoticed. “I just need ten minutes. No—give me five minutes, please.”
No response from you. You don’t even know where you’re going anymore, taking a turn after a turn to lose him.
How did he know where you were? Did he find out your schedule from someone else? What is he doing here? How long has he been waiting for you?
It doesn’t seem like he has another reason to be here. So did he wait around for you?
You bite your lip, not entirely prepared for the inevitable confrontation to happen so fast.
But you underestimate how desperate Heeseung is because he keeps following you like a lost puppy, long legs slowing down slightly so as to not crowd you from behind. Being this close to him allows your nose to pick up on his sense—eye-watering cinnamon spiking with anxiousness with an undertone of a brewing sea storm.
Heeseung can’t stand the silence any longer.
“I was wrong.” Fuck. If you won’t even look at him, that’s fine. But he needs you to know how sorry he is. “I know what I did was terrible and I—”
“Terrible?” You finally come to a stop and whirl around, your scent brimming with anger. “Terrible? I almost died, Heeseung!”
Heeseung catches himself before he crashes into you. He stares at you, wide-eyed, as you crane your neck to look up at him. The unwanted memory comes flashing back—of blood and tears and regret he’d never move past.
Your eyes glisten with angry tears, fists trembling by your sides.
“What you did was almost criminal.”
Heeseung flinches. He doesn’t expect the word to land so heavy in his chest, so sharply in his gut. His hand flexes by his side, urging him to cradle your soft, soft face in his hold and pour out every single apology he’s been carrying but he stops himself.
“I know, and I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Heeseung murmurs, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. “I just want you to allow me to fix the bond.”
You let out a laugh. A hollow, humourless laugh. The emptiness doesn’t even echo in the air.
“So now the bond is real to you?” You spit out, venom leaking into your voice. “Wasn’t it all just in my head, Heeseung? Wasn’t it all just my heat messing with me.”
Heeseung is hit with a pang of shame, not expecting you to throw his words back at him. He cowers and lets the full impact of his hurtful choice of words consume him to the bone.
You put a fist over your heaving chest, your tongue getting loose now that the inevitable has come.
“I thought I was losing my mind,” your voice trembles slightly, treading along something dangerously close to a breakdown. “I thought something was wrong with me. I was sick for weeks and none of the doctors could cure me! And the whole time it was just…”
You swallow, blinking back tears furiously.
“The whole time it was just you choosing someone else over me.”
It’s like sand has filled up his mouth. Every answer tastes wrong and bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t even know what to say to that for how true it is.
How was he supposed to atone for a sin that nearly killed his mate?
“I know,” is the only thing he can whisper. Shame spreads across his chest like a disease. “I know. I—I did that. I’m sorry for not choosing you, Y/N.”
There it is. The truth, bare as it is, lies there like a final verdict. It feels almost tangible for how suffocating it is. It feels almost too cruel for how much it hurts you. It feels almost alive for how hard it is pulsing in your ears.
The dam finally breaks. “How long have you known that we—” your voice catches, silent tears gliding down your cheeks. “That we were fated mates?”
Guilt gnaws at his chest. “Two weeks before the tournament,” he quietly answers, already feeling small.
So since the beginning of your streak of pain.
You feel sick to your stomach.
“How many of them?”
“What?”
“How many omegas did you fuck to convince yourself that I wasn’t your mate?”
Defensiveness flares up in his chest. “I didn’t fuck them. I couldn’t. I tried—”
“But you still stayed there, trying to prove to everyone in this world that that’s what you wanted and not me!” Your voice booms, no longer holding back on the pain.
Silence rings so loud afterwards, it stretches and stretches until the tension is left in a tight thread waiting to snap.
You stand there, shoulders shaking from sobbing quietly. Long, silky hair cascades around your face as you look down, biting back any sound.
And every hitch of your voice rips his heart apart.
His wolf, wounded as he is, thrashes inside. Shivering daisies and acrid honey droops around him, eliciting another whine from his alpha. Heeseung braves another step forward, hesitation edging on his heels.
“I messed up. I hurt you all because I tried to prove to myself that I didn’t need you.”
His hands twitch, hovering mindlessly on his sides.
Heeseung has promised himself that he’d only say the truth from now on. Harsh as it is, bitter as it is—it’s the only thing you deserve to hear. He couldn’t conjure any more lies to protect himself.
God. Even his lies are killing him now.
“I never slept with them. I couldn’t touch them without feeling like I was about to throw up,” he goes on, voice softening around the edges. “I couldn’t even walk into a room without hoping that it’d be you.”
You shake your head. “But you still did.”
He nods weakly. “That doesn’t erase the fact that I did. I chose to run away because I couldn’t handle the fact that our fate is bigger than what I was willing to hold.”
Our fate.
Heeseung inhales shakily.
“I forced myself to enjoy the touch because I was so fucking busy proving the Goddess wrong.”
A sob escapes your lips.
Why does our fate have to be so tragic, Heeseung?
“I was dying, Heeseung,” you whisper wetly. “Your actions were killing me.”
Heeseung bites his tongue. “I know. I was wrong.”
A minute passes without any words. The hallway is only filled with the soft sobs and sniffles coming from your lips. Heeseung stands, wretched and torn. One leg is urging him to go to you and hold you. Another leg is forcing him to stay because he doesn’t think he deserves to touch you.
What he knows, for sure, is that this image of you crying in front of him will haunt him in his sleep.
After a moment, you finally speak, your voice hoarse.
“I don’t think we can ever come back from this.”
Heeseung’s throat closes up, a sudden stab lodging its pointy end into his chest. No, his wolf cries out. Please, no.
He lifts his hand, longing to touch you, but then decides to drop it. “Y/N. Please—”
“I don’t even know how we can fix this,” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “My omega has been silent since the day she cut the bond.”
In response, his wolf whines, trying to get a reaction. But you feel nothing.
Not a stir. Not even a shift. Your omega is deadly unresponsive. If it’s not for your beating heart, you’d think that you’d been dead since that night.
“I don’t know if she still wants this or not. This—bond. You.”
“But do you?” Heeseung can hear his voice cracking, and he thinks his heart is facing the same fate too. He’s sure of it.
“Do you still want this?”
You are silent for a moment and it’s the longest second Heeseung has ever gone through.
“I—I don’t know,” you quietly mutter. “You hurt me more than anyone ever did, Heeseung.”
Heeseung would have preferred you shout at him than this. He’d rather have the heat of your hatred than this.
This cold winter of your uncertainty. This soft, subtle turndown, like you’re already resigned to the fate of not having him in your life anymore.
Heeseung’s knees hit the ground with a thud before you can stop him.
It’s not weak, or pathetic. It’s utter devotion, surrendering his heart stripped bare from pride and lies to you. It’s complete submission, one that his dominant side has always found it hard to do but done it so easily when it comes to you.
Heeseung doesn’t do worship, but you’re the only altar he will ever kneel to.
His head hangs low, burgundy hair falling over his eyes as his shoulders shake once.
“I know,” he mutters, sounding wrecked.
Heeseung has his hands fisted on his lap, as though it’s his only source of strength, shaking from the overwhelming desperation brimming in his scent.
“I was a coward.”
You gasp, not expecting such action. “Heeseung, get up—“
“Not until you hear me out,” he pleads.
He lifts his head. Heeseung’s wide, bambi eyes look up at you, veiled with a thick layer of tears.
“I fought the bond because I was afraid. I was so fucking scared. I was always the one to leave first, to run and detach fast, but you, Y/N…”
His fingers twitch, fighting the urge to reach out.
“You made me want to stay.”
Your breath catches.
“I’m scared because giving in would mean finally belonging to someone.”
His eyes find yours again, looking soft and destroyed all over. Your heart traitorously skips a beat.
“But right now, I’d give up everything to belong to you.”
His vulnerability, raw and edged with hopelessness, tugs at your wounded heartstrings. You instinctively step back from the sheer weight of it.
“Y/N, please. If your omega never forgives me,” he chokes out, feeling the distance like a slap in the face. He bites back the instinct to take your hand, but he doesn’t dare touch you.
Not until you allow him to.
“If she never forgives me, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning forgiveness from you.”
A teardrop spills from his lash line, staining his cheeks wet.
You give a helpless shake of your head, your resolve slowly crumbling.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“Then I’ll show you. I’ll show you that I mean this.”
His knees scrape against the floor as he inches closer. Tears stream down his face in relentless waves, the lower part of his lips trembling greatly.
“I’m not asking you to take me back. I just need permission from you,” he begs, almost sobbing into his speech.
“Please let me try. I want to become the man that deserves you, Y/N.”
Your lips part, a ghost of a shaky breath escaping your lips.
You’re not used to this kind of devotion.
Not from those alphas who wanted you because they thought having the shy girl who barely talks to men was trophy-worthy. Not from those men who see you as nothing more than their kink fantasies. Not from those guys who thought you were boring and not exciting.
But tonight, as moonlight leaks through the glass of the windows and spills across the floor as if the Moon Goddess has decreed this to happen herself—Heeseung sits there, bruising knees digging into the marble tiles, and begs you to give him a chance.
You’re not used to this kind of devotion, yet you let a small part of your heart, a traitor that it is—flutters from the impact of his words.
You take another step backward, as if being physically away from him would help recover your resolve.
“I…” you can’t find your voice, not when he’s looking at you with regret spilling from his round eyes. Not when he’s gazing up at you like he was a sinner and you were his only saviour.
“I don’t understand, Heeseung,” is the only thing you can whisper, deciding to be truthful. “You were so—so hellbent on trying to deny the bond. You even went to Narin after I confronted you,” you lick your lips, gut twisting sharply at the mention of your captain. You still haven’t spoken to her until this day.
“Why now? Why…change your mind? I already made it easier for you—I cut the bond!”
Heeseung flinches. The reality slaps him in the face again, presenting him with the consequences of his actions on the table.
He knew it won’t be easy, but God—hearing the hurt in your voice pains him more than the ache in his knees.
Heeseung almost crawls forward.
“I’m a coward, Y/N,” he breathes out. “Losing you made me realise that I was never trying to escape the bond.”
His head dips lower, shaking it slowly to himself.
“I was trying to escape what the bond demanded of me.”
Heeseung lifts his gaze, raising his hands, gesturing to you like a priceless painting. There’s a sad smile on his face.
“Settling down, staying, being devoted only to you…those are the only things you deserve. Nothing less.”
His voice is somehow louder than the racing pulse in your ears. You know what’s coming, yet you’re still not prepared for the sting of the truth.
“I am everything less than that,” he finishes. He closes his eyes, not willing to see the look you might wear on your face.
There’s a long pause. The world is quiet outside, not even a sound of cars passing by can be heard. Heeseung doesn’t know how late it already is, or how long he’s been on his knees, but he doesn’t care.
Hurting his knees is the kindest punishment you can ever give him.
You, on the other hand, are beyond devastated. Truly, you don’t think Heeseung could ever hurt you more than he already did. But his confession—fuck.
Heeseung wasn’t ready to step up and become the love that you deserve and it’s killing you that he chose to run instead of try.
It’s killing you that you weren’t an option until fate decided to twist everything around.
With resentment and resignation, you finally decide.
“The bond is no longer there. You can just forget about this, Heeseung.”
Heeseung thinks being shot to death would hurt less than this.
You, however, are already shutting him out.
“If you need closure, just know that one day I will forgive you. It’s not now, not next week, and probably not in months.” Or years. “But I will.”
There’s a strange ache blooming in your chest. One that comes as a price of letting something precious go.
“I hope that’ll help ease your mind.”
God, the bond was precious to you. Heeseung was precious to you.
How did it come to this?
Across from you, Heeseung is crumbling down.
“No, please—” he chokes, scrambling for some air. He can’t breathe.
“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance to be forgiven.”
“You don’t have to try so hard, Heeseung. The bond is gone.”
“I don’t care about the bond!” He hits his chest with a fist, the pain becoming unbearable. “I hurt you, Y/N. With or without the bond, nothing can change the fact that I hurt you and I can’t live with myself knowing that I hurt someone innocent.”
Heeseung can feel the sting of his nails digging into his palm. Anytime now and he’ll be drawing blood from how hard he’s fisting it.
The tears are welling up in your eyes again but you hold your ground.
“Please, I beg you, and I beg you hard, Y/N.”
Heeseung clasps his hands, the pink of his nails turning white from how hard he’s doing it.
“I beg you—please let me try to fix this. Please let me earn your forgiveness. Please, Y/N.”
Your heart breaks at the determination in his voice.
“It won’t be easy.”
“However long it takes,” he pushes, searching your eyes with his glistening ones, his voice raw with urgency.
“I won’t wait for you.”
His eyes burn with more hot tears.
He’s lost you for good, hasn’t he?
“You don’t have to,” he quietly whispers. “I just need your permission to try.”
You swallow down the urge to scream. His promise sounds bigger than his whole existence, yet your heart foolishly roots for him.
“You can try. But I can’t promise you anything.”
You don’t wait for his reply. Quickly, as if your heels were on fire, you turn around and leave him.
Alone, still kneeling. Traces of his regret are still wet on his cheeks.
You hear him sniffle, but you don’t look back.
Heeseung sits alone in the darkness of his producer room.
The space resembles a shipwreck. If Jay didn’t see any crumpled papers the last time he was here, he’d be surprised to see the growing pile of them now.
Heeseung has tried to write something. Or anything that could get this remorse out of his system. He wants to translate his grief into something that is at least listenable. Not whatever mess he is inside.
But nothing really comes out.
The bullpoint of his pen ends up writing your name instead. In round letters, in cursive. In shaky hands, and in tears.
Y/N.
I’m sorry, Y/N…please forgive me.
A word of your name turns into long written words of regret and silent confession. Letters that he will crumple and throw, then pick it up to read back and add more.
There is a dull ache in his knees, turning purple from the time he spent on the floor for you. He lets the bruise pulse, making no attempts to ice it or stop it. It’s a reminder to him.
A reminder of the ticket of mercy you barely granted him.
A reminder of the bond still hanging limply by his finger.
It’s not even a pain if he put it beside the suffering you went through because of him.
You’re a coward.
His wolf suddenly speaks, adding salt to the wound.
Heeseung closes his eyes shut.
“Shut up,” he grumbles, not appreciating being reprimanded when he’s already a wreck. But his wolf, justifyingly so, seems to hold a grudge against him because he doesn’t stop.
I lost my mate because of you. You ran away from her.
“Yes, I did. I know that,” he grunts. He already resents himself for it, why is he wolf making it harder for him as if they weren’t two halves of one soul?
Knowing isn’t enough. Remember the night you made her bleed.
The memory, as if summoned, crawls its way back into his mind. As if he was brought back to that fateful night, Heeseung can feel his gut twisting sharply inside.
Remember the night she trembled and cut the bond because you went too far.
“Stop,” Heeseung whisper-shouts.
It feels like the room is shrinking and the walls are closing in on him because the air can’t seem to reach his lungs. Heeseung cowers, covering his ears with both hands. The sting of hot tears starts to burn at the corners of his eyes.
Your face, pale and ghostly, haunts the edges of his thoughts. He still recalls how hard you shook from shock. He still recalls the tremble in your legs as you hold onto the door for dear life.
He really went too far.
And if proving his point, his wolf taunts more.
Remember the omegas you touched while she was dying when I kept telling you to stop.
The pen drops and clatters on the floor. Heeseung stands and sways, his vision blurry from unshed tears.
He remembers it.
The nights he spent trying to bury any attachment towards you and the bond. The nights he spent pleasing other omegas despite not enjoying it at all. The nights he spent ignoring the ache in his chest, the voice of his wolf—as if running away would ever be enough to excuse him from his fate.
While all the time, you had been suffering alone.
Nausea creeps up the back of his throat.
“No, please stop—”
His wolf snarls, pent-up anger and frustration finally spilling out.
She could be in someone else’s arms now. Someone gentler. Someone braver than you.
The nausea punches through his chest.
Heeseung scrambles for the door, yanking it open and stumbles out of his producer room to the bathroom. He barely makes it before his stomach churns violently and doubles over.
He throws up his long-forgotten lunch because he missed his dinner, the bile unforgiving to the spasms in his gut. Heeseung knees over the toilet until his stomach empties and grief starts to taste metallic on his tongue.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and slumps onto the floor. It’s a ringing silence in his ears before a sob escapes his lips.
Then another.
Before he knows it, it has turned into a full-on wailing. The tears are finally giving up, now streaming endlessly down his cheeks like tiny rivers.
Heeseung lets himself remember the faces of the omegas he touched. A betrayal of the bond he’ll never forgive himself for.
Heeseung lets himself remember the person you are—someone who deserves protection and affection. Someone who can be literally with anyone; any deserving alpha who knows how to treat you right.
Anyone in this world. Anyone from his campus. Anyone from his team. Anyone from his house.
Heeseung is fast to turn around and vomits again. The image of Jay being the perfect alpha for you makes his chest caves and breaks.
Fuck. Fuck, no. Please—no.
He always made fun of Riki when the younger complained about their too-good alpha friend. He never really understood why Riki is still on edge whenever Jay is around his girlfriend, despite knowing that him agreeing to help with his girlfriend’s heat was purely out of kindness.
But now he knows. Now he fucking knows.
Jay is just too good to be true. Jay never touches omegas carelessly. Jay lowers his voice when he speaks to them. Jay likes taking care of people like they’re his own.
Jay also cares about you. He knows that. The punch he almost threw at Heeseung that night was proof enough.
And in a peak of complete crumbling from his desperation to be forgiven, from his humility to admit to his mistakes—a fast-growing insecurity is piling up in his chest.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
He’s suffocating again.
A sudden thought flashes through his head. His frantic mind, desperate for some relief, entertains the thought without thinking further.
Just cut the bond too. End this suffering and cut the bond.
Heeseung raises his finger to his scent gland, still thudding violently from the rush of his emotions running in his veins.
Could he really cut the bond?
Don’t you dare.
“But it’s too painful…” he cries.
She’s my mate! If you end it now, I will tear you apart myself. You will fucking die, Heeseung.
Heeseung folds in on himself, crouching lower on the floor. His whole body shakes from the force of his tears.
“Why her?” he whispers helplessly.
“Why someone so precious? Why her?”
His wolf doesn’t answer. Heeseung is left sobbing to himself, already resigned to his fate and the silence from his alpha.
Because he knows, only the Goddess of the Moon has the answer to that.
Only she knows why he was sent something holy when he’s too ruined to hold it.
You never would have expected to get hurt from the one thing you wanted the most.
Love.
The tale of true mates.
Maybe that’s the reason why most people dislike it. Maybe all this time, it wasn’t because of envy or ridicule. Maybe all this time, people had already realised how destructive it could be before you did.
Something intangible that can only be felt has the power to destroy you through someone else’s actions and decisions? It’s no wonder, really.
You were just too blind and too delusional for even dreaming of it in the first place.
Life hasn’t been easy since the breaking of the bond.
You went on autopilot for the first week, just trying to save yourself from a bad attendance record and getting kicked out of the cheerleader squad. The latter proved to be harder to overcome since the source of your pain and the current centre of your universe—Heeseung—was always there on the court, glancing at you at every chance he got.
It’s almost laughable, the way he’s trying to catch your gaze now when he used to avoid it so much.
You dated people a couple of times before, but the breakups were never this bad. They hurt, of course, but this bond seemed to amplify every emotion you felt for Heeseung and yourself. Again, one of the reasons you believe why most people started hating it.
The whole time, you only had yourself. Sometimes Yujin would come into your room to cuddle you and let you cry into her shoulders. She’d stay as long as a med student could—watching movies together, painting your nails, crying with you.
All the time when you thought you craved love, you sometimes forgot that love doesn’t always mean romantic relationships. Sometimes it comes in the form of Yujin waking up before her alarm to make you your favourite pancakes.
Sometimes love comes in the form of Rei, despite the two of you having only gotten closer recently, checking up on you every meal time to make sure you eat well.
Sometimes love comes through a phone call with your parents, asking about your day and showing you the small garden they’re growing in the backyard.
And slowly, eventually, you realise that love also means choosing yourself over the bond.
Choosing yourself means stop clinging onto the bond. Choosing yourself means not waiting on Heeseung to get his acts right or for the right apology. Choosing yourself means you stop letting the bond and Heeseung dictate how you go about your life from now on.
Heeseung can try all he wants, and you might or might not see his efforts—but you won’t wait for him.
You’re done waiting.
Strangely, it doesn’t feel bitter. The thought of finally letting go of the bond sounds more freeing. Like the air is finally settling in your lungs after weeks of drowning.
You find your way back to the pieces of you since the bond broke. For the first time since you cut the thread, your world revolves around something other than pain.
Life comes back in fragments. In trying out pilates with Yujin and laughing when the instructor turns her back to you because Yujin just sucks at stretching.
In late-night convenience store runs with Rei to eat extra spicy noodles that’ll upset your stomach the next morning.
In falling back to your old study habits and excelling a difficult pop quiz.
In helping the squad choreograph for the upcoming routines—because alphas just run hot and can’t seem to stop challenging each other in sports.
You laugh freely now. You don’t have to spend the night worrying about a thread tugging at your ribs.
You don’t have to overthink about…Heeseung. Not anymore.
For a moment, he becomes a maybe. For a few days when you successfully avoid him, he becomes an ‘if only’. A background noise. A consequence.
A wound becoming scarred.
Nothing more.
Or so you tell yourself.
There’s been barely anything from Heeseung since he fell to his knees for you a few days ago. For a while, you think maybe you scared him too much—frightened him with the possibility that you may never come back, until he decided to let silence become his apology.
But apparently, you just don’t notice him trying.
Heeseung, you realise, moves in quiet devotion.
It starts with a can of your favourite grape juice sitting beside your tote bag every time you come back from the restroom. You assume it’s Rei being sweet as always—the omega has taken a great liking to you since the day you first spoke.
You don’t notice how consistent its appearance is with Heeseung’s promise.
You overlook the fact that it starts showing up the very next day after your painful conversation.
“But how did he know?” you whisper to yourself, staring down the can like it’s a threat now.
You turn it in your palm, feeling the coldness seep into your fingers. Then, faintly, you smell him.
His pheromones. Cinnamon and sea salt clings to the can like an afterthought. Like Heeseung didn’t mean to leave his traces but the scent lingers anyway.
It’s been quite a while since you smelled it. Ever since you cut the tie, you no longer can sense his pheromones from afar. It only happens when you’re in close proximity to him, which is very rare to happen now.
Now, as his scent drifts to your senses, you find yourself actually missing it. Missing the warmth and safety it used to offer. Missing the familiarity of it.
Your heart aches.
No matter how forward you’ve moved in your healing progress, there’ll always be a big why living in the back of your mind.
You really could’ve had it all.
But you don’t let it get to you. In all honesty, it is a sweet gesture and a nice start, yes, but it’s not enough. Even your baby cousin knows that you’re crazy about grape juice. Heeseung didn’t exactly make a groundbreaking discovery with this one.
The thought still counts, though.
It slips from your mind faster than you’d like to admit. Apart from the upcoming great friendly match between your basketball team and their sworn rival the eastern university, you have a business case study pitching competition set in two weeks.
Meetings become more frequent, time spent at the library becomes longer. You wish they would pick another place to do the discussion because the library is literally an air conditioner reincarnate—always too cold for your body.
The chill autumn air only worsens the cold. Winter is coming and you can’t help but keep adding more layers to your clothes each time you walk out of the apartment to visit the library.
Except today, there is someone already waiting by the library door. A face that you recognise with a single glance. Features that you memorise by heart, stopping you in your tracks before you reach the door.
Heeseung.
His body is adorned with a brown trench coat that reaches his calves, outlining his proportions and tall figure perfectly. He has one hand resting in one of the pockets, while another is holding a pink paper bag.
Burgundy hair curtains his forehead, a complement to his already-handsome features. But the look on his face is forlorn, distant eyes staring into space, looking lost in his own thoughts.
You try not to pay him any mind and start walking again.
As if he was wired to only sense your presence, Heeseung snaps out of his trance and whips his head to you. His eyes soften, lips parting slightly. You avert your eyes.
“Y/N.”
This time, you pretend you just notice him and give him a nod. “Heeseung,” you reply, already moving away to get inside. But Heeseung is fast to stop you.
“Wait! I–I have something for you.”
Heeseung holds out the paper bag to you, his own ears turning the same shade. You blink up at him before trying to peer inside, not yet accepting it.
“What is this?”
“Something to keep you warm,” he breathes out, like he can’t believe you’re actually talking to him. “It’s getting chiller. Please accept it.”
For a second, you just study his face. His round eyes look at you like he’s appreciating and memorising your face all at once. There is something about his expression that looks like he’s hopeful that you’d accept the paper bag, but at the same time, already expecting you to reject it.
After a few seconds of no signs of you accepting his gifts, Heeseung slowly lowers his extended arm. His face falls, but he quickly schools it into a neutral expression.
“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to,” he licks his lips with a swipe of his tongue, already foreseeing the rejection.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask and instantly regret your tone. It’s unintentionally clipped, very unlike you.
But Heeseung isn’t fazed. If anything, he looks shyer now.
“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. The pink in his ears has turned bright red—from the cold or from his own shyness, you’re not sure.
One thing you know is that you’re not used to this side of the dominant alpha.
The side that he showed you once before he dipped. That night when he held a heat pack in your hand, insisting on keeping you warm. For a split second, you wonder if it was instinct or if he really meant it, already knowing the answer to it.
It was probably the former.
A gush of chill air passes by and you shiver. Right, you’re still standing outside of the library with two layers of sweater and are still trembling.
Finally, you take the paper bag from him. Heeseung startles, not expecting the sudden gesture and definitely not expecting the graze of a touch of your finger brushing his. It makes him shudder, like your touch is bigger than the cold autumn air.
“Thank you,” you give him a tight-lipped smile, watching as his expression brightens up. Without waiting for his reply, you’re already heading to the door, ready to leave the alpha behind.
Before the door closes, you hear a whisper of his voice, carried by the bone-chilling air.
“Good luck with your competition, Y/N.”
You wonder how he knew about it, but the moment you sit at the table right in front of Jungwon—one of your teammates—you finally remember that they’re somehow friends.
The alpha gives you a dimpled smile. “Hey, Y/N. You’re early.”
“You too.” You pause, weighing the words in your head. “Jungwon, do you know Heeseung?”
Jungwon doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he eyes the pink paper bag now placed on the table, then nods to himself.
“Yes. Please don’t get mad at me, though. I’m kind of rooting for him.” He peeks into the paper bag and whistles. “Wow, hyung really doesn’t play.”
You snatch the paper bag and put it on the chair beside you. You’ve peeked inside, and is it a surprise to say that you were surprised?
A bunch of heat packs. A pair of blue mittens. A pack of tissue. A minty inhaler. And the one that contributes the most weight—a can of grape juice, already unchilled.
It’s that night all over again. The paracetamol that you downed because you did get a headache after a whole night of crying. The wet tissues that you used to wipe your tear-stained face. The heat pack that kept you warm the whole time you sat outside of the convenience store.
Everything Heeseung picked out has always been too…thoughtful.
While waiting for the rest of your group members to arrive, with Jungwon already typing on his laptop and talking about something you’re too distracted to hear—you’re swamped with your own conflicting emotions again.
Heeseung has always had the capability to care for people. To care for you. He was gentle with you that night. And fuck, you still hate what he did to you—but even the day he called you delusional, he was very soft with the way he talked to you.
The cruelest part is that Heeseung was never incapable of tenderness.
He had simply been too afraid to offer it where it mattered most.
He told you he wasn’t ready to step up to be the man that you deserved, but that sounds like a flimsy excuse now.
What was he so afraid of?
You really don’t want to make it easy for him, and you’re already ahead of the bond and the concept of love. You’ve already learned your lesson. You still remember the pain.
But, dear Goddess, sometimes you really wish that he was brave enough.
The rest of your group members arrive shortly after, each wearing thick layers like you do. As Jungwon begins the discussion that will continue on until late evening, you reach inside the paper bag and grab one of the heat packs.
Silently, you thank Heeseung in your head.
Just as you have expected, the discussion wraps up when night has already fallen. You stretch in your seat, taking your own sweet time as your group members tidy up.
Jungwon is the last one to leave, carrying his backpack on his wide shoulders. He looks at you finally standing up with a cheeky smile on his face.
“See you tomorrow for the consultation, Y/N. I would’ve offered to walk you home but I don’t wanna ruin the chance for a certain alpha.”
Your brows furrow, not really catching the meaning behind his teasing smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Just make sure to use the front door,” Jungwon is already walking away, giving you a dismissive wave of his hand. “Night!”
You stare at his retreating figure and then something clicks in your mind. Like an instinct, your heart starts racing fast.
Did he mean Heeseung?
Your hands quickly gather your stuff and toss them into your tote bag. The paper bag from Heeseung hangs tightly in your grip as you near the entrance of the library.
True to your speculation, Heeseung is already waiting outside. He has ditched his trench coat, now wearing his jersey that shows off his arms. The number ‘1’ and ‘HEESEUNG’ on the back of his jersey stares at you, unmistakingly him.
You quickly move past him as if you didn’t see him. Almost less than a second after, his footsteps are already echoing from behind you.
“Y/N, wait!”
Heeseung is barely panting in front of you, blocking your way home. You sport a blank expression despite the skips your heart is making.
“What are you doing here?”
“I,” Heeseung catches his breath, and you can’t help but notice the goosebumps in his skin. You almost frown.
What the hell was he thinking, wearing that sleeveless jersey in this weather? The trench coat must be inside his duffle bag, because you don’t see it hanging in his arms.
But the thought remains in your mind. And will probably stay there forever.
You almost miss it when he continues.
“I want to walk you home. No.” Heeseung gathers his voice, now sounding softer, asking for permission.
“Can I walk you home?”
Your answer is quick. “No.”
You can almost feel the pause in his breath. Heeseung blinks once, regaining his composure after a few seconds.
“...Okay,” he nods, eyes slightly distant like he’s not even sure if he means it. “Okay. But can you let me call you an Uber?”
You shake your head, standing your ground.
“My dorm is not far from here.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“I want to walk.”
Silence passes by, along with the air that’s borderline freezing. You don’t know if alphas just naturally run hot, because you’re close to turning into ice despite the layers, but Heeseung doesn’t even flinch.
He finally takes a step back, slightly dipping his head as he nods.
“Okay,” he says again, more like convincing himself. But then he meets your eyes, and the wistful glint of his gaze doesn't go unnoticed by you. Something tugs at your heart.
“At least let Jungwon know when you’re home. Please?” he pleads. “You don’t have to text me. I’ll just—hear from him.”
You purse your lips, giving the alpha a once-over before finally giving in.
“Fine. I will.”
The corner of his lips quirks up but Heeseung covers it quickly. He steps aside, clearing the path for you to go home. You don’t waste time and begin walking, feeling his eyes boring into your skull.
“Please be safe, Y/N.”
You never reply.
The next day, the alpha is not waiting by the door. Jungwon stands in his place instead, the paper bag now has been upgraded to a reusable lunch bag with flower motifs on it.
“Your alpha has a producer meeting today.”
You’re quick to deny.” He’s not my alpha.”
Jungwon ignores you like you’re a wall and opens the lunch bag for you to see.
“Two thermos there. One is chicken porridge, another is hot tea. Not sure if you’re a coffee-person or not, so Heeseung hyung wanted to be safe.” Jungwon speaks like he’s rehearsed it, and to be honest, he kind of did (Heeseung forced him, but you don’t have to know that).
You’re stunned. “What?”
“Don’t worry, it’s grape tea. I don’t know where he got it from, though,” Jungwon shrugs then continues his duty as Heeseung’s greatest accomplice. “More heat packs. I didn’t see you use the mittens yesterday so I told him maybe you didn’t like blue…? So he prepared the red pair for you.”
“Wait, Jungwon—”
“And lastly, a lunch bag with daisies prints, for his most precious daisy in this world.” Jungwon beams wide, dimples curving deep and shoves the lunch bag into your bag.
“How’s his performance?”
“You’re insufferable,” you scoff and snatch the lunch bag from his grasp. You quickly go inside, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks betraying your indifference.
Your mind, another traitor, is filled with the thoughts of Heeseung.
Is this him trying?
You’re not sure how to feel about it, but your heart surely knows her shits—fluttering like you’re a virgin being courted.
Which, technically, in every way possible—you are.
You try to ignore it. During break, you remember to control your expression as you eat the porridge, aware of Jungwon’s hawking eyes gauging at your reaction.
Heeseung is sure smart to pick him as his wingman. That alpha is a persistent menace.
But no. You’re not going to fold easily.
Your omega is still silent, and the damage has been too severe. For all you know, Heeseung might be just performing remorse. Only time can tell if he was really sincere and serious or not.
After all, consistency is a great telltale of devotion.
However, as if the world was suddenly eager to prove you wrong, Heeseung keeps showing up.
He comes again at night, this time fully covered up and looking dashing in his white button up and loosened tie. You guess he just came back from the meeting, judging from the formality of the attire. But you can’t help but let your eyes linger longer on his face, suddenly too conscious of his height.
Okay, what the fuck. He’s always been handsome. There’s nothing surprising about it.
“Can I walk you home?”
You’re snapped out of your thoughts when his voice, low and soft, reaches your ears. You shake your head.
“No.”
“I’ll keep my distance,” he says quickly. “You won’t even notice I’m there. Please?”
You keep your walls steady. “Why are you doing this?”
The question hangs in the air. Heeseung’s gaze softens, but there’s a cloud of doubt swirling behind his eyes now. For the first time, you see the alpha shivers in the cold.
“You gave me a chance,” he says, voice clear and crisp. Like it’s a conviction. Like it’s something he’s deliberately chosen.
“I want to try until you can forgive me. And I know it’ll never be enough. I know I’ll be too selfish to hope…”
Heeseung swipes a tongue across his lips. He gives you a nervous glance, but seeing how attentive you look despite your indifference, Heeseung almost breaks down.
You’re still kind even in your resentment.
“But I still hope that one day you can accept me as your alpha.”
You hum, trying to sound unimpressed despite the loud thumping of your heart. The bitterness still leaks when you speak.
“You were my alpha.”
Heeseung shakes his head and gives you a humourless smile.
“No, I wasn’t,” his voice is strained, like he’s holding a storm of emotions with his palm.
“The Goddess might’ve assigned me to be your alpha. But I failed my duties. You were just forced to deal with what fate had chosen for you.”
The moonlight shining on him highlights the tired lines at the edges of his eyes. For the past few weeks, you have no idea how Heeseung was doing. And you know no one can hold it over your head for not caring.
But something in him feels altered. Not gentler—Heeseung had always been gentle in ways he never admitted.
He seems more humbled. Like the weight of pride is finally bowing his head down, his gaze always sanded down by grief. Every word now sounds chosen, as if he has learned the cost of speaking carelessly.
Heeseung holds your eyes, sincerity spilling over the edges.
“But now I want you to choose me. Not out of obligation, or because fate said so. I want to be chosen because you know I’m the right alpha for you.”
Isn’t it unfair?
You want the resentment to turn into fiery hatred, but your traitorous heart still melts at his devotion. How can you hate him when he makes you sound like you were the centre of his universe?
Still, you hold your ground.
“You know I won’t wait for you. What if I choose another deserving alpha?”
Heeseung’s face goes white. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows, but he still nods.
“I will break,” he admits, the most honest he’s ever been. “But I’ll still pray that he shows you the love I failed to give when I had the chance.”
The sheer weight of his speech almost renders you breathless. Remorse, as if it’s been a lifelong companion, drips heavy in his voice. For a short moment, you can’t hold his gaze—it looks so intense and longing, you don’t know if you can hold this newfound devotion. It’s too deep and full of regret.
It’s after a minute of silence that you finally find your voice.
“You can walk me home from behind.”
You turn around first before he can see the change in your face. Your stupid human heart, as if awakening from the slumber from weeks ago when things were still all butterflies and stolen glances—seems to recognise the alpha now trailing after you ten paces away and fluttering around shamelessly..
The moon shines exceptionally bright tonight, as if the Goddess herself is watching her war-torn lovers patching up the bridge once broken by pride and fear.
“Are you still angry?”
Once you’re home and stripped and showered, you stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom. The moonlight cracks through the small space you leave open, decorating your bed with stripes of pale blue.
You put a palm over your heart, trying to feel your wolf.
“Are you still mad at him?”
Silence. There’s no response from your omega. You wait for a few breaths before sighing.
“You’ve always been the hard headed one out of the two of us,” you comment, suddenly missing the other half of your soul that’s been so long quiet.
“But it’s good that you are,” you slowly whisper.
“Because if you’re as soft as I am, then Heeseung would be forgiven already.”
This time, there’s no resistance as the memory of the burgundy-haired alpha comes back—not that he ever left, anyway.
“I’m still mad at him, too.”
You remember the time Heeseung actively avoided your gaze. You used to wonder why, but knowing the answer also didn’t help ease the pain. Knowing that he avoided you because of the bond never makes the pain feel less hurtful.
But the way he searches your eyes now, holding your gaze with a tenderness you’ve never seen before…it softens the pain.
Where he used to run from you, he’s now seeking you every chance he gets. After practice, after meetings, after classes. In sleeveless jersey, in suit and tie, in his usual baggy graphic T-shirts.
Heeseung used to be nowhere to be found, but he’s everywhere now.
The reality of his efforts to try patching up the bond suddenly feels too scary. Because if he’s changed for good, if he’s really putting his all to win back your heart—are you confident that you still can move past everything?
The sufferings you endured. The omegas he slept with. The sleepless spent chanting his name in pain. The night when everything fell apart.
Can you really let them go?
“I don’t know,” you whisper to no one, a knot of uneasiness tightening in your chest.
“I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
Heeseung seems to find you easily nowadays.
At first, you doubt the people around you. Everyone is suddenly related to him in some ways somehow. There must be an insider that tells him your whereabouts.
Whether it’s Jungwon or Yujin, you don’t know. You hope it’s not Yujin, though. You know she despises what Heeseung did to you, but the beta is also quietly rooting for him. She hid it well, too.
But her cover was blown one night when you were having a movie night in your bed. She was so close and she was typing something on her phone. You accidentally looked, but honest to Goddess your heart almost dropped when you saw Heeseung’s name.
“Why are you texting with Heeseung?” You forced your face into the screen, deliberately ignoring the sudden seeds of jealousy in your chest.
Yujin scrambled to sit up, but it was too late. You had already seen them all.
Lee Heeseung
did she arrive home safely?
You
Yeap!
Safely tucked in bed!
“Yujin, you traitor!”
“Ow! Ow!” Yujin ducked the pillow you threw at her, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid your punches. “Girl, hear me out first!”
“Why are you helping him?” you heaved out, glaring daggers at her. Yujin rubbed her arms, jutting out an apologetic pout.
“I’m so sorry…he just wants to know if you get home safe, Y/N. I don’t see anything wrong or invasive about that.”
Your heart stuttered. Did he really do that? But you feigned an angry look.
“So you just agreed to be his accomplice? You’re no different from Jungwon.”
“I mean, I lowkey ship you guys. But he has to grovel first, and I hope he’s been doing it right.”
You rolled your eyes and settled back under the covers. “How long has it been?”
“Don’t get mad at me please.”
“Yujin.”
“He’s been asking me if you reach home safely for more than two weeks now.”
Your breath hitched.
That’s…since before he started appearing at the library.
And today, as you see Heeseung lingering around the business compound, donning a thin brown cardigan that highlights his body snugly, you’re contemplating whether to assault Jungwon or Yujin through the phone after this.
But there’s no time to think, as Heeseung—curse his dominant trait, really—easily senses your scent and catches your eyes. He gives you a small smile and walks up to you. The grip you have on the strap of your tote bag has turned knuckle-white.
“Y/N.”
“Hey.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
You swallow, trying not to fold. “Yeah, just now. You?”
Heeseung nods.”I have too.” Then he extends a hand towards your tote bag.
“Let me hold your bag and walk you home.”
You hesitate for a moment before giving in.
Fuck, you curse the universe.
Why is he so consistent?
Heeseung knows he’s not being slick when he suddenly makes a detour to the convenience store under the pretense of feeling hungry.
But you follow him anyway, gullible enough to believe that he has more space for more food. Which, actually, you’re not completely wrong. Heeseung loves food. But he’s not exactly here to eat.
He’s here to steal more time to be with you.
The fluorescent lamp hums overhead, the convenience store smells like cooked noodles and microwaved pastries. Under this light, you look shorter than him, reaching not taller than his chin.
Heeseung holds back the urge to reach out and caress your head. He can’t ruin things now that you finally let him walk you home side by side. That’s progress. A couple of weeks ago, you didn't even let him follow.
He really can’t afford to ruin it.
Heeseung trails after you to aisle number two where rows of snacks and chips line up the shelves. There’s something almost domestic about watching you hum as you skim through the options.
It feels more intimate than kneeling at your feet ever did.
“What do you usually get?” he asks, trying to sound casual.
You hold up a bag of snacks, a small grin unknowingly splits across your face.
“This one,” you shake the plastic with eyes shining bright. Heeseung thinks he’s lost his breath. “These seaweed tempeh chips.”
Heeseung stares at you like you just handed him a sacred relic, eyes dripping with silent, genuine surprise.
“These are your favourite?”
You blink and tilt your head, not sure how to make sense of his stunned reaction. “Yeah…?”
A small smile breaks on his mouth. Heeseung looks down at the bag of chips, feeling his chest tightens just from that simple information.
She likes grape juice. She likes tempeh chips.
God, I’m learning about her.
His silent meltdown goes unnoticed by you. You walk further and stop by the drinks fridge, already reaching for your favourite grape juice.
This time, Heeseung couldn’t stop the chuckle that leaves his lips. “You really love drinking that, don’t you?”
“I sure do,” you glance up at him. “Since kindergarten, by the way. It’s just so good and cheap. What about you?”
Heeseung’s heart nearly stops.
“I’m sorry?”
“What’s your favourite drink, Heeseung?”
Heeseung forces himself to reply when you’re already looking at him suspiciously.
“Zero Coke.”
“Ah,” you nod, then reach up to where a line of Zero Coke is put on display. You pluck the second can in the line and hand it to him.
“Hygiene tips: always take the second or the third can,” you casually say and tap on the can. “Because everybody touches the first one.”
Then you turn around, drifting toward the candy aisle, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.
Leaving Heeseung stunned, standing like a statue of racing heart and quiet breakdown as he holds the can close to his chest.
Later that night, after sending you home safely, Heeseung enters his shared apartment wordlessly. He can hear the F1 sportscaster from the living room—Jay must haven’t gone to bed yet.
“Hey, Hee,” his friend greets, sprawled on the couch with a can of beer in one hand. But his focus on the television stops once he notices Heeseung’s red-rimmed eyes.
“Fuck. Heeseung!” Jay rushes to him and holds him just before his knees finally give up.
The anchor of sorrow and grief that has been weighing heavier since the convenience store run is finally pulling him down. Heeseung drops to the floor, already feeling the tears wetting his cheeks.
“Hee, what’s wrong?” Jay asks, trying to keep the worry in his voice. “Did something happen? Tell me!”
Heeseung shakes his head, curling up into Jay’s hold and sobs even harder.
“Jay-ah,” Heeseung chokes, unable to hold back his sobs.
“Her favourite chips are seaweed tempeh.”
Jay is rendered speechless by the unexpected revelation.
“...What?”
“Seaweed tempeh,” he sobs, voice cracking. “Seaweed tempeh chips, grape juice, gummy bears. She bakes when she’s stressed. She hates mornings but wakes up early. She has hygiene tips for canned drinks.”
His voice splinters, like a branch breaking down from the tree.
Jay blinks. “You’re sobbing over…basic information?”
“That I should’ve known.”
Heeseung clutches Jay’s shirt, the sadness now palpable.
“Simple things about her that I never made any effort to know because I was so fucking busy being an asshole.”
In that moment, it finally clicks in Jay’s mind. It was never about snacks.
“I was her mate and I didn’t know.”
It’s about regret.
Jay’s expression softens instantly, understanding settling in his features. He sits on the floor with him, letting Heeseung cry into his shoulders, shaking like a dead leaf. The distressed accent of his spicy and salty pheromones is drenching the air, but Jay fights the urge to scowl. Alphas don’t exactly respond well to another alpha’s distressed pheromones.
Beside him, Heeseung is still sobbing like a child experiencing a trip of his foot for the first time.
“Somebody else could’ve been in my place,” he cries softly. “She could’ve been asking another alpha, ‘What’s your favourite drink?’ and I almost made it not me.”
Heeseung cries for what it’s worth. For the regret and grief of the what-ifs that could’ve happened if only he didn’t mess up. For the gratitude that you’re finally letting him the access to the information only privy to those who are close enough with you.
For the unexpected relief when you asked him back.
“So you’re crying because she let you know her,” Jay concludes once Heeseung has calmed down enough to talk properly.
They’re still sitting on the floor. The F1 show that Jay was watching prior to his sudden breakdown is now playing like background noise.
Heeseung nods weakly. “Yeah.”
“What did it feel like?”
Heeseung gives him a wistful smile.
“Disbelief. Because I can’t believe it feels so easy to just…have this affection for someone over knowing what their favourite drinks are.”
Heeseung looks into the distance, lost in thoughts and memory.
“I never feel this way for anybody. It’s scary, because now I want to know more.”
He stares into the space in front of him, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his cardigan.
“I want to know how she likes her eggs. I want to know which detergent she likes to use. What side of the bed she sleeps on,” Heeseung whispers, voice trembling. “I want to know everything about her and it’s so scary, Jay.”
There’s a pause before he looks down, sounding more broken than he has been tonight.
“It’s so scary because I realised it wasn’t the bond that terrified me.”
Heeseung remembers how happy he felt when you still rub your nose every time you get shy. How excited he felt when you cover your mouth as you laugh—little things he used to know about you that still makes you you.
“It wasn’t.”
Knowing someone has never felt this easy and freeing.
“It was how badly I could love her.”
The confession doesn’t land hard. It settles slowly, like a missing puzzle finally finding its place. His wolf stirs inside, yipping happily at the declaration.
Jay takes a moment to process everything before he sighs. He reaches out a hand and pats Heeseung on his shoulder.
“There, there. You’re making progress, Hee. You’re starting to see her more than the bond you guys shared.”
As if summoned, his scent gland pulses sharply. Heeseung yelps, clutching his nape with a quick hand. His scent spikes dangerously, spicy cinnamon burning the atmosphere.
“Hee!”
“It hurts,” Heeseung chokes, the pain quickly spreading to other parts of his body. “Fuck, Jay—”
Drip.
Both alphas instantly freeze.
On the carpet where they sit, is a drop of blood, staining the cream-coloured material with crimson red.
Jay slowly looks up, heart beating fast, chanting ‘No, no, no. Please, not you, Heeseung. Please,’ in his mind.
To his horror, the blood came from Heeseung’s nose.
Jay can feel his gut sinking to the floor.
“Hee,” he grabs his shoulders, eyes trained on the trail of blood dripping down his philtrum and his chin. “Hee, listen to me and answer me, okay? Please don’t panic.”
Inside, Jay is already panicking.
Heeseung tries not to, but his body feels scalding hot. The pain comes in waves, not once stopping even if he were to rip his heart open.
“Heeseung, answer me. Did you tell Y/N about the two options or not?”
Jay’s voice is muffled to his ears, but through his hazy mind and blurry vision, Heeseung can still make out the words.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Why?” Jay whispers, breathless and shaken.
“I didn’t want to pressure her into thinking she has to choose me to save me.”
Heeseung’s unfocused eyes find him, desperate and so pitiful that his heart clenches painfully. Jay drops his head on his best friend’s shoulders, fear consuming his being.
“You idiot,” Jay sobs, the dam breaking almost instantly. “She might’ve chosen you anyway.”
Heeseung feels lightheaded. Jay’s voice is like a distant dream—something he’s not sure if he hears or not. Dark spots start appearing on the edges of his vision, almost turning black no matter how hard he blinks.
“Jay-ah…”
The last thing Heeseung remembers before he loses consciousness is Jay screaming his name, voice cracking and hoarse.
okay dang tumblr said this post has reached its limits wtf im gna kms!!! anyway posting a part 3 real soon!!!
synopsis. heeseung loves omegas, but he doesn’t believe in mates—especially fated ones. that kind of destiny is reserved for people like riki and jay. but then he meets you. and the first thing you ask him to do is scent-mark you: an intimate activity shared only between mates. a spin-off from love me (k)not!
warnings. slightly suggestive, fated mates-coded, power imbalance, unjust system and society, harassment against omegas (not by heeseung), &team cameo but they're assholes here sorry! i love them though dw, mating mark, scent-marking, heeseung is a dominant alpha, and a bigger asshole i fear, reader is a cheerleader, alpha!jay being our target again (sorry), alpha!riki, alpha!sunghoon, beta!ahn yujin, omega!rei, sunoo is bi, heeseung is also bi, this omegaverse is partly made up by me! but it’s just a tiny portion of it just to keep the plot going, denial, rejection, angst, not beta read we die like injang, please let me know if i missed anything!
word count. 21,280 words
note. please read this before proceeding 🤎 everything here is purely fictional and it has nothing to do with the members as a person outside of this fanfiction 🤎 also idk how cheerleading works so pls bear with me...
In a private booth of a nightclub, a group of long-legged, broad-shouldered alphas huddle around the table, drinks in hands. The air is layered with pheromones and adrenaline, occasionally flashing with neon lights and blurred with thin smoke.
In the middle of the couch, Heeseung sits leisurely, manspreading with ease. On either side of him, Jay and Riki lean back in a similar posture, each of them engaged in the conversation bouncing between the team.
The team has just won a friendly match against their long-sworn rival, a university from the west, after a frustrating streak of loss for two consecutive tournaments. It wasn’t really a landslide win, considering their competitive skills, but a win is a win. A satisfied smirk curls around Heeseung’s bow-shaped lips, his alpha purring with pride.
Friendly or not, the whiskey surely tastes extra sweet tonight.
“Did you see K’s face just now?” Riki pipes up from his left, still buzzing with adrenaline. Being the last man to score and secure the win for them, it’s obviously hard for Riki to contain his enthusiasm. He’s beaming wide. “I did that. I wiped that smirk off his face, gentlemen!”
The rest of the team roars in reply, infected by Riki’s contagious excitement. Heeseung and Jay wear a fond smile on their lips, clearly delighted to see the younger alpha’s happiness. Glasses clink again as they toast to their win, and to their future wins, and to the sexy, beautiful cheerleading omegas that played a part in keeping their spirits up just now—to which Jay grimaces and Riki rolls his eyes at. Heeseung snorts.
He forgets that he’s friends with a prude and a loyal, claimed alpha.
“Speaking of omegas,” Heeseung tilts his head at Riki when the chatters break into small groups of conversations among the team, leaving him to talk to two of his closest friends. “It’s a surprise to see you here, Ki. Like seeing a four-leaf clover.”
Jay joins in, his signature lopsided grin on display. “I half-expected you to run home to your girlfriend. It’s hard to see you hang out with us at the club now, pup.”
Riki crosses his arms with a dramatic huff. His bottom lip juts out in a pout. In this light, when Riki shows this side of him, free from fake nonchalance and his cool persona, Heeseung sees him ten years younger than his actual age. Riki is so cute.
“I fully expected to run home to her too, hyung. But she forced me to come here. Said something like I should celebrate my win with y’all,” Riki sighs, messing with his newly-dyed hair and tipping his head back. “So here I am. Drinking with you idiots when I could’ve cuddled with my sweet, sweet omega at home.”
Jay feigns offence while Heeseung laughs. The both of them know too well of Riki’s devotion to his girlfriend. Maybe it’s the alpha-omega bond, or just the fact that they’ve known each other practically their whole lives, but Riki is never at ease whenever she’s not around.
But tonight, the alpha seems more relaxed than usual. He’s not playing with his fingers or toying with the hem of his shirt like he always did when his girlfriend is absent. Heeseung wonders why the sudden change until he catches a glimpse of something at the back of Riki’s neck.
His brows furrow. His movement falters mid-air.
“Riki? Is that…” Heeseung squints his eyes, trying to see better while the tips of Riki’s ears slowly redden. From his right, Heeseung can hear a soft gasp from Jay.
“Holy shit. Is that your mating mark, Ki?”
It is. It is a mating mark, Heeseung realises, when a purple neon light flashes on Riki’s wounded skin. The alpha is rubbing his neck sheepishly now, heat sweeping across his cheeks. Despite his sudden shy demeanour, Heeseung can smell the pride in his sandalwood scent, and in that moment he finally notices the subtle layer of sweet vanilla—Riki’s girlfriend’s scent—in Riki’s pheromones.
“Yeah,” Riki confirms, still red like a tomato. “I mated with her last night.”
“Wow,” Jay breathes out in amazement, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “About time, man! You’re finally mated!”
Jay’s exclamation attracts attention and soon, the whole group is congratulating Riki on the milestone. The said alpha is red down to his neck now, clearly not expecting the sudden shift of focus on him but still relishing in the pride of having his mating mark, if the musky lilt to his pheromones is anything to go by.
Heeseung remains a quiet observer, watching as Riki pulls down the collar of his shirt to proudly show the mark. Two other alphas join him as they speak fondly of their omegas, relishing in their identical mating mark on their napes. Beside him, Jay listens with an adoring smile. There’s a certain longing in his gaze when he stares at the mated alphas that doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung.
Heeseung averts his eyes away, trying to forget that familiar look on Jay’s face. He almost scoffs at the image.
He knows that look like the back of his hand.
Jay, too, yearns for a mate. Like Riki. Unlike Heeseung.
Mate. It’s the word that is so common in omegaverse but so foreign in Heeseung’s little world.
If Jay is a walking green flag that effortlessly attracts omegas with his gentleman charms, Heeseung is a running red flag that chases after willing omegas. If Jay stays away from wild sex life, Heeseung lives by it. If Jay dates to marry, Heeseung fucks to breathe. He’s everything Jay’s not that Riki was so bewildered when the two first met him.
Don’t get him wrong—he’s not the creepy kind of chaser. Rather, he likes to call himself the sexy one. It’s not hard for him to pull; just a few flirty comments here and a couple of filthy whispers there and the next hour he’ll have an omega to bring home and under him.
He doesn’t know if he’s the only one wired this way, but where territorial instincts stream in his alpha blood, his sexual desires run even harder and faster. It’s like an itch that just won’t get away if he doesn’t scratch at it. He’s an attractive alpha with a high sex drive, he admits it, but is he really wrong to accept any omegas with his long, eager arms?
He thinks not.
Plus, they’re omegas. Heeseung tries not to objectify them, but gosh, the scent wafting from them is always so sweet and inviting. They’re curved softly, meant to hold and love the right, physical way that he’s known how to. He’s a weak man, and an even weaker alpha; Heeseung can’t resist a good fuck between two consenting adults and he always, always consents to being sucked off dry and scratched to bleed.
Fuck, just thinking about it is already making him excited.
Heeseung’s eyes wander, tuning out the conversation about mate as he scans for any attractive omega. It’s starting to bore him—the talk about mate and having a mate and being mated—so he’s entertaining himself with the exposed skin and swaying hips of dancing omegas on the dance floor.
For someone like him that gets off on having sex with omegas and being drunk on their sweet pheromones, mating culture is a big no for him. The idea of being tied to only one omega makes him laugh; it sounds ridiculous to him. He’s an alpha capable of giving and his knot is not limited to only one hole, so why should he settle?
Only hopeless-romantic alphas believe in the belief of fated mates. And unfortunately, two of his friends do. Heeseung mentally rolls his eyes.
He decides that he’s had enough when the mated alphas start talking about having pups; another commitment that makes goosebumps rise in his skin. Wordlessly, he places his shot glass on the table, having sipped only half of it throughout the night.
“Leaving already?” Jay asks, craning his neck when Heeseung stands. The latter only cocks his head to the dance floor with a knowing look. The corner of his mouth curves into a playful smirk when Jay makes a face.
“The usual.”
Jay shakes his head. “Whatever. Just don’t do it raw.”
“I’m always clean and safe, Jongseong.” Heeseung retorts, already taking his leave. “Call me when you’re leaving.”
Whatever Jay replies is muffled by the loud bass and Heeseung couldn’t care less to know what the alpha has said. Probably throwing him insults for using him as his personal chauffeur again. Heeseung only shrugs. Jay’s not his concern tonight. He has a bigger fish, or rather, a pretty wolf, to catch.
His eyes sweep across the space. From where he’s standing, his nose can pick up different scents of alphas and omegas. Even the faint scent of betas are visible, usually amplified by alcohol and adrenaline. He’s still deciding between two male omegas throwing asses back on the dance floor and a group of female omegas giggling at a table not far from him when a spiked scent stabs at his senses.
His nose instantly scrunches, frowning as he tries to detect that smell. An omega in distress. It’s faint, coming from the direction of the exit door, but he can’t see anyone crying or visibly uncomfortable in his line of sight.
Heeseung looks around, momentarily distracted from his initial mission. Nobody seems to notice the scent, however, and Heeseung blames his dominant traits for this. He sometimes forgets that he’s a dominant alpha. Unlike Jay and Riki, his senses are more sensitive and developed, which is a blessing when he’s looking for a hookup and a curse when he’s inside the locker room after a game when the air is drenched in his teammates’ pheromones. Heeseung shudders at the memories. He’s always the first to shower and leave the room because only Riki smells good when sweating.
His thoughts are brought back when the scent intensifies. Heeseung keeps sniffing and blindly follows the trail of wilting daisies and burnt honey, his shoulders braced and jaw tense. He doesn’t know why, but the scent has awakened his senses to a new degree. His alpha is on full alert now.
He passes by dancing bodies and tables to get to the exit door but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. Heeseung looks down.
A soft, seductive voice reaches his ears. “Heeseung-ssi?”
Heeseung blinks at the smiling omega. After a second of stunned silence, he finally recognises the logo on her varsity jacket and the makeup on her face. Realisation dawns upon him.
She’s part of his college’s cheerleader squad.
The omega is running a hand up and down his arm now, arching her back to flaunt the soft swell of her chest. Behind her, her fellow cheerleaders watch closely, hiding eager smiles behind their palms. Heeseung looks down at her hand, gulping despite himself.
“Spare me a few minutes, will you, my precious, capable alpha?”
Her voice is so enticing, dripping with the kind of allure Heeseung’s so much familiar with. There is a strong wave of her sweet scent—bubblegum and cotton candy, Heeseung notes—coming from her in full force. She’s fluttering her lashes now, hoping he’ll get the message.
Heeseung does; oh does he get the message so well. He knows what she’s hinting on and on any other nights he’ll succumb to the temptation without putting any efforts to think, melting into a puddle of juices at the slightest touch of seductive omegas. It’s a no-brainer decision for him, usually, because he’s always ready to fuck and he always brings a pack of condom with him for this sole reason.
But tonight his wolf is restless. And the reason is none other than the bitter scent still clinging to his nose.
Heeseung gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and removes her hand from his arm. The omega frowns, brows almost uniting at the center when the alpha takes a step back.
“Next time, yeah?”
Without waiting for her reply, Heeseung slips away from the crowd, ignoring the sour turn of her pheromones. He can feel their eyes boring into his back, but that’s not his concern now. Following the haunting scent and the sudden flaring instincts to get closer to the owner of it, Heeseung lets his legs bring him closer to the exit door.
Heeseung hates to admit it, but right now, his wolf is thrashing at the bitter scent and his chest feels like caving in. He can feel the itch in his nails; his claws are threatening to sharpen. He frowns.
He’s never reacted this way to any omegas in distress. So why now? Why this particular scent?
When he reaches the door, Heeseung doesn’t waste a second to push it open and steps outside. As he does so, a weight suddenly crashes into his chest, pushing him slightly backwards from the force.
“Oof—”
Heeseung reaches up to steady the figure by the arms. At this sudden proximity, the scent is thicker, the wilting daisies are more prominent it's making his heart constrict. Heeseung lets out a deep exhale and looks down to the person practically in his arms.
A female omega. Clearly in distress, judging by the unshed tears and the tremble in her lips. A familiar varsity jacket drapes across her frame and Heeseung feels his breath stop when he recognises that face.
It’s you. One of the cheerleaders. Heeseung knows many cheerleaders, having been in bed with most of them; but even the most forgetful alpha will remember an omega like you.
A sweet face with a sweeter scent to match, but you are always detached from alphas and their advances. You’re the shy cheerleader his teammates always talk about. The untouchable one. The politely-smile-and-then-reject omega. Heeseung remembers you too well, being one of those rejected alphas himself.
He still remembers how disappointed his wolf was, whining and pouting when a pretty omega he had his eyes on rejected him. But Heeseung is a respectful alpha. He’ll take a no as a no. And you were also so kind when doing so that he moved on from it pretty fast and well.
That was one year ago.
Now you’re crying in his arms, for whatever reasons he doesn’t know and is determined to find out. He can feel your hold on his arms tighten, the spike in your scent when you recognise him, and the hitch in your breath that follows. The bitter scent is definitely coming from you.
“H-Heeseung?” Your voice is so small, like you’re not sure if you can call his name. It’s shaky and breathless. “Please help me.”
Behind you, Heeseung can see three shadows entering the alleyway. Even from the distance, his nose immediately picks up the pheromones of aroused alphas; thick and unpleasant. Your scent lingers amidst the stench, wavering in fear, so heavy he can practically taste it on his tongue. Heeseung instinctively pulls you closer.
“Are they bothering you?”
You nod frantically, the tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. When you speak, your voice is wet from tears and fear.
Nothing can ever prepare Heeseung for the words that are about to leave your mouth.
“P-Please…Please scent me.” You sob, clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt tighter. Heeseung’s breath stutters. “Please, Heeseung.”
Scent-mark. A low rumble sounds from his chest.
You’re asking him to mark you. To…claim you. It’s basically you asking him to bond with you, to shower you with his pheromones and make you smell like him. Smell like you’re his.
This is not what Heeseung’s looking forward to tonight. The fantasy of saving an omega in distress and scent-marking belongs to Jay, an alpha that was even willing to help an omega in heat out of the goodness of his heart. But not Heeseung. That’s never Heeseung. Heeseung doesn’t play the hero; he’s the one stealing the female lead from them.
Scent-marking is way…too intimate to share between two complete strangers with no interaction—that is, if you consider being rejected to having sex together as zero interaction.
Heeseung looks between you and the shadows closing in, then licks his lips. “I can’t,” he tries, and the broken look on your face damn near makes his heart take the same fate. Heeseung schools his expression, forcing himself to push you slightly away from him.
“I—This is not right. You don’t want this.”
He can’t take advantage of you. This is just your scared omega speaking. Outside of this situation, he’s damn sure you’d refuse any kind of bonds with him. Heeseung might be a sex addict, but he’s not an asshole.
But you pull him with you, shaking your head as you keep taking a glance at the approaching alphas. “I do! Please,” you choke, failing to keep your voice steady as you plead at the alpha in front of you. Heeseung forces restraint to his instincts. “Please just scent-mark me, Heeseung. I-I can’t—They will—” You heave a deep breath, your scent taking a sourer lilt at his refusal.
“They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.”
Something sharp stabs at his chest, rendering him speechless and frozen for a moment. Heeseung stares at your trembling figure, at your shrinking body as if to make yourself disappear, and it suddenly hits him how disgusting the whole situation is.
They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.
Alphas only take a no when it comes from another alpha.
Heeseung feels nauseous. His throat closes in and there’s a quiet ringing in his ears. In that heavy, stilled silence, everything is muffled to his senses. Only the echoes of your words ripple in his mind.
Unless it’s another alpha.
It’s a hard pill to swallow; one that Heeseung finds it bitter to believe—because it’s so, so easy to walk away from omegas than force yourself on them. It’s so, so easy to shoot your pride down than dwell on it and go feral over a rejection. It’s so, so easy to respect an omega, even for a fuckboy like him, so why is it hard for other alphas to do so?
And the result of this harsh world, of this fucked up power imbalance is sobbing in his arms, shaking and forcing herself to be okay with an unwanted bond just to save herself. Heeseung’s heart breaks for you, for the fate that follows a beautiful being like you just because of secondary genders and because the world says so.
“Please, I-I don’t—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Heeseung whispers, rubbing a soothing circle on your arms. Your crying subsides a fraction. “I’ll scent you if that makes you feel better. Is that…okay?”
You blink at him tearily, streaks of salty tears tainting your unblemished cheeks. Even with a swollen face, you still look as pretty as he remembers.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nods, taking a hold of your wrist when he senses those alphas getting near. “Or we can just get inside and call the cops on them if you change your mind. You can find—”
“No,” you grip him tighter, your previously-calmed scent spiking again. “Cops are useless. T-They won’t—please, Heeseung. You know how they are.”
You know how unfair the system is.
Heeseung swallows hard before he nods, the burnt honey in your pheromones starting to get really thick and sticky. He rubs the inside of your wrists, slow and deliberate, before bringing the scent gland to his nose. It’s the most appropriate point to scent, less intimate than scenting at your neck, which he guesses the last thing you want from him right now.
The tip of his nose caresses the delicate skin tentatively, testing and tasting before he takes a deep inhale. Immediately, the scent of daisies and honey fill up his senses and Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling. There is a rush of energy bursting through his veins, his senses tingling and his wolf purring at the sweet combination of your pheromones. Heeseung feels his wolf hum, almost singing and sighing, like his muscles are unknotting in a hot spring.
It’s strange. It’s new. But Heeseung pushes the thoughts aside.
He runs his nose over your wrist over and over again, blanketing you in his pheromones and starting to feel you relax in his arms.
The tension in your shoulders visibly disappears as you let yourself melt into Heeseung. You sigh. Heeseung’s pheromones are just like him; warm spice of cinnamon carried by cool air of sea breeze. It symbolises his fierce persona on the court and his calm demeanour when he’s out of his jersey perfectly. You lean into him further, your squirming wolf unknowingly calms down when being washed by his pheromones.
If Heeseung notices the change in your demeanour, he doesn’t say anything about it, shoving the thought to the back of his mind. His singular focus is entirely on your pulse, nosing at your wrist and pumping out his calming pheromones. When he opens his eyes, they mirror the look in yours: dazed and slightly glassy. The air is now loaded with daisies and cinnamon, intertwining with each other in a perfect, balanced mix of scent.
Heeseung tries to ignore the loud pounding of his heart, but it’s all he can hear. He tries to ignore the stars in your eyes, but it’s all he can see. He tries to ignore how perfectly balanced the mix of your scent is with his. His grip on your wrist tightens, breath caught in his throat. His wolf refuses to let you go, wanting to keep you here, tucked safely in his embrace for as long as he can.
And that thought is so foreign and scary. He really hopes that’s just his wolf and not him.
“Hey, little bunny.” A sick, twisted voice interrupts.
Oh, right.
Those fucking, disgusting alphas.
Heeseung is always slouching, making him appear shorter than he actually is. But in that moment, he’s standing so tall, dominating the space around him like the air is making room for him itself.
He instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from the hungry eyes of the approaching alphas. His shoulders are braced like they’re ready for an impact and Heeseung has to force a snarl down his throat when his eyes land on the wolves.
When the shadows step under the light, it takes less than a second for Heeseung to see the jerseys clinging to their bodies before he realises who he’s looking at.
They’re the players from the opposing team that his team just beat tonight.
K, EJ, and Nicholas.
Heeseung grinds his jaw so hard he might pop a vessel.
“If it’s not the mighty Lee Heeseung,” K taunts, wearing a smug smirk like a badge at the sight in front of him. He cocks his head, trying to see you over Heeseung’s shoulders. You cower. “Mind sharing your pretty little cheerleader? She’s exactly my type, shy but slutty.”
Shame spreads across your skin and you screw your eyes shut. Shy and slutty, you bite your lips. You’re nothing but a kinky fantasy for alphas like them.
As if sensing your turmoil, Heeseung stands taller, his eyes narrowing thin.
“Get lost.” Heeseung tries to hold back, but the rage he feels seeps through anyway. “And cover your gland, for fuck’s sake. You stink.”
K’s eyebrows shoot up, his grin turning cheshire. “Come on, man. Are you gatekeeping your cheerleaders?” K tries to take a peek at you, but Heeseung moves and covers you with his whole body. His frown deepens. “You had fucked her already. Don’t be greedy, captain.”
His alpha minions laugh, and Heeseung is now seeing red. Something hot spreads in his chest, burning in his vein like wildfire at the insult. Was it a hit to his ego and his shameless sexual routine? Definitely, but Heeseung never takes it to heart. Rather, it’s the way you gasp and sob into his back, shaken by the disgusting assumption of your dignity and your virginity. The storm of the ocean spikes in the air, taking his pheromones to a dangerous peak, gathering a tide to a new height.
Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever released pheromones this bad. But something about seeing the same pattern of omegas falling victim to empty-headed alphas makes his blood boil.
Behind him, you whimper, your omega reacting to the agitated alpha in front of you. But Heeseung is now relentless. He holds out an arm around your waist, protecting you from their sight in a tight, almost-possessive grip.
“Watch your fucking mouth. Don’t you get it?” Heeseung seethes, pupils thinning as the laughter dies down. “She doesn’t want you. In what fucking language must she say no for your stupid brain to understand? She’s—”
Mine. She’s mine, his wolf howls. My omega.
Heeseung grits his teeth.
No, she’s not. Get a fucking grip, Lee Heeseung. You don’t have a mate.
“...not a toy.”
The sea-salt bite of his pheromones thickens in the alley. K scoffs, stepping forward in offense but is stopped by Nicholas. The latter has his arm shot out against K’s chest, preventing him from approaching the couple.
“No, K,” Nicholas murmurs, nose sniffing at the heavy pheromones in the air. Underneath the eye-watering spice of cinnamon and the raging storm of Heeseung’ sea breeze scent, there is a tangled sweetness of daisies and honey clinging to it. He visibly gulps. “They’re together. And Heeseung…”
Nicholas throws him a side eye, giving him a once-over briefly. He takes in the sharp glare directed his way, the downturned curl of his mouth, the tense shoulders ready to pounce. Nicholas shudders imperceptibly and shakes his head.
“…He’s a dominant alpha.”
His statement, though meant to deescalate the situation, only rages Heeseung on further. The alpha takes a menacing step forward, eyes narrowing thin at the trio. They falter back.
“Get this in your empty brains you freaks,” Heeseung grits, fuming beyond reason. Nicholas swears he sees something red flickering in his irises.
“When someone says no, you back the fuck off. Dominant alpha or not. Omega or not.” He spits out the word, the venom in his voice nearly poisons the air. “Do you fucking get it?”
His raging pheromones are turning physical, pressing on each pair of lungs like lead on a mattress. Nicholas fights the urge to cover his nose and pulls his two friends backwards with him.
“We get it. Sorry, captain.”
“Not me,” Heeseung hisses. A low growl rumbles in warning. “Her.”
Nicholas licks his lips and nods. He bows down quickly, forcing the other alphas to bend despite it hurting his pride. K reluctantly follows, though his eyes return the glare Heeseung gives him in a similar intensity.
“We’re sorry, omega. Shit, I don’t know your name, but—we’re sorry.”
In the next moment, the three alphas are already retreating. Nicholas aggressively whispers something among them while K visibly restrains himself from running back to Heeseung. He clearly doesn’t mind taking up a challenge with the dominant alpha and Heeseung finds himself not minding to dirty his hands too.
A beat of heavy silence falls upon you. You stay rooted in place, pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung is still facing away from you, ragged breathing slowing down. The air of dense pheromones is thinning out, leaving behind trails of spicy cinnamon and soft daisies.
You let out a breath and your knees buckle.
Heeseung is by your side in a flash, the same, now-familiar arms caging you against his tall frame. You put your hands on his chest, trying to steady the wobble in your legs.
“Hey, hey. You’re okay now. They’re gone.”
They really are. You cry. They’re actually gone.
An ugly sob racks through your chest and soon, the wilting daisies are back, staining the air with crumpled petals and sad flowers. Heeseung tightens his hold. He doesn’t like seeing people cry, but his alpha apparently despises it the most when he sees you in this state.
His calming pheromones pour out in waves, hands carding through your hair gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”
You’re safe with me.
Your crying slows down. For a few seconds, you let yourself savour the warmth of Heeseung’s embrace. Closer, his pheromones, layered with a faint trail of his body wash, are stronger, filling up the almost-nonexistent space between the two of you. Strangely, the spice and the salt work wonders on calming you down.
Your wolf—previously anxious and distressed—is now quiet.
Heeseung adjusts his hold on you, and in that moment do you only realise in horror how long you’ve been shamelessly hugging him. Like a reflex, you pull away from his embrace, cheeks now flaming red when his shirt is now stained with two big spots of your tears.
“I’m sorry!” Your palms instinctively rub at the stains, as if they can dry out the tears out of the fabric. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
Heeseung looks down, silently watching the small of your palms against his broad chest. There’s a strange flutter that follows, quiet and unfamiliar. He hopes that you can’t feel it through the fabric.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Heeseung murmurs, eyes finding their ways back to your face. Red nose, swollen eyes, blotched cheeks. You really went through it, still sniffling as you still try to fix the stains on his shirt. A small part of him twists uncomfortably.
Heeseung catches your wrists, his thumbs moving almost instinctively against the soft skin.Your breath catches as you lift your gaze to look at him.
“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks, voice soft and gentle. You immediately nod, admittedly feeling better after being bathed in his calming pheromones.
“I’m okay. Just a bit thirsty.”
He searches your face, as if trying to detect any kind of discomfort or distress. But in the end, he ends up staring into your eyes, counting the lashes that guard your beautiful eyes.
It should end there. He really should just escort you back into the safety of your friend group and leave you be. Perhaps, he can go find the previous omega, seduce his way back and bring her home. The normal. The usual.
But something inside stirs in protest to that idea, and so instead he finds himself saying: “Let’s get you something to drink.”
The convenience store is bright under the dark sky, located just two blocks away from the nightclub. It’s already past one in the morning, but to the people of the night, it’s only the beginning of fun. From a distance, the queue line is only getting longer.
Beside you, Heeseung is walking on the edge of the pavement, looking out for cars despite the slow traffic. He’s been quiet since the alleyway, seemingly lost in thought. Occasionally, his hand will brush yours, a quiet graze that sends electricity in your system. You try not to react.
The convenience store is empty, save for a group of partygoers sobering up around the round table outside, leaving only a long bench beside the door empty. You stop when Heeseung does, his hand already tapping on the sensory handle.
“Wait here. I’ll buy you something to drink.”
You nod, obediently sitting down. Heeseung takes one last look at you before he enters the store, the harsh lights greeting his tired eyes. He grabs the coldest mineral water and stops in front of the necessities shelves.
Without thinking, his hand moves like it has a mind of its own, grabbing whatever his eyes land on—a heat pack, chocolate, a pack of wet tissues. It’s only when the cashier scans the items that he pauses, staring at the items with wide eyes.
Since when does he…do this?
“Anything to add, sir?”
Heeseung gulps, looks past the cashier’s head, and lands on the rows of pills behind him.
She cried too much, she might have a headache.
And so, as if on instinct, Heeseung adds paracetamol to his receipt.
Outside, the air is cooler, biting at exposed skin like a bug. Heeseung wordlessly sits beside you, placing the plastic bag on his lap. You curiously peek into the bag.
“That’s a lot. Are you hungry?”
Heeseung pauses, realisation dawns upon him. His instincts flare again. “No. Are you? Do you want ramyeon? Or packed rice? I can—”
“No! It’s fine, Heeseung,” you laugh softly, the sound like a melodious chime of a bell to his ears. “I had dinner.”
Heeseung visibly relaxes and nods. He hands you the bottle first, twisting the cap open before passing it over without a word. He watches you drink, takes the bottle from you, and gives you the heat pack next.
You blink at him. “It’s cold,” Heeseung shrugs, pulling your hand towards him and placing the heat pack on your palm. He closes your fingers over it. “This will warm you up a bit.”
For a second, you just stare at him. The warmth in your hand spreads from your fingers up to your chest, where your heart is thumping wildly at his gentle act.
You bring the heat pack to your neck, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare at him, cheeks blooming red. They put him in a trance, your eyes, as Heeseung finds himself unable to look away. His gaze then drops to your lips when they move, already clinging to every syllable without even knowing it.
“Thank you, Heeseung.”
The flutter comes back, now more frantic and aggressive than before, like a caged bird trying to escape. This time, Heeseung forces himself to look away, the plastic bag wrinkles under his tightening grip.
“Don’t mention it.”
“I mean it, though.” You counter back, gazing at the passing cars as you feel a gust of chilling wind breezing through. You scoot closer to the heat beside you. “It was really scary. Thank you for helping me out.”
There’s a bitter tone, faint and subtle, to your scent, as if you’re recalling the ugly incident that just happened almost half an hour ago. Heeseung clenches his jaw.
Before he can stop it, his pheromones spill out like soft waves, calming and comforting, cocooning you again like a safety blanket. His wolf hums in quiet satisfaction, watching the way your shoulders loosen, the tension melting off you bit by bit.
Heeseung doesn’t know when or how it happened, but there’s no gap between you now. But he doesn’t hate it like he thought he would. Here, you’re so close to him, your shoulder practically glued to his, seeking warmth from his body heat.
It’s a foreign feeling. A comfortable, foreign feeling.
You stay in that position, slowly getting drunk on his pheromones. Your eyes droop, fighting sleep, but the exhaustion from running away from scary alphas has finally caught up to you. Before you know it, your head dips against his shoulder, breath evening out as your fingers lose their grip on the heat pack.
Heeseung swallows. He doesn’t dare move. From the proximity, he can smell your fruity hair wash, blending smoothly with your scent.
It’s so unfair. Every inch of you smells really good, whether it’s your natural scent or the products that you use. It’s like every inch of your skin decides that you only deserve to smell the best, and Heeseung himself can’t help but agree too. It’s so unfair.
Heeseung finds his hands hover awkwardly in the air, hesitating for a second before settling carefully on your head. His fingers thread through your hair, slower this time.
“Don’t feel scared anymore,” he mumbles, gently caressing the dark strands of your hair.
It’s me who should feel scared.
His fingers freeze in your hair.
Scared. He is scared.
This is not him. If Riki or Jay were to walk in to see him in this state, they’d drag him to the nearest police station and demand they find the real Heeseung. The normal Heeseung. The usual Heeseung.
The Heeseung that doesn’t stay, or spend his time watching people breathe in their sleep. The Heeseung who’s out the door before the sheets even cool down. The Heeseung that dislikes small touches like these; like caressing the hair of the girl he just saved, because the only physical touch he brands himself with is sex.
Not this. Not whatever this is.
He wants to move, but his body doesn’t listen—he stays despite himself. His wolf, like it’s found something it’s been looking for all along, settles deeper instead, quiet and satisfied. You nuzzle closer into his body and Heeseung feels his chest tighten.
Something uneasy creeps up his spine.
This should feel suffocating. It should itch under his skin, make him want to pull away, shake you off, leave.
But it doesn’t. It feels easy. Too easy, in fact.
And it scares the shit out of him.
When your senses return to you, the first thing that greets you is someone’s scent.
Warm, spicy cinnamon and calm, salty sea air.
The memory follows not long after; of angry frowns and disgusting smirks that make your skin crawl. Amidst it all, a familiar face flashes in your mind and you feel your heart stutter.
Heeseung.
The pulse in your wrist thuds violently, as if not letting you forget the owner of the pheromones now wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You faintly remember, in your subconscious, being carried to a car and your roommate, Yujin, hugging you in panic. Unconsciously, you pull your blanket closer to your chest.
Did Heeseung send you home? Did he really…scent-mark you to help you?
You bite your lips between your teeth. The clarity is palpable now that the haziness of pheromones and distress are no longer around. There’s no way an alpha—a dominant one, at that—is willing to scent-mark an omega he has no connections to. The implications are more than the action itself. Heeseung surely knows about that, right?
It feels like a dream. It has to be a dream.
What a capable alpha, your wolf preens. Shut up, you hiss.
Then, as if the universe was insistent to prove you wrong, your eyes land on a plastic bag placed neatly on top of your vanity, a damning evidence of last night’s incident.
No way.
Your brain swirls with possibilities and your own made-up theories that it has started to throb faintly. Before you could lose your sanity, thread by unraveling thread, you rush to the bathroom to, hopefully, get rid of his scent, even when your omega begs you not to.
Unfortunately for the human-you, the cinnamon trails after you even post-showers. It clings to your clothes when you change and it doesn’t let you go even as you sit for breakfast prepared by your doting roommate. It’s strange, really. No one’s scent ever clung to you so stubbornly like this, like a chewing gum latching on shoe soles. You always cuddle with Yujin and even her green tea pheromones never stay with you after washing up.
“It’s a bit odd, yes,” Yujin munches through a mouthful of her own signature pancake. “But it’s not totally out-of-this-world. His scent will fade by this evening, I promise.”
You chew painfully slowly, eyes going wide at another possibility. “You don’t think that I conjured some kind of bond with him, right?”
It’s common knowledge that a thin, fragile bond can be easily formed when an alpha and an omega scent each other, mated or not. After all, context and intention are greatly considered, whether it’s meant for familiarity, protection, or possessiveness—each one will determine how long it’ll last.
You pull at the sleeves of your cardigan, a telltale sign of your anxiousness. The same wilting daisies accent of your scent from the night before comes back, signalling your impending distress. Yujin drops her fork and reaches a hand to yours.
“Hey, hey. Calm down for a sec, Y/N.”
“It’s just,” you swallow harshly, your traitorous mind replaying the scene from last night. Your heart thumps at the base of your throat. “I don’t know—fuck. I forced him to do this. And—and despite the circumstances, he still helped me and now…now I think…”
Your eyes turn glassy, reminded of the wolf residing deep inside you.
“I think my omega might like him.”
Yujin is silent for a moment, assessing the right words to say. It’s obvious to everyone on campus of the nature of Lee Heeseung. He’s not exactly the alpha you’d seek for companionship or commitment; he seems to be allergic to those things.
And to get your wolf to like him…well, let’s say that you’re already set for thousand-words of angst and a life of yearning. Yujin isn’t exactly fond of the idea of dishing out what you already knew. You already seem restless enough with your own thoughts.
“Okay. That’s valid.” Yujin starts slowly, treading through every syllable like a mother to her kindergartener son. “He’s super attractive. It’s understandable. But you can, you know—unlike him.”
You perk up at that, though the doubt clouding your face is more prominent now. “How?”
“Find a better alpha,” Yujin shrugs, as if explaining the world’s simplest equation. “For the record, I do think Heeseung’s a good guy, just not in the romantic department. I don’t know why your wolf is picking a fuckboy out of all alphas, but taste is subjective.”
“It’s because he stepped up and protected me!” You deflect and pause, realising how defensive of him you have become. Yujin raises a brow and you sigh, defeated, slumping in your seat.
“Fuck. Now my omega hates you for badmouthing him.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“Just kill me.”
Yujin shoots you a small smile, pushing your now-cold plate closer to you. You reluctantly take a bite. “Why not someone else, though? You could ask literally any other alpha, like—” Yujin pauses and it takes her less than a second to pick a name. “Jay. Like Jay. He’s like, the safest option, the greenest flag. But why Heeseung? And don’t tell me it’s because he was the only one there—you could’ve just barged in and found someone else. It’s a freaking nightclub.”
You freeze, unmoving for a slow second. There is, of course, an answer to that. One that you admittedly avoid to admit, because admitting it will admit that there is something underneath that only you know, and you admit that it’s scary to admit that. Fuck this admission! Yujin wouldn’t make fun of you, right?
“I…” You trail off, second-guessing your decision. Should you really tell your roommate? Seeing the eager look on her face, with her sweet, cute dimples showing up, you decide that people with dimples should be banned from this world. Promptly, you’re reminded of your junior—an alpha with Jungwon or something as his name. The both of them possessed dimples that could make any alpha (or omega) drop down to their knees.
Alas, you force yourself to tell the truth.
“I smelled him for afar.” You watch carefully for Yujin’s reaction. “Like, from outside. While I was running from those scary alphas.”
Yujin contemplates. “Did you feel some kind of a pull towards him?”
You don’t even contemplate. “Yes.”
“Holy shit,” Yujin laughs, her grin turning giddy. “This shit is actually real?!”
“What is?!” You frown, not liking being kept in the dark. A playful punch lands on Yujin’s shoulder, who’s now throwing her head back in laughter. Unconsciously, a pout is formed on your lips.
“What is it? Tell me!”
“It’s just, there’s this joke going around,” Yujin hiccups between every inhale, “that an omega will eventually crave for his knot. I can’t believe it’s happening to you!”
The lines in your forehead deepen. You regard your roommate with a look of contempt, thinking of the best spot to hide a body.
“That’s not true. I don’t crave his knot, or whatever it is.” You sigh, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know what? I’m just gonna pretend last night didn’t happen.”
Resigned and defeated, you rise and bring your plate to the sink. Your class doesn’t start until the next three hours, and then the evening is reserved for your new routine practice for the upcoming tournament. The ninety-two unread messages from the group chat are still left unopened; you haven’t had time to review the routine video yet.
You put on your apron and reach for the cabinet. When in distress or deep thoughts, other than nesting in your bedroom, you often opt to stress-bake instead. The scent of baked goods always puts you at ease, and it blends sweetly with your daisies and honey pheromones. Everyone who knows you knows to empty their stomach and be ready for a mass sweet-feeding whenever you’re in your stressed baker mode.
Behind you, Yujin’s laughter dies in her throat. Then, a question that stops you in your tracks comes.
“Hey, you don’t think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates, right?”
Fated mates. The words settle like a heavy blanket, pressing you down with its weight and keeping you warm altogether.
It’s sacred. It’s ancient. It’s something that you never speak of lightly, afraid that a slip of a tongue would taint the purity of such a bond. Against all odds and critiques on the concept of fated mates, you’re part of the minority who believed in it, no matter how foolish or ridiculous it may sound.
You believe in fated mates. You believe in the name written in the stars, in the love that has been shaped and created just to cherish you. You believe in spending the rest of your life looking for a face that your heart would recognise in a heartbeat, feeling that inevitable pull like you’re each other’s missing half.
But after last night, do you think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates?
Heeseung, who’s always made it clear to everyone about his relationship with commitments?
Heeseung, who never shies away when the boys tease him about the girls he sleeps with?
You’re never one to judge someone’s sex life, but you might be a little too concerned about how they view a long-term, committed relationship. Because that’s what you’ve been looking for.
An alpha who’s not afraid to love you loudly. An alpha whose instincts are to love and protect you.
Sometimes, you really envy mated couples. You envy how loyal Riki is of his girlfriend, craving the same kind of devotion to be directed to you. You envy how proud Taesan is to show off his mating mark, like it’s a badge of honour and love that promises forever.
Eventually, your mind drifts to Heeseung. The captain of the basketball team. Someone who deceives people with how approachable he seems, but is actually the most detached.
Heeseung is a perfect and capable alpha. You’ve seen it.
He leads his team with the kind of leadership that becomes a glue, keeping the team together no matter what challenges they’re going through. You know that he’s from the music department, and there are a few songs with his name being credited as the producer, composer, lyricist—you name it. Heeseung is a dominant alpha and uses his authority well, and he knows how to fend for himself.
You admire him, you really do.
But will he devote himself to you? Will he look only for you in a crowd of beautiful omegas, and beautiful omegas who have spent the night with him? Does he share the same sentiment as you when it comes to fated mates?
The churn in your stomach provides an answer clearer than any of your exams had ever done.
You let Yujin’s question fade in the background, letting yourself lose in your element—baking and baking and baking until it feels like you could feed a whole team of athletes. Which is what Yujin has suggested before she leaves for her lab session, after saving a big jar of cookies for herself.
Fated mates.
What a scary thought.
For the first time in his life, Heeseung is actively avoiding omegas.
It’s not any omegas, though. It’s only you. But since it’s you, it’s actually a pretty big deal to him.
Heeseung doesn’t play favourites. He doesn’t believe in fated mates, remember? But last night left a lasting impact in the form of your scent still clinging to him this morning, even after showering. Not to mention how excited his wolf has been when realising that it’s you.
It’s you, for fuck’s sake! The one who rejected him one year ago, and, admittedly, one of the prettiest omegas on campus. You might as well be every alpha’s ideal type. Well, maybe not Riki, that man is proudly claimed and fiercely loyal to his mate. But it’s definitely the case for him and Jay.
Knowing his best friend, Heeseung’s sure you’re just Jay’s type. And his. No. He didn’t say that. He doesn’t have a type, remember?
As if to make it worse, you also have a scent that might just be his favourite one yet. The same scent that is currently invading his senses, dampening other pheromones in the court despite being on opposite ends from you. The same scent that his wolf decides to pick up and single out the moment he steps foot in the campus, recognising you before his eyes can even see you first. The same scent that still lingers in his lungs, mingling with his cinnamon and sea breeze notes like dancing partners.
Yeah, Heeseung is starting to think that he’s slowly going insane.
“Dude, stop staring. You’re scaring them.”
Heeseung blinks, Jay’s voice successfully snapping him out of whatever omega-spell that you have casted on him. Yeap, he nods. It’s definitely that. You’re actually a witch. There’s no other explanation to this other than that.
A blob of freshly-dyed blonde hair pops up beside Jay. “Hyung showed up smelling like daisies and honey and suddenly he’s staring at the cheerleaders like they owe him money.” Riki teases, then grins when he realises something. “Wait, that kinda rhymes—”
“I’m not staring!” Heeseung almost shouts, belatedly realising that he, indeed, has been staring at the group of cheerleaders stretching across the court. Or, to be more precise, he’s been staring at you. He glares at Riki.
“Okay. So why do you smell like one of them then? What’s her name again, Jay hyung?”
Heeseung grumbles. “It’s no one—”
“Y/N.”
“Yes, that one. The shy one.”
Heeseung groans. He kicks Riki’s shins and makes a show of turning his back facing the cheerleaders. But for some reasons he refuses to admit, as if he has eyes on the back of his head, he still can point where you’re standing just from his senses alone.
These stupid, useless alpha senses.
At least Jay takes pity on him. “Your Heeseung hyung saved her from perverts last night. He scented her to calm her down because she was reacting pretty badly.”
Heeseung mentally thanks Jay and continues warming up. He opts to just watch his teammates dribble and stretch just like him. The faint hum of scent neutraliser—a new, advanced one, thanks to that incident with Riki’s girlfriend—rumbles slowly. Somewhere behind him, he can hear you laugh and taste the sweet spike in your scent on his tongue. Heeseung grits his teeth.
What is wrong with his wolf? Please get your tail together.
Riki, on the other hand, is intrigued. “Really? Did it happen after I left? Who were those alphas?”
“Some idiots from that team we beat last night.”
Riki frowns, clearly displeased with the news he just heard. “Well, I’ll keep my eyes on them. How did Heeseung hyung find her?”
Jay shrugs and shoots him a look. Heeseung really hopes he can slap that annoying smirk off his face one day. “Dunno. Ask him. His alpha probably recognised her from miles away.”
Heeseung doesn’t like what that sentence implies. “Shut up. It’s just instinct. Normal alpha-omega reaction.”
“Keep lying to yourself. I can practically see your tail wagging when you smelled your pheromones on her just now.”
“I didn’t—” Heeseung closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down despite the sudden flare of defensiveness exploding in his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s so reactive and not in his usual calm composure, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with you. Jay and Riki snicker.
“The only people that believe in fated mates are you two idiots. Do you know that?”
“Yeah, I know,” Riki snorts and looks at him, amused. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have a fated mate. That shit is rare. It’s like finding my size in Calvin Klein.”
Jay frowns. “I don’t see the correlation.”
“There is. My dick is just too big, hyung. There’s no size for me—”
“I don’t need to know that!” Jay slaps at Riki’s shoulders while the younger alpha only lets out a full-body laugh. “Save that information for your girlfriend, Riki. I didn’t raise you like this.”
“She already knows that.”
“Nishimura Riki!”
Heeseung is back to zoning out, his energy is suddenly drained out of his soul. That’s usually the case when you have to deal with a Nishimura Riki and a Park Jongseong on a daily basis. His mind, choosing to move at the pace of a snail today, is replaying Riki’s words back like a broken loop.
The realisation hits him five seconds late. “Wait. Did you mean that you and your girlfriend are not…fated mates? I thought you were!”
Riki is trapping Jay in a headlock when he answers. “Nope. We only imprinted on each other from early on because we’re childhood friends.”
“So like…what’s the difference?” Heeseung pauses and hesitates for a moment. He glances at you and then thinks, fuck it. If curiosity didn’t kill the cat then it’ll definitely kill him. “Can you smell your girlfriend in a sea of people?”
Riki scrunches his nose, his hands busy play-fighting with Jay. Heeseung ignores them like it’s a daily occurrence to see them act this way. Which is probably not far from the truth. “Not really? If they’re too many people, like right now, with your stench and too many omega scents—it’s difficult to find her.” Jay tackles his side and Riki yelps. “B-But it’s getting better after the mating bite, though—Jay hyung! I just got my tattoo there!”
“So…you can’t like…” Heeseung licks his lips, his throat suddenly dry. He has a feeling that he’s not going to like the answer Riki’s going to give him once he finishes his sentence. Jay is now on the floor while Riki is pulling him by the legs and dragging him around like a used rug.
“You can’t single her out from her scent alone?”
There. He said it. His two idiotic friends will catch on it and grill him for the problem he partially caused. The other part is, no doubt, his wolf’s fault for deciding to like one single scent. You’re not at fault at all. Never. Wait, who said that?
Riki is breathless from the laughter and play-fight, but he still manages to listen and answer, thanks to his alpha senses. If he finds Heeseung’s questions strange, he only shares his suspicion through a knowing look with Jay.
“Sometimes. Like I said, it’s only when the crowd isn’t too big and when she’s in the same room as me.” Riki finally spares Heeseung a glance, tilting his head in a feigned curiosity. “Why are you asking, hyung? Did you smell Y/N from miles away or something?”
How the fuck did that idiot know?
Heeseung looks away from the teasing grin thrown his way. He really doesn’t like this. “No,” he grumbles. “I’m just afraid if I might be Jay’s fated mate because his pheromones are fucking everywhere.”
“Hey! What the fuck did I do to you?!”
Riki bursts out laughing and high-fives Heeseung with a cheeky smile. On the floor, Jay is already huffing and sulking, mumbling something about ‘always catching strays’ and ‘citrusy pheromones aren’t smelly’. Heeseung sighs quietly when the topic takes a turn into a debate about who has the best smelling pheromones, which is an easy win for Riki, if Heeseung’s going to be honest.
Don’t tell Jay though. Heeseung doesn’t want to lose his passenger princess privilege so soon.
Much to his relief, it’s already time for practice. Heeseung tries to ignore the prickle in his neck coming from your direction as you and your fellow cheerleaders leave the gym to go to your own practice room. He fights the urge to look back, to stride forward and ask you to stay—which is insane, by the way, what the fuck is wrong with him?
Before he slips into his captain mode, however, Jay approaches him with a more serious look on his face. “Calm your flat tits, Hee. It’s normal for her scent to linger; you kinda scented her aggressively to protect her last night.”
Heeseung weakly nods. Jay pats his shoulder. “A deep bond can’t be conjured just from scenting alone, unless you’re fated mates.”
This time, Heeseung doesn’t move, his tension visible in the rigid lines of his posture, the frantic movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
“Yeah,” he croaks, his pulse louder than his own voice. “Hope not.”
Practice goes on for the next two hours. Heeseung eventually falls into routine, finding himself lost in adrenaline and competitiveness. The thoughts of you cease for a moment, replaced by his quick-thinking strategy and sharp reflexes. He keeps dribbling, scoring, and making passes, not even aware of the ticking clock or when the cheerleader squad comes back in to take a break.
The last whistle finally blows before the players dramatically fall in a heap of sweaty, breathless alphas. The practice was particularly grueling, which made his body ache and his shirt clung to his skin. The coach is on fire today, all because his wife has been giving him a silent treatment. Apparently, he forgot to buy diapers on his way home last night.
Source: Nishimura Nosy.
“I think I might die,” Jay huffs, claiming a bench all to himself. His chest rises and falls in a rapid motion. “But even as a ghost, I bet the coach would still unearth my grave to force me to practice.”
“I’ll be Ghost Number Two.” Heeseung deadpans, lying down on the bench next to Jay. The latter continues to talk about something else, which Heeseung would know and remember if he didn’t get distracted by daisies and honey.
Fuck. You’re in the court again.
The urge to corner you, to grab your wrist and ask if you were okay, crawls under his skin again—restless, unrelenting.
Heeseung isn’t stupid. He knows last night, ugly as it was, doesn’t just fade by morning. His alpha has been clawing at him since then, sharp and impatient, demanding he go to you.
But Heeseung doesn’t move.
For once, he’s a coward.
He shoves it down, buries it deep, treating his own wolf like a disease he refuses to catch.
Heeseung blinks at the ceiling in an active effort to not start looking for you and staring at you like a creep. This time, he wonders quietly why your scent smells stronger than before. Perhaps the adrenaline from your routine. But even so, you don’t only smell strong, but you also smell closer—
“Free cookies!”
Heeseung jolts in surprise and whips his head in the direction of that voice. Or, precisely, your voice. His heart, as if trying to shorten his life span, decides not to take a break from the session just now and continues beating even faster.
There, just a few paces away from him, is you, standing in the middle of the court with one of your cheerleader friends. In her hold, there’s a purple Tupperware, its lid nowhere to be found. You stand slightly behind your friend, shyly looking over her shoulders as she talks to his teammates.
“Oh my God, they brought us cookies?!” Jay is already standing up, stretching lazily like a cat. “C’mon, Hee. It’s free cookies.”
Heeseung’s quick to refuse, despite his wolf begging him to go. “Nah—”
But before he can spit out any excuses, Jay is already dragging him, his weeks spent in the gym working out with Riki are finally paying off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Take your portion and give it to me.”
Heeseung groans. He really should start joining their workout session. He can’t be manhandled by his two best friends easily like this.
Distracted, Heeseung fails to register the decreasing distance between you and him. It’s only when your scent spikes sweetly, which hits him in the face like a fucking tidal wave, does he catch your eyes and realises that, fuckfuckfuck she’s here ohmyGod—
“Hi, Jay. Hi, Heeseung.”
Wait hold on, why does his name sound even more beautiful coming from your voice?
He stands like a flag pole beside Jay, actively avoiding your eyes while being fully aware of that pretty pair staring at his face. The floor suddenly looks very interesting, with skid marks from their shoes and some sweat trails. Okay. Ew. That’s gross.
“Hey, pretty ladies.” Jay greets, flashing his attractive smile as he gestures at the container. “Heard there’s free cookies for the taking? Mind if we have some?”
Smooth as ever, Jay doesn’t even realise how easily he has charmed your friend with his simple greeting. Poor omega is already blinking rapidly, almost bouncing on her toes as she practically shoves the Tupperware into Jay’s chest.
“Yes! Yes, of course you can, Jay. There’s only little left! Take them all!”
Your eyes, fixated on Heeseung since he arrived, tries to search his face as you shyly interrupt, whispering into your friend’s ear.
“Offer some to Heeseung too…”
Heeseung doesn’t know whether to curse or thank the Goddess for his advanced dominant-alpha senses, because overhearing those words…it makes his chest feel warm and tight at the same time.
But your friend doesn’t pay you any mind, urging Jay to take the Tupperware from her. Jay, ever the gentleman but still a little shameless shit when it comes to food, takes it from her eager hands. He takes one bite and immediately lights up.
“This is so good! I love that it’s not too sweet.”
Like a mirror reflecting light, you beam widely, returning Jay’s enthusiasm. Heeseung tries to ignore the ugly twist in his chest. “Really? That’s…good to hear.”
“She made these, by the way!” Your friend proudly announces, which makes red blooms across your cheeks, ducking your head down slightly. You’re so shy, so pretty, Heeseung can’t stop staring.
And so good at baking. Such a perfect omega, his wolf continues. Shut the fuck up, Heeseung hisses.
“You’re really good at this, Y/N,” Jay interrupts his internal war, his voice sounding wrong in his ears. “Care to share the recipe?”
Now, is Jay flirting with you? Since when does his voice sound like that?
Heeseung tries to inhale, attempting to calm his fucking irrational wolf down, but all he can smell is the sugary scent of yours, tangling delicately and blending seamlessly with his spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze. Somewhere in his chest, his heartstrings soften, drunk in the perfect mix of your pheromones, a ghost of a mark from last night.
Maybe that’s what possessed him to snatch the Tupperware from Jay.
Heeseung wastes no time and starts munching two cookies at once, ignoring the gasps from you and your friend and the bombastic side-eye from his fellow alpha friend. The flavour of buttery vanilla and sweet chocolate chips melt on his tongue and Heeseung almost purrs at the taste.
Outside, he makes an effort to look calm.
“These are good,” he comments coolly, trying to make it sound more like a statement than a compliment (he’s failing). This time, he dares himself to meet your eyes, and has to force down another purr when he sees the sparkles in your eyes. “Thank you, Y/N.”
There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest when the blush in your cheeks deepen. You quickly look down to the floor, mumbling softly that could’ve been missed had it not been for his senses.
What kind of pull is this? Why is every sense of his attuned to you? Heeseung swears he can smell the subtle spike of your scent, the sound of your heartbeat and your soft breathing. It’s like his whole body has decided that it wants to worship you.
And Heeseung doesn’t worship. Fuck. This is terrifying.
“Thank you, Heeseung…”
There. Your voice again. Heeseung swallows. His grip on the Tupperware tightens. Seeing you under this light, flushed and softly smiling to the ground while sneaking glances at him—it undoes him in ways he never dared imagine.
The question is already at the tip of his tongue without his realisation. ‘Are you okay? Does what happened last night still bother you?’ The urge to comfort and soothe, now growing like a rolling snowball, threatening to spill from his mouth.
And the scary part is: Heeseung isn’t sure if that desire comes from his wolf or himself.
However, he never gets the chance to, because Jay with his perfect, universe-timing is already pulling him backwards. “Thank you for the cookies! We’ll eat them well!”
Heeseung reluctantly nods, the grip he has on the Tupperware turning knuckle-white.
“What the fuck was that?” Jay whisper-yells when they’re out of earshot, walking back to their previous spot. “And those are not only for you. Give them back to me!”
Heeseung dodges his grabby hand. “Why the fuck are you eating more?” He asks, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice.
“Didn’t they give all ten of them to us?”
“You’ve had two.”
“And you’ve had five!”
“I don’t care. These are mine.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
That’s what it takes for Heeseung to freeze in his tracks. Seeing an opening, Jay quickly snatches the Tupperware from his grasp and runs back to his spot on the bench, not forgetting to flip off the burgundy-haired alpha as he does so.
Heeseung is losing his fucking mind.
Sighing, Heeseung closes his eyes, a faint trail of daisies and honey still clinging to his senses. Even across the room, among the murmur of the gossiping cheerleaders, it’s your voice, the only one clear and crisp to his ears.
I’m being ridiculous.
This isn’t me.
Slowly, his human side starts taking over, all flowery images of you vanish within seconds.
Fuck, he curses. He wishes this scent-marking will be gone by tomorrow morning.
Three mornings later, much to his dismay, your scent still clings to him. On the bright side, it has been notably fading, now only the remnants of daisies and honey underneath cinnamon and sea air; like crunched petals along the shoreline, waiting to be washed away.
Against his own judgment, however, his wolf is fucking devastated.
He’s been whining like a kicked puppy ever since he walked to practice this morning and couldn’t smell his scent on you instantly. He still can spot you from two buildings away, which is still strange, but the lack of spice and salt in your scent is what does it. Heeseung has to fight the urge to march towards you and start scenting you.
His wolf has been restless. And, inevitably, it puts Heeseung in a terrible mood, too. He never knew his wolf was that desperate.
Practice ends late that night. With the tournament just around the corner, everyone is being a little shit at managing their emotions and competitiveness on the court—the downside of having an all-alpha team that people rarely talk about.
Heeseung is not excluded from the equation, though. He almost threw the ball to Taesan’s knot and made his omega pups-less and pregnancy-free when he accidentally made a bad pass. The court had smelled like tension and a barely held-together brotherhood when he left before a cheerleader came up to him to flirt and he wasted no time to drag her to an empty classroom.
Now, Heeseung finds himself making out with that omega, tongue licking up into her mouth while she breathlessly moans into his. It’s been five days since his last fuck, and while he usually can go on without sex for weeks (one month was his best record), he’s been at his wit’s end today. Add the confusion and silent wars he’s been having about you into the mix, and Heeseung is nothing more than a stressed body waiting to be relieved.
Weirdly enough, the frustration he hopes to get rid of stays as frustration. The old sparks he usually feels when having this intimate moment with an omega seems to disappear tonight. In the back of his mind, like a looming cloud carrying a storm, is a hazy image of teary eyes and red, trembling lips.
Something stirs uneasily in his chest.
His huge, veiny hands slip under her skirt and find purchase on her cunt, gathering the slick leaking from her arousal. Her scent spikes as she bucks up her hips and, to Heeseung’s own surprise, he recoils from the smell of it and breaks the kiss. The girl doesn’t stop her advances, switching to kiss down his long neck instead.
He subconsciously scrunches up his nose, his finger halting its movement for a second.
“What perfume are you wearing?” He asks, voice hoarse from the makeout session. He tilts his head back, allowing access and finding stimulation, but the usual thrill is a bit dull tonight.
“My pheromones,” she manages between kisses, “you like it?”
It’s quite the opposite, to be honest. Heeseung finds himself hating it. It’s too sweet. Too sharp. It sits wrong in his nose, burns at the back of his throat, like inhaling smoke for the first time. His eyes water.
There’s something wrong. He’s not enjoying this.
And to make things worse and more confusing, his chest hurts. It constricts, like his lungs decide to shrink into a ball of unexplained pain. Heeseung’s breath stutters, almost doubling over. His mind is a frantic buzz of noise, chanting something that he can’t seem to fully register yet.
Not my omega. Not daisies. Not honey.
Heeseung feels something twist in his gut.
The nameless omega—he forgot to ask for her name—doesn’t notice the shift yet, the way Heeseung is already a frozen statue of confusion and frustration in her embrace. She continues, trailing down hot, wet kisses along the prominent line of his collarbone and sucks the tender skin.
“Ow!” Heeseung yelps, instinctively pushing her away. The spot stings like a pulsing heartbeat, void of any pleasure that it usually would give. He staggers backwards once.
The girl frowns, clearly not happy being pushed like that. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”
“I—” Heeseung hisses, his shirt sitting wrong on his skin, her scent smelling wrong in his nose. He shakes his head. “Shit. I’m sorry, I—I have somewhere to be.”
The girl scoffs, disbelieving. “What?! Heeseung, you can’t just—”
But Heeseung can, and he already does. The alpha is out of the room in the next minute, deliberately the calls of his name and the strings of insults that come from behind him. He makes a run for it.
What the fuck did just happen? Heeseung is never one to refuse a good time with omega, but his wolf is quiet tonight. Too quiet, like it’s being silent on purpose in solidarity for something he’s yet to know—or yet to realise.
The hazy image comes back to his mind, slowly becoming sharp and clear. Heeseung thinks his lungs have turned into bricks when he realises that he’s been imagining you. That his head has been loud with the thoughts of you, even when he’s with someone else.
Why? Why is this happening? Why you?
Heeseung makes a turn to where the locker room is, planning to grab his duffel and leave, when he bumps into Riki and Jay, freshly out of the shower.
“Heeseung hyung?” A shirtless Riki calls his name, then raises a brow when he sees his condition. “Was wondering where you were. But those lipstick stains told me enough.”
Heeseung wipes his neck harshly. Wordlessly, he yanks his locker open and checks himself out in a mirror. He turns his face left and right, yanking down his under eyes, then sighs. Riki and Jay exchange looks. The air is slowly thickening with the pheromones of a distressed alpha, coming from none other than Heeseung.
“You good, mate?” Jay decides to ask him. Heeseung doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he’s as good as he wants himself to be. The alpha lets out another sigh and slams the door closed.
“I think something is definitely wrong with me.”
“Is it practice?” Jay softens his voice, already switching on his therapist-friend mode. “Hee, today’s just that day. Everybody was losing their shits, it’s not just you.”
Heeseung leans his back on the locker and tilts his head upwards. “It’s not that. I mean it biologically. Ever since—” Heeseung pauses, suddenly unsure if saying out loud would make things right. But Riki and Jay have already caught onto it.
“Ever since what?”
Heeseung chooses to deflect. “Look, I was trying to make out with this one pretty omega just now. But no matter how much kissing we did, I just couldn’t enjoy it.” Heeseung points to his sweatpants. Riki and Jay curiously follow with their eyes. “She was practically sucking my tongue and I’m not even bricked up, man!”
Riki furrows his eyebrows. “Not even a spark?”
Heeseung shakes his head. “I couldn’t feel anything. At all. Only,” he swallows harshly. “I only felt disgusted. By her.”
Silence hangs in the room at his revelation. Riki’s expression morphs into something akin to genuine surprise, while Jay only stares at him with a gaping mouth before he starts typing on his phone.
“This is dead serious. You can’t have sex without your dick. That's like a banana cake without bananas.”
Heeseung and Riki grimace. “Please don’t ever compare my dick to a banana again.”
“Or a banana cake.” Riki slaps his shoulder. “That’s my favourite, hyung. Don’t be gross.”
Jay waves a dismissive hand, eyes still glued on his phone. “Right, right. Anyway, I texted Sunoo.”
Heeseung’s eyes go wide like saucer plates at the name and groans. “Sunoo?! Jay, you know he’s still mad at me.”
“I know, but he’s the only one who probably knows the answer to this.” Jay smacks his lips when he reads a new text from Sunoo. “He’s staying back for a lab session. Let’s go to the medicine building.”
And that’s how Heeseung finds himself cramped into a tiny booth of a ramyeon stall, located by the road near the faculty of medicine. A pouty Sunoo is sitting across from him, shooting him his foxy side-eyes as he whines at Jay.
“Jay hyung, why did you bring this traitor with you?” Sunoo pulls at the sleeves of Jay’s hoodie, sulking away from Heeseung. It’s only the three of them since Riki had gone home with his girlfriend just now. “I thought the three of us would include you, me, and Riki.”
Jay sighs exasperatedly. “I had to, Sunoo. That traitor is having a critical dick malfunction and he needs your help.”
The waitress arrives with three bowls of steaming ramyeon. Jay and Sunoo pause their not-so-quiet argument and help her place the bowls on their table. She clears her throat awkwardly, and takes a quick glance at Heeseung before leaving. Heeseung groans internally.
Great. Now words about him and his dick problem will spread around the campus.
“Is STD finally catching up with you?”
Heeseung should know that it was never that easy to get Sunoo off his back. That boy is a professional pouty sulk-er, he’ll never let Heeseung go easily. Not after harassing him with his sass, at least. Heeseung holds back a sigh, already resigned and defeated.
With a grim voice, he apologises to the brown-haired alpha. For the fifth time.
“Sunoo, I am so sorry. I know it was my fault, but for the record, I didn’t know you were serious about pretending to be an omega. Why would you even do that, anyway?”
“Because I like the attention!” Sunoo is fast to defend himself, his pout only deepening. “And because alphas will only spoil me if I was their pretty little soft omega—which I am not! And you exposing my secondary gender to that alpha just ruined my chance to be with him. Who would even call their friend, ‘my cutie little fake omega’, anyway?!”
“I was drunk!”
“A drunk traitor is still a traitor!”
Heeseung turns to Jay, sending him signals to help him out. But his best friend deliberately ignores him, too engrossed in his own bowl, pretending to be a wall. Heeseung rolls his eyes and looks back at Sunoo.
It might not be that easy to console the sulky boy, but Heeseung is labelled a sweet talker for a reason.
“You’re already a pretty alpha, Sunoo. Prettier than any omega I know. Anyone would drop everything for you even if they knew you weren’t an omega.”
Like a switch being flipped, the frown on Sunoo’s melts away, replaced by a beam so wide it shows off his perfect teeth.
“Aw, Heeseungie hyung. You’re now forgiven. Now tell me about this dick problem of yours.”
Jay and Heeseung look at each other and relax into their chairs in relief. Heeseung sends him a look of, ‘That was easy,’ to which Jay raises his eyebrow, ‘Why hadn’t you done it sooner?’
Now, with Sunoo not threatening to kill the burgundy-haired alpha anymore, Heeseung can finally enjoy a few bites of his untouched ramyeon. It’s already a bit cold and soggy, but the broth makes up for it. He retells the story to Sunoo between bites, watching the ever expressive boy react to it with various expressions.
“It’s not uncommon, though. But since it’s you, it must have felt very concerning.” Sunoo hums in thought, tapping his full lips with the thinnest tips of his chopsticks. “Well, Heeseungie hyung, did you imprint on any omegas?”
Heeseung hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head, feeling Jay’s eyes on him.
“No.”
“Hm, okay. Even if it’s due to imprints, it has to come from both sides,” Sunoo rubs his chin, now looking every bit a live action of Detective Conan, minus the glasses. “Did you conjure a bond with anyone? Maybe accidentally?”
Heeseung’s lips part. “I…would’ve known, right?”
“Right.” Sunoo nods firmly, then tilts his head. “Did you scent one of your hookups, then?”
“An almost-hookup,” Jay cuts in, clearly enjoying this interrogation. Heeseung shoots him a look. Jay is always out to rat him out and he’s actually so close to disowning him.
He grunts. “Just…someone.”
Sunoo smiles in amusement. “So you did scent someone. Was it someone you like?”
“Define like.”
“Like them enough to want to kiss them. Like them enough to want to fuck them. Like them enough to even want to scent them to begin with.” Sunoo shrugs. “Pick one.”
Heeseung closes his eyes. Does he like you? Wanting to kiss and fuck someone don’t equal to liking them. Because if that was true, then there’s no other explanation to Heeseung ‘liking’ every omega he has fucked other than him having an insanely big heart—which he doesn’t. He liked the sex and their company; that was all there was to it.
Which leaves him option number three.
Heeseung’s never the guy to sit with his feelings—at least not the romantic kind. You’re an unfamiliar territory; something that he deliberately avoids his entire life, simply because he never sees settling down with a mate as a desirable goal or accomplishment. And, perfectly hidden under his fuckboy persona is also a thin layer of fear.
Fear of getting hurt by the thing that’s supposed to be love.
But does he like you?
Maybe he does. He’s always liked the way you laugh; you always cover your mouth with one hand when you do, like your smile is only visible in the privacy of those who really know you. He’s always noticed the way you touch the tip of your nose when people’s eyes are on you. He’s always thought the natural blush that you have when you’re shy is adorable.
In that one single minute, Heeseung realises that he’s been paying attention to you more than he thought he did.
Fuck. He does like you.
But does liking have to lead to being mated?
That responsibility is way taller and heavier than him and Heeseung is beyond freaked out.
“Earth to Heeseungie hyung?”
“Why does it even matter? What does it even have to do with me not getting a boner during a makeout session?” Heeseung demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. Is Sunoo punishing him for being the reason he fumbled that tall, hot alpha two weeks ago? Will Sunoo truly ever forgive him? He already apologised five times!
Sunoo, seeing enough of his hyung’s suffering, finally relents. “Geez, relax. I wasn’t playing with you. I asked because most of the time this happens,” he gestures at Heeseung and his crotch. Heeseung instinctively closes his long legs. “It’s because the wolf has already liked one omega. An omega they recognise as their mate. It’s the only explanation why you felt disgusted just now.”
Mate. That cursed word again. Beside Sunoo, Jay is whistling.
“Sorry. You mean my wolf, my alpha, likes one omega and decides I shouldn’t fuck around anymore?”
Sunoo nods. “Basically, yeah. But it usually isn’t that easy, hyung. A bond has to have been conjured between your wolf and their wolf by any kind of markings.”
“Like?”
“Like biting. Or scenting.”
Scenting. Heeseung didn’t just do scenting with you, he was scent-marking you.
“But that’s impossible,” Jay interrupts, confusion etching onto his handsome features. His leaning forward now, his empty bowl pushed to the center of the table, which reminds Heeseung of his own bowl. The alpha quickly finishes his noodles. “Scenting between unmated alpha and unmated omega will only conjure a temporary, fragile bond. It should’ve been gone by now—the scenting happened five days ago.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I can detect some floral scent in Heeseungie hyung’s pheromones.”
Heeseung almost chokes on his noodles. “You do?”
Sunoo leans forward, squinting his eyes at him like he’s some kind of lab specimen. “Yeah. It’s faint, but it’s there. Sweet. Floral. Clingy.” He tilts his head again. “It’s weird.”
Across from him, Heeseung is frozen. His grip on the chopsticks tightens. He swallows harshly.
Jay leans back, arms crossed. “But if it’s still there after five days—”
“It doesn’t automatically mean fated mates,” Sunoo cuts in quickly, tone sharper this time. He shoots Jay a look before turning back to Heeseung. “Don’t jump to that conclusion. That’s, like, extremely rare. And also very dramatic.”
Heeseung exhales, shoulders dropping just a little.
Right. Dramatic. His alpha begs to differ.
“It could just be a stronger-than-usual temporary bond,” Sunoo continues, more thoughtful now. “Maybe your alpha overdid it when you scented them. Or the omega was in a heightened emotional state, so the bond lasted longer.”
Jay hums, not entirely convinced.
“But the whole not getting turned on thing?” He gestures vaguely. “That still doesn’t explain it fully.”
Sunoo taps his chin again. “Mhm. That part’s interesting.” He levels Heeseung with a curious look. “Who is this girl, anyway? You seem pretty fucked over her.”
Heeseung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you not say it like that? Like I’m some kind of a broken alpha?”
“You kinda are right now,” Sunoo says bluntly.
“Sunoo.”
“I’m serious!” He leans forward again, eyes lighting up. “Your body is rejecting other omegas. That’s not normal for you. Like, at all.”
Heeseung slumps deeper into his seat. As if it’s not already obvious enough, Sunoo just had to spell it out loud.
“I noticed,” he mutters, defeated.
Sunoo softens slightly at that, sighing as he rests his chin on his palm. “Okay. Look. Don’t panic yet.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You’re literally here because your dick stopped working.”
“…Okay, I’m a little panicked.”
Sunoo waves his chopsticks dismissively. “It’s probably not fated mates. If it were, you’d be way worse right now.”
Heeseung stills. “Worse?”
“Yeah,” Sunoo shrugs. “You’d be obsessing. Unable to stay away. Your senses would go crazy. You’d feel everything they feel, more or less.”
Jay slowly turns to look at Heeseung. Heeseung immediately avoids his gaze. That fucker is always eager to catch his ‘Gotcha!’ moment, it irritates him to the core.
“That doesn’t sound like me,” he says a bit too quickly, the lie tasting acidic on his tongue.
Sunoo mustn't know about the knot of uneasiness in his chest. Sunoo mustn’t know about the face that comes to his mind when he’s kissing someone else. None of his friends must know that he’s obsessing right now, itching to flee and find you in the middle of the night.
“Exactly,” Sunoo nods, unaware of his friend’s turmoil. “So relax. I’ll look into it more, yeah? Might be some weird hormonal response or delayed imprint reaction.”
Heeseung lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, okay.”
“Or you can do a try-and-error,” Sunoo suggests, reaching over to pat Heeseung’s shoulder. “Just do what you always do—try hooking up with different omegas. Maybe the one you made out with tonight was just a bad compatibility for you.”
Heeseung perks up at that. Sunoo and Jay, not noticing the shift in the air, are already moving forward with a different topic, completely oblivious to the newly-lit determination now burning up his body.
Just do what you always do.
Right. Heeseung has a high body count for a reason. He decides, with a final resolution, that he should solve this his own way.
If Heeseung spends every night for the next two weeks trying to bed different omegas, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.
If Heeseung fails each time, unable to enjoy every kiss and friction, Sunoo and Jay don't have to know.
If the pain in his chest worsens every time he leaves the barely-warm beds, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.
If Heeseung avoids looking at you, avoids bumping into you, avoids speaking to you—he hopes you don’t know about it.
A quiet voice from his wolf whispers something that he refuses to acknowledge: He hopes you’ll forgive him for being unfaithful.
You’ve been sick for two weeks.
At first it was subtle, like a faint throb in your heart that makes you stop whatever you’re doing. The first time it happened, you were in the middle of a group discussion for an elective subject.
A quiet alpha, or a wolf hybrid named Sunghoon, to be exact, had noticed the way you winced from the pain. He didn’t say anything, but you guessed he told an omega about what he saw because right before you exited the library, one of the girls had passed you a free menstrual pad.
He thought you were experiencing period cramps. You wished it was just period cramps.
Then, it gradually grew to something worse. A sudden stabbing pain in your chest. A twist in your gut, like you were expecting something bad to happen. Sometimes it was random palpitations, where your heart was skipping huge beats, as if you were about to go down on a roller coaster.
Each time it happened, you only placed your palm over your heart, hoping it’d go away. You never understood why, but those pains only came at night, preventing you from getting any good sleep and rest. And each time you tried to close your eyes, there was only one face flashing behind your eyelids.
Heeseung.
Yujin had dragged you to the clinic, but the doctor came to a conclusion that you were just having pre-heat symptoms—which couldn’t be further from the truth, because you just had your cycle one month ago. You’re not supposed to go on your quarterly-cycle of torture for another two months.
“Oh my Goddess, you’re burning up.” Yujin’s palm is cold against your forehead. Her face is pulled into a tight expression. “Let’s just skip today’s classes, okay? I’ll stay with you.”
You weakly nod, barely registering Yujin’s movement around the room. Your body feels like a furnace, the heat simmering in your veins almost rivaling a volcano’s lava. You discard the blanket to get some sort of relief, only to shiver in the cold when the air touches your skin.
After a few minutes of exiting and entering your room, Yujin finally sits by your bed. She helps you with a glass of water and a dosage of paracetamol, careful to wipe any loose drops like a concerned mother. It doesn’t get better, but at least your throat doesn’t feel like it’s being scrubbed with sandpaper anymore.
“How’re you feeling now?”
“Dying, but a bit less dramatic.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to give Suho from True Beauty a run for his money, would we?”
You chuckle softly, though it sounds more like a seal with a sore throat.
“But seriously, though. It’s been two weeks.” Yujin purses her lips, the worriness still marring her beautiful face. “I’m so worried, Y/N. What’s happening to you?”
You don’t answer right away. “It’s my omega.”
Yujin’s eyebrow jumps. “What about her?”
You also wonder the same thing. Swallowing, you finally let your friend in on the torturous days you have been going through. “One night, after our practice ran quite late two weeks ago, she went a bit hysteric. I couldn’t stop vomiting.” You recalled, eyes distant in memory. “She kept yelling something about a traitor, about rejection. I don’t know, really. But that’s how it started.”
“Two weeks ago, at night, you say?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Yujin is quiet for a few extended minutes, caressing her thumb over your knuckles. The motion puts you at ease, and slowly, you feel the pills begin working their chemicals.
“Did you, perhaps, hear about anything that happened that night?” You shake your head, unsure if your cheerleader squad had mentioned anything. Yujin hums. “Because I think I did.”
“What?”
“So I’m friends with this one omega named Sunoo from my faculty. A pretty boy and a petty gossiper.” Yujin starts, now treading her words slowly as if walking on eggshells. “He knows everyone on this campus. Especially the hot stuff, you know—student body, athletes, cheerleaders.” Yujin eyes you but not unkindly. “He knows you too. Just the basic stuff.”
“Like?”
“Your name, your major, your Instagram account.”
You let out a breath, a bit unsure where this is heading, but listen anyway. “Okay.”
“And because of his impeccable knowledge of gossip, I heard from him about a cheerleader breaking down in the group chat after a certain alpha left her mid-making out, all slicked and horny while he didn’t even pop a borner.”
You hold onto her every word, but for some reason, a dread has settled deep in your bones, like your body is already anticipating some bad news. Your heart, previously beating fast, is now sprinting like it might escape your rib now.
“And that alpha was Heeseung.”
It hits before you can even think.
A sharp, twisting pain lances through your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs like you’ve been struck. Your fingers curl into the sheets, clutching at nothing.
Your omega whines—hurt, betrayed. And suddenly, you understand why. The cries about betrayal. His face haunts you every night, like a painful reminder of the destiny you're subjected to.
You try to swallow once, then twice, before you find your voice back.
“Heeseung?” You try. His name now tastes bitter on your tongue.
Yujin, ever the empathetic, senses it, and tightens her hold on your hand. “Yeah,” she nods. She lets a moment of quiet pass, fidgeting and swallowing like you. Like the news has more stories that she’s yet to tell; an extended part to a nightmare that’s been keeping you up at night. You brace yourself.
“And two nights ago I saw him at Jake’s frat party with a girl. Doing sexy stuff. The usual.” Yujin can’t look at your face, choosing to stare at your intertwined hands instead. “The frat boys told me that he’s been at it almost every night. For two weeks.”
Is it possible to hurt someone this much in a span of five minutes? Getting shot multiple times would’ve hurt less than this.
There’s a heavy silence, then there’s your small, quiet voice, laced with unfiltered hurt.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“I’m saying, Y/N, that you might be facing bond rejection symptoms right now.” Yujin licks her lips. “I’m saying that you and Heeseung just might be fated mates. That night he scented you? You guys conjured a half-bond. And him fucking around with other omegas like this hurts your wolf because she knows—only this kind of bond can do that.”
Is having a fated mate supposed to hurt like this? Like your chest is caving in, collapsing under the torment of unwanted love. Can you even call it love? Whatever it is that you and Heeseung unknowingly have been sharing—Is it even love?
It’s not. It’s just…fate.
You shake your head. There’s hot pain behind your eyes, a sign of an impending doom. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.”
A drop of tears rolls down your face and in the next blink, everything is already blurry. “I—I think I already knew it.” Your voice is wet from despair, the pain almost feels tangible. “He never meets my eyes anymore and—and every time I see him, I feel like I might die.”
A warm pair of arms pulls you close, and instantly the scent of green tea fills up your senses. Your roommate holds you tight, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as you sob into her chest.
Your wolf, the contradict that she is, hopes that it was Heeseung embracing you. Still hoping it was the alpha comforting you, soothing you with his voice and that calming pheromones of his. Still foolishly longing for him despite everything.
You feel pathetic.
Your crying subsides after a while, still curling up against Yujin like a hurt puppy. You’re already losing track of time, if it’s still proper to have breakfast or if it’s already time for lunch. It is Yujin who finally speaks first.
“Do you hate it?”
You let the question linger in the air, turning it over in your thoughts like what you’ve been doing the past hour since you woke up. “I don’t hate the bond. Nor him.”
You pause, gnawing at your lower lip. Then you exhale.
“I just hate that I was never given a chance to do this properly.”
Yujin pulls away and makes you face her. She wipes your tears using her sleeves, murmuring sweet words as you feel your chest slightly loosening at her kind gesture. “You might still have it. Go and talk to him, Y/N. If he’s avoiding you like this, he might’ve felt something too, right?”
“If he’s avoiding me like this, he might just not want anything to do with me.” A humourless chuckle escapes your lips. “And to think that I thought I had a chance.”
“Wait, I never asked you this. Do you like Heeseung? Both of you; your wolf and you.”
You don’t answer right away. The question sits between the two of you, heavy and fragile; like a mark refusing to be looked over.
Do you like Heeseung?
Your wolf stirs immediately. Yes, I like him.
The answer is quick. Certain. Definite.
But you purse your lips, forcing yourself to think harder, deeper. Forcing yourself to think about you, not her. You can only come to one conclusion.
“I don’t know,” you whisper, honest. It sounds weak even to your ears. Beside you, Yujin keeps rubbing small, grounding circles over your hand.
“I already know my omega likes him,” you admit softly. “She decided that the moment he stayed and took care of me that night.”
Oh, how pathetic is it to fall for someone for doing something as mundane as staying and taking care of you?
It’s laughable. But it makes your chest ache even more, like your heart was an empty can and fate was crushing it with its tight grip.
“But me…” you continue, voice quieter now, “I don’t even know him like that.”
You shake your head, frustration flickering through your expression.
“I don’t know what he’s like when he’s not surrounded by people, or when he’s not—” you gesture vaguely, like you can scoop up every rumour tied to his name. “That version of him everyone talks about.”
You stare at your hands. “But I wanted to.”
Yujin follows, voice soft. “Wanted to?”
“I wanted to get to know him,” you continue, voice trembling. “When I first found out how my wolf feels for him, I thought it could be like how I’ve always imagined having a fated mate would be: slowly falling in love with them. With him.”
A wistful smile graces your beautiful features, soft and vulnerable. “I wanted to know which game he remembers the most. I wanted to know if the number on his jersey means anything. Silly things like that. Not this.”
Your hand moves to your chest unconsciously, rubbing the surface softly.
“Not like this. Not when it hurts every time I—” you cut yourself off, breath shaking. “Not when it hurts every time I look at him.”
You still remember, after one grueling routine, when the pain was still kind enough to let you come to practice. The players had just finished their practice too, slicked with sweat and looking exhausted as ever. Among the tired alphas, your eyes locked onto Heeseung’s.
You had the instincts to go to him and pass him the cold mineral you’d unknowingly saved for him. But the look in his eyes—it was unreadable. Cold. An abyss that was enough to make you stay rooted in your place.
Then, without even a graze of a smile, he looked away, taking a bottle from Riki’s hand.
It had hurt more than you’d like to admit.
“I think…” you try again, more carefully this time. “If things were different, I would’ve liked him.”
Your throat tightens. This time, you’re reminded of that night before everything turned cruel like this. The warmth of his embrace that lingered. The spice of his scent that clung. The safety of his company that comforted you.
Was any of it real?
“And if things were the same…I think I would've still liked him anyway.”
That’s the truth. A quiet, terrifying truth that settles deep in your chest like an unshakeable ground. The kind of truth that makes even your most grounding friend sit still in your bed.
“And that’s what makes it worse,” you whisper.
Because now it’s not just your omega.
It’s you, too.
The one-week intervarsity basketball tournament has finally begun. Around seven universities have sent their representatives, leading to a flood of humans in different-coloured jerseys wandering around on your campus, its official host.
You’re excused from the whole week’s classes, seeing your cheerleaders and bunches of alphas more than you have ever seen your classmates since the tournament started. It was exciting at first, to participate in such a prestigious tournament that is always the talk of town. But the tight schedules between games is becoming more taxing and demanding.
It doesn’t help that the bond rejection symptoms have only gotten worse, hindering you from giving your best potential at each routine. Which, of course, catches the attention of your captain, and she’s not very amused with it.
“Y/N. If you’re not telling me what is wrong with you, then don’t make me find excuses to put you on the bleachers.” Narin once whispered to you on the third day of the tournament. You merely nodded, trying hard not to scrunch your noise at the sour smell of bubblegum and burnt cotton candy. She eyed you up and down, before she scoffed.
“Don’t get too butt-hurt that Heeseung’s fucking other cheerleaders,” she grunted. You froze. “At least you got your round that night. He fucking rejected me.”
What? The confusion must be clear on your face, because then Narin rolled her eyes, fixing the blue ribbon in her hair before she turned to face you.
“You smelled like him for weeks, Y/N. Don’t think people didn’t know that you two fucked after they won against that eastern university that night.” And then she left, leaving a dumbfounded you in the hallway, standing still like a lifeless statue.
Realisation starts settling in. Did people think you and Heeseung—fuck. You should’ve known.
No wonder many eyes were on you during those days when you still smelled like Heeseung. You thought it was just because Heeseung was one of the most sought after alphas on campus. Not this. Not whatever allegation this is.
Still, the bomb Narin had dropped wasn’t enough to stop yourself from pushing yourself past your limits. You don’t even know what your limits are anymore. They seem to keep expanding with every new pain that blooms in your chest.
You’re still a bit sluggish, but at least Narin is off your back. Whatever bitterness she harbours for you, though not forgotten, is at least tamed on the last day of the tournament.
You knew she wouldn’t understand, but you couldn’t help it if the pain worsens. You wish, for once, that Heeseung would take it slow with the cheerleaders from the opposing teams. Because the pain has become unbearable; cracks turning into holes of emptiness in your heart, faint pulsing turning into straight-up invisible stabbing in your gut. You’re actually surprised that you’re not already bleeding from how real it has felt.
However, deep down, there’s a small, barely-there gratitude for Heeseung for not doing it in front of you. At least you can spare yourself from whatever possible torment this fate has destined for you to face if you had to watch Heeseung fucking another omega in the empty locker room.
But you guess it’s time you finally, actually reach your limit, and your body can’t seem to be more dramatic to choose the last game as its last straw. As Heeseung hoops in the last score for the team, sealing their title as the champion, the audience erupts into the loudest cheer you’ve ever heard. You quickly get to your feet to perform the celebratory routine, but the world is spinning and your head is light when you stand up. You stagger backwards.
“Oh my Goddess, are you alright?” One of your cheerleader friends catches you in her arms, shaking you out of your pained daze.
“I…” you cough, your voice only scratching at your throat. “I just need to. Sit. Yeah. I need to sit down and talk to Heeseung.”
“Heeseung?” The girl, who you finally recognise as Rei, looks over at the center of the court, where almost the whole school is hooting and hollering in joy. “Wait—let me sit you down first. You’re pale as hell, damn.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you’re finally seated. Rei has passed you a bottle of mineral water and fans you with her pink hand-fan. She stays by your side, looking after you as the rest of the world celebrates the first champion of your university team. You’re painfully grateful to her for it.
“Hey. Can I call one of your friends? Or maybe, do you have an alpha I can contact?” Rei starts when you’re not speaking, too focused on not focusing on the pain to remember to talk. “You asked for Heeseung just now. Is he your alpha?”
Is he?
You wish you knew the answer to that too.
Instead, you shake your head. “He’s not my alpha. I just…need to have a few words with him.”
Rei purses her lips, clearly not pleased with your priority at the moment but obliges anyway. “Alright. Let me text my cousin real quick.” She says, already rummaging inside her bag for her phone.
Her statement intrigues you. “Cousin?”
“Nishimura Riki. And he’s not replying. Gimme a sec.” You watch as Rei presses the call button on her phone and puts the device over her ear. You follow her line of sight as she turns to look at the court again. The crowd hasn’t calmed down from the high of the win yet.
“Hello, adopted fuck. I need you to read my text ASAP—Nobody’s stealing your girlfriend, Riki! You can go back to kissing her face after you read my text—Okay, okay! My friend, Y/N, needs to talk to Heeseung. President-level urgent.” Rei pauses, taking a quick look at you before she continues. “Yes. It seems very important. Just get his ass here fast. Yeah—Congrats, by the way. I’m not buying you that Chrome Hearts chain. Bye.”
Rei sighs as she pockets her phone. “Heeseung will be here in five minutes. You good? Do you still need anything? I feel like I should call someone else. You’re friends with Ahn Yujin, aren’t you?” She rambles on. For someone who barely speaks to you, Rei sure is a caring omega.
You give her a small smile.”I’m alright, Rei. I’ll rest after seeing him.”
Rei hums, checking her phone when it vibrates. “Aight, if you say so. I’ll be around here until they move to celebrate at Jake’s frat tonight.” She gathers her stuff and stands up, brushing her pleated skirt with practiced elegance that you know is instilled in every cheerleader’s demeanour.
“You take care of yourself. And I better not see you at the party.”
“Thank you, Rei.” You wave at her and watch as the lines of her frame get smaller, disappearing into the crowd.
Now alone, the weight of reality is finally hitting you square in the chest. You curse, pulling your hair when you realise your stupid, impulsive decision, made in the whim of desperation to get the pain go away.
“This is stupid,” you whisper. Without thinking further, you grab your bag and stand to leave. But before you can flee the scene, a heavy presence with the familiar scent of spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze drifts into your senses.
“Y/N?”
The sound of your name leaving his lips has locked you in place. The haunting familiarity of his voice, one that follows you into your restless sleeps and every waking hour, engulfs you almost like the night he held you in his arms.
Except this time, there’s a piercing pain in your heart that comes with his presence. A dull, throbbing ache that’s been a constant company to you, manifested into the shape of the man that your wolf yearns for.
Lee Heeseung.
“Y/N?” He repeats, but you don’t dare to face him just yet. “Riki said you wanted to, uh, talk to me.”
Licking your dry lips, you turn to Heeseung, and the sight has almost rendered you breathless.
Heeseung’s still wearing his jersey, standing tall to his height like he’s dominating the air around him. His burgundy hair looks softer under the light, some small strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. His shoulders are squared up, still lined with pride and the high from winning the tournament. He looks at you calmly, but the edges of his eyes are somewhat gentler; if the lights weren’t tricking your eyes.
You gulp, already losing the battle before it has even started. Why does he have to look so handsome?
You force yourself to say something. “Yeah. I did. I mean, I do. It’s important. I think.”
Heeseung is patient. If your nervousness is something unusual to him, he doesn’t comment on it. After all, you’re indeed known as a shy girl among the cheerleaders.
“I’m…I’m going straight to the point and be honest with you.” Is this really happening? You’re scared that if you were to speak more, your heart might leap out of your mouth from how hard it is pumping behind your ribs. You hold your bag tighter, trying to ground yourself.
“I’m listening,” he hums.
The words are simple. His voice is calm. Too calm, like he’s unaffected, like he doesn’t have a clue about what you’re about to say. It almost makes you falter.
For a second, you just stare at him. At the same face your mind has been haunted for weeks, at the same eyes you’ve been avoiding because they make everything feel too real.
Except everything is actually real. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.
Your fingers curl tighter around your bag.
“Did you…feel anything?” you ask, voice smaller than you intended. “That night.”
Heeseung’s brows pull together, confused. “What do you mean?”
Your throat burns. Stop. Turn around. Leave.
“When you helped me,” you stubbornly continue, ignoring the self-preservation act your wolf’s pulling. “When you scented me. Did you feel something? Anything?”
There’s a shift in the air. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Heeseung’s shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens a fraction. A flash of something that leaves your heart hopeful crosses his face, but it leaves as soon as it comes.
“I was just helping you,” he finally says, almost too quickly. “You were in a bad state.”
The ache in your chest pulses, turning alive with each passing second.
“I know that,” you nod, almost too fast, the throbbing in your head comes back. The headache is well-guaranteed after this, you’re sure of it. “I know. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I just—I just need to know if you felt it too.”
“Felt what?”
You stare at him. God, he’s really making you say it. Is he truly clueless or is he playing with you? Whatever he is trying to do, he’s succeeding at making you feel smaller and…desperate.
“The pull,” you whisper after a while, “the connection.”
Silent stretches between the two of you. Heeseung returns your gaze, but his black eyes reveal nothing about his thoughts.
You try again. “You felt it too…right?”
There it is. For a fleeting second, you think you see it. That flicker in his eyes. The subtle hesitation. The twitch in his jaw. It almost makes you feel hopeful.
Heeseung exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair.
“Y/N,” he starts slower this time, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “There’s no such thing as that.”
If your heart was made of lead, you’re sure it’d clang to the floor so loud for how fast it drops.
“What?”
“Fated mates. Bond. Whatever you’re thinking.” He shakes his head, like he’s making a show of how ridiculous you sound. “That’s not real.”
The cracks finally shatter, allowing a big, gaping hole filled with utter anguish to take place in where your heart used to reside. Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens.
“But—” you try, voice undeniably trembling now. “Then, what is this?”
Your hand presses weakly against your chest.
“Why does it hurt like this? Why does,” your voice cracks, your omega thrashing wildly inside you, “why does it hurt so much?”
For a split second, panic flashes across his face. There’s a change in his scent. A sharp, biting spice that’s stinging your nose and thick, briny salt that leaves your throat itchy.
Because he knows. He knows this isn’t normal. He knows how he almost went psychosis the moment it happened to him three weeks ago.
But Heeseung’s always been good at leaving—it’s the one thing that’s been keeping his heart in a safe chest without any chances of getting hurt. It’s almost cruel that he never really cares if leaving right after sex would hurt any of the omegas, but he’s never felt bad enough to stop.
And you feel like someone who will make him stay.
So he does what he knows best.
“It’s in your head,” he says, firmer now. “Probably just your heat cycle messing with you. Or stress.”
The moment those words leave his mouth, your chest feels hollow. Your omega, previously hysterical and angry, is now awfully quiet and wounded.
Right. It’s just stress, he said.
You wish it was just stress.
“Oh,” is the only word you can utter. Heeseung nods, as if convincing himself too, and takes a step back.
But for you, it feels too much like a line being drawn.
“Maybe you should get some rest. You look kind of pale,” he suggests, though his voice is slowly getting small the longer he watches the changes in your expression. You’re not looking at him now, just staring at your feet with trembling fists.
The wilting flowers are back in his senses, filling up his nose and beating at his heart like a bat. Heeseung bites his lips, swallowing down the guilt.
“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
The sight of his retreating back…why is it so blurry?
“You are so fucking stupid, Heeseung.”
Heeseung’s always wondered how his best friend’s citrusy pheromones are going to smell like when he’s mad. Because Jay never gets mad at him. His friend has so much patience that every playful banter always stays as just a playful banter.
But tonight, Heeseung finally senses it. Jay smells bitter, like overripe lemon left too long in hot water. There’s a sharp, metallic tang to it too, representing the control that he’s trying so hard to keep in check. In response to the alpha’s irritated scent, Heeseung’s dominant wolf is itching to draw his claws out, sensing it as a threat.
They’re standing at the backyard of the frat house, where the pool is glowing blue and the night sky is blinking stars. It’s quieter here, with less people hanging around. Many guests have preferred to dance inside, still in celebration mode post-winning.
“What the fuck were you thinking, trying to get into someone else’s pants right after her—her confession?” Jay scoffs in disbelief. He has his back facing Heeseung, the tense muscle of his shoulders visible through the outline of his Polo shirt.
Heeseung, on the other hand, looks more disheveled. The collar of his shirt is misplaced, and there are faint lipstick marks staining his neck and the corner of his mouth. Jay had heard from Riki about what happened between Heeseung and you and the alpha was determined to drag Heeseung out of the bedroom, not before muttering a small apology to the omega he was with. It was all shouts and aggressive whispers between the two alphas until Riki managed to shoo them out.
Which brings them to this moment, where Jay is a ticking bomb and Heeseung is trying his best to calm down. Jay didn’t exactly know who she was, just that he’d seen her face among the cheerleaders. While Heeseung, well, he’s too worked up to explain.
“Confession? What made you think—”
“You guys are fated mates, Heeseung. Can’t you fucking see it?” Jay whips his head around. “This pull you’re feeling is because you guys are fated mates. There’s no other explanation to it.”
Heeseung clenches his jaw. “Those things don’t exist, Jongseong. Not to me.”
“Oh, come on. Then explain your sex problem.” Jay hisses, his eyes turning sharper. “You think I don’t know that you still can’t get your dick wet with other omegas?”
The burgundy-haired alpha doesn’t blink. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is when she could’ve died!” Jay snaps, his scent flaring with his nose. Heeseung grits his teeth, feeling challenged.
Then, softer, like vulnerability leaking through his anger, Jay continues: “You could’ve died, Heeseung.”
Heeseung stills. “What?”
Jay lets out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think so little of this matter, don’t you?” His voice drops, tight and furious. “A half-bond between fated mates when left too long can cause death. And with the speed you’re going with all these nameless omegas, I bet it’ll be her turn to die first.”
Heeseung scoffs, but it’s weaker now. There’s a new fear settling in his chest. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No,” Jay cuts in sharply. “You’re being stupid. I saw her just now. She’s pale as fuck.”
Heeseung’s quiet for a moment, staring into his friend’s eyes with almost the same amount of resentment. “It has nothing to do with me.”
Like a punishment to his lie, something twists sharply in his chest. But Heeseung is quick to mask his pain under a calm facade, gritting his teeth so hard he might break his jaw. Jay scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Oh, so you’re doing this again.” Jay steps closer, not backing away. “You’re running away again, like the coward that you are. You’ll just run and run, deflect and disappear. Typical Heeseung.”
Jay knows he’ll hit a spot if he says it, but he couldn’t care less. He watches as the expression on Heeseung hardens, giving away the emotions he kept locked in his chest.
“Don’t.”
But Jay doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t.
“You think I don’t see it?” Jay presses, voice rising. “Every time something starts to mean something, you bolt. New omega, new bed, new distraction—anything to avoid actually feeling something real.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what this is!” Jay gestures wildly, frustration spilling over. “You found your mate, and instead of dealing with it, you’re out there fucking anything that moves just to prove you’re still in control.”
Silence slams between them, heavy and ugly. Both alphas are holding back from spiraling, neck straining from self-control and simmering anger.
Heeseung’s laugh this time is cold. “Mate?” he repeats, like the word tastes disgusting. “You really believe in that shit?”
Jay stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face. “I believe in what’s right in front of me.”
“There’s nothing in front of you,” Heeseung shoots back. “She’s just an omega I helped. That’s it.”
“Then why her?” Jay fires immediately. “Why can you find her in a crowd? Why does your scent stick to her for days—for weeks? Why can’t you even touch another omega without looking like you’re about to throw up?”
Heeseung falters, his words failing him as Jay hits him with those facts. His shaky stance doesn’t go unnoticed by the alpha, though. He’s quick to seize the chance.
Jay inhales sharply. “You know I’m right, Heeseung. You and Y/N share a bond.”
“So what?!” Heeseung snaps, frustration finally cracking through. “So what if there’s a bond? You want me to just—what? Drop everything? Play house? Act like I’m suddenly someone I’m not?”
Heeseung meets Jay’s fiery gaze head-on and shoves his friend harshly. “Stay out of it, Jay. I swear to fucking God.”
“And what? Watch you let her die because you couldn’t care less to acknowledge the bond?” Jay lets out a hollow laugh, pushing Heeseung back just as hard. “And then I watch you die?”
“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about this.”
Their scents clash; sharp citrus and aggressive spice filling up the space like a warning siren. It almost turns physical, Riki almost bursts through the door when he sees their chests almost touching. But it is Jay who stops first.
Not because he wants to. But because he’s thinking of you.
“My parents are fated mates, Heeseung.” Jay starts, quieter, his voice losing its harsh edges. “Doesn’t mean you don’t believe in it, it isn’t real to other people.”
Heeseung remains quiet, his chest still moving rapidly.
Jay’s eyes turn glassy. He retreats one more step away from Heeseung. “If you don’t want her, reject the bond properly,” he says, breathing hard. “You’re letting someone know that you don’t want her as your mate. At least have the decency to be kind about it.”
Jay unclenches his fists.
“Don’t drag her through this half-assed bullshit where you keep hurting her just because you can’t make a decision.”
Heeseung freezes. Out of all words being shouted tonight, it is this quiet resignation from Jay that hits his heart the hardest.
Am I being cruel? Heeseung lowers his gaze. Am I a coward?
Heeseung doesn’t wait too long for an answer.
“Stop being a coward, Heeseung. I beg you.”
The words hang between them, like unwanted vines curling around a trunk of a tree. Heeseung’s gaze stays rooted to the ground, trying to find his voice.
But he doesn’t get the chance to.
“...Heeseung?”
Your voice, soft as it is, cuts through the air like a blade. Both alphas turn to where you’re standing by the door. The faint light spilling from the moon only highlights how pale your face is, void of any warmth and colour.
You stand there, one hand gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, your other pressed weakly against your chest. Your eyes, God, your eyes. They’re glassy, unfocused, yet locked onto him like you’ve found something you’ve been searching for your entire life.
Beside him, Heeseung can sense the way Jay’s body tenses the way his does.
“Heeseung…” you call for him again and move to get closer.
But then you flinch. Your entire body recoils, your nose scrunches.
There, lingering around Heeseung like an unwanted mark, is a scent you know too well. Fruity bubblegum and cloying cotton candy; a scent that flashes pink in your head, turning into a female rage that hits too close to home. Your gaze catches the shape of someone’s mouth staining his golden skin, and something inside you breaks.
Narin.
Heeseung smells like Narin.
Your hand instinctively goes to cover your nose, eyes slowly going wide. The room goes silent, holding its breath as Heeseung feels it.
The fleeting second where something inside you shatters.
Heeseung steps forward. “Y/N—”
But you retreat faster, away from him like he’s a disease that could kill you.
“No,” your voice cracks, shaking your head as if trying to physically deny what your body is already registering. “No, no, no…”
Your breath comes out in shallow bursts, your fingers clawing at your shirt.
It hurts. It hurts so bad.
It’s like every system in your body is collapsing, failing to cope with the ultimate rejection that comes in the scent of another woman. Your fist hits your chest, forcing the air to flow in because it suddenly feels almost impossible to breathe.
Heeseung feels it now—really, really feels it. The bond is thrashing, frantic, like it’s holding onto something that’s slipping through its grasp. The pained scent of withering daisies starts filling up the air, suffocating both alphas instantly. Jay shifts uncomfortably, looking back and forth from Heeseung to you in alert.
“Hey, hey—Y/N,” Heeseung tries again, softer this time, reaching out instinctively. “Look at me. Y/N—”
“Don’t!” Your voice spikes, sharp with fear. Heeseung freezes, his throat closing up when he sees something you’re yet to realise.
That’s when you feel it—something warm trickling down your nose. You instinctively wipe it and stare at the red liquid smearing your fingers.
Blood. Then another drop falls on your palm. Before you can react properly, it already spills down your chin, past your fingers, dripping onto the floor, tainting the white tiles like a crime scene.
“Fuck.” Jay curses under his breath, his wolf perking up in alarm.
Beside him, Heeseung is beyond agitated. “Y/N!”
He doesn’t think. Heeseung lunges forward, longing to be close to you at that moment. But you’re already shaking your head rapidly, tears spilling uncontrollably now.
“Stop!” you gasp, pale lips trembling like dying petals. “I can’t do this—I can’t—”
Inside you, your omega is screaming in pain. In betrayal. In self-preservation. Her voice, raw and jagged, torn by pain, echoes in your head.
An instinct, primal and desperate, takes over your being.
Cut it off.
Cut it off before it kills you.
You clutch at your chest, lungs burning up like a wildfire. Tears spill out freely, drenching your face in anguish and agony.
Cut it off!
And finally, you let go.
Across from you, just a few paces away, Heeseung feels it like a force, stopping him in his tracks.
It doesn’t come gradually, or slowly. It rips through his body. A violent, invisible force tearing straight through his chest like something sacred being forcibly severed. His breath is knocked out of him.
“Fuck!” Somewhere behind him, Jay is also spiraling, realising what’s going down.
But Heeseung doesn’t know. He staggers, his knees almost giving up as excruciating pain spreads from the scent gland in his neck down to his chest. Something inside him—something he never fully acknowledges—finally snaps. He almost screams.
A thick veil of tears wells up instantly, blurring his vision faster than he could process it.
“Y/N,” his voice breaks, the cracks showing up like poison in daggers. Across from him, you’re already sobbing.
It’s loud and raw, a wailing that stops even the loud music from inside. Your scent, bitter and beyond distressed, is now flooding the space like a broken dam. Your body folds in on itself as if trying to contain something that’s already shattered beyond repair.
Inside of you, your omega goes silent completely.
And it terrifies him. A lot.
Heeseung clutches his neck, where his scent gland is pulsing violently, throbbing in an indescribable pain that feels like it could kill him. And when his eyes find yours, he realises with dread that the pull is no longer there.
He can’t feel you. His wolf can’t feel your wolf.
The constant, aching thread that’s been tying him to you; it’s gone.
You cut the bond from your side.
The half-bond, already fragile with doubt and cowardice, is hanging by its loose thread. If it was a red string like many people had said, Heeseung’s sure it’d waver pathetically by his finger, trembling like a thread losing its kite.
“What…What did you do?” he whispers, voice hollow and shaky.
Heeseung takes a step forward again, ignoring Jay’s warning voice from behind him. His focus becomes singular on you, not minding the many pairs of eyes watching from the other side of the door.
This time, his step is slower and careful, like approaching something fragile. Something that is already broken.
Someone wounded.
You don’t move toward him. You don’t even spare him a look. You just cry, quietly, as now it feels empty where the bond used to be. You can’t feel him.
You can only feel pain.
“Y/N…”
“...I want to leave.”
You wipe your nose, the blood still fresh and wet. You lean on the door for support, still trying to hold yourself up despite the urge to just collapse. Heeseung has to force restraint on himself, holding himself back from running to you. He searches your face, trying to catch your eyes, terrified beyond reason.
The silence is deafening.
At last, you lift your gaze, misty eyes meeting misty eyes.
“I ended it.” Your voice, used to be soft and warm, is now cold. Heeseung feels his lungs stop functioning.
synopsis. heeseung loves omegas, but he doesn’t believe in mates—especially fated ones. that kind of destiny is reserved for people like riki and jay. but then he meets you. and the first thing you ask him to do is scent-mark you: an intimate activity shared only between mates. a spin-off from love me (k)not!
warnings. slightly suggestive, fated mates-coded, power imbalance, unjust system and society, harassment against omegas (not by heeseung), &team cameo but they're assholes here sorry! i love them though dw, mating mark, scent-marking, heeseung is a dominant alpha, and a bigger asshole i fear, reader is a cheerleader, alpha!jay being our target again (sorry), alpha!riki, alpha!sunghoon, beta!ahn yujin, omega!rei, sunoo is bi, heeseung is also bi, this omegaverse is partly made up by me! but it’s just a tiny portion of it just to keep the plot going, denial, rejection, angst, not beta read we die like injang, please let me know if i missed anything!
word count. 21,280 words
note. please read this before proceeding 🤎 everything here is purely fictional and it has nothing to do with the members as a person outside of this fanfiction 🤎 also idk how cheerleading works so pls bear with me...
In a private booth of a nightclub, a group of long-legged, broad-shouldered alphas huddle around the table, drinks in hands. The air is layered with pheromones and adrenaline, occasionally flashing with neon lights and blurred with thin smoke.
In the middle of the couch, Heeseung sits leisurely, manspreading with ease. On either side of him, Jay and Riki lean back in a similar posture, each of them engaged in the conversation bouncing between the team.
The team has just won a friendly match against their long-sworn rival, a university from the west, after a frustrating streak of loss for two consecutive tournaments. It wasn’t really a landslide win, considering their competitive skills, but a win is a win. A satisfied smirk curls around Heeseung’s bow-shaped lips, his alpha purring with pride.
Friendly or not, the whiskey surely tastes extra sweet tonight.
“Did you see K’s face just now?” Riki pipes up from his left, still buzzing with adrenaline. Being the last man to score and secure the win for them, it’s obviously hard for Riki to contain his enthusiasm. He’s beaming wide. “I did that. I wiped that smirk off his face, gentlemen!”
The rest of the team roars in reply, infected by Riki’s contagious excitement. Heeseung and Jay wear a fond smile on their lips, clearly delighted to see the younger alpha’s happiness. Glasses clink again as they toast to their win, and to their future wins, and to the sexy, beautiful cheerleading omegas that played a part in keeping their spirits up just now—to which Jay grimaces and Riki rolls his eyes at. Heeseung snorts.
He forgets that he’s friends with a prude and a loyal, claimed alpha.
“Speaking of omegas,” Heeseung tilts his head at Riki when the chatters break into small groups of conversations among the team, leaving him to talk to two of his closest friends. “It’s a surprise to see you here, Ki. Like seeing a four-leaf clover.”
Jay joins in, his signature lopsided grin on display. “I half-expected you to run home to your girlfriend. It’s hard to see you hang out with us at the club now, pup.”
Riki crosses his arms with a dramatic huff. His bottom lip juts out in a pout. In this light, when Riki shows this side of him, free from fake nonchalance and his cool persona, Heeseung sees him ten years younger than his actual age. Riki is so cute.
“I fully expected to run home to her too, hyung. But she forced me to come here. Said something like I should celebrate my win with y’all,” Riki sighs, messing with his newly-dyed hair and tipping his head back. “So here I am. Drinking with you idiots when I could’ve cuddled with my sweet, sweet omega at home.”
Jay feigns offence while Heeseung laughs. The both of them know too well of Riki’s devotion to his girlfriend. Maybe it’s the alpha-omega bond, or just the fact that they’ve known each other practically their whole lives, but Riki is never at ease whenever she’s not around.
But tonight, the alpha seems more relaxed than usual. He’s not playing with his fingers or toying with the hem of his shirt like he always did when his girlfriend is absent. Heeseung wonders why the sudden change until he catches a glimpse of something at the back of Riki’s neck.
His brows furrow. His movement falters mid-air.
“Riki? Is that…” Heeseung squints his eyes, trying to see better while the tips of Riki’s ears slowly redden. From his right, Heeseung can hear a soft gasp from Jay.
“Holy shit. Is that your mating mark, Ki?”
It is. It is a mating mark, Heeseung realises, when a purple neon light flashes on Riki’s wounded skin. The alpha is rubbing his neck sheepishly now, heat sweeping across his cheeks. Despite his sudden shy demeanour, Heeseung can smell the pride in his sandalwood scent, and in that moment he finally notices the subtle layer of sweet vanilla—Riki’s girlfriend’s scent—in Riki’s pheromones.
“Yeah,” Riki confirms, still red like a tomato. “I mated with her last night.”
“Wow,” Jay breathes out in amazement, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “About time, man! You’re finally mated!”
Jay’s exclamation attracts attention and soon, the whole group is congratulating Riki on the milestone. The said alpha is red down to his neck now, clearly not expecting the sudden shift of focus on him but still relishing in the pride of having his mating mark, if the musky lilt to his pheromones is anything to go by.
Heeseung remains a quiet observer, watching as Riki pulls down the collar of his shirt to proudly show the mark. Two other alphas join him as they speak fondly of their omegas, relishing in their identical mating mark on their napes. Beside him, Jay listens with an adoring smile. There’s a certain longing in his gaze when he stares at the mated alphas that doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung.
Heeseung averts his eyes away, trying to forget that familiar look on Jay’s face. He almost scoffs at the image.
He knows that look like the back of his hand.
Jay, too, yearns for a mate. Like Riki. Unlike Heeseung.
Mate. It’s the word that is so common in omegaverse but so foreign in Heeseung’s little world.
If Jay is a walking green flag that effortlessly attracts omegas with his gentleman charms, Heeseung is a running red flag that chases after willing omegas. If Jay stays away from wild sex life, Heeseung lives by it. If Jay dates to marry, Heeseung fucks to breathe. He’s everything Jay’s not that Riki was so bewildered when the two first met him.
Don’t get him wrong—he’s not the creepy kind of chaser. Rather, he likes to call himself the sexy one. It’s not hard for him to pull; just a few flirty comments here and a couple of filthy whispers there and the next hour he’ll have an omega to bring home and under him.
He doesn’t know if he’s the only one wired this way, but where territorial instincts stream in his alpha blood, his sexual desires run even harder and faster. It’s like an itch that just won’t get away if he doesn’t scratch at it. He’s an attractive alpha with a high sex drive, he admits it, but is he really wrong to accept any omegas with his long, eager arms?
He thinks not.
Plus, they’re omegas. Heeseung tries not to objectify them, but gosh, the scent wafting from them is always so sweet and inviting. They’re curved softly, meant to hold and love the right, physical way that he’s known how to. He’s a weak man, and an even weaker alpha; Heeseung can’t resist a good fuck between two consenting adults and he always, always consents to being sucked off dry and scratched to bleed.
Fuck, just thinking about it is already making him excited.
Heeseung’s eyes wander, tuning out the conversation about mate as he scans for any attractive omega. It’s starting to bore him—the talk about mate and having a mate and being mated—so he’s entertaining himself with the exposed skin and swaying hips of dancing omegas on the dance floor.
For someone like him that gets off on having sex with omegas and being drunk on their sweet pheromones, mating culture is a big no for him. The idea of being tied to only one omega makes him laugh; it sounds ridiculous to him. He’s an alpha capable of giving and his knot is not limited to only one hole, so why should he settle?
Only hopeless-romantic alphas believe in the belief of fated mates. And unfortunately, two of his friends do. Heeseung mentally rolls his eyes.
He decides that he’s had enough when the mated alphas start talking about having pups; another commitment that makes goosebumps rise in his skin. Wordlessly, he places his shot glass on the table, having sipped only half of it throughout the night.
“Leaving already?” Jay asks, craning his neck when Heeseung stands. The latter only cocks his head to the dance floor with a knowing look. The corner of his mouth curves into a playful smirk when Jay makes a face.
“The usual.”
Jay shakes his head. “Whatever. Just don’t do it raw.”
“I’m always clean and safe, Jongseong.” Heeseung retorts, already taking his leave. “Call me when you’re leaving.”
Whatever Jay replies is muffled by the loud bass and Heeseung couldn’t care less to know what the alpha has said. Probably throwing him insults for using him as his personal chauffeur again. Heeseung only shrugs. Jay’s not his concern tonight. He has a bigger fish, or rather, a pretty wolf, to catch.
His eyes sweep across the space. From where he’s standing, his nose can pick up different scents of alphas and omegas. Even the faint scent of betas are visible, usually amplified by alcohol and adrenaline. He’s still deciding between two male omegas throwing asses back on the dance floor and a group of female omegas giggling at a table not far from him when a spiked scent stabs at his senses.
His nose instantly scrunches, frowning as he tries to detect that smell. An omega in distress. It’s faint, coming from the direction of the exit door, but he can’t see anyone crying or visibly uncomfortable in his line of sight.
Heeseung looks around, momentarily distracted from his initial mission. Nobody seems to notice the scent, however, and Heeseung blames his dominant traits for this. He sometimes forgets that he’s a dominant alpha. Unlike Jay and Riki, his senses are more sensitive and developed, which is a blessing when he’s looking for a hookup and a curse when he’s inside the locker room after a game when the air is drenched in his teammates’ pheromones. Heeseung shudders at the memories. He’s always the first to shower and leave the room because only Riki smells good when sweating.
His thoughts are brought back when the scent intensifies. Heeseung keeps sniffing and blindly follows the trail of wilting daisies and burnt honey, his shoulders braced and jaw tense. He doesn’t know why, but the scent has awakened his senses to a new degree. His alpha is on full alert now.
He passes by dancing bodies and tables to get to the exit door but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. Heeseung looks down.
A soft, seductive voice reaches his ears. “Heeseung-ssi?”
Heeseung blinks at the smiling omega. After a second of stunned silence, he finally recognises the logo on her varsity jacket and the makeup on her face. Realisation dawns upon him.
She’s part of his college’s cheerleader squad.
The omega is running a hand up and down his arm now, arching her back to flaunt the soft swell of her chest. Behind her, her fellow cheerleaders watch closely, hiding eager smiles behind their palms. Heeseung looks down at her hand, gulping despite himself.
“Spare me a few minutes, will you, my precious, capable alpha?”
Her voice is so enticing, dripping with the kind of allure Heeseung’s so much familiar with. There is a strong wave of her sweet scent—bubblegum and cotton candy, Heeseung notes—coming from her in full force. She’s fluttering her lashes now, hoping he’ll get the message.
Heeseung does; oh does he get the message so well. He knows what she’s hinting on and on any other nights he’ll succumb to the temptation without putting any efforts to think, melting into a puddle of juices at the slightest touch of seductive omegas. It’s a no-brainer decision for him, usually, because he’s always ready to fuck and he always brings a pack of condom with him for this sole reason.
But tonight his wolf is restless. And the reason is none other than the bitter scent still clinging to his nose.
Heeseung gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and removes her hand from his arm. The omega frowns, brows almost uniting at the center when the alpha takes a step back.
“Next time, yeah?”
Without waiting for her reply, Heeseung slips away from the crowd, ignoring the sour turn of her pheromones. He can feel their eyes boring into his back, but that’s not his concern now. Following the haunting scent and the sudden flaring instincts to get closer to the owner of it, Heeseung lets his legs bring him closer to the exit door.
Heeseung hates to admit it, but right now, his wolf is thrashing at the bitter scent and his chest feels like caving in. He can feel the itch in his nails; his claws are threatening to sharpen. He frowns.
He’s never reacted this way to any omegas in distress. So why now? Why this particular scent?
When he reaches the door, Heeseung doesn’t waste a second to push it open and steps outside. As he does so, a weight suddenly crashes into his chest, pushing him slightly backwards from the force.
“Oof—”
Heeseung reaches up to steady the figure by the arms. At this sudden proximity, the scent is thicker, the wilting daisies are more prominent it's making his heart constrict. Heeseung lets out a deep exhale and looks down to the person practically in his arms.
A female omega. Clearly in distress, judging by the unshed tears and the tremble in her lips. A familiar varsity jacket drapes across her frame and Heeseung feels his breath stop when he recognises that face.
It’s you. One of the cheerleaders. Heeseung knows many cheerleaders, having been in bed with most of them; but even the most forgetful alpha will remember an omega like you.
A sweet face with a sweeter scent to match, but you are always detached from alphas and their advances. You’re the shy cheerleader his teammates always talk about. The untouchable one. The politely-smile-and-then-reject omega. Heeseung remembers you too well, being one of those rejected alphas himself.
He still remembers how disappointed his wolf was, whining and pouting when a pretty omega he had his eyes on rejected him. But Heeseung is a respectful alpha. He’ll take a no as a no. And you were also so kind when doing so that he moved on from it pretty fast and well.
That was one year ago.
Now you’re crying in his arms, for whatever reasons he doesn’t know and is determined to find out. He can feel your hold on his arms tighten, the spike in your scent when you recognise him, and the hitch in your breath that follows. The bitter scent is definitely coming from you.
“H-Heeseung?” Your voice is so small, like you’re not sure if you can call his name. It’s shaky and breathless. “Please help me.”
Behind you, Heeseung can see three shadows entering the alleyway. Even from the distance, his nose immediately picks up the pheromones of aroused alphas; thick and unpleasant. Your scent lingers amidst the stench, wavering in fear, so heavy he can practically taste it on his tongue. Heeseung instinctively pulls you closer.
“Are they bothering you?”
You nod frantically, the tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. When you speak, your voice is wet from tears and fear.
Nothing can ever prepare Heeseung for the words that are about to leave your mouth.
“P-Please…Please scent me.” You sob, clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt tighter. Heeseung’s breath stutters. “Please, Heeseung.”
Scent-mark. A low rumble sounds from his chest.
You’re asking him to mark you. To…claim you. It’s basically you asking him to bond with you, to shower you with his pheromones and make you smell like him. Smell like you’re his.
This is not what Heeseung’s looking forward to tonight. The fantasy of saving an omega in distress and scent-marking belongs to Jay, an alpha that was even willing to help an omega in heat out of the goodness of his heart. But not Heeseung. That’s never Heeseung. Heeseung doesn’t play the hero; he’s the one stealing the female lead from them.
Scent-marking is way…too intimate to share between two complete strangers with no interaction—that is, if you consider being rejected to having sex together as zero interaction.
Heeseung looks between you and the shadows closing in, then licks his lips. “I can’t,” he tries, and the broken look on your face damn near makes his heart take the same fate. Heeseung schools his expression, forcing himself to push you slightly away from him.
“I—This is not right. You don’t want this.”
He can’t take advantage of you. This is just your scared omega speaking. Outside of this situation, he’s damn sure you’d refuse any kind of bonds with him. Heeseung might be a sex addict, but he’s not an asshole.
But you pull him with you, shaking your head as you keep taking a glance at the approaching alphas. “I do! Please,” you choke, failing to keep your voice steady as you plead at the alpha in front of you. Heeseung forces restraint to his instincts. “Please just scent-mark me, Heeseung. I-I can’t—They will—” You heave a deep breath, your scent taking a sourer lilt at his refusal.
“They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.”
Something sharp stabs at his chest, rendering him speechless and frozen for a moment. Heeseung stares at your trembling figure, at your shrinking body as if to make yourself disappear, and it suddenly hits him how disgusting the whole situation is.
They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.
Alphas only take a no when it comes from another alpha.
Heeseung feels nauseous. His throat closes in and there’s a quiet ringing in his ears. In that heavy, stilled silence, everything is muffled to his senses. Only the echoes of your words ripple in his mind.
Unless it’s another alpha.
It’s a hard pill to swallow; one that Heeseung finds it bitter to believe—because it’s so, so easy to walk away from omegas than force yourself on them. It’s so, so easy to shoot your pride down than dwell on it and go feral over a rejection. It’s so, so easy to respect an omega, even for a fuckboy like him, so why is it hard for other alphas to do so?
And the result of this harsh world, of this fucked up power imbalance is sobbing in his arms, shaking and forcing herself to be okay with an unwanted bond just to save herself. Heeseung’s heart breaks for you, for the fate that follows a beautiful being like you just because of secondary genders and because the world says so.
“Please, I-I don’t—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Heeseung whispers, rubbing a soothing circle on your arms. Your crying subsides a fraction. “I’ll scent you if that makes you feel better. Is that…okay?”
You blink at him tearily, streaks of salty tears tainting your unblemished cheeks. Even with a swollen face, you still look as pretty as he remembers.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nods, taking a hold of your wrist when he senses those alphas getting near. “Or we can just get inside and call the cops on them if you change your mind. You can find—”
“No,” you grip him tighter, your previously-calmed scent spiking again. “Cops are useless. T-They won’t—please, Heeseung. You know how they are.”
You know how unfair the system is.
Heeseung swallows hard before he nods, the burnt honey in your pheromones starting to get really thick and sticky. He rubs the inside of your wrists, slow and deliberate, before bringing the scent gland to his nose. It’s the most appropriate point to scent, less intimate than scenting at your neck, which he guesses the last thing you want from him right now.
The tip of his nose caresses the delicate skin tentatively, testing and tasting before he takes a deep inhale. Immediately, the scent of daisies and honey fill up his senses and Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling. There is a rush of energy bursting through his veins, his senses tingling and his wolf purring at the sweet combination of your pheromones. Heeseung feels his wolf hum, almost singing and sighing, like his muscles are unknotting in a hot spring.
It’s strange. It’s new. But Heeseung pushes the thoughts aside.
He runs his nose over your wrist over and over again, blanketing you in his pheromones and starting to feel you relax in his arms.
The tension in your shoulders visibly disappears as you let yourself melt into Heeseung. You sigh. Heeseung’s pheromones are just like him; warm spice of cinnamon carried by cool air of sea breeze. It symbolises his fierce persona on the court and his calm demeanour when he’s out of his jersey perfectly. You lean into him further, your squirming wolf unknowingly calms down when being washed by his pheromones.
If Heeseung notices the change in your demeanour, he doesn’t say anything about it, shoving the thought to the back of his mind. His singular focus is entirely on your pulse, nosing at your wrist and pumping out his calming pheromones. When he opens his eyes, they mirror the look in yours: dazed and slightly glassy. The air is now loaded with daisies and cinnamon, intertwining with each other in a perfect, balanced mix of scent.
Heeseung tries to ignore the loud pounding of his heart, but it’s all he can hear. He tries to ignore the stars in your eyes, but it’s all he can see. He tries to ignore how perfectly balanced the mix of your scent is with his. His grip on your wrist tightens, breath caught in his throat. His wolf refuses to let you go, wanting to keep you here, tucked safely in his embrace for as long as he can.
And that thought is so foreign and scary. He really hopes that’s just his wolf and not him.
“Hey, little bunny.” A sick, twisted voice interrupts.
Oh, right.
Those fucking, disgusting alphas.
Heeseung is always slouching, making him appear shorter than he actually is. But in that moment, he’s standing so tall, dominating the space around him like the air is making room for him itself.
He instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from the hungry eyes of the approaching alphas. His shoulders are braced like they’re ready for an impact and Heeseung has to force a snarl down his throat when his eyes land on the wolves.
When the shadows step under the light, it takes less than a second for Heeseung to see the jerseys clinging to their bodies before he realises who he’s looking at.
They’re the players from the opposing team that his team just beat tonight.
K, EJ, and Nicholas.
Heeseung grinds his jaw so hard he might pop a vessel.
“If it’s not the mighty Lee Heeseung,” K taunts, wearing a smug smirk like a badge at the sight in front of him. He cocks his head, trying to see you over Heeseung’s shoulders. You cower. “Mind sharing your pretty little cheerleader? She’s exactly my type, shy but slutty.”
Shame spreads across your skin and you screw your eyes shut. Shy and slutty, you bite your lips. You’re nothing but a kinky fantasy for alphas like them.
As if sensing your turmoil, Heeseung stands taller, his eyes narrowing thin.
“Get lost.” Heeseung tries to hold back, but the rage he feels seeps through anyway. “And cover your gland, for fuck’s sake. You stink.”
K’s eyebrows shoot up, his grin turning cheshire. “Come on, man. Are you gatekeeping your cheerleaders?” K tries to take a peek at you, but Heeseung moves and covers you with his whole body. His frown deepens. “You had fucked her already. Don’t be greedy, captain.”
His alpha minions laugh, and Heeseung is now seeing red. Something hot spreads in his chest, burning in his vein like wildfire at the insult. Was it a hit to his ego and his shameless sexual routine? Definitely, but Heeseung never takes it to heart. Rather, it’s the way you gasp and sob into his back, shaken by the disgusting assumption of your dignity and your virginity. The storm of the ocean spikes in the air, taking his pheromones to a dangerous peak, gathering a tide to a new height.
Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever released pheromones this bad. But something about seeing the same pattern of omegas falling victim to empty-headed alphas makes his blood boil.
Behind him, you whimper, your omega reacting to the agitated alpha in front of you. But Heeseung is now relentless. He holds out an arm around your waist, protecting you from their sight in a tight, almost-possessive grip.
“Watch your fucking mouth. Don’t you get it?” Heeseung seethes, pupils thinning as the laughter dies down. “She doesn’t want you. In what fucking language must she say no for your stupid brain to understand? She’s—”
Mine. She’s mine, his wolf howls. My omega.
Heeseung grits his teeth.
No, she’s not. Get a fucking grip, Lee Heeseung. You don’t have a mate.
“...not a toy.”
The sea-salt bite of his pheromones thickens in the alley. K scoffs, stepping forward in offense but is stopped by Nicholas. The latter has his arm shot out against K’s chest, preventing him from approaching the couple.
“No, K,” Nicholas murmurs, nose sniffing at the heavy pheromones in the air. Underneath the eye-watering spice of cinnamon and the raging storm of Heeseung’ sea breeze scent, there is a tangled sweetness of daisies and honey clinging to it. He visibly gulps. “They’re together. And Heeseung…”
Nicholas throws him a side eye, giving him a once-over briefly. He takes in the sharp glare directed his way, the downturned curl of his mouth, the tense shoulders ready to pounce. Nicholas shudders imperceptibly and shakes his head.
“…He’s a dominant alpha.”
His statement, though meant to deescalate the situation, only rages Heeseung on further. The alpha takes a menacing step forward, eyes narrowing thin at the trio. They falter back.
“Get this in your empty brains you freaks,” Heeseung grits, fuming beyond reason. Nicholas swears he sees something red flickering in his irises.
“When someone says no, you back the fuck off. Dominant alpha or not. Omega or not.” He spits out the word, the venom in his voice nearly poisons the air. “Do you fucking get it?”
His raging pheromones are turning physical, pressing on each pair of lungs like lead on a mattress. Nicholas fights the urge to cover his nose and pulls his two friends backwards with him.
“We get it. Sorry, captain.”
“Not me,” Heeseung hisses. A low growl rumbles in warning. “Her.”
Nicholas licks his lips and nods. He bows down quickly, forcing the other alphas to bend despite it hurting his pride. K reluctantly follows, though his eyes return the glare Heeseung gives him in a similar intensity.
“We’re sorry, omega. Shit, I don’t know your name, but—we’re sorry.”
In the next moment, the three alphas are already retreating. Nicholas aggressively whispers something among them while K visibly restrains himself from running back to Heeseung. He clearly doesn’t mind taking up a challenge with the dominant alpha and Heeseung finds himself not minding to dirty his hands too.
A beat of heavy silence falls upon you. You stay rooted in place, pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung is still facing away from you, ragged breathing slowing down. The air of dense pheromones is thinning out, leaving behind trails of spicy cinnamon and soft daisies.
You let out a breath and your knees buckle.
Heeseung is by your side in a flash, the same, now-familiar arms caging you against his tall frame. You put your hands on his chest, trying to steady the wobble in your legs.
“Hey, hey. You’re okay now. They’re gone.”
They really are. You cry. They’re actually gone.
An ugly sob racks through your chest and soon, the wilting daisies are back, staining the air with crumpled petals and sad flowers. Heeseung tightens his hold. He doesn’t like seeing people cry, but his alpha apparently despises it the most when he sees you in this state.
His calming pheromones pour out in waves, hands carding through your hair gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”
You’re safe with me.
Your crying slows down. For a few seconds, you let yourself savour the warmth of Heeseung’s embrace. Closer, his pheromones, layered with a faint trail of his body wash, are stronger, filling up the almost-nonexistent space between the two of you. Strangely, the spice and the salt work wonders on calming you down.
Your wolf—previously anxious and distressed—is now quiet.
Heeseung adjusts his hold on you, and in that moment do you only realise in horror how long you’ve been shamelessly hugging him. Like a reflex, you pull away from his embrace, cheeks now flaming red when his shirt is now stained with two big spots of your tears.
“I’m sorry!” Your palms instinctively rub at the stains, as if they can dry out the tears out of the fabric. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
Heeseung looks down, silently watching the small of your palms against his broad chest. There’s a strange flutter that follows, quiet and unfamiliar. He hopes that you can’t feel it through the fabric.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Heeseung murmurs, eyes finding their ways back to your face. Red nose, swollen eyes, blotched cheeks. You really went through it, still sniffling as you still try to fix the stains on his shirt. A small part of him twists uncomfortably.
Heeseung catches your wrists, his thumbs moving almost instinctively against the soft skin.Your breath catches as you lift your gaze to look at him.
“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks, voice soft and gentle. You immediately nod, admittedly feeling better after being bathed in his calming pheromones.
“I’m okay. Just a bit thirsty.”
He searches your face, as if trying to detect any kind of discomfort or distress. But in the end, he ends up staring into your eyes, counting the lashes that guard your beautiful eyes.
It should end there. He really should just escort you back into the safety of your friend group and leave you be. Perhaps, he can go find the previous omega, seduce his way back and bring her home. The normal. The usual.
But something inside stirs in protest to that idea, and so instead he finds himself saying: “Let’s get you something to drink.”
The convenience store is bright under the dark sky, located just two blocks away from the nightclub. It’s already past one in the morning, but to the people of the night, it’s only the beginning of fun. From a distance, the queue line is only getting longer.
Beside you, Heeseung is walking on the edge of the pavement, looking out for cars despite the slow traffic. He’s been quiet since the alleyway, seemingly lost in thought. Occasionally, his hand will brush yours, a quiet graze that sends electricity in your system. You try not to react.
The convenience store is empty, save for a group of partygoers sobering up around the round table outside, leaving only a long bench beside the door empty. You stop when Heeseung does, his hand already tapping on the sensory handle.
“Wait here. I’ll buy you something to drink.”
You nod, obediently sitting down. Heeseung takes one last look at you before he enters the store, the harsh lights greeting his tired eyes. He grabs the coldest mineral water and stops in front of the necessities shelves.
Without thinking, his hand moves like it has a mind of its own, grabbing whatever his eyes land on—a heat pack, chocolate, a pack of wet tissues. It’s only when the cashier scans the items that he pauses, staring at the items with wide eyes.
Since when does he…do this?
“Anything to add, sir?”
Heeseung gulps, looks past the cashier’s head, and lands on the rows of pills behind him.
She cried too much, she might have a headache.
And so, as if on instinct, Heeseung adds paracetamol to his receipt.
Outside, the air is cooler, biting at exposed skin like a bug. Heeseung wordlessly sits beside you, placing the plastic bag on his lap. You curiously peek into the bag.
“That’s a lot. Are you hungry?”
Heeseung pauses, realisation dawns upon him. His instincts flare again. “No. Are you? Do you want ramyeon? Or packed rice? I can—”
“No! It’s fine, Heeseung,” you laugh softly, the sound like a melodious chime of a bell to his ears. “I had dinner.”
Heeseung visibly relaxes and nods. He hands you the bottle first, twisting the cap open before passing it over without a word. He watches you drink, takes the bottle from you, and gives you the heat pack next.
You blink at him. “It’s cold,” Heeseung shrugs, pulling your hand towards him and placing the heat pack on your palm. He closes your fingers over it. “This will warm you up a bit.”
For a second, you just stare at him. The warmth in your hand spreads from your fingers up to your chest, where your heart is thumping wildly at his gentle act.
You bring the heat pack to your neck, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare at him, cheeks blooming red. They put him in a trance, your eyes, as Heeseung finds himself unable to look away. His gaze then drops to your lips when they move, already clinging to every syllable without even knowing it.
“Thank you, Heeseung.”
The flutter comes back, now more frantic and aggressive than before, like a caged bird trying to escape. This time, Heeseung forces himself to look away, the plastic bag wrinkles under his tightening grip.
“Don’t mention it.”
“I mean it, though.” You counter back, gazing at the passing cars as you feel a gust of chilling wind breezing through. You scoot closer to the heat beside you. “It was really scary. Thank you for helping me out.”
There’s a bitter tone, faint and subtle, to your scent, as if you’re recalling the ugly incident that just happened almost half an hour ago. Heeseung clenches his jaw.
Before he can stop it, his pheromones spill out like soft waves, calming and comforting, cocooning you again like a safety blanket. His wolf hums in quiet satisfaction, watching the way your shoulders loosen, the tension melting off you bit by bit.
Heeseung doesn’t know when or how it happened, but there’s no gap between you now. But he doesn’t hate it like he thought he would. Here, you’re so close to him, your shoulder practically glued to his, seeking warmth from his body heat.
It’s a foreign feeling. A comfortable, foreign feeling.
You stay in that position, slowly getting drunk on his pheromones. Your eyes droop, fighting sleep, but the exhaustion from running away from scary alphas has finally caught up to you. Before you know it, your head dips against his shoulder, breath evening out as your fingers lose their grip on the heat pack.
Heeseung swallows. He doesn’t dare move. From the proximity, he can smell your fruity hair wash, blending smoothly with your scent.
It’s so unfair. Every inch of you smells really good, whether it’s your natural scent or the products that you use. It’s like every inch of your skin decides that you only deserve to smell the best, and Heeseung himself can’t help but agree too. It’s so unfair.
Heeseung finds his hands hover awkwardly in the air, hesitating for a second before settling carefully on your head. His fingers thread through your hair, slower this time.
“Don’t feel scared anymore,” he mumbles, gently caressing the dark strands of your hair.
It’s me who should feel scared.
His fingers freeze in your hair.
Scared. He is scared.
This is not him. If Riki or Jay were to walk in to see him in this state, they’d drag him to the nearest police station and demand they find the real Heeseung. The normal Heeseung. The usual Heeseung.
The Heeseung that doesn’t stay, or spend his time watching people breathe in their sleep. The Heeseung who’s out the door before the sheets even cool down. The Heeseung that dislikes small touches like these; like caressing the hair of the girl he just saved, because the only physical touch he brands himself with is sex.
Not this. Not whatever this is.
He wants to move, but his body doesn’t listen—he stays despite himself. His wolf, like it’s found something it’s been looking for all along, settles deeper instead, quiet and satisfied. You nuzzle closer into his body and Heeseung feels his chest tighten.
Something uneasy creeps up his spine.
This should feel suffocating. It should itch under his skin, make him want to pull away, shake you off, leave.
But it doesn’t. It feels easy. Too easy, in fact.
And it scares the shit out of him.
When your senses return to you, the first thing that greets you is someone’s scent.
Warm, spicy cinnamon and calm, salty sea air.
The memory follows not long after; of angry frowns and disgusting smirks that make your skin crawl. Amidst it all, a familiar face flashes in your mind and you feel your heart stutter.
Heeseung.
The pulse in your wrist thuds violently, as if not letting you forget the owner of the pheromones now wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You faintly remember, in your subconscious, being carried to a car and your roommate, Yujin, hugging you in panic. Unconsciously, you pull your blanket closer to your chest.
Did Heeseung send you home? Did he really…scent-mark you to help you?
You bite your lips between your teeth. The clarity is palpable now that the haziness of pheromones and distress are no longer around. There’s no way an alpha—a dominant one, at that—is willing to scent-mark an omega he has no connections to. The implications are more than the action itself. Heeseung surely knows about that, right?
It feels like a dream. It has to be a dream.
What a capable alpha, your wolf preens. Shut up, you hiss.
Then, as if the universe was insistent to prove you wrong, your eyes land on a plastic bag placed neatly on top of your vanity, a damning evidence of last night’s incident.
No way.
Your brain swirls with possibilities and your own made-up theories that it has started to throb faintly. Before you could lose your sanity, thread by unraveling thread, you rush to the bathroom to, hopefully, get rid of his scent, even when your omega begs you not to.
Unfortunately for the human-you, the cinnamon trails after you even post-showers. It clings to your clothes when you change and it doesn’t let you go even as you sit for breakfast prepared by your doting roommate. It’s strange, really. No one’s scent ever clung to you so stubbornly like this, like a chewing gum latching on shoe soles. You always cuddle with Yujin and even her green tea pheromones never stay with you after washing up.
“It’s a bit odd, yes,” Yujin munches through a mouthful of her own signature pancake. “But it’s not totally out-of-this-world. His scent will fade by this evening, I promise.”
You chew painfully slowly, eyes going wide at another possibility. “You don’t think that I conjured some kind of bond with him, right?”
It’s common knowledge that a thin, fragile bond can be easily formed when an alpha and an omega scent each other, mated or not. After all, context and intention are greatly considered, whether it’s meant for familiarity, protection, or possessiveness—each one will determine how long it’ll last.
You pull at the sleeves of your cardigan, a telltale sign of your anxiousness. The same wilting daisies accent of your scent from the night before comes back, signalling your impending distress. Yujin drops her fork and reaches a hand to yours.
“Hey, hey. Calm down for a sec, Y/N.”
“It’s just,” you swallow harshly, your traitorous mind replaying the scene from last night. Your heart thumps at the base of your throat. “I don’t know—fuck. I forced him to do this. And—and despite the circumstances, he still helped me and now…now I think…”
Your eyes turn glassy, reminded of the wolf residing deep inside you.
“I think my omega might like him.”
Yujin is silent for a moment, assessing the right words to say. It’s obvious to everyone on campus of the nature of Lee Heeseung. He’s not exactly the alpha you’d seek for companionship or commitment; he seems to be allergic to those things.
And to get your wolf to like him…well, let’s say that you’re already set for thousand-words of angst and a life of yearning. Yujin isn’t exactly fond of the idea of dishing out what you already knew. You already seem restless enough with your own thoughts.
“Okay. That’s valid.” Yujin starts slowly, treading through every syllable like a mother to her kindergartener son. “He’s super attractive. It’s understandable. But you can, you know—unlike him.”
You perk up at that, though the doubt clouding your face is more prominent now. “How?”
“Find a better alpha,” Yujin shrugs, as if explaining the world’s simplest equation. “For the record, I do think Heeseung’s a good guy, just not in the romantic department. I don’t know why your wolf is picking a fuckboy out of all alphas, but taste is subjective.”
“It’s because he stepped up and protected me!” You deflect and pause, realising how defensive of him you have become. Yujin raises a brow and you sigh, defeated, slumping in your seat.
“Fuck. Now my omega hates you for badmouthing him.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“Just kill me.”
Yujin shoots you a small smile, pushing your now-cold plate closer to you. You reluctantly take a bite. “Why not someone else, though? You could ask literally any other alpha, like—” Yujin pauses and it takes her less than a second to pick a name. “Jay. Like Jay. He’s like, the safest option, the greenest flag. But why Heeseung? And don’t tell me it’s because he was the only one there—you could’ve just barged in and found someone else. It’s a freaking nightclub.”
You freeze, unmoving for a slow second. There is, of course, an answer to that. One that you admittedly avoid to admit, because admitting it will admit that there is something underneath that only you know, and you admit that it’s scary to admit that. Fuck this admission! Yujin wouldn’t make fun of you, right?
“I…” You trail off, second-guessing your decision. Should you really tell your roommate? Seeing the eager look on her face, with her sweet, cute dimples showing up, you decide that people with dimples should be banned from this world. Promptly, you’re reminded of your junior—an alpha with Jungwon or something as his name. The both of them possessed dimples that could make any alpha (or omega) drop down to their knees.
Alas, you force yourself to tell the truth.
“I smelled him for afar.” You watch carefully for Yujin’s reaction. “Like, from outside. While I was running from those scary alphas.”
Yujin contemplates. “Did you feel some kind of a pull towards him?”
You don’t even contemplate. “Yes.”
“Holy shit,” Yujin laughs, her grin turning giddy. “This shit is actually real?!”
“What is?!” You frown, not liking being kept in the dark. A playful punch lands on Yujin’s shoulder, who’s now throwing her head back in laughter. Unconsciously, a pout is formed on your lips.
“What is it? Tell me!”
“It’s just, there’s this joke going around,” Yujin hiccups between every inhale, “that an omega will eventually crave for his knot. I can’t believe it’s happening to you!”
The lines in your forehead deepen. You regard your roommate with a look of contempt, thinking of the best spot to hide a body.
“That’s not true. I don’t crave his knot, or whatever it is.” You sigh, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know what? I’m just gonna pretend last night didn’t happen.”
Resigned and defeated, you rise and bring your plate to the sink. Your class doesn’t start until the next three hours, and then the evening is reserved for your new routine practice for the upcoming tournament. The ninety-two unread messages from the group chat are still left unopened; you haven’t had time to review the routine video yet.
You put on your apron and reach for the cabinet. When in distress or deep thoughts, other than nesting in your bedroom, you often opt to stress-bake instead. The scent of baked goods always puts you at ease, and it blends sweetly with your daisies and honey pheromones. Everyone who knows you knows to empty their stomach and be ready for a mass sweet-feeding whenever you’re in your stressed baker mode.
Behind you, Yujin’s laughter dies in her throat. Then, a question that stops you in your tracks comes.
“Hey, you don’t think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates, right?”
Fated mates. The words settle like a heavy blanket, pressing you down with its weight and keeping you warm altogether.
It’s sacred. It’s ancient. It’s something that you never speak of lightly, afraid that a slip of a tongue would taint the purity of such a bond. Against all odds and critiques on the concept of fated mates, you’re part of the minority who believed in it, no matter how foolish or ridiculous it may sound.
You believe in fated mates. You believe in the name written in the stars, in the love that has been shaped and created just to cherish you. You believe in spending the rest of your life looking for a face that your heart would recognise in a heartbeat, feeling that inevitable pull like you’re each other’s missing half.
But after last night, do you think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates?
Heeseung, who’s always made it clear to everyone about his relationship with commitments?
Heeseung, who never shies away when the boys tease him about the girls he sleeps with?
You’re never one to judge someone’s sex life, but you might be a little too concerned about how they view a long-term, committed relationship. Because that’s what you’ve been looking for.
An alpha who’s not afraid to love you loudly. An alpha whose instincts are to love and protect you.
Sometimes, you really envy mated couples. You envy how loyal Riki is of his girlfriend, craving the same kind of devotion to be directed to you. You envy how proud Taesan is to show off his mating mark, like it’s a badge of honour and love that promises forever.
Eventually, your mind drifts to Heeseung. The captain of the basketball team. Someone who deceives people with how approachable he seems, but is actually the most detached.
Heeseung is a perfect and capable alpha. You’ve seen it.
He leads his team with the kind of leadership that becomes a glue, keeping the team together no matter what challenges they’re going through. You know that he’s from the music department, and there are a few songs with his name being credited as the producer, composer, lyricist—you name it. Heeseung is a dominant alpha and uses his authority well, and he knows how to fend for himself.
You admire him, you really do.
But will he devote himself to you? Will he look only for you in a crowd of beautiful omegas, and beautiful omegas who have spent the night with him? Does he share the same sentiment as you when it comes to fated mates?
The churn in your stomach provides an answer clearer than any of your exams had ever done.
You let Yujin’s question fade in the background, letting yourself lose in your element—baking and baking and baking until it feels like you could feed a whole team of athletes. Which is what Yujin has suggested before she leaves for her lab session, after saving a big jar of cookies for herself.
Fated mates.
What a scary thought.
For the first time in his life, Heeseung is actively avoiding omegas.
It’s not any omegas, though. It’s only you. But since it’s you, it’s actually a pretty big deal to him.
Heeseung doesn’t play favourites. He doesn’t believe in fated mates, remember? But last night left a lasting impact in the form of your scent still clinging to him this morning, even after showering. Not to mention how excited his wolf has been when realising that it’s you.
It’s you, for fuck’s sake! The one who rejected him one year ago, and, admittedly, one of the prettiest omegas on campus. You might as well be every alpha’s ideal type. Well, maybe not Riki, that man is proudly claimed and fiercely loyal to his mate. But it’s definitely the case for him and Jay.
Knowing his best friend, Heeseung’s sure you’re just Jay’s type. And his. No. He didn’t say that. He doesn’t have a type, remember?
As if to make it worse, you also have a scent that might just be his favourite one yet. The same scent that is currently invading his senses, dampening other pheromones in the court despite being on opposite ends from you. The same scent that his wolf decides to pick up and single out the moment he steps foot in the campus, recognising you before his eyes can even see you first. The same scent that still lingers in his lungs, mingling with his cinnamon and sea breeze notes like dancing partners.
Yeah, Heeseung is starting to think that he’s slowly going insane.
“Dude, stop staring. You’re scaring them.”
Heeseung blinks, Jay’s voice successfully snapping him out of whatever omega-spell that you have casted on him. Yeap, he nods. It’s definitely that. You’re actually a witch. There’s no other explanation to this other than that.
A blob of freshly-dyed blonde hair pops up beside Jay. “Hyung showed up smelling like daisies and honey and suddenly he’s staring at the cheerleaders like they owe him money.” Riki teases, then grins when he realises something. “Wait, that kinda rhymes—”
“I’m not staring!” Heeseung almost shouts, belatedly realising that he, indeed, has been staring at the group of cheerleaders stretching across the court. Or, to be more precise, he’s been staring at you. He glares at Riki.
“Okay. So why do you smell like one of them then? What’s her name again, Jay hyung?”
Heeseung grumbles. “It’s no one—”
“Y/N.”
“Yes, that one. The shy one.”
Heeseung groans. He kicks Riki’s shins and makes a show of turning his back facing the cheerleaders. But for some reasons he refuses to admit, as if he has eyes on the back of his head, he still can point where you’re standing just from his senses alone.
These stupid, useless alpha senses.
At least Jay takes pity on him. “Your Heeseung hyung saved her from perverts last night. He scented her to calm her down because she was reacting pretty badly.”
Heeseung mentally thanks Jay and continues warming up. He opts to just watch his teammates dribble and stretch just like him. The faint hum of scent neutraliser—a new, advanced one, thanks to that incident with Riki’s girlfriend—rumbles slowly. Somewhere behind him, he can hear you laugh and taste the sweet spike in your scent on his tongue. Heeseung grits his teeth.
What is wrong with his wolf? Please get your tail together.
Riki, on the other hand, is intrigued. “Really? Did it happen after I left? Who were those alphas?”
“Some idiots from that team we beat last night.”
Riki frowns, clearly displeased with the news he just heard. “Well, I’ll keep my eyes on them. How did Heeseung hyung find her?”
Jay shrugs and shoots him a look. Heeseung really hopes he can slap that annoying smirk off his face one day. “Dunno. Ask him. His alpha probably recognised her from miles away.”
Heeseung doesn’t like what that sentence implies. “Shut up. It’s just instinct. Normal alpha-omega reaction.”
“Keep lying to yourself. I can practically see your tail wagging when you smelled your pheromones on her just now.”
“I didn’t—” Heeseung closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down despite the sudden flare of defensiveness exploding in his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s so reactive and not in his usual calm composure, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with you. Jay and Riki snicker.
“The only people that believe in fated mates are you two idiots. Do you know that?”
“Yeah, I know,” Riki snorts and looks at him, amused. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have a fated mate. That shit is rare. It’s like finding my size in Calvin Klein.”
Jay frowns. “I don’t see the correlation.”
“There is. My dick is just too big, hyung. There’s no size for me—”
“I don’t need to know that!” Jay slaps at Riki’s shoulders while the younger alpha only lets out a full-body laugh. “Save that information for your girlfriend, Riki. I didn’t raise you like this.”
“She already knows that.”
“Nishimura Riki!”
Heeseung is back to zoning out, his energy is suddenly drained out of his soul. That’s usually the case when you have to deal with a Nishimura Riki and a Park Jongseong on a daily basis. His mind, choosing to move at the pace of a snail today, is replaying Riki’s words back like a broken loop.
The realisation hits him five seconds late. “Wait. Did you mean that you and your girlfriend are not…fated mates? I thought you were!”
Riki is trapping Jay in a headlock when he answers. “Nope. We only imprinted on each other from early on because we’re childhood friends.”
“So like…what’s the difference?” Heeseung pauses and hesitates for a moment. He glances at you and then thinks, fuck it. If curiosity didn’t kill the cat then it’ll definitely kill him. “Can you smell your girlfriend in a sea of people?”
Riki scrunches his nose, his hands busy play-fighting with Jay. Heeseung ignores them like it’s a daily occurrence to see them act this way. Which is probably not far from the truth. “Not really? If they’re too many people, like right now, with your stench and too many omega scents—it’s difficult to find her.” Jay tackles his side and Riki yelps. “B-But it’s getting better after the mating bite, though—Jay hyung! I just got my tattoo there!”
“So…you can’t like…” Heeseung licks his lips, his throat suddenly dry. He has a feeling that he’s not going to like the answer Riki’s going to give him once he finishes his sentence. Jay is now on the floor while Riki is pulling him by the legs and dragging him around like a used rug.
“You can’t single her out from her scent alone?”
There. He said it. His two idiotic friends will catch on it and grill him for the problem he partially caused. The other part is, no doubt, his wolf’s fault for deciding to like one single scent. You’re not at fault at all. Never. Wait, who said that?
Riki is breathless from the laughter and play-fight, but he still manages to listen and answer, thanks to his alpha senses. If he finds Heeseung’s questions strange, he only shares his suspicion through a knowing look with Jay.
“Sometimes. Like I said, it’s only when the crowd isn’t too big and when she’s in the same room as me.” Riki finally spares Heeseung a glance, tilting his head in a feigned curiosity. “Why are you asking, hyung? Did you smell Y/N from miles away or something?”
How the fuck did that idiot know?
Heeseung looks away from the teasing grin thrown his way. He really doesn’t like this. “No,” he grumbles. “I’m just afraid if I might be Jay’s fated mate because his pheromones are fucking everywhere.”
“Hey! What the fuck did I do to you?!”
Riki bursts out laughing and high-fives Heeseung with a cheeky smile. On the floor, Jay is already huffing and sulking, mumbling something about ‘always catching strays’ and ‘citrusy pheromones aren’t smelly’. Heeseung sighs quietly when the topic takes a turn into a debate about who has the best smelling pheromones, which is an easy win for Riki, if Heeseung’s going to be honest.
Don’t tell Jay though. Heeseung doesn’t want to lose his passenger princess privilege so soon.
Much to his relief, it’s already time for practice. Heeseung tries to ignore the prickle in his neck coming from your direction as you and your fellow cheerleaders leave the gym to go to your own practice room. He fights the urge to look back, to stride forward and ask you to stay—which is insane, by the way, what the fuck is wrong with him?
Before he slips into his captain mode, however, Jay approaches him with a more serious look on his face. “Calm your flat tits, Hee. It’s normal for her scent to linger; you kinda scented her aggressively to protect her last night.”
Heeseung weakly nods. Jay pats his shoulder. “A deep bond can’t be conjured just from scenting alone, unless you’re fated mates.”
This time, Heeseung doesn’t move, his tension visible in the rigid lines of his posture, the frantic movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
“Yeah,” he croaks, his pulse louder than his own voice. “Hope not.”
Practice goes on for the next two hours. Heeseung eventually falls into routine, finding himself lost in adrenaline and competitiveness. The thoughts of you cease for a moment, replaced by his quick-thinking strategy and sharp reflexes. He keeps dribbling, scoring, and making passes, not even aware of the ticking clock or when the cheerleader squad comes back in to take a break.
The last whistle finally blows before the players dramatically fall in a heap of sweaty, breathless alphas. The practice was particularly grueling, which made his body ache and his shirt clung to his skin. The coach is on fire today, all because his wife has been giving him a silent treatment. Apparently, he forgot to buy diapers on his way home last night.
Source: Nishimura Nosy.
“I think I might die,” Jay huffs, claiming a bench all to himself. His chest rises and falls in a rapid motion. “But even as a ghost, I bet the coach would still unearth my grave to force me to practice.”
“I’ll be Ghost Number Two.” Heeseung deadpans, lying down on the bench next to Jay. The latter continues to talk about something else, which Heeseung would know and remember if he didn’t get distracted by daisies and honey.
Fuck. You’re in the court again.
The urge to corner you, to grab your wrist and ask if you were okay, crawls under his skin again—restless, unrelenting.
Heeseung isn’t stupid. He knows last night, ugly as it was, doesn’t just fade by morning. His alpha has been clawing at him since then, sharp and impatient, demanding he go to you.
But Heeseung doesn’t move.
For once, he’s a coward.
He shoves it down, buries it deep, treating his own wolf like a disease he refuses to catch.
Heeseung blinks at the ceiling in an active effort to not start looking for you and staring at you like a creep. This time, he wonders quietly why your scent smells stronger than before. Perhaps the adrenaline from your routine. But even so, you don’t only smell strong, but you also smell closer—
“Free cookies!”
Heeseung jolts in surprise and whips his head in the direction of that voice. Or, precisely, your voice. His heart, as if trying to shorten his life span, decides not to take a break from the session just now and continues beating even faster.
There, just a few paces away from him, is you, standing in the middle of the court with one of your cheerleader friends. In her hold, there’s a purple Tupperware, its lid nowhere to be found. You stand slightly behind your friend, shyly looking over her shoulders as she talks to his teammates.
“Oh my God, they brought us cookies?!” Jay is already standing up, stretching lazily like a cat. “C’mon, Hee. It’s free cookies.”
Heeseung’s quick to refuse, despite his wolf begging him to go. “Nah—”
But before he can spit out any excuses, Jay is already dragging him, his weeks spent in the gym working out with Riki are finally paying off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Take your portion and give it to me.”
Heeseung groans. He really should start joining their workout session. He can’t be manhandled by his two best friends easily like this.
Distracted, Heeseung fails to register the decreasing distance between you and him. It’s only when your scent spikes sweetly, which hits him in the face like a fucking tidal wave, does he catch your eyes and realises that, fuckfuckfuck she’s here ohmyGod—
“Hi, Jay. Hi, Heeseung.”
Wait hold on, why does his name sound even more beautiful coming from your voice?
He stands like a flag pole beside Jay, actively avoiding your eyes while being fully aware of that pretty pair staring at his face. The floor suddenly looks very interesting, with skid marks from their shoes and some sweat trails. Okay. Ew. That’s gross.
“Hey, pretty ladies.” Jay greets, flashing his attractive smile as he gestures at the container. “Heard there’s free cookies for the taking? Mind if we have some?”
Smooth as ever, Jay doesn’t even realise how easily he has charmed your friend with his simple greeting. Poor omega is already blinking rapidly, almost bouncing on her toes as she practically shoves the Tupperware into Jay’s chest.
“Yes! Yes, of course you can, Jay. There’s only little left! Take them all!”
Your eyes, fixated on Heeseung since he arrived, tries to search his face as you shyly interrupt, whispering into your friend’s ear.
“Offer some to Heeseung too…”
Heeseung doesn’t know whether to curse or thank the Goddess for his advanced dominant-alpha senses, because overhearing those words…it makes his chest feel warm and tight at the same time.
But your friend doesn’t pay you any mind, urging Jay to take the Tupperware from her. Jay, ever the gentleman but still a little shameless shit when it comes to food, takes it from her eager hands. He takes one bite and immediately lights up.
“This is so good! I love that it’s not too sweet.”
Like a mirror reflecting light, you beam widely, returning Jay’s enthusiasm. Heeseung tries to ignore the ugly twist in his chest. “Really? That’s…good to hear.”
“She made these, by the way!” Your friend proudly announces, which makes red blooms across your cheeks, ducking your head down slightly. You’re so shy, so pretty, Heeseung can’t stop staring.
And so good at baking. Such a perfect omega, his wolf continues. Shut the fuck up, Heeseung hisses.
“You’re really good at this, Y/N,” Jay interrupts his internal war, his voice sounding wrong in his ears. “Care to share the recipe?”
Now, is Jay flirting with you? Since when does his voice sound like that?
Heeseung tries to inhale, attempting to calm his fucking irrational wolf down, but all he can smell is the sugary scent of yours, tangling delicately and blending seamlessly with his spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze. Somewhere in his chest, his heartstrings soften, drunk in the perfect mix of your pheromones, a ghost of a mark from last night.
Maybe that’s what possessed him to snatch the Tupperware from Jay.
Heeseung wastes no time and starts munching two cookies at once, ignoring the gasps from you and your friend and the bombastic side-eye from his fellow alpha friend. The flavour of buttery vanilla and sweet chocolate chips melt on his tongue and Heeseung almost purrs at the taste.
Outside, he makes an effort to look calm.
“These are good,” he comments coolly, trying to make it sound more like a statement than a compliment (he’s failing). This time, he dares himself to meet your eyes, and has to force down another purr when he sees the sparkles in your eyes. “Thank you, Y/N.”
There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest when the blush in your cheeks deepen. You quickly look down to the floor, mumbling softly that could’ve been missed had it not been for his senses.
What kind of pull is this? Why is every sense of his attuned to you? Heeseung swears he can smell the subtle spike of your scent, the sound of your heartbeat and your soft breathing. It’s like his whole body has decided that it wants to worship you.
And Heeseung doesn’t worship. Fuck. This is terrifying.
“Thank you, Heeseung…”
There. Your voice again. Heeseung swallows. His grip on the Tupperware tightens. Seeing you under this light, flushed and softly smiling to the ground while sneaking glances at him—it undoes him in ways he never dared imagine.
The question is already at the tip of his tongue without his realisation. ‘Are you okay? Does what happened last night still bother you?’ The urge to comfort and soothe, now growing like a rolling snowball, threatening to spill from his mouth.
And the scary part is: Heeseung isn’t sure if that desire comes from his wolf or himself.
However, he never gets the chance to, because Jay with his perfect, universe-timing is already pulling him backwards. “Thank you for the cookies! We’ll eat them well!”
Heeseung reluctantly nods, the grip he has on the Tupperware turning knuckle-white.
“What the fuck was that?” Jay whisper-yells when they’re out of earshot, walking back to their previous spot. “And those are not only for you. Give them back to me!”
Heeseung dodges his grabby hand. “Why the fuck are you eating more?” He asks, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice.
“Didn’t they give all ten of them to us?”
“You’ve had two.”
“And you’ve had five!”
“I don’t care. These are mine.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
That’s what it takes for Heeseung to freeze in his tracks. Seeing an opening, Jay quickly snatches the Tupperware from his grasp and runs back to his spot on the bench, not forgetting to flip off the burgundy-haired alpha as he does so.
Heeseung is losing his fucking mind.
Sighing, Heeseung closes his eyes, a faint trail of daisies and honey still clinging to his senses. Even across the room, among the murmur of the gossiping cheerleaders, it’s your voice, the only one clear and crisp to his ears.
I’m being ridiculous.
This isn’t me.
Slowly, his human side starts taking over, all flowery images of you vanish within seconds.
Fuck, he curses. He wishes this scent-marking will be gone by tomorrow morning.
Three mornings later, much to his dismay, your scent still clings to him. On the bright side, it has been notably fading, now only the remnants of daisies and honey underneath cinnamon and sea air; like crunched petals along the shoreline, waiting to be washed away.
Against his own judgment, however, his wolf is fucking devastated.
He’s been whining like a kicked puppy ever since he walked to practice this morning and couldn’t smell his scent on you instantly. He still can spot you from two buildings away, which is still strange, but the lack of spice and salt in your scent is what does it. Heeseung has to fight the urge to march towards you and start scenting you.
His wolf has been restless. And, inevitably, it puts Heeseung in a terrible mood, too. He never knew his wolf was that desperate.
Practice ends late that night. With the tournament just around the corner, everyone is being a little shit at managing their emotions and competitiveness on the court—the downside of having an all-alpha team that people rarely talk about.
Heeseung is not excluded from the equation, though. He almost threw the ball to Taesan’s knot and made his omega pups-less and pregnancy-free when he accidentally made a bad pass. The court had smelled like tension and a barely held-together brotherhood when he left before a cheerleader came up to him to flirt and he wasted no time to drag her to an empty classroom.
Now, Heeseung finds himself making out with that omega, tongue licking up into her mouth while she breathlessly moans into his. It’s been five days since his last fuck, and while he usually can go on without sex for weeks (one month was his best record), he’s been at his wit’s end today. Add the confusion and silent wars he’s been having about you into the mix, and Heeseung is nothing more than a stressed body waiting to be relieved.
Weirdly enough, the frustration he hopes to get rid of stays as frustration. The old sparks he usually feels when having this intimate moment with an omega seems to disappear tonight. In the back of his mind, like a looming cloud carrying a storm, is a hazy image of teary eyes and red, trembling lips.
Something stirs uneasily in his chest.
His huge, veiny hands slip under her skirt and find purchase on her cunt, gathering the slick leaking from her arousal. Her scent spikes as she bucks up her hips and, to Heeseung’s own surprise, he recoils from the smell of it and breaks the kiss. The girl doesn’t stop her advances, switching to kiss down his long neck instead.
He subconsciously scrunches up his nose, his finger halting its movement for a second.
“What perfume are you wearing?” He asks, voice hoarse from the makeout session. He tilts his head back, allowing access and finding stimulation, but the usual thrill is a bit dull tonight.
“My pheromones,” she manages between kisses, “you like it?”
It’s quite the opposite, to be honest. Heeseung finds himself hating it. It’s too sweet. Too sharp. It sits wrong in his nose, burns at the back of his throat, like inhaling smoke for the first time. His eyes water.
There’s something wrong. He’s not enjoying this.
And to make things worse and more confusing, his chest hurts. It constricts, like his lungs decide to shrink into a ball of unexplained pain. Heeseung’s breath stutters, almost doubling over. His mind is a frantic buzz of noise, chanting something that he can’t seem to fully register yet.
Not my omega. Not daisies. Not honey.
Heeseung feels something twist in his gut.
The nameless omega—he forgot to ask for her name—doesn’t notice the shift yet, the way Heeseung is already a frozen statue of confusion and frustration in her embrace. She continues, trailing down hot, wet kisses along the prominent line of his collarbone and sucks the tender skin.
“Ow!” Heeseung yelps, instinctively pushing her away. The spot stings like a pulsing heartbeat, void of any pleasure that it usually would give. He staggers backwards once.
The girl frowns, clearly not happy being pushed like that. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”
“I—” Heeseung hisses, his shirt sitting wrong on his skin, her scent smelling wrong in his nose. He shakes his head. “Shit. I’m sorry, I—I have somewhere to be.”
The girl scoffs, disbelieving. “What?! Heeseung, you can’t just—”
But Heeseung can, and he already does. The alpha is out of the room in the next minute, deliberately the calls of his name and the strings of insults that come from behind him. He makes a run for it.
What the fuck did just happen? Heeseung is never one to refuse a good time with omega, but his wolf is quiet tonight. Too quiet, like it’s being silent on purpose in solidarity for something he’s yet to know—or yet to realise.
The hazy image comes back to his mind, slowly becoming sharp and clear. Heeseung thinks his lungs have turned into bricks when he realises that he’s been imagining you. That his head has been loud with the thoughts of you, even when he’s with someone else.
Why? Why is this happening? Why you?
Heeseung makes a turn to where the locker room is, planning to grab his duffel and leave, when he bumps into Riki and Jay, freshly out of the shower.
“Heeseung hyung?” A shirtless Riki calls his name, then raises a brow when he sees his condition. “Was wondering where you were. But those lipstick stains told me enough.”
Heeseung wipes his neck harshly. Wordlessly, he yanks his locker open and checks himself out in a mirror. He turns his face left and right, yanking down his under eyes, then sighs. Riki and Jay exchange looks. The air is slowly thickening with the pheromones of a distressed alpha, coming from none other than Heeseung.
“You good, mate?” Jay decides to ask him. Heeseung doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he’s as good as he wants himself to be. The alpha lets out another sigh and slams the door closed.
“I think something is definitely wrong with me.”
“Is it practice?” Jay softens his voice, already switching on his therapist-friend mode. “Hee, today’s just that day. Everybody was losing their shits, it’s not just you.”
Heeseung leans his back on the locker and tilts his head upwards. “It’s not that. I mean it biologically. Ever since—” Heeseung pauses, suddenly unsure if saying out loud would make things right. But Riki and Jay have already caught onto it.
“Ever since what?”
Heeseung chooses to deflect. “Look, I was trying to make out with this one pretty omega just now. But no matter how much kissing we did, I just couldn’t enjoy it.” Heeseung points to his sweatpants. Riki and Jay curiously follow with their eyes. “She was practically sucking my tongue and I’m not even bricked up, man!”
Riki furrows his eyebrows. “Not even a spark?”
Heeseung shakes his head. “I couldn’t feel anything. At all. Only,” he swallows harshly. “I only felt disgusted. By her.”
Silence hangs in the room at his revelation. Riki’s expression morphs into something akin to genuine surprise, while Jay only stares at him with a gaping mouth before he starts typing on his phone.
“This is dead serious. You can’t have sex without your dick. That's like a banana cake without bananas.”
Heeseung and Riki grimace. “Please don’t ever compare my dick to a banana again.”
“Or a banana cake.” Riki slaps his shoulder. “That’s my favourite, hyung. Don’t be gross.”
Jay waves a dismissive hand, eyes still glued on his phone. “Right, right. Anyway, I texted Sunoo.”
Heeseung’s eyes go wide like saucer plates at the name and groans. “Sunoo?! Jay, you know he’s still mad at me.”
“I know, but he’s the only one who probably knows the answer to this.” Jay smacks his lips when he reads a new text from Sunoo. “He’s staying back for a lab session. Let’s go to the medicine building.”
And that’s how Heeseung finds himself cramped into a tiny booth of a ramyeon stall, located by the road near the faculty of medicine. A pouty Sunoo is sitting across from him, shooting him his foxy side-eyes as he whines at Jay.
“Jay hyung, why did you bring this traitor with you?” Sunoo pulls at the sleeves of Jay’s hoodie, sulking away from Heeseung. It’s only the three of them since Riki had gone home with his girlfriend just now. “I thought the three of us would include you, me, and Riki.”
Jay sighs exasperatedly. “I had to, Sunoo. That traitor is having a critical dick malfunction and he needs your help.”
The waitress arrives with three bowls of steaming ramyeon. Jay and Sunoo pause their not-so-quiet argument and help her place the bowls on their table. She clears her throat awkwardly, and takes a quick glance at Heeseung before leaving. Heeseung groans internally.
Great. Now words about him and his dick problem will spread around the campus.
“Is STD finally catching up with you?”
Heeseung should know that it was never that easy to get Sunoo off his back. That boy is a professional pouty sulk-er, he’ll never let Heeseung go easily. Not after harassing him with his sass, at least. Heeseung holds back a sigh, already resigned and defeated.
With a grim voice, he apologises to the brown-haired alpha. For the fifth time.
“Sunoo, I am so sorry. I know it was my fault, but for the record, I didn’t know you were serious about pretending to be an omega. Why would you even do that, anyway?”
“Because I like the attention!” Sunoo is fast to defend himself, his pout only deepening. “And because alphas will only spoil me if I was their pretty little soft omega—which I am not! And you exposing my secondary gender to that alpha just ruined my chance to be with him. Who would even call their friend, ‘my cutie little fake omega’, anyway?!”
“I was drunk!”
“A drunk traitor is still a traitor!”
Heeseung turns to Jay, sending him signals to help him out. But his best friend deliberately ignores him, too engrossed in his own bowl, pretending to be a wall. Heeseung rolls his eyes and looks back at Sunoo.
It might not be that easy to console the sulky boy, but Heeseung is labelled a sweet talker for a reason.
“You’re already a pretty alpha, Sunoo. Prettier than any omega I know. Anyone would drop everything for you even if they knew you weren’t an omega.”
Like a switch being flipped, the frown on Sunoo’s melts away, replaced by a beam so wide it shows off his perfect teeth.
“Aw, Heeseungie hyung. You’re now forgiven. Now tell me about this dick problem of yours.”
Jay and Heeseung look at each other and relax into their chairs in relief. Heeseung sends him a look of, ‘That was easy,’ to which Jay raises his eyebrow, ‘Why hadn’t you done it sooner?’
Now, with Sunoo not threatening to kill the burgundy-haired alpha anymore, Heeseung can finally enjoy a few bites of his untouched ramyeon. It’s already a bit cold and soggy, but the broth makes up for it. He retells the story to Sunoo between bites, watching the ever expressive boy react to it with various expressions.
“It’s not uncommon, though. But since it’s you, it must have felt very concerning.” Sunoo hums in thought, tapping his full lips with the thinnest tips of his chopsticks. “Well, Heeseungie hyung, did you imprint on any omegas?”
Heeseung hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head, feeling Jay’s eyes on him.
“No.”
“Hm, okay. Even if it’s due to imprints, it has to come from both sides,” Sunoo rubs his chin, now looking every bit a live action of Detective Conan, minus the glasses. “Did you conjure a bond with anyone? Maybe accidentally?”
Heeseung’s lips part. “I…would’ve known, right?”
“Right.” Sunoo nods firmly, then tilts his head. “Did you scent one of your hookups, then?”
“An almost-hookup,” Jay cuts in, clearly enjoying this interrogation. Heeseung shoots him a look. Jay is always out to rat him out and he’s actually so close to disowning him.
He grunts. “Just…someone.”
Sunoo smiles in amusement. “So you did scent someone. Was it someone you like?”
“Define like.”
“Like them enough to want to kiss them. Like them enough to want to fuck them. Like them enough to even want to scent them to begin with.” Sunoo shrugs. “Pick one.”
Heeseung closes his eyes. Does he like you? Wanting to kiss and fuck someone don’t equal to liking them. Because if that was true, then there’s no other explanation to Heeseung ‘liking’ every omega he has fucked other than him having an insanely big heart—which he doesn’t. He liked the sex and their company; that was all there was to it.
Which leaves him option number three.
Heeseung’s never the guy to sit with his feelings—at least not the romantic kind. You’re an unfamiliar territory; something that he deliberately avoids his entire life, simply because he never sees settling down with a mate as a desirable goal or accomplishment. And, perfectly hidden under his fuckboy persona is also a thin layer of fear.
Fear of getting hurt by the thing that’s supposed to be love.
But does he like you?
Maybe he does. He’s always liked the way you laugh; you always cover your mouth with one hand when you do, like your smile is only visible in the privacy of those who really know you. He’s always noticed the way you touch the tip of your nose when people’s eyes are on you. He’s always thought the natural blush that you have when you’re shy is adorable.
In that one single minute, Heeseung realises that he’s been paying attention to you more than he thought he did.
Fuck. He does like you.
But does liking have to lead to being mated?
That responsibility is way taller and heavier than him and Heeseung is beyond freaked out.
“Earth to Heeseungie hyung?”
“Why does it even matter? What does it even have to do with me not getting a boner during a makeout session?” Heeseung demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. Is Sunoo punishing him for being the reason he fumbled that tall, hot alpha two weeks ago? Will Sunoo truly ever forgive him? He already apologised five times!
Sunoo, seeing enough of his hyung’s suffering, finally relents. “Geez, relax. I wasn’t playing with you. I asked because most of the time this happens,” he gestures at Heeseung and his crotch. Heeseung instinctively closes his long legs. “It’s because the wolf has already liked one omega. An omega they recognise as their mate. It’s the only explanation why you felt disgusted just now.”
Mate. That cursed word again. Beside Sunoo, Jay is whistling.
“Sorry. You mean my wolf, my alpha, likes one omega and decides I shouldn’t fuck around anymore?”
Sunoo nods. “Basically, yeah. But it usually isn’t that easy, hyung. A bond has to have been conjured between your wolf and their wolf by any kind of markings.”
“Like?”
“Like biting. Or scenting.”
Scenting. Heeseung didn’t just do scenting with you, he was scent-marking you.
“But that’s impossible,” Jay interrupts, confusion etching onto his handsome features. His leaning forward now, his empty bowl pushed to the center of the table, which reminds Heeseung of his own bowl. The alpha quickly finishes his noodles. “Scenting between unmated alpha and unmated omega will only conjure a temporary, fragile bond. It should’ve been gone by now—the scenting happened five days ago.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I can detect some floral scent in Heeseungie hyung’s pheromones.”
Heeseung almost chokes on his noodles. “You do?”
Sunoo leans forward, squinting his eyes at him like he’s some kind of lab specimen. “Yeah. It’s faint, but it’s there. Sweet. Floral. Clingy.” He tilts his head again. “It’s weird.”
Across from him, Heeseung is frozen. His grip on the chopsticks tightens. He swallows harshly.
Jay leans back, arms crossed. “But if it’s still there after five days—”
“It doesn’t automatically mean fated mates,” Sunoo cuts in quickly, tone sharper this time. He shoots Jay a look before turning back to Heeseung. “Don’t jump to that conclusion. That’s, like, extremely rare. And also very dramatic.”
Heeseung exhales, shoulders dropping just a little.
Right. Dramatic. His alpha begs to differ.
“It could just be a stronger-than-usual temporary bond,” Sunoo continues, more thoughtful now. “Maybe your alpha overdid it when you scented them. Or the omega was in a heightened emotional state, so the bond lasted longer.”
Jay hums, not entirely convinced.
“But the whole not getting turned on thing?” He gestures vaguely. “That still doesn’t explain it fully.”
Sunoo taps his chin again. “Mhm. That part’s interesting.” He levels Heeseung with a curious look. “Who is this girl, anyway? You seem pretty fucked over her.”
Heeseung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you not say it like that? Like I’m some kind of a broken alpha?”
“You kinda are right now,” Sunoo says bluntly.
“Sunoo.”
“I’m serious!” He leans forward again, eyes lighting up. “Your body is rejecting other omegas. That’s not normal for you. Like, at all.”
Heeseung slumps deeper into his seat. As if it’s not already obvious enough, Sunoo just had to spell it out loud.
“I noticed,” he mutters, defeated.
Sunoo softens slightly at that, sighing as he rests his chin on his palm. “Okay. Look. Don’t panic yet.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You’re literally here because your dick stopped working.”
“…Okay, I’m a little panicked.”
Sunoo waves his chopsticks dismissively. “It’s probably not fated mates. If it were, you’d be way worse right now.”
Heeseung stills. “Worse?”
“Yeah,” Sunoo shrugs. “You’d be obsessing. Unable to stay away. Your senses would go crazy. You’d feel everything they feel, more or less.”
Jay slowly turns to look at Heeseung. Heeseung immediately avoids his gaze. That fucker is always eager to catch his ‘Gotcha!’ moment, it irritates him to the core.
“That doesn’t sound like me,” he says a bit too quickly, the lie tasting acidic on his tongue.
Sunoo mustn't know about the knot of uneasiness in his chest. Sunoo mustn’t know about the face that comes to his mind when he’s kissing someone else. None of his friends must know that he’s obsessing right now, itching to flee and find you in the middle of the night.
“Exactly,” Sunoo nods, unaware of his friend’s turmoil. “So relax. I’ll look into it more, yeah? Might be some weird hormonal response or delayed imprint reaction.”
Heeseung lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, okay.”
“Or you can do a try-and-error,” Sunoo suggests, reaching over to pat Heeseung’s shoulder. “Just do what you always do—try hooking up with different omegas. Maybe the one you made out with tonight was just a bad compatibility for you.”
Heeseung perks up at that. Sunoo and Jay, not noticing the shift in the air, are already moving forward with a different topic, completely oblivious to the newly-lit determination now burning up his body.
Just do what you always do.
Right. Heeseung has a high body count for a reason. He decides, with a final resolution, that he should solve this his own way.
If Heeseung spends every night for the next two weeks trying to bed different omegas, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.
If Heeseung fails each time, unable to enjoy every kiss and friction, Sunoo and Jay don't have to know.
If the pain in his chest worsens every time he leaves the barely-warm beds, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.
If Heeseung avoids looking at you, avoids bumping into you, avoids speaking to you—he hopes you don’t know about it.
A quiet voice from his wolf whispers something that he refuses to acknowledge: He hopes you’ll forgive him for being unfaithful.
You’ve been sick for two weeks.
At first it was subtle, like a faint throb in your heart that makes you stop whatever you’re doing. The first time it happened, you were in the middle of a group discussion for an elective subject.
A quiet alpha, or a wolf hybrid named Sunghoon, to be exact, had noticed the way you winced from the pain. He didn’t say anything, but you guessed he told an omega about what he saw because right before you exited the library, one of the girls had passed you a free menstrual pad.
He thought you were experiencing period cramps. You wished it was just period cramps.
Then, it gradually grew to something worse. A sudden stabbing pain in your chest. A twist in your gut, like you were expecting something bad to happen. Sometimes it was random palpitations, where your heart was skipping huge beats, as if you were about to go down on a roller coaster.
Each time it happened, you only placed your palm over your heart, hoping it’d go away. You never understood why, but those pains only came at night, preventing you from getting any good sleep and rest. And each time you tried to close your eyes, there was only one face flashing behind your eyelids.
Heeseung.
Yujin had dragged you to the clinic, but the doctor came to a conclusion that you were just having pre-heat symptoms—which couldn’t be further from the truth, because you just had your cycle one month ago. You’re not supposed to go on your quarterly-cycle of torture for another two months.
“Oh my Goddess, you’re burning up.” Yujin’s palm is cold against your forehead. Her face is pulled into a tight expression. “Let’s just skip today’s classes, okay? I’ll stay with you.”
You weakly nod, barely registering Yujin’s movement around the room. Your body feels like a furnace, the heat simmering in your veins almost rivaling a volcano’s lava. You discard the blanket to get some sort of relief, only to shiver in the cold when the air touches your skin.
After a few minutes of exiting and entering your room, Yujin finally sits by your bed. She helps you with a glass of water and a dosage of paracetamol, careful to wipe any loose drops like a concerned mother. It doesn’t get better, but at least your throat doesn’t feel like it’s being scrubbed with sandpaper anymore.
“How’re you feeling now?”
“Dying, but a bit less dramatic.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to give Suho from True Beauty a run for his money, would we?”
You chuckle softly, though it sounds more like a seal with a sore throat.
“But seriously, though. It’s been two weeks.” Yujin purses her lips, the worriness still marring her beautiful face. “I’m so worried, Y/N. What’s happening to you?”
You don’t answer right away. “It’s my omega.”
Yujin’s eyebrow jumps. “What about her?”
You also wonder the same thing. Swallowing, you finally let your friend in on the torturous days you have been going through. “One night, after our practice ran quite late two weeks ago, she went a bit hysteric. I couldn’t stop vomiting.” You recalled, eyes distant in memory. “She kept yelling something about a traitor, about rejection. I don’t know, really. But that’s how it started.”
“Two weeks ago, at night, you say?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Yujin is quiet for a few extended minutes, caressing her thumb over your knuckles. The motion puts you at ease, and slowly, you feel the pills begin working their chemicals.
“Did you, perhaps, hear about anything that happened that night?” You shake your head, unsure if your cheerleader squad had mentioned anything. Yujin hums. “Because I think I did.”
“What?”
“So I’m friends with this one omega named Sunoo from my faculty. A pretty boy and a petty gossiper.” Yujin starts, now treading her words slowly as if walking on eggshells. “He knows everyone on this campus. Especially the hot stuff, you know—student body, athletes, cheerleaders.” Yujin eyes you but not unkindly. “He knows you too. Just the basic stuff.”
“Like?”
“Your name, your major, your Instagram account.”
You let out a breath, a bit unsure where this is heading, but listen anyway. “Okay.”
“And because of his impeccable knowledge of gossip, I heard from him about a cheerleader breaking down in the group chat after a certain alpha left her mid-making out, all slicked and horny while he didn’t even pop a borner.”
You hold onto her every word, but for some reason, a dread has settled deep in your bones, like your body is already anticipating some bad news. Your heart, previously beating fast, is now sprinting like it might escape your rib now.
“And that alpha was Heeseung.”
It hits before you can even think.
A sharp, twisting pain lances through your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs like you’ve been struck. Your fingers curl into the sheets, clutching at nothing.
Your omega whines—hurt, betrayed. And suddenly, you understand why. The cries about betrayal. His face haunts you every night, like a painful reminder of the destiny you're subjected to.
You try to swallow once, then twice, before you find your voice back.
“Heeseung?” You try. His name now tastes bitter on your tongue.
Yujin, ever the empathetic, senses it, and tightens her hold on your hand. “Yeah,” she nods. She lets a moment of quiet pass, fidgeting and swallowing like you. Like the news has more stories that she’s yet to tell; an extended part to a nightmare that’s been keeping you up at night. You brace yourself.
“And two nights ago I saw him at Jake’s frat party with a girl. Doing sexy stuff. The usual.” Yujin can’t look at your face, choosing to stare at your intertwined hands instead. “The frat boys told me that he’s been at it almost every night. For two weeks.”
Is it possible to hurt someone this much in a span of five minutes? Getting shot multiple times would’ve hurt less than this.
There’s a heavy silence, then there’s your small, quiet voice, laced with unfiltered hurt.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“I’m saying, Y/N, that you might be facing bond rejection symptoms right now.” Yujin licks her lips. “I’m saying that you and Heeseung just might be fated mates. That night he scented you? You guys conjured a half-bond. And him fucking around with other omegas like this hurts your wolf because she knows—only this kind of bond can do that.”
Is having a fated mate supposed to hurt like this? Like your chest is caving in, collapsing under the torment of unwanted love. Can you even call it love? Whatever it is that you and Heeseung unknowingly have been sharing—Is it even love?
It’s not. It’s just…fate.
You shake your head. There’s hot pain behind your eyes, a sign of an impending doom. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.”
A drop of tears rolls down your face and in the next blink, everything is already blurry. “I—I think I already knew it.” Your voice is wet from despair, the pain almost feels tangible. “He never meets my eyes anymore and—and every time I see him, I feel like I might die.”
A warm pair of arms pulls you close, and instantly the scent of green tea fills up your senses. Your roommate holds you tight, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as you sob into her chest.
Your wolf, the contradict that she is, hopes that it was Heeseung embracing you. Still hoping it was the alpha comforting you, soothing you with his voice and that calming pheromones of his. Still foolishly longing for him despite everything.
You feel pathetic.
Your crying subsides after a while, still curling up against Yujin like a hurt puppy. You’re already losing track of time, if it’s still proper to have breakfast or if it’s already time for lunch. It is Yujin who finally speaks first.
“Do you hate it?”
You let the question linger in the air, turning it over in your thoughts like what you’ve been doing the past hour since you woke up. “I don’t hate the bond. Nor him.”
You pause, gnawing at your lower lip. Then you exhale.
“I just hate that I was never given a chance to do this properly.”
Yujin pulls away and makes you face her. She wipes your tears using her sleeves, murmuring sweet words as you feel your chest slightly loosening at her kind gesture. “You might still have it. Go and talk to him, Y/N. If he’s avoiding you like this, he might’ve felt something too, right?”
“If he’s avoiding me like this, he might just not want anything to do with me.” A humourless chuckle escapes your lips. “And to think that I thought I had a chance.”
“Wait, I never asked you this. Do you like Heeseung? Both of you; your wolf and you.”
You don’t answer right away. The question sits between the two of you, heavy and fragile; like a mark refusing to be looked over.
Do you like Heeseung?
Your wolf stirs immediately. Yes, I like him.
The answer is quick. Certain. Definite.
But you purse your lips, forcing yourself to think harder, deeper. Forcing yourself to think about you, not her. You can only come to one conclusion.
“I don’t know,” you whisper, honest. It sounds weak even to your ears. Beside you, Yujin keeps rubbing small, grounding circles over your hand.
“I already know my omega likes him,” you admit softly. “She decided that the moment he stayed and took care of me that night.”
Oh, how pathetic is it to fall for someone for doing something as mundane as staying and taking care of you?
It’s laughable. But it makes your chest ache even more, like your heart was an empty can and fate was crushing it with its tight grip.
“But me…” you continue, voice quieter now, “I don’t even know him like that.”
You shake your head, frustration flickering through your expression.
“I don’t know what he’s like when he’s not surrounded by people, or when he’s not—” you gesture vaguely, like you can scoop up every rumour tied to his name. “That version of him everyone talks about.”
You stare at your hands. “But I wanted to.”
Yujin follows, voice soft. “Wanted to?”
“I wanted to get to know him,” you continue, voice trembling. “When I first found out how my wolf feels for him, I thought it could be like how I’ve always imagined having a fated mate would be: slowly falling in love with them. With him.”
A wistful smile graces your beautiful features, soft and vulnerable. “I wanted to know which game he remembers the most. I wanted to know if the number on his jersey means anything. Silly things like that. Not this.”
Your hand moves to your chest unconsciously, rubbing the surface softly.
“Not like this. Not when it hurts every time I—” you cut yourself off, breath shaking. “Not when it hurts every time I look at him.”
You still remember, after one grueling routine, when the pain was still kind enough to let you come to practice. The players had just finished their practice too, slicked with sweat and looking exhausted as ever. Among the tired alphas, your eyes locked onto Heeseung’s.
You had the instincts to go to him and pass him the cold mineral you’d unknowingly saved for him. But the look in his eyes—it was unreadable. Cold. An abyss that was enough to make you stay rooted in your place.
Then, without even a graze of a smile, he looked away, taking a bottle from Riki’s hand.
It had hurt more than you’d like to admit.
“I think…” you try again, more carefully this time. “If things were different, I would’ve liked him.”
Your throat tightens. This time, you’re reminded of that night before everything turned cruel like this. The warmth of his embrace that lingered. The spice of his scent that clung. The safety of his company that comforted you.
Was any of it real?
“And if things were the same…I think I would've still liked him anyway.”
That’s the truth. A quiet, terrifying truth that settles deep in your chest like an unshakeable ground. The kind of truth that makes even your most grounding friend sit still in your bed.
“And that’s what makes it worse,” you whisper.
Because now it’s not just your omega.
It’s you, too.
The one-week intervarsity basketball tournament has finally begun. Around seven universities have sent their representatives, leading to a flood of humans in different-coloured jerseys wandering around on your campus, its official host.
You’re excused from the whole week’s classes, seeing your cheerleaders and bunches of alphas more than you have ever seen your classmates since the tournament started. It was exciting at first, to participate in such a prestigious tournament that is always the talk of town. But the tight schedules between games is becoming more taxing and demanding.
It doesn’t help that the bond rejection symptoms have only gotten worse, hindering you from giving your best potential at each routine. Which, of course, catches the attention of your captain, and she’s not very amused with it.
“Y/N. If you’re not telling me what is wrong with you, then don’t make me find excuses to put you on the bleachers.” Narin once whispered to you on the third day of the tournament. You merely nodded, trying hard not to scrunch your noise at the sour smell of bubblegum and burnt cotton candy. She eyed you up and down, before she scoffed.
“Don’t get too butt-hurt that Heeseung’s fucking other cheerleaders,” she grunted. You froze. “At least you got your round that night. He fucking rejected me.”
What? The confusion must be clear on your face, because then Narin rolled her eyes, fixing the blue ribbon in her hair before she turned to face you.
“You smelled like him for weeks, Y/N. Don’t think people didn’t know that you two fucked after they won against that eastern university that night.” And then she left, leaving a dumbfounded you in the hallway, standing still like a lifeless statue.
Realisation starts settling in. Did people think you and Heeseung—fuck. You should’ve known.
No wonder many eyes were on you during those days when you still smelled like Heeseung. You thought it was just because Heeseung was one of the most sought after alphas on campus. Not this. Not whatever allegation this is.
Still, the bomb Narin had dropped wasn’t enough to stop yourself from pushing yourself past your limits. You don’t even know what your limits are anymore. They seem to keep expanding with every new pain that blooms in your chest.
You’re still a bit sluggish, but at least Narin is off your back. Whatever bitterness she harbours for you, though not forgotten, is at least tamed on the last day of the tournament.
You knew she wouldn’t understand, but you couldn’t help it if the pain worsens. You wish, for once, that Heeseung would take it slow with the cheerleaders from the opposing teams. Because the pain has become unbearable; cracks turning into holes of emptiness in your heart, faint pulsing turning into straight-up invisible stabbing in your gut. You’re actually surprised that you’re not already bleeding from how real it has felt.
However, deep down, there’s a small, barely-there gratitude for Heeseung for not doing it in front of you. At least you can spare yourself from whatever possible torment this fate has destined for you to face if you had to watch Heeseung fucking another omega in the empty locker room.
But you guess it’s time you finally, actually reach your limit, and your body can’t seem to be more dramatic to choose the last game as its last straw. As Heeseung hoops in the last score for the team, sealing their title as the champion, the audience erupts into the loudest cheer you’ve ever heard. You quickly get to your feet to perform the celebratory routine, but the world is spinning and your head is light when you stand up. You stagger backwards.
“Oh my Goddess, are you alright?” One of your cheerleader friends catches you in her arms, shaking you out of your pained daze.
“I…” you cough, your voice only scratching at your throat. “I just need to. Sit. Yeah. I need to sit down and talk to Heeseung.”
“Heeseung?” The girl, who you finally recognise as Rei, looks over at the center of the court, where almost the whole school is hooting and hollering in joy. “Wait—let me sit you down first. You’re pale as hell, damn.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you’re finally seated. Rei has passed you a bottle of mineral water and fans you with her pink hand-fan. She stays by your side, looking after you as the rest of the world celebrates the first champion of your university team. You’re painfully grateful to her for it.
“Hey. Can I call one of your friends? Or maybe, do you have an alpha I can contact?” Rei starts when you’re not speaking, too focused on not focusing on the pain to remember to talk. “You asked for Heeseung just now. Is he your alpha?”
Is he?
You wish you knew the answer to that too.
Instead, you shake your head. “He’s not my alpha. I just…need to have a few words with him.”
Rei purses her lips, clearly not pleased with your priority at the moment but obliges anyway. “Alright. Let me text my cousin real quick.” She says, already rummaging inside her bag for her phone.
Her statement intrigues you. “Cousin?”
“Nishimura Riki. And he’s not replying. Gimme a sec.” You watch as Rei presses the call button on her phone and puts the device over her ear. You follow her line of sight as she turns to look at the court again. The crowd hasn’t calmed down from the high of the win yet.
“Hello, adopted fuck. I need you to read my text ASAP—Nobody’s stealing your girlfriend, Riki! You can go back to kissing her face after you read my text—Okay, okay! My friend, Y/N, needs to talk to Heeseung. President-level urgent.” Rei pauses, taking a quick look at you before she continues. “Yes. It seems very important. Just get his ass here fast. Yeah—Congrats, by the way. I’m not buying you that Chrome Hearts chain. Bye.”
Rei sighs as she pockets her phone. “Heeseung will be here in five minutes. You good? Do you still need anything? I feel like I should call someone else. You’re friends with Ahn Yujin, aren’t you?” She rambles on. For someone who barely speaks to you, Rei sure is a caring omega.
You give her a small smile.”I’m alright, Rei. I’ll rest after seeing him.”
Rei hums, checking her phone when it vibrates. “Aight, if you say so. I’ll be around here until they move to celebrate at Jake’s frat tonight.” She gathers her stuff and stands up, brushing her pleated skirt with practiced elegance that you know is instilled in every cheerleader’s demeanour.
“You take care of yourself. And I better not see you at the party.”
“Thank you, Rei.” You wave at her and watch as the lines of her frame get smaller, disappearing into the crowd.
Now alone, the weight of reality is finally hitting you square in the chest. You curse, pulling your hair when you realise your stupid, impulsive decision, made in the whim of desperation to get the pain go away.
“This is stupid,” you whisper. Without thinking further, you grab your bag and stand to leave. But before you can flee the scene, a heavy presence with the familiar scent of spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze drifts into your senses.
“Y/N?”
The sound of your name leaving his lips has locked you in place. The haunting familiarity of his voice, one that follows you into your restless sleeps and every waking hour, engulfs you almost like the night he held you in his arms.
Except this time, there’s a piercing pain in your heart that comes with his presence. A dull, throbbing ache that’s been a constant company to you, manifested into the shape of the man that your wolf yearns for.
Lee Heeseung.
“Y/N?” He repeats, but you don’t dare to face him just yet. “Riki said you wanted to, uh, talk to me.”
Licking your dry lips, you turn to Heeseung, and the sight has almost rendered you breathless.
Heeseung’s still wearing his jersey, standing tall to his height like he’s dominating the air around him. His burgundy hair looks softer under the light, some small strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. His shoulders are squared up, still lined with pride and the high from winning the tournament. He looks at you calmly, but the edges of his eyes are somewhat gentler; if the lights weren’t tricking your eyes.
You gulp, already losing the battle before it has even started. Why does he have to look so handsome?
You force yourself to say something. “Yeah. I did. I mean, I do. It’s important. I think.”
Heeseung is patient. If your nervousness is something unusual to him, he doesn’t comment on it. After all, you’re indeed known as a shy girl among the cheerleaders.
“I’m…I’m going straight to the point and be honest with you.” Is this really happening? You’re scared that if you were to speak more, your heart might leap out of your mouth from how hard it is pumping behind your ribs. You hold your bag tighter, trying to ground yourself.
“I’m listening,” he hums.
The words are simple. His voice is calm. Too calm, like he’s unaffected, like he doesn’t have a clue about what you’re about to say. It almost makes you falter.
For a second, you just stare at him. At the same face your mind has been haunted for weeks, at the same eyes you’ve been avoiding because they make everything feel too real.
Except everything is actually real. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.
Your fingers curl tighter around your bag.
“Did you…feel anything?” you ask, voice smaller than you intended. “That night.”
Heeseung’s brows pull together, confused. “What do you mean?”
Your throat burns. Stop. Turn around. Leave.
“When you helped me,” you stubbornly continue, ignoring the self-preservation act your wolf’s pulling. “When you scented me. Did you feel something? Anything?”
There’s a shift in the air. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Heeseung’s shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens a fraction. A flash of something that leaves your heart hopeful crosses his face, but it leaves as soon as it comes.
“I was just helping you,” he finally says, almost too quickly. “You were in a bad state.”
The ache in your chest pulses, turning alive with each passing second.
“I know that,” you nod, almost too fast, the throbbing in your head comes back. The headache is well-guaranteed after this, you’re sure of it. “I know. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I just—I just need to know if you felt it too.”
“Felt what?”
You stare at him. God, he’s really making you say it. Is he truly clueless or is he playing with you? Whatever he is trying to do, he’s succeeding at making you feel smaller and…desperate.
“The pull,” you whisper after a while, “the connection.”
Silent stretches between the two of you. Heeseung returns your gaze, but his black eyes reveal nothing about his thoughts.
You try again. “You felt it too…right?”
There it is. For a fleeting second, you think you see it. That flicker in his eyes. The subtle hesitation. The twitch in his jaw. It almost makes you feel hopeful.
Heeseung exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair.
“Y/N,” he starts slower this time, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “There’s no such thing as that.”
If your heart was made of lead, you’re sure it’d clang to the floor so loud for how fast it drops.
“What?”
“Fated mates. Bond. Whatever you’re thinking.” He shakes his head, like he’s making a show of how ridiculous you sound. “That’s not real.”
The cracks finally shatter, allowing a big, gaping hole filled with utter anguish to take place in where your heart used to reside. Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens.
“But—” you try, voice undeniably trembling now. “Then, what is this?”
Your hand presses weakly against your chest.
“Why does it hurt like this? Why does,” your voice cracks, your omega thrashing wildly inside you, “why does it hurt so much?”
For a split second, panic flashes across his face. There’s a change in his scent. A sharp, biting spice that’s stinging your nose and thick, briny salt that leaves your throat itchy.
Because he knows. He knows this isn’t normal. He knows how he almost went psychosis the moment it happened to him three weeks ago.
But Heeseung’s always been good at leaving—it’s the one thing that’s been keeping his heart in a safe chest without any chances of getting hurt. It’s almost cruel that he never really cares if leaving right after sex would hurt any of the omegas, but he’s never felt bad enough to stop.
And you feel like someone who will make him stay.
So he does what he knows best.
“It’s in your head,” he says, firmer now. “Probably just your heat cycle messing with you. Or stress.”
The moment those words leave his mouth, your chest feels hollow. Your omega, previously hysterical and angry, is now awfully quiet and wounded.
Right. It’s just stress, he said.
You wish it was just stress.
“Oh,” is the only word you can utter. Heeseung nods, as if convincing himself too, and takes a step back.
But for you, it feels too much like a line being drawn.
“Maybe you should get some rest. You look kind of pale,” he suggests, though his voice is slowly getting small the longer he watches the changes in your expression. You’re not looking at him now, just staring at your feet with trembling fists.
The wilting flowers are back in his senses, filling up his nose and beating at his heart like a bat. Heeseung bites his lips, swallowing down the guilt.
“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
The sight of his retreating back…why is it so blurry?
“You are so fucking stupid, Heeseung.”
Heeseung’s always wondered how his best friend’s citrusy pheromones are going to smell like when he’s mad. Because Jay never gets mad at him. His friend has so much patience that every playful banter always stays as just a playful banter.
But tonight, Heeseung finally senses it. Jay smells bitter, like overripe lemon left too long in hot water. There’s a sharp, metallic tang to it too, representing the control that he’s trying so hard to keep in check. In response to the alpha’s irritated scent, Heeseung’s dominant wolf is itching to draw his claws out, sensing it as a threat.
They’re standing at the backyard of the frat house, where the pool is glowing blue and the night sky is blinking stars. It’s quieter here, with less people hanging around. Many guests have preferred to dance inside, still in celebration mode post-winning.
“What the fuck were you thinking, trying to get into someone else’s pants right after her—her confession?” Jay scoffs in disbelief. He has his back facing Heeseung, the tense muscle of his shoulders visible through the outline of his Polo shirt.
Heeseung, on the other hand, looks more disheveled. The collar of his shirt is misplaced, and there are faint lipstick marks staining his neck and the corner of his mouth. Jay had heard from Riki about what happened between Heeseung and you and the alpha was determined to drag Heeseung out of the bedroom, not before muttering a small apology to the omega he was with. It was all shouts and aggressive whispers between the two alphas until Riki managed to shoo them out.
Which brings them to this moment, where Jay is a ticking bomb and Heeseung is trying his best to calm down. Jay didn’t exactly know who she was, just that he’d seen her face among the cheerleaders. While Heeseung, well, he’s too worked up to explain.
“Confession? What made you think—”
“You guys are fated mates, Heeseung. Can’t you fucking see it?” Jay whips his head around. “This pull you’re feeling is because you guys are fated mates. There’s no other explanation to it.”
Heeseung clenches his jaw. “Those things don’t exist, Jongseong. Not to me.”
“Oh, come on. Then explain your sex problem.” Jay hisses, his eyes turning sharper. “You think I don’t know that you still can’t get your dick wet with other omegas?”
The burgundy-haired alpha doesn’t blink. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is when she could’ve died!” Jay snaps, his scent flaring with his nose. Heeseung grits his teeth, feeling challenged.
Then, softer, like vulnerability leaking through his anger, Jay continues: “You could’ve died, Heeseung.”
Heeseung stills. “What?”
Jay lets out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think so little of this matter, don’t you?” His voice drops, tight and furious. “A half-bond between fated mates when left too long can cause death. And with the speed you’re going with all these nameless omegas, I bet it’ll be her turn to die first.”
Heeseung scoffs, but it’s weaker now. There’s a new fear settling in his chest. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No,” Jay cuts in sharply. “You’re being stupid. I saw her just now. She’s pale as fuck.”
Heeseung’s quiet for a moment, staring into his friend’s eyes with almost the same amount of resentment. “It has nothing to do with me.”
Like a punishment to his lie, something twists sharply in his chest. But Heeseung is quick to mask his pain under a calm facade, gritting his teeth so hard he might break his jaw. Jay scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Oh, so you’re doing this again.” Jay steps closer, not backing away. “You’re running away again, like the coward that you are. You’ll just run and run, deflect and disappear. Typical Heeseung.”
Jay knows he’ll hit a spot if he says it, but he couldn’t care less. He watches as the expression on Heeseung hardens, giving away the emotions he kept locked in his chest.
“Don’t.”
But Jay doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t.
“You think I don’t see it?” Jay presses, voice rising. “Every time something starts to mean something, you bolt. New omega, new bed, new distraction—anything to avoid actually feeling something real.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what this is!” Jay gestures wildly, frustration spilling over. “You found your mate, and instead of dealing with it, you’re out there fucking anything that moves just to prove you’re still in control.”
Silence slams between them, heavy and ugly. Both alphas are holding back from spiraling, neck straining from self-control and simmering anger.
Heeseung’s laugh this time is cold. “Mate?” he repeats, like the word tastes disgusting. “You really believe in that shit?”
Jay stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face. “I believe in what’s right in front of me.”
“There’s nothing in front of you,” Heeseung shoots back. “She’s just an omega I helped. That’s it.”
“Then why her?” Jay fires immediately. “Why can you find her in a crowd? Why does your scent stick to her for days—for weeks? Why can’t you even touch another omega without looking like you’re about to throw up?”
Heeseung falters, his words failing him as Jay hits him with those facts. His shaky stance doesn’t go unnoticed by the alpha, though. He’s quick to seize the chance.
Jay inhales sharply. “You know I’m right, Heeseung. You and Y/N share a bond.”
“So what?!” Heeseung snaps, frustration finally cracking through. “So what if there’s a bond? You want me to just—what? Drop everything? Play house? Act like I’m suddenly someone I’m not?”
Heeseung meets Jay’s fiery gaze head-on and shoves his friend harshly. “Stay out of it, Jay. I swear to fucking God.”
“And what? Watch you let her die because you couldn’t care less to acknowledge the bond?” Jay lets out a hollow laugh, pushing Heeseung back just as hard. “And then I watch you die?”
“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about this.”
Their scents clash; sharp citrus and aggressive spice filling up the space like a warning siren. It almost turns physical, Riki almost bursts through the door when he sees their chests almost touching. But it is Jay who stops first.
Not because he wants to. But because he’s thinking of you.
“My parents are fated mates, Heeseung.” Jay starts, quieter, his voice losing its harsh edges. “Doesn’t mean you don’t believe in it, it isn’t real to other people.”
Heeseung remains quiet, his chest still moving rapidly.
Jay’s eyes turn glassy. He retreats one more step away from Heeseung. “If you don’t want her, reject the bond properly,” he says, breathing hard. “You’re letting someone know that you don’t want her as your mate. At least have the decency to be kind about it.”
Jay unclenches his fists.
“Don’t drag her through this half-assed bullshit where you keep hurting her just because you can’t make a decision.”
Heeseung freezes. Out of all words being shouted tonight, it is this quiet resignation from Jay that hits his heart the hardest.
Am I being cruel? Heeseung lowers his gaze. Am I a coward?
Heeseung doesn’t wait too long for an answer.
“Stop being a coward, Heeseung. I beg you.”
The words hang between them, like unwanted vines curling around a trunk of a tree. Heeseung’s gaze stays rooted to the ground, trying to find his voice.
But he doesn’t get the chance to.
“...Heeseung?”
Your voice, soft as it is, cuts through the air like a blade. Both alphas turn to where you’re standing by the door. The faint light spilling from the moon only highlights how pale your face is, void of any warmth and colour.
You stand there, one hand gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, your other pressed weakly against your chest. Your eyes, God, your eyes. They’re glassy, unfocused, yet locked onto him like you’ve found something you’ve been searching for your entire life.
Beside him, Heeseung can sense the way Jay’s body tenses the way his does.
“Heeseung…” you call for him again and move to get closer.
But then you flinch. Your entire body recoils, your nose scrunches.
There, lingering around Heeseung like an unwanted mark, is a scent you know too well. Fruity bubblegum and cloying cotton candy; a scent that flashes pink in your head, turning into a female rage that hits too close to home. Your gaze catches the shape of someone’s mouth staining his golden skin, and something inside you breaks.
Narin.
Heeseung smells like Narin.
Your hand instinctively goes to cover your nose, eyes slowly going wide. The room goes silent, holding its breath as Heeseung feels it.
The fleeting second where something inside you shatters.
Heeseung steps forward. “Y/N—”
But you retreat faster, away from him like he’s a disease that could kill you.
“No,” your voice cracks, shaking your head as if trying to physically deny what your body is already registering. “No, no, no…”
Your breath comes out in shallow bursts, your fingers clawing at your shirt.
It hurts. It hurts so bad.
It’s like every system in your body is collapsing, failing to cope with the ultimate rejection that comes in the scent of another woman. Your fist hits your chest, forcing the air to flow in because it suddenly feels almost impossible to breathe.
Heeseung feels it now—really, really feels it. The bond is thrashing, frantic, like it’s holding onto something that’s slipping through its grasp. The pained scent of withering daisies starts filling up the air, suffocating both alphas instantly. Jay shifts uncomfortably, looking back and forth from Heeseung to you in alert.
“Hey, hey—Y/N,” Heeseung tries again, softer this time, reaching out instinctively. “Look at me. Y/N—”
“Don’t!” Your voice spikes, sharp with fear. Heeseung freezes, his throat closing up when he sees something you’re yet to realise.
That’s when you feel it—something warm trickling down your nose. You instinctively wipe it and stare at the red liquid smearing your fingers.
Blood. Then another drop falls on your palm. Before you can react properly, it already spills down your chin, past your fingers, dripping onto the floor, tainting the white tiles like a crime scene.
“Fuck.” Jay curses under his breath, his wolf perking up in alarm.
Beside him, Heeseung is beyond agitated. “Y/N!”
He doesn’t think. Heeseung lunges forward, longing to be close to you at that moment. But you’re already shaking your head rapidly, tears spilling uncontrollably now.
“Stop!” you gasp, pale lips trembling like dying petals. “I can’t do this—I can’t—”
Inside you, your omega is screaming in pain. In betrayal. In self-preservation. Her voice, raw and jagged, torn by pain, echoes in your head.
An instinct, primal and desperate, takes over your being.
Cut it off.
Cut it off before it kills you.
You clutch at your chest, lungs burning up like a wildfire. Tears spill out freely, drenching your face in anguish and agony.
Cut it off!
And finally, you let go.
Across from you, just a few paces away, Heeseung feels it like a force, stopping him in his tracks.
It doesn’t come gradually, or slowly. It rips through his body. A violent, invisible force tearing straight through his chest like something sacred being forcibly severed. His breath is knocked out of him.
“Fuck!” Somewhere behind him, Jay is also spiraling, realising what’s going down.
But Heeseung doesn’t know. He staggers, his knees almost giving up as excruciating pain spreads from the scent gland in his neck down to his chest. Something inside him—something he never fully acknowledges—finally snaps. He almost screams.
A thick veil of tears wells up instantly, blurring his vision faster than he could process it.
“Y/N,” his voice breaks, the cracks showing up like poison in daggers. Across from him, you’re already sobbing.
It’s loud and raw, a wailing that stops even the loud music from inside. Your scent, bitter and beyond distressed, is now flooding the space like a broken dam. Your body folds in on itself as if trying to contain something that’s already shattered beyond repair.
Inside of you, your omega goes silent completely.
And it terrifies him. A lot.
Heeseung clutches his neck, where his scent gland is pulsing violently, throbbing in an indescribable pain that feels like it could kill him. And when his eyes find yours, he realises with dread that the pull is no longer there.
He can’t feel you. His wolf can’t feel your wolf.
The constant, aching thread that’s been tying him to you; it’s gone.
You cut the bond from your side.
The half-bond, already fragile with doubt and cowardice, is hanging by its loose thread. If it was a red string like many people had said, Heeseung’s sure it’d waver pathetically by his finger, trembling like a thread losing its kite.
“What…What did you do?” he whispers, voice hollow and shaky.
Heeseung takes a step forward again, ignoring Jay’s warning voice from behind him. His focus becomes singular on you, not minding the many pairs of eyes watching from the other side of the door.
This time, his step is slower and careful, like approaching something fragile. Something that is already broken.
Someone wounded.
You don’t move toward him. You don’t even spare him a look. You just cry, quietly, as now it feels empty where the bond used to be. You can’t feel him.
You can only feel pain.
“Y/N…”
“...I want to leave.”
You wipe your nose, the blood still fresh and wet. You lean on the door for support, still trying to hold yourself up despite the urge to just collapse. Heeseung has to force restraint on himself, holding himself back from running to you. He searches your face, trying to catch your eyes, terrified beyond reason.
The silence is deafening.
At last, you lift your gaze, misty eyes meeting misty eyes.
“I ended it.” Your voice, used to be soft and warm, is now cold. Heeseung feels his lungs stop functioning.
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hiiiii... can u write something like, doctor jungwon with nurse reader... and the reader suffers an accident...
Dr. Yang, Can You Not?
Pairing: Surgeon! Jungwon x Nurse! Fem! reader
Synopsis: Being a nurse means long hours, short breaks, and trying not to stare too long at Jungwon, or so we call, Dr. Yang Jungwon, during rounds. No one said falling for a surgeon would be part of the job description, but here we are.
Author's Note: This was honestly the hardest thing I’ve ever written 😭 It took so much time and research because I wanted to reflect the reality of hospital life. Writing a story where the characters are both grounded was a challenge, but I learned a lot from it. Huge thank you to the anon who requested this. I’m so sorry it took forever to finish. I poured my heart into it. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I struggled writing it 😭💉 Happy reading! 💗
Content Warning: Please note that this is a fictional story. While I did a lot of research to make the hospital setting feel real, this does not accurately represent actual medical procedures or protocols. This was written for entertainment purposes only. This story mentions blood, injuries, fainting, medical emergencies, and heavy emotional moments. Also includes cursing and unfiltered language at times. Please read with care!
Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20
Being a nurse isn’t easy. It’s not like the shows, and it’s not like what people outside the hospital think it is. There’s no time to breathe when you’re responsible for lives. You learn to control your emotions, move fast, and think faster. And even then, mistakes happen.
You knew something was off the moment the shift slowed down. The patient was fine, but the chart wasn’t. There’d been an update, a new dosage written in right after you made the rounds. Jungwon, or so everyone calls, Dr. Yang, had caught it. He said nothing then, only glanced at the chart and walked off. He asked to speak to you in the staff lounge an hour later. He didn’t sit. He didn’t lecture. “Walk me through what happened,” he said, arms crossed. He seemed calm but unreadable.
You shifted your weight. “It was bed 14. The chart was updated, but I didn’t double-check. I was covering trauma for Jina, running back and forth. I saw the old dosage and went with it. I didn’t mean to cut corners. I…I missed it.” He didn’t interrupt. You continued, “The update must’ve come through after I’d already prepped, and I know that doesn’t excuse anything. I was responsible for checking again, but I didn’t, Dr. Yang.”
For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then he exhaled lightly. “Patient’s fine. No harm done. I logged it as a near miss.” You nodded, but it didn’t feel like relief. Only a confirmation of what you already feared, that it had been close. Too close. “You’re not careless,” he added. “You’ve been consistent. One mistake doesn’t change that. But next time, don’t rush. Even if you’re covering, you say something.”
“I will,” you said. You meant it. He looked at you for a moment longer and asked. “Are you alright?” You hesitated, “I’m just mad at myself.”
That seemed to land with him. Not sympathy, he wasn’t the type, but understanding. “Good. You should be. Means you won’t let it happen again.” He turned toward the door, paused with his hand on the knob. “If it starts feeling too much, don’t wait until it breaks you. Say something sooner.”
And that was the thing with Jungwon. He wasn’t that warm, but when it mattered, he was present. And in a place where lives hang by a thread daily, that meant everything.
🚑
You were slumped on the break room couch with your wrinkled scrubs and hair clipped up with zero effort. Jina had her feet on the table, unbothered by hospital etiquette, while Ara tried to get the vending machine to accept her crumpled bill for the fourth time. “Just accept your fate. No snacks for you,” Jina mumbled while eyes half-shut. “I just want a chocolate bar,” Ara said, pressing the buttons with the desperation of someone clinging to hope. “This hospital is cursed.”
“I could’ve told you that,” you muttered. “I almost gave the wrong dosage to bed 14 today.” That woke Jina up. “Wait, what?”
You shrugged. “Dr. Yang caught it. He asked me to walk him through it. No yelling, though. It’s only that terrifying calm voice.”
“Oh no,” Ara groaned, flopping onto the chair beside you. “The ‘walk me through it’ is worse than yelling. It’s like guilt, shame, and a midlife crisis all in one sentence.”
“I kept waiting for the part where he tells me I’m off the schedule next week,” you said.
“And did he?” Jina raised an eyebrow.
“No. He said I’m not careless. Which somehow made me feel worse.”
“Because now you have a reputation to protect,” Ara said, poking your leg with her foot. “Welcome to hell.” She added. “Nurses from the third floor were hanging around the corridor again.” You didn’t look up from your notes. “What for?”
“Dr. Yang was in OR 3. Apparently, the supply room suddenly became the most visited place in the hospital.” Jina gave a tired laugh as she unwrapped her sandwich. “It’s funny. The way they pretend to be casual with clipboards in hand.” You shook your head. “They’ll be disappointed. He barely even looks up unless it’s patient-related.”
“That’s what makes him kind of intimidating,” Ara said. “Not in a mean way. He’s just strict and focused.” Jina nodded. “Still better than the others. He won’t call you out in front of a patient. He corrects you once, and that’s it. But you remember.”
You responded, “It’s the way he talks. He never raises his voice, but you know when he means business.”
Ara smirked. “The ‘walk me through it’ line?”
You smiled faintly. “Exactly.”
“I swear, we’re running on caffeine and instinct at this point,” Jina muttered. “Mostly instinct,” you said. “Barely any caffeine left.” Ara sighed. “Two more hours. Let’s make it.” You all stood up slowly, the weariness showing in the way your bodies moved. No complaints, though.
Someone mentioned a patient needing to be checked on in the ICU, but no one asked who would go.
You were already moving.
🚑
Everyone looked like shit but the thing was, no one complained too much. Because this was real work. Messy, exhausting, nonstop and honestly, no one had time to be pretty at 4 AM. Jina was slouched in the nurse’s station chair. “If I die, make sure they clean my brows before the funeral.”
“You’re not dying,” Ara said. “You’re just decaying slowly.”
You leaned your head against the counter. “Why does this shift feel like three years?”
“Because it is,” Ara answered. “Time bends here.”
Someone was wheeling a portable vitals cart down the hallway with one squeaky wheel screaming for help. Another nurse was trying to untangle IV tubing. Then, Jungwon walked past.
Everyone straightened, not because he was scary in a mean way, but because, somehow, he made you want to be on your A-game. He wasn’t the type to raise his voice or humiliate anyone. He only had that stare. You weren’t feeling any fear. It was only respect… and fine, a lot more fear. Jina whispered, “I swear I saw four nurses almost break their necks earlier just watching him.” Then, you sighed, grabbed your tablet, stood up, and headed down the hall to follow up on a urine output. Another hour in the hospital.
🚑
You were replacing the ECG leads on Mr. Choi, the elderly patient in room 305, again, for the third time this week. He’d somehow peeled them halfway off while adjusting his pillow and now acted like the whole thing was a crime against his freedom. “They itch,” he grumbled, crossing his arms as you prepped new stickers. “They always itch, Mr. Choi,” you said, not looking up. “But you don’t pull them off unless you want a lecture and a delay in meds.”
“I wasn’t pulling, I was just adjusting.”
“Mmhmm,” you muttered, pressing the last lead down. “Try adjusting your expectations next time.” The monitor beeped back to normal. You were currently logging the change when footsteps approached. You didn’t have to look up. Jungwon stepped in, making a quick scan of the room. “What happened?”
“Monitor alarm. Leads were off,” you answered. “I reattached and checked his rhythm. Stable, Dr. Yang.”
Jungwon nodded once. “Noted. Thank you.” Then to Mr. Choi, “Please avoid touching anything connected to your heart.”
“I was itchy,” Mr. Choi replied while unfazed. Jungwon raised a brow but said nothing. Mr. Choi snorted and asked you something, acting as if Jungwon wasn’t still in the room. “He always like that?”
“Like what?”
Mr. Choi said, “Serious and stern. He looks like he hasn’t slept since med school.”
You shrugged while double-checking your chart. “He works harder than anyone here.”
“Still,” Mr. Choi leaned in slightly. “You two close?”
You gave him a confused look. “Close?”
Jungwon was already turning to leave when Mr. Choi piped up,
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Jungwon stopped walking for half a second, then glanced over his shoulder. “She has standards, Mr. Choi.” And with that, he walked out. You rolled your eyes, more at Mr. Choi than anyone else, as you adjusted the blanket over him. Mr. Choi chuckled. “I didn’t say he was a bad pick.”
You grabbed the used gauze wrappers off the tray. “You need sleep, not gossip.”
🚑
You walked alongside Jungwon. Both of you were fresh off the emergency. Then, “You didn’t hesitate,” Jungwon said after a while, eyes ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Your hands were steady.”
You responded. “Only because I wasn’t thinking. If I did, I’d probably pass out.”
“Still, you didn’t.” His voice wasn’t praising, though, and you could tell he was honest.
You glanced sideways at him. “I thought you were gonna snap when the interns froze.”
“I was too busy watching you fix it,” he replied, catching you off guard. You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you pushed the med room door open with your shoulder. Inside, a couple of nurses were slumped in chairs. You sank into the chair near the sink and muttered, “We all look like expired yogurt.” Someone snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’m aged cheese.”
Laughter broke out softly among the tired group. Mr. Choi, poked his head out from his door down the hall, despite clearly being told to stay inside and rest. His voice carried just enough. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asked, pointing a bony finger toward Jungwon, who was still standing and looking like he was re-running the code blue in his head. You rolled your eyes before anyone else could speak. “Mr. Choi, that’s Dr. Yang.”
But before you could add anything else, Jungwon glanced straight-faced and said, “That’d be inappropriate, Mr. Choi. She hasn’t even bought me dinner.” A few of the nurses choked on their drinks. You were more surprised than anything, but he was already walking off, as if he hadn’t just dropped a line like that mid-shift.
Mr. Choi gave you a smug little grin. “He’s funny. Keep that one.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose and muttered again, louder this time, “That’s Dr. Yang, Mr. Choi.”
You didn’t like to admit it, but fine. Dr. Yang was handsome. Everyone knew it. He had that put-together look that didn’t fade even after sixteen-hour shifts. Smart, obviously. Strict, but not in a way that made nurses cry in the break room. He never raised his voice. He never embarrassed anyone. He just had this way of watching, of waiting for you to catch your mistake, and that alone was enough to make your palms sweat. People either avoided eye contact or found excuses to hang around him. Neither was a good look. Not here, especially not when you were trying to survive the night without mislabeling another patient chart. Besides, it’s not like you saw him in any new light. You’d always known what he was like.
That didn’t mean you weren’t hyper-aware of how he had just made a joke… wait, was it really a joke? ugh, Dr. Yang is so unreadable.
You shook it off, reaching for the clipboard again.
🚑
You had been rushing. Everyone was. It was one of those nights where the ER felt like a war zone, and every second counted. You didn’t double-check the medication. You trusted the label and moved on, but it wasn’t the correct dose. And now, Mrs. Han was in respiratory distress.
The room was already tense. Monitors blared, voices raised, and people rushed around. Jungwon stepped in, glanced at the scene, and didn’t hesitate. Orders flew from his mouth. You followed them silently, your hands moving even as your stomach twisted. It wasn’t until after Mrs. Han had stabilized, wheeled off to the ICU, that it hit. The error. Your error.
You were the last one left in the trauma room, standing beside the cart, staring down at the vial.
“(Name).”
You turned. Jungwon was standing by the door.
“Walk me through it.”
You swallowed. “I-I grabbed the vial from the backup tray. I didn’t recheck the dosage. I thought it was-“ You shook your head. “I was wrong.” He didn’t interrupt. “I know I should’ve rechecked,” you finished. “I didn’t. That’s on me.” There was a long silence.
His eyes were unreadable. “Do you know what could’ve happened if we hadn’t caught it?”
You nodded.
“You’re lucky we were in a room full of capable staff,” he said. His voice wasn’t cold, though disappointment was obvious. “But next time, we might not be.” You looked down. “I don’t expect perfection,” he continued. “But I do expect care. And tonight, you were careless.” It stung. Not because he was yelling; he wasn’t. That would’ve been easier. But because he sounded like he meant every word, like he’d expected better from you and trusted better.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“I know,” he replied. “But don’t make me say this twice.” Then he turned and left, not slamming the door, not throwing a glance back. Gone because he had patients to check and didn’t have time to carry your guilt for you. You stood there longer, trying not to let it show on your face: frustration and shame. Then you squared your shoulders.
There was still a shift to finish.
🚑
You didn’t mean to cry. You told yourself you’d hold it together until the end of the shift. But after the adrenaline wore off, it hit you all at once. The weight of what happened and what could’ve happened. You found an empty supply room. No one ever checked here unless they were restocking. You slid down against the wall, hidden behind metal shelves stacked with gauze and tubing. Your shoulders shook before you realized you were crying.
You weren’t afraid of being scolded again. That already happened. You were worried that you’d become a nurse people didn’t want to work with. That Jungwon wouldn’t trust you again. The door creaked. You wiped your face quickly, seeing Jungwon, but it was useless. Your eyes were red. Your breath gave you away. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood at the entrance, silent, before gently closing the door behind him. “I figured I’d find you here,” Jungwon said.
You didn’t look up.
“I’m not hiding, Dr. Yang,” you muttered.
“I didn’t say you were.” He walked closer.
“I’m fine,” you added, quietly. He crouched down, not too close, enough so you wouldn’t have to raise your head to see him. “You made a mistake,” he said calmly. “And it scared you. That’s normal.” You didn’t reply. “I was hard on you,” he continued. “Because I know you’re better than that.” That made you look up at him, surprised. “If I thought you weren’t capable,” he said, “I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”
The tears started again silently, not because of the mistake, but because he still believed in you. He noticed. You could tell, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he stood up and reached for a box of gauze on the shelf. Pulled a piece from the sterile pack and handed it to you as if it were a tissue. You laughed barely as you took it and dabbed at your face. He didn’t smile, but his voice was gentler now.
“Come on. They’ll start thinking you passed out in here.”
You stood. As you opened the door, he paused beside you.
“(Name).”
You glanced up.
“I’m not giving up on you. Don’t give up on yourself.” Then, he walked away. You followed him out of the supply room minutes later, face wiped clean but eyes still swollen. You thought he’d already disappeared into his rounds, but when you turned the corner by the nurses’ station, he leaned slightly against the counter. He looked up the moment he heard your steps. He said, “Drink some water and eat something, if you can.” You gave a slight nod, ready to keep walking, but then he added, “If you’re not steady, I don’t trust you next to my patients.”
It was teasing, almost.
Was he…?
But before you could respond, he reached behind the desk and placed something on top. A granola bar. You stared at it. Then at him. “You carry snacks now?” you asked cautiously.
His lips curved upwards a little bit. “I carry them for nurses who forget to eat.” That wasn’t in the manual. That wasn’t part of any protocol. And suddenly, despite your pounding head and sore feet, you felt something, not from shame or pressure, but something else entirely. “Thank you,” you murmured. He gave a slight nod. And as you walked away, that granola bar in hand, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps you didn’t see him in the same light anymore.
Maybe… he didn’t see you the same, either.
🚑
It’s your day off. Yey!
You were halfway through reheating leftovers when your phone buzzed. An unknown number. You almost declined it, assuming the hospital admin asked if you could cover another shift because, of course, something told you to pick it up. “Hello?”
“It’s Jungwon.”
Your back straightened. You stared at your microwave as if it had betrayed you. “I got your number from admin,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting. “You left your ID. I figured you’d need it before your next shift.”
“Oh. Right,” you said. “Thanks, Dr. Yang. I didn’t notice.”
“You’re off today, aren’t you?”
“Yeah… I barely got out of bed.”
You could hear a street in the background. He wasn’t at the hospital.
“I’m passing near your neighborhood. You want me to drop it off?”
That was embarrassing. You almost said no. Almost. But you didn’t.
Ten minutes later, you opened your gate, and there was Jungwon in jeans and a jacket. Of course, his hair is still neat because even off-duty, the man probably came with auto-pressed laundry. You, on the other hand, looked like a glitch in the system. He handed the ID over. “Here. Try not to leave it next time. You’ll get locked out of med storage again.”
You took it, trying not to cringe too hard at how you probably smelled like instant noodle seasoning. “Thank you, Dr. Yang.”
He looked at you with a tinsy tiny bit of amusement. “You look like you lost a fight with sleep.”
You snorted. “Sleep won.”
He chuckled softly, then nodded toward the small garden beside your gate. “Nice plants.”
You did a sheepish smile. “They’re mostly dying.”
“Well, it’s still nice.” Then he stepped back. “See you on Monday.” Then he left.
🚑
You clocked in early. After last week, you weren’t about to give anyone a reason to question you again, especially not him. “Early,” came a voice behind you. You turned to see Jungwon standing a few steps away, watching you with that unreadable expression he always seemed to wear in the mornings.
You didn’t falter. “I had things to double-check.”
He nodded, stepping closer to glance at the tablet in your hand. “That’s good.”
You turned your attention to the patient notes again. And it’s as if he could read your mind. “We all make mistakes, but most people don’t take responsibility the way you did,” he continued. “That matters more than pretending to be perfect.”
Your throat felt tight, but you managed, “I don’t like being anyone’s disappointment.”
“You’re not,” he said. “Not to me.”
You didn’t respond. Well, you couldn’t, but something inside you loosened. You didn’t need to smile. He didn’t need to stay. He turned to go, but as he passed, he said. “I’ll see you on rounds.” And just like that, he was gone.
Mid-Morning Break.
You walked down the hallway with two other nurses, Suho and Mei, equally sleep-deprived. “My feet are about to give up,” Mei groaned, adjusting her ponytail. “I swear one more emergency, and I’m just gonna roll myself into a supply closet and nap.”
“You already did that last week,” Suho pointed out, bumping her with a shoulder.
“I wasn’t caught, was I?”
You smiled faintly, their banter pulling you out of your head. The conversation changed between patient updates and who had the worst shift this week. It was a tie between Suho nearly getting puked on and Mei assisting during a dislocated shoulder pop-in. Then Mei slowed her steps, nudging you lightly. “So,” she said, dragging out the word like a tease. “You and Dr. Yang?”
You look at her confused. “What?”
“Don’t play innocent,” Suho added. “He doesn’t talk to anyone like that. I’ve seen him reduce interns to dust with just a stare. But with you? I mean, that voice of his went down an octave.”
“Probably because he was giving feedback,” you muttered.
“Yeah, feedback with undertones,” Mei said, raising a brow. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t notice how he looks at you.”
You exhaled. “He’s strict. He’s focused. He’s not the type to flirt in the middle of a hospital.”
Mei laughed. “Maybe not the type to flirt but the type to admire.”
“Guys, it’s Dr. Yang,” you reminded them, emphasizing his title. “And we’re all professionals.”
“Sure,” Mei said, smug. “But don’t act surprised when he offers to ‘professionally walk you to the vending machine’ again.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer because no matter how much you told yourself not to think about it… You were.
🚑
You were reviewing the chart for Mr. Yoon’s post-op medication when Dr. Kim stormed in. He was loud, always had been, but today, he seemed on edge. “Nurse,” he barked, slapping a clipboard on the desk. “Why wasn’t Mrs. Han’s dressing changed on time? It’s written here that it was scheduled two hours ago.”
You momentarily were thrown off. “I- I was assisting Dr. Nam with Mr. Yoon’s complication. I had already prepped the materials for Mrs. Han, but I asked Jeongmin to-”
“Don’t pass the blame,” Dr. Kim snapped. “If you can’t keep up, maybe you shouldn’t be here. Patients don’t wait on excuses.” You clenched your jaw and swallowed your pride. You knew you worked hard, but it felt like your chest shrank right there in front of everyone. And then, like timing written into the day itself, a new voice cut in. More calm and instantly commanding. “Dr. Kim,” Jungwon said as he stepped into view. “I asked her to stay with Mr. Yoon.”
Dr. Kim stiffened. “That’s not relevant to-”
“It is,” Jungwon interrupted. “He was crashing. She stabilized him. I’m the one who pulled her from the schedule. If you have a problem, bring it up with me.” The whole station went quiet. Damn. Dr. Kim mumbled something about “communication” before turning and walking off, still grumbling under his breath. You stayed frozen for a second. Then you turned to look at Jungwon.
“Thanks,” you said. You could feel the heat crawling up your neck.
“I told you,” he said. “You care. You make the right calls. That matters.” You gave a weak nod. He looked at you for another second. Then: “Don’t skip water just because you’re busy.”
“Huh?”
He held out a paper cup. “Coffee machine’s still broken.” You took it without protest. Then he turned, walking off without another word. And though people surrounded you, somehow, the only thing you noticed was that paper cup in your hand.
🚑
You’d finally clocked out, hands still smelling faintly of alcohol swabs, and your back sore from standing too long. You opened your locker slowly, half-asleep, when a soft knock at the door made you turn. It was Jungwon. He didn’t walk in fully. His hair looked a little messy; clearly, he hadn’t gotten a chance to rest. “I figured you were still here,” he said. How was he able to know where you are every time?
You tried not to look too startled. “Yeah… decompressing.”
He nodded once. “Me too.” Then he stepped forward, holding out something in a napkin.
You squinted. “What’s that?”
“A red bean bun. They were giving them out in Pediatrics. I grabbed one. Then grabbed another one. I don’t know why.” He shrugged, setting it down near your things. “Thought maybe you’d want one. He continued, “You were good today.”
You let out a half-scoff. “I almost got chewed out again, Dr. Yang.”
“And you still stood your ground,” he replied. “That’s why I said good.” His voice wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t overly kind, either. It was sure like he believed it completely.
You didn’t mean to, but your eyes watched him a little longer this time. You always thought of him as composed, brilliant, slightly intimidating but right now… he only looked human. Tired, real. “Thank you,” you said quietly.
He gave a faint smile. “Eat then go home.” And as he turned, he added without looking back, “You always forget to take care of yourself. Don’t make me keep reminding you.”
The door swung shut behind him.
🚑
The breakroom felt alive for once. Eyebags and half-buttoned uniforms didn’t stop the nurses laughing like it was payday. You sat slouched between Jina and Ara, poking at a plastic-wrapped sandwich you weren’t planning to eat. The three of you had just finished a rough rotation. “Okay, but tell me the truth,” Ara whispered loudly. “Would you say yes if Dr. Yang ever asked you out?”
You groaned, “Don’t. Ask. Don’t start.”
Jina snorted into her mug. “You didn’t even deny it.”
“I’m tired,” you deadpanned, dragging your hand down your face. “This is harassment.” You continued, “He’s literally right there,” you added through clenched teeth, glancing toward the corner where Dr. Yang was washing his hands post-surgery, sleeves rolled. He looked like a health campaign poster. Unfortunately, Jina smirked. “Watch this.”
“Dr. Yang!” Ara called sweetly across the room.
You nearly slammed your forehead on the table. “I swear if you say-”
“If someone like her asked you out,” Jina said, jerking her thumb at you, “would you say yes?”
The room went silent. Jungwon dried his hands calmly. “I don’t date coworkers.”
You exhaled through your nose. “Exactly. See?” you muttered.
He turned, tossed the towel aside, and added coolly, “But I never said I wouldn’t make an exception.”
The breakroom erupted.
“OH MY GO-”
“Okay, but WHAT-”
“I need air-”
Ara threw a pillow across the table. Jina screamed. You stared blankly ahead. “Unprofessional,” you muttered, cheeks burning, but the smile tugging at your lips said otherwise.
🚑
You were eating out with Dr. Yang.
Yeah. You read that right.
You were sitting across from Dr. Yang Jungwon, chopsticks in hand, in some little restaurant that he, of all people, apparently knew about. He was the same man everyone in the hospital either feared, admired, or had an embarrassing crush on. Now here he was, casually dipping grilled meat into sauce like he hadn’t just invited you out.
Okay, don’t look at me like that. I know what this looks like. But you don’t get to judge me. It’s Dr. Yang, hello?
You cleared your throat, forcing your eyes to stay on your plate. “I still think this is kind of… inappropriate.”
He didn’t even stutter. “Inappropriate?”
You nodded. “We work together.”
He shrugged. “We’re not in work right now. We’re off-duty. Technically, we’re just two people eating dinner.”
You tried not to roll your eyes. “Do you always say stuff that conveniently works in your favor, Dr. Yang?”
Jungwon smiled, a little smug. “Only when I want to make a point.”
You tried to hide the way your heart was beating so fast. This man. This frustrating, composed, dangerously intelligent man. You poked at your rice. “Just to be clear, this is friendly dinner. Not a date.”
He met your eyes. “Sure.” And then, right as you sipped your drink, he added, “Unless you want it to be.”
You nearly choked.
“Dr. Yang-.”
“It’s Dr. Yang on duty,” he said. “But right now? It’s Jungwon.”
SHITTT. You hated how warm your face felt, but couldn’t even deny it anymore. This man was dangerous. You leaned back in your seat. “You know…” You began, “You’re always so hard to read.”
Jungwon raised an eyebrow, sipping his water. “Am I?”
“Mmhmm,” you nodded, tapping your chopsticks against your bowl. “So tell me then. What were your thoughts on me?”
“The first time we met?”
“Yeah.”
He set his glass down slowly. “You were…fast.”
“Fast?”
“Quick on your feet. Quicker with your mouth,” he said with his lips twitching. “I thought you were a bit arrogant.”
You gave him a look. “That’s rich coming from you.” Which, to your surprise, he laughed. Woah. That was the first time you’ve seen him laugh like this. “But,” he added, “I also saw how you handled that mess on the third floor. I remember thinking, ‘Okay… she’s not just talk.’”
You raised a brow. “So you didn’t like me.”
“I didn’t know you,” he replied. “But I was curious.”
You paused for a moment. “And now?”
He didn’t answer right away. He properly looked at you. Not in the way people do when thinking of the correct answer, but he already knew it and was deciding if he should say it aloud. “Now I think I want to know more.”
You stirred your iced drink lazily.
“I used to think you were married,” you said out of nowhere.
Jungwon looked up from his plate. “Really?”
You nodded. “Yeah. When I first met you years ago.”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
You shrugged. “You walked around like someone with a ring on his finger. You look like you have a family waiting at home.” Jungwon let out a low chuckle and answered. “That’s one way to describe me.”
“Well,” you added, smirking slightly, “I was wrong. Obviously.”
He leaned back in his seat. “So what else did you assume about me back then?”
You took a sip of your drink. “I thought you were distant. The type who wouldn’t remember anyone’s name unless they were on your level.”
He was amused. “That bad, hm?”
“But,” you said, letting the words slow down, “then I watched you work. The way you talk to patients’ families. The way you don’t raise your voice when you’re mad… And you always back up the people, even when no one’s around to see it.”
His eyes were on you. “So what do you think of me now?”
You matched his tone. “I think you’re nothing like I assumed.”
He smiled. “And you? I assumed you were all walls. Smart, yes. Efficient but distant.”
You looked at him.
“And now?”
He shrugged gently. “Now I know better.” He picked up his drink again, eyes not leaving yours. “You know,” he said, “you surprised me too.”
You tilted your head. “How so?”
“At first, I thought you hated me,” he admitted. “You never smiled when I passed by. You were always busy avoiding eye contact.”
“That’s called being professional,” you shot back with a small laugh.
“Mm,” he hummed. “That, or you were trying really hard not to fall for me.”
You choked. “Excuse me?”
He leaned in just slightly, wearing that maddeningly calm expression of his. “It’s only a theory. No judgment.”
You were trying to play it cool. “Your ego’s showing, Jungwon.”
He smiled. “Perhaps or probably I’m finally saying what we’ve both been thinking.” You opened your mouth to argue, maybe to deny it, maybe not, but the waitress arrived with dessert, breaking the moment. He picked up his spoon, but his eyes didn’t leave you, and just before digging in, he said, “But if I’m wrong… you’re free to prove me wrong next time. Over dinner again.”
You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh, blush, or throw your spoon at him. All three, probably.
Dr. Yang, your foot. This man was trouble.
It has been a few, maybe longer, minutes. You were halfway through your dessert, still mentally reeling from Jungwon’s earlier comment, when a hacking cough cracked. You looked up, and just a few tables away, a woman clutched at her throat, her face already beginning to swell. Her husband jumped from his seat, panic in his eyes. “Help! Someone, please! My wife- she’s having an allergic reaction!” he shouted, knocking his chair over.
Your spoon clattered onto your plate. Jungwon was already standing. Without a word, you followed. The moment snapped both of you into motion. You weren’t just a nurse, and he wasn’t just a surgeon. You were trained professionals. This was instinct. “Do you have an EpiPen?” Jungwon asked immediately, crouching beside the woman.
“N-No,” the man stammered. “She didn’t know-this hasn’t happened before-”
“Call an ambulance,” you told him. “Now.” Her breathing was wheezing now, hands clawing at her throat. You gently eased her back against the booth seat while Jungwon checked her pulse, his voice calm. “We need antihistamines,” he muttered. “Fast. See if the staff has a first-aid kit.”
You ran to the counter, flashed your ID, and barked quick instructions. By the time you returned with the kit and a rushed dose of diphenhydramine, Jungwon had her stabilized as best he could, loosening her collar, elevating her legs slightly, keeping her from collapsing into unconsciousness.
You administered the antihistamine carefully. She was still gasping, but the panic in her eyes had softened. The ambulance sirens wailed in the distance. Jungwon kept speaking softly to her, assuring her she would be okay. And when the EMTs finally arrived and loaded her into the stretcher, the husband turned to both of you, breathless and shaking. “Thank you. Oh god, thank you so much.”
You nodded, brushing your hair back, heart still pounding from the adrenaline. When the commotion cleared, Jungwon looked over at you. “You were quick,” he said.
You exhaled. “You were calmer than I thought you’d be outside the OR.”
He smiled faintly. “We’re not just good in scrubs, apparently.”
The restaurant had returned to calm after the chaos. You sat back down at the table across from Jungwon, now half-empty, the plates barely touched. He was quiet, and so were you. “Are you alright?” he asked, pulling you back from your thoughts.
You nodded. “Yeah…a little surreal.”
“That’s the thing about emergencies,” he murmured, looking out toward the restaurant doors where the paramedics had wheeled the woman out. “They don’t care if you’re on a day off.”
You gave a soft laugh. “Guess we never really clock out.”
He folded his arms. “Seems like fate has a cruel sense of humor. Just when I thought I might get through dinner without someone collapsing.”
“Dinner,” you repeated. The dessert was melting into the plate now. “Right. This was supposed to be… normal.” Before he could reply, a paramedic re-entered the restaurant, scanning the tables until their eyes landed on him. “Dr. Yang?” they said, half-breathless.
Jungwon stood. “Is she stable?”
“She’s responding to treatment now. We’re monitoring her vitals en route. Allergic to shellfish. First time reaction. You saved her life, sir.”
“And the nurse,” Jungwon added, glancing at you. “She helped just as much.”
You nodded politely, still seated, feeling your ears grow warm under their praise. The paramedic smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you outside the hospital. I’ll, uh… let admin know you intervened. They’ll probably want to document it.”
“Of course,” Jungwon said with a light sigh. “No such thing as off-duty, I guess.”
With one last salute of gratitude, they left. Then it was just the two of you again, in the now strangely quiet restaurant corner. You broke it. “Sorry,” you said, half-laughing. “I think I cursed this night.”
“Don’t apologize,” he replied smoothly. “You handled that better than most would. You didn’t hesitate.”
You shrugged. “It just kicked in. Probably out of habit.”
He tilted his head. “Instinct. That’s not something you teach. That’s something you are.” He added. “And for the record… it was still a nice dinner.”
You glanced at him. “Even if it ended with chaos?”
He smirked faintly. “Of course. It proves I picked the right person to spend it with.”
“You didn’t pick,” you teased a little. “You cornered me in the hallway and guilted me into eating on our day off.”
“And yet,” he countered, “you didn’t say no.”
You gave him a look. “That’s not fair.”
He smiled at you. “It’s not untrue, either.” You glanced around the restaurant again. Everything had settled into normal again, but your heart hadn’t. You looked back at Jungwon, sitting across from you, his usual professionalism softened enough that it unsettled you in the best way. He didn’t look away. “You know, you’re too pretty for your own good.”
That shut you up.
You stared at him.
He was already smiling, already reaching for the check. “You still want coffee?” he asked. “Or should we call it a night and let the world surprise us again tomorrow?”
You said, “Let’s see if the next emergency lets us finish a cup first.” And with that, the two of you stood and left.
🚑
The rain hadn’t let up all morning; strangely, neither had your luck. It was supposed to be a quick errand. A quick stop, and then home, but fate never warned you before it turned cruel. The screech of tires. And then-
Nothing.
A blur of sirens and panic. Then suddenly, darkness.
…
Back at the hospital, the very one you called your second home, the emergency doors slammed open. “She’s one of ours!” a nurse cried, rushing alongside the gurney. “It’s her- it’s (Name)!” Chaos was everywhere in the ER. A resident dropped her clipboard. A tech gasped. The head nurse’s hands flew to her mouth.
“She was hit near the corner by the pharmacy. Driver ran a red light,” the paramedic reported quickly as they wheeled you in, blood already staining the sheet beneath you. Then someone whispered, “Has Dr. Yang been told?” They didn’t have to wait long.
Because Jungwon came running.
His coat wasn’t even fully on. His tie was loose, his ID still dangling from his collar. The moment he saw your face. Bruised, unconscious, and barely breathing, his expression collapsed. “No- what happened?!” he demanded, eyes scanning every inch of you.
“Dr. Yang, you need to stand back,” one of the surgeons said, placing a hand on his chest.
“She’s going into surgery,” another voice called. “Internal bleeding. We need the OR now.”
“I’ll go in,” Jungwon said instinctively, reaching for gloves, but a hand gripped his arm. “You can’t,” said Dr. Nam, one of the senior staff.
“What?” Jungwon snapped, not even trying to hide the shake in his voice.
“You’re too involved.”
“She’s a nurse!” he shot back. “She’s my nurse-”
“Exactly,” Nam said quietly. “You care too much. You know the protocol. You know what it risks- your judgment, her outcome.” Jungwon’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving you as your unconscious body was wheeled toward the OR. “She needs me.”
“She needs a surgeon with a clear head,” Nam said gently but firmly, and it broke him. He didn’t argue again. He was rooted in place, his hands curled into fists, watching the doors close. All he could do was watch.
🚑
In the hallway, time didn’t pass. Jungwon sat slumped against the wall. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every time someone walked by, he looked up, hoping. And all he could hear was the last thing you’d said to him, two days ago over dinner:
“Let’s see if the next emergency lets us finish a cup first.”
Now here you were unconscious. On the other side, he couldn’t cross, and for the first time in his life, Jungwon felt utterly powerless. And completely terrified of losing you.
The clock ticked. Hours bled into each other. Jungwon sat just outside the operating wing. His elbows were resting on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. His white coat was discarded somewhere, forgotten. He wasn’t wearing his pager. He wasn’t in rounds. He wasn’t answering calls. The nurses knew better than to ask.
Dr. Yang, poised and always on time, was now the man who hadn’t moved in three hours. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t blinked when your bloodied ID badge slipped from a nurse’s tray and landed near his feet.
He picked it up, his fingers closing around it as if it were made of glass. Your picture was still perfect. “You should rest, Dr. Yang,” someone whispered. He didn’t look up. “Do you want something warm? You haven’t moved-”
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t.
A clipboard fell behind the station; he flinched. One of the interns passed by and muttered, “Isn’t that Dr. Yang? Why’s he just-”
“Shut up,” A nurse hissed. “That’s her. The nurse he-”
Everyone knew. Jungwon stared ahead, eyes bloodshot, skin pale from stress and cold. The man who held steady during surgeries and cardiac arrests was now coming apart at the seams, silently. Every second he waited, he replayed everything. The way your smile looked over coffee. Your voice teasing him. And now… Now you were behind a door he couldn’t open.
Please wake up.
Please stay with me.
Please don’t let this be the end before we even began.
🚑
“Dr. Yang,” came the voice he barely registered. Jungwon didn’t look up at first. He was still sitting in the same spot. His leg had bounced unconsciously for the last half hour. “Jungwon.”
He finally glanced up. It was Dr. Nam, his colleague, and more importantly, someone who knew him well enough to speak past the professional wall he always wore. Nam’s face softened when he saw the state Jungwon was in. “They stabilized her. Surgery was a success.”
“She’s okay?”
“She’s not awake yet. But she made it,” Nam said. “She’s in recovery. I thought you’d want to-” Jungwon stood up so fast before he could even finish. His hand trembled slightly as he pushed the hair out of his eyes. The color returned to his face in waves. “You can go in,” Nam said gently. “Only one visitor. The nurses know.”
He didn’t say thank you. He couldn’t.
Jungwon was already walking.
The heart monitor beeped steadily. You were there, pale against the hospital sheets, an IV in your arm, your breathing soft and even. The oxygen mask fogged slightly with each exhale. Jungwon stopped at the door. He wasn’t prepared. He swallowed hard and stepped inside. Then, his knees gave in. He bent beside your bed, one hand grabbing the rail for support, the other reaching finally to hold yours. His forehead dropped to your hand, his shoulders shaking as the tears came. “You scared me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You stupid, reckless…-you.” He pressed his lips to the back of your hand and held it there. “Don’t do that again. Don’t ever make me feel like that again.”
He laughed bitterly, brushing away a tear with the heel of his palm. “You haven’t even woken up, and I’m already lecturing you.” He stayed there, crouched beside you, refusing to let go. The strong, untouchable Dr. Yang is now just a man breaking beside the person he was so close to losing.
🚑
You woke up slowly, blinking against the lights. The scent of antiseptic and the distant sound of chatter told you exactly where you were, but you didn’t remember how you got here. Then you turned your head. Jungwon was there.
Slumped in the hospital chair. His hair was pushed back messily, seemingly where he’d run his hands through it too many times. His coat was folded over the armrest, and an untouched paper cup of coffee was sitting on the small table near him. He hadn’t noticed you were awake yet. He looked… tired. No, worn out. So you spoke first, voice scratchy.
“Shouldn’t you be working?”
His head shot up immediately. His eyes met yours and just for a moment, they widened. Then came a breath of relief. An almost whispered-
“You’re awake.”
He stood.
“…you’re truly awake.”
You tried to smile, though your face barely moved. “I was out that long?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just sat beside you and shook his head slowly. “You scared the hell out of me.” You glanced at him, his dark circles, the crease between his brows, the exhausted worry in his eyes, and mustered a dry joke. “You look terrible.”
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Everyone’s said that.” Then he leaned forward. “But I’m not the one who almost…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
You swallowed softly. You could see it now, all the weight he’d been carrying while you were unconscious. “I thought you’d be the type to keep calm under pressure,” you teased.
He smiled faintly. “I am unless it’s you.” Your breath caught, but he carefully reached out and took your hand before you could say anything. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Don’t do that again,” he whispered. “Don’t make me wait like that again.”
🚑
You’d been back to your shifts, back to the same elevator dings. People still gave you longer glances than usual. It’s not every day a nurse almost dies in the middle of her day off and ends up back in her hospital bed. But things were starting to feel normal again or something like it. It was late. Most of the lights on the floor had dimmed, save for the nurse’s station and the glow from a few patient monitors. Finally, you were done with your rounds and just about to log out when Jungwon showed up by the lockers. It looks like he’d been waiting. “Shift ended?” he asked.
“Ten minutes ago,” you replied, tugging your ID off. “You?”
He nodded. “Technically, but I stayed.”
You gave him a look. “Why?”
He hesitated, then said, “Thought I’d walk you out.”
“Seriously?” You furrowed your eyebrows.
“Yeah.” He shrugged a little. “Hospitals look different at night.” So you walked past the pharmacy, through the hallway with the vending machines, and then out the staff exit where the breeze was gentle and the parking lot half-empty. “Are you alright?” he asked as the two of you stood by the bike rack, neither in a rush to leave.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m back.”
He looked over at you. “Back, but you’ve been different.”
You raised a brow. “How?”
Jungwon hesitated. “You’re more careful with your words.”
You looked away. Maybe you were.
“You, too,” you said.
He smiled. “I have something I’ve been holding back. Protocol says I probably shouldn’t say it,” he added. “But I’ve been thinking about you before the accident and after.” You turned to him slowly. “I don’t want to make things weird,” he continued. “And I know we’re not supposed to… cross lines, but whatever happened that day, when I thought I might lose you, it made it pretty clear I’d regret not saying anything.”
“…You’re not making things weird,” you said.
He looked up at you. “No?”
You shook your head. “Scary.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Terrifying.” Then he spoke again. “You know, Nam’s been asking if we’re seeing each other.”
You raised a brow. “And what did you say?”
“That if we are, we’re both incredibly good at pretending we’re not, and if we’re not, maybe we should stop pretending we don’t want to.”
You sighed. “This place has a lot of rules.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m not asking for anything messy. Only clarity.”
“You’re doing this here?” you said while looking around.
He shrugged. “Would’ve done it over dinner, but someone already agreed to that and didn’t seem to regret it.”
🚑
It didn’t happen in a moment with fireworks, or a sudden realization under a rainy sky. No. It happened calmly and quietly, like most things between you and Jungwon did. You were both sitting in the lounge during a lull, not technically on break, but not in a rush to move. Your legs were folded on the couch, a tablet in your lap. Jungwon sat across from you, reviewing a report, hair slightly messy from hours in the OR. You glanced at him. “You know you could sit here, right?”
He looked up. “You mean next to you?”
“Unless you’re afraid of proximity.”
He chuckled, stood, and made his way over. “Is this one of those times,” he murmured, “where we pretend we’re not already something?”
You tilted your head toward him. “Depends. What are we?”
He glanced at you with a slight smile on his lips. “I think I’d like to stop pretending we’re not together.”
You look at him a little surprised. “That simple?” you asked.
“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he replied. “Unless you want it to be.”
You looked down at your hands for a second. “You’re not worried? About the hospital. About how it’ll look?”
“I’ve thought about all of that,” he said. “And I still want you.” It’s been years of tension, glances, late-night shifts, near misses, and unspoken feelings. So you nodded, which made him smile. Jungwon put his hand on top of yours. “So, you’re my girlfriend now, right?” he said.
You scoffed, but your smile betrayed you. “If you’re going to act like that, I might change my mind.”
He leaned back on the couch with one arm lazily draped behind you. “It’s too late. I already mentally updated your name in my phone.” You nudged him gently with your shoulder. You were his and he was yours. Simple as that. Even in a hospital full of rules, something between you had finally gotten its own space.
🚑
You were both jotting notes outside patient rooms. The hall was full of chatter, but it was clear that no one interrupted when it was you and Dr. Yang. He glanced sideways at you, but you caught it. You always did. “You missed lunch,” he said while his eyes never left the file in his hand.
“So did you,” you muttered back.
“I’ll ask the cafeteria to send something up,” he replied as if he hadn’t done it for you three days in a row.
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t ask.”
You allowed yourself the faintest smile. Behind you, two new residents whispered in awe.
“They’re so-like-is that even allowed?”
“They don’t even act like a couple, but also? You feel it.” Someone else chimed in, “That’s the Dr. Yang. You think anyone’s gonna tell him who he can or can’t date?”
And no, no one ever did. You stood beside him in the conference room later that day as he presented a case to the department heads. His voice didn’t change when he quoted your observation. There was no favoritism and no tells, but when the meeting ended, as everyone went out, Jungwon stayed. “You handled that case well,” he said softly, packing his laptop.
You raised a brow. “Professional compliment?”
He glanced up. “Strictly professional.”
Then, he added: “Come over later.”
“To your place?” you asked.
“Where else would my pretty girlfriend go?”
You whispered, “We have early rounds tomorrow.”
“Then come early.”
After that, he walked off.
Why does he always get to walk off after ending a conversation with smooth lines?
🚑
Later that evening, you stood in his apartment. He walked over and set a glass of water beside you, then stood before you, hands bracing the counter on either side of your hips. “You look tired,” he murmured.
“I am.”
“You should lie down.”
You looked up at him. “So should you.”
Jungwon gave a dry laugh. “Are you suggesting we both rest?” In which you leaned forward, and he met you halfway. His lips pressed to yours. A few slow kisses here and there. He pulled back, “I missed this,” he said quietly. “Even when you’re right next to me at work… It’s not the same.”
Your voice was soft. “I know, but we can’t afford to slip. Not there.”
“No,” he agreed, “but here? I can love you as much as I want.” You closed your eyes and kissed again, deeper this time. The closeness contrasts with how far you kept apart during the day. No one else got this version of him, and you had it.
🚑
You were the only one left at the nurses’ station. Your fingers moved slower with every letter you typed into the patient charting system. Most of the night shift hadn’t made it in and was short-staffed again. You didn’t even bother complaining. What was the point?
You tried to focus, but your eyelids felt like sandbags. “Why are you still here?” a familiar voice asked gently behind you. You didn’t even turn; you knew it was him. You shook your head. “Don’t start. We’re two nurses down. I couldn’t just walk out.” You felt him step closer, then saw a hand reach around you to press the ‘Save’ button on your screen. The screen dimmed.
“Charting can wait.”
You finally looked up. Jungwon was there with his clean coat. He looked at you like you were the only thing in this building that mattered. “I don’t want you pushing yourself to burnout.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“Touché,” he said with a smirk.
You let your head fall against his body as he moved behind your chair, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You exhaled, closing your eyes for just a second. “I didn’t even realize I was this tired,” you whispered.
“I did.” He kissed the top of your head.
You smiled weakly. “This is inappropriate.”
“Then fire me.”
You let out a tired breath. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”
He squeezed your shoulders gently. “That makes two of us.”
🚑
You and Jungwon walked side by side, hands intertwined, his thumb caressing over your knuckles occasionally. It was one of the rare nights you both got off early, and you made a promise not to talk about the hospital. For tonight, you were just two people in love. “I still can’t believe we’ve made it this far without anyone forcing us to do another 48-hour shift,” you joked softly.
Jungwon chuckled. “Don’t jinx it. Someone from scheduling might be hiding behind that hotdog cart.” You laughed. Then-
“Help! Please! Someone help!”
Your head turned at the same time. A small crowd had started to form near a bench just across the street. A woman was kneeling beside someone collapsed on the ground, panic rising in her voice.
You looked at Jungwon. He was already looking at you. There was no hesitation and no words. The two of you took off in sync, cutting through the street. Your heels hit pavement hard, your heart already in nurse mode. Someone stepped back to give space as you and Jungwon moved in. You slid down to your knees beside him, checking for vitals while Jungwon crouched opposite you. “Mid-50s,” he murmured quickly. “Breathing?”
“Yeah. Weak pulse. His skin’s clammy, might’ve triggered a vasovagal response,” you said, lifting his legs to restore blood flow. “Could’ve been pain or standing too long.”
“He’s coming to,” Jungwon said after a few moments. “Eyes fluttering.” The man stirred, groaning lowly. You leaned in. “You fainted, sir. Don’t sit up yet.”
When it was clear the man was stable and help was on the way, you and Jungwon stood. He looked at you, chest rising and falling. His hand reached instinctively for yours again. You took it. “Didn’t we say no work talk tonight?” you said with a tired smile.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied. “You’re the one who ran first.” You rolled your eyes, your fingers tightened around his. Then, he looked at you as he always did.
You were the one thing in this world he never wanted to lose.
SYN. arguments with your boyfriend, how you move past it
(𝕰𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋) . maknae line x fem!reader ✶ 5.2K angst, fluff, mention of pads in jungwon’s lol, idol x idol. + violence in ni-ki’s (not from him)
note . idk if yall can tell but i love the trope where the reader gets hurt after an argument and the man feels awful i just eat it up every time (음악 주세요!)
💐 TAGLIST + REQS OPEN!
kim sunoo
argument: you looked amazing. your hair was put up in a pretty updo and your makeup was neatly glowing on your excited face. after what felt like years, you and sunoo were going on an actual date.
for the past few months, sunoo has been absolutely swamped. work has been hard, demanding him for longer hours and overnight work trips. and although you did mind in a way, you were never going to turn your back on your boyfriend.
your support meant the world to him; everything you did for him never went unnoticed. you made bento boxes for him every day-- sometimes even packing him more than one in case they called him in for longer, you visited him during your breaks at work to see him at least once. you hated seeing him so overworked, but that’s what the job called for. unfortunately there was nothing you could do about that.
but after going so long with no big romantic gestures, sunoo finally asked you out on a fancy date.
he even asked you at your doorstep with a sign and a big bouquet of white flowers, even after coming back from a long day at work. his efforts warmed your heart, and to say you were excited was an understatement.
sunoo had initially planned to arrive early to watch you do your makeup and be all over you and your floor length red dress, but his boss had called him for a quick go-over for a presentation for a big client of his coming soon.
“i’m so sorry i couldn’t pick you up like the gentleman i wanted to be, baby.” you could practically feel his pout over the phone. “don’t worry sun, the reservation’s in a couple hours. you have time! i’ll be here sitting pretty and waiting for you.”
“you’re my dream girl, y/n. love you more than anything-- i’m so sorry again.” and that was that. sure, you were a little bummed your boyfriend got pulled into work on the one day he requested to leave early, but at least you could see him at the actual dinner! you had a little more of your makeup routine to finish anyways.
you weren’t too worried until the time of your reservation was approaching. you haven’t heard from sunoo since your last phone call where he had to leave due to his boss coming into the room.
hey babe should i order an uber to the place and meet u there or something?
delivered, 6:45pm
deciding not to wait for a response, you decided to order a ride to the restaurant instead. your reservation was set for 7:30, and booking it was not easy. your boss happened to know the owner, so you did have an easier way in, but you had to book the reservation months in advance in order for the two of you to take off early enough.
“hi, table for two? under kim?” you stood in front of the receptionist, awkwardly clutching your purse to your front. the girl in front of you looked around you, expecting your date to pop up out of nowhere. honestly, it was quite clear that you were too. “is the other party arriving later?” you nodded quickly, explaining that your boyfriend was just getting off work.
after she led you to your table, you were very adamant on not getting the menu until after sunoo showed up. you two loved deciding what to get together, it was like your little thing that helped you two learn more about each others tastes even after how long you two have been together.
so there you sat, alone in one of the nicest restaurants in the city, checking your phone persistently. waiting for anything-- anything-- from your boyfriend.
you done soon? i’m at the restaurant. waiting 4 u!!
delivered, 7:34pm
bro everyones looking at me 😭 pls hurry i miss u
delivered, 7:59pm
hi can i get any update? proof of life? literally anything?
delivered, 8:26pm
after around thirty to forty minutes of no sign of sunoo, the waitress came around to give you some appetizers. “on the house, you look too gorgeous not to eat. enjoy!” despite the compliment, that soured your mood even more. getting things “on the house” because not only did the staff feel bad for you, but the chef did too.
you sighed, a full hour and a half passed and you were almost done with your main dish with tension in your brows. ‘it wasn’t easy for me to take off work either,’ you thought. ‘nothing’s easy for me either. why am i chasing him to make sure life is easy for him when… i’m going through my own shit?’
suddenly you hear what should’ve been a relieving sound of your boyfriend’s sweet voice alerting the receptionist that he was your other party. his voice only angered you even more; how was he so calm after standing you up for almost two hours? he walked up to your table as if he had all the time in the world on his hands. his dark grey suit and slicked back hair suited him in more ways than one, but all you could think of was how unfair all this was.
“did you finally remember you had a girlfriend?” you could see his calm exterior twitch a bit.
“come on, babe. don’t be like that. you know work is hard.” at that, you roughly set down your utensils in anger.
“did you ever think to realize that maybe work is hard for me too?” his eyebrows raised for a second, before returning back to his usual calm. “to be honest? no. no, i didn’t.”
you couldn’t help but scoff. “of course you didn’t, because everything has to revolve around you, right?” he closed his eyes in agitation. “y/n what are you talking abo-”
“everything has to be done for you so that you can have the easy life. like how i make ten meals for you because i see you-- what, three times out of the week? or like how i slip that hard-to-find gum in your bag because you get migraines if you don’t eat those specific ones? or like making a reservation for a fancy and very exclusive restaurant that you asked me to go to?”
“i’m here now, can we just move on and have a good time? especially if this place was as hard to get as you were saying earlier.” you were slightly shocked at his ignorance.
“you think you’re gonna get a slap on the wrist for standing me up on our first date in months? what, all cause you had work?” his eyes bounced between yours, not knowing what to say. “fuck you, kim sunoo. i already booked a fucking uber home cause you decided to make me second priority again. you enjoy this place-- you know, cause it was ‘“so hard to get into”’ like i was saying earlier?”
he couldn’t do anything but watch as you pushed back from the table and walked out. he immediately felt embarrassed as he looked at the empty seat in front of him. was this how you felt? god, he felt awful.
solution: sunoo arrived at your shared apartment a lot later than you had expected. you haven’t spoken to him since you left the restaurant, the location sharing app that you were so adamant on him getting alerted him when you had arrived home. for some reason, that really made the gravity of the situation really settle in.
he wallowed alone in the restaurant for a bit, opting out of eating anything. it didn’t feel right without you there… he just wanted you. he even stopped by that 24 hour flower shop to get you your favorite ones-- he just wanted to hold anything that reminded him of you.
he walked into the dark bedroom to see your silhouette hidden under the covers. he could tell you weren’t sleeping; your stature was too stiff to be in deep sleep. sunoo knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew you knew that too.
“hey…” he sighed deeply, resting the flowers on your nightstand.
“i know you’re awake y/n.” he carefully sat on the tiny sliver of space on the edge of the bed. his hip rested slightly against your lower back so he didn’t overstep.
“you were right… at the dinner? if that’s even what i should call it… i have been making you my second priority.” he heard your breath hitch slightly. “and i haven’t been acknowledging your efforts as much as i should’ve.”
there was pure silence between you two for a minute, as if sunoo was thinking of what to say next. you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“i never realized how tough my needs must be for you. you’re a hardworking woman-- that, i never let myself forget. you never give me the chance to think twice about that, you know? you’re always five steps ahead when it comes to doing everything. it’s almost like it’s easy for you… i think that’s why i don’t think to realize that work is hard for you too.”
you could tell that sunoo has lost his composure now, dumping whatever he was thinking outloud for only the two of you to hear. you could also hear his initial nervousness calm down the more he spoke out his feelings.
“i never realized how much you moved your schedule around for me-- and just so you could talk to me for at least five minutes in the day? you’re really something, y/nie…” he chuckled to himself, thinking about the last time you brought him his very contrasting sweet drink compared to your hot green tea.
“and how you show me off to your co-workers so proudly, saying things like ‘“that’s my boyfriend--’” sometimes you even your husband!” he was fully smiling at this point, you could hear it in his tone.
you suddenly turned around to face the boy. somehow, the action alone left him stunned, but after a few blinks, his smile widened once more.
“you are the most compassionate, hardworking, and dependable person that i know, y/n. and you deserve to get spoiled rotten for all that you do.” his smile fell a little. “you deserve to be with a man who doesn’t stand you up on a date that he asked you to.”
you sat up quickly, brows furrowed. “i deserve you, kim sunoo. no matter how fucked up this situation is, i wouldn’t dream of being with anyone other than you, okay?”
“…i just want you to put me first sometimes, sun. is that really such a hard ask?” he shook his head aggressively, shifting closer to cup your face. “nothing is too much to ask, baby. you tell me what you want and i’ll do it. you want me to cut my hours down? i’ll get in touch with hr. you want me to transfer to a less busy company? i’ll start applying. you want me to quit my job? i’ll start drafting up my two weeks.”
“i want to go on a real date with my boyfriend, sunoo. and i want to enjoy it with you this time.” his eyes bounced between yours, really taking in what you said. suddenly, he reached for the bouquet of flowers laying on your nightstand.
“l/n y/n. will you please go on a second-but-technically-first date with me? i promise i will make you my first priority. i owe you that much…” he nervously watched as you pretended to think, before smiling softly at the cute boy.
“i think it’s a yes, kim sunoo. but if you stand me up again i will make you so sorry you won’t even kno--” he cut you off by pressing his lips against yours, smiling at the way you leaned in instantly.
“i promise on my life, y/n,” he mumbled against your mouth. “i’d rather lose my job than lose you.”
yang jungwon
argument: jungwon always had a bit of a habit at times. his overly-logical ways of thinking could sometimes overtake him, especially when faced with your overly-emotional tendencies that you grace him with. in all honesty, you welcomed it. his levelheadedness provided a kind of calm to the storm you were always used to. “yin and yang,” as the two of you would say.
however, his logical thinking provided both pros and cons to your relationship.
it was around one in the morning, and you were hurriedly typing emails to your professors after seeing so many of your grades dropping.
it had been a rough couple of weeks for you: your boss at your internship treated you like you were equivalent to the dirt on her shoe, someone hit your car in the university parking garage while you were parked, and your exam results came back and let’s just say all the studying you did had no purpose.
it’s not uncommon for you to be this unlucky, and it’s not uncommon for you to feel like it’s the end of the world everytime. but that’s you, and you couldn’t really control that. you’re a feeler with a big heart, and if you say the world is ending because the grade in your required course for your degree dropped to a 74%… then the world is ending! it never felt dramatic to you.
you were bawling your eyes out while jungwon sat on call with you. he was tired, yawning and sighing every five seconds. he was on his way to your dorm to spend some time with you after practice, but you called him before he got there so that he could provide you with some peace of mind.
“i tried so hard, won. i feel like the world just hates me, you know? why does everything always happen to me?” you hear jungwon sigh for the nth time.
“yeah, but the world doesn’t revolve around you, y/n. your problems are so small compared to other people in the world.” you feel guilt creep into your chest at his words.
“like you’re complaining about class and shit, but there are people who can’t even afford class. and you complain about your internship-- well some people would die for an internship. your car got hit? at least you got a car.” your eyebrows furrowed at your boyfriends exasperated tone.
“… i understand that, but does that apply to you when you complain about your hard days at work?” you hear a scoff coming from his end of the line. “that’s different.”
you sat up and wiped your tears. “how the fuck is it different, jungwon? with your logic, complaining about being a successful idol just means you’re ungrateful right? some people would die to be an idol.”
he was silent for a second, clearly surprised at your unusual confidence. you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“y/n, you know the shit i go through when it comes to this job. realistically speaking, my problems are just fucking bigger than yours. i go through things that you can’t even comprehend-- and you know what? if roles were reversed and you were an idol instead of me, you would be ten times more lost than you are out in the real world. especially since you don’t have much going on in your head.”
silence overtook the air as you sat, stunned to silence. to make things worse, you hear jungwon mutter “probably crying right now too…” and for some reason, that was what did it for you.
“tell your driver to turn the car back to your own dorms. i’ll handle my shit myself.”
“y/n--” you cut the call before he could say anything else.
after jungwon got home, he texted you about his safe arrival before sighing and throwing his phone on his bed. he didn’t even have the energy to check if you responded because he just “knew you would.”
see, his logical thinking gave him the ability to provide solutions for difficult situations. it gave him the ability to calm you down when you needed it most. it gave him the ability to debate articulately and coherently.
it also gave him a big ego. and a big ego comes with making his girlfriend feel stupid during arguments.
he stops himself sometimes-- like that one time when you two were arguing about how pads worked. he was so adamant that they “stuck to the woman,” that he started pulling out bullshit to at least sound logical. he hated that you (a girl) were practically laughing at his very false claim, but he quickly realized that he (a boy) has never even opened a pad before and accepted defeat.
you could tell that his ego was high due to his “always being right” mindset, especially from things like that pad argument. you never really minded it much since he understood your boundaries to an extent. times like these where he just had to make you feel stupid to make himself feel better? that was when your usual emotional exterior turned cold.
after his long shower, he picked his phone up from the bed while he rubbed his towel against his hair.
hey, just got home
seen, 1:46 am
that was almost thirty minutes ago. his eyebrow quirked at your lack of response.
i know i was harsh in the car but i was just really tired
seen, 2:21 am
he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in annoyance.
ykw y/n, goodnight
talk to me when stop being a fucking baby
delivered, 2:25 am
solution: the next morning, jungwon’s chest ached for a reason he wasn’t able to come to terms with yet. it was nine in the morning and you had class at eight, but when he turned to use his phone, his notification box was empty.
unfortunately for him and his tight schedule, he couldn't see you at all. and even more unfortunate for him, reading those last texts from him solidified your stubbornness... 'when you stop being a baby?' you truly felt your blood boil. your egos ended up getting the best of you two, and the silent treatment kept on for two more days.
but after three days of no you, he just couldn't take it anymore.
his apologies started off small. you woke up early like you always did so you could attend your early morning class, but this time, you were greeted with a bag of breakfast outside your door. one tiny note stuck on top reading: "have a good breakfast, pls don’t skip"
after your classes ended and you got ready for your internship, you arrived to your mini cubicle to see your favorite flowers dropped off at your desk. nothing more than a simple heart on a tiny note.
after your shift was over, you went to hang out with your friends for a much needed debrief. you were the first to get to the coffee shop that you were practically a regular at, so you opted to order with your friends when they arrived. your initial plan failed however, as the barista hand-delivered you your favorite things.
"y/n? some guy ordered your usual over the phone. someone named yang or something? let me know if you don’t know him and i’ll block the guy." you quickly reassured her that he was just your boyfriend most likely checking your location in his free time.
you finally made it back home after your packed day, holding all the gifts you got from your boyfriend that day. you were grateful of course, but you couldn’t help but wonder… still no jungwon? all you wanted was an apology from him in person.
you were about to make your way to the shower until you heard a feint knock on your door. to no surprise, jungwon stood leaning against the door frame with a bag from the convenience store.
“hey y/n…”
“hi won...” there was silence between you both, until he suddenly dropped the bag and pulled you for a tight hug. you stood for a minute, processing the quick affection, before returning the hug with equal amount of force.
“i’m so sorry y/n,” you heard him mutter against the crook of your neck. “i missed you so much…” you stayed silent, feeling your eyes begin to water at his touch. he pulled back just enough to see your face, his expression morphing into concern.
“oh, my baby…” you covered your face with your hands as you cried. he kissed your temple and pulled you back into a hug.
“i was so awful, wasn’t i? being tired doesn’t give me an excuse to be an asshole.” he pulled back to gently pull your hands away from your face.
“i want you to come to me when you’re frustrated. i want you to come to me when you need help. i want you to stay emotional, baby.” he cupped your face to thumb away the stray tears that slipped. “that’s you, and i love everything that makes you, you, y/n. understand?” you nodded.
“of course you understand, my smart girl.” he smiled and pulled you into a gentle kiss. it was clear you both missed each other as you both sighed into it.
“and just for the record,” he mumbled against your lips, “i’m the baby out of the two of us.” you laughed against him, pulling him into the apartment fully.
“don’t you ever forget that, yang jungwon.” it’s safe to say you guys definitely made up for lost time.
nishimura riki
argument: as two idols both constantly working towards a comeback, finding time for each other with your busy schedules was definitely… difficult.
yes, idol relationships were very inconvenient, but it wasn’t like you and riki planned to like eachother after working on a choreography together; he just happend to be everything you wanted, and vice versa. you two always made sure to talk in some way despite your equally busy schedules. it certainly helped that you two were under the same company as well. you were both pretty good at keeping each other close, for the most part.
recently, however, riki has been slipping away from you.
it started off small: no usual good morning texts, no check-ins in between breaks, no late night calls after practice. you were equally just as swamped, so you weren’t gonna hold it over his head for not giving you the attention you wanted.
then, during the times that he could talk, he started to get short tempered. you sent him a meme during your break, typing a short “reminded me of u,” under it. he replied back hours later, angry at you for “making him feel bad.”
you were usually open minded when it came to this stuff because you of all people knew what it was like to be stressed with schedules, but it got to the point where it started to affect your performance.
after you ran into riki and sunghoon on your way to the hybe cafe, a feeling of what should’ve been excitement was instead replaced with hurt. he didn’t even tell you that he dyed his hair-- he always told you when he dyed his hair.
and from there, your mind was always wandering. did you do something? it seemed like everything you said aggravated him in some way. you never wanted to be the insecure girlfriend, but could you even help it? your members even noticed your change in pace.
the next day, you decided that you were tired of his sudden switch in attitude and texted him to meet.
can i come over tn riki we rlly need to talk
riki <3 liked your message, 6:44 am
you hadn’t heard from him all day and it was driving you insane. was this just a tactic to keep him on your mind all day? what could you have done to make him purposely ignore you or be dry for weeks?
you stood at his door and brushed off your pants in a lame attempt at making yourself look presentable. coming to riki’s place has never made you this nervous before.
when he opened the door, you were greeted with a bored looking riki leaning against the door frame. when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, he moved out of the way silently signaling you to come inside.
“what was it you wanted talk about?” you couldn’t tell if he was tired or if he just didn’t care. you hesitated at first, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch. surprisingly he obliged, sitting on the cushions as you sat next to him.
“you know riki, i never wanted to be the insecure girlfriend. especially since we’re both in such an intense industry--” he sighed and leaned forward to rub his hands against his face in annoyance. “so i wanted to preface that i’m always here for you, okay? i never wanted to be a burden, i just wanna know what’s going on.”
“well, you are being a burden, y/n.” your expression merged into shock. “excuse me?” he stood up in front of you.
“you expect me to be there for you 24/7 when i’m going through my own shit and i’m tired of it.” your eyebrows furrowed, and suddenly your concern turned into anger.
“when the fuck have i given you that impression, riki?”
“always! you send me morning texts expecting a paragraph, you send me corny messages expecting a reaction, you do things and expect something in return everytime! it’s too much pressure, y/n… i’m so busy i don’t even have time to breathe-- let alone watch all of the stupid shit you send me.”
you feel your eyes start to water as hurt laced over your features. “all i was saying was that i’m your girlfriend, riki. you can’t just push me away when things get hard. it’s my job to help you--”
“you’re just being fucking clingy, y/n, how is that helping me?” pressure built in your palms.
“god, when have i been clingy? i let you ghost me for god knows how long because you can’t figure your shit out.” you stood up now, so close your chest was almost pressing against his.
“do you even love me anymore?” he groaned into his hands, craning his neck backwards. “there you go, making me feel bad again. of course i love you, y/n. my god…”
“… so why did you get so mean?”
he went silent. your broken voice penetrated him in a way that never has before, and although you couldn’t see it due to your vision blurring, his shoulders fell immediately at your soft tone.
you sniffled, quickly wiping away your stray tears as you began to gather your things. “where are you going, y/n?” he said quietly.
“home.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s too late, you shouldn’t.” you turned to him, anger filling your swollen eyes at his sudden switch in behavior.
“don’t act like you give a fuck, riki. you haven’t cared about me at all in these past few weeks. all i asked of you was to just tell me what’s going on because it seems to me that you don’t fucking care about me anymore. you dyed your hair for god’s sake! and i found out by chance?” you were fully crying at this point, and your boyfriend stood silent.
“i’m not gonna stay here and take the bullshit you’re giving me right now. i thought you knew me better than that.” and with that, you stormed out of his dorm with a loud bang of his front door, leaving him in an empty room thick with tension from his own doing.
solution: after you left, riki took a seat on the couch and stared off, wallowing in his thoughts. your words rang in his head like a mantra: “so why did you get so mean?” why did he get so mean?
he groaned, rubbing his face into his hands. after some time, he heard a door down the hallway creak open.
“hey man, everything alright? is y/n still here?” riki took his face out of his hands to see jake standing with concern in his features. “uh no. no she uh-- she left.” jake nodded slowly.
“do you wanna talk about it?”
so from there, jake joined the younger boy on the couch to hear about the events. he was just so exhausted; he hasn’t slept in weeks. you didn’t do anything but be yourself, but everything just seemed to piss him off. he felt guilt creep into him as he recounted what happened.
after about thirty minutes the ring of his phone broke the discussion, your name flashing on his screen. he took the call immediately with the intention of apologizing.
he automatically knew something wasn’t right, though. when he called out your name, an older woman answered instead.
“hello, is this this riki?”
“yes? who is this? where’s y/n?” riki responded, glancing at a confused jake.
“i’m the owner of the convenience store on myeongdong… i was given permission to use this young lady’s phone to call you? she was attacked outside my store.”
riki felt his whole world fall apart. he immediately ran to his room to pull on a hoodie and get his belongings, jake questioning him as he haphazardly put his shoes on.
“what-- what happened, is she okay?”
“i’m not entirely sure, but i came outside to take some trash out and saw her pinned to the ground by an older man. he looked like he was banging her head against the ground.” riki started to feel nauseous. “he was drunk, so i scared him off. i recognized her cause her songs always play in the shop, so i thought it was best to bring her inside. the cops and ambulance are on their way… she’s been asking for you.”
“o- - okay i’m on my way, please keep her phone charged and-- and yes she’s an idol-- please keep her safe.” his voice broke at the last sentence.
after hanging up, jake immediately ran up to him in panic, pulling his shoes on as well.
“y/n got attacked outside of some convenience store. i-- i have to go get her--”
“i’m taking you.”
riki didn’t even try to fight back. the chances of this happening was so rare… it was like the universe was punishing him for treating you like this.
by the time they arrived, the scene was littered with ambulances, police officers, even news outlets. there were drapes surrounding the area provided by the company that riki ultimately pushed past to get to you. his eyes watered immediately at the sight of your disheveled state.
you were sitting on the ledge of the truck, a blanket wrapped around your body. your eye was black and your head was wrapped with a thick white bandage.
“sir, you can’t be he--”
“riki?” you said weakly. he practically ran to you, gently cupping your face in his hands.
“i’m so sorry,” he whispered. “i’m so sorry, baby. i’ll listen to you forever. i’ll make you feel the most loved you’ve ever felt in your life. i’ll never push you away again-- i’ll do anything you want me to just please, never leave at night again.”
your eyes were closed due to the pulsing in your head, but you could hear him sobbing quietly. you faintly hear jake calling your manager and accessing with the emt’s. ‘thank god he didn’t come alone,’ you thought. in his shaken state, it wouldn’t have been good for him.
“it’s not your fault,” you whispered, opening your eyes slightly to see him crying harder and shaking his head. “no-- it is. i shouldn’t have let you leave so late. i shouldn’t have treated you like that. i don’t even know what came over me, y/n. i shouldn’t have been so mean. i sh--”
“riki.” he looked up from the ground to meet your eyes.
“i promise you, this isn’t your fault, okay?“ you wiped his tears as he leaned into your touch. “i trust you, ki. if you say you’re gonna make me feel loved, then you will. and you have. i just wish i could’ve told you that without a black eye and a concussion.”
he let out a weak laugh at your poor attempt at humor, looking into your eyes with so much love. he adored you more than anything, and he almost got a taste of what it was like to lose you. he leaned his forehead against yours as gently as he could.
“i was gonna call you to apologize,” he whispered. you closed your eyes again, smiling softly at his confession.
“i was on my way back to yours myself…”
kissing your bandage, he smiled against the fabric. “we might be perfect for each other, you big loser. never do this to me again, my love.”
“oh, you too nishimura… you are far from off the hook, blondie. just wait until my face stops hurting, and you’re cooked.”
a/n: sorry if that was beyond ass it’s midterm season
☆ spiderman! jungwon x fem! reader
☆ summary: spider-man was the city's strongest hero: a crime-fighter, a man of the people, and... a loverboy? it's been months since jungwon, the identity behind the powerful spider-man persona, broke up with you. somehow, even with the entire city's fate resting on his shoulders, his biggest concern still remains whether or not he will ever get to see you again.
☆ genre: spider-man! au, exes to lovers, JUNGWON YEARNINGGG, slooooow burn, college! au, jealousy, angst, pining, SEXUAL TENSION & YEARNING
☆ word count: 24.4k words
☆ my long awaited... im sorry guys i was genuinely going through hell and back when i was writing this but its okay papa vanya pulled through, for my dearest @ashtxrie
Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, bated breaths tearing from his lips.
Not again, he thought to himself, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He could feel his loose t-shirt sticking to his skin, the heat from under his blanket too sweltering to endure that he had to throw it off of him. His cat-like eyes flickered to the window beside his bed. The moon gleamed so charmingly, streaming bright slivers of light through his window. And yet, all Jungwon could do is shiver into his hot skin.
It’s been almost 6 months since Jungwon broke up with you. 6 months since he’s been genuinely happy.
And for the past 6 months, Jungwon has been having the same nightmare every night. The nightmare that ended the same way no matter what Jungwon’s brain wired itself to conjure up: with you dying in his arms.
Jungwon shuddered. It was the middle of summer. Even when it was late in the depths of night, beads of cold sweat managed to find their way back onto Jungwon’s neck. Sitting up on his bed, his knees pressed against his chest, Jungwon’s heart pounded in his ribcage, so loud that he could hear it in his ears, yet his fear was so quiet in his heart.
His eyes flickered around his dark bedroom. He needed to call you, he thought. Images of your dying face, choked sobs, and teary voice flooded his memory. It made Jungwon’s eyes line with hot tears, as they always did whenever this nightmare returned to him. He needed to call you, to make sure that you were okay, that his greatest fears hadn’t come true.
Jungwon's hand, still trembling, reached out for his bedside table. If he ignored the empty coffee cups cluttered on it, or the way he had hundreds of ignored messages and call notifications, he would have slowed down. And just as he searched up your name in his contacts, his shaking fingers about to call you, he stopped.
Oh right. He’s not with you anymore.
6 months is a long time. Apparently not long enough for Jungwon to forget his feelings for you.
If his chest wasn’t already aching, it was now. It was him that broke up with you. It was him that chose to break your heart. It was him that chose to leave you crumbling to your knees, tears spilling from your eyes as you silently begged him to stay.
And maybe that was his biggest regret.
Jungwon stared at his hands. He gazed each callous on his palm, every single scar and scratch still evident on his skin. His eyes glazed over the black spider-like veins on his wrists.
No, there was no time to mull over you. Not when there was an imminent threat in this city. Slapping his cheeks awake, Jungwon huffed before climbing out of bed. There was no way he would be able to fall asleep anyway. He might as well distract himself with something productive. Start early.
His eyes fluttered back to his moonlit window. Ah, fuck it.
Jungwon had a secret.
A secret that he kept guarded day in and day out, like his life depended on it. And the truth was, his life did depend on it.
Ignoring the way the red and blue spandex felt particularly uncomfortable as it stuck to his still-sweaty skin, Jungwon shot a sticky white web at a building. He gazed at the web that had ejected from his wrist, before peering over the ledge. In this busy city, it seemed like no road was ever going to be completely empty, not even in the depths of night. There were still people roaming the streets, noisy cars honking at one another with their tires screeching.
You hated heights, was the resounding thought that clouded his head as he looked down to the city below him. Once again, Jungwon's heart tightened in his chest, and he shook his head.
He needed to stop thinking about you. You probably already stopped caring about him anyway. You're a pretty girl, even before you and him broke up there was already a line of guys waiting for you to be single. Jungwon wouldn't be surprised if a girl like you already found someone else.
Someone better. Someone that wasn't a damn coward like Jungwon was.
Jungwon let his eyes fall shut, relishing in the way that the cool summer night air brushed against him. It's hard. To let you go, to accept that what once was his could be someone else's.
He looked back down to his gloved hands, the same hands that have been fighting crime for the past 6 months, the same hands that were responsible for the safety of this city, the same hands that touched your pretty face, the same hands that have brought criminals to justice.
It was all blurring together. Jungwon dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He needed to let you go, before his mind devoured him. He needed to let you go, before his identity as Spider-Man, the number one crime-fighter in this city, gets inevitably revealed, and he has to witness you die for the hundredth time. But for real this time.
"Damn, you look like shit."
Jungwon rolled his eyes at his friend's comment, sighing loudly as he flipped through the pages of his textbook. "Didn't get much sleep last night."
Look, Jungwon is a college student. Although his Spider-Man gig was pretty good at paying him, he wanted to contribute to his community in another way. Like through tutoring the local kids.
"Why are you even studying basic elementary algebra?— you're a film major!" Jungwon's good friend Sunghoon Park was a great guy. A little rambunctious, but still a good friend. But not right now.
Jungwon had agreed to have a quote un-quote "study date" with Sunghoon at the coffee shop below Jungwon's apartment complex. Jungwon was a little proud that his friend suddenly wanted to study with him (such intellectual vitality!), but seeing as all Sunghoon has been doing for the past 30 minutes is scrolling on his phone and looking around conspicuously tells Jungwon otherwise. Sunghoon didn't even order a coffee or soak in the scent of warm coffee beans in the coffee shop. He just sat there.
Jungwon shot a look at Sunghoon. "This kid that I'm tutoring, apparently he's not very good at math."
Sunghoon nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as his thick brows quivered.
"Okay..." he said slowly, his vowels drawing out. "But why do you need to study for it? Don't you like—" the man made a face— "Already know how to do basic math?"
Jungwon opened his mouth to explain that he's not necessarily trying to review elementary math, but moreso trying to figure how to teach it, but he was cut off by Sunghoon's continued rambling.
"—Like shouldn't you know how to add apples? Like if Sally has 2 apples and she gets 3 more, how many does she..." Sunghoon trailed off when he saw Jungwon's completely vacant, unamused expression. Jungwon clicked his tongue, going back to his very informative reading. However, he could practically feel Sunghoon staring at him, to the point that it felt like he was burning holes into Jungwon's person.
Jungwon let out another annoyed sigh. When he looked up to Sunghoon very obviously staring at him, his friend comically looked away. As if Sunghoon was fooling anyone.
"Do I have three heads?" Jungwon asked bluntly.
"What?"
Jungwon huffed, leaning back in his seat. "You keep looking at me. What is it?"
Sunghoon blinked. Jungwon watched as his older friend's Adam's apple bobbed. The once relaxed, though awkward, expression on Sunghoon's face wiped almost immediately, being replaced with a deeply uncomfortable and uneasy one. He squirmed in his seat, his dark eyes darting around the coffee shop in silence.
"Are you okay?"
But instead of answering, Sunghoon just shoved his face into his hands, muttering something under his breath that Jungwon couldn't make out.
Finally, Sunghoon finished his mini-mental breakdown and looked at Jungwon. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes Sunghoon went from looking perfectly fine to looking like he just went through hell.
"Jungwon." Sunghoon finally said, his voice solemn. Which was weird, because when is Sunghoon ever serious? To add to Jungwon's bewilderment, Sunghoon reached across the table, taking hold of Jungwon's hands. His expression was so comically somber that Jungwon thought he was joking. "I have something to tell you."
Jungwon rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting. "Yeah, yeah, get on with your little bit—"
"I"m serious." Sunghoon looked around again, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. He leaned in closer to Jungwon, his voice dropping to as low as a whisper. "It's serious."
Jungwon's brows knitted together, his expression pinching in pure confusion. "What are you talking abou—"
Sunghoon squeezed Jungwon's hand from across the table. His friend took a deep breath, before earnestly facing Jungwon. "What I'm about to tell you, you didn't hear it from me."
"Just—" Jungwon's scowl deepened. "Just tell me already, dude!"
Usually Sunghoon would react, but he just shook his head solemnly. Sunghoon took another deep breath, before he opened his mouth and let words tumble out: "She has a blind date. This weekend."
Jungwon blinked slowly. "Um. Who?"
Sunghoon looked like he was going to shit himself. "You know...."
Jungwon didn't know. Jungwon literally does not talk to anyone except a select few of his friends. And none of them are girls. "I don't, though...?"
Sunghoon sucked in another sharp breath, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. "Your... Your girl."
Oh. Jungwon's heart sank to his stomach. That's not... what he expected. Not in the slightest. And the way that Sunghoon physically flinched as he revealed such information didn't make Jungwon feel any better.
"Who... told you that?"
Sunghoon pressed his lips together, forming a line as thin as paper. "You know my coworker? Wonyoung? She's [Name]'s good friend and she's been boasting how she hooked her up to this guy."
But Jungwon tuned Sunghoon out after that. Maybe if Jungwon had a better grip he would have calmly explained that you were not his anymore. It’s not like your breakup was a secret, and if there was anyone who had to bear witness to Jungwon's abject gloominess, it would be Sunghoon. Jungwon couldn't understand why his friends still referred to you as his, even when they were well-aware of the fact that you two were separated.
"C'mon, man, we all know you still want her," was a sentiment echoed by all of his friends.
And they were right. As if they could see through Jungwon's quiet exterior, his robotic composure so keen on hiding his true feelings.
Sunghoon's words fell upon deaf ears. If he did listen, he would hear Sunghoon pleading Jungwon to let go of this act, to stop putting up walls, to finally admit that he was wrecking himself from the inside out by continuing to act like he no longer cared for you.
Jungwon stared blankly at the coffee shop table. The pain in his chest no longer felt new. It felt more like a constant.
In his pencil case he still had the expensive mechanical pencil that you gifted him. Its silver ridges were practically molded to the curves of his fingers. The capsule of lead that came with the pencil only had a few pieces left. When he studied he still listened to the same songs that you introduced to him, the same songs that you and him kissed to as the two of you laid in his bed, and—
Jungwon thought he was okay. And for the first few weeks, he really was just fine. After all, he'd convinced himself that it was all for the better. But Jungwon knew that he'd break sooner or later. And it would be now.
It seemed like in every waking moment, you still managed to consume his thoughts.
All roads led back to you.
As Jungwon swung from building to building, he tried his best to clear his mind. As he always did.
After his little coffee chat (disaster?) with Sunghoon, Jungwon had excused himself to go to some "work." When really, he was just reporting for duty as Spider-Man. Feeling the wind against him as he swung around the city, the thrill of nearly flying through the air, was always useful whenever Jungwon had a lot on his mind. Like always, Jungwon checked his usual stops: banks, daycares, financial and business centers, just to make sure that no one was rumpling with civilians' safety.
Lately, it hasn't really been working. But what did he expect?
The bright summer sun, blaring its orange-yellow light, was now dipping into the horizon. The air smelled like gasoline and peaches, and yet, Jungwon couldn't even relish in the tranquility. Jungwon didn't know why he kept thinking about you. The thought of you going on a date at all with someone else made him feel sick to his stomach. His gut twisted as images of you laughing and smiling flashed through his mind. It hurt so bad, so damn bad.
A few more times of helping kids cross the road, or giving an elderly person some directions, and Jungwon felt like his legs were going to give out. Which was strange.
As Spider-Man, Jungwon was cursed with enhanced senses and incredible regeneration abilities. Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Jungwon never had to experience feeling physically worn out.
Not until right now. Jungwon slumped against the wall in the back alley, the cool stone pressing against his cheek. He looked down at his hands— was he sick? Losing his abilities? Seriously, what was wrong with him? His body was feeling uncharacteristically warm, like he was burning up from the inside. His eyelids felt heavy, while his legs felt like jelly.
And maybe Jungwon would have passed out in that alleyway if it weren't for the god-awful sound of his cellphone ringing.
Kriiiing! Kriiiing! Mindlessly, he picked up the call. "Hello?" Jungwon breathed, pushing nearly all of his body weight against the cold wall for support. He laid his head back, exhausted in ways that he couldn't explain.
A familiar voice greeted his ears. "Hey, it's Sunghoon."
Jungwon gritted his teeth. Not again. "I'm not interested—"
"Listen." Sunghoon said, his voice earnest. "I'm sorry about what I said today, but—"
Jungwon's lips pressed together. How shameful. It must be so shameful, the fact that everyone knew that Jungwon was suffering so much, that it was so obvious.
"—Me and the guys are going out this weekend," Sunghoon's gravelly voice said over the phone. "And we thought that you should really come with us."
Without even realizing it, Jungwon's breath got caught in his throat. He swallowed the lump, his voice coming out so much weaker than he wanted it to, "Like I said, I'm not interested—"
"Jungwon," Sunghoon pleaded. "You... You haven't been yourself lately. We know that you're struggling right now—we're worried about you. Please, just let us be there for you."
Jungwon felt so humiliated. Ashamed even, at the way Sunghoon's voice was filled with so much sympathy. So much pity.
Jungwon wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at Sunghoon and all of his friends for not minding their damn business, for treating him like he was some charity case.
But as Jungwon's eyes traced his shadow on the road, his phone to his ear, Jungwon wanted to shout at himself, for being so weak, for being a coward, for pushing people away, for having an ego so fragile that he felt threatened by his own friend caring about him.
How pathetic. And Jungwon has the gall to call himself a hero?
Jungwon clicked his tongue. "Okay, I'll be. there."
Jungwon wasn't stupid.
He knew exactly why his friends called him out tonight. It was to distract him from the fact that on this same night, you'd be going on your date.
The plan was to all meet up at Jake's apartment, and then go to the club from there. The moment that he arrived at Jake's apartment, he scurried to the bathroom.
Jungwon stared into Jake's bathroom mirror. The entire cramped bathroom smelled like strong fumes of manly cologne and hair spray. From inside, he could hear the muffled bantering of his friends, probably arguing about who would be driving.
His eyes glazed over the tight black compression shirt that clung to his chest, the dark-washed ripped jeans hanging from his hips. It's been a while since Jungwon utilized his pierced ears, and he figured that he'd put in some simple flat black studs before the piercings inevitably closed up. On his wrist, Jungwon had mindlessly slipped on the braided tassel bracelet that you made him; it was still hanging around his room, and he had forgotten that it was from you. Despite that, he didn't have the heart to take it off and shove into his pocket.
Jungwon couldn't recognize himself. It wasn't just the breakup that ruined him.
Sure, losing you was probably one of the greatest losses in his entire life, he was sure of that. But since then, Jungwon has also purposely distanced himself from his friends. He stopped responding to their messages and going to big group outings.
He could hear Jay's howling laughter and Jake's shouting, all sounds that should be completely familiar to him. And yet, there he was, feeling awkward.
He felt like staying in this bathroom until someone noticed that he was absent.
Click! But that wasn't what Spider-Man's do.
Jungwon cracked the bathroom door open, and the moment that he stepped into the hallway, revealing his blank expression, all of his friends whipped their heads. Jungwon could feel their eyes on him, staring at him like he was some anomaly, and for a second, he regretted even agreeing to hang out with them.
He hadn't seen these guys all together in so long. In fact, Jungwon hadn't been in a personal group setting for months now. He wasn't going to lie and say that showing his face to the friends that he strayed away from made him feel uneasy.
But almost immediately, his friends' faces cracked with large grins, whooping his name.
"Jungwon!" Jake delighted as Heeseung threw an arm around Jungwon's shoulder, pulling him snugly to the side of him.
Jay's sharp features morphed into a big, boyish smile, his lips forming a curve. Jay brought up a hand to dap Jungwon up, and Jungwon received it. "Hey, man."
Sunghoon followed behind him, his sharp canine teeth revealing as he chuckled. "Glad you could make it, Jungwon."
Jungwon felt unnatural. Out of place, like a fish out of water. When was the last time he was around people that enjoyed his presence? Other than the group of middle schoolers that cheered him on when he dashed through the air, or the middle aged women at the local library club that doted on him, Jungwon couldn't remember clearly.
For all the months that Jungwon tore himself away from his friends, he didn't know what was more surprising, that his friends still wanted something to do with him, or that nothing had changed while he was gone.
Sunoo's eyes still pressed into thin crescents as he threw his head back, laughing at something stupid Riki said. Heeseung still pulled Jungwon into a headlock, aggressively scruffling his head and ruining his hair despite Jungwon's complaints. Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon still liked to argue loudly, their voices reaching volumes so high that Jungwon was sure they'd get a noise complaint before even leaving.
And as Jay and Sunghoon wrestled, falling onto Jake's couch, the room erupted with the same familiar howling laughter and quips that Jungwon had forgotten how much he loved.
As Riki jumped in to join in the pseudo-wrestling match, Sunoo chanting "fight, fight, fight!," and Heeseung and Jake acting as refs, Jungwon gaped at the scene.
The boys that he's grown up with, the boys that had seen him grow from a wimpy little middle schooler into a strong adult, the boys that never failed to make him laugh— have stayed the exact same.
And for the first time in a while, Jungwon felt his lips lift up, soft giggles erupting from his chest as his eyes squeezed shut. It was such a foreign feeling, and an even more foreign sound.
His friends seemed to think the same. In an instant, the room fell silent. Once again, Jungwon felt all eyes on him.
But before Jungwon's mind could play tricks on him, Riki dashed over to him, throwing the older boy over his shoulder and throwing him on the couch.
"You son of bitch, Jungwon!" Riki laughed affectionately, beginning a tickling assault on him.
Once again, Jake's apartment was engulfed in chaos and laughter.
Well, after being tickled so hard that he almost started crying, as well as a well-deserved noise complaint from Jake's neighbors, Jungwon and his friends finally decided to go to the club. Which was their plan all along, but it wasn't any of their faults that messing around in Jake's home was more fun. And plus, Jungwon accidentally used too much of his spider abilities and body slammed Riki so hard that they all needed a momentary time-out to get Riki an ice pack for his head ("How the hell did you get so strong?!" was what Riki was more concerned about than the giant red mark on his forehead).
Bright strobing lights, the smell of sweaty bodies and alcohol, and the sound of techno music filled all of Jungwon's senses.
And with the encouragement of his rowdy, unruly friends, Jungwon sucked in sharp breath.
Fuck it.
Whatever worries he had now, or whoever was breaking his heart, he was going to forget it. He was going to pretend that it never existed, that it never hurt him, that he was okay.
Just for tonight, just for his friends.
"C'mon!" Jake pulled Jungwon by his arm to the bar. The older boy ordered the two of them a few shots. As they waited for the bartender to prepare their drinks, Jake and Jungwon sat on the barstools. In the corner of Jungwon's eyes, he could see his other friends fucking around like they always did.
"Would it hurt them to have some class?" Jungwon muttered playfully, unable to hide his amusement when Heeseung slipped and fell on the dance floor.
"Nah, class is a foreign concept to them." Jake let a bashful smile spread on his face, his gelled hair falling over his eyes. The older man tapped his fingers on the bar counter to the electric music loudly blasting.
Jungwon grinned, and the two sat in a comfortable silence, before Jake opened his mouth again.
"We missed having you around, you know."
Jungwon whipped his head over to his friend. He quirked a brow. "Really?"
Jake put a hand on the back of his neck, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. "Yup." Jungwon followed his eyes, back to their friends that were now teasing Jay for his wild dance moves. "I think you're the smartest out of all of us."
"That's not true."
Jake shook his head. "Nah, you should have seen us. Me and Sunoo were trying to figure out how to do taxes. Never again."
As the bartender served up their drinks, Jungwon turned back to Jake, who continued, "I know you're having a hard time, but just know that we're here for you."
Jake raised the shot glass filled with a golden brown liquid— "Cheers."
Jungwon smiled.
Clink! Their shot glasses collided.
"Cheers." And with that, Jungwon threw the shot back, the bitter taste on his tastebuds burning so hard that it reached his nose. Almost immediately, Jungwon's expression turned sour, his nose scrunching at the taste. "Blegh— How do you drink this?!"
Jake shrugged. "You'll get used to it if you drink enough."
Jungwon hunched over the bar counter, his elbows on the counter as he held his hands in his head. He shook his head. "Never again. That's nasty."
A few moments of silence pass. Jungwon slid his empty shot glass over. "Give me another shot."
Despite being an adult, Jungwon had forgotten what it felt like to party.
The thrumming of the techno music that filled the club felt like it was stringing directly through Jungwon, droning through his head. After a few shots and buzzed laughs with Jake, Jungwon was tipsy enough that his body felt weightless. Weightless enough to find himself on the dance floor.
As his strong body moved to the music, Jungwon felt the rhythm of the music. His mind was hazy, nebulous as the alcohol in his system began to take over. Jungwon's head felt warm, and his vision despite his spider senses was more blurry than usual. But that didn't matter.
Blood was rushing all over Jungwon's body. His cheeks felt warm, and he couldn't tell if it was his enhanced spidey-senses or if the music was just that loud that he could physically feel the hum in his chest.
Then, the music switched from an upbeat electronic sound, to a slower, more melodic one. Jungwon swore he recognized the song, but he couldn't name it. Jungwon felt the multiple bodies of the room brush against him, before he felt one directly press up against him.
It was clearly a woman. Jungwon let his eyes shut as he let his body take reign.
Swaying to the gradual beat, Jungwon found his hands on this new woman's body. As his chest pulsed to the song, he took in her scent, he could smell sweet, floral nodes. He could barely feel his feet below him, and for a few moments, he felt like he was going to float off of the ground. And just as Jungwon thought he was going to ascend, he felt two manicured hands on his chest. His hands slid down to her hips, squeezing them, which earned him a sultry giggle.
If Jungwon weren't drunk, he may have jumped away the moment he realized that a woman was practically grinding on him. But the alcohol was too deep in his system, and he was too far gone. Even with his eyes closed, Jungwon could feel everything so intensely. He felt fingers reach for his belt loops, pulling him along.
As the music slowed to a stop, momentarily invading the usually bumping club in a hushed silence, Jungwon felt the woman lean into his ear.
"So handsome," she rasped, her warm breath brushing against his skin.
And as the chills trickled down his spine, the music finally came back on. And strangely enough, even though they were, in fact, inside a partying club, the music that blasted from the speakers was the complete opposite.
A slow piano, rich and deep vocals, and a romantic cadence.
Even in his drunken state, Jungwon immediately recognized this song at the first lyrics. Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Preseley. Without a doubt, it was this song.
How did Jungwon know? Because this was the song that you and him loved to slow dance to on your kitchen floor. And just like that, Jungwon's mind drifted into the deepest pits of his mind, the parts that he'd locked away.
In his mind, he saw you and him swaying to this song. You and him both wearing matching aprons, giggling as you attempted to slow dance. He saw the way you'd look at him, with those beautiful eyes that he could never refuse. He saw the way you said his name with a smile that he could never forget, not even in a million lifetimes.
Then, he saw flickering images of you and him: you and him holding each other in the winter to keep each other warm, you and him crying into each other's arms, you and him arguing over something so silly that you just ended up bursting out laughing.
And for a moment, it felt like you were there. Another body up against his, dancing so rhythmically that for a split second, Jungwon could pretend that it was you.
And in the depths of his heart, he prayed that it was you.
He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this nightmare would end, and he would get to see you. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, he would see you, staring up at him with those same beautiful, glossy eyes. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this song would end, and he could scoop you up and bring you home, to show you all the love that he desperately wanted to give you.
But as Elvis Preseley's resonant voice sang earnestly, Jungwon's eyes slowly peeled open to not see you, but another woman.
A woman that was not you.
"N-Not her," Jungwon's lips quivered, his body instantly pulling away. His feet stumbled, in an attempt to tear away from her grasp. Jungwon ignored the way the woman attempted to pull him back, calling out to him.
In his intoxicated state, Jungwon felt hot tears line his eyes as he staggered away.
Not you. She wasn't you. It didn't matter, in fact. No one was you.
It didn't matter what Jungwon tried to do, his heart kept going back to you.
His head was spinning. Jungwon could barely control his body as he bursted out of the doors of the club, and even less, he couldn't control the tears that were now staining his cheeks. The expensive bottle of water that the club had at the entrance was completely chugged down in a single swish, minus Jungwon's struggles to manage his soft sobbing.
Even with water in his system, Jungwon's head was still spinning. His vision was swirling. Finally, after faltering for a few moments, Jungwon found himself sitting on the stairs at the entrance of the club.
As his vision cleared up, the alcohol in his system slowly washing away, Jungwon brought his hand to his mouth, to muffle the sounds of his crying.
Maybe he was just drunk, but the tears were just not stopping. Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, labored and stammering breaths rising from his chest. His hot tears were beginning to burn his eyes.
Even from outside, he could still hear Elvis Preseley's vocalization.
Damn it, did he have to ruin tonight? Jungwon pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face into his knees. His jeans were getting wet with his tears, and the late-night breeze was getting chilly.
In fact, everything was hurting.
Why couldn't he just forget you? Why couldn't he just let you go? Why did he still yearn for you?
Jungwon lifted his head. He could see his hunched figure in his shadow on the ground. How pathetic of him. He hasn't cried in a long time. It felt weird. It didn't feel like him.
Jungwon looked at the spider-like black veins on his wrist. Why was he cursed? Why did it have to be him? He wasn't worthy, he would never be worthy of being Spider-Man. Jungwon didn't ask to be bitten. He didn't ask for that stupidly rich and ignorant scientist to come to him and urge him to use his powers for good. He didn't ask for this responsibility. He didn't ask for anything, except you.
"With great power comes great responsibility," was what he was told the moment the scientists found him. And Jungwon really believed in it. He used his strength to help the weak, he gave others the power that they couldn't have, he protected the love that others cherished.
But couldn't keep any for himself.
After Jungwon's initial honeymoon phase with his newfound spider abilities, he realized something that changed his entire life forever. That he was no longer safe, and even more, everyone that he loved was no longer safe. And Jungwon thought he was strong enough; he thought that he could let you and all of his friends go slowly to protect you all. But he simply wasn't.
And Jungwon felt so damn selfish. He felt like a greedy bastard, someone who couldn't sacrifice himself for the good of others. Why was he even crying? There were people in danger right now, and here he was crying because he missed the girl of his dreams? How pathetic.
But he wanted you so bad.
Jungwon never wanted anything in life. All his life, he was obedient like a dog. He did everything that others asked of him. He always tried his best, always valued his righteousness, always did what was right.
But now, all he wanted was you.
He's never wanted anything, but the moment that he wants you, he couldn't have you.
Here he was, crying like some idiot all alone while you were probably still on that date. God, he wished Sunghoon never told him. He tried his best for the past few days to just not think about it, but now Jungwon had to truly face the fact that you've already moved on. His chest felt like it was going to burst.
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his fist to muffle his sobs even more. Maybe he should just go home. It's cold, it's uncomfortable, it's unsanitary, and most of all, Jungwon felt like shit.
As Jungwon stumbled to his feet, he sucked in one more breath. It still smelled like alcohol, with a scent of cigarettes. Then, he looked at the bustling road across the street. Somewhere out there, you were laughing with another man. Probably kissing him, calling him the same names that you'd call Jungwon.
God, it made him physically ill. Jungwon brought the back of his hand to wipe his nose one more time. He was going to go home. He'll leave a call for Heeseung or something later.
But before he could even take another step—
Boom!
Jungwon looked up at the sky. Even when it was dark, he could see a large cloud of black smoke. And now, he heard police sirens in the distance and the screaming of civilians.
Shit.
You fiddled with your fingers, bouncing your knee in anticipation to the beat of the 2010's pop song that your taxi driver chose.
Damn it, Wonyoung, you thought. You glanced down at the dress that your best friend chose for you. In the reflection of the backseat car window you caught your made up face. The blush on your cheeks, your curled lashes, the lip gloss. You thought you looked pretty.
Your eyes fluttered to your phone resting in your lap. The latest notification was from Wonyoung, telling you good luck and that you looked pretty. You couldn't help but smile.
It's been 6 months since your boyfriend Jungwon broke up with you. And frankly, it's probably been the worst 6 months of your life.
Words could not describe the types of pain and downright suffering that you went through. You cried for weeks straight, and up until recently, you hadn't had the motivation to really do anything.
The breakup was so unexpected, too. One day you and Jungwon were laughing, the next he left you. You couldn't understand why, and it wasn't like Jungwon gave you a succinct reason either. All he had said was that he was sorry, and that he had no other choice.
And the worst part was, you still weren't over your ex.
All that pain for nothing, you thought as your eyes followed the cars that passed your taxi. Your best friend, Wonyoung, on the other hand, had had enough.
"I don't like seeing you like this," Wonyoung had told you one night, as you cried into her shoulder. Despite what she showed others with her bubbly personality, her voice was stern. "It's not fair to you."
And you knew she was right. Which was why you let her set you up on a date with one of her colleagues. You figured that it was time that you stopped mulling over a man that couldn't stay anyway.
It's been so long in general since you even considered looking at someone else that wasn't Jungwon. And for a reason that you couldn't explain, it didn't feel right. And yet, you pushed it to the back of your head as you stepped out of the taxi.
The restaurant that your date, a guy named Haruto Watanabe, chose was a semi-formal one, called Bisco's Palace. You thought that name was a little bit corny, but you brushed it off. Thick stone walls, yellow-orange moody lighting, and an elegant grassy hedge at the entrance. It looked like a fairytale, and because of the beautiful dress that Wonyoung made you wear, you felt like you were in a fairytale.
When you arrived, you were met with a tall man with sharp features.
"Haruto?" you asked. He turned to look at you. You watched as his eyes widened, before he gave you a once-over.
"[N-Name]?" he spluttered. You recognized the look on his face. It was the look on a man's face whenever he found a woman attractive, and unfortunately, you were no stranger to it. "You look— You look beautiful."
If you were someone else, maybe you'd feel flattered. It's not every day that a good-looking man calls you beautiful. But all you felt was a sense of unease. Not that it was his fault; there was nothing intrinsically wrong with him. You just didn't know why you felt so uncomfortable.
You fought back the urge to make a face, and you instead forced a tight-lipped smile.
"Thank you." Now it was your turn to look him over. He was wearing a crisp button-up with slacks. He looked well put-together. "You look great too."
Haruto visibly turned pink, and he muttered something under his breath as he averted his gaze. Finally, he cleared his throat, extending his hand out to you. "Shall we go in?"
You narrowed your eyes at him, before you took his hand curtly. "Of course."
The two of you were quickly seated, and after being greeted by a cheery waitress that was clearly still in high school, your food was ordered and served in a timely manner. If you were to be honest, you weren't exactly too invested in tonight's date. Even if you agreed to it to get over Jungwon, you knew that your heart wasn't there yet.
Not to say that Haruto wasn't a sweetheart. He was polite, had very good manners, and was very respectful toward you. He tried his best to keep a flowing conversation with you, and in recognizing his efforts, you simply just went along with him. He was handsome and a well-natured guy. And, the food was great. Everything was to your taste, from the appetizers to the drinks to the dessert. The wait staff were also on top of it. As a whole, the restaurant was just perfect. The lights, the music, even how cushioned the chairs were.
Like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect. Perfect man, perfect food, perfect night. But it just wasn't good enough.
You felt nothing for Haruto, not even an ounce of interest. And as much as you didn't want to admit it, you knew why you were like this: Because he wasn't Jungwon.
There was nothing "Jungwon" about this date. Haruto certainly wasn't Jungwon, but everything about this date was nothing like how you liked to be treated. You liked to laugh and to get into dynamic discussions about silly topics, ones that didn't even matter. Haruto was so sweet, but he couldn't match your level of wit. While the food was tasty, you didn't want something so stringent and formal. You'd rather do something together with your date, to get to know each other better rather than sitting at a candle-lit restaurant.
Who would have known all of this? Who would have allowed you to do all of these things regardless of the environment? Who did your heart still stubbornly belong to?
Jungwon.
You let out a forced laugh at one of Haruto's jokes before excusing yourself to the washroom.
Shhhhh! As the sink water ran, you stared at your reflection. Even your makeup was done in a way that you knew Jungwon liked. The lipgloss in your purse was the same one that he bought you all those months ago. You didn't even know if you had the heart to use it up.
You thought that you were doing better. But it seemed like time and space only made your heart grow fonder.
It was getting later into the night now. And against your better judgment, you wondered what Jungwon was doing. Maybe he's playing video games. Or reading all of the superhero comics that he loved to collect.
Then, your mind wandered. What if he was with another girl? Your chest overwhelmed itself with unimaginable hurt. He never gave you a real explanation as to why he wanted to end things, and seemingly, his closest friends couldn't either. You'd be lying if you said that your mind didn't betray you, wandering to all of the darkest places.
Your eyes traced your own face in the mirror. Would Jungwon do that to you? Was he really the type to be unfaithful?
You knew the answer: no. Never. Jungwon was many things, and a cold-hearted unscrupulous cheater was not one of them. But then again, you thought you knew him to be the type to never spring a breakup on you. But he did. Maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought he did.
You took a deep breath. Not right now, you thought. You were on a date with another guy. It would be disrespectful to think about your ex, wouldn't it? Even if Haruto was most definitely not the one for you, you should have some courtesy.
You quickly rinsed your hands, dried them, and reapplied your lipgloss. And as you were ready to step back out, prepared to brave your tight-lipped smile and kind words, a large crashing sound pierced your ears.
Boom!
In the blink of an eye, the tiled bathroom floor below you rumbled, low growls rolling from under your feet. You froze. Your hand jerked out to grab the counter, the wall, the bathroom door handle— anything— to keep you stable.
"W-What the—"
Another deafening roar thundered through the air, enough to make your ears ring. At that instance, the floor below you ripped open.
What the hell was going on? Was it an earthquake? That would explain why the ground tore open. And yet, in the distance, you could hear booming thumping sounds.
Almost like the footsteps of a humongous being. Almost like the footsteps of a supervillain. Shit.
You're well aware of the state of your city. In the past few years, there has been a strange phenomenon of evildoers and mutants alike, appearing throughout your city to wreak havoc and torment civilians. And with that came the rise of even more bold crimes. Bank robberies, arson, kidnappings, pretty much everything.
Luckily, in the past 6 months, a new hero has appeared. The red and blue masked hero; the friendly neighborhood superhero himself; Spider-Man.
Your apartment, located near the center of the city, was awfully close to all of the commotion, nearly all the time. Which was why you couldn't help but admit that Spider-Man was quite the gem, for taking out all of these ne'er-do-wells and eccentric supervillains. And yet, here you were, probably in the middle of a supervillain attack.
All of the past villains have been eccentric but petty. But as the tiles below your feet literally cracked with each booming thrum, you were sure that this new villain, whoever it was, was worse.
Much worse. Probably worse than you could ever imagine.
And before you could react to the way that you tumbled to the ground, the cold floor hitting your knees so achingly, you heard a shriek from outside the bathroom.
"It's Baron von Fizzlebang!"
.... Who?
Baron von Fizzlebang?
What kind of shitty villain name is that—
Boom!
The smell of smoke filled your nostrils. You didn't know where it came from, but from the way that civilians screeched and screamed outside, you figured that it couldn't be far from you.
Boom!
Okay, this is urgent, you needed to get out!
Your heart rate picking up, you breathed slowly to keep yourself calm. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the way your soon-to-be bruised knees ached. As you reached for the bathroom door handle, the lights flickered, followed by the sound of explosions. Even though you were definitively inside the bathroom, with all sides of the room still intact, the dust seeped through the cracks, filling your lungs. With a strained gasp for air, you clamped a hand over your nose, squinting.
You pressed your ear against the bathroom door. Now the entire restaurant blared with fire alarms and smoke detectors. Police sirens also sounded. The large footstep-like thudding in the distance came closer and closer. You had no choice but get out of this damn bathroom and book it.
Your heart was now pounding so quickly that it felt like it would fall out. Your legs felt so weak, your head feeling too heavy. Who the hell is Baron von Fizzlebang? And more importantly, why did it have to be tonight? Without even realizing it, your palms had become sweaty, and with all the blood rushing to your head, you were mere seconds away from sweating.
You shook your head. Focus! You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand wrapped tightly on that bathroom door handle. On a count of three, you were going to open that door and run for your life.
One. Why did some good-for-nothing supervillain have to ruin your already-mediocre night?
Two. You needed to relax. There's no time to sit around and think and languish. Just do it!
Three. You pushed the heavy bathroom door open, and you bursted through the doorway.
And much to your relief, the dark hallway that led to the restaurant's bathroom was hidden away in a little nook; at the end of the hallway was the entrance to the main room of the restaurant.
Slowly creeping down the hallway, you could see the destruction that was wreaked on Bisco's poor, fancy restaurant. Chairs and tables were knocked over, with broken glass and porcelain scattering the red-carpeted floor. From the looks of it, it seemed like all of the restaurant's patrons were either huddled up in another section of the restaurant, or they had escaped.
Great. Now, all you had to do was get out. Thankfully, at the other end of this hallway, there was a backdoor exit. So all you had to do was turn around and—
There standing at the end of the hallway, in front of your exit, was a tall and slender man.
He wore a fitted tailored suit, yet it was bright purple, with a giant bow tie. He had a monocle over his eye.
Like some type of costumed noble. Like a baron.
"That's right," he said, a devious grin spreading across his face, in a way that almost made him look like a carnival clown. Your pulse froze, mid-beat. Theatrically, he gave you a bow, before he reached a hand out to you. " 'Tis I, Baron von Fizzlebang."
Your gut twisted. And when you stared at him with shaky eyes, your entire body frozen in time, the supervillain let out a cackle.
"Oh dear," Baron von Fizzlebang put his hand to his chest, feigning offense. He slyly eyed you, and at once, you could see a lightbulb seemingly pop from his head. "You don't mind being a hostage, right?"
Before you could even open your mouth, Baron von Fizzlebang shot you with finger-guns. And before you knew it, you fell to your knees, your vision became hazy. The last thing that you heard as you lost consciousness was the supervillain's laughter, police sirens, and shouting for a particular red and blue masked superhero.
Jungwon swore that he had a special sense for you.
Jungwon arrived at the scene barely even 5 minutes after he heard the initial explosion. The big fancy restaurant at the end of Mainstreet was the scene.
Really? Jungwon thought. Bisco's Palace? That pretentious place?
The thing was, Jungwon wasn't really nervous. One time, he had to fight an entire group of 20 thugs with guns barely 5 minutes after he was rudely awoken. Jungwon could probably fight people in his sleep. His body and physicality, although he resented it half the time, was perfectly attuned to everything that he needed.
Even now, as he was barely sober and emotionally wrecked, he could see clearly. When he arrived at the scene, half of Bisco's Palace was completely destroyed. Mini fires spotted the scene, with pods of smoke bursting in the night air. Terrified civilians cried that they heard earsplitting thumping in the distance, like footsteps. Others claimed that an eccentric villain called "Baron von something-something" was the cause of this all.
Jungwon huffed. Another crazy supervillain? Seemingly there was another crazy supervillain appearing everyday! What, was there some kind of factory pumping them out? From the looks of it, it seemed like most of the civilians had escaped relatively unscathed.
Good. Jungwon readied himself to launch into that burning restaurant. He had a simple action plan: Rescue the remaining civilians, beat that Baron von something-something's ass, and go home.
The moment that Jungwon's striking red and blue figure launched across the sky, Jungwon could hear the gasps of civilians, police officers, and on-site journalists alike. Jungwon landed easily into what was left of that restaurant building.
And when he entered, it was quiet. Eerily quiet.
Jungwon had to be careful.
Jungwon creeped slowly, closer to the main dining room. He kept his breathing as quiet as a whisper. And when he peeked his head through the grand, arched door-frame that led into the dining room, there, he saw a group of civilians, huddled among the flickering fires Men, women, children— there they were, shaking in fear, and coughing as the. Fire smoke filled their lungs. With his enhanced senses, he could hear mothers hushing their wailing babies and children asking their fathers if they were going to die tonight.
Not on my watch, Jungwon mentally answered their questions.
Jungwon shot a web at the ceiling, and in one fell swoop, he gathered enough momentum to swing across the restaurant, landing where the civilians were.
"Spider-Man!" they cried.
Jungwon crouched down toward them, putting his hands on his knees.
"Listen," he began, his voice stern. "I am going to help you guys escape." Jungwon grimaced at their amazed gazes. "But I need you guys to listen to me carefully."
Jungwon's eyes glazed over the group of civilians. There were up to 15 of them. He didn't have time to carry each and every one of them out. The entrance was burning, and there weren't any other ways to get out. Jungwon wanted to conserve his time as much as possible. To prevent that bastard of a villain Baron von something-something from doing any more damage.
And now that he took a better look at these civilians, they looked tired and worn out. Their cheeks were covered in soot, sweaty faces from the fire that was surrounding them.
Jungwon's eyes darted around the restaurant. There had to be another exit. Then, his eyes fell upon the tall window that stretched from the ceiling down to the floor.
Bingo.
"Mama, it's too hot," Jungwon could hear a toddler babble. Other people seemed to join in on agreement, and yet, they could barely speak coherently. With sweat-stained shirts and cheeks, Jungwon cursed under his breath.
Damn it, the fire was physically weakening these people. Jungwon's plan was nothing short of easy: he was going to break the hell out that window and get these people to escape that way. Yet, the problem was, the windows were bound to shatter and create dangerous shards. Jungwon was going to instruct them to be careful, but judging from the way that these civilians flinched at even the slightest flutter of fire while barely even having the strength to stand up, there was no way that they could have the alertness and mental precision to actually avoid the shards.
Think, think! Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut. What should he do? In the palace that was his mind, Jungwon ran through every possibility. These fires were big. They looked much smaller outside, but now that he was in the restaurant itself, these tongues of fires were massive. Not only were these fires scalding, but the smoke was painful for these civilians.
Come to think of it, shouldn't every building in this city have a robust mechanism for when fire breaks out? And yet, the walls, floor, and remaining civilians in this restaurant were dry. Which means that the sprinklers haven't gone off yet.
This was why public establishments needed health inspections... Jungwon shook his head. He didn't have time to criticize the efficacy of his government.
At once, Jungwon shot webs at whatever hard object he could find— fallen plates, bundles of metal utensils, even pieces of debris— before slinging them into the ceiling, directly toward all of the sprinkler bulbs that dotted the tall ceiling.
I'm sorry about your ceiling, but you'll thank me later, Jungwon thought, before slinging thick wads of webs toward every vent.
As each sprinkler bulb shattered, flared streams of water bursted from the ceiling. And as each vent of this flaming restaurant were webbed over, Jungwon prayed to whichever god he could think of that his physics professor was right about buoyancy. Hopefully, if he was right, by webbing over the vents, new smoke would not be able to enter the room, and thus reduce the amount of smoke that the civilians were breathing in.
As cold water droplets pittered and pattered over Jungwon's suit, he watched as the remaining civilians cheered and cooled off under the sprinkler. And with his physics-accurate ventilation blockage, they'd now be much more compliant.
Jungwon latched onto a larger piece of debris and slung it at the closest and safest window.
"Okay," he began instructing, creating a temporary web to shield the civilians from the fractured pieces of the window. "
You—" he pointed at a man—"Take that kid. And you two—" he pointed at two teenagers—"Stick together."
Jungwon organized the people. "Be careful, and step around the shards!"
The civilians were already on it. Jungwon watched as they carried their young and old, fleeing as fast as they came, all of them murmuring a "thank you, Spider-Man," as they pushed out through the window.
And with that, Jungwon was left all alone. The fire had died down just a little bit, by virtue of the sprinklers. For safe measure, Jungwon configured a few webs to create a few fire barriers to slow those damned flames down.
Now where was that Baron von something-something?
Jungwon scanned the restaurant. He looked everywhere. In the foyer, at the entrance, in the kitchen, even under the tables.
But he couldn't find anyone.
Except, there was one place that he didn't check: the dark hallway in the corner of the restaurant.
Jungwon inched toward it, slowly. He took small, spider-like steps.
"Oh, would you just hurry it up already?!" a loud voice boomed through the air.
Emerging from the hallway was a tall man.
Baron von something-something.
"Look at you, Spider-Man!" he cried, mockingly batting his eyelashes and clasping his hands together. "So brave! So strong! You helped those poor, poor civilians escape!"
Jungwon narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was this maniac? Jungwon's fingers twitched.
"But it looks like you forgot one." A sinister smile spread across his face. "Oh come out, dear!"
There was nothing that could have possibly prepared Jungwon for what he saw next. His heart plummeted to his stomach, because from the dark hallway emerged you.
Your face was dazed, your eyes cloudy, and your movements so sluggish. As if you were unconscious, and your mind was being controlled.
"Dontcha think she's pretty?" the villain continued, eccentrically throwing his arms around you. He laughed. "They don't call me Baron von Fizzlebang for no reason! With a single gunshot from my fingers, I can take anyone under my control!"
Jungwon tuned everything out.
He felt a flood of emotions.
Fear.
You, the person that's been haunting him. You, who has been consuming his thoughts and life. There you were, in front of him, after all of this time. Even when you weren't really there, Jungwon couldn't bear to look you in the eyes.
And yet, it meant nothing. His fear meant absolutely nothing. Not when there was another emotion taking hold: anger.
So much anger, that his blood felt hot. Jungwon dug his fingernails into his gloved palms, enough that his knuckles were beginning to ache. How dare this villain take advantage of you? Your safety was in jeopardy. It made Jungwon's stomach boil with a rage that he couldn't comprehend, the way that you were quite literally not in control of your body. That in the time that Jungwon wasn't there, unspeakable things could have been done to you. To think that your own autonomy was torn from your hands, to think that your own dignity was desecrated in the name of some supervillain's sick power game— that conjured a feeling that Jungwon couldn't even describe. Disgust, horror, wrath; he felt it all.
Jungwon now looked upon the villain with eyes full of wrath.
Baron von Fizzlebang continued to rave on and on about how great he was, and how this was just all part of his master plan to subjugate this city. But it didn't mean anything.
To the entire world, Spider-Man was a hero. And in most ways, he was one. Jungwon saved people daily, he prevented the city around him from crumbling to the ground like it was easy. He was a man of the people, the beacon of hope for all city residents.
The symbol of law and order, the righteous hero of the city, Spider-Man.
And yet, as Jungwon's eyes couldn't bear to tear away from your dazed face, he felt his resolve slip away.
The obligation to protect others, defend freedom, and uphold justice, like a vessel from a dock, sailed away into the horizon, into the unknown. Right now, Jungwon was not Spider-Man protecting a civilian. He was not the Spider-Man that had no other duty than to ensure the safety of his fellow citizens. He was not the Spider-Man whose every action reflected his moral purity.
No, Jungwon was a man that was so ashamed of his own fears, that he never even dared to speak of them. He was the man that pushed everyone away, frightened by what would happen if he continued to associate with them. And worst of all, Jungwon was the man that still continued to yearn you, longing for your touch one last time before he would consign his love to oblivion.
Which was why all Jungwon saw was red.
Maybe if he was actually listening to Baron von Fizzlebang's monologue he would have heard how his abilities worked, but Jungwon didn't care. He'll probably figure it out later when this lunatic gets thrown into jail.
Jungwon couldn't control his body, or his mind at that matter. All Jungwon could remember doing was shooting a web at the ceiling to gain a higher vantage point, before (with all of the maximum, inhuman speed that his body was capable of) swinging down to land a kick flat onto Baron von Fizzlebang's cheek, effectively knocking the man down to the floor.
Before the villain could even react, Jungwon couldn't stop himself; he pinned the villain down to the floor using all of his body weight, before he let nothing but his sheer anger reign. All of his pent up emotions— anger, fear, shame, guilt— spilled out. No longer was Jungwon the pure hero.
With his bare hands, he landed punches to Baron von Fizzlebang's abdomen. Over and over and over.
Spider-Man used spider webs and crafty tricks to defeat his enemies. But Jungwon? He used his bare hands. With gritted teeth, and blood boiling hotter than lava, Jungwon punched, and punched, and punched. Even when he could feel his knuckles beginning to bruise, he punched. He ignored every cry and groan of pain coming from the villain, for there was only one thing on his mind: your dignity.
Jungwon wouldn't have stopped, not even if his arm gave out (because he would just switch to his other arm), not even if this maniacal supervillain was out for good.
The only thing that pulled Jungwon into his blind rage was the sound of you collapsing to the ground, with a thump!
Instantly, Jungwon snapped out of his fury, his head whipping over to you. Seemingly, with Baron von Fizzlebang knocked out, you were released from his control.
Immediately, Jungwon rushed over to you, leaving Baron von Fizzlebang's unconscious body.
"[Name]!" he cried, scooping your limp body up into his arms. You no longer looked dazed, so at least Baron von Fizzlebang's control of you wore off for good. And yet, your expression looked exhausted. Your eyes were half-lidded, labored breaths and soft whimpering pushing from your lips. "[Name], can you hear me? Are you okay?—"
Overhead, Jungwon could hear helicopters and the shouting of police officers and firemen from outside. They must have figured that Jungwon defeated Baron von Fizzlebang, and now they were sending re-enforcements. But all of Jungwon's focus was still on you.
"Spider-Man...?" you mumbled weakly, your voice hoarse and quivering. Now that he got a better look, your eyes were bloodshot, and your cheeks were tear-stained. Jungwon's heart clenched in his chest. He couldn't understand why he felt such an overwhelming urge to pull you into his embrace, to hold you close as if you would disappear. "Spider-Man, I—"
"Don't speak," Jungwon's voice came out as a whisper. And maybe it was now that Jungwon realized that his eyes were welled up with tears. It's been so long since he's been able to see you, and yet ironically, the only reason that he could was because your life was in danger. Jungwon let out a choked sob. "Don't say anything, [Name]."
"But I—I wanted to thank you—"
"Shhhh."
You looked so tired. He couldn't imagine how you felt, being under the control of a supervillain that has malicious intentions. But here you were, still taking it upon yourself to thank him. He couldn't even fathom what type of pain (emotional? physical? mental? you definitely weren't going to be okay after this, he knew you that well) you were going through.
Hug her, was the resounding thought that filled Jungwon's head. He almost cursed himself for thinking such a thing. After all, he wasn't yours anymore. But as he watched your worn face, he thought again. When you were still his, you always felt soothed when you were under intense stress if he hugged you tightly, the way that you always liked it.
Holding his breath, Jungwon gently lifted your head and chest, before pulling you into his arms. Almost instantly, you relaxed into his body, pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Like how you used to. You murmured something under your breath, but Jungwon was too distracted by the tears that were now definitely streaming down his face. He hadn't felt your touch in so long. He's been dreaming of getting to hold you one last time for months now.
Your eyelids began to fall, your head yielding to his shoulder, which was a tell-tale sign that you've fallen unconscious.
In the restaurant of ruin and rubble, Jungwon sat there on the debris-ridden floor, with you in his arms. Before he finally decided to get back up and take the two of you out of this place, he gave you one more tight squeeze.
"I love you," he whispered into your ear. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped that somewhere in dreamland, you heard him.
Jungwon stared out of his apartment window. It's been a few days since the Baron von Fizzlebang-Bisco's Palace incident. Baron von Fizzlebang was taken into police custody and his trial awaited him. Meanwhile, the city was still cleaning up the aftermath, with an entire block of the city being taped off.
But the city wasn't the only thing that had to be repaired.
Namely, Jungwon hadn't recovered yet. His fists still had red-purple marks on them. Even with his superhuman regenerative abilities, he had pushed himself to the extreme when he was beating up Baron von Fizzlebang the other day. But that wasn't the issue.
Ever since that day, Jungwon hadn't stopped thinking about you. Well, to be sure, he never stopped thinking about you, but he was thinking about you extra now.
He wondered how you were doing. You were a strong girl. You could withstand pretty much everything, because it was in your nature. But after an incident like this one, he was sure that you were going through a lot.
Jungwon felt selfish. He wanted to check up on you. He wanted to ask one of his friends to ask your friends how you were doing, or maybe go to your apartment as Spider-Man to check up on you himself.
But that's a purely selfish desire.
Jungwon couldn't do that to you. He broke up with you for a reason: to protect you. He'd never want to do anything to put you in danger, and by even opening an avenue of communication between him (in both his hero and civilian form) and you was dangerous in and of itself.
It scared him so deeply, the thought of losing you. But still, Jungwon wanted to be selfish. He wanted to love you greedily, to have you all to himself.
He looked out his window again, then he looked down at his wrists: the black spider-like veins looked darker today. Maybe in another lifetime, because in this lifetime, he had a duty as Spider-Man.
Speaking of which, there were few actual benefits of being Spider-Man. One of them was that Jungwon got to directly impact other people's lives. Which was why every week, the municipal government would send him all of the fan-mail that civilians had for him.
Jungwon shook the thought of you away, pushing it to the back of his mind as he. grabbed his keys, slipped on some slippers, and ventured down to his apartment complex's mailroom.
As always, his mailbox was filled to the brim with mail. From letters to postcards to care packages, Jungwon looked like a madman as he struggled to carry all of his fan=mail back up to his apartment. It sucked that he couldn't use his spider abilities to help him in broad daylight.
In fact, there was so much mail that as Jungwon traversed the hallway back to his apartment, stumbling over himself, one stray letter fell from the stack of letters that he had atop all of the packages.
He cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes. He watched as that one stray letter seemingly flew off of the stack, gracefully floating in the air for a few seconds before landing before his feet.
Jungwon huffed again. He quickly made his way back to his apartment, set down all of his fan-mail, before running back out into the hallway to pick up that pesky envelope that decided to fly away.
But as Jungwon marched down that hallway, crouching down to pick up the letter that had fallen out of his grasp, his eyes fell upon that name on that envelope.
It was your name. Jungwon snatched it up.
You wrote him fan-mail. Jungwon couldn't help but smile.
It has been about two weeks since the incident, and frankly, you're only halfway over it. You could tell that you were getting better compared to how you were in the immediate aftermath. But you still couldn't sleep at night, and you needed lots of mental preparation to go anywhere outside.
But today, you decided that you were going to put on a brave face, and stand up against your fears.
Pushing what fears you had to the back of your mind, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. It was late into the morning, and yet, you were wearing makeup.
Wonyoung (that smart girl, always with tricks up her sleeve), feeling apologetic about what had happened at that disaster of a date last week, begged to take you out on a girl's date today. After being cooped up in your room everyday for the past few days, you couldn't say no to her offer.
You felt a little nervous, though. The last time you went out, you got taken control of by that supervillain. But Wonyoung had been there for you the entire way, talking you through it every night. You trusted her, and you appreciated how she didn't treat you like a victim; Wonyoung wasn't babying your every step, but instead just treating you like a normal person.
And plus, it was summer. You wanted to have fun and to live your young adult life. Your eyes fluttered over to your window. Streams of yellow sunlight peeked through. Today was too beautiful. You could remember Wonyoung's excited voice over the phone a few nights ago.
"We should go take pictures!" she has squealed over the phone. "You just look toooooo pretty and we need to post something on your Instagram— to show all the guys what they're missing out on!"
You giggled. You still couldn't get used to being treated like you were single. There were indeed a few cool freedoms that came with being single. But in your mind, you still belonged to someone.
You looked at your phone. Wonyoung talked about posting pictures to make guys feel like bums for not getting on their knees and worshipping you (her words, not yours!). But when you thought about posting pictures, all you thought about was whether or not Jungwon would see them.
You squeezed your eyes shut. You needed to stop thinking about him. It wasn't healthy. But you still wondered if he thought about you, the same way you thought about him. You sat up from your bed, before you glanced into the mirror near the foot of your bed.
You hoped that he thought about you, too.
Ding dong! Oh! A ring from the front door! It must be Wonyoung! You happily promenaded to your apartment door, excited to greet your best friend with a big hug, and—
"J-Jungwon?!"
Instead of seeing your pink-wearing scheming best friend, you're greeted with your ex-boyfriend. However, for some reason, he looked more surprised than you!
"[N-Name]?!" he spluttered, his cat-like eyes as wide as saucers with his jaw falling open.
The two of you stare at each other like that for what felt like an eternity.
Your eyes fell over his features. His hair had grown a little bit longer since the last time you saw him (granted, that was half a year ago). His face looked slimmer, like he had lost weight. As you glazed over his figure, he had a backpack on his shoulders as always, but you eyed the way his biceps looked. He looked like he had put on more muscle, and before you could start ogling at him, you stopped yourself.
This was the guy that broke your heart. This was the guy that left you with no words. And now he was at your door?
"What the fuck do you want?" you spat at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Your brows crashed together, your expression turning sour. When he didn't respond, because you could tell by his expression that he was too busy checking you out, you began to close the door in his face.
"W-Wait!" he put his hands in front of him, flailing them panicked. You shot him a questioning look. "I think— I think I'm at the wrong apartment..."
You scoffed. "Oh, bullshit. What do you actually want?"
"I-I promise that I'm serious," Jungwon breathed out, and for a second you felt the walls you built for yourself threatening to crash down. He looked like a sad cat. Frantically, he shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for his phone that was squashed somewhere in them. When he finally found his phone, he fumbled with it, before showing you his screen. "I'm tutoring... a kid on your floor, I think."
You took a good look at his phone screen, and he was telling the truth.
You sighed, pinching your nose-bridge.
"Do you..." he began, his eyes refusing to look at yours. "Do you know how to get to room 1214?"
You let out another sigh, this time louder. Jungwon stumbled, stammering to explain himself again, but you put a hand up, effectively silencing him.
"Keep going down the hallway, make a left turn, and you'll find room 1214 on your right," you said simply.
"Thank you," Jungwon said, as he nodded slowly, and you hummed.
Another long moment of silence engulfed the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick that you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You watched the way Jungwon's fingers fidgeted, a habit that he's never lost. He did this whenever he felt nervous or shy. It was a habit that you had grown to be fond of. You thought it was sweet that he was so fidgety. You tore your eyes away from him.
Was this the guy that wordlessly broke your heart?
"I'm gonna—" Jungwon started, breaking the silence. "I'm gonna go now."
He locked eyes with you, but just as he tried to break eye contact, you sent him a warning look. He didn't look away.
"Okay," you said simply. "Me too."
"Yeah."
And yet, the two of you still stood there, staring at each other. You've spent so many nights crying over him. You've never felt so much pain in your life before. There was so much anger and resentment that you had built up for him. There were a million words that you wanted to say to him, to tell him how much he hurt you.
But right now, you couldn't think of anything.
"Take care," you said.
"You too."
And with that, you slowly closed your door on him, while he slowly walked away from your door. But you swore that he kept looking back at you.
The moment that your front door clicked shut, you pressed your back up against it, before sliding down and holding your knees to your chest. You couldn't get over him when he clearly still wasn't over you. Why was he playing with you like this? Why did it have to be you, and more importantly, why did it have to be him?
Surely in time, Wonyoung showed up, and the two of you went on your little girl's day.
You huffed as you stumbled through your apartment doorway, struggling to take off your shoes amidst all of the shopping bags hanging on your arm. That Wonyoung, so eager to treat you to a nice day out. She bought you everything that you remotely showed interest in.
The moment that you arrived home, you shed all of your outdoor clothes, retreating to the comfort that was your bedroom. By now, it was dark out, and despite having a long and fun day with Wonyoung, you didn't feel tired. Unlike most days like this one that would follow a logical sequence, you still felt restless, as if your day had not been complete.
You were plagued with a weird gnawing feeling inside you. This happened a lot lately, probably just your anxiety from the past few weeks' incident.
And when you finally realized that laying in bed for hours scrolling on your phone was barely productive for an adult like you, you sighed, before sitting up from your bed.
Maybe you should write to him.
Ever since the incident at Bisco's Palace, you've found yourself especially restless. It's hard to tell if you're just paranoid, but on nights like this, you found yourself doing the same thing: writing to Spider-Man.
You used to be indifferent to the buzz around the masked hero, but now you understood it. You didn't know the reason why, but you found yourself finding comfort in simply writing to Spider-Man. It's simple things like thanking him for his service, and telling him about your day.
You glanced at the disorderly pile on your desk, of folded letters and envelopes. You never sent your letters. You've only ever sent him one letter.
The rest of your letters, which were structured more like long streams of consciousness vomited on a piece of paper, were left unsent.
You sighed. It wasn't like Spider-Man was really going to read your letters. You were just writing your thoughts out. You sat at your desk, scrolling through your Spotify Playlists to first choose the perfect moody music to get you writing. Your finger scrolled around your screen, glazing over the icons for each of your playlists.
You stopped when you saw a familiar, yet long-forgotten one.
It was a playlist that was created an entire year ago, with a simple title: love. Its icon was none other than a picture of you and Jungwon, with your cheeks smooshed up against each other. Smiling. In love.
Your finger hovered over its icon for a few moments. You haven't listened to this playlist in months. It's practically been collecting cobwebs in your Spotify account. If you listened to it now, you'd probably lose your mind. And yet you felt drawn to it.
You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples. In times in stress, we as humans seek familiarity. It's not crazy for you, who just experienced something traumatizing, to seek the solace of an old playlist reminiscent of a happier time. Right?
Play, you clicked.
Immediately, songs that you haven't heard in a long time filled your ears, the familiar tunes and melodies that you've grown to love hanging in the air.
You grabbed a pen, and began jotting down your thoughts.
'Dear Spider-Man,' you started off your letter. Below your desk, your knees bounced to the rhythm of each song— each song chosen by Jungwon, reminding you of all of his laughs and soft kisses as you and him shared earbuds on the city's underground subway.
As the black ink of your pen smudged against the side of your palm, you hummed along to the music that emitted from your phone. For a second, you could pretend that it was last summer, when you still had a boy to call yours.
You bit your lip, staring at the words scribbled on the paper.
It wasn't like Spider-Man would ever read these letters. He was a hypothetical addressee in your letters, so to speak. You took a deep breath.
'I miss him,' you wrote next, wincing as you gazed at your handwriting. How embarrassing, that you're confiding in the hypothetical version of a superhero in your head about your boy troubles. Whatever. You continued, 'I don't think I'll be able to move on from him, not any time soon.'
You stared at your words again. Oh, isn't this just pathetic?
You groaned, exasperated. You seriously just needed to get a life, or something. Just as you were about to throw yourself into your bed and scream into your pillows, leaving an unfinished letter open on your desk—
Crash!
You whipped your head toward the source of the sound: your bedroom balcony.
For a moment, your shoulders tensed. The last time a loud sound filled your ears, you got your mind controlled. And plus, it wasn't safe being a woman that lived alone, especially in a city notorious for its crime.
With trembling eyes, you stared out your glass balcony doors. It was completely dark out, save for the streams of light staining your balcony from your room. There's loud sounds all the time, but this time, you were 100% certain that the sound was on your balcony.
Should you go check it out? Or should you just turn off all your lights and jump into bed?
But before you could scare yourself even more, a strong figure slowly rose from the darkness. Hunched over, as if he was in pain, emerged a familiar red and blue hero.
"S-Spider-Man?!" you gaped to yourself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
And despite the darkness, you and him seem to lock eyes. Spider-Man, although it was him that was intruding on your property, seemed even more surprised by your presence, physically jolting away as if he was really that taken aback by you. And unfortunately for him, just as he was about to scurry away, you bursted through your balcony doors.
"Spider-Man!" you called out, as the cool night air kissed your face. You could feel goosebumps rise on your skin, as your thin pajamas did you no justice against the night coolness.
Although he was masked, you swore that Spider-Man was looking at you like you were some kind of freak of nature. But you ignored his gaze, noticing the way his clothed thigh had a massive dark-red splotch on it.
"I-Is that blood?" you peeped, pointing to his thigh. That would explain why Spider-Man had such an unceremonious crash landing into your apartment balcony; he was injured. You looked back up at the hero's masked face. "Spider-Man, are you okay—"
"I-I'm fine!" Spider-Man blurted, his voice shaky and almost uncertain. The hero staggered, stumbling to his feet. You could tell that he was in pain, but was trying to hide it. "I'm okay."
You watched as Spider-Man limped, quietly wincing in pain to the railing of your balcony, gripping it tightly to support himself.
He looked over his shoulder. Even when his face wasn't visible, it was like he was sheepish. Timid, even.
"I'm...." Spider-Man began. You could see his toned back tense. "I'm sorry."
You blinked. "For what?"
The hero hesitated. Why was Spider-Man being so... shy? And unassuming? Wasn't he this grand and powerful hero?
"For...." he drew out his syllables, as if he was grasping for thoughts in his head. "For abruptly— um— crashing. Into... your apartment."
A curve formed on your lips. "No, no. no!" you waved your hands in front of yourself. "Don't worry at all!"
You glanced at the wound on his thigh. Blood ran down his thigh, seeping through his costume. "Are you sure you're—"
Spider-Man interrupted you with a loud groan of pain, as he attempted to take a step forward. He crumbled to his knees, choked cries of pain falling from his lips.
The hero cursed under his breath, muttering about some "bastard" stabbing him.
You rushed to his side, your arms wrapping around his torso to pull him back to his feet. Despite being in pain from his injury, he seemed even more baffled by your touch, flinching away.
"S-Sorry," he apologized again.
"It's okay," you shot him a small smile. "Why don't you come inside?"
Jungwon wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
After his tutoring session with one of your neighbors, Jungwon went home and decided to take a long nap. After all, running into you, his ex, was definitely not something that he intended to do. He needed a nap to clear his mind.
Except, that was not what Jungwon got. Instead, he got another dream of you dying. Combined with seeing you getting controlled by that supervillain, Jungwon was not in the right headspace when he awoke.
Once again, with goosebumps littering his arms, cold sweat rolling down his temples, Jungwon's first instinct, as always, was to jump out of that damn window and take a lap around the city. By the time he finished a lap, it was already dark, and yet neither his mind nor body had the sharp precision that he needed to fight criminals.
Which was why when fighting a group of bandits, Jungwon dishonorably got stabbed in the thigh (though, of course, he kicked their asses to the moon).
And after he tried to swing away via his webs, his painful wound in the thigh made him miscalculate and web, and he tumbled down from the sky.
And that's how Jungwon found himself sitting on your bed.
This time, instead of breaking up with you, he was clad in his spandex suit, waiting for you as you rummaged through your bathroom cabinet.
Jungwon looked around your room. Everything was the same.
You had the same plushies on your bed, with the scent of your perfume still strong in the air. Your desk is still cluttered with the same papers and pens.
Everything, and really everything, was the same. Like one of those unfortunate true-crime cases, where someone dies under mysterious circumstances, and yet their home is completely untouched, with no signs of disturbance. As if nothing had changed at all, save for the absence of life.
It was a strange stillness, and yet, Jungwon shook his head. He was in no position to judge. Though, Jungwon's eyes did catch something interesting.On your desk lay a messy stack of envelopes and papers, some crumpled up and others pristinely folded. Like letters.
And maybe Jungwon was paranoid, or heartbroken, but his mind wandered to the worst places. Were you seeing another guy? Maybe the guy that you went on that date with. Was that why you were probably writing love notes?
Have you moved on that quickly? Was it that easy to forget him? Jungwon's heart ached, and against his better judgement, he rose to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his thigh. He creeped up to your desk, limping with each step. With each inch closer, he could feel the world shattering around him.
And when he realized that there was an unfinished letter already in the works, freely laying on your desk, his heart dropped.
Jungwon gazed at the stack of letters, then back at the half-written letter played on your desk. But his eyes caught the heading of the letter: 'Dear Spider-Man.'
And it was now that Jungwon realized another crucial detail: your phone, also laying on your desk, was playing music. Playing music from the playlist that you and him made together.
"Spider-Man?"
Jungwon whipped his head around as your voice pulled him out of thought. And before he could even question why you would be writing to him of all people, you were already throwing all of your bandages onto your bed, rushing profusely to him as you cried, "Don't look at those!"
You tugged on Jungwon's arm, pulling him and gently pushing him onto your bed. Your bottom lip jutted out into a small pout, your face painted with an embarrassed expression.
"You were not supposed to see that," you murmured with your brows knitted together, standing in front of the now sitting hero. When Jungwon didn't respond, you continued, your voice breathy. "Just— Just forget you saw anything."
Jungwon nodded slowly. Under the mask, he glanced back to your desk. Were all of those letters addressed to him? As in, Spider-Man? And why were you still listening to that playlist?
"It's okay," he said reassuringly, even though he was extremely uncertain himself. "I didn't see anything."
You visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh. "I-It's just embarrassing."
Your eyes fluttered up to Jungwon's masked face. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jungwon could tell by the way your lips trembled ever-so-slightly and your brows crashed together that you felt uncomfortable.
You made that face when you felt like you needed to talk. Jungwon swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his arms opening up and his palms opening. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"But—"
Jungwon hoped that you could see his earnest smile from behind his mask. "I mean it. Don't worry about it."
Your eyes narrowed, as if you were studying his face. You sighed again. "Okay, sorry."
A silence engulfed the two of you, as you reached for the bandages and first-aid supplies that you had so abruptly thrown onto your bed earlier, completely unaware of the way Jungwon watched you so intently. He hadn't been so close to you in so long. With every flicker of your eyes and twitch of your face, Jungwon admired you closely.
What he would do to reach out and cup your cheek again, to feel your living and breathing self against his hands. To verify that you hadn't died. To confirm that you were safe and sound, alive and well.
"Can I—" you started, breaking the silence— "Can I help with your wound?"
Jungwon blinked. He had high levels of regeneration, so in a few hours, the wound on his thigh would be completely gone. It would be better to not waste both of your time.
But how you looked at him with wide, innocuous eyes, filled with worry and your characteristic kindness, Jungwon's greed clouded his mind.
"I would love that," Jungwon replied, his voice a near whisper.
How shameful of him, to sit here and selfishly bask in your presence as if he hadn't broken your heart.
You smiled, taking your rubbing alcohol and coming to Jungwon's side. Quickly, you started at your ministrations. Jungwon hissed at the burning sensation of the rubbing alcohol on his open wound (he had forgotten what it felt like), whispering apologies with each squeak of pain that fell from his lips. You hummed to yourself, your delicate face so focused.
"You know, Spider-Man," you began as you continued treating his wound, your voice soft, "I always wonder if you remember me."
Jungwon scoffed, his lips moving faster than his brain. Breathy, but eager, words came out, in a tone that Jungwon had always reserved for you. "How could I ever forget you, [Name]?"
You let out a peep, your face slowly morphing into a flustered expression. "W-What are you talking about?"
Shit. "I-I mean—"
Jungwon's ears burned, the apples of his cheeks prickling with warmth. This is not what he meant to do! Jungwon cleared his throat, sucking in a sharp breath to recompose himself.
"W-What I meant was that I—" Jungwon narrowed his eyes, thinking of an explanation— "I could never forget what happened at Bisco's."
You blinked at him a few times, your face breaking out into a frown. "Oh."
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. Did that make you upset?
"I always remember the people that I save," he continued, observing your facial expressions carefully. "I could never forget the impact I made on others, and that includes you, [Name]."
You shook your head understanding, but Jungwon could still see the frown on your face. "You're right," you said. Your eyes met with his. "You really have made an impact on me, Spider-Man."
You reached for the bandages, beginning to slowly wrap them around his wounded thigh.
"You know..." you started slowly. A bashful curve formed on your lips, nearly forming one of those cute grins that you always did whenever you felt particularly happy or appreciative. "I think about you quite a bit."
Jungwon cocked a brow.
"The truth is," you continued, the bashful expression on your face growing, "I write letters to you whenever I feel like shit."
"Why?" Jungwon blurted. He knew he probably shouldn't ask. It would make him spiral even harder, but his curiosity got the better of him.
You let out a chuckle, closing your eyes and shaking your head in embarrassment. "Because you saved me. And because you're a pretty universal symbol of strength and reliability."
You looked up at him again, flexing your arms with a goofy grin. "You're this city's number one defender. I write to you because I feel like even if I can't send you anything, I could rely on you, y'know?"
"Yeah," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't seen you smile like that in a while, and your reasoning was un-surprisingly sweet. Because you were that type of person. He couldn't help the way his lips pulled up into a small smile. "That makes sense."
"How about you, Spider-Man?" you asked.
"What about me?"
"What do you do when you feel like shit?" you cocked your head, blinking owlishly. "You must go through a lot as a hero. What makes you feel like you should keep going?"
You, he thought. You were what made him want to keep being a good person. All his deep fears of failure and imperfection were intrinsically rooted in his desires to make himself worthy for you. It was all you.
"You," Jungwon said. But he couldn't have you. "... And other people that I've saved. Knowing that I have helped others is enough to keep me going."
You nodded your head, understanding, your lips forming an 'oh' shape. You continued wrapping his thigh with bandages. "Do you ever check up on the people that you save?"
"I wish I could," Jungwon responded. "I would love to check up on everyone."
"So why don't you?"
You were always so curious. Jungwon pursed his lips. "Because there's too many people that I've saved. I don't know all of them by name. I don't know how to find them."
You hummed. You finished wrapping Jungwon's leg with bandages, using scissors to cut the cloth bandages and securing them. You patted your hands off, sending the hero another smile. "Aaaand you're all done."
"Thank you," Jungwon held a fixed gaze on you again. It took all of his self-control to not throw his arms around you and embrace you. "I don't know how I can repay you—"
You waved your hands in front of you profusely. "No, no! I'm repaying you for saving me—"
Jungwon shook his head. "If it wasn't for your balcony, I would have probably died."
You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating, before a lightbulb seemingly popped above your head. You swiftly took Jungwon's hands, squeezing them tightly.
"Come visit me."
Jungwon spluttered. "W-What?"
"You said that you didn't know how to repay me, and that you didn't check up on people you saved because you didn't know how to find them," you gushed eagerly. "You found me. You can repay me by visiting me ever so often."
"But— But why?"
You shrugged. "It gets lonely sometimes," was all you said, but your wide and glassy eyes staring up at him so pleadingly made it hard to say no. "Please?"
"I'll try."
You didn't catch it at first. "What?"
"I'll try," Jungwon murmured. "To come back. If I can."
You chuckled. "Good enough for me."
Jungwon wasn't sure if he made a promise that he could keep.
"Good morning! Welcome to Maeum's Coffee Shop, what can I get you— Damn it, [Name], did you have a rough night again?"
You winced at Wonyoung's words. Wonyoung worked at a local coffee shop, and as a good friend, you always came in to support her.
It's been a few days since you found Spider-Man on your balcony, and you would be lying if you said that you weren't excited. You stayed up a few nights waiting for Spider-Man to crash-land on you again. It wasn't anything romantic for sure, you were just interested in talking to him. The truth was, you stayed up most nights anyway. You stayed up most nights thinking about everything, unable to truly rest. If you were going to be restless, you might as well think about your new friend Spider-Man.
"The usual," you murmured to your friend, who hummed understandingly, despite you completely ignoring her question. You rubbed your eyes. "I'm so tired, Wonyoung."
Wonyoung's bright eyes ran over your figure: you were wearing sweats with a hoodie draped over your shoulders, as if you just woke up. She chuckled at you, before ringing you up. "We could go to the beach after my shift, if you want."
You groaned as you swiped your card. You didn't feel like doing anything, but when it was Wonyoung, it was hard to say no. "Fine."
You grinned lazily as she cheered, before you took a seat in the coffee shop, slumping over yourself as you waited for your coffee. You could hear some light jazz playing, but especially the laughter of Wonyoung as she charmed customers, and most importantly, the flagrant whispers of her coworkers.
There was always one downside of visiting Wonyoung while she worked: her coworkers, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, who just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend's best friends. And now as you tried to fight your tiredness, all you could hear now was their whispers. Their frantic whispers.
If you weren't literally about to fall asleep, pulling your hood over your head, you would have shot them a glare, maybe even text Wonyoung to tell them to shut up.
"....that's definitely his..." you could hear Jake whisper-yell.
"...ngwon's gonna blow his shit..... Hurry, call him!"
"—Shit, he's on his way already!"
Ding! The doorbell of the coffee shop rang, making everyone in the shop (including yourself) turn their heads. And lo and behold, standing at the doorway was none other than your ex-boyfriend.
You couldn't even bring yourself to care. You could hear his friends practically shouting in the back while your phone pinged a billion messages from Wonyoung, but you just continued to push your face into your arms, taking comfort in the hoodie that you had thrown on this morning.
You hoped that Jungwon didn't notice that you were here. Maybe that would be better for your mental stability.
"[N-Name]?" Sunoo's shaky voice called out from the counter, where Sunoo, Sunghoon, and Jake liked to hang around. Your drink was ready. Finally.
Lifting yourself off of the cafe table, you trudged over to the counter, only a few feet away from the cash register. Where Jungwon was standing, getting ready to order. Which meant that he 100% saw you, and now he 100% knows that you're here.
Damn it. You really couldn't take seeing his face today. You fiddled with your hood, pulling it closer to you to hide your face.
"Here's your.... drink," Sunoo said, slowly and awkwardly, as if you were some alien. You rolled your eyes, fighting the horrible feeling of Jungwon's eyes boring into the back of your head, as you took your coffee from the counter.
As you read over the labeling and Sharpie'd name on your cup, you verified that this drink was indeed yours. And just as you were about to turn on your heel and get the fuck out of there (away from Jungwon, who was now 100000% staring at you), Jake just had to open his mouth.
"I-Isn't that Jungwon's hoodie?" Jake blurted, throwing an accusatory finger at the hoodie draped over your shoulders.
You didn't know what came first: Wonyoung's gasp from the cash register, you choking on your spit, or Jungwon spluttering from where he was. Sunoo and Sunghoon whacked Jake in the head, but the damage was already done.
Once again, for no apparent reason, you and Jungwon found each other. You couldn't fight the urge to turn over your shoulder and spot Jungwon, who was staring at you with big, shivering eyes, his ears red and his lips agape. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. Your emotions were so erratic. Sometimes when you saw pictures of Jungwon you felt nothing, but now that he was in front of you, face to face, you wanted to scream and cry.
You looked down at the hoodie that enveloped you. Now that Jake mentioned it, yes, this hoodie was Jungwon's. In fact, you could remember how you acquired such a thing. One time, it was raining so Jungwon let you wear his hoodie, and you never gave it back. What once belonged to Jungwon was now yours, and you've made it such a normal part of your life that you forgot that it had ever been his.
This hoodie, having lived in your closet for months and months, smelled like your own laundry detergent. And as you brusquely walked past Jungwon, blinking back the tears that you hadn't even noticed were collecting in your eyes, you wished for something abnormal: you wished that this hoodie still smelled like Jungwon, even after all this time.
So that you could have something to remember him by.
Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath. Temptation was a work of sin, and unfortunately, it was not his fault that the devil was stronger than a man.
There were many reasons that Jungwon was so committed to keeping a distance from you. He wanted to respect your space, and he was dedicated to protecting you. But even more, there was an intimacy that was never speaking to you again. In his last act of love for you, Jungwon would grant you the peace that his presence could never give you. He hoped that his absence spoke of the words that he could never have said. And yet, as Jungwon sat on the ledge of some building, he watched the cars pass wistfully a few hundred meters below his feet.
In the daytime, he felt like he could deal with the guilt and loneliness. But at night, it was nearly impossible. It's been another week since Jungwon had uneventfully landed on your balcony, and you had requested that he, as Spider-Man, visit you.
And frankly, Jungwon wasn't going to visit you. Even if he promised you, he was so sure that he couldn't keep it. After all, he had a commitment. But when the summer air is so warm yet so unforgiving, sending hot beads of sweat running down Jungwon's face, the frustration and guilt festered, devouring Jungwon from the inside out. That was how Jungwon found himself only a few buildings away from your apartment. He teetered on the ledge. Half of him wanted so desperately to just swing onto your balcony again, to just see you again. But the other half of him couldn't stand putting you in harm's way any longer.
So imagine Jungwon's shame as he picked up his feet and swung by your apartment. All he wanted to do was check on you. He had good eyes, so hopefully he'd be able to catch a glimpse of you through your windows as he briefly came by. And yet, instead of finding you safe and sound through your bedroom window, what Jungwon saw from a distance was you, on your balcony, looking sad. Wistful, even. You had your arms over the railings, and even when he was afar, Jungwon could recognize any of your expressions, and this one, he could tell that you were crying.
His body moved faster than his mind, with zero hesitation, zooming right onto your balcony. Jungwon's mind was still racing, questions blurring through his mind, hesitating about what he should do. Why were you crying? Was it someone that made you feel this way? But his body knew his intentions better. His body knew the sorts of yearning that he had no chance of resisting. And just as swift as he came, Jungwon found himself breathing heavily as he landed back on the railing of your balcony.
"S-Spider-man?!" you sniffled. Under the dark sky, he could see the way your eyes lined with tears, your tearful eyes puffy and bloodshot. You quickly hid your face in your sleeve, turning your face away from him. "Wh—What are you doing here?"
"I..." Jungwon's mouth ran dry. He didn't have an answer for you. Seeing you like this made him feel on-edge, nervous even. He didn't know why he was here with you. He didn't know why his body forced him to keep crawling back to you. He didn't want to be here, it went against all instinct. He stared at the back of your head. "I'm— Um—"
You let out a loud, high-pitched sob, before you threw your arms around Jungwon's shoulders, burying yourself into his chest. Jungwon stiffened under your touch. It felt weird. He hadn't been close to really anyone at all, at least not physically. If it wasn't you that he was physically intimate with, he'd rather not have it at all. But even when it was you, intimacy felt so foreign, so lost. But as your choked sobs rung through the air, your arms holding onto him like he'd save you, Jungwon relaxed. Mixed in with the smell of the night air, you smelled like your usual peachy perfume. Your touch, just like he had remembered it, was soft. Kind.
Jungwon brought a hesitant hand up to the small of your back, in an attempt to quell your distress. Yet, he felt such a weird warmth as you clung onto him.
"I h—hate him, Spider-Man!" you cried, your hand gripping his forearm. "I hate him— so much."
And maybe if Jungwon was stronger than he was now, he would have just listened to you silently without any questions, patting your back and lending you a shoulder to cry on. But he wasn't.
"Who?" he breathed into your ear, his brows knitted together. That horrible gnawing feeling filled his stomach once again. He didn't want to know what your answer was, but that sickening curiosity was burning from the inside out. "Who do you hate?—Did you— Did you get hurt?"
You shook your head, looking up at the hero. The moonlight reflected off your eyes. You looked so pretty, even when you were crying. Jungwon's heart ached at the sight of your pained face. My baby, he thought. After all this time, you could commit all the grievances in the world, and if you just looked at him with your big, teary eyes, he would acquit you of all your crimes.
You tugged on his arm, your glossy eyes staring at him like he was some god, pulling him back into your room. And against all resolutions that Jungwon tried to make to himself, he followed you in anyway.
As your balcony door clicked shut, Jungwon watched as you pulled him onto your bed with you, pulling him as close as you could as you continued to cry, murmuring about how much you hated "him."
This time, Jungwon just let his eyes fall shut. He hadn't laid down in your bed in a while, and frankly, he thought your bed was more comfortable than his. With you so close to him, and his arms wrapped around you, for a split second, it felt like he was back together with you. It felt like another one of those nights where you'd cry into his arms about how stressed you were, and all he could offer up was his presence to console you.
"I know, I know," he gently whispered into your ears. You always loved it when he reassured you like that. He rubbed slow circles on your back, continuing to whisper soft reassurances into your ear, even if he knew that you couldn't hear him. "I know, love."
"I c-cant get over him," you lamented. At this point, Jungwon's chest was wet. "I don't know why I c-can't. I h-hate him so much."
Jungwon gulped as his gut twisted.
"Tell me," he rasped. He knew what your words meant. He knew better than anyone that you were talking about him, that it was him that you hated. But he needed to hear it from your lips first, to get real confirmation. Despite the weak feeling in his knees and the pang in his chest, he wanted to listen to you.
After all, he'd do anything to make you feel better, even if you didn't know it was him. And he knew how to do that exactly.
You lifted your head to look at him in the eyes, shaking your head profusely. "But i-it's pa—pathetic," you stammered, but when you could feel Jungwon's unwavering gaze on you, you gave in. Resting your cheek on the hero's shoulder, you spoke in a low, shaky voice. You told him everything— every thought and emotion that's been swirling your mind. You told him of how you still constantly thought about Jungwon, how you felt like in every crevice of your life he was there, how you've done everything you could to get over him with fruitless results. You cried and cried and cried. You detailed to him what types of restless nights you had, what kinds of thoughts swirled through your head whenever you thought about your ex.
"I miss him," you ended your tear-filled rant with. "I mi-miss him s-so much and I feel so—so d-dumb."
And if you weren't so caught up in your feelings, you would have noticed how the hero's body tensed with each word that fell from your lips.
A silence fell over you and Spider-Man, as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, letting your bated breaths calm down with each hiccup. You let your heart rate slow down, as your eyes— sore from crying— rested. Against you, the hero was so... still. He was definitely breathing, but it was slow and tranquil. If you listened hard enough, you could hear his heart beat; weirdly enough, it was erratic and loud.
That's what Jungwon's heartbeat sounds like when he's excited, you thought, before shaking your head and pushing that thought into the back of your mind. The mere thought of Jungwon made your stomach churn. You didn't want to even entertain that thought.
"Spider-Man...." you began in a soft voice, your finger coming up to poke his masked face. No response. "Spider-Man, are you asleep—"
Suddenly, Jungwon jolted up from the bed, his voice ripping through the air: "Boo!"
You let out a loud shriek, jumping away from him, surprised. You stared at him for a few moments, before Jungwon bursted out into giggles. On your bed, you watched as the red-and-blue masked hero who had just tried to startle you attempted to conceal his giggles, clamping a hand over his mouth.
"S-Sorry—" his voice was shaky, trying so goddamn hard not to laugh. Airy laughs escaped his lips, filling the air with something that felt all too familiar.
Despite having just cried for what seemed like forever, you slapped his chest, your lips pulling up into a wobbly smile. Spider-Man's laughter was contagious, and even as you continued to lightly punch him, you couldn't help but let giggles fall from your own mouth.
"Sh-Shut up!" you said between laughs. Having enough, you reached for a stray pillow and threw it at him. "You're so annoying!"
You couldn't remember the last time you laughed like this with someone. In fact, perhaps if you weren't so busy beating Spider-Man up like your life depended on it, you would have noticed the way your beloved hero was watching you closely. Jungwon knew exactly how to get you to loosen up; and in this case, it was to do something so stupid and dorky that you had no choice but to laugh.
"Ow! Ow!" Jungwon squirmed like a spider that had just gotten hit by bug spray. He let you win, as now he was pinned down on the bed, with you smothering him with your pillows. "White flag—Ack!"
Your laughter rang through the room. You weren't even that strong, but Jungwon did not dare to use his own strength on you. That wouldn't be fair.
That's right, he thought. Forget about me. Forget about the pain, forget about everything that I've done to you. Your eyes crinkled and your nose scrunched and your lips parted when you threw your head back and laughed. If he could preserve that laughter for the rest of his life, he would. Forget about me, baby.
"Jesus Christ, Spider-Man!" you snickered, as you held him down with a hand on his hard chest. "I thought you were stronger than this."
Jungwon's strong hand slid to wrap around your wrist. "You really wanna see strength?"
A weak yet sly grin spread across your face. You leaned down to him, so close that your noses touched. Almost purring,"Try me— Eek!"
That was all the confirmation he needed. In an instant, Jungwon flipped the two of you over, crashing into the soft plushness of your bed. This time, he was the one pinning you down. And while airy laughter fell from your lips, the surprise of Jungwon's outburst reducing you to giggles, Jungwon was distracted. You're just so pretty, so strikingly beautiful that he had no choice but to admire you.
And if Jungwon wasn't so distracted, he would have noticed the way that you stared at him owlishly, with a type of hunger and curiosity that was all too familiar. As if a lightbulb had switched on, your arms slithered up from under him to wrap around his neck. With glassy eyes and a girlish giggle, you gently pulled him toward your face.
Jungwon's body froze up as you plant a soft, tender kiss on his masked cheek, a spluttering sound coming from his mouth.
"Relax, silly," you rasped into his ear with a chuckle. Even with the mask, your fingers found their way to the crook between Jungwon's ear and jaw, delicately running your fingers over that spot and mindlessly caressing it— something that always made shivers roll down Jungwon's back. "You can save lives but you can't handle a girl kissing you?"
Jungwon's face felt hot. "Shut— Shut up!" That night, you eventually laughed yourself to sleep, and after tucking you in, Jungwon left with a bittersweet feeling in his chest. He hoped that he'd given you any type of emotional refuge, so that you would eventually forget the hurt and pain that he had caused you.
To be a girl, after a long week of stress, unloading your worries and the like in a nice steamy bath— Oh, that is the best thing any person could experience.
You relished in the warm solitude of your bathtub. You hummed along to the quiet music you liked to play when you bathed, the peachy bubbles and scent of your soap filling your senses. You relaxed with an "ahh" into the water. Tonight was going to be perfect. After this bath, you were going to do your skincare routine and lather yourself with your new yummy lotion. Then you'd go make yourself a late night snack. Then maybe you'd spend the night reading some manga, or watching some shows, or anything you wanted frankly.
You had worries: finding an internship, employment, boy troubles. But this was no time to care about them. You let your eyelids gently fall shut... and maybe if you weren't careful, you might... just... drift... off...
"Eep!" You're startled back into reality by the sound of a distant crash! You glance around your bathroom, clutching yourself. It didn't sound nearby, so you had nothing to worry about. You sunk into the water again, letting your tense muscles relax into the warmth. Your tired eyes fell closed again. And maybe this time.... you'd be permitted the peace... to just... drift... off...
Crash! You jolted up, your eyes shooting open. This time, this crashing sound was much louder, and appeared to be much closer. Following that outburst was the sound of rustling and scrambling, which (in your already paranoid state) confirmed your fears that whatever the cause was, it was too close to you.
Emboldened, you stepped out of your bathtub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body tightly, before slipping your shower slippers on.
And maybe you're dumb. Really dumb. But you peaked your head out your bathroom door, eyes glazing over the hallway between your bathroom and kitchen. Everything seemed fine. You crept out of the bathroom. Your entire apartment was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. Slowly, you made your way into your bedroom. It looked normal, not a single hair out of place. Nothing was wrong then.
Since you were already out of the bathroom, you should probably start dressing anyway. You loosened your grip around the towel, and just as the fabric fell from your chest—
"[N-Name]?!"
There had to be something psychological about the way bright red and blue were incredible at camouflaging, because you had not noticed the red and blue superhero perched at your window. And it seemed like he didn't notice you either, until now.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried. But it was too late. There you were, naked in all your glory and exposed entirely to the spider hero himself. You didn't know what was worse. The feeling of the cool air hitting your skin, sending goosebumps on your arms, or the feeling of Spider-Man practically ogling at you. It didn't seem to matter because the two of you stood like that: in silence, in complete and utter horror.
"I-I'm..." You've never seen Spider-Man more flustered, but if you weren't too busy trying to cover yourself up, scrambling for your fallen towel, you would have noticed the way the hero's hand shot up to clutch his face in embarrassment. A habit that you loved to see in your ex-boyfriend. "S... Sorr—"
"Get out!" you cried, clutching your towel so tightly as you began reaching for all of the pillows and plushes on your bed, hurling at the hero at full-force. Your face burned with embarrassment as you heaved. "Out! N-Now!"
Spider-Man simply stood there, stunned, which was weird considering that he should have a fast enough reaction time to stop you. Frustrated, you threw yourself on your bed, throwing the blanket over your naked body and pushing your face into the mattress, humiliated and flustered beyond belief.
"Get out!" you cried again, your eyes almost welling up with tears with how embarrassed you were. You felt so hot all over that you could probably melt. You hadn't felt this way— this flustered and embarrassed— in so long. You murmured, "What are you even doing here?!"
Finally breaking from his stupor, Spider-Man spluttered, "I-I just wanted to check up... on you."
You groaned from under the blanket, muffled, and that seemed to egg the hero on with a squeak. Words tumbling from his mouth like water, he squeals, "It seems like you're doing well! Youlookgoodasever—I mean— In all the years I've known you, you always look amazing— Like— Uhm— I— You're always—" he sucked in a deep breath, and you could hear how red his face was under the mask— "Beautiful."
There's a long silence, before Spider-Man nearly shouts, "Okay bye!"
And with that, he climbed out your balcony, and swung away. You stay where you are under the blanket all huddled up for a few moments, before you let out a giddy little chuckle. You flipped over to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, before it hit you.
"Years?" you said aloud. Spider-Man said that you've been beautiful in all the "years" that he's known you.
You sat up. But you swore you only knew him for a few months.
Hm. Interesting.
Jungwon cursed under his breath. Fuck. He was in a pickle. After a few weeks in hiding, archvillain Baron von Fizzlebang was back for more, this time with more to show. It seemed like every time, he was getting progressively worse and worse. New gadgets, new costumes, new methods of entrancing people. First, Baron von Fizzlebang entranced a mob to rob a bank. Then, he controlled some elementary schoolers and tried to get them to walk into oncoming traffic (really evil of him). Most recently, the supervillain tried to possess the entire fire department and make them commit arson in an ironic turn of events. If it weren't for Jungwon's restless fighting, the entire city might have gone up in flames already.
Simultaneously, against his own better judgement, yet in alignment with his heart, Jungwon found himself intentionally coming to see you more. It's shameful that despite cutting you out of his life he still tried to keep you at an arm's reach. But oh, Jungwon was so greedy. Each time your face lit up when he appeared on your balcony left him eager for more. Every smile and little touch had him hungry. Hungry for more of you, hungry to keep you for himself, hungry to hide you from the world and selfishly have you all to himself. And the worst part was, your grief and sadness over civilian-Jungwon was slowly dissipating with time: you were reverting back to the you that he knew, not the sad, crestfallen version of you.
But, he had no time to think of that. Right now, Jungwon was beaten up pretty badly, resting atop the roof of a building and leaning against some structure there.
It's not easy to fight one Baron von Fizzlebang, when he's able to manipulate up to a hundred people to do his own bidding. Jungwon doesn't want to hurt the civilians under Baron von Fizzlebang's control, but how is he supposed to win at all if these civilians are being used to attack him?
One eye was incapacitated, with blood dripping down Jungwon's forehead and his lip bleeding. Even in the darkening night sky, Jungwon could tell that there were a few tears here and there on his hero costume, but the worst part was that Jungwon's right shoulder was most definitely out of commission.
Luckily, Jungwon got the victimized civilians to safety. Unluckily, Baron von Fizzlebang was still on the loose, pretty much unscathed. Jungwon could work under severe pressure, with great injuries too. But for some reason, he absolutely couldn't think straight as he stumbled to his feet, clutching his injured shoulder. He blinked his one working eye slowly, trying to see clearly, but there was too much blood coming from his head after getting slammed against a brick wall for him to get a clear view.
At the very least, Jungwon needed to locate where the villain went—
"Yoo-hoo!" a sing-songy voice boomed, and Jungwon whipped his pounding head around. "Spidey-Spidey!~"
Lo and behold, Baron von Fizzlebang was (for some reason) suspended in the air, completely uninjured, a stark difference from Jungwon's hunched-over, painful form. With his extravagant costume, he waved mockingly at Jungwon, a cackle spilling from him. "I'm back for more, Spidey. Are you?"
Jungwon's eyes narrowed, a pained grunt escaping his lips before he limped toward the villain. He sucked in a sharp breath. The blood from his bleeding lip tasted metallic on his tongue, but his physical pain mattered not— not when the livelihood and safety of the city was on the line because of this maniac.
"Yeah," Jungwon responded breathily, stumbling. "Come get me."
Much to Jungwon's chagrin, from Baron von Fizzlebang came some strange metal contraption. With big and long metal tentacle arms with grabby hands at the ends, Baron von Fizzlebang laughed maniacally as his new gargantuan device conjured a physical reaction out of Jungwon. Faster than Jungwon could move, the villain's metal arms snatched him up.
"Let me go—Ack!" Jungwon squirmed in the contraption's grasp.
"No," Baron von Fizzlebang said simply. "All you do is ruin my plans to take over this city!"
Jungwon cried in pain as the metal hands squeezed him tighter. The villain laughed again. "Have you ever had to experience someone try to ruin something you care about, Spider-Man?" Jungwon opened his mouth to choke a retort, but the Baron continued. "Or in your case, someone that you care about?"
Jungwon continued to squirm in the metal hands' grasp, the villain taking it as a sign to continue his villainous monologue.
"You don't think that I don't know you have a secret little girlfriend, right? She's the same one I claimed that one night at Bisco's." At the sound of that, Jungwon tensed up even more. No.... Don't tell me.."Maybe I should let this little spider go. To make you really feel my pain, why don't I go pay your little girlfriend a visit again."
"No!—" tore from Jungwon's throat, but it was too late. With panic filling his body, Baron von Fizzlebang's metal tentacles hurled him through the sky before the villain took off. Presumably to find you. And even though Jungwon was falling through the sky with an incapacitated eye and shoulder, all he could think about was you.
Every single fear and made-up scenario of you getting hurt or even worse, dying, as a result of Jungwon ran through his head in the milliseconds that he was in the air.
Just as Jungwon was about to slam against a sky-scraper, he shot a web to catch himself. His hands shook as he stabilized himself against another wall.
Dammit, dammit, dammit— I'm so fucking stupid— She's in danger now— Everything that he had feared was coming true, and it was all a result of Jungwon's selfishness and negligence and— Jungwon took a deep breath, not noticing that he had neglected to breathe as he spiraled. He shoved his face in his hands. Think, think, think. He had to do something.
He looked at his hands. He had to go find you, and warn you. Move you to safety, make sure you're somewhere safe where that maniac couldn't find you.
Even with all his injuries, nothing stopped Jungwon as he shot webs across the sky. With all the remaining strength in his body, and with all the power he could muster up, Jungwon flew across the sky to where he knew you'd be: in your apartment.
And just as he expected, you were in your room, peacefully listening to music and painting your nails. Usually, he'd be courteous and wait for you to welcome him in. But Jungwon had no time to waste: he crashed onto your balcony, practically busting into your room through the doors.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried, startled by his sudden entrance.
"You have to leave," Jungwon breathed with labored huffs. He clamored toward you, grabbing you by your shoulders. "I-I don't have time to explain—"
"What— What are you talking about?—"
Jungwon gripped your shoulders, the vehemence in his voice resounding as he desperately repeated, "You have to leave. It-It's not safe for you— I need you to leave and go somewhere sa—"
"Spider-Man," you said firmly. Jungwon breathed shakily, swallowing down hard. He shook his head. It felt like the world had fallen into his shoulders.
"Please, [Name]," he pleaded. Even with a mask, you can hear his sheer desperation. "Please listen to me this time."
You stared at him, with a curious yet concerned look, like you were studying him. “Please,” Jungwon said again, his voice high-pitched and cracking. His grip on you loosened, but his head hung low.“Please.”
You kept your eyes stuck on him, but Jungwon couldn’t focus. All he could think about was how you could die. Everything hurt, and yet nothing did at the same time. The mere thought of something even worse happening to you made Jungwon’s gut twist, the oncoming fear so great that it effectively numbed everything in him.
“I can’t— I can’t lose you—“
There was something unsettling about you that Jungwon never figured out. You’re sensitive and soft, but strong-willed and stern. But you’re also a level of smart that Jungwon couldn’t understand.
Which was why he couldn’t possibly understand why you grabbed him by his shoulders, pulled him into you, and slammed your lips against his. You let your lips stay on his for a little bit, but before you could pull away, all the hunger and fear consumed Jungwon whole. His large hands grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. Greedily, like a starved man, Jungwon hungrily kissed you back, holding you tightly as his breathing picked up.
Maybe it was all the adrenaline, or the pain and delirium, or just Jungwon’s fear, but he didn’t even think about what he was doing. Your lips against his, your body pressed against him, and your scent overtaking his mind— it all made it impossible for him to stop.
He muttered your name against your lips, grasping you like you’d disappear any minute. Your soft body on him felt heavenly, as he drank you in. Everything felt hot and everything ached, but even with his mask on, it felt so delicious. He heaved as your lips moved against his. A choked breath and whimper escaped his lips as you slid tongue into his mouth, your hands slithering up his chest and wrapping around his neck, the way that he always liked it. Almost like you knew how to make him feel good.
The kiss halted to a slow stop, with the two of you gently pulling away. And Jungwon, too dazed, didn’t know what to expect next— and he definitely didn’t expect the next words that came out of your mouth.
"Jungwon," you hummed against his lips, looking at him with an expression that he couldn't read. Jungwon's heart plummeted to his stomach, shaky eyes widening.
"Wh-What—" he began, but you brought a finger up to his lip, hushing him. No way. There's no way that you knew it was him all along—
"You need to calm down, Jungwon," you said as you pulled away from him, eyes glued to his masked face. You took his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his hand slowly, the way that always helped calm him down. "I know you. You're spiraling. We can't do anything if you're panicking. Deep breaths."
"I don't— I don't understand," Jungwon whispered, his strong body still. Had you known it was him all along? And if you did, why didn't you say or do anything? Did you find him pathetic? "How did you know?"
You blinked at him slowly, before a bashful grin pulled onto your face. You reached your hand out to him, your palm finding itself on his cheek. In a moment of instinct, Jungwon leaned into your touch.
"That's how I knew," you breathed. Your lithe fingertips then prodded at the crook between his jaw and his ear, the sensitive spot, and just as you expected, Jungwon shuddered. Your fingers traced down his jaw to his neck, pressing on the tender spot in the middle of his neck. Much to Jungwon's personal mortification, he let out a gasp, and when you leaned closer to his neck— so close that he could feel your breath on him— Jungwon let out a soft sound and shivered. Your lip grazed against the covered skin of his neck, watching him intently as you earn a sensitive whimper from him.
"What— What are you doing—" Jungwon was cut off again by your lip pressing against his jugular, at the spot that never failed to make him cry out in pleasure. Jungwon's ears burned, but the blood rushing through his body made him feel hot all over. He leaned his head back, eyes falling shut.
"I know you, Jungwon." Your voice was low, almost like a purr. Your hands continued to run over his jaw and neck, hooking onto the edge of his mask and uncovering the honey tan skin of his neck. You pressed your lips against his exposed skin, another gasp falling from his lips. "You're not good at hiding anything. And you're not a convincing liar."
You pulled his mask up, exposing his lower jaw and lips. When he muttered your name startled, you pulled the entire mask off.
Lo and behold, just as you had expected, it was Jungwon Yang. You had your suspicions, and when you made them known to him you were certain that you were right. And yet, you're still taken aback when it's really Jungwon behind the mask. His overgrown blonde hair falling over his eyes, his cat-like eyes staring at you with a mix of fear, shame, and desire, his jaw that had gotten stronger— you drank in every last bit of it.
"Son of a bitch," you murmured under your breath.
Jungwon hadn't noticed the way his chest pounded and how his breathing became erratic, nor did he notice that he was now blinking back tears, his chest heaving. "I—I'm sorry—" he struggled to get out, his voice getting caught in his throat. "Oh— I'm so— I"m sorry—"
He couldn't tell if you were angry, or disgusted, or both... because despite the unreadable look on your face, you still grabbed his face, slamming your lips against his once more.
Your fingers brusquely grab at his hair, tangling themselves in his grown-out blonde locks. This time, you're the hungry one. Your hands slid down his chest again, grasping onto his strong, toned arms, and running your hands all over him. Your lips moved surly against his, as if you hadn't been fed in days.
"You're a jackass," you rasped against him, and yet you kept kissing him like he'd disappear. "Fucking jackass." Jungwon tried to murmur apologies, but you kept kissing him, shutting him up. You pushed him against your bed slowly as your lips moved, so that he had no choice but to fall back onto it.
With Jungwon's back now pressed up against your bed, you were on top of him. Your hands roamed his body, and Jungwon couldn't help but let his eyes fall shut.
"I-I'm sorry," he rumbled, but with you on top of him, lips all over him, he couldn't do much but gasp and squirm under your touch. "I-I didn't mean to—"
Boom! In the distance, a massive explosion sound careened through the air. You and Jungwon, both alarmed, froze in your position. Even with you filling his senses, Jungwon's immediate thought is simple: he is Spider-Man.
Jungwon felt your body tense against his, with fear painted on your face. His body felt hot all over, the excitement still pulsing through his veins and desperate need for you still clouding his mind. But a trembling, paralyzed you was enough to pull him away from himself, and force him to focus.
In one fell swoop, Jungwon pulls the two of you to your feet, his arms wrapping around your waist firmly, yet gently. Ignoring your questions, he felt around for his discarded mask, before shooting a web from his fingers and pulling it to him.
"You have to go," he said to you, his hands tightening around your waist. Jungwon watched as your brows crashed together, your expression morphing from bewilderment to hurt, and then anger.
"What are you— Jungwon—" Jungwon ignored you, quickly searching around your room. He took a jacket from your closet (which was definitely his), before draping it around your shoulders.
"I'm serious," he said, his voice cracking with earnestness. "I mean it, [Name]. You have to go."
It was your turn to splutter, scoffing in disbelief. "Where would I even go? I don't know why you're saying this—"
Jungwon chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments, before he huffed. "Go to Jake's."
You're about to scoff again, but Jungwon— the most tender person you've ever met— sent you a stern look that shuts you up.
"Tell him that I sent you," Jungwon instructed. "Tell him to keep you safe. And text me when you're there...." the boy trails off, awkwardly scratching his head, "If I'm not blocked, y'know.... Or just have Jake text me."
You stared at him in silence, blinking slowly, in an attempt to assess his face. Finally, you sigh, your face looking sad. "Okay."
Jungwon helped you collect your things, the two of you engulfed in a silence, with nothing filling your apartment but the ambient sound of your footsteps and breaths. That is, until it was time for you to go.
"I-I think I should go now," you said shakily, your back turned to Jungwon as you reached for your front door. Jungwon solemnly nodded, wistfully staring at you as he fiddled with his mask; his face was still uncovered, making it difficult to hide his concern, yet he didn't have the courage to put his mask back on. Not when you were here. And Jungwon would have let you go like that, alone into the night, if it weren't for the sound of your sniffles.
"Hey, hey," he called out to you, reaching out to you and taking hold of your shoulder. His brows furrowed. "[Name], what is it?"
You sniffled, your breath getting caught in your throat, and it was clear now that you were crying. However, you just shook your head, your back still turned to him.
"Baby," Jungwon said again. "Baby, please tell me. What is it? Why are you crying?"
The sound of Jungwon's voice made you tense up again. You let out a choked sob, before you sucked in a sharp breath. "Th-That."
Jungwon reached for your face, tilting your chin so that you would face him, but you wouldn't budge. "Talk to me. Please."
"That!" you cried. You sucked in another sharp breath as you threw your face into your palms. "You— You l-left me the first time... and— and now you're leaving a-again."
Jungwon's chest ached, and in a moment of remorse and desire, he slid his hands around your waist, pulling you into an embrace with you pressed against his chest. The way you always liked it. He pressed his cheek against your head, his own tears welling up in his eyes as you sniffled and cried.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes squeezing shut. He knew he hurt you, it was nothing new to him. But just knowing that never made the regret feel any better. He kissed your head. "I'm so sorry."
There's another explosion in the distance, and Jungwon's hold on you tightened. "Please. I'll make it up to you. Please just go this time."
You shook your head. "I—I don't get it. J-Jungwon, I don't g-get it—"
In your state, there was no way you'd make it to safety in time. And Jungwon was a fool for thinking that you could, not after opening up the wounds you were trying to heal from. Jungwon pressed one more kiss on your head. He hauled you into his arms, ignoring your protests, only saying, "Wrap your arms around me."
Jungwon wished he had more time. He wished he could sit you down and explain everything. But there was no time, and he had to make sure you were safe first: he'd like to do it himself. All the injuries from earlier had been healed for the most part, just enough that he had strength.
"Hold on tight, baby," he said in your ear before putting his mask on, and shooting a web out your window. Jungwon figured it was your first time soaring with Spider-Man, because you let out a squeal, hiding your face in his neck.
"Jungwon!" you cried, your eyes still lined with tears. "P-Please, I'm scared—"
Jungwon chuckled, but complied with your request, taking less risky swings. And when he arrived at Jake's apartment, he simply forced his friend's window open. Much to his luck, Jake was already there.
"S-Spider-Man?!" Jake gawked. It wasn't every day that the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man showed up at your window. Then, his eyes fell on you. "[N-Name]?!"
Gently, Jungwon set you down. "Jungwon's request: Keep her safe."
Jake, utterly baffled, opened his mouth to speak. But like a little boy (quite literally) seeing his favorite super-hero for the first time, Jake nodded dutifully, his eyes comically filling with stars. "Yes sir!"
Jungwon nodded satisfied. He knew he could count on Jake. As Jungwon readied himself to jump out the window, he's stopped by your soft voice.
"G-Good luck..." you murmured, fiddling with your fingers. "Don't die... please."
Jungwon couldn't help but grin. "Of course."
And with that, he swung away, ready to kick ass.
You're already asleep when Jungwon finds you back at Jake's house. He felt a little bad about placing the burden of you on Jake, but Jungwon couldn't care more about that when your life was on the line. Jungwon, in his hero form of course, left a note for Jake on the kitchen counter, as he slowly wrapped his arms around your sleeping figure.
You're left sleeping on Jake's couch, with a throw blanket awkwardly draped over you. He appreciated Jake's efforts, grinning softly as the way you stirred in your sleep. It's near dawn, and Jungwon couldn't ignore the ache in his body. But even so, the way your eyes were puffy, your cheeks stained lightly with tears made his chest ache more than his body did.
As quietly as he could, Jungwon took you in his arms, and took you back to his apartment (he didn't have the keys to your apartment, and he didn't want to make you angrier by breaking in). Helicopters were still flying overhead, the sound of police sirens below filling the air. Jungwon's eyes twitched with tiredness, his straining muscles nearly giving out. The city was asleep, and yet it was still functionally cleaning up the mess from earlier.
Speaking of, that son of a bitch Baron von Fizzle-dick or whatever was now in police custody. Jungwon was too exhausted to remember the details, but it was a long and tiring fight. One that was painful.
As he swung through the sky, Jungwon couldn't forget the fight. He was hit pretty badly, almost nearly stabbed in the chest. His entire body was in pain, and if it weren't for the precious you in his arms, Jungwon thought he would collapse mid-air. The feeling of the insurmountable physical agony that that villain inflicted on him was definitely one for the books. Jungwon could still feel the blood dripping down his back. But what was even worse were the things Baron von Fizzlebang had said. The threats he made, the words he said: the villain, and apparently, all the villains in the city, via their underground network, seemed to know you by name. They knew you because you were a soft spot for Spider-Man. It terrified him that now you had a target on your back. He cursed himself for letting himself get comfortable, for endangering you in the process. Even if he won the fight now, Jungwon couldn't forget the fear.
As he landed on his window, Jungwon slowly cracked it open, supporting both you and himself as he brought the two of you into his apartment. He placed you down on his bed, pulling his comforter over you. He watched as you snuggled into his bed, a satisfied murmur falling from your lips. You looked so peaceful, and for a moment, Jungwon could forget all the pain he felt.
Jungwon looked down at his hands. Ripped gloves, blood-stained palms... will it ever go away?
He pulled away from you, about to make his way to his bathroom. He ought to wash the blood off his hands. The night was at its peak, the dreariest that it had ever been. He didn't know what time it was— he lost track of that a long time ago— but all he knew was that it was dark outside. He better get some sleep too. But as he pulled away from you, he felt a few fingers weakly grip his arm. He froze.
"Jung... won..." you murmured. Your eyes were shut, and your voice sounded dreamy.
"I'm here," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't realized it, but his voice broke. Really, all he felt like doing was crying.
"Don't leave," you mumbled. Your fingers tightened around his arm. "I'll do.... do anything..." you drew on. "Just... don't go."
"Oh, baby—" And with that Jungwon broke, the hot tears he hadn't even realized he were holding in spilling. He pulled on his mask. He dropped to his knees, resting his head on the bed beside you. "I... I never meant to. I never wanted to leave you—"
You hummed, murmuring something incoherent. "Stay."
Jungwon let out a shaky breath. "I will— I really want to— Please, let me—"
"Jungwon," you said, rather firmly. You still had your eyes shut.
"I'm here, baby." Jungwon sniffled, swiping the back of his ragged hand to wipe his nose. "I'm not gonna go— I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so—"
"In the... morning," you whispered. Before Jungwon could ask, you continued. "Talk in the morning."
Jungwon's voice broke again. "W-What?"
Your hand reached out for him again, this time falling onto his disheveled head. Jungwon nearly flinched at the feeling of your hand running through his hair, but instinctively he leaned into your touch. For a few moments, your fingers ran through his blonde locks, such a foreign feeling and yet a welcome one. Jungwon let his eyes shut, and they burned as his lids fell shut.
Your voice is quiet, and Jungwon is almost certain you're awake now. "Jake told me some things. I put two and two together."
"Really?" Jungwon, too tired to be mad. "Was it bad?"
You only hummed, giving him a classic nonresponse. Your fingers continued through his hair. "Go to sleep now."
"But—"
You hushed him, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "I love you."
Jungwon was stunned, but it felt so natural as, "I love you, too," tumbled from his lips.
There's a warmth that spreads across his chest, reassuring and comforting. But yet, so deeply harrowing, and so deeply frightening. He's a man of a thousand words and complex ideas, and you knew it, so you hushed Jungwon before he could continue, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "We'll talk in the morning."
Jungwon opened his mouth to protest. But as your fingers ran through his hair, he couldn't help the satisfying chills that ran down his spine. And everything hurt, and it hurt so bad that it was unbearable and Jungwon felt like he couldn't take it.
But your touch was so soft and familiar, Jungwon felt like.... for a second... he could maybe... fall into your touch... and just... take... it... easy...
You chuckled softly. "You're not alone. I'll carry your burden with you."
It's his turn to hum, nearly satisfied. As he drifted off into a deep slumber, his troubles melting away into the palms of your hands, there's only one last thought in Jungwon's head.
Maybe there will be a new day tomorrow, and hopefully, he won't be alone when the day breaks.
when your impossibly good luck vanishes overnight after kissing a stranger at a masquerade ball, a fortune teller confirms what sounds impossible: you transferred it to someone who needed it more. now you have to find jungwon who accidentally stole your fortune, except you start to think that maybe meeting him was the luckiest thing that ever happened to you.
⭑ pairing: jungwon x fem!reader | ⭑ genre: luck swap au, romcom, fluff, crack, strangers to lovers, slowburn, roommates to lovers; smut (mdni) | ⭑ playlist: just my luck - mcfly; no control - one direction; t-shirt weather - circa waves; whisper for the choir - the fratellis; just like a movie - wallows | ⭑ word count: 33k
⭑ warnings: smut (mdni!!!!), unemployment lollll; soft down jungwon, switch jungwon, mutual pining, power play, praise kink, oral m&f receiving, piv, light spanking, protected sex
⭑ ronnie's notes: guys i’ve been keeping this plot hostage for like six months at least i actually started writing it as a smau but then i gave up because i got lazy just like with every smau i’ve ever made (except nicest guy i miss my child then i sat there and thought wait this would work way better as a written fic right??? idk it just made sense in my head!!! so anyway she is finally here 🫶 my second jungwon fic!!! i really hope you guys like it because i’m lowkey attached to this one 🥹 it’s inspired by the movie just my luck btw!! and if you’ve never seen it i SWEAR it’s sooo cute you need to watch it. mcfly was one of my favorite bands growing up so that movie has a special place in my heart and i basically wrote mcfly as enhypen LMAOO anyway that’s it i hope you enjoy the story 💌
YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN LUCKY. Every morning you wake up exactly one minute before your alarm goes off. The coffee shop always has your order ready when you walk in even though you never call ahead. You find money in jacket pockets you forgot about. Traffic lights turn green right as you approach them. When it rains, it starts the moment you step inside. Your friends joke that you were born under a lucky star, but it's more than that. It's like the universe decided you were its favorite, and it's been making sure you know it ever since.
And this morning is no different. You're running late for work — or you would be, if the subway train hadn't been delayed by exactly the amount of time you needed to make it to the platform. You slip through the closing doors with seconds to spare, and someone immediately stands up offering you their seat. At work, your boss announces that the company's landing a huge new client, and they want you on the project. You find a twenty dollar bill on the ground during your lunch break.
It's not magic, it's just how your life works. And across the city, Yang Jungwon is having the worst day of his life.
Actually, that's not quite right. He's having the worst day of his life so far, which is saying something, because yesterday was pretty bad too. And the day before that. And the day before that too.
Jungwon is a band manager, which sounds cooler than it actually is. He represents ENHYPEN: Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Jake; four guys with genuine talent and absolutely zero luck in the industry. They've been trying to get a record deal for two years now, and every single opportunity has somehow slipped through their fingers at the last possible second. Like today, he was supposed to have a meeting with a major label. Supposed to, because Jungwon woke up to a dead phone battery (he'd definitely plugged it in), missed his alarm, and then got stuck in traffic caused by a water main break that, according to the news, had a "one in a million chance of happening there." By the time he arrived at the venue, drenched from the sudden downpour that started the second he left his apartment, the label executives were already gone. "They waited thirty minutes," the venue manager told him, not unkindly. "I'm sorry, man."
Now Jungwon sits in a coffee shop, dripping rainwater onto the floor and staring at his laptop screen. His email inbox is full of rejections. His coffee tastes burnt, the cafe's wifi keeps cutting out. And when his phone buzzes with a text from Jay: Howd it go? Jungwon doesn't have the heart to respond yet. He runs a hand through his wet hair and closes his eyes. Somewhere out there, he thinks, someone must be using up all the good luck in the world. Somewhere out there, someone has to be.
And as you arrive at the office, the elevator dings right as you approach it and doors slide open like it was waiting just for you. You step inside and you continue up to the fifth floor, where the marketing agency you work for occupies the entire level. The glass doors swing open and you're immediately hit with the chaos that comes with planning high profile events in the city. Your desk is right by the window, which you'd worried about when you first started because of the glare, but somehow the sun never hits your screen and you have a fire view of the city skylines.
You drop your bag on your chair and head to the break room for water. Sunoo is already there, fighting with the coffee machine. "This thing hates me," he says while smacking the side of it. "I swear it only works for you."
"Want me to try?"
"Please." You press the same buttons he was pressing and the machine immediately whirs to life, dispensing espresso into his cup. Sunoo stares at it. "I don't understand your life."
"Maybe you just have to ask nicely."
"I literally said please three times." He takes his coffee anyway shaking his head. "Did you see the email? We have a meeting with Director Kim in twenty minutes."
You hadn't seen it, but when you check your phone the notification is right there, sent ten minutes ago. Back at your desk, you pull up the project files you'd been working on yesterday. Yunjin rolls her chair over from the adjacent desk, holding out a glazed donut. "They were giving these out in the lobby. Grabbed you one."
"Thanks, Yunjin." You take it and it's still warm. "You're the best."
"I know." She grins. "So, any idea what the meeting's about?"
"No clue."
"I heard it's something big," Riki says, appearing behind you both. The intern is holding a stack of folders that looks about two seconds from toppling over. "Like, really big."
"Everything's big to you," Sunoo says. "You've been here for three weeks."
"Three weeks and two days," Riki corrects. "And I'm just saying, Director Kim only calls meetings like this when it's important."
He's not wrong. Director Kim usually communicates through email or quick desk drop bys. Formal meetings mean something significant is happening. So you make your way to the conference room, it has floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Director Kim is already there, sitting at the head of the table with her tablet and a cup of tea. "Good, you're all here," she says as you file in. "Sit down. We need to talk about HYBE." You exchange glances with Sunoo. HYBE is huge — one of the biggest music labels in the industry. Your agency has worked with them before, but only on smaller projects. Director Kim pulls up something on the screen at the front of the room. It's a preliminary event outline, and the budget number at the bottom makes your eyes widen.
"HYBE is launching a new initiative," she continues. "They're hosting a masquerade ball to introduce upcoming artists, network with industry professionals, and make a statement about their brand direction. They want it elegant, exclusive, and flawless. The event is in six weeks." Six weeks is tight for something this scale, but not impossible. "If we get this, it'll be the biggest project we have handled all year." Director Kim looks directly at you. "I want you to lead this."
The words hang in the air for a moment. "Me?" you ask.
"You." She sets down her tablet. "You've been here for two years, and every event you've touched has gone off without a single issue. I don't know how you do it, but clients love you, vendors love you, and somehow everything just works when you're in charge. Sunoo, you'll be second lead. Yunjin, you're on creative direction and vendor coordination. Riki, you'll support where needed and learn as much as possible. But this is her project. She makes the final calls."
You feel Yunjin nudge your foot under the table, a silent congratulations. "The masquerade theme is non negotiable," Director Kim continues, pulling up mood boards on the screen. "HYBE wants sophisticated, mysterious and high end. Think Venetian carnival meets modern luxury. There will be approximately three hundred guests, including artists, executives, press, and investors. The venue needs to be secured by end of this week," she says. "Catering, entertainment, decor, security, invitations — all of it has to be perfect. HYBE's reputation is on the line, which means ours is too." She looks at each of you in turn. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this. It's going to be intense. But if anyone can pull this off, it's this team." Her eyes land on you again. "Especially you. I've seen you make impossible things happen. So, what do you say?"
What do you say? This is the kind of opportunity people wait years for. The kind that could define your entire career. "I'm in," you say obviously.
Back at your desk, you open your email, and sure enough, there's already a message waiting from Director Kim with all the project files. You start scrolling through, taking in venue options and budget breakdowns. Sunoo grins next to you. "What do you think the odds are that everything goes smoothly?"
You laugh. "Pretty good, probably." And you mean it, because things always do. And that was the exact opposite of how things usually happened to Jungwon.
The cafe kicked him out after the wifi died for the third time — apparently, his presence was "disrupting the router," which doesn't even make sense but also sounds exactly like something that would happen to him. Now he's standing outside the 7 Eleven near his apartment, trying to figure out how to tell the guys that they've officially lost their best shot at a record deal. His phone rings and it's Jay. "Tell me something good," Jay says immediately.
"I'm alive?"
"Jungwon."
"They left before I got there." Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose. "Water main break, traffic, rain — the use."
There's a long silence on the other end. Then: "The use? I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and you're going to come to the bowling alley so we can all yell at you."
"I have a shift in an hour anyway."
"Perfect. Bring food. The vending machine ate Heeseung's money again." And the line goes dead.
Jungwon buys four bags of chips and a pack of energy drinks with the last cash in his wallet, and the cashier gives him the wrong change and he doesn't bother correcting her. At this point, it's expected. The bowling alley is not the worst place Jungwon's ever worked but it's close. The carpet is a geometric nightmare from the eighties, half the lanes have technical issues, and the sound system shorts out every other week. But the owner lets them use the back room for band practice as long as Jungwon keeps everything running, so he fixes bowling shoes, unjams pin setters, and pretends he knows what he's doing with electrical wiring. When he arrives, Jake is trying to kick open the storage room door. "It's stuck again," Jake announces, slamming his shoulder against it.
"Stop, you're going to break it." Jungwon drops the snacks on the front counter and heads over. He jiggles the handle, pulls instead of pushes and the door swings open easily.
Jake stares at him. "I tried that."
"Sure you did."
Inside, Sunghoon and Heeseung are setting up their equipment in the cramped space between old bowling balls and stacks of rental shoes. There's barely enough room for the drum kit, two guitars, and the microphone stand, but they make it work. "Oh good, you brought food," Heeseung says, immediately abandoning his guitar to grab a bag of chips. "The vending machine robbed me."
"So I've been told."
"Did he also tell you that Sunghoon broke a drumstick on the second song yesterday?"
"I didn't break it," Sunghoon protests from behind the kit. "It broke itself."
"Sticks don't just break themselves, Sunghoon," Jake says.
"This one did. It was defective."
"You hit the cymbal too hard."
"That's literally my job! I'm the drummer!"
Jungwon collapses into a folding chair that wobbles dangerously under his weight. Jay emerges from the tiny bathroom drying his hands on his jeans. "So," Jay says, sitting on an overturned bucket. "We're back to square one."
"Square zero," Jake corrects. "Square one implies we made progress at some point."
"We've made progress," Heeseung argues. "We're way better than we were a year ago."
"Cool. Still broke and unknown, though."
"Thanks for that, Sunghoon. Really motivating." Jungwon says.
Jake cracks open an energy drink. "What about that other label? The one Jungwon emailed last month?"
"Rejected us two weeks ago," Jungwon says flatly. "I didn't want to bring it up."
"How many is that now?" Sunghoon asks.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Not really, no."
Heeseung tears open his chip bag with too much force and half the contents spill onto the floor. "This is fine. Everything is fine."
"Nothing about this is fine," Jake says, but he's grinning. "We're a struggling band practicing in a bowling alley that smells like feet."
"It's character building," Jay offers.
"I have enough character. I want a record deal."
Jungwon leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. This is his life now. Working a dead end job at a bowling alley, managing a band that can't catch a break and somehow always being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then his phone buzzes. He checks it, hoping for something good, literally anything good. It's an email from his landlord. Rent is going up next month. "You good?" Jay asks.
"Rent increase."
"Of course it is." Jay tosses him an energy drink. "Drink that. You look dead."
"I feel dead."
Sunghoon taps his drumsticks together. "Okay, pity party's over. We practicing or what?"
"What's the point?" Jake asks. "Not like anyone's going to hear us."
"The point," Heeseung says, picking up his guitar, "is that we're good, and eventually someone's going to notice. Right, Jungwon?"
Jungwon opens his eyes. All four of them are looking at him like he has answers. He doesn't. He really, really doesn't. "Right," he says anyway, because that's what managers do. "Someone's going to notice."
"There we go. Inspirational leadership." Jay picks up his bass. "Let's run through the new song. The one Heeseung wrote."
"It's not done yet," Heeseung protests.
"Then we'll workshop it."
They launch into the song, and it actually sounds good. For a few minutes, Jungwon lets himself believe that maybe, possibly, things could work out. Then the power cuts out. The music dies instantly. The lights flicker and stay off. "Are you kidding me right now?" Sunghoon's voice comes from the darkness.
Jungwon pulls out his phone flashlight and sighs. "I'll check the breaker."
"This place is cursed," Jake says.
"No," Jungwon mutters, heading toward the electrical panel in the hallway. "I'm cursed. The place is just old."
He finds the breaker box and flips the switches. Nothing happens. He tries again. Still nothing. From inside the storage room, he hears Heeseung say, "How much do you want to bet that Jungwon's phone dies right now?" On cue, Jungwon's phone screen goes black. He stands in the dark hallway of a broken down bowling alley, his phone dead in his hand, his band waiting for him to fix something he has no idea how to fix, and he thinks, not for the first time today, that whoever's hoarding all the good luck in the world needs to share. Just a little bit.
The cafe is packed on some Thursday afternoon which makes sense because it's the only decent coffee place within walking distance of your office. You and Sunoo have been coming here at least twice a week for the past six months. "I'm getting the lavender latte," Sunoo announces, studying the menu board like he doesn't get the same thing every time. "What about you?"
"Regular iced coffee. I need to be functional for the rest of the day."
"Boring." He steps aside to let you order first. You shake your head and approach the counter.
The barista smiles at you. "Hi, what can I get you?"
"Just an iced coffee, please. Medium."
She rings it up, and then her eyes widen slightly as she looks at the computer screen. "Oh, wait. Hold on." She turns to call over her shoulder. "Manager? Can you come here for a second?" A guy with a name tag reading "Mark" appears from the back. "What's up?"
"She's the one thousandth customer this month."
Mark breaks into a grin and looks at you. "Congratulations! You get your order for free today, plus a gift card for next time."
You blink. "Really?"
"Really. It's this thing corporate makes us do for customer appreciation." He's already pulling out a gift card from behind the register. "Here you go. Twenty dollars."
"Thank you," you say, taking it. This is objectively ridiculous, but you've learned to just accept these things when they happen. Sunoo appears at your elbow, looking betrayed. "Are you serious right now?"
"What?"
"Didn't you win this same thing last month?"
"That was two months ago."
"That doesn't make it better!" Sunoo turns to the barista. "She's literally the luckiest person alive. It's unfair."
The barista laughs. "Lucky day, I guess."
"Lucky life," Sunoo mutters, but he's smiling. "Okay, I'll have the lavender latte. Medium. Which I will be paying for, apparently."
You step to the side to wait for your drink and Sunoo moves up to the counter. Behind him, the line has grown longer. There's a guy standing there now, hands shoved in his jacket pockets and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He's cute, you notice. Dark hair, big cat looking but tired eyes, nice face, a really nice face. He's staring at the menu board with intensity.
The door to the cafe swings open, and a woman with a huge purse barrels in, not looking where she's going. Her bag clips the side of a display stand near the entrance, and everything happens in slow motion. The stand wobbles. Jungwon is standing right next to it, completely unaware. The stand tips forward, and bags of coffee beans slide off the shelves, tumbling directly toward him. He turns just in time to see them coming. "Oh, come on—"
Three bags hit the floor around his feet, one of them splitting open on impact. Coffee beans scatter everywhere, rolling across the tile like marbles. "I'm so sorry!" the woman with the purse says, horrified.
"It's fine," Jungwon says, but his voice suggests it is very much not fine. He crouches down and starts trying to gather the beans, but they keep rolling away from him. One escapes under a table and another somehow rolls behind the counter. Mark rushes over with a broom. "Don't worry about it, man. We've got it."
"I can help —"
"Seriously, it's okay. Happens all the time." Jungwon knows it doesn't.
He stands up, and there are coffee beans stuck to his jeans. He brushes them off, looking exhausted in a way that seems deeper than just this one incident. Your eyes meet for a second. He's definitely cute. Even covered in coffee beans and looking like the universe personally inconvenienced him, there's something about him. He looks at you for just a moment longer, and you think maybe he's about to smile, or say something, but then the barista calls out, "Iced coffee for Y/N?"
"That's me," you say, breaking eye contact. You grab your drink from the counter and Sunoo gets his latte a moment later, and you both move toward the table. Jungwon is still standing near the wreckage of the coffee bean display waiting for the line to move forward.
"So," Sunoo says as you find a small table near the window, "did you secure the venue for the HYBE event?"
"Yeah, that gallery space in Midtown."
"Oh, the fancy one. Very masquerade ball-ish."
"Exactly. And we finalized the catering this morning. The guest list is almost done. HYBE's sending over the final names tomorrow."
"How many people?"
"Three hundred and twelve, last count."
Sunoo whistles. "That's huge. When's the event again?"
"Two weeks from Saturday. It's tight, but everything's been going smoothly so far."
"Of course it has. Because you're involved."
You laugh. "I don't think it works like that."
Behind you, you hear the cute guy finally reach the counter. His voice carries slightly. "Just a black coffee. Small."
"That'll be three fifty."
There's a pause. Then: "Uh, the reader's not working."
"Oh, sorry, yeah — it does this sometimes. Try again?"
Another pause. "Still nothing."
"Hmm. Let me reboot it real quick."
You glance over your shoulder without meaning to. Jungwon is standing there, card in hand, looking like he expected this exact scenario. "Give it a sec. It should work now."
After a while, Jungwon takes his coffee, looking stunned, and heads toward the door. As he passes your table, you catch a fragment of his muttered words: "...fuck my stupid baka life..."
"Okay, that guy had the worst luck I've ever seen," Sunoo says, watching him go. "Like, the exact opposite of you."
"Maybe he's just having a bad day."
You smile and finish your coffee. Outside, Jungwon has finally walked away, disappearing around the corner. You wonder, briefly, if you'll ever see him again. And Jungwon walks six blocks before he realizes he's going the wrong direction. He turns around, coffee in hand and tries to retrace his steps. His shoe squelches with every step. The puddle outside the cafe had been deeper than it looked. But he's not thinking about his wet shoe, or the card reader, or the coffee beans. He's thinking about the conversation he overheard.
His brain is already working through possibilities. If HYBE is hosting an event to showcase new artists, that means they're looking. That means there's an opportunity. He just has to figure out how to get ENHYPEN in front of them. You had said something about a meeting with HYBE's events team, which means you're involved somehow, probably with the event planning company. Jungwon pulls out his phone and types out a text to the group chat.
[jungwon:] emergency practice tonight smth came up and i have an idea
[jay:] Is it a good idea or a Jungwon idea?
[jungwon:] does it matter baka
[heeseung:] kinda but yeah
[jake:] i'm in but if i lose 20 bucks again ur dead
[jungwon:] dude i already told u ill pay u back damn
[sunghoon:] Do I have a choice?
[jungwon:] no
[sunghoon:] Then I'm in I guess
He'd gone home that day and done what he does best: research. He found out everything he could about HYBE's event. The date, two weeks away now. The location — some gallery in Midtown with a name he couldn't pronounce. The purpose — networking and showcasing new talent. And most importantly, the person in charge of casting decisions: Yoon Jeonghan, HYBE's A&R director. So the plan is: Get a demo to Jeonghan, get ENHYPEN noticed. Simple. Except nothing in Jungwon's life is ever simple.
The band spent the last two weeks practicing like their lives depended on it because maybe they did. They ran through their setlist so many times that the bowling alley's owner asked if they were training for Coachella. Jungwon recorded sample tracks; three of their best songs, mixed and mastered as well as he could manage with the equipment they had. He burned them onto a CD, wrote "ENHYPEN" in his neatest handwriting on the disc, and put it in a case that didn't look too cheap.
Now he just needed to get it into Jeonghan's hands. The masquerade ball was invitation only. Black tie. Three hundred of the most important people in the music industry. Security would be tight and Jungwon needed a way in. His first thought was to show up in a suit and try to blend in with the guests, but that plan died when he pulled his only decent suit out of the closet and found a cigarette burn hole right on the lapel. He still doesn't know how that happened, he doesn't even smoke. So the suit was out.
Plan B: get in as staff. Catering companies always needed extra help for big events, and Jungwon had waited tables before. He found the company handling the HYBE event; some place called Élite Affairs and called asking about a day of work. They were desperate and they hired him over the phone. The mask was easier. He found a plain black one at a costume shop for fifteen dollars, it wasn't fancy but it would do. The catering uniform would cover most of him anyway. Everything was set: three days from now he'd walk into that gallery as a waiter, find Yoon Jeonghan, and hand him the CD. Maybe strike up a conversation, maybe get the guy to actually listen to ENHYPEN's music. It wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan. And right now, that was more than Jungwon usually had.
And for you, the last two weeks have been perfect. The invitations went out on time, HYBE's events team approved the design immediately with no revisions needed. The decor came together exactly as you had envisioned. The gallery place looked like something out of a drama, and Yunjin locked down the entertainment, a string quartet for the beginning of the night, a DJ for later and live performances from three of HYBE's upcoming artists. Riki organized the seating chart without a single complaint from any of the guests, which might be the the most impressive accomplishment of all. Sunoo coordinated with the catering company, and you did a tasting last week, needless to say everything was perfect. Director Kim stopped by your desk yesterday and said, "I don't know how you do it, but keep doing it." And you'd just smiled, because this was what you do. Things work out, they always have.
Saturday arrives with not a single cloud in the sky, which surprises absolutely no one who knows you. You were up at seven, even though the event doesn't start until seven pm. You make coffee, go over the timeline one more time and confirm with the team via group text that everyone's on schedule.
Your dress had been a last minute find, you'd gone shopping three days ago, fully expecting to spend hours searching and found it in the first store. Black, floor length with delicate beading along the neckline that catches the light when you move. It fits perfectly with no alterations needed. And the mask was even easier, you'd walked past a boutique on your way home from work yesterday and saw it in the window: black lace with gold accents and which matched your dress perfectly.
Meanwhile, Jungwon wakes up at noon in a cold sweat from a nightmare where he tripped and spilled an entire tray of champagne on Yoon Jeonghan. He lies there for a moment, staring at the water stain on his ceiling and thinks: Don't. Mess. This. Up. Please, for once in your life.
The catering uniform is hanging on the back of his door, they'd given it to him yesterday during the brief orientation, and it's slightly too big but he'd expected that. He tried on last night to make sure nothing was egregiously wrong. The shirt had a small stain on the cuff but he could scrub it out, probably. The mask sits on his dresser plain black and simple and forgettable, perfect for blending in. He showers and shaves and tries to make himself look presentable. His hair won't cooperate though, which is standard. He gives up after ten minutes and just runs his hands through it.
The CD is in a thin envelope on his desk. He'd checked it approximately fifty times to make sure it actually works and it does; all three tracks, clear audio, no skips. He slips it into the inside pocket of his vest. And by three pm, he's dressed and standing in front of his bathroom mirror, giving himself a pep talk. "You're going to walk in, do your job, find Jeonghan and give him the CD. Have a normal, pleasant and professional conversation with him. Don't spill anything, don't break anything. Don't. Mess. This. Up."
You arrive at four for the final walkthrough, and even though you've seen the space decorated before, it still takes your breath away. Sunoo walks over, adjusting his tie. "Catering's almost done setting up. They brought extra staff, so we're covered if it gets busy."
"Guest check in?"
"Ready. Riki's handling the mask distribution for anyone who forgets theirs."
You exhale. "Okay. Okay, we're ready."
Director Kim — Chaewon, she'd insisted last week ("We're friends, please, call me Chaewon") appears in a stunning black gown with her mask already in place. "This is beautiful," she says, surveying the room. "You've outdone yourself. Enjoy tonight. You've earned it."
Jungwon arrives at the gallery at 4:50 PM, which he considers a miracle. The catering manager briefs the staff in the gallery's kitchen. "This is a high profile event," she says, pacing in front of them. "HYBE's reputation is on the line, which means ours is too. You will be polite, efficient and invisible. If a guest needs something, you get it. If something goes wrong you find me. Do not — I repeat, do not — draw attention to yourselves." Jungwon nods along with everyone else. "Masks stay on at all times while you're in the event space. You'll be serving passed appetizers during the cocktail hour, then transitioning to table service for dinner. Questions?" No one has questions. "Good, masks on. Let's go."
They assign him to pass champagne during cocktail hour. Jungwon adjusts his mask and follows the group into the main gallery. And okay, he has to admit it looks incredible. By seven PM, the gallery is already full. You're standing near the entrance with Chaewon, greeting guests as they arrive. HYBE's executives arrived twenty minutes ago, you recognize a few faces from meetings, though the masks make it harder. Sunoo appears, grinning. "Okay, I have to show you something, come on." He leads you toward the back corner of the gallery, where a small booth has been set up. There's a sign: Madame Clarrisse - Fortune Teller. "HYBE requested this last minute," Sunoo explains. "Apparently one of their executives is really into this stuff. She's been reading palms for the last half hour."
You peer into the booth. A woman in an eleborate purple gown and a jeweled mask sits at a small table, holding a guest's hand. "You want to get your fortune read?"Sunoo asks.
"Why not? Could be fun."
"You already know your fortune, bitch. You're lucky as fuck." Sunoo says with a grin, teasing you, and you laugh along with him.
You wait until the current guest finishes, then slip into the chair across from Madame Clarisse. She's older, maybe sixties. "Give me your hand, dear," she says. You extend your right hand, and she takes it, turning it over, tracing the lines on your palm with one finger and her expression shift. "Interesting," she murmurs. "Your luck line is very strong, remarkably so." She pauses, studying it closer. "But there's a break here, right at the end."
"Right. Thanks." You pull your hand back, still smiling.
You and Sunoo walk away, and he is still laughing. "That was the worst fortune telling I've ever seen. 'Your luck is ending.' What kind of scam is that? The fuck does she want you to do?"
"At least she committed to the bit."
"She's probably telling everyone the same thing, so you can come back or whatever and give her more money." You sip your champagne and scan the room. Everything is perfect — guests are mingling, the music is beautiful and the food is being served. Your luck isn't going anywhere.
Jungwon has been circling the gallery for forty minutes and he still hasn't found Jeonghan. He's served champagne to at least sixty people. He's narrowly avoided colliding with another waiter twice. He's successfully kept his tray balanced despite someone bumping into him. So far, nothing terrible has happened, which is almost suspicious.
He's starting to think Jeonghan isn't there when he finally spots him near the bar, talking to a girl in a black dress and lace mask and Jungwon's heart jumps. That's him, that's definitely him. Jungwon's seen enough photos to recognize him even with the mask. So he moves closer, trying to look casual, waiting for an opening. You laugh at something Jeonghan says, you're gesturing animatedly, clearly comfortable. Jungwon wonders if you're someone important or just a guest. After a few minutes, Jeonghan excuses himself and walks toward the restrooms. This is Jungwon's chance. But he needs a better approach than just ambushing the guy in a hallway. He needs context and information.
You're still standing by the bar, alone now, watching the room with the satisfied feeling of seeing everything go exactly according to plan. Then, Jungwon makes a decision. He walks over, tray balanced in one hand, and stops just close enough that you notice him. "Champagne?"
You turn, and there's something about the way he's looking at you, even through the mask. You can see his smiling, but not the polite server smile, almost a grin, more genuine, maybe. "Sure, thank you."
You take the glass and your fingers brush his for a second, and he should walk away now. That's what waiters do, right? Serve and move on. Instead, he stays. "You seem like you're having a good time."
There's a lightness to his voice, almost playful, and you find yourself smiling back. "I am. It's a beautiful event."
"Yeah, it really is." He glances around the room and then back at you. "Someone clearly knows what they're doing."
You smile at that. "Thank you," you say, taking a sip.
His eyebrows raise slightly behind the mask. "So you're the one running this whole thing?"
"Not alone, obviously. But I'm helping, yeah."
"That's impressive." He leans in just a little, enough that you catch a hint of cologne. "Must've been a lot of work."
"It was. But it's worth it when everything comes together like this." You tilt your head studying him. "What about you? You're not supposed to be chatting with guests, are you?"
He grins, and it's disarming. "Probably not. But you looked interesting."
"Interesting?"
"Friendly," he corrects quickly. "You looked friendly."
"Friendly. Right." You take a sip of champagne, hiding your smile. "That's one way to put it."
There's something easy about him. The way he stands there, relaxed but also attentive, like he's got nowhere else to be even though you both know he does. You're not sure why you're still talking to him, but you don't exactly want to stop. "So do you work for HYBE?" he asks, like he's genuinely curious.
"No. I'm with the event company. We're the ones who put all this together."
"Ah." He nods and you swear you see something shift in his expression — relief, maybe? Interest? "That explains the whole 'owning the place' vibe."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Definitely a compliment."
You laugh again, and he seems pleased by that. "What about you? Do you usually work at events like this or is this a one time thing?"
"Sometimes," he says a little too casually. "It's good money. Plus, you know, I get to see how the other half lives." He glances down at his tray and then back at you. "Though I have to say, this is probably the nicest one I've ever worked."
"Well, we tried."
"You succeeded."
There's a beat of silence, and you realize you've been looking at him for longer than it's probably normal. Even with the mask covering half of his face, there's something about him. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the easy confidence in the way he talks. He seems to realize it too because he straightens up slightly. "Well, I should probably get back to work before my boss notices I've been standing here flirting with a guest."
The word hangs in the air. Flirting. "Is that what you're doing?" you ask, smirking, and your voice comes out more playful than you intended.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Maybe. Was it working?"
You bite back a smile. "I don't know, were you trying?"
"Not at first," he admits. "But now I kind of am."
You heart does something stupid in your chest, and you take another nervous sip of champagne to cover it. "Well, you should probably go before you get in trouble."
"Probably." But he doesn't move. "Thanks for letting me talk your ear off."
"Anytime."
He takes a step back and then pauses. "What's your name?"
You hesitate. There's something fun about the anonymity of the masks, the idea that you're both strangers at a party. "Does it matter? We're all wearing masks."
He considers this and then grins. "Fair point — mystery makes it more interesting anyway."
"Exactly."
"So what do I call you then?"
"Hot and mysterious event planner?" you offer, smirking.
"I like it." He smirks back. "What about me?"
"Hmm…" You pretend to think about it. "Hot and mysterious waiter who's definitely breaking the rules right now?"
He laughs and it's genuine, the kind of laugh that makes you want to hear again. "That's a mouthful."
"You asked, though."
"I did." He's still smiling as he starts to back away. "Guess I'll see you around, hot and mysterious event planner."
"Maybe," you say. "If you're lucky."
Jungwon laughs at that. Well, he's never lucky, but maybe tonight's different. And then he's gone, slipping back into the crowd and you're left standing there with an empty champagne glass and the strangest feeling that you just met someone you weren't really supposed to. You don't even know his name, but you're smiling anyway.
An hour later, you've had three glasses of champagne, and the room has taken on a pleasantly soft glow. Everything is still going perfectly, the guests are happy, nobody's complained about anything. Chaewon even pulled you aside twenty minutes ago to tell you that HYBE's CEO personally complimented the event. You're riding high on success and champagne when Sunoo finds you near the dessert table. "Okay, so I've been thinking about that fortune teller," he says, already giggling. "What if your luck does run out tonight?"
"Then I guess I'll have to live like a normal person," you say, popping a chocolate covered strawberry into your mouth.
"Terrifying. Truly." He leans against the table, scanning the room. "Although, the way you're going, you'll probably find a sugar daddy at this party and never have to work again."
You snort. "Please. I want to be my own sugar daddy."
"Okay, boss. Independent woman. I respect it." He takes a sip of his drink. "But seriously, with your luck, you could probably kiss someone random tonight and they'd turn out to be the love of your life or something."
"Sunoo."
"I'm just saying! It's how your life works."
You roll your eyes. "You know me. I don't just go around kissing people."
"Maybe you should start. Live a little." He gestures broadly at the masked crowd. "Everyone's anonymous anyway. It's very romantic."
You're about to respond when you catch sight of Jungwon across the room. He's standing near one of the tall windows but he's not really working. He's just there, and the mask obscures most of his face but you'd recognize the way he stands anywhere. "Oh my god," you say. "You've seen that waiter? The one by the window."
Sunoo follows your gaze and nearly chokes on his drink. "Are you serious right now?"
"What?"
"You — of all the people at this party, all the rich executives and hot industry people — you're looking at a waiter?"
"He's cute!"
"He's working!"
"So? What's your point?" Sunoo stares at you like you've lost your mind. "My point is there are literal celebrities here, and you want to flirt with the helper," he says.
"Don't be snobby, Sunoo. It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not being snobby, I'm being logical." But he's grinning now. "Oh god. You have that look."
"What look?"
"The I'm about to do something impulsive look." Sunoo sets his glass down on the table. "Okay, this I have to see."
"See what?"
"You, flirting with a waiter at the most important event of your career."
You cross your arms. "I can flirt with whoever I want."
"I'm not saying you can't. I'm just saying it's very on brand for you to ignore everyone in favor of—"
"He seems nice and he's very charming."
"And you've talked to him for like, what? Five minutes?!"
"And?! So what! You've dated people you talked for less."
Sunoo gasps, hand over his chest. "Rude. But fair." He looks at the waiter again then back at you. " But you did say you don't just kiss random people."
"Maybe I'm feeling spontaneous tonight."
"Because of the fortune teller?"
"Because of the champagne."
Sunoo laughs. "Okay. Okay, I dare you to go over there and shoot your shot with the cute waiter, since you're so confident."
You look at him, then at the waiter, then back at Sunoo. "Fine."
"Wait, seriously?"
"You literally just dared me."
"I didn't think you'd actually—" But you're already walking away, and Sunoo's laughter follows you across the room. Meanwhile, Jungwon has given up on finding Yoon Jeonghan. Not permanently but just for the next ten minutes, because he's been nursing a cocktail he swiped from a tray, and the room is spinning just slightly, and honestly? He's tired of stressing. He's leaning against the window just watching the party, and somehow thinking about the girl in the black dress, you. He hasn't seen you in a while, which was probably for the best because he was supposed to be working and not flirting with guests who are way out of his league. And then, as if summoned by his thoughts, you appear in front of him. "Hi again."
Jungwon straightens up immediately. "Oh. Hey."
"You looked lonely over here."
"Did I?"
"A little." You're smiling, and there's something loser about you now, more relaxed. "What happened to working?"
"Taking a break," he says, and you notice the way his mouth curves, not quite a smirk but close.
"Good. Breaks are important."
You lean against the window next to him, close enough that your bare arm almost brushes his sleeve. Close enough to notice things you didn't before, like the way his dark hair falls just slightly into his eyes or the way his mask doesn't quite hide the sharp line of his jaw. "So. Hot and mysterious waiter."
"Hot and mysterious event planner," he counters, and now he's definitely smirking.
"Are you having fun?"
"More fun than I expected," he admits, and his eyes — god, his eyes are so focused on you it makes your stomach flip. "You?"
"It's been a good night." You tilt your head studying him openly now. "You know, I never got to ask — do you always flirt with guests, or am I special?"
He laughs, and it's lower than you expected. "Definitely not always. You're a special case."
"Special how?"
"I don't know yet." He shifts his weight, angling toward you. "Still figuring it out."
You bite your lip without thinking and you watch his gaze drop to your mouth for just a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. "Well, let me know when you do."
"I will."
The air between you feels different now, more charged. The masks aren't even hiding you from each other anymore, it's more like they're giving you permission. "Can I ask you something?" You ask.
"Sure."
"Why did you come over to talk to me earlier? Really."
He considers for a moment and you notice the way he runs his tongue briefly over his bottom lip, a tell that he's thinking. "Because you looked interesting. And I wanted an excuse to talk to you."
"That's it?"
"That's it." He shifts closer. "Is that okay?"
"It's more than okay." You're looking at him, really looking, trying to memorize the details the mask doesn't hide.
"You know what," his voice drops a little lower. "You don't seem like someone who spends all their time planning fancy parties."
"What do I seem like, then?"
He takes his time answering, and his eyes moving over your face like he's reading you. You notice things about him too like the way he's tall enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to hold his gaze or the way his shoulders are broader than you initially thought. "Like someone I'd want to know," he says finally. "If we weren't both wearing masks at a party where we were both supposed to be working."
Your smile widens, and your heart is doing something stupid in your chest. "That's a good answer."
"Thanks. I try."
"Do you, though?"
"Not usually, no." He grins and it's devastating. "Tonight's an exception."
You laugh, because there's something about him that makes you want to be bold, want to push boundaries you normally wouldn't. "Okay, you're trouble," you say, but it comes out almost affectionate.
"Me?" He raises an eyebrow. "You're the one who came over here, love."
The petname makes you shiver. "Fair point."
You're standing even closer now. You're not sure when that happened but there's barely any space left between you. You can feel your pulse in your throat and you're aware of everything — the warmth of his body, the way he's looking at you. You should step back, you should remember that you're at the most important event of your career, that he's working, and that you don't even know his name. But you don't want to. Instead, you say, "What if I told you," and you take a step closer, "that I'm not very good at making decisions?"
His lips curve into a smile. "Then I'd say that's hard to believe."
"Why?"
"Because you seem like someone who knows exactly what she wants."
Your heart skips. "Do I?"
"Yeah." He reaches up, and his fingers brush a strand of hair away from your face. "You do."
The contact sends a shiver through you. His hand lingers near your cheek and you can't tell if he's being deliberate or if he's just as caught up in this as you are. "And what if," you breathe, "what I want is a bad idea?"
"Then maybe," he says and his thumb grazing your jaw now, "you should stop thinking so much."
"Is that your professional advice?"
"Definitely not professional." His eyes are locked on yours. "Nothing about this is professional."
"No," you agree. "It's really not."
The space between you has narrowed to almost nothing. You can feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rises and falls just a little faster than normal. His hand is still at your face, and yours has somehow found its way to his chest, your fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his vest. His eyes search yours for a long moment, and then, "Come here," he murmurs.
You close the distance. The kiss starts soft, like he's giving you a chance to change your mind. His lips are warm and gentle against yours, his hand cradling your face. But then you press closer, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and something shifts. He makes a sound low in his throat and the gentleness evaporates. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and his mouth moves against yours with an urgency that steals your breath.
And oh god, he can kiss. It's all consuming, like the way his tongue traces the seam of your mouth before slipping inside. He tastes like champagne, even though he probably shouldn't be drinking during work hours and that somehow makes him even hotter. His hand tightens at your waist while the other cups your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss even further. You press closer, and he responds immediately, his fingers sliding into your hair, careful not to dislodge your mask but possessive. You feel something shift inside you — something fundamental and terrifying and exhilarating, like a lock clicking into place. It feels like the ground beneath your feet just tilted, and it feels significant in a way you can't explain. Like the before and after of your life just split into two distinct halves, and this moment, this kiss, this person is the dividing line.
When you finally break apart it's only because you need air. His forehead rests against yours, and you're both breathing hard, your fingers still tangled in his hair, his hands still holding tight. "Jesus," he breathes.
You laugh, breathless. "Yeah."
"That was—"
"I know."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and even through the mask you can see the way his pupils are blown wide and his lips are slightly swollen from kissing you. He looks wrecked in the best way. His thumb traces your bottom lip. "We should probably—" You don't finish the sentence because you don't actually know what you should do. Stop? Keep going? Pretend this didn't feel like it just shifted something fundamental in your universe?
"Yeah," he agrees, even though neither of you moves.
You're still pressed against each other, his hand still in your hair, yours still on his chest. "This is crazy," you say. "I just kissed a waiter at my own event."
"I just kissed a guest when I'm supposed to be working." He grins. "Should we stop?"
You consider this for approximately half a second. "No."
"Good answer, love." He's leaning in again, his hand coming back up to cup your face, and you're already closing your eyes when you hear a loud crash. The kind of sound that makes an entire party go silent, and you both freeze. "What was that?" he asks.
You turn toward the main floor and your stomach drops. Director Kim, Chaewon, is standing in the middle of the dance floor, her mask askew, pointing an accusatory finger at a woman in a red dress. The woman is pointing right back and even from here you can tell they're both several drinks past professional. "Oh no," you breathe. "My boss. Oh my god."
Chaewon's voice carries across the gallery. "You have some NERVE showing up here!"
The woman in red gets right in her face. "I was INVITED!"
"By WHO?" Security is already moving toward them, and you're moving too, I mean you're already running or trying to, in heels and a floor length dress. You reach the stairs leading down to the main floor and you're halfway down when your heel catches on the hem of your dress. The snap is audible. Your shoe — your perfect, expensive, matched to the dress shoe — breaks clean off. You stumble, barely catching yourself on the railing, and hobble the rest of the way down with one heel and one bare foot.
By the time you reach the dance floor, Chaewon has grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and looks like she's considering throwing it. "Chaewon," you say, breathless, trying to step between them. "Hey. Let's just—"
"She's sleeping with my husband!" the woman in red shrieks.
The entire gallery is watching now. All three hundred guests. HYBE executives. Press. Everyone. "I am NOT —" Chaewon starts.
"You absolutely ARE—"
A security guard finally reaches them, gently but firmly taking Chaewon by the arm. "Don't touch me!" She yanks her arm away and nearly loses her balance. Her mask falls off completely, and you try again. "Chaewon, please, let's just go outside and—"
"Where were you?" Chaewon whirls on you and her eyes are unfocused. "You're supposed to be MANAGING this event!"
"I was — I am—"
"Mrs. Choi was NOT supposed to be on the guest list!" She gestures wildly at the woman in red. "I specifically told you to make sure her name wasn't on there!"
Your blood runs cold. "What?"
"I sent you an email! Two weeks ago!"
You remember it now, an email buried in your inbox, unread, flagged as low priority by your email filter: Please remove Mrs. Choi from the final guest list. Personal reasons. "I didn't see it," you whisper.
"You DIDN'T SEE IT?" Chaewon's voice echoes. "This is YOUR job! This whole night was YOUR responsibility, and you —" Mrs. Choi interrupts, her voice icy. "My husband is Director Choi from HYBE. And I will be making sure he knows exactly how this event was run."
Your stomach plummets to your feet. The head of security appears. "I'm going to have to ask both of you to leave."
"This is ridiculous," Chaewon slurs but she's already being guided toward the door. You follow with one shoe on, one shoe off, your dress torn at the hem, your mask crooked, and your entire career presumably in ruins. He escorts you and Chaewon out through the main entrance and the cool night air hits you. "This is your fault," Chaewon says. "This whole thing is your fault."
"I didn't see the email —"
"That's not an excuse! You were supposed to be on top of everything!" She laughs bitterly. "God, I actually thought you were good at this. Director Han kept saying you were so lucky, so perfect, nothing ever goes wrong for you —"
"Chaewon—"
"Director Kim. Well, congratulations. Something finally went wrong." She flags down a taxi and stumbles into it, and disappears into the night without another word. You stand there on the sidewalk, your dress ruined, your career probably over, and you think about the fortune teller: Your luck is about to run out. Maybe she wasn't kidding after all.
Inside, Jungwon watches the whole thing unfold with a mixture of horror and disbelief. He should find you and make sure you're okay, do something. But then he sees Yoon Jeonghan, walking toward the exit with his phone pressed to his ear, looking slightly irritated. This is it. This is Jungwon's chance. He hesitates for only a second — thinking about you, about the kiss, about how wrong it feels to just let you leave like that — but then reality crashes back in. He came here for a reason. He has a band counting on him, he has a CD in his pocket that represents two years of work. He can find you later, maybe, somehow.
Jungwon follows Jeonghan, keeping enough distance to not look suspicious. Jeonghan stops at the curb still on his phone, waiting for his car. Jungwon's hand goes to his pocket, feeling for the CD. He takes a step forward and a car comes around the corner fast and Jeonghan, distracted by his phone call, steps off the curb without looking. Jungwon doesn't think, he just lunges forward, grabbing Jeonghan's arm and yanking him back onto the sidewalk. The car blares past, missing them by inches. Jeonghan drops his phone. "What the—"
"You almost got hit," Jungwon says, breathing hard.
Jeonghan stares at him, then at the street, then back at him. "I — you just—"
"You weren't looking."
"I wasn't—" Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, visibly shaken. "Jesus. Thank you. That car would've—" They stand there for a moment, both processing what almost happened. Jeonghan bends down to pick up his phone, miraculously uncracked, and looks at Jungwon properly for the first time. "You work for the catering company?"
"Uh, yeah. Tonight, anyway."
"Well, you just saved my life, so." Jeonghan laughs shaky. "Thank you. Seriously."
"No problem."
Jeonghan's car pulls up and he opens the door, then pauses. "What's your name?"
"Jungwon. Yang Jungwon."
"Well, Jungwon. I owe you one." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a business card. "If you ever need anything, just call me."
Jungwon takes the card and his heart is pounding. "Actually," he says, pulling the CD from his pocket before he can lose his nerve, "I have something. If you have a second."
Jeonghan looks at the CD then at Jungwon, curious. "What is it?"
"A demo. For my band. It's called ENHYPEN. I'm their manager, and they're — they're really good, and I know everyone says that, but they are. They've been trying to get signed for two years, and I just —" He takes a breath. "I just want someone to listen. That's all."
Jeonghan studies him for a long moment and then takes the CD. "You just saved my life," he says. "The least I can do is listen to your band."
"Really?"
"Really." Jeonghan slides into his car. "I'll call you next week. We'll talk." Jungwon stands on the sidewalk watching him leave, his business card in one hand, the ghost of the CD in the other, and he can't quite believe what just happened. He almost got Yoon Jeonghan killed. Then he saved Yoon Jeonghan's life. And now Yoon Jeonghan has his demo. He looks up at the night sky and thinks, for the first time in his entire life — maybe his luck is finally changing.
The week after the masquerade ball is, without exaggeration, the worst week of your life.
Monday morning, you're fired. Director Han doesn't even look at you when she says it. Just slides a severance packet across her desk and tells you that "given the circumstances," it's best if you "pursue other opportunities." The circumstances being: HYBE terminated their contract with the company. Effective immediately, no future projects, no referrals, nothing. All because Mrs. Choi told her husband what happened, and Director Choi told HYBE's CEO, and suddenly the company that organized the event where the director got publicly accused of having an affair is no longer a company HYBE wants to be associated with. Chaewon hasn't responded to any of your texts. You're pretty sure she's blocked your number.
Tuesday, you spill coffee all over yourself on the subway. Your white shirt is completely ruined, and you have a job interview in twenty minutes. You show up looking like a disaster. You don't get the job. Your landlord calls on wednesday. "I'm so sorry," He says, and he actually sounds sorry. "But the building's been sold. New owners want everyone out by the end of the week for renovations."
"End of the week? That's in two days!"
"I know. I'm really sorry. It's out of my hands."
You spend wednesday night frantically searching for apartments you can afford, which turns out to be zero apartments, because you no longer have a job and your savings are pathetic. Friday, you move into Sunoo's apartment with two suitcases and a dying plant you've somehow managed to keep alive for three years. "It's temporary," you tell him, setting your stuff down in his tiny living room.
"Stay as long as you need," Sunoo says. He's being incredibly nice about this, considering his apartment is barely big enough for one person. "The couch pulls out into a bed. Kind of."
You test it. It does not pull out into a bed, it pulls out into a medieval torture device. "It's perfect," you lie. Saturday, you go to three more job interviews and none of them go well. One of them ends with the interviewer asking if you're feeling okay because you "seem stressed." You are stressed. You're very stressed. Sunday, you're sitting on Sunoo's couch (your new bed) eating cereal and staring at nothing, when Sunoo comes out of his room. "Okay," he says. "I've been thinking. Remember the fortune teller? At the party?"
You look at him. "How could I forget."
"Yeah." Sunoo sits down next to you. "I think she was right."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"Like, everything went wrong in your life. Literally everything all at once in one week."
"I got it Sunoo. What's your point?"
"My point is what if she actually did something? Like what if it wasn't just a prediction? What if she cursed you or something?"
You stare at him. "Sunoo. She's a party entertainer, not a witch."
"You don't know that!"
"I'm pretty sure—"
"All I'm saying is, your entire life fell apart the night she touched your hand. That's suspicious."
You want to argue, but honestly? You're desperate enough to consider it. "Fine," you say. "I'll go find her and ask her to uncurse me. Happy?"
"Very." Sunoo grins. "See? This is why we're friends. You're willing to entertain my insane theories."
"I don't have a choice. My life is already upside down."
And across town, Jungwon is having the best week of his life. He finds twenty dollars in the pocket of a jacket on monday, a jacket he hasn't worn in months. Not life changing, but nice. Tuesday, he buys a lottery scratch off ticket on a whim and wins fifty bucks. The subway is delayed on wednesday, and he's annoyed until he realizes the delay meant he avoided a massive service outage on the line he would've transferred to. He would've been stuck underground for two hours but instead, he gets home early. Thursday, his landlord calls to say they're lowering rent for all tenants because of some tax credit thing Jungwon doesn't understand. Friday, his phone rings, an unknown number. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Yang Jungwon?"
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"Yoon Jeonghan. From HYBE. We met last weekend."
Jungwon's heart stops. "Oh. Yeah, Jeonghan! Hi."
"Listen, I listened to your demo. And I have to say — I'm impressed. Your band is really good."
Jungwon sits down before his knees give out. "Thank you. That — thank you."
"I'd like to bring you and the guys in for a studio session. See how you sound live, meet the team. Would next week work?"
"Yes. Absolutely, yes."
"Great. I'll have my assistant send over the details. Looking forward to it, Jungwon."
The studio session is scheduled for the following Thursday. Jungwon spends the days leading up to it in a state of controlled panic and the guys practice until the bowling alley owner threatens to charge them extra. But Thursday arrives and nothing goes wrong. Actually, everything goes perfectly. They arrive at HYBE's building with twenty minutes to spare and the studio is incredible, huge, with equipment that probably costs more than Jungwon's entire life.
They play three songs, their best three songs and they're perfect. Heeseung's vocals are flawless, Jake's guitar work is clean and emotional, Jay's bass anchors everything, Sunghoon's drumming is powerful. When they finish, there's a moment of silence and then Jeonghan starts actually clapping. "That is exactly what we've been looking for." The other executives are nodding, talking amongst themselves. Jeonghan turns to Jungwon. "Can we talk in my office?" Jungwon follows him down a hallway. Jeonghan's office is sleek with a view of the city. He gestures for Jungwon to sit. "I'm going to be direct," Jeonghan says. "We want to sign ENHYPEN. Full contract. Album deal, marketing budget, tour support. Everything."
Jungwon's brain short circuits. "You — what?"
"We think you guys have something special. You guys have potential, it's all there. We want to invest in it."
"How much are we talking?"
Jeonghan slides a paper across the desk. Jungwon looks at the number and nearly passes out. "That's just the signing bonus," Jeonghan says. "The full contract is much more comprehensive. But I think this is a partnership that could really work."
Jungwon stares at the number. It's more money than he's ever seen in his life. More money than he thought was possible. They say yes, obviously they say yes. The contract is signed the following week and the signing bonus hits their accounts two days later. Suddenly, Jungwon can pay rent for a year in advance. Suddenly, the guys can quit their day jobs. Suddenly, they're not a struggling band anymore. They're HYBE artists.
On Saturday night, they celebrate at the bowling alley, the place where it all started. They're loud and drunk and happy in a way Jungwon hasn't felt in years. "I can't believe this is real," Jake says, staring at his phone like he's checking his bank account for the hundredth time. Jungwon leans back in his chair, looking at his best friends, his band, and thinks about how one decision — one stupid, desperate decision to sneak into a party — changed everything.
On next Monday, you and Sunoo stand outside a shop in a part of town you've never been to before. The sign above the door says Madame Clarisse - Spiritual Advisor in peeling gold letters. There's a neon palm reader sign in the window that flickers every few seconds. The whole place looks like it hasn't been updated since the 90s. "This is humiliating," you say.
Sunoo pushes the door open and a bell chimes overhead. The interior smells like incense and there are crystals everywhere and velvet tablecloths. It's definitely mystical. Madame Clarisse emerges from behind a curtain. She's not wearing her party costume anymore — just regular clothes, jeans and a sweater, but she's still got the jewelry. Rings on every finger, about six necklaces. She takes one look at you and smiles. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
"You were?" You ask, surprised.
"Of course. You're the girl from the party. The one whose luck ran out." She gestures to a chair. "Sit." You do and Sunoo hovers behind you like moral support. "So," She says, settling into the chair across from you. "What can I do for you?"
"You can uncurse me."
"Un— I'm sorry, uncurse you?"
"Yes. Whatever you did to me at that party, I need you to undo it."
She laughs. It's not a polite laugh, it's the kind of laugh that says she thinks you're an idiot. "Sweetheart, I didn't curse you."
"Then why did you say my luck was running out?"
"Because it was. I read palms. I see things." She leans back, arms crossed. "You think I have the power to just take away someone's luck? That's not how it works."
"Then how does it work?"
She tilts her head, studying you. "You kissed someone that night, didn't you?"
Your face goes hot. "That's none of your—"
"You did. I can tell." She's smiling now. "That's what did it. You transferred your luck to the person you kissed."
Sunoo leans forward. "She what?"
"It's rare, but it happens. When someone with an extraordinary amount of luck kisses someone with an extraordinary amount of bad luck —" She makes a gesture like she's balancing scales. "The universe likes balance."
You stare at her. "You're telling me I kissed someone and gave them my luck and they gave me bad luck?"
"More or less. The person you kissed needed it more than you did. The universe decided to redistribute."
"The universe can't just —"
"The universe does what it wants. You had more than your fair share of good luck for your entire life. Someone else was drowning in bad luck. You kissed them, and it balanced out. Simple. But this is just temporary."
"Temporary?"
"Well. Probably." She waves a hand. "Unless you want your luck back. Then you'd have to kiss them again."
You stand there, staring at this woman in her crystal covered shop, and your brain is trying to process what she just told you. That you kissed someone and that the kiss stole your luck. That the universe decided you'd had enough good fortune for one lifetime and redistributed it to some random person at a party. Your eye twitches. "So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "I have to find someone I kissed at a masquerade ball — where everyone was masked — and kiss them again."
"If you want your luck back."
"And if I don't find them?"
Madame Clarisse shrugs. "Then you live like a normal person. It's not the end of the world."
"My landlord kicked me out. I got fired. I—"
"Yes, yes, very tragic." She's still smiling. "But you're young, healthy, and you have a friend who clearly cares about you." She nods at Sunoo. "You'll survive."
You want to argue, but the words get stuck somewhere in your throat. Instead, you just stand there making a noise that's half laugh, half scream. Sunoo puts a hand on your shoulder. "Okay. We're leaving now. Thank you for your time."
"Anytime," Madame Clarisse calls after you as Sunoo guides you toward the door. "And really — good luck!"
The door slams behind you. Outside, rain is coming down in sheets, soaking through your clothes in seconds. You and Sunoo are standing under a tiny awning that's doing absolutely nothing to keep you dry. "I'm going to kill her," you say.
"She's a fortune teller. She probably saw that coming."
"Sunoo."
"Sorry." He's already scrolling through his phone, squinting at the screen. "Okay. Okay, I'm texting Riki right now. He can get us the staff list from the catering company."
You turn to look at him. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Sunoo, I am not — I'm not going to just —" You gesture wildly, and a car drives by too close to the curb, sending up a spray of water that drenches your legs. "Oh, come ON!" Sunoo jumps back just in time, completely dry. You stare down at your jeans, now soaked and clinging to your shins and something inside you snaps. "This is what I'm talking about!" you shout, throwing your hands up. "This is my life now! I get hit by puddles! My phone is in a storm drain! I'm living on a couch!"
"I know—"
"No, you don't know! You still have your job! Your apartment! Your normal, boring, non cursed life!"
"You're not cursed —"
"I kissed someone and lost my luck, Sunoo! That's a curse!"
He's quiet for a second, and then he says, very calmly, "So let's find him."
"Find him?"
"Yeah. The guy you kissed. We find him, you kiss him again, problem solved."
You laugh and it comes out a little unhinged. "Oh, sure. Let me just — let me just go through the entire city kissing every man who worked that event until one of them magically gives me my luck back. Great plan."
"Do you have a better one?"
"I—" You stop, open your mouth then close it because he's right and you hate it. Your life is a disaster, everything you touch breaks. You have no job, no apartment, no luck. And somewhere out there, some guy you kissed at a party is probably living his best life with your good fortune. "Fine," you say through gritted teeth. "Get the list."
He's already typing on his phone, texting Riki, pulling up something that looks like an event database. You stand there in the pouring rain soaked to the bone, watching him work, and you think about that guy. Like the way he smiled and the way he kissed you. You don't even know his name, but apparently, he has everything you used to have. And you're going to get it back.
And Jungwon was living like a king with the amount of luck you gave him. He moved out of his cramped studio apartment into a real place with two bedrooms and actual sunlight, a kitchen where he could fit more than one person at a time. The landlord had called him personally to offer a unit that just became available, said something about how Jungwon seemed like "good energy." He signed the lease the same day.
And now he has a driver, an actual driver who picks him up every morning and takes him to HYBE. Jungwon still isn't used to it, he sits in the back of the car and feels like he's playing pretend. The guys are living their dream, though. They're in a real studio now, not the bowling alley storage room, but an actual professional space with soundproofing and expensive equipment. Jake bought new guitars, plural. Heeseung got vocal coaching from someone who's worked with actual famous people. Sunghoon upgraded his drum kit and nearly cried when it was delivered. Jay keeps texting photos of expensive bass pedals to the group chat like a kid in a candy store. Everything is working out.
Jungwon knows it's the luck, he's not stupid. Things don't just fall into place like this. Not for him, not naturally. But he doesn't take it for granted. He remembers what it was like before, when every single thing was going wrong at the worst possible moment. He remembers being tired all the time, not from work, but from fighting against the universe. So yeah, he's grateful. He tips the driver well, he brings coffee for the studio staff. He says thank you for things people don't usually say thank you for. And he actually thinks about you sometimes. He wonders if you're okay. And, well, you are not okay.
The list Riki got from the catering company has forty three names on it. Forty three men who worked the HYBE event that night. You've been through twelve of them so far. The first guy you eliminated immediately because his Instagram showed he was engaged. The second one was eliminated because he posted a photo from that night and you could see his hands and they were different. You don't know how you remember his hands, but you do. The third guy you actually went on a date with. He seemed nice enough over text, and when you met him at a cafe, he was polite, average looking, completely fine. You kissed him in the parking lot after. Just went for it, quick and experimental. But, nothing. You pulled the scratch off lottery ticket from your purse — one of ten you bought specifically for this purpose — and scratched it right there under a streetlight while he watched confused. You obviously lost. "Thanks," you'd said, already walking away. "This was great."
"Wait, are we—"
"Nope!"
The eighth guy was easier to eliminate. He posted a photo of himself and the mask he wore that night was completely different. The eleventh guy also agreed to meet you for drinks. You kissed him outside the bar and then scratched a ticket, nothing again. By guy number twenty, Sunoo started coming with you for moral support. "This is the saddest thing I've ever witnessed," he said, watching you scratch another losing ticket outside a restaurant.
Forty three names. You went through all forty three names on that list. Not all of them required dates — some you could eliminate from their social media alone, others from a quick coffee meetup where you could tell within five minutes it wasn't him. But you were thorough. Methodical, even. You checked every single person who worked that event and cross referenced their schedules and their photos or the way they carried themselves. You kissed enough of them to feel ridiculous, scratched enough lottery tickets to fund someone's gambling addiction, and came up with absolutely nothing. None of them were him.
By the time you crossed off the last name, you were sitting on Sunoo's couch at two in the morning and staring at the list. Your phone was on three percent battery — you'd forgotten to charge it, naturally — and your back hurt from the terrible angle of the pull out bed that wasn't actually a bed. You'd checked everyone, like literally every single person who worked that party and the waiter you kissed wasn't on the list. Which meant either the catering company's records were incomplete, or he wasn't actually staff, or the universe was playing some kind of cosmic joke on you that you didn't have the energy to appreciate. Which, to be fair, it kind of was.
The next day, you end up at the cafe near your old office without really planning to. It's a Wednesday afternoon, and you're unemployed so technically you could go anywhere, but your feet just carried you here out of habit. The place where you used to grab coffee every morning before work, back when your life made sense. And well, getting there is its own disaster because the subway stopped between stations for fifteen minutes because of "signal problems," and when you finally got off, it started drizzling, not enough to justify an umbrella, just enough to make your hair frizz and your shirt stick to your skin. You stepped in a puddle that was deeper than it looked. A cyclist nearly hit you and yelled at you like it was your fault. By the time you push open the cafe door, you're already exhausted and it's only two PM. The place is busy and there's a line at the counter, and you join it, and you pull out your card and tap it against the reader. Declined. You stare at the screen. "That's weird. Can I try again?"
"Of course."
You try again. Declined again and your stomach sinks. You know you have money in your account, not a lot, but enough for a coffee. You checked this morning. "Um, hold on." You pull out your phone to check your bank app, but the wifi isn't connecting and your data is throttled because you haven't paid this month's phone bill yet. The barista is still smiling, but it's getting strained. There are people behind you in line. You can feel them staring.
"Do you have another card?" The barista asks gently.
"I — yeah, let me just—"
You're digging through your wallet which is a mess of receipts and lottery tickets just in case and old gift cards that probably don't have anything on them, when a voice behind you says, "I've got it."
You turn around. Jungwon is standing there, tall, dark hair pushed back from his face, wearing a nice jacket that looks expensive and he's smiling at you like this is the most normal thing in the world. "You don't have to—" you say.
"It's fine. Really." He's already holding out his card to the barista. "Just the coffee, right?"
"Yeah, but —"
"Consider it a good deed for the day." He taps his card and it goes through immediately, because of course it does.
The barista looks relieved. "Thanks. I'll have that right out."
You step aside to let him order and your face is burning. This is humiliating, because you used to be the person who got free coffee for being the thousandth customer. Now you're the person who can't afford a four dollar drink and needs a stranger to bail you out. He orders something and then moves to stand next to you while you both wait. "Thank you," you say, because you have to say something. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know. But you looked like you were having a rough day."
"Is it that obvious?" You smile, kind of embarrassed.
"Little bit." He's still smiling and it's such a cute apologetic smile. "I'm Jungwon, by the way."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."
There's a pause, and you should probably just take your coffee and leave when it's ready, but something about him makes you stay. Maybe it's the way he's looking at you — not like he's hitting on you but like he's actually seeing you. Or maybe it's just that he bought you coffee and it feels rude to run. "Do you come here a lot?" he asks.
"Yeah, erm — I used to. I worked nearby."
"Worked?"
"Past tense."
"Ah." He doesn't pry, which you appreciate. "Well, it's a good cafe. Best coffee in the area."
"Yeah, it is."
The barista calls out your order and you grab it, and this is the part where you should say thanks again and leave. But he's still standing there and there's something about the energy between you that feels familiar in a way you can't place. Like you've met before, but you know you haven't because you would remember. "Can I ask you something?" he says.
"Sure."
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
Your heart does a weird little skip. "I don't think so. Why?"
"I don't know. You just seem familiar." You study his face trying to figure out if this is a line or if he actually means it. His eyes are dark and focused, and there's a small mole on his neck that you notice because you're staring now, which is weird. The barista calls his order, and he grabs his latte, and you both stand there for another second, neither of you moving. "Well," he says finally. "I hope your day gets better."
"Thanks. And thanks for the coffee."
"Anytime." He heads toward the door and you watch him go, and there's something tugging at the back of your mind, something you can't quite name. You pull out your phone and check your bank account — finally connected to the cafe wifi — and you see the Spotify fee. Because apparently your card declined not because you didn't have money, but because the bank decided to process a charge from three days ago that you'd forgotten about, and it pushed you into the negative. You close your eyes and take a long sip of your coffee. Of course. Of course that's what happened.
That night, lying on Sunoo's terrible excuse for a pull out couch, you stare at the ceiling and think about him. There was something about him that felt familiar, like you'd seen him before or heard his voice somewhere, and your brain keeps trying to make connections that don't quite fit. For a second you wonder if he could've been the waiter from the party, but that doesn't make sense. The guy who bought you coffee today was wearing a jacket that probably cost more than your rent used to cost, and he had this air about him like someone who's doing well, someone whose credit card doesn't get declined at cafes. The waiter from the party was working a catering gig and picking up shifts for extra cash, they can't be the same person. It's just your brain trying to find patterns where there aren't any because you're desperate and tired and running out of options.
The next week is a special kind of terrible. You go to four job interviews, and each one is worse than the last. The first company looks at your resume amd sees that you were fired and the interview is over before it really starts. The second place seems promising until the hiring manager asks why you left your last position, and you have to lie and you watch their face change in real time from interested to we'll-call-you-but-we-won't. The third interview goes fine until you spill coffee on yourself in the waiting room and walk into the meeting with a massive brown stain on your white shirt. The fourth place doesn't even bother to reject you in person, just sends an automated email two hours later.
By Friday, you're done. You've applied to thirty two jobs in the past weeks and heard back from eleven and been interviewed by seven, received absolute zero offers. Your savings account is running on fumes and even though Sunoo has been amazing, but you can tell he's getting tired of you sleeping on his couch even if he won't say it. You leave another failed interview on friday afternoon — they said they would keep your resume on file which is corporate speak for never contact us again — and you're walking down the street trying to decide what to do next when the sky opens up. A full downpour drenches you in seconds, you pull out the umbrella you bought at a dollar store last week and pop it open, and immediately one of the spokes snaps and the whole thing inverts itself. You stand there holding your broke umbrella with the rain pouring down on you and you legitimately cannot remember the last time something went right in your life.
That's when a car pulls up next to the curb, a black expensive looking car, and the window rolls down. "Hey!" You look over, and it's him — Jungwon. "You need a ride?" he asks, and he's leaning over from the driver's seat, looking at you with a look that might be concern or amusement but you can't tell.
You should say no and tell him you're fine, that you don't need hhelp from a stranger, but you're really soaking wet and your umbrella is destroyed, you have absolutely nowhere else to go. So you don't even hesitate, you yank open the passenger door and collapse into the seat, pulling the door shut behind you. The interior of the car is warm and dry, unlike you. Jungwon is staring at you. "You just got in my car."
"You told me to get in your car."
"I know, but—" He laughs surprised. "You didn't even think about it. What if I was going to kidnap you or something?"
"Are you going to kidnap me?"
"No, but —" He's still staring at you like he can't quite figure you out, and then he shakes his head smiling. "You're either very trusting or having a really bad day."
"Definitely the second one."
"That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea." You wipe rain off your face with your sleeve which doesn't help because your sleeve is soaked too. "I got kicked out of my apartment — well, it's not my apartment, it's my friend's apartment, but he's out of town and I lost the spare key he gave me, so now I'm locked out. I tried calling him but he's not answering, probably because he's on a plane or something. I tried calling my mom but she's not picking up either. I had a job interview earlier that went terribly, and before that I applied to like six places and haven't heard back from any of them, and I'm starting to think I'm unemployable. And now it's pouring rain and my umbrella broke, obviously, because why wouldn't it, and I was just walking around trying to find a hotel that doesn't cost a hundred bucks a night because that's literally all I have left in my bank account." You take a breath. "So yeah. Bad day." Jungwon is quiet for a moment. His hand are still on the steering wheel and you realize you just unloaded your entire life story on a gay you've met once. "Sorry," you say. "That was a lot."
"No, it's—" He glances at you. "That's really rough. I'm sorry."
"It's fine. It's not your problem."
"Where were you headed?"
"I don't know. Nowhere. Anywhere. I was just walking."
He's quiet again and you can see him thinking, weighing something. "Okay, this is going to sound weird," he says finally. "But I have a guest room in my apartment. It's just sitting there, and you clearly need a place to stay, and —" He stops and runs a hand through his hair. "No pressure. Seriously. I know I'm basically a stranger. But the offer's there if you want it."
You turn to look at him properly. You can tell he is nervous because his grip on the steering wheel is a little too tight, and he's not quite meeting your eyes. "You're offering to let me stay at your apartment," you say slowly.
"Just for the night. Or however long you need. I don't know. I'm not trying to be creepy, I swear. It's just — you seem like you're having the worst day ever, and I have space, so." He shrugs. "If you want to find a hotel instead, that's totally fine. I can drop you off wherever."
You should say no. Every true crime documentary you've ever watched is screaming at you to say no. But there's something about the way he's looking at you, like a little genuine and a little awkward like if he is not sure he's overstepping it, and that makes you think he's not a serial killer at all. Or at least probably not. Either way, you don't have a better option. "Okay," you finally say.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay. Thank you very much, I hope you really don’t mind."
He blinks surprised. "You're sure?"
"Well I don't have anything to lose at this point. My life is already a disaster so… if you murder me at least I won't have to deal with being unemployed anymore."
He laughs, startled. "Okay, that's dark." He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb. "For the record, I'm not going to murder you."
"Good to know."
"I'm a musician, by the way. I manage a band. And we just signed with a label so I've been real busy with that, and the apartment I'm in now is way too big for just me, so the guest room is just sitting there empty." He's talking fast now like he's trying to justify the offer to himself as much as to you. "It has its own bathroom and everything so you'd have privacy."
"Oh, you manage a band?"
"Yeah, they're called ENHYPEN and we just signed with HYBE actually, you know? The label?"
Your stomach drops. "HYBE?"
"Yeah. You know them?"
"I — yeah, kinda." You don't know what to say. I mean, what were you supposed to say? Yes I've worked for them before and I got fired and now I'm banned from HYBE events for life?
"Oh, that's cool. Small world." He says.
"Yeah," you say faintly. "Small world." You're staring at the windshield now and watching the rain while your brain is trying to process this. Okay, so he works with HYBE, which means he wasn't working at the party as a waiter — he would've been there as industry or maybe not there at all. So Jungwon is definitely not the guy you kissed, which is good. That would've been too complicated. But there's still that nagging feeling of familiarity, sort of, like you've seen him before. Like there's something you're missing.
He pulls into an underground parking garage and parks in a spot marked with his unit number, and you follow him to the elevator and up to his floor, and the whole time you're expecting this to be a terrible decision. But when he unlocks the door and lets you in, his apartment is just normal. Obviously very nice, but normal, it looks like someone actually lives here. There are shoes by the door and a jacket thrown over the back of a chair, and a coffee mug on the counter. "Guest room is this way," he says as he leads you down a short hallway. Jungwon opens a door to reveal a small bedroom with a double bed, a dresser and window overlooking the street. "Bathroom's through there, there should be towels and stuff. Help yourself to whatever you need."
"Thank you," you say and you mean it. "Seriously, this is — thank you."
"It's no problem, really." He lingers in the doorway for a second. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything, okay? And, uh, just so you know — I'm not going to like, bother you or anything. You can lock the door if you want."
"Okay."
"Okay." He smiles, a little awkward. "Well. Goodnight, I guess."
"Goodnight, Jungwon." You smile, fondly and grateful. He closes the door then, and you can hear his footsteps retreating down the hall. You stand there in the middle of the room, basically dripping water onto the floor, thinking about how bizarre your life has become. A month ago you were at the top of your game and running a high profile event and everything was going perfectly. Now? Now you're staying in a stranger's apartment because you literally have nowhere else to go. So you peel off your wet clothes, find a towel in the bathroom and take the hottest shower you've had in weeks. When you get out, wrapped in a towel, you realize you don't have any clothes to change into — everything you own is locked in Sunoo's apartment.
You hear a knock on the door. "I left some clothes outside the door," Jungwon's voice comes through. "In case you need them. They'll probably be big but I swear they're clean."
So you open the door a crack, and there's a folded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants sitting on the floor. "Thank you!" you call out.
"No problem." He calls back.
You change into his clothes — he's right, they're huge on you — and you climb into the bed, which is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in a month. You just lie there for minutes staring at the ceiling and trying to sleep. But your stomach is growling because you haven't eaten since this morning, and that was just a granola bar. You can smell something cooking from the living room. You could just stay there and avoid being awkward and try to sleep on an empty stomach — or, you could actually go out there and face the guy who's letting you stay in his apartment for free. So you get up and go out there. Jungwon is standing at the stove stirring something in a pan. He's changed out of his nice jacket into a hoodie and sweatpants. He looks comfortable, at ease. He glances over when he hears you come in. "Hey. Can't sleep?"
"Yeah, not really."
"Come in, I'm making fried rice. There's plenty if you need some."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, of course. Sit." He gestures to the small table near the kitchen. "It'll be ready in like two minutes."
So you sit and watch him cook. He moves around the kitchen with the kind of ease that suggests he does this a lot. He is tossing vegetables and rice in the pan, and adding sauce, adjusting the heat, and it smells incredible. "You cook a lot?" you ask.
"When I have time, yeah. It's cheaper than ordering out and I got used to it when I was broke." He grins over his shoulder. "You know, old habits."
"You were broke? Really?"
"Very broke actually. Like living off instant ramen and hoping the subway fare didn't go up kind of broke."
"What changed?"
"Well, lots of things, honestly." He plates the food and brings two bowls over to the table, sitting across from you. "And a lot of work, but mostly — luck, I think."
The word hangs in the air. Luck. You stare at your bowl of rice, your fork halfway to your moth and something twists in your chest. He said his life turned around recently because of luck — good luck that came out of nowhere. And yours fell apart at the exact same way. It's a coincidence, it has to be. You take a bite of rice and try to focus on the fact that it's delicious and not on the strange timing of everything.
When you look up, he's watching you with this easy smile and his chin was resting of his hand. You notice details you didn't catch before: like how his eyes are bigger than you realized, round and expressive in a way that makes him look younger than he probably is, and they have this slight upward tilt at the corned that reminds of you a cat. When he smiles, dimples appear, and there's something about the combination of his sharp jawline and soft features that's unfairly attractive. And well, you can't stop staring. Maybe being homeless and unemployed has made you forget how to act normal around people.
"So," he says breaking the silence. "What's your deal? Like before everything went wrong, what were you doing?"
"Uh — I was doing event stuff, you know? Planning and coordinating events, managing logistics. It was good, I mean I was good at it." You don't elaborate because you don't wanna talk about HYBE or the masquerade ball or how spectacularly everything fell apart. "What about you? How'd you get into managing a band?"
"I've known the guys for years. We all went to the same college and they were just messing around at first like playing at parties and open mics. But they were really good, and no one was taking them seriously so I just figured I'd help them out, you know? Book some shows and handle the boring stuff so they could focus on the music." He shrugs but there's pride in his voice. "And then it turned into a real thing, and we've been grinding for two years, like terrible — real terrible gigs and empty venues and labels telling me they're not marketable enough. It was rough."
"Well, but it seems that it worked out, right?"
"Eventually, yeah." He leans back in his chair and there's something vulnerable in the way he's looking at you now. "For a long time though I thought maybe we were just unlucky. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Like — I'd book a showcase and the venue would double book us. Or we'd record a demo and the file would corrupt. One time Sunghoon, our drummer, broke his wrist the day before a big audition because he went night rafting. Can you believe this guy? Yeah, anyways, it was like the universe didn't want us to succeed."
"That sounds awful, I'm sorry," you said even though you were smiling at how resilient he was.
"It was, but it also made us tougher, I think. Made us appreciate it more when things finally started working, you know?" He grins and there's that cute dimple again. "Although I'm not gonna lie it's nice not having to worry about whether my card's gonna decline every time I buy coffee." You laugh, but it's hollow because that's your life right now. He must notice because his expression softens. "Sorry, huh, that was — insensitive."
"No, really, it's fine. I'm glad things are working our for you." You smile at him because you mean it.
"They will for you too. I mean it." He says it with so much conviction that you almost believe him. "You seem like someone who's got their shit together, you know? Or had it together — you'll figure it out. I know it."
"You don't know that." You laugh small through your nose.
"Well, I have a good feeling." There's a pause and he's looking at you with this intensity that makes your stomach so something weird. You're very aware of the fact that you're sitting in his apartment and wearing his clothes and eating his food — and he's being so nice about all of it that it feels almost suspicious. Except it doesn't feel suspicious at all, it just feels genuine instead. "Why'd you get in my car though? Like you didn't even hesitate." He was being serious but he was also smiling, playfully even.
You think about it. "Honestly? I don't even know, I'm not usually like that, like I don't trust people that easily, is what I'm saying. But you seemed —" You pause, trying to find the right word. "Safe? I don't know. You just did."
"Safe," he repeats, something amused in his tone. "Well that's not usually the vibe I fo for but I'll take it."
"Really? What vibe do you usually go for?"
"Mhm, I don't know. Cool and mysterious?" Jungwon's grinning now, clearly joking. "Dangerously charming?"
"Dangerously charming?" You grin back.
"Too much?" You nod, but still smiling. "Okay, okay. I'll dial it back." But he doesn't, not really. There's this playful energy to him that feels effortless, like he's not trying to impress you but somehow he is anyway. "So," he says leaning forward slightly. "Since you're staying here, we should probably establish some ground rules."
"Oh! Ground rules?"
"Yeah, like, you can use the kitchen whenever. Help yourself to anything in the fridge — the wifi password is on a sticky note there, by the way. And if you need space, just let me know, okay? I won't be weird about it."
"Yeah, okay." You smile and nod.
"And —" He pauses, his smile turning a little softer. "If you need to talk or vent or whatever, I'm around. No judgment."
You laugh at that, but it's fondly. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
He doesn't answer right away. He just looks at you and there's something in his expression you can't quite read. "Because I've been where you are right now and I remember how much it sucked. And I wish someone had helped me out back then. So…" He shrugs. "Now I'm helping you."
You don't know what to say to that, because you're not used to people being king without expecting something in return and it's throwing you off balance. "Thank you, Jungwon. Really. I don't know what I would've done tonight if you hadn't shown up."
"Probably found a terrible hotel." You smile and he smiles back, and for a moment you just sit there, and it feels like the first good thing that's happened to you in weeks.
After dinner, Jungwon suggests watching TV and you both end up on the couch with a random cooking competition show playing in the background. He's leaning into the corner of the couch with one leg tucket under him, while you're on the other side holding a bowl of ice cream he gave you, and it's ridiculously domestic in a way that makes you feel both comfortable and slightly off kilter. He makes commentary about the contestant like "there's no way that souffle is going to hold, look at it," and you find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks.
The exhaustion hits you slowly though, and before you realize it, your head is tilting sideways and your eyes are getting heavier with each blink. The last thing you're aware of is the warmth of his shoulder under your cheek and the sound of his voice, but quieter now, saying something you don't quite catch.
The next morning you wake up in the guest bed. For a second you're disoriented, staring at the ceiling and trying to piece together how you got here. You sit up and realize you're tucked under the blanket, your phone plugged in on the nightstand, the screen showing it's fully charged. He must have carried you in here or woken you up and guided you, and either way he covered you with the blanket and made sure your phone was charging. The thoughtfulness of it makes you chest feel tight.
The smell of coffee drifts in from the kitchen so you get up, still waring his oversized shirt and sweatpants, and pad down the hallway. Jungwon's at the stove, flipping pancakes, and he's already dressed for the day with dark jeans and a sweater that looks soft but expensive, his hair styled in a way that suggests he actually tried this morning. He glances over when he hears you. "Morning. Sleep okay?"
"Yeah, really well actually." You lean against the doorway. "Did you carry me to bed?"
He stiffens. "You fell asleep on the couch and I didn't want to wake you up. I hope that's not weird." He says while he flips another pancake onto a plate.
"No, it's not — thank you."
"No problem." He sets the plate on the table along with a mug of coffee that's already poured. "I made pancakes. Wasn't sure if you were a breakfast person but I figured it was better safe than sorry."
You sat down, and the coffee is perfect and the pancakes are fluffy and golden. "You didn't have to do all this, Jungwon."
"I know but I wanted to." He leans against the counter with his own mug in hand, and he's watching you with that easy smile again. "I have to head out in a bit but make yourself at home, seriously. There's food in the fridge and the Tv remote is on the coffee table. And maybe text your friends? Let them know where you are. I don't want anyone thinking I kidnapped you."
You laugh. "Okay, yeah, I'll do that."
He finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the sink, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. As he passes behind you on his way to the door, he pauses, and you feel his hand on your shoulder — just a brief respectful squeeze, reassuring. "Good luck today, okay?" He says, his voice soft. "I mean it." And then he's gone and you're left sitting at his kitchen table with a plate of pancakes me made and the lingering warmth of his hand on your shoulder.
You wander around the apartment eventually. It's not spooning exactly, but more like observing. There are photos on the shelves in the living room, candid shots of Jungwon with four other guys who you assume are the band. They're laughing in most of them, arms slung around each other, and they're clearly close. You study Jungwon's face in the photos and he looks genuinely happy, in a way that makes you smile without meaning to.
Your phone buzzes and it's Sunoo. "Hey!" you answer.
"Oh my god you're alive. I tried calling you last night and you didn't answer and I thought you died in a ditch somewhere."
"I'm fine, I just — It's a long story." So you tell him everything about the rain, the broken umbrella and Jungwon pulling up in his car and offering you to stay at his apartment and everything you talked about. Sunoo is silent for most of it, which is unusual for him, and when you finish, there's a long pause. "So let me get this straight," he starts slowly. "A hot stranger offered you a place to stay, made you dinner, let you sleep in his room and then made you pancakes this morning?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure he's not a serial killer?"
"Pretty sure."
"Okay. Okay, this is insane. But also — wait. What's his name again?"
"Jungwon."
"And he works with HYBE?"
"Yeah. He manages a band."
There's another pause, and then Sunoo says very carefully, "Do you think he could be the guy you kissed?"
Your stomach flips. "What? No. He's a band manager. He wasn't working the party as a waiter."
"Because think about it — he said his luck changed recently, right? Around the same time yours went to shit. And he's being weirdly nice to you. And you said there was something familiar about him."
"Sunoo, that's insane."
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, the timing is very suspicious."
"No, he's not the waiter dude, he can't be. He has money and a nice apartment, he's managing a signed band. The waiter was working a catering gig, it doesn't even make any sense."
"Well, people can have two jobs."
You're quiet staring at the photos on the shelf. Jungwon smiling at the camera. Jungwon with his arm around one of his friends. Jungwon looking genuinely and effortlessly happy. "He's not the waiter," you say finally.
"Okay. If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Cool. But like —"
"Drop it Sunoo."
"Dropped." A pause. "Okay. But just so you know—" You hang up.
You meant to leave Jungwon's place that same day, you really did. The plan was simple: thank Jungwon for his hospitality and grab your things which was basically nothing, since everything you owned was locked in Sunoo's apartment, and find a hotel or a shelter, a bench, whatever. But then Jungwon came home that evening with takeout for two, and said "I figured you'd like it," in that casual way of his like it was obvious. So you stayed.
The next morning, he made coffee again and placed two cups without asking. You sat at his kitchen table in his clothes and it felt so easy that you almost forgot you were supposed to be leaving. Sunoo dropped your stuff on wednesday, what was left of it, anyway. And then you and Jungwon already had a routine by then. You'd wake up to the smell of coffee — he was always up before you and already dressed. You'd sit at the table scrolling through your phone while he ate standing up by the counter, checking messages, answering emails, muttering things like "Jake, please don't do that" into his phone without any context.
You felt guilty the first few days. You were literally a stranger living in his space and eating his food and taking up his bathroom. I mean, his guest bathroom, but still. But Jungwon didn't seem to mind at all, or if he did he just didn't care to say it. He just adjusted around you, making room for you, even. On Thursday, you tried bringing it up. "I should probably go back to Sunoo's," you said over dinner, he'd made pasta and it was somehow better than any pasta you'd ever had. "I don't want to impose."
He looked at you like you'd just said something genuinely confusing. "Why?"
"Because I'm living in your apartment? For free?"
"Yeah, and?"
"And that's weird and you don't really know me."
"Is it?" He twirled his fork. "I have an extra room. You needed a place, it's not that complicated."
"Jungwon —"
"Look, I get it. I'm saying I don't mind having a roommate. Specifically you." He pointed his fork at you. "You're quiet, you don't make a mess, and you actually watch good shows on TV. Those are the only three things I care about."
"Those are your criteria?"
"Yeah. High standards."
You laughed, he grinned, and that was the end of the conversation. So you stayed. But the bad luck didn't stop, obviously. Monday of the second week, you tried to cook breakfast while Jungwon was still in the shower. You burned the toast so badly that the smoke alarm went off, and it took you a few minutes trying to figure out how to turn it off, and by the time Jungwon came out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel and dripping water down his chest. You were standing on a chair waving a fish towel at the ceiling, and nothing happened.
"What happened?" he asked, his hair sticking up, and droplet sliding from his collarbone straight over the defined lines of his abdomen — eight perfect ridges, still glistening from the shower. Not that you were staring, anyway. (You were definitely staring.)
"I'm having toast problems." And that was all you managed to say.
He stared at the blackened bread on the counter, lips curving. "That's… a way to say it."
"Please don't laugh."
"I'm not laughing." Jungwon was absolutely laughing, low. He stepped closer and took the dish towel from your hand and reached up from the floor — didn't even need the chair, he was tall enough — fanning the alarm until it stopped. The movement made the towel slip just a dangerous inch lower on his hips and your eyes betrayed you again, dropping straight to the deep V line that disappeared beneath the fabric before you snapped them back up to his face.
But it was too late, because he noticed. "There you go," he murmured, his voice softer now like almost a tease, his eyes locked on yours for a beat too long.
Your face was burning, and you couldn't decide if you wanted to jump off the chair or melt into the floor. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He tilted his head. "I'll make breakfast, okay?" He made breakfast every morning after that. You didn't ask him to, he just did it.
Wednesday night, you were on the couch with your laptop pretending to look at job listings but actually watching Jungwon play guitar in the corner of the living room. He didn't know you were watching — he had his eyes closed and his head tilted back slightly, fingers sliding over the strings with this slow precision that made your throat go dry. The soft melody he was picking out wasn't anything you recognized; it was just intimate and unfiltered.
His shirt was loose, the collar slipping just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbone and the faint shadow of definition along his chest every time he shifted. His long fingers moved with precision in a way that had your mind wandering to places it had no business going. You watched him for a while longer than you should have. Way longer, actually. Long enough that your pulse was thudding in your ears and you had to actually press your thighs together under the blanket, for some reason. When he opened his eyes, he caught you staring, but he didn't flinch or look away. He just held your gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted in the tiniest knowing smile. He tilted his head a little, his hair falling into his eyes. "What?"
"Nothing." Your voice came out quieter than you meant, almost breathless. "That was nice." He smiled at that with the deep dimples, and went back to playing, but slower now, like he was performing just for you.
And oh boy — you were so screwed. Down bad and didn't even cover it. You were lying there pretending to scroll when you really were memorizing the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed of the soft exhale he let out between notes, or even the way his fingers looked wrapped around the neck of the guitar like they could wrap around anything else just as easily— Idiot. Absolute idiot.
The thing is: you knew you should leave. You knew it every single morning when you woke up in his guest bed. The luck wasn't coming back — you'd checked obsessively scratching lottery tickets and checking your horoscope and watching any sign that the universe was done punishing you. But nothing — you were still broke and still unlucky, but you stayed anyway. And it took you an embarrassingly amount of time to figure out why.
It wasn't the apartment, comfortable as it was, and it wasn't the food either, or the stability. It was actually Jungwon. It was the way he made you laugh without trying, or the way he remembered small things like that you didn't like your coffee too hot, or that you got cold at night, that you got anxious when you had too much free time. It was the shoulder squeeze and the good luck whishes every morning. It was the way he looked at you sometimes like you were the most interesting person in the room, even when the room was just the two of you eating takeout on his couch.
So yeah, you'd developed a crush on him. A bad one, really, the kind that made you hyper aware of every little interaction or the kind that made you smile at your phone for no reason after he texted you something stupid. The kind that kept you up at night staring at the ceiling replaying conversations in your head and analyzing his tone. It was pathetic, yeah, and you knew it. And you did absolutely nothing about it.
And it was a Thursday night when everything shifted. You were on the couch watching something neither of you was really paying attention to. Jungwon was on the other end scrolling through his phone. "How did you actually get the HYBE deal?" You asked kind out of nowhere, just curious about the situation in general.
He put his phone down and leaned back, thinking about it for a second. "Honestly? It was the most chaotic night of my life." He sat up straight and continued. "So we'd been trying for two years to get in front of anyone at a major label and nothing was working. We'd email or like, show up at showcases, leave demos with anyone who'd take them. And every single time, something would go wrong. Like that one time we got a showcase slot and I literally got hit by a bike on the way there. It was constant." He laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that meant it wasn't exactly that funny. "So I figured, okay, clearly doing things the normal way isn't going to work. So I said: I actually need to get creative."
"Creative how?" you asked.
"Well, I found out that HYBE was hosting this big event — a masquerade ball. And it was very exclusive, like invitation only, and all the big names in the industry were going to be there." He paused and you felt something cold start to settle in your chest. "So I got a job with the catering company."
Your own breathing suddenly felt very loud. You didn't move. "You got a job with the catering company," you repeated and your voice came out steadier than it should have.
"Yeah, a side gig really, I worked the event as a waiter." You couldn't believe his words and he kept going. "The whole time I was trying to find a guy named Yoon Jeonghan — he's HYBE's A&R director — so I could hand him our demo." Jungwon shook his head smiling at the memory.
You couldn't breathe properly. You were pretty sure you'd stopped breathing entirely at one point. "And did you find him?" you asked because you had to say something, and the silence could give you away.
"Not at first, actually. I spent most of the night just walking around trying to spot him, and then—" He stopped and laughed again. "Okay, this is going to sound insane. But I almost got him killed." He held a hand up before you could react. "Not on purpose! He just stepped off the curb without looking and a car was coming, and I just — I grabbed him and pulled him back. And after that, he was so grateful he actually took the CD was listening to it."
"That's—" you swallowed. "That's actually crazy."
"Right? The one night I needed everything to go right and get real lucky — I almost witnessed a hit and run." He laughed. "Yeah, but it worked out, he loved the demo and brought us in for a studio session, and the best is history."
You were staring at him. You knew you were staring at him and you couldn't stop because your brain was running through every single thing at once — the cafe, the way he felt familiar, the way he said I don't know, you just seem familiar — and it all made sense now. All of it. Jungwon was him. He was the waiter from the party. Jungwon was the guy you kissed. Jungwon was the reason your luck was gone. And you had been living with him for two weeks. And, accidentally-not-so-accidentally, falling for the guy. "Hey." Jungwon tilted his head, studying you. "You okay? You look kind of pale."
"Yeah I'm fine," you said too fast. "Just tired, I'm sorry."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I think I'm going to head to bed, actually."
"Okay." He didn't push, which was one of the things you liked about Jungwon, except right now you kind of wished he could because at least then you'd have an excuse to keep talking and to process this out loud, to said, wait, I have something to tell you. But you didn't say anything. You just stood up and walked down the hallway to the guest room, closed the door, leaned against it and immediately called Sunoo.
"I knew it, I knew it I fucking knew it!" He said. “So? What are you going to do? You're going to kiss him?"
You opened your mouth then closed it. Because the thing was — yes. You wanted to kiss Jungwon. You wanted to kiss him so badly it was ridiculous. But the reason you wanted to kiss him had nothing to do with getting your luck back, and that was the part that was making your chest feel like someone was sitting on it. "It's not that simple," you said instead.
"Why not? Kiss him and get your luck back, everybody wins."
"Yeah, everybody wins but Jungwon! I don't want to kiss him for the luck." Silence on the other end. "What do you mean?" Sunoo asked slower.
"I mean—" You slid down until you were sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. "I mean I want to kiss him because I want to kiss him because I like him, like embarrassingly much." You said that way too fast, and Sunoo kept silent. "Sunoo?"
"So you like him."
"Yes."
"The guy whose apartment you're living in."
"Yes."
"The guy you kissed at that party and took your luck away."
"Yes, Sunoo, that guy."
"Okay. Okay, that's —" He paused. "That's actually really cute."
"Fuck you mean cute?! It's a disaster, Sunoo! Because if I kiss him now, I don't know if it's because I actually want to or because I need my luck back, and he doesn't know any of this — he doesn't know about the fortune teller, he doesn't know I was the girl at the party, he doesn't know I've been living here partly because I'm trying to figure out how to get my luck back—"
"Okay, slow down. When did you start liking him? Like actually liking him?"
"I don't know. Gradually? I think it started when he made me fried rice the first night and then it just—" You made a vague gesture even though he couldn't see you. "Got worse."
"So you have a crush on him."
"I have more than a crush, dude, I think about him all the time and I memorize the way he laughs and I get excited when he comes home. Like yesterday he pushed my hair out of my face and I almost passed out, Sunoo! I almost passed out!"
"Okay so it's beyond a crush — it's a super crush."
"I know."
"Like, really down bad."
"I said I know, Sunoo!"
He was quiet for a moment, and you could practically hear him grinning through the phone. "So what's the problem, exactly? You like him and you need to kiss him. Seems like the universe is literally giving you an excuse to do the thing you already want to do."
"The problem is that it's not honest! I can't kiss him just because I want my luck back, that's using him."
"But you said you want to kiss him anyway."
"I do."
"So then it's not using him. It's just—multitasking."
"That's not —" You took a deep breath and laughed despite yourself. "That's not how that works. Plus, what if he doesn't feel the same way?"
"Well, you said he makes you breakfast, carries you to bed, he gets you groceries. I think he feels the same way." You leaned your head back against the door and stared at the ceiling. From somewhere in the living room, you could hear the faint sound of Jungwon's guitar again. You were quiet for a long time after that just listening to the guitar, thinking about his hands and his smile and the way he said good luck to you every morning like he actually meant it.
So, needless to say, the rest of the week was pure torture. Now that you knew that it was Jungwon who you had kissed at that party, you couldn't stop thinking about it — how his lips felt, and the memory lingered in your mind, and somehow the fact that he was the most charming and gentlest man you've ever met, made everything even more devastating. When he reached past your for the coffee mug in the morning, his arm brushed yours, and your skins burned for ten minutes after as if he'd dragged his fingers down your spine instead. Or when he stretched out on the couch and his shirt rode up just enough to show that tight strip of toned abdomen, the faint happy trail disappearing under his waistband, you had to physically look away before you did something stupid like trace it with your tongue. You tried to act normal you really did. But knowing what you knew now made everything feel different. Every interaction had this layer underneath it, like this secret weight that made your chest tight and your pulse throb whenever he got too close. And he kept getting close.
Like friday morning, he leaned over your shoulder to show you something on his phone, and his chest brushed your back, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, and you almost choked on your coffee. He patted your back laughing, and said "You okay?" and you said "fine, went down the wrong pipe," which was such a lie but he didn't question it, just let the hand rest there a beat too long, his thumb brushing the edge of your shoulder blade like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
He caught you staring at him on sunday, while he was playing the guitar again, and instead of looking away like a normal person, you just said "What?" and he smiled slowly, dimples carving deep, and said "Nothing, just glad you're here." His voice dropped on the last word, his eyes flicking down to your mouth for half a second before meeting yours again, and the air between you felt thick enough to taste.
And you almost said it right then, almost told him everything. But you didn't, because you were a coward, and because some part of you wasn't ready to lose this, whatever this was. On monday, he brought something up. "I have something to ask you. The showcase for ENHYPEN, it's this friday. I want you to come."
You blinked. "To the show?"
"Yeah, backstage, obviously. You'd be there with me the whole time." He said it casually like it was obvious, like there was no reason you wouldn't want to. "I think it'd be good to have you there."
"Me? Why?"
He shrugged but there was something in his eyes that said that he wasn't quite serious but wasn't entirely joking either. "Things have been going really well lately. And a lot of that started happening around the same time you showed up."
You laughed like you couldn't help it. "I'm not bringing you luck, Jungwon."
"Aren't you though?" He tilted his head, half smile pulling at his mouth. "Think about it. Before you, everything was falling apart."
You thought about it. You thought about it a lot, actually, because it wasn't much of a coincidence at all. It was literally your luck, living inside him, because you kissed him at a party and the universe decided to redistribute. "I seriously doubt I'm your good luck charm, Jungwon," you said, keeping your voice light.
"Well, I seriously doubt you're not." He pointed his fork at you. "So come, please? For me?" He was faking a pout now, and he was adorable.
"But what if I make everything worse?"
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"I have a good feeling." He was smiling now, and it was devastating, and you hated how easy it was to say yes to him.
"Okay, fine. I'll come." You finally said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You smiled and took a sip of your coffee and didn't say that's because your good luck is literally my good luck that you stole when we kissed at that masquerade ball and you don't even know it. But you almost, almost did.
The venue was bigger than you expected — it wasn't a stadium or anything like that obviously, but it had real lightning and a real sound equipment and a proper stage. Jungwon walked you through the backstage area, nodding at crew member and checking in with the sound engineer, all while keeping one hand loosely on the small of your back in a way that was probably just him guiding you through the crowd but it felt like way more than that.
The dressing room was small and chaotic. When you walked in, all four of them were there: Jay was passing by the door, Sunghoon was sitting on a bench with his eyes closed, drumsticks tapping against his knee, Jake was lying on the floor, I mean literally on the floor, staring at the ceiling while Heeseung was looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his jacket for what was clearly not the first time.
"Everyone," Jungwon said, gesturing to you. "This is—"
"Yeah, bro, we all know who she is," Jay interrupted without stopping his pacing. "Nice to meet you by the way, I'm Jay."
"It's not—"Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, while you nodded at Jay, smiling. Jungwon looked at Jake. "Jake? Why are you on the floor?"
"I'm focused," Jake said.
"You're lying down."
"Yeah, I focus better horizontally."
Heeseung turned from the mirror and looked at you properly for the first time, and he studied you for a second, smiling. "So you're the reason Jungwon's been in a good mood lately."
"I— What?" Jungwon says.
"You literally smile now, like, at things. It's weird."
"I smiled before," Jungwon said flatly.
You were grinning and you couldn't stop grinning. Jungwon caught your expression and shot you a look that was half embarrassed and half please help me, and you just shrugged enjoying this way too much. Jake finally got up from the floor and dusted himself off, walking over to you. "Nice to officially meet you. We've heard a lot."
"All good things," Jay added quickly, glancing at Jungwon.
"Mostly good things," Sunghoon corrected.
"Okay, everyone out," Jungwon said herding them toward the door. "Warm up. Sound check is in ten. Move."
They filled out one by one, Heeseung even winked at Jungwon in a way that made Jungwon pinch the bridge of his nose, and then it was just the two of you. The room was quieter than it had any right to be at this point, considering a few minutes ago it was full of chaos. Jungwon was leaning against the vanity counter with his arms crossed, and the tension in his shoulders had shifted from manager mode to something else. "So," he said. "They like you, apparently."
"They were just teasing you." You sat down in one of the chairs, calmly, still looking at him. "You okay? For tonight?"
"Nervous." He said it simply. "This is the biggest thing we've ever done, so if it does well… it could change everything for us. And if it doesn't—"
"It will."
He looked at you. "You don't know that."
"Well, I have a good feeling." You echoed his own words back at him, and he laughed, some of the tension in his jaw loosened. He pushed off the counter and walked toward you. You just stayed there watching him move easily and unhurried. He stopped right in front of your chair, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him.
"Thank you for being here, I mean it." He said, his voice was quieter now and his thighs were bracketing yours.
"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."
He held your gaze for a beat too long, and there was that thing, that charge that had been building between you for weeks. You could feel it in the air and in the way his eyes dropped just for a second to your mouth, lingering on your lips, before coming back up to meet your eyes again. You moved then. Not toward him, no, but away — because you were nervous. And then, of course, a disaster happened.
Your foot caught on the leg on the chair on your way up, the chair rolled backward and you stumbled, your arms pinwheeling, and you were about to hit the floor when his hands caught you; one at your waist, his fingers splaying wide over the curve of your hip, and the other one gripping your arm. Jungwon pulled you forward into him, hard enough that you slammed right into his chest, your breasts pressing flush against the hard planes of him.
Both of you froze. His hands were still on you, one at your waist digging in just enough to feel like a claim, and the other one on your arm was sliding up to your bicep, thumb stroking once and slow. Your palms were flat against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat under your fingers pounding like it wanted out. You looked up and his face was just inches from yours, his eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted.
Neither of you moved, god, neither of you even breathed. And then, from somewhere outside the dressing room door, Jay's voice cut through the silence. "Jungwon! Sound check, let's go!" Jungwon closed his eyes, and you watched his jaw tighten, and he took a slow breath through his nose, like he was physically forcing himself to come back to reality, but he didn't even move his hands. "Jungwon," Jay called again. "Now man. We're running behind."
"Coming," Jungwon said, but his voice came out rougher than he probably intended, like the sound of a man on the edge, and he didn't take his eyes off you.
You should have stepped back or laughed it off, made some joke and let him do his job. But you kept your hands on his chest, fingers slightly curling into the fabric of his shirt, and his hands were still on you and you couldn't move. You couldn't do anything except stand there and look at him and want him so badly it physically hurt. He must have seen it on your face, the raw need, because something in his expression shifted like the restraint cracked just for a second — that's when he kissed you.
It was the kind of kiss that feels like something breaking open. His hand was sliding from your waist to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair and gripping hard, pulling you in, his mouth hard against yours and certain, like he'd been thinking about doing this for weeks now. Because well, he kind of was. And you were shocked, genuinely shocked, your eyes going wide for a second before your brain caught up with your body, and you kissed him back.
You kissed him back like you'd been starving for it because you have. Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt pulling him closer until there was no space left. His other hand came up to your jaw, tilting your head exactly how he wanted, and the kiss deepened in a way that made your knees week. His tongue was sliding against yours slow and deep, claiming every inch, and the sound he made low in his throat was quiet enough that only you could hear it, but it vibrated through your chest and straight between your legs, making you ache for him.
And then when he finally pulled back, not all the way but just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb still tracing along your jaw, then slowly dragging down the column of your throat. You could feel him breathing hard, his chest rising and failing against your hands. "Jungwon!" Jay's voice again, closer now, and you could hear the footsteps in the hallway.
Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut for a second like he was in actual pain. Then he let go of you and stepped back. "I have to go now, okay?" he said. His voice was wrecked, hoarse. He looked at you one time time, his eyes ranking over your swollen lips like he was trying to memorize you and burn the image into his brain for later. He turned then and walked toward the door.
"Wait," you said, but he was already gone. The door swung shut behind him and you just stood there with your lips still tingling, your heart hammering so hard you could actually hear it in your ears, and you pressed your fingers to you mouth.
You kissed Jungwon. Jungwon kissed you. And somewhere in the back of your mind, buried under everything in an almost insignificant thought flickered through: Did it work?
You were about to check like pulling out you phone or find a scratch off app, anything, when you heard noise. Commotion behind the door — security guys sprinting down the hallway outside the dressing room, someone yelling something you didn't catch it and the sound of walkie talkies crackling. You then opened the door and stepped out into the corridor and the first person you saw was Jake, running full speed.
"Jake!" He almost ran right past you but you grabbed his arm. "What's going on?"
He stopped out of breath and his eyes were wide. "Sunghoon's gone."
"What do you mean gone? Gone where?"
"Bro, we don't know. He was right there one second and someone said he fell into some kind of pit behind the stage and now nobody can find him and the show starts in ten minutes and we're literally missing our drummer."
You just didn't know how to react. "He fell into a pit?! Like a hole? How?"
"I don't know! He said he was looking for the bathroom!"
A security guard jogged past you both, and the whole backstage area had descended into this not so controlled panic with people moving fast and everyone looking at everyone else. You let go of Jake's arm. "Go, help them look, I'll find Jungwon."
So you turned the corner toward the main backstage corridor, and that's when you spotted Yoon Jeonghan. He was standing near the production booth with his phone pressed to his ear — he did not look happy at all. He hung up and started pacing, muttering something that you were pretty sure included several words you wouldn't repeat in polite company. Then he saw you, blinked and stopped pacing. "Y/N? What are you doing here?"
"I'm — it's complicated. I'm here with Jungwon."
He looked at you then and it looked like something was flickering across his face, maybe amusement, but he probably didn't have the time for it because he was already shaking his head. "Look, I found out what happened at the ball, and what they did to you, kicking you out like that, was completely unfair." He pointed at you. "If you want a job, I can make it happen. We have an events division and frankly you're way more qualified than half the people we have."
Your mouth opened and then closed. "You serious?"
"I'm dead serious, but right now—" he gestured at the chaos around both of you. "Well, right now I have a band that's supposed to go on stage in fifteen minutes and one of their members apparently fell into a hole. And I just signed theses guys last month."
"Okay, I can fix this."
Jeonghan stared at you. "Fix what?"
"This situation. Give me ten minutes."
He looked at you trying to figure it out what you meant. "Ten minutes."
"Yeah. Just — just trust me on this one."
He held up his hands. "I literally have no other option right now, so, cure. Ten minutes. Go."
And finding Jungwon in the chaos of that venue was harder than it should have been. You checked the production booth; not there. The main dressing room, also empty. The corridor near the stage entrance and even security, but no Jungwon. You checked the bathroom, the catering area, even poked your head into a storage closet just in case but nothing.
And then you finally spotted him near the loading dock at the back of the venue, sitting on a concrete step with his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. His hair was a mess, his jacket was halfway off one shoulder, and he looked like someone who had just watched his entire life fall apart in real time. "Hey," you said as you approached him.
He looked up. "Hey." You sat down next to him, and for a second, neither of you said anything. "Everything is falling apart," he said and his voice was flat and tired. "Sunghoon fell into some kind of maintenance shaft and nobody can find him. The lighting rig almost came loose during the pre show check. Jay's mic has been cutting in and out for the last hour. And the sound engineer just told me there's a feedback issue he can't figure out." He laughed, but it was hollow. "It's like it all started again. All at once." He dropped his head into his hands. "I thought it was over, I thought the bad luck was done."
You looked at him and your chest ached. Because you knew, you knew exactly why this was happening. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong, right on schedule because apparently that's how it works when the universe decides to rebalance.
And it was your fault. So you grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him toward you and kissed him again. You grabbed him hard enough that he stumbled forward, one hand instinctively coming up to catch himself against the step, and your other hand was shaking, and your eyes were burning in a way that had nothing to do with the dusty air. His hand came up to the back of your neck pulling you closer, responding almost immediately.
When you pulled back, you were breathing hard, and he was looking at you with this expression that was equal parts confused and completely wrecked. "What was that ab—"
And then the music started. Not the pre show stuff but the opening notes of their first song and the crowd erupted. You both turned toward the stage entrance, and that's when you saw through the side door, visible from where you were sitting and there, climbing up onto the drum platform from a maintenance ladder behind the kit, covered in dust grinning like an idiot, Sunghoon. He'd been in the maintenance shaft the entire time. The shaft that connected directly to the raised platform behind the drum kit.
Jake was already at the mic, laughing. Heeseung was strapping on his guitar, shaking his head. Jay caught Sunghoon's eye from across the stage and just mouthed something that made Sunghoon flip him off. The show was starting, so Jungwon stood up slowly, still staring at the stage and then he turned back to you. "How did—" he started.
"Go," you said. "They need you."
He looked at you, at the stage and then back at you. "But I really want to kiss you again right now," he said.
"Later." You pushed him gently toward the stage door. "Go. Work. Be amazing."
He took a step backward still looking at you and that half smile pulling at his mouth. "You know we're not done talking about this right?"
"I know."
He turned and jogged toward the stage, and you watched him disappear through the side door and then you sat back down on the concrete step, alone, and pressed your hands to your face. And somewhere in your chest, something was cracking open. You stayed there for a minute, maybe two, trying to breathe normally, trying to think. Then you got up, wiped your face with the back of your hand, and walked back inside. You could see the stage from here but not all of it, just a sliver through the gap in the curtain. The crowd was already on their feet, phones up, and Jungwon was standing at the side of the stage with his headset on, watching them.
This was everything they'd been working toward, everything he'd been working toward. And it was happening because you kissed him, because you gave him back his luck. Your vision blurred and you blinked but it didn't help, so you just turned and walked away before anyone could see.
The apartment was too quiet when you got back and you stood in the doorway for a second, staring at the living room. Two coffee mugs sat on the table, one of them yours, the handle chipped from when you'd knocked it against the sink last week. The blanket you used at night was folded on the chair. It looked lived in, it looked like two people lived here. Because it did.
You went to the guest room and started packing and since you didn't have much it took maybe ten minutes. When you were done, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the far wall. The apartment was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen, so you thought about Jungwon coming home later, late probably, after one of his best nights ever and finding you gone.
You thought about the look on his face and your throat got tight. You found a notepad and you stared at the blank page for a long time before you picked up the pen.
jungwon,
i'm sorry. i know that's not enough, but i don't know what else to say. i can't stay. i thought i could figure this out, but i can't. every time i'm around you, things get complicated, and i don't know how to fix it without making everything worse. you're going to do incredible things. tonight proved that. you and the guys are going to be huge, and you deserve all of it. you worked so hard for this.
thank you for everything. for letting me stay. for the coffee and the terrible toast that one time. for being kind when i didn't deserve it.
i hope you understand.
You stopped and stared at what you'd written and thought about adding more — something about the masquerade ball, the fortune teller, the kiss — but what would that even do? He'd think you were losing it and honestly maybe you were. You signed it with just your name and left it on the kitchen counter, then you grabbed your bag, took one last look around, and left.
Sunoo opened the door before you could knock. "I saw you coming up the street," then he looked at your bag and at your face. "Oh no."
"Can I come in?"
"Obviously, come in." Sunoo sat down next to you and didn't say anything. "I kissed him, everything fell apart and then I kissed him again at the venue, right before the show. And then everything started going right again. Because I gave him the luck back." You looked up and your eyes were burning. "And if I stay, if I keep doing this, I'm going to ruin his life because every time I kiss him, it switches. I can't do that to him."
"Did you tell him any of this?"
"No."
"So you just left."
"I left a note."
"Are you serious right now?"
"What was I supposed to do Sunoo?!"
"I don't know, maybe talk to him? Like an adult?"
"And say what? Hey, by the way, I'm the reason your life fell apart and then got better and if we keep kissing it's going to keep yo-yoing forever?"
"Yes. Exactly that."
You looked at him. "He'd think I'm insane."
"He probably already thinks you're a little insane. You've been living in his apartment for weeks." Sunoo leaned back, arms crossed. "He's going to come looking for you, you know."
"Then I won't answer."
"You're going to hide in my apartment forever?"
"If I have to," you said. Sunoo made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "You're the dumbest smart person I know. This is genuinely the worst decision you've ever made." Your phone buzzed then and it was Jungwon, and you and Sunoo looked at it.
jungwon: show was amazing. where are you? want to grab food?
Your chest hurt and flipped the phone face down on your lap. You didn't answer, you just sat there on the world's worst couch and tried not to think about the way Jungwon's hand had felt on the back of your neck. The way he'd looked at you before he ran to the stage. The way he'd said you know we're not done talking about this, right? And then your phone buzzed again.
jungwon: you okay?
You turned it off. And you were absolutely miserable for the next few days. You kept your phone completely off shoved in the bottom of your bag where you wouldn't be tempted to turn it back on just to see if he'd texted again. You barely left Sunoo's apartment, you sat on the couch with the blanket pulled up to your chin and stared at the TV without actually watching anything. Sunoo would leave for work in the morning and come back in the evening with takeout, and you'd eat because he was looking at you like he was worried you'd forget to, and then you'd go back to staring at nothing.
One day you finally turned your phone on just for a minute, just to see. Fifteen missed calls and twenty three texts, most of them from Jungwon. A few from numbers you didn't recognize — probably the guys, or Jeonghan. But you didn't read any of them, you turned the phone off again and handed it to Sunoo and told him to hide it somewhere you wouldn't find it.
Eventually you started to feel like a person again. Not a good person, not a functional person, but a person. You showered and you changed out of the clothes you'd been wearing for days straight. You sat at Sunoo's tiny kitchen table and drank coffee and stared out the window at the street below and thought about what you were going to do next. You couldn't stay here forever, Sunoo's apartment was barely big enough for him, and you were taking up his couch and his space and his emotional energy and it wasn't fair. You needed to figure out a plan so you called your mom and told her you were staying there for a while, and she obviously said yes.
You packed what little you had and tried not to think about the apartment you'd left behind, tried not to think about Jungwon. You tried not to think about the way he'd kissed you in the dressing room, or the way his hand had felt on your neck or the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth keeping. But you thought about it anyway, you thought about it all the time, actually. It sat in your chest like a weight you couldn't shift heavy and constant and aching in a way that made it hard to breathe sometimes.
So when the day came, you sat on a bench in the park across from your old building with your bag at your feet, an hour before your train to your hometown was supposed to leave. Sunoo had offered to come with you to the station but you'd told him no, that you wanted to do this part alone, and he'd hugged you at the door and told you to text him when you got to your mom's and you'd promised you would. Now you were just sitting, watching people walk by — couples holding hands, someone walking a dog. Just people living their normal luck-curse-free lives.
You thought about everything you'd had a month ago. The job, the apartment. the confidence that came from being someone who had their life together, someone people looked at and thought had it figured out. Thought about how you'd lost all of that in one night. But none of it — none of the job or the apartment or your carefully constructed life — hurt as much as this. Losing Jungwon hurt more than all of it combined.
You were standing there staring at the pavement and trying to convince yourself that leaving him was the right then to do, when you heard your name. Quiet and almost hesitant like the person saying it wasn't sure it was really you. You looked up and Jungwon was standing ten feet away and he looked wrecked. His hair was a mess and he had dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn't a good night of sleep in days.
He looked at you and his expression did something complicated — relief, anger, hurt, all of it at once. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he said.
You stood up. "Jungwon—"
"You left." His voice cracked a little on the word. "You just — you left a note and disappeared, and I've been calling you for a week, and Sunoo wouldn't tell me where you were, and I thought—" He stopped and took a breath. "I thought something happened to you."
"I'm fine."
"Are you though? Because you're sitting on a bench with a suitcase looking like you're about to get on a train and never come back." You didn't say anything because he was right, so he took a step closer. "Can we talk? Please. Just five minutes, that's all I'm asking."
"Jungwon, I can't—"
"Five minutes."
You looked at him, at the way his jaw was tight and at the way he was looking at you like if you said no he might actually break. "Okay, five minutes."
He sat down on the bench. You sat next to him leaving space between you, and for a long moment neither of you said anything. "Why did you leave?" He asked eventually.
You stared at your hands. "It's complicated."
"So explain it to me." His eyes were pleading.
So you took a breath and let it out slowly. "Do you remember the masquerade ball? The one you worked as a waiter?"
He blinked. "Yeah?"
You turned to look at him. "Do you remember kissing someone that night?"
He went very still. "I—" He stopped. "Yeah. I do."
"That was me."
The silence that followed was so thick. "You," he said slowly. "You were the girl—"
"Yeah."
You watched him try to piece it together, watched his brain work through it. "So that's why you seemed familiar. That's why—" He stopped again. "Wait. If you knew it was me, why didn't you say anything?"
"Because it's not just that." You were talking faster now, in a rush because if you stopped you'd lose your nerve. "There was a fortune teller at the party. She told me my luck was about to run out and I thought she was full of it, but then we kissed, and everything in my life fell apart. I lost my job, my apartment, everything. And at the same time, your life got better. The band got signed, you moved into a nicer place, everything started going right for you."
He was staring at you. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying the kiss transferred my luck to you, Jungwon. I know how that sounds, I know I sound insane and I know you probably think I'm completely insane right now, but I swear I'm telling the truth. The fortune teller said it happens sometimes — when someone with a lot of good luck kisses someone with a lot of bad luck, it balances out apparently. And that's what happened to us I think." Jungwon didn't say anything, looking at you like he was trying to figure out if you were serious. "And then, when I kissed you again at the venue, before the show — I gave you the luck back. That's why everything went right that night. That's why the show was perfect. But it also means I took it away from myself again, and if I stay, if we keep doing this, it's just going to keep switching back and forth, and I can't—" Your voice broke. "I can't keep doing that to you. I can't ruin your life every time I want to be near you."
The silence stretched out. A car drove by. Someone laughed on the other side of the park. The world kept moving and you sat there waiting for him to say something, anything. "So you left because you thought you were protecting me. By disappearing without explaining any of this."
"I didn't think you'd believe me."
"You didn't even give me the chance, Y/N!"
You stood up and you looked down at your hands. "I know."
"Do you?" He stood up with you and his voice was sharper. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you made a decision for both of us without asking what I wanted. You decided I was better off without you and just left."
"You are better off—"
"Don't." He cut you off. "Don't tell me what I want. Don't tell me what's better for me."
"Jungwon—"
"I don't care about the luck." He was looking right at you now and his eyes bright and intense. "I don't care if it switches every time we're together. I don't care if everything falls apart again. I just want you to stay."
Your throat closed up. "You don't know what you're saying—"
"I know exactly what I'm saying." He reached out and took your hand. "I'm saying I don't care about any of it. Not even the band or the contract because it doesn't mean anything if you're not there with me."
You were crying now. You didn't know when it started, but your face was wet and your vision was blurred and you couldn't stop. "I'm going to ruin everything for you," you said.
"Then ruin it," he said simply. "I don't care."
"Jungwon—"
"Stay." His voice broke on the word. "Please. Just stay."
You looked at him, at how you were completely in love with this guy and you thought about the train ticket in your pocket — the plan to start over, the clean break you wanted. And then you thought about his laugh, about the way he looked at you like you were the best part of his day. You were completely in love with Jungwon.
"I'm scared, Won," you whispered.
"I'm scared too, love. But we will make it work. I promise you." His eyes were glassy and he was looking at you with that look — that down bad look he gave you countless times before.
You were so tired of running. "Okay."
He blinked. "Okay?"
"Okay. I'll stay."
For a second he didn't move like he was afraid he'd heard you wrong, like if he reacted too fast you'd take it back. And then his face broke into this smile, the one that made your chest ache because it was so openly, devastatingly happy. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He pulled you toward him and you went, and then his arms were around you and his face was buried in your hair and you could feel him breathing, could feel the way his hands gripped the back of your jacket like he was holding on for dear life. "Don't do that again," he said into your shoulder. "Don't just leave."
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise." He pulled back just enough to look at you and his hands came up to your face, thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn't realized were still falling. His eyes were searching yours like he was checking to make sure you meant it. "I'm sorry," you said. "I should've told you. I should've—"
"Stop," he said gently. "Don't apologize."
"But—"
"We'll figure it out. The luck thing, all of it. I don't care how complicated it is. We'll figure it out together."
And then, finally, he kissed you carefully like he was giving you a chance to change your mind, but when you leaned into him he kissed you deeper. His hand slid to the back of your neck and his fingers threading into your hair, and the other stayed on your face. When he pulled back, it was only for a second. "Hi," he said, and there was that smile again.
"Hi," you giggled.
And then he kissed you again, this time with more confidence and more certainty, his mouth moving against yours like he was making up for lost time. You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up to his shoulders, then to his neck. He pulled back again with his forehead resting against yours. "One more," he murmured.
"You're keeping count?"
"No. Definitely not keeping count."
He kissed you again, and again, and again, and you didn't care that you were in public, that people were probably staring, that your train was leaving in forty minutes and you weren't going to be on it. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard, and he was grinning like an idiot. "I have no idea who has the luck right now."
You laughed and it felt like something breaking open in your chest, something that had been wound too tight for too long. "Me neither."
"Good. Let's keep it that way." He kissed you one more time and when he pulled away he kept his forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed, just breathing with you. "So," he said after a minute. "What do we do about the train ticket?"
"I don't know. Refund?"
"I vote for that option."
His hand sliding down to lace with yours and he looked at you like he was still trying to convince himself you were real. "Come home," he said. "Please. Come back to the apartment."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. I've been sure since the day you showed up soaking wet with a broken umbrella." He squeezed your hand. "I want you there. I want you to stay."
You looked at him and you thought about the place that slowly started feeling like yours too. "Okay, let's go home."
His smile was so bright it could've powered the entire city. He grabbed your bag off the ground and you walked next to him with your hand still in his, and he didn't let go the entire way back. Not when you crossed the street, not when you got to his building, not even when he had to dig his keys out of his pocket with his free hand. When you got to the apartment, he dropped your bag by the door and turned to you. "For the record," he said, "I'm never letting you leave again."
"Is that a threat?"
"Yeah, and I'm definitely kidnapping you this time."
You laughed and then he kissed you again right there in the doorway, and you kissed him back, and he didn't break the kiss right away. Instead he backed you up slowly step by step until your back met the door with a soft thud. His hands slid up to frame your face and he pulled back just enough to look at you. "God, baby," he murmured and he pressed a finger to your lips, then replaced it with his mouth with a quick teasing kiss. "I'm gonna kiss you so many times tonight the universe is gonna run out of bad luck and just start handing us infinite good fortune." He laughed softly against your mouth. "Starting right now."
Before you could answer he kissed you again deeper, his tongue sliding slow against yours. His hands moved, one sliding down to grip your hip and the other tangling in your hair, and he pressed his body flush against yours pinning you gently but firmly to the door. You made a small needy sound into his mouth and he groaned in response, pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips. "You're so perfect, fuck—"
Your knees went weak and he must have felt it because his arm wrapped around your waist steadying you, and then he scooped you up like you weighed nothing. You gasped as your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips and your arms looped around his neck. "Easy," he said grinning as he carried you toward the kitchen. "I've got you."
He set you down on the counter but he didn't step back. Instead he stepped between your legs with his hands sliding up your thighs to rest at your hips. He leaned in close and said "look at me," softly, his voice dipping into that gentle command. You did and his eyes were locked on yours, intense, adoring, a little hungry, and he tilted his head. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured. "My pretty girl." His thumb dragged along your bottom lip parting it slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you like this."
He kissed you again while one hand slid up under your shirt, his palm flat against the bare skin of your back pulling you closer. You moaned softly and he rewarded you with a low hum, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth along your jaw down the side of your neck. He nipped lightly at your collarbone then soothed it with his tongue. "Tell me if it's too much," he said.
You nodded breathless. "I want you, Won."
His smile turned downright sinful. Jungwon kissed you again more possessively, his hands roaming freely now, one sliding up to cup the back of your neck and the other slipping under your shirt to trace the curve of your spine. You tugged at his hair pulling him closer, and he groaned into your mouth, hips rocking forward once, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you. He broke the kiss just enough to breathe. "Fuck," he whispered. "Are you okay? We can slow down. Or stop, whatever you need."
You shook your head quickly and your fingers tightening in his hair. "Don’t stop, please"
His eyes searched yours for a long second. "Okay." He kissed you once more then pulled back just enough to look down between you, at where your thighs were still wrapped loosely around his hips on the counter. His hands settled on the tops of your legs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over the denim. "Can I touch you?" he asked quietly, voice almost shy despite everything. "Please?"
Your heart stuttered at the way he asked earnest and almost pleading. "Yeah," you whispered. "Yeah, you can."
His smile was instant. "Thank you, baby." He kissed you one more time grateful, then slid his hands down to the button of your jeans. He popped it open slowly and his fingers hooked into the waistband tugging gently. "Lift up for me?" he murmured.
You braced your hands behind you on the counter and lifted your hips just enough. He peeled the jeans down your thighs carefully so as not to rush, then he dropped to his knees between your legs right there on the kitchen floor and your breath caught hard. He looked up at you with eyes wide and reverent, hands resting on the outside of your thighs. "You’re so beautiful," he said simply. "Look at you. All pretty just for me."
He leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the inside of your knee, just a brush of lips, and then another a little higher, teasing the sensitive skin with feather light kisses, occasionally letting his tongue flick out just enough to make you shiver. "Jungwon…" Your voice came out small and needy.
"I know baby," he murmured against your thigh. "Just relax for me okay? Let me take care of you." He kissed higher open mouthed now, sucking lightly just below where your thigh met your hip. His hands slid up to hook under your knees spreading your legs wider so he could fit himself closer. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but the way he looked at you made it feel safe instead of scary. He nuzzled the damp cotton of your underwear, nose brushing the most sensitive part of you through the fabric and you gasped. "Already so wet f'me," he said, voice low and awed. "Fuck, that's perfect. You're perfect."
He hooked two fingers into the side of your panties and tugged them down agonizingly slowly until they were off and tossed somewhere behind him. Then he looked up at you again, eyes dark with want but still so gentle. You nodded breathlessly and that seemed to unravel something in him. He leaned in and kissed you there, not diving in, not yet, just a closed mouth press right over your clit. Then another and another tiny reverent kisses. "You taste so good baby," he murmured between kisses. "Just from this. My good girl..." Finally he flattened his tongue and licked one long, slow stripe up your center. You moaned, head falling back, and he groaned in response. "That's it, let me hear you baby."
He did it again slower circling your clit with the softest pressure before pulling back to kiss like it was your mouth, and your hips bucked involuntarily. Jungwon felt the way your hips jerked up and just pressed his palm firmer against your thigh, keeping you right where he wanted you. The sounds were filthy in the quiet kitchen: wet, soft, the occasional quiet suck when he sealed his lips around your clit again. Your fingers tightened in his hair and he let out this low, pleased hum that vibrated straight through you. "Fuck," you breathed, hips twitching.
You were getting louder without meaning to and he didn't shush you or tell you to be quiet. He just groaned against you like the sounds were turning him on more. When your breathing hitched hard and your whole body tensed, he didn't speed up, he just stayed exactly where he was. Your back arched off the counter, a choked "Jungwon—" slipping out as you came, thighs squeezing around his head, fingers yanking his hair hard.
He didn't flinch, he just kept licking you soft and slow through the aftershocks until you were whimpering and pushing weakly at his forehead. "Fuck that was so hot," he murmured, finally pulling back. His lips were shiny and his chin wet, then he stood up slowly leaning over you to kiss you, letting you taste yourself. You were still catching your breath when he broke the kiss. "You good?" he asked.
"Yeah," you managed, voice wrecked. "That was… yeah."
He smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth. "Good." Then he hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you off the counter and you wrapped your legs around him in reflex and he carried you down the hallway. He kicked his bedroom door shut with his heel and walked over to the bed, set you down in the middle, then he climbed over you shifting his weight, bracing on his forearms and looked down at your face for a second. "What do you want now, mhm?" he asked, then he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth. "I'm down for whatever you want, baby. Just tell me."
You reached up, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to kiss him. He let you, melting into the kiss, and when you broke apart you were both breathing a little harder. "I want you, so much," you said simply.
He exhaled through his nose a relieved sound, and kissed you again before trailing his lips down your jaw then your neck. He found the spot just under your ear and sucked lightly, humming when you shivered. "Me too, love. You're so fucking pretty, I can't get over it." Another kiss, lower, along your collarbone, then down to the center of your chest, right between your breasts, his lips brushing the fabric of your shirt. "This body… fuck, it's all mine tonight, yeah?"
You laughed softly and a little breathless, and he kept going, pushing your shirt up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered. Stomach, the dip of your waist, the curve under your ribs. "Gosh look at you," he breathed, lips grazing the underside of your breast. He kissed there, then higher, his tongue flicking over your nipple before he took it into his mouth while his hand cupped the other one. You arched a little, fingers tightening in his hair, and he groaned low against you. "Love the way you sound when I touch you," he said, switching sides, giving the same careful attention. "Makes me crazy."
He spent minutes like that and eventually he kissed his way back up, settling between your legs again, hard and obvious against you through his sweats. He rocked once slowly letting you feel him then dropped his forehead to yours. "Baby," he whispered. "I want to be inside you so bad."
You smiled and before he could say anything else you pushed at his shoulders until he rolled onto his back with a surprised little huff. Now you were the one hovering over him, straddling his hips with your hands braced on his chest. His eyes widened for a second, then softened while his lips curved intoa lazy smile. "Oh?" he said, voice teasing. "You taking over now?"
"Yeah," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him slowly and deep, letting your tongue slide against his until he groaned into your mouth. You pulled back just enough to speak against his lips. "My turn to make you feel good."
You kissed down his jaw, then his neck, mirroring what he'd done to you, smiling when his hips jerked up under you. "Fuck," he breathed, hands settling on your waist. "You're gonna kill me love."
You kept going down his chest, lips brushing over the cotton of his shirt first, and you could tell how much he liked it by the way his stomach flexed under every kiss. You slid your hands under the hem pushing the fabric up and exposing the smooth toned plane of his stomach. He had that subtle definition, just lean and strong, a faint happy trail started just below his navel leading down. You followed it with your tongue with a deliberate stripe right up the center of his abs and Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath, his abs jumping under your mouth. "Fuck…" he exhaled, voice wrecked. His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through gently.
You kissed lower, lips tracing the sharp cut of his hipbone then the other side and every time you got close to the waistband of his sweats you'd pull back just enough to kiss the skin right above it. "Baby," he murmured, half laugh and half plea. "You're killing me here."
You looked up at him through your lashes, smirking. "Good." He was breathing harder now, and you palmed him over the fabric with a slow drag of your hand from base to tip, feeling how thick and hard he already was. The outline was obscene and long enough that the head pushed against the waistband, thick enough that your fingers didn't quite meet when you wrapped around him. "So pretty," you said softly with your eyes locked on his.
He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan when you squeezed just a little. "You have no fucking idea what you do to me," he rasped biting his bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark.
You tugged the waistband down finally letting the elastic catch on the head for a second before you pulled it past. He sprang free and heavy against his stomach, flushed dark at the tip, already glistening with precum that beaded at the slit and slid down the underside in a thin line. You wrapped your fingers around him then you stroked once, slow from root to tip, thumb swiping over the head to spread the precum. Jungwon's head fell back against the pillow with a thud. "Shit — fuck, baby…"
You did it again slowly and watched every reaction. "Feels good?" you asked teasingly.
"So fucking good," he groaned and his hips lifting into your hand before he caught himself. "Don't — don't tease too much, please. I'm already losing it." But you did tease just a little more. You leaned down and kissed the inside of his thigh then higher, right at the crease where leg met hip, letting your breath ghost over him without touching. He whined low and needy. "Baby, please…" His voice cracked on the word and his fingers in your hair tightened. "Please put your mouth on me. I need it. Need you." You smiled against his skin, then finally gave in and you licked a slow flat stripe from base to tip and his whole body jerked. "Oh god — fuck yes," he gasped and his voice breaking. "Just like that. Fuck, your tongue…"
You swirled around the head with slow circles, then flicked the underside and he cursed under his breath, hips stuttering up. "Baby — shit, you're so good at this, fuck I love your mouth." You took him in properly then, sucking his length while your tongue pressed flat against the slit. He moaned loud and unrestrained. "Yes — yes, fuck, suck it like that," he babbled, voice wrecked and so, so vocal. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
You bobbed down further until he hit the back of your throat and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder on the pull up, hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. His breathing turned ragged, moans spilling out nonstop. "Fuck baby, you're gonna make me come so fast," he groaned, fingers flexing in your hair. You hummed around him and he practically sobbed. "Baby fuck, do that again. Please. I'm —shit, I'm so close already."
You picked up the pace just enough and your hand twisting at the base while your tongue worked the head on every upstroke. His hips were jerking in helpless thrusts and his voice cracking on every word. "Gonna come baby, I'm gonna come," he warned, desperate. "Where — fuck, where do you want it?"
You pulled off just long enough to whisper, "In my mouth." Then you took him deep again sucking hard, and he broke. "Fuck yes— fuck baby—" His whole body locked up and his hips snapped forward once as he came with a loud moan, spilling hot and thick down your throat. You swallowed around him working him through every pulse until he was whimpering from overstimulation, hand gently tugging you off.
He collapsed back and his eyes were glassy as he looked down at you. "Holy shit," he breathed. "Come here." He pulled you up immediately with his strong arms wrapping around you, rolling so you were half on top of him. He kissed you messy and deep, tasting himself on your tongue then softer hands stroking your back like he was grounding himself. "You're insane," he murmured against your lips, still catching his breath. You laughed quietly, pressing your face into his neck. "Still want inside you," he added. "Soon as I can breathe again."
You laughed a breathless giggle and leaned in to kiss his face everywhere. Soft pecks on his forehead and his eyelids then the tip of his nose, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes, smiling lazily, letting you do whatever you wanted while his hands rubbed slow circles on your back. "The universe must be confused as hell right now with all the kisses we've been throwing around," he murmured, voice still a little rough, his eyes opening n to meet yours with that playful glint.
You grinned, pressing one more kiss to his jaw. "I have no idea who's got the luck right now."
"Well I don't know," he said, smirking, "but I'm feeling pretty damn lucky."
Before you could respond, he shifted and his arms wrapped around your waist as he rolled you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling over you. He caught your hands and lacing his fingers through yours and pinning them gently above your head. Then he kissed your face just like you'd done to him: forehead, cheeks, nose, eyelids. "I'm so crazy about you," he whispered against your temple. "Like stupid crazy."
He released your hands but kept his fingers tangled with yours on one side, using the free one to slide under your shirt again. He tugged it up slowly and kissing the skin as it appeared until he could pull it over your head and toss it aside. His mouth was everywhere then and he took his time sucking lightly on one nipple while his thumb brushed the other, humming low in his throat when you arched into him. "Fuck you're gorgeous," he murmured between kisses.
He settled between your legs again, hard against you, and rocked slowly with his tip teasing your clit with the blunt pressure then dipping just barely against your entrance. Back and forth, slow drags that made you gasp, hips lifting to chase more. "Feel that? How bad I want you?" But then he paused as a small self deprecating laugh escaping him. "Shit, wait. I don't wanna push my luck here. Need a condom before I... yeah."
You laughed too, nodding. "Yeah, good call."
He kissed you quick then rolled off to grab one from his nightstand drawer. He tore the wrapper with his teeth, rolling it on with quick, his yes flicking back to you the whole time like he couldn't look away. Then he was back over you settling between your thighs, one hand bracing beside your head while the other guided himself. He teased again with just the tip circling your entrance pressing in barely an inch before pulling back, watching your face. "Ready baby?" he asked.
You nodded. "Please, Won."
He pushed in slow stretching you inch by inch, the burn intense as your body adjusted to him. He was thick, filling you up so completely that you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned low against your neck, "Fuck," he rasped. "You feel... so good. So tight around me. You okay?"
"Yeah," you whispered, rolling your hips experimentally making you both moan. "Move. Please move."
He did, slowly pulled out then deep thrusting back in, building a rhythm that had the bed creaking quietly under you. He kept that slow, deep rhythm at first pulling almost all the way out just to slide back in with a deliberate grind. The stretch was perfect bordering on too much, his thickness filling you so completely that you could feel every ridge. Sweat slicked between your bodies, and you could hear the quiet creak of the bed mixed with the wet obscene sounds of him moving inside you.
"Fuck baby, you feel so good," Jungwon whined, voice high. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut for a second before they fluttered open, locking on you with this desperate look. "So tight... God, I can't— I can't. You're driving me insane."
You whimpered back, hands clawing at his back. "Jungwon — please, harder... need you deeper," you begged, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. It felt so good it almost hurt, that sweet ache building low in your belly, but you wanted more, wanted him to ruin you.
He groaned loud, a shaky, obsessed sound, and picked up the pace with his thrusts turning sharper, hips snapping forward with a wet slap each time. "Like that? Fuck yes — tell me, baby." His mouth crashed against your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise. One hand slid down to grip your thigh, hitching it higher around his waist so he could angle deeper, hitting that spot that made you see white.
"Oh god — right there," you cried out. "You're so big..."
"Fuck I love this pussy..." He was babbling now completely unfiltered, hips stuttering as he chased the feeling, his free hand roaming everywhere, squeezing your breast, thumb flicking your nipple hard. You pulled him down for a messy kiss, both of you whining into each other's mouths. "Want on top, let me ride you — please, Won," you whined.
He let out a broken moan at that. "Yeah? Fuck — yes, baby." He rolled you both over and settled on his back with you straddling his hips, his cock still buried deep inside you and the new angle made you gasp. You braced your hands on his chest and started moving with slow rolls at first, grinding your clit against his pelvis. He looked up at you like you were a goddess, hands gripping your hips hard. "Holy shit — you look so hot like this," he whined with his hips bucking up weakly to meet you. "Bouncing on my cock... fuck, your tits — play with them for me? Please baby, wanna see."
You did, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples, moaning whiny and loud as you picked up speed, lifting and dropping harder now. "Like this?"
He threw his head back, throat exposed and bobbing with a swallow, a needy whine escaping him. "Yes fuck, just like that." You leaned down sinking your teeth into his shoulder enough to make him hiss and buck wildly under you, his hands sliding to your ass to squeeze and guide your movements. "Fuck yes, like that, gonna come if you keep, shit, baby."
You tightened around him on purpose as you rode him. "Oh god baby, fuck, do it again," so you did and he gasped and his voice was cracking, hips jerking up hard enough to make you bounce. His hands flew to your ass, gripping tight and then on instinct, he lifted one palm and brought it down in a sharp smack right across your cheek. You moaned loud and shameless. Jungwon froze for half a second, eyes widening like he'd just discovered something dangerous, then he saw the way your back arched, the way you clenched even tighter around him, and his expression shifted. "You liked that yeah?" he rasped while his palm was rubbing over the warm spot he'd just hit. "Fuck… you really liked that huh?"
You nodded fast, biting your lip. "Yeah, fuck, do it again. Please."
He groaned like the word alone almost finished him off. Another smack harder this time and you cried out, grinding down harder on his cock. "Goddamn, love, such a good girl for me… taking it so well." He squeezed your ass possessively then delivered one more controlled slap. "Turn around," he said suddenly, voice firm. "On your hands and knees. Now."
You scrambled off him and got into position with your ass up and your back arched. You looked back over your shoulder, while Jungwon sat up behind you, hands roaming over your hips, your waist, your back like he couldn't decide where to touch first. "Fuck princess, you're dripping down your thighs. Fuck, I'm obsessed."
He lined himself up again with his tip nudging your entrance, teasing for just a second then he pushed in slowly at first, and you both moaned at the same time, filthy. "So deep," you whined, pushing back against him. "Jungwon — please… fuck me hard."
His grip tightened on your hips and he started thrusting fast, really fast, slapping against your ass with every stroke, the bedframe rattled against the wall. "Fuck fuck, baby, listen to that," he panted. "You love it rough, don't you? Love when I fuck you like this?"
"Yes yes, oh gosh yes," you cried, pushing back to meet every thrust, hands fisting the sheets. "Harder please, Jungwon, don't stop—"
He leaned over you with his chest pressing to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other slid between your legs. His fingers found your clit rubbing fast circles that matched the brutal rhythm of his hips. "Come for me again," he begged, voice whiny and commanding at the same time. "Please, baby milk me, I need it around my cock."
You were already close, the angle hitting that spot over and over and his fingers relentless while your moans turned into broken sobs. "Jungwon, I'm — fuck, I'm gonna—"
"Do it," he growled against your ear. "Be a good girl and come for me, yeah?" You shattered with your back arching hard, walls clamping down around him in fluttering pulses as you came with a wrecked cry of his name. Your whole body shook, vision blurring. He fucked you through it fast and sloppy now, chasing his own high. "Fuck baby, that's it, milk me, shit, I'm so close — gonna come —"
"Come for me, Won, please —" you whined, pushing back weakly.
That sent him over. He slammed in one last time deeply, his hips flush against your ass and came with a long, broken moan that sounded almost pained, his cock pulsing hard inside you as he spilled into the condom. His whole body shuddered, arms wrapping tight around you from behind, holding you close while he rode out the aftershocks.
He stayed buried inside you for a good minute after he came, bath of you breathing hard while his chest was plastered to you back and his arms locked around your middle. His face was tucked into the side of your neck and every few seconds he would press a lazy kiss there. Eventually he pulled out slowly and carefully, hissing a little through his teeth when the cool air hit him. "Fuck that was intense," he muttered as he rolled the condom off and tied it quick, chucking it toward the trash can by the desk.
You laughed, still face down on the mattress. "Yeah, it really was…"
He flopped down beside you, one arm slinging over your waist pulling you sideways so you were kind of snooping, as his fingers started tracing lazy patterns on your hip. "You okay my love? I kinda went feral at the end there."
You turned your head enough to look at him. His hair was a disaster, sticking up everywhere and his cheeks were super flushed, but he was smiling and it was disarming. "More than okay. My legs are jelly, though. And my ass is gonna remind me of you tomorrow."
He grinned with that boyish grin. "That's good, a souvenir." Then he leaned in and kissed your shoulder right over one of the little red marks he'd left earlier. "Sorry if I got too carried away. You just… you really make me lose my mind, you know?"
"Same here," you admitted, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair.
He hummed pleased and pulled you closer. "So," he said, as his thumb was circling sweet circles on your ribs. "Do you think we switched again?"
You laughed. "Honestly I have no idea. I wasn't exactly keeping track."
"Yeah, me neither." He nuzzled into your neck. "I was a little distracted."
"Just a little?"
"Okay, extremely. You're very distracting, baby."
You smiled, turning in his arms so you were facing him properly. His eyes were half closed and there was this softness to his expression that made your chest feel tight in the best way. "I don't think I care," you said quietly.
"About the luck?"
"Yeah, I mean I thought I did. I thought it was this whole big thing we had to figure out, but now I'm just like..." You trailed off not sure how to explain it.
"You're like what?" He was really looking at you now and his hand came down to reach yours and give a light hearted kiss on your palm.
"I don't know. I think maybe I had it backwards. I thought losing my luck was the worst thing that could happen to me, but then I met you and —" You stopped feeling your face heat up. "That sounds so cheesy."
"No, keep going. I wanna hear this." He was grinning now, that charming asshole grin.
"I'm not gonna keep going if you're gonna be smug about it."
"Smug? I'm not being smug," he smirked, teasing you.
"You're absolutely being smug."
"Okay, maybe a little." He kissed the tip of your nose. "But seriously. Keep going."
You sighed but you were smiling too. "I just mean... meeting you was lucky. Even if everything else fell apart. Meeting you made all of it worth it."
His expression did something vulnerable and a little overwhelmed like he wasn't expecting you to say that. His hand was on your face and his thumb was brushing over your cheek. "Yeah?" he said quietly.
"Yeah."
"You mean that?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."
He was quiet for a second, just looking at you, and then he pulled you closer and kissed you. It was different from before, just sweet and slow. "I'm in love with you," he said when he pulled back. "Just so you know."
Your breath caught. "What?"
"I'm in love with you." He said it again. "I think I have been for a while. Since before the showcase, probably. Maybe since you showed up soaking wet with that broken umbrella and got in my car without even thinking about it. Hell I fell in love with you at that ball even though you were wearing a mask and I didn't know your name."
"Jungwon—"
"I know everything is messy," he continued talking faster now like he was worried you'd interrupt. "And I know everything's been kinda insane with the luck thing and you leaving and me being a mess about it, but I don't care. I'm in love with you. And I just, I wanted you to know that." You stared at him. Your heart was doing something cartwheels and your eyes were getting hot, and you didn't know what to say. "You don't have to say it back by the way," he added quickly. "I'm not — this isn't me trying to pressure you or anything. I just wanted to tell you because it's true."
"You're an idiot," you said and your voice was shaking.
He blinked. "That's not usually the response —"
"I'm in love with you too, you idiot."
His face broke into the biggest smile you'd ever seen. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Obviously. Why do you think I came back?"
"I don't know, I thought maybe you just really liked my pancakes." You laughed, and it came out wet because apparently you were crying now, and he kissed you again, still grinning against your mouth. "God, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he mumbled between kisses. "Luck or no luck, I don't care. You're it for me, you know that?"
"Stop, don't say that..."
"I'm serious, baby. You're it."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, you're it for me too." He made this sound like a laugh but still a sigh and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his hips, his hands settling on your waist. You could feel him already starting to get hard again beneath you, which was honestly impressive considering you'd literally just finished. "Again?" you said, raising an eyebrow.
"What? You're naked and sitting on me and you just said you're in love with me. What did you expect?"
"Yeah, okay, fair." You giggled.
"Mhm. So what do you say, my love? Round two?"
"You're insatiable."
"Only for you, baby."
And, well, turns out the universe has a sense of humor after all.
The band blew up, like actually blew up. ENHYPEN's live album hit streaming platforms and within a month they were getting requests for festival appearances and opening slots for bigger acts. Jeonghan called it the fastest trajectory I've ever seen for a new signing which Jungwon pretended to be cool about but you caught him grinning at his phone for like twenty minutes after that call. They did a small tour but sold out every show. Sunghoon broke another drumstick on stage and the fan video went viral. Jake started getting recognized at coffee shops. Heeseung got approached about a solo EP. Jay bought a car, which he immediately regretted because parking in the city is a nightmare but he was too proud to admit it.
And Jungwon? Jungwon was in his element. Managing them and keeping them on schedule, negotiating with venues and doing all the behind the scenes stuff that nobody sees but makes everything actually work. He was really good at it and watching him do his thing, watching him be confident and competent and completely in control, was honestly kind of hot. As for you, Jeonghan kept his word. He got you an interview with HYBE's events division and you walked in with a portfolio of every event you'd ever planned, including the disastrous masquerade ball, because fuck it, you organized that thing and it looked incredible even if it ended badly. They hired you on the spot with a decent salary and actual benefits. You were so back.
The apartment became both of yours pretty quickly. You'd officially moved in as a girlfriend about a month after and it was kind of seamless in a way that would've freaked you out before but now just felt right. Your plant claimed the windowsill in the living room and your books took over half the shelf. Your toothbrush lived next to his in the bathroom. He cleared out two drawers for you without asking and you bought matching Pokémon mugs as a joke except now you both used them every morning.
Sunoo came over at least twice a week usually to raid your fridge and complain about his dating life. He and the band got along great, which you should've predicted because Sunoo gets along with everyone. Sometimes you'd come home to find him and Sunghoon arguing about anything on the couch while Jungwon made dinner. It felt like family, the kind of family you choose.
But here's the weird part and you noticed it first, though Jungwon figured it out around the same time — the luck thing evened out completely. You weren't absurdly lucky anymore and he wasn't cosmically cursed. You were both just... average. The kind of normal where sometimes you'd find a twenty in your coat pocket and sometimes your card would decline at the grocery store for no reason. Sometimes Jungwon would hit every green light on the way to the studio and sometimes the subway would break down and make him late. One time you were running to catch the train and you tripped on the platform and Jungwon caught your arm at the exact same second. You both stopped and looked at each other and started laughing because what were the odds? Bad luck canceled out by good luck, or maybe good luck canceled out by bad luck, or maybe it was just two people in the same place at the same time and that was enough.
You were both at the amusement park on the edge of the city one saturday, those amusement parks with rides that were just rickety enough to be fun and overpriced carnival games that nobody ever wins. Jungwon showed up at noon with tickets already purchased and this grin on his face like he was about to surprise you with something amazing. And, well, it was a good day. You went on the ferris wheel first because he insisted, and at the top he kissed you with the whole city spread out below and it was corny as hell but you didn't care. You played one of those rigged basketball games and he missed every single shot and the guy running the booth felt so bad he gave you a stuffed bear anyway. You got soft pretzels that were too salty and lemonade that was too sweet and wandered around just talking about nothing, his hand in yours the whole time.
Later, when the sun was starting to set and the park lights were coming on, you were walking past the games and food stalls when you saw Madame Clarisse. She was set up at a small table near the back of the park with the same jeweled mask, same rings on every finger, same sign that said Palm Reading - $10. There was no line, though. She was just sitting there shuffling a deck of tarot cards and when you walked past she looked up and your eyes met. She smiled like she'd known all along how this would turn out.
You stopped walking and Jungwon noticed after a second and turned back. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you said, still looking at her. "I just — do you remember the fortune teller? From the ball?"
"The one who said your luck was running out?"
"Yeah. That's her."
He followed your gaze and when he saw her his eyebrows went up. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Madame Clarisse gave a little wave. You couldn't help it so you waved back. "Should we—" Jungwon started.
"No," you said already pulling him away. "I think we're good."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I don't need her to tell me anything. I already know."
"Know what?"
You looked at him, at his ridiculous windswept hair and his easy smile and the way he was looking at you like you were the best part of his entire day. "That I got lucky," you said.
He laughed. "That's terrible."
"I know."
"I love you, you know?"
"Yeah, I know that too."
He kissed you then, right there in the middle of the amusement park. "Come on," he said. "I want to win you something at one of these rigged games."
"You're going to lose all your money."
"Not if I get lucky."
You walked away hand in hand, and behind you Madame Clarisse went back to her cards still smiling. You thought about all of it: the ball, that first kiss, the broken umbrella, the month you spent convinced the universe hated you, the moment you almost got on a train and left everything behind. You thought about luck and cosmic balance and fortune tellers who saw things coming before you did. But mostly you just thought about the way Jungwon's hand felt in yours, the way he looked at you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him. The way you'd kissed a stranger in a mask and somehow ended up here, with him, exactly where you were supposed to be.
Maybe the universe had a sense of humor after all. Or maybe some things were always meant to happen, luck or no luck. Either way, you weren't complaining. Just my luck, you thought. Just my luck.
> warnings — rom-com, humor, fluff and smut, reader is in a constant state of stress, descriptions of a small panic attack, heeseung is referred to as woody (it makes sense i swear), ariana grande is mentioned a handful of times, slight angst (for the plot yk), lots of refrences to marriage and getting married (this one might be obvious) // p in v, oral f! receiving, soft sex, missionary, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink
> notes — my first published fic on this blog… gulp. kinda nervous. but please enjoy me spreading the blonde heeseung agenda. also i think you can tell that i like ariana grande after you read this.. still. i really hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. reblogs are so so appreciated and i love to hear from you guys!
What do you do when your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend invite you to their wedding?
You ignore it. You don’t go, because, really, why would you? You don’t owe them some false sense of forgiveness simply because they assume enough time has passed for there to be no hard feelings. Any rational person knows that.
But…you are a people pleaser to the highest degree. It’s a trait that your mom used to say made you so good while your dad mumbled how it would get you in trouble one day. Seems one of them was right.
So now you’re sitting at the farthest corner table of the massive venue, a glass of wine swirling in your hand as the best-man gives his speech. He says something about the obstacles the couple overcame, how they managed to make something beautiful out of a bad situation.
The bad situation, of course, being you.
You aren’t sure how someone is able to make cheating on their girlfriend of six years with her childhood best friend seem like some kind of detour to getting a happy ending, but they do. And now people are cooing at it like their story is something out of a shitty rom-com on the Hallmark channel. You don’t miss the way people glance back at you either, like they’re waiting for you to either scream or cry. Maybe both. You just shoot them tight smiles, fingers tightening around your glass like it’ll ground you. (Newsflash, it doesn't.)
The night continues like that. You, sitting in the back corner wondering why you even came while people shoot you sympathetic looks. It’s kind of pathetic honestly. You should probably leave.
You can see Luke up there with Mandy, her shoulders shaking when she laughs at something he says. He looks at her differently than how he looked at you. He looks at her like she’s the gravity holding him onto earth–like he’d move the moon and stars if she simply asked. It’s sickening and…a little hurtful. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.
Sometimes you wonder how you didn’t see it. Looking back, it was obvious. All the lingering looks. The way Luke always made an excuse as to why he couldn’t come over when Mandy was in town. They barely even tried to hide it and you still hadn’t seen it.
You sigh, sinking further into your chair. You wish this wine was stronger. You wish you hadn’t come. You wish–
“If you scoot down any more you’re going to fall off your chair.”
You blink, the sudden voice catching you off guard. You weren’t aware anyone was even behind you considering the majority of the attendees were either interacting with family-friends or dancing in the center of the room. The thought of a stranger seeing you like this should make you straighten up. It should make you mumble out a soft apology and then try not to die from mortification.
But, instead, all you can manage is a soft, “True.”
You don’t try to sit up. You don’t turn to look at him. You just stay frozen, your eyebrows knitted and lips twisted in a painful grimace, watching as Luke feeds Mandy a piece of cake. Strawberry, of course. Your mutual favorite, The one you’d bonded with him over when you’d first met.
The stranger doesn’t say anything else. Just quietly slips into the open seat next to you. The one covered in crumbs left by one of Luke’s younger cousins. You’d met the kid back when you and Luke were still together. He was one of those obnoxious kids always covered in a mysterious sticky substance with constant red rimmed lips. You couldn’t stand him back then, and you still can’t now. So it seems only fitting that you’d end up in the seat next to him.
Silence stretches again, not uncomfortable, but definitely not comfortable either. Just there. Just kind of awkward. Like you’re two middle schoolers at a school dance together waiting to see who makes the first move.
“So,” The stranger starts again, his voice casual and low, like you’re two best friends catching up. “Which one is it?”
Your gaze flicks over to him lazily, eyes catching on the side of his face. His hair falls over his eyes effortlessly, blonde strands framing him in that casually messy kind of way only a few men can pull off. He’s not looking at you, which your partially grateful for, and instead his eyes are trained where yours once were. On them.
But he isn’t looking at them like they’re the cutest thing he’d ever seen like everyone else is. In fact, you think he might be glaring at them. It nearly tugs a smile at your lips. At least you aren’t the only one here with a grudge.
You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the way your lower spine has begun to slightly ache from your position. “Both,” You mumble, pulling your eyes away from him again. “You?”
He takes a moment to respond, like he’s deciding if he wants to answer. You think it’s only fair he does considering you did, but maybe he was trying to continue this mysterious cool guy act he had going on. You don’t really care either way.
He huffs out a breath, lips quirking slightly at the corners. “Neither.”
That catches your attention, because he says it like it’s a joke. Like he knows something you don’t. You straighten up finally, trying to pretend it’s because you wanted to and not because your back was starting to ache something mean.
He looks at you then, brown eyes glowing even under the dim lights. He looks…dangerous, as cringe inducing as that is. Like he’s playing a prank and you’re a part of it. Whether it’s as an accomplice or the punchline, you aren’t sure. You don’t think he is, either.
You squint your eyes at him, crossing your legs in an attempt to look serious. “What’d you say your name was again?”
He shrugs, fixing his tie like he’s attempting to be casual, but you know it’s because it’s hanging loosely across his neck in a way that screams i’m a grown man who can’t tie a tie. “What do you want it to be?”
You blink, your back hitting the seat when you lean back. It’s not like you’ve never had any weird interactions with people before. You were an awkward kid in high school and college, so bad interactions were kind of your thing. But this is different. This isn’t an uncomfortable game of spin-the-bottle that ends with your lip bleeding and a mutual agreement to avoid each other for the rest of your lives, this is something you aren’t sure how to navigate. You really aren’t even sure how you would go about attempting to.
You hum, blinking lazily. “I want you to just tell me,” You mumble, heeled foot tapping against the floor. “But I also know professional wedding crashers don’t usually share that information.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, his hand covering his eyes for a moment before falling back at his side. He smiles at you, lips revealing his teeth in a way that makes your stomach turn, even though it really shouldn’t. “You’re observant.” He mumbles, like he was expecting you to catch him. Like he wanted you to.
“Yeah, well,” you shrug, taking another sip of your wine, “I know everyone here except for you.”
“What if I’m the brides super extended twice removed uncle?”
You don’t even spare him a glance. “You’re not.”
A beat passes, like he’s trying to decide where he wants to take the conversation. You think he wants to ask you why you’re so miserable back here, what you’d meant when you said both earlier. But he doesn’t. Instead he just stands and offers a hand to you without a word.
You look up at him, tie hanging at an angle against his neck despite his attempt at fixing it earlier, lips curved into a smooth smirk like he knows what you’ll do next, brown eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite place.
You shouldn't take his hand. You should leave and pretend none of this ever happened and go back to living your life.
But instead, for reasons you’ll claim as a strange lapse in judgment later on, your hand finds his. You let him pull you onto your feet, don’t protest when he maneuvers so he’s holding your waist. Don’t make a noise when he saunters onto the dance floor with you, making sure you’re right in Luke and Mandy’s view.
“What’re you doing?” You ask, albeit a little breathless. The stranger just hums, his hands finding your waist again, more firm this time–confident. You can see Luke watching you from the corner of your eye, his nose scrunched in that way it always does when something confuses him. Mandy’s too busy talking to one of your old mutual friends, one of the many who had chosen her in the breakup and not you.
The sight of it makes you frown slightly. You focus back on the blonde man in front of you again, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach that never seems to leave. His lips are twisted upwards, staring at you like he can see right through you. Like maybe this was the entire reason he’d come tonight.
“Do you trust me?” He asks, loud enough that only you can hear it. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips, and then up again. Like he’s studying your reactions.
You frown, letting your arms wrap around his neck. “Absolutley not.”
He hums, low and deep, leaning into you in a way that has your head spinning. “Good.”
And then his lips are on yours, kissing you slow and deep. It’s the kind of kiss that screams desperation, one that should mean nothing–but means everything. And it’s strange, because you should pull away. Should slap him for doing this before he even tells you his name. But you don’t do any of that. Instead, you melt into it and kiss him back just as hungrily.
His lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather, but your own lipgloss does good to mask it. One of his hands trails from your waist to your cheek, tilting your face and forcing you impossibly closer. His tongue slips out for a brief moment, smoothing against your lip, and you swear you die right there.
It’s messy and too much but somehow not enough. He kisses you like a man-starved, and it nearly makes your head spin.
You aren’t sure who pulls away first, all you know is that when you do your chest is heaving and Luke and Mandy are speedwalking away towards something you can’t see.
You blink after a moment, the post-kiss fog clearing in your brain and reminding you that you do not know this man.
And yet he just kissed you like he’d been wanting to do it for years.
You want to be angry, you want to scream and ask him what the fuck is wrong with him. But instead, you laugh. A real, chest laugh that comes from somewhere deep in your stomach. He’s smiling too, the tips of his ears a fiery red. The first sign that he’s at least somewhat capable of embarrassment and not completely immune to every human emotion aside from spontaneity.
“You’re insane.” It comes out teasing, like something you’d say in passing to a friend, but you mean it.
He just shrugs, the hand still attached to your waist tightening just slightly. You can feel his fingers digging into your skin, but it isn’t painful. Just a reminder that he was there. That he’d just kissed you breathless after meeting you barely ten minutes ago.
“It’s charming, though, right?” He asks, eyes flickering behind you when some kid, you’re assuming Luke’s sticky cousin, starts crying.
You snort, rolling your eyes. “Charmings one word for it.”
“Come on,” He insists, “If I hadn’t shown up you would’ve still been sinking to the floor in the corner like some kind of sad clay statue.”
You raise a brow, “Okay, weird comparison.” You mumble, doing your best to ignore the smile threatening to break through again. “But…you still haven’t told me your name.”
He nods, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like the fact he was keeping his identity a secret from you was something he always did. It was weird, but, also kind of exciting?
God, you’ve got serious issues.
“Would it make you feel better if I just came up with one?”
You raise a brow, “Is it your real one?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Your eyes narrow suspiciously, tongue pushing against your cheek in frustration. You don’t understand why he’s being so stingy about it. What kind of person sees kissing as less intimate then telling you his name? “If I tell you my name will you tell me yours?” You ask.
He lets out a breathy laugh, that cheeky smile he’s been sporting since you kissed never wavering. “No promises.”
You weigh your options in your mind. On one hand, you tell him your name and he keeps up this weird game of his and he gets the upper hand. On the other, you don’t tell him your name and you gain nothing and spend the rest of the night wondering what would’ve happened if you just told him. Plus, what if he’s feeling extra nice and decides to just tell you?
Either way, you were getting pretty sick of referring to him as the sexy stranger.
“Y/N,” You murmur, tone loud enough so he can hear over the sickeningly romantic music blasting through the venue speakers. Some sixties song you’d never heard before. “My name.”
He pauses, like the fact that you’d actually told him shocks him, and for the first time that smile of his falters. For some reason, it feels like a mini victory. But, he picks himself back up just as quickly, and suddenly it feels like you imagined all of it.
“Y/N,” he mumbles like he’s testing the name on his tongue. “Suits you.”
You shift on your feet, handle clasping together behind his neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, searching his face like you’ll find something in it. An answer, maybe. An explanation as to who he was when he wasn’t doing whatever the hell this was.
“It means it’s pretty,” He says easily, eyes never leaving yours, “And it suits you.”
You swallow, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. He says it so easily, like it’s an undeniable fact that he doesn’t even need to think twice about. Like saying the sky is blue. You hate that it makes your cheeks flush and butterflies light up in your stomach.
You let out a breath, trying to calm your buzzing nerves. “Whatever,” You mumble, “I told you mine. Your turn.”
He stares at you silently, like he’s studying you. Trying to piece together what the best course of action would be. To you, it’s obvious. Tell you his name, and then…yeah. You’d figure it out from there. But the only way things could progress was if you knew the most basic piece of information about him.
He just smiles, hands sliding up your arms looped around his neck and grabbing your wrists gently. He pulls them down, letting one fall down to your side and intertwining his own with the other.
“How would you feel about eating processed food that’ll probably kill us before we turn forty?” He asks, completely avoiding the topic. You part your lips to argue with him on it, ask him why you should go with him when he won’t even tell you his name, but nothing comes out. When he tugs you gently behind him, you don’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the building and into the empty parking lot.
The suns just barely began to set, casting the sky in different shades of pink and yellow. The moon fades slightly into the sky, not fully showing, but making its presence known. The air’s got a sharp chill to it, one that makes goosebumps rise across your skin, but isn’t completely unbearable.
“Where are we going?” You ask, heels clicking frantically against the pavement as he drags you away from your past. Away from worlds of hurt and towards something new. Something that feels too real for what it is.
You should be scared. You don’t really know—him, and yet you’re letting him lead you away from civilization. Even if that civilization is the families of the worst people you know.
He glances back at you, shrugging his shoulders casually. “You’re hungry, right?”
“I guess—”
He hums, finally stopping in front of a sleek black car. “Then let’s go eat.”
You blink, watching as he opens the passenger door for you and waits for you to step in.
Your lips twist uncomfortably, gaze switching between the suspiciously nice car and him. “This is yours?” You ask. You don’t mean for it to come out so accusatory, but what else were you supposed to think? The man crashes weddings for fun. Not exactly rich-and-has-his-life-together behavior.
He tilts his head slightly, leaning against the door. “What? I don’t look I could own a car like this?” He asks playfully. You know he’s teasing you, but it still makes your skin bristle.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” You say sharply, glaring at him through your lashes.
He just chuckles, gesturing towards the open door once again. “Come on,” He mumbles, eyes glinting playfully. “Or don’t. I can’t make you do anything.”
Part of you knows the sensible thing to do would be to go back into that building and pretend the last half an hour never happened. Go back to watching Luke and fucking Mandy be happy and in love as if they hadn’t stomped all over you to get there.
You get into the car without any more hesitance.
He smirks, shutting the door behind you and walking around the front to get to the driver's seat.
You let yourself look around as he does. A yellow tree air freshener hangs off of the rearview mirror—typical of a man really—and there’s a small collection of CD’s next to your feet.
You pick them up mindlessly when he finally slides in next to you, flipping through them like they might have his name engraved into them. (They don’t.)
There’s some stuff you kind of expected, like Queen and Metallica. Some Indie 2000’s band that people only listened to so they could feel different. But only one catches your eye.
“Ariana Grande? Really?” You snort, holding up the disc. Ariana Grande’s ‘My Everything’ sits between your fingers, her iconic stool photo shining back at you. You remember you’d tried to recreate it in middle school and sprained your ankle. Safe to say, lessons were learned that day.
He doesn’t even flinch, just plucks it out of your hands and pushes it into the car’s built in cd player. You think it’s kind of cute that he still uses it despite the fact his car is new enough to have an apple carplay screen.
“Love Me Harder is one of the best songs ever made,” He says, tongue swiping over his lips as he shoots you a look from the corner of his eye. You don’t argue, because, yeah, it is. You’re just a little shocked that he would think so.
He puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking space with ease, glancing behind him with a practiced confidence. You watch him do it, studying him without shame.
He’s different from anyone you’ve ever met. Mysterious, really, even if it makes you want to roll your eyes until thy get stuck in the back of your head. But there’s something else to him, something that feels nearly familiar. You wrack your brain to try to remember, but nothing comes up.
His eyes catch yours, that same, cunning grin curling into his lips. The one that made your stomach turn and nerves fry when he’d first sat down with you at the beginning of the night. The same one he’d given you when he’d kissed you breathless like you were two lovers and not two strangers.
And it’s then that you realize that you are irrevocably and extremely royally screwed.
When you’d gotten up this morning you expected the night to end the way they usually do nowadays. You, lying in your bed, doomscrolling until questionable hours of the night, hating yourself for it but still continuing to do so. Although this time you imagined there’d probably be some tears involved, because you are nothing if not overly sensitive. And they wouldn't be pretty tears either, no, they'd be ugly, fat boulders rolling down your cheeks like they were claiming a permanent space over your heart.
But that doesn't happen. Instead, you’re sitting on a suspiciously damp curb outside of some run-down Taco Bell infested with teenagers, eating a soft taco while what you’re really hoping is just mud seeps into your dress.
Blondie, what you’ve chosen to call him until you can come up with something better, sits beside you. His legs are stretched out into the street, face illuminated by the glowing neon Open sign as he takes a sip of his Baja Blast.
He's pretty in a way that should be illegal. Features fitting together like a finished puzzle, the kind of boy with a smile women pray their children have.
The drive here hadn't been uncomfortable, mostly because he seemed to be good at making small talk into some kind of casual conversation. Where you would've been awkward, he seems smooth. It's kind of impressive, but you also envy the talent.
He glances at you, placing his cup beside him and leaning back on his hands. “So, what happened?”
You blink. You know he’s asking about Luke and Mandy–about why you were there if you clearly had some kind of bitter history with them. But the truth is…you aren’t even sure yourself. Maybe deep down you were just some kind of masochist who enjoyed the ache seeing them brought to your heart. Or maybe you just wanted to feel like you finally had the upper hand when you all know you don’t. Either way, every outcome ended with you losing.
You lean your elbows onto your knees, hair falling over your shoulder as you turn your face towards him. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t respond. Just stares at you knowingly, head tilting until his ear nearly brushes his shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say, Really? Playing dumb?
You hate that you break so easily.
You sigh, curling further into yourself, like that’ll make the story any less painful. Your lips tighten together, eyes falling to the floor. You don’t even know where to start. Do you tell him about meeting Mandy in middle school? How the two of you became an extension of eachother, two souls intertwined into one?
Or do you tell him about how you met Luke your freshman year of college? How he was the first boy to really sweep you off your feet and show you what it felt like to really love someone?
Or do you start at that day last year when you walked in on them going at it like rabbits in your bed?
All options were equally as painful.
You grip the fabric of your dress uncomfortably, like maybe it'll ground you. “Mandy was my best friend,” You start, eyes glazing over just like they always do when you say this story aloud. “Luke was my boyfriend. One day I came home and…yeah. And now they’re getting married and I'm…still alone.” You mean to say it like a joke, like your loneliness doesn't actually bother you, but your voice cracks and sounds way too small to be convincing.
Blondie just listens. Doesn’t push, doesn’t ask any questions. Just a stable presence listening to you without suffocating you.
Your hands shake slightly, eyes beginning to blur with unshed tears that you force back. Your throat gets that awful aching feeling it always does when you’re about to cry. You suck in a sharp breath in an attempt to get your feelings in check, and if Blondie notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.
Instead, his gaze flicks up to the sky. There aren’t many stars out, mostly because you're still relatively close to the city and normally Taco Bell’s don't have the northern lights above them, but he still studies it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
The silence stretches languidly, a tension in the air that you can’t help but feel like you caused. You probably made him uncomfortable, and he was deciding the best way to tell you he’s leaving you here and to find your own way home. Which is fine, but you should probably go ahead and call Sunoo and ask him to pick you up.
You’re reaching for your phone when he responds. His tone is the softest you’d heard it all night, hair blowing slightly across his forehead when the breeze picks up. “You’re here with me, right?” He murmurs, eyes anywhere but you.
You watch the side of his face, trying to decide what kind of point he’s hoping to make. Yeah, you’re here with him, but you didn’t mean alone in such a direct way. More in a I-lost-my-bestfriend-and-boyfriend-and-can’t-get-over-it kind of way. Still, you go along with him. “I guess,” You hum, sniffling softly. The tears forming in your eyes have finally begun to subside.
He smiles softly, letting his gaze meet yours. His eyes are warm, staring into your own like melted pools of honey. “Then you’re not alone.” He murmurs, knocking your shoulder with his. He's got this proud look in his eyes--like he just gave some big speech on accepting your life and whatnot.
You laugh, shaking your head. You sit up straighter, letting your hands replace your elbows on your knees. “Is that your way of comforting me?” You ask.
He just shrugs, gesturing to you softly. “You’re not crying anymore, are you?”
Your lips part, because, no, you aren’t crying anymore. In fact, the tight feeling in your chest has been replaced by something lighter. Something more warm and less all-consuming.
You lean back on your hands, letting your gaze fall up to the sky. “No,” You mumble, “I guess I’m not.”
The air shifts after that, tension slipping into something softer. Something comfortable. Something that nearly makes you forget you just met him and haven’t known him for years.
You crumble your wrapper (it'd been sitting discarded next to you and nearly flew away multiple times), into a ball and stuff it into the paper bag. With it out of the way, you allow yourself to scoot closer to him. Not close enough that you’re touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat emitting from his body. Can feel his gaze on you as you shift, eyes filled with curiosity and something else you can’t quite name.
“How’s it fair that I keep telling you about myself while you get to keep all your secrets?” You ask, eyebrows knit together. You aren’t angry about it, not anymore at least. Now it’s just confusing. Like he’s hiding things from you for a reason and not just because he managed to sneak into a wedding.
He’s silent, like he’s thinking about what his next play should be. You’ve noticed he does that a lot. Plans what he's going to say before he does, like he’s trying to decide what’s acceptable and what’s not.
“I like Toy Story,” He mumbles, turning lazily towards you. “Does that help?"
You pretend to think it over for a moment, leaning your chin into your palm. “Depends,” You shrug, dragging the word out. “Which movies your favorite?”
He doesn’t even blink when he responds. “The third one, of course," He scoffs, like he's offended you even asked. "That plot twist with Latso’s insane. And the monkey scene? Terrifying.”
You shrug, lips twisting thoughtfully. “True, but the scene of Jessie being thrown out in the second movie is the most iconic moment in all of the films. That song never fails to make me cry.”
He has a physical reaction at the mention of the scene, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping at his heart like he’s in pain. “Don’t mention that song around me again or I swear I’ll throw up.”
You laugh, throwing your head back and pushing his shoulder. He grins at the contact, teeth flashing and upper lip curling slightly.
“Okay, but can we both agree the ending of the fourth one was awful?” You scoff, hands gesturing wildly, “In what world would Woody leave behind his friends and his kid?”
He nods wildly in agreement, snapping his fingers like you've just said something Nobel Peace Prize worthy. “Oh, absolutely. I just pretend that movie doesn’t exist. I can’t watch them ruin Woody’s character like that.”
You kiss your teeth, definitely too worked up over a kids movie, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when the man next to you starts to go into a deep dive into Latso’s character and how he was just a really misunderstood bear with abandonment issues.
You listen intently, genuinely interested. You’ve never met someone with such strong opinions on an animated bear, but he manages to make it sound so intellectual you almost forget you’re talking about Toy Story.
“You’re really passionate about this, huh?” You tease. He flushes like you’ve just reached out and kissed him, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.
“Is that a bad thing?” He questions softly.
You shake your head, “No,” You draw out, tone low in that playful kind of way. “Just not what I expected.”
He hums, letting his gaze wander over your face and across the space behind you. He tucks his knees closer to his chest, tie hanging helplessly against his neck. “I’m full of surprises.” He says, clearly trying to be cheeky, but his tone is too soft to properly convey it.
You don’t respond, instead copying him and tucking in your knees. Your ankles rest against the curve, arms hugging your legs closer to your body.
The silence fills the space comfortably. You don’t feel any reason to fill it with mindless conversation, not like you normally would. Instead, for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can just be. No expectations, no nothing. Just two people existing in the same space.
“Shit,” He huffs under his breath suddenly. You turn to look at him staring down at his phone, eyebrows furrowed in frustration and thumbs moving frantically over his phone.
You raise a brow, “Something wrong?”
He swallows, taking in a breath and letting his phone fall to his lap. He shoots you a sheepish smile, “Something came up at work,” He tells you bashfully, slapping his hands on his knees as he stands. You follow, the hem of your dress blowing in the wind.
He nods towards his car, “Let me take you home?” He asks, holding out a hand for you.
You glance down at it and resist the urge to tell him that you don’t exactly have many other options right now—not unless you feel like dealing with Sunoo’s attitude for waking him up or paying a ridiculous amount of money for an uber. (Both of which you really don’t feel like doing). But the gesture in itself is sweet as long as you don’t think too hard about giving your address to a man who won’t even tell you his name.
So, after zero to no contemplation, you take his hand and allow him to lead you back to his car. He does the whole gentleman act again, opening your door and all that. Sweet, really.
By the time you tell him your address and he pulls out of the parking lot your eyes are heavy with sleep. Ariana Grande plays gently through the speakers, her voice unfortunately lulling you to sleep. He doesn’t say anything when your head slowly tilts towards the window, nor when your eyes start to drift closed. He just glances at you knowingly, fingers gripping the wheel tightly, overly aware of the road in front of him. He’d always been a bit of a reckless driver, speeding on empty country roads, forgetting to turn on his signal when he changed lanes. But tonight he drives careful. Smooth. Like he's moving something precious.
You don’t even register the car stopping. It’s not until he shakes your shoulder lightly do you stir, your head shooting up and a hand coming to wipe down your face. “I’m up, I’m up,” You mumble, voice slightly coarse.
He grins, one hand resting on the wheel and the other tapping against the center console. “Nice place,” He says, jutting his chin towards the window.
You shrug, too tired to care if he’s teasing or if he means it genuinely. Not like you’d ever be seeing him again anyway. You hum, stretching out your arms.
You look over to him, giving him one last look over, memorizing the small bump on his nose and the prominent curve of his cupid's bow.
This guy, whoever he is, is by far one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. Maybe that’s why you let him kiss you--why you let him take you for shitty fast food despite the risks. Your chest feels hollow at the thought of leaving him—especially because you know the chances of ever seeing him again are slim to none. You can’t even look him up online either, which really sucks and is going to piss Sunoo off when you tell him about all this.
He raises a brow, leaning back in his seat as he watches you. “What is it?” He asks, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping him.
You part your lips to answer, but nothing comes out. How do you say, Oh, you kind of changed my life so now I'm trying to memorize your face so that when I'm old I can tell my kids about the man that should’ve been their father—without sounding like a total creep?
The answer is simple: You can't.
So, instead you just shake your head, letting your gaze fall to the door. “Nothing.”
He doesn’t say anything, just watches as you pull the handle and slip out of the car. The air is chillier now, sending goosebumps up your arms, but you don’t rush inside. Instead, you let your gaze fall back onto him, lingering there like you're hoping for him to do something.
He blinks, shooting you a small smile. One that says more than he’s willing to say out loud. “I’ll see you around?”
You hum, disspointment curling in your chest even though you know it shouldn't. “Yeah,” You murmur, “I’ll see you around, Woody.”
And then you're closing the door and walking away, not even glancing back at him once. It’s not until you're inside and he’s been sitting outside long enough for it to be considered creepy does he realize what you called him.
Woody. Like fucking Toy Story.
And for some reason, he really hopes he’ll be able to hear you say it again.
“Okay, wait, let me get this straight,” Sunoo snorts, head hanging off of the edge of your bed. You can see him watching you through your vanity mirror. “You met some rando guy at the wedding from hell, let him kiss you, take you to eat, and drive you home–all without knowing his name?”
You roll your eyes, smacking your lips together as you apply your last bit of lipgloss. You had an interview for a promotion at work today, one that you’ve been both dreading and unreasonably excited for.
“Yes, that is what I said.” You grumble. It’s only been two days since your encounter with Woody, a fitting nickname in your opinion given his expert analysis on Toy Story, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.
Which shouldn't be all that surprising, considering everything that happened, but it was a serious inconvenience for you at the moment. You had more important things to worry about that didn't include a beautiful blonde man with a sweet smile.
Sunoo rolls onto his tummy, shooting you a glare. “Well, excuse me for trying to wrap my head around all of…that.”
You don't even blink. “You’re excused.”
He rolls his eyes, pushing himself up onto his knees and then maneuvering his position so he’s sitting criss-crossed on your bed. You fluff up your hair again, turning your head from side to side and assessing your makeup. It’s casual, something that says I-tried-but-not-too-hard. Something you've deemed safe for an interview.
“I’m just saying,” Sunoo continues, beginning to scroll mindlessly on his phone, “It’s just not like you. I mean, it took you months before you even let Luke hold your hand.”
You sigh, whipping around and grabbing your computer from your desk. You shove it into your bag roughly, wincing when it catches on a stray paper and rips it slightly. “I know that,” You huff, annoyed and slightly overstimulated, “It’s-I don't know- it just happened!”
Sunoo’s nose scrunches slightly. You can tell he wants to argue, but he’s been your friend since your freshman year of college, so he knows when to push back and when not to. You're grateful for his kind of sixth sense, because if he would’ve said anything else you're not sure your friendship would survive the aftermath.
The office is busy, just like it always is, but today it makes you anxious. Someone walks too closely behind you, making you self-conscious about your pace. Should you speed up? If you did, would it be obvious that you did because of them?
Sunoo walks calmly beside you, Iced Coffee in one hand and phone in the other. He smiles at some reel on his screen, nudging your shoulder to show you. You barely glance at it, letting out a short hum of acknowledgment and going back to gnawing anxiously on your lower lip.
It’s not like you’re super worried. You’ve been working here for five years, head journalist in the sports department for two. The promotion should go to you–but just because it should doesn’t mean it will.
Your stomach knots up again.
By the time you reach the elevators you’re so pale you could be Dracula’s daughter. Sweat collects on your hands, and, wow is it getting hot in here?
“Sunoo,” You manage to grit out, eyes wide with panic. “I think I’m dying.”
He looks up from his phone then, and when his eyes land on you his expression immediately turns serious.
“Y/N,” He says, not harsh—just to the point. “You are not going to die because of an interview. You are going to go answer some bullshit questions about things you know you excel at, and then we’re going to celebrate at that coffee shop off of 5th Street, okay?”
You nod shakily, breathing still a little uneven. “Okay, okay, okay,” You mumble. “I got this.”
He nods, placing a hand on your arm, “You got this.”
God, you really hope you do.
The interview is over as quickly as it started. You were shaking the whole time admittedly, giving practiced answers and praying your voice doesn’t crack. (It did—but only once. So kind of a win but also not?)
Sunoo, as promised, takes you to coffee after. The cafe’s barely a block away from your work, and you hate to admit that you’ve definitely spent more money here the necessary.
The scent of coffee beans and steamed milk hits your nose when you push the door open. Most people are still at work or school, so it’s relatively empty aside from a few stragglers.
“We’ll sit over there,” Sunoo says, lazily pointing towards a table by the back. It’s the same one you always sit at—one you’d joked had been specifically made for late night work sessions and early morning complaints.
You take your seats across from each other, your legs crossed and his outstretched until they nearly touch your feet.
“So,” He says, drawing out the world playfully. “How do you feel?”
You shrug, bottom lip finding it's place in between your teeth once more. You answered everything how you think they wanted you to, but was that enough? What if they wanted you to go beyond and give answers that were more intellectual than what you did? What if they gave it to that guy who spent 30 minutes perfecting the amount of sugar in his coffee instead of you?
You sigh, shoulders drooping slightly. “I don’t know. Good, I guess? But… also not.”
He raises a brow, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back in his chair. “What's that mean?”
“I’m just anxious, I think. Like, I know I probably did good, but there’s that little part of me that feels like I didn’t.”
Sunoo hums, a puff of air escaping him as he does. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” He mutters, eyes locking onto yours. “You and I both know no one in that office deserves it more than you do.”
“I know.”
He fixes you with a look, chin tilting slightly. “Do you?”
You don’t respond to that. Not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. You’ve always had a knack for overthinking things, even when there was no reason to. That’s why your actions with Woody had been so surprising. Any other time you would’ve burst into flames at the mere thought of letting him kiss you like that, but for some reason you had–and you hadn’t even thought twice about it.
Your leg shakes uncomfortably, toes bouncing against the marble floor. Sunoo seems to sense your discomfort, and despite not wanting to, easily switches the topic.
“Anyway. Let’s talk about something other than your inability to give yourself credit–” He says cheekily, ignoring the glare you shoot at him, “What’re you wearing to Jay's wedding next month?”
You groan, throwing your head back before whipping it right back. “I completely forgot about that!” You cry. With the stress of your interview and whatever had happened last week with Woody your mutual friend’s wedding had completely slipped your mind.
Jay was one of the only friends who had chosen your side after everything blew up with Luke. He, along with Sunoo and one of your other friends Lizzie (Who Jay was now engaged to), had spent months making sure anyone who asked knew exactly what had really happened. They took any chance they could to drag Luke and Mandy through the mud, which you were secretly thankful for. Of course you told them to stop simply because it was the right thing to do, but inside you were cheering them on. Not that you’d ever tell them that.
“Wow,” Sunoo laughs, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth. “You really have been distracted then.”
You resist the urge to bury your head in your hands. “What am I even supposed to wear? I know Lizzie said she has a specific aesthetic in mind but I doubt I own anything with the exact same shade of pink as her fucking baby blanket.”
Sunoo shrugs, head tilting slightly. “Don’t think so hard about it.” He says, “I’m sure they’ll have something at the mall.”
Your nose scrunches, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge. “Whatever,” You huff, “I’ll probably just borrow something from someone.”
The conversation continues like normal after that, just like two friends having a casual meet together. But admittedly, your mind keeps drifting elsewhere–to a certain nameless blonde with honey brown eyes.
Maybe–just maybe–he’ll be at Jay and Lizzie’s wedding. And even though you know you shouldn’t, you secretly hope he is.
Jay and Lizzie’s wedding is much more comfortable for you than the last one had been. The reception was beautiful--filled with baby pink accents and subtle peonies. Notably, it didn’t make you want to claw your eyes out--and you’re actually able to converse with people instead of sitting in the back like some antisocial outcast.
You laugh at something Sunoo says, head tilting back and wine splashing out of your glass. Lizzie and Jay are somewhere on the dance floor, looking at each other like how people do when they’ve met their person. It’s sweet, really. There isn’t anybody who deserves their happy ending more than them.
You lean into Sunoo, raising your voice as you stumble slightly on your feet. You weren't exactly tipsy, just bordering between the laand of clear minded and not. “I’m gonna go get another drink,” You tell him.
He nods, waving you off and continuing his conversation with an old friend from College–Soobin. You liked Soobin. He was funny and pretty in that boy-next-door kind of way, but he's always felt too elusive for you. The kind of man who seeped through your fingers like sand.
You weave through the countless bodies, mumbling apologies when you bump someone's shoulder. The open bar is located near the back corner, lined with multiple men trying to flirt with uninterested women. The sights more amusing than anything, really.
You squeeze through a couple, ignoring the man's glare and shooting the girl a subtle wink. She whispers a quiet thank you, grabbing her fruity cocktail and making her escape back to her friends.
It takes a moment for the bartender to notice you, but he shoots you a practiced grin when he does, notepad already in hand. “And what can I get for you, pretty lady?”
You laugh louder than intended, face flushing with heat. “A Strawberry Daquiri, maybe? Something light.”
He laughs, and you can tell it’s meant to be smooth, but it comes off wrong. Doesn’t make warmth bloom in your chest, doesn’t make you want to hear it again and again. Just lands far, far away from you.
“Usually something like that takes me awhile" He says slowly, leaning over the counter slightly. "But for you? I'll be faster then lightning." He winks once, then swirls around on his foot and attends to the man across the bar. You watch him go, chin resting in your hand, debating if you felt flattered or not.
“A Strawberry Daquiri? Really?”
It takes a moment for you to even register someone’s talking to you, and even longer for you to register who it is. You blink, whipping your head to the side. Woody’s standing there staring at the menu, strands of blonde hair falling over his forehead. He looks the same as he did the night you met him–loose tie, cheeky smile. The very same man you’d been thinking about before bed every night.
You stand up straighter, resting an arm against the counter and facing your body towards him. “What are you doing here?” You mean for it to come off serious and demanding, but your underlying relief slips through like waves in an open current.
He looks towards you lazily, like you were the weird one for asking. “Could ask you the same thing.”
You squint your eyes at him, “The bride and groom are my friends.”
He just grins, eyes shining at you in that way that you know means trouble. “Maybe I know them too.”
“You don’t.”
He shoots back quickly. “How are you so sure?”
Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Something about him is so infuriating it literally puts your brain on pause. You huff, rolling your eyes slightly. “You’re annoying.”
He lets out a low hum, resting his hip on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “And yet you’re still talking to me.”
You want to deny him-- say it was because you were waiting for your drink and he was there, but you know that’s a weak lie. You know it’s because you’d been secretly hoping he’d show up, and now that he had, leaving his side was the last thing on your mind.
You don’t respond, instead just shrugging and turning away from him. You focus your eyes to the front, watching as the bartender moves swiftly between taking orders and making drinks. You feel Woody take a step closer to you, the scent of his cologne making your senses go blind. He smells like cedar and linen, subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone not paying close attention. But that’s exactly the problem–you can’t stop paying attention to him.
The bartender returns with your drink, shooting you a wink when he hands it over, one you barely notice. Instead, you're trying to ignore the way Woody’s mere presence makes your nerves light on fire and goosebumps rise against your skin.
“He was flirting with you.” He smirks, nudging your shoulder with his own.
You roll your eyes, stirring your drink with your straw before taking a slow sip. “He definitely wasn’t.”
You push off the counter and begin to walk away, trying to seem nonchalant despite the fire growing beneath your skin. Woody follows you seamlessly, lips curled in a toothy grin, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “He winked at you.”
You turn to him over your shoulder, raising a brow. “So?”
He doesn’t reply to that, just keeps following you closely like he’s afraid of losing you in the crowd.
“Where are you sitting?” You ask, gesturing lamely towards the array of tables. He nods towards one in the back, clearly meant for decoration and not guests. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to hide the way your lips quirk up in a near smile. “Seriously?”
He shakes his head in mock confusion, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What?” He asks, completely serious. “It’s nice and secluded. Away from any prying eyes, if you know what I mean.”
You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, shoulders shaking slightly as you do. “You’re seriously ridiculous.” You mumble, taking his hand and dragging him back towards your own table near the front. He doesn’t argue, but his eyes go wide and the tips of his ears flush a dangerous shade of pink.
Sunoo notices you approaching first, his lips parted over his glass and his eyebrows raised. Soobin is too consumed with something on his phone to even register what's happening around him.
“Guys,” You announce, dropping Woody’s hand and instead using it to present him like your modeling your cat for a cat show. “This is…um…”
You remember then that you don't know his name. The same man that you'd been thinking about every day was the same man who'd rather kiss you then properly introduce himself to you.
“Woody.” He finishes for you, locking his gaze onto yours. “That’s what all my friends call me, at least.”
You blink, nodding softly. “Yeah,” You force yourself not to get lost in his eyes. Try to remind yourself that even though he's looking at you like that--it doesn't mean anything. “Woody.”
“Like Toy Story?” Soobin asks, finally looking away from his phone.
You just ignore him, instead pulling out the chair next to you for him to sit at. He does so easily, slipping into it like he belongs there.
Sunoo gives you a look, one that subtly says, who the fuck is this and why have I never seen him before?
You return it with a look of your own. I’ll tell you later.
The tables tense at first, Soobin and Sunoo clearly trying to adjust to the new setting, but any tension is easily dispelled by Soobin. “But, seriously, did your parents name you after Toy Story?”
Woody laughs, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he does. “Uh, I guess so.” He shrugs, glancing towards you. “They have a pretty weird sense of humor.”
Soobin just hums his agreement, mumbling something about wishing his own parents named him after a disney character.
“So, how do you two know each other?" Sunoo asks, taking a casual sip of his wine. You have to admit, he’s good at getting what he wants without making it seem like that’s what he’s doing. He’s got the whole innocent, curious bystander act down to a T. But you know he’s just nosy and doesn’t know how to mind his own business.
“Uh,” Woody clears his throat, “Work?”
“Righttt,” Sunoo drawls, clearly not believing the lie. “And what exactly is it that you do Woody?”
You swallow uncomfortably, “He’s the…janitor.”
Woody coughs, kicking your shin lightly under the table. “The head janitor,” You continue, “Just got a promotion recently.”
Sunoo nods, still eyeing you both suspiciously, but either he’s too drunk to question you further or he just stopped caring. Either way, you’re thankful.
Conversation flows smoothly after that. The four of you (Well, everybody except Woody, who kept any personal questions as vague as possible), share stories from college and highschool, laughing until your cheeks hurt and the hours blend together like smudges of paint on an old pallet. Speeches are given, drinks are shared, and the music shifts from classy to downright dirty.
There’s a few stragglers on the dance floor, mostly drunk old ladies and their husbands–slow dancing to songs that didn’t call for it. You’re sitting in comfortable silence, pretending to keep up with whatever it is Sunoo and Soobin are deep in conversation about. Something about which disney princess had it the hardest. You think the obvious answer is Belle, but you’d rather not get chewed alive for even thinking about sharing your irrelevant opinion.
Woody sits beside you quietly, eyes glancing at you every so often like he wants to say something. You want to ask him what it is, but your eyes keep drooping slightly and the thought of talking makes your head hurt. Drinking always makes you tired, so you aren’t sure why you keep doing it–especially at public events.
Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder begins to trickle through the speakers, the beginning notes familiar in your ears. Woody practically shoots up at the sound of it, lips parted slightly, staring you down like you’ll move if he looks at you hard enough.
You peak over at him, lips pursued slightly. “What?” You mumble.
He points to the ceiling, knee bouncing in excitement. “The song.” He states.
You stretch out your arms in front of you, confusion written all over your face. “What about it?”
He doesn’t say anything else, instead just grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the dance floor before you can even think about protesting.
Your eyes are wide when you get there, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “What are you doing?” You ask in disbelief. Your body is stiff, glancing around at the people next to you. There's a young girl in her twenties singing along to the song with her friend, the both clearly drunk. And on the other side is a man way too old to still be seeking dates at weddings, but he does so anyway, eyes glued to every woman that walks past him.
Woody shrugs, beginning to nod his head to the beat. “Dancing.”
You snort, a hand coming up to cover your mouth when he starts moving the rest of his body. He’s a good dancer, but you feel awkward standing here watching him like this. He lips the song dramatically, holding an invisible microphone in front of him.
“Oh my God,” You mumble, “You’re so weird.”
He just shrugs, clearly unbothered. “It’s fun,” He says matter-of-factly. “Try it.”
You immediately shake your head, looking towards Sunoo for rescue, but he’s too busy arguing with Soobin to notice your dire calls for help.
When it becomes clear that you'll have to get out of this yourself, you take a deep breath and try to explain without sounding like a total weirdo. “I...can’t,” You state uncomfortably, taking a step back to build much needed space between you. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
Woody doesn’t even flinch when you say that. Instead, he grabs your hand and pulls you closer again. You stumble forward, chest touching his, but he stabilizes you with a hand at your waist. “So?” He says softly, eyes shining. “It’s just me and you.”
He’s right. No one’s paying attention to the two of you, too focused on themselves and what they're doing. But it still doesn’t do much to curve the nerves growing deep in your chest.
You shake your head, “I don’t know–”
He doesn’t let you finish, instead using his free hand to poke your forehead gently. “Stop thinking so much,” He says, beginning to sway around gently, “And just feel the music.”
Your breath catches in your throat, heat crawling up your neck. His words shouldn’t make you feel like this, but for reasons you’d rather push down and ignore forever, they do. And so, you listen.
Your movements are stiff at first, arms mechanical like you’re thinking about everything before you do it. Woody watches with a grin, his tie swaying back and forth with every swing of his hips. You’re surprised it hasn’t given up completely and crumbled onto the floor.
His hands find your waist again, guiding your movements until they're smoother, less like a robot and more like you’re gliding through butter. “There you go,” He chuckles, voice coming out a little breathless.
Your lips quirk up faintly as you get the hang of it, your nerves dissolving until you feel like you’re floating. Woody watches you shamelessly, continuing to mouth the words. He gets on his knees dramatically when the ending chorus comes on, singing into his invisible microphone during The Weeknds lines. When Ariana’s turn comes on again he tilts it towards you with a grin.
You laugh, singing her part and then pulling him back onto his feet. He pretends to stumble dramatically, grabbing onto his shoulder like you’ve hurt him. You just roll your eyes and keep dancing.
You continue like that well into the night. People walk by, shooting you sideways glances, all of which you hardly notice. For the second time, this nameless man has managed to coax you out of your shell, and all without even trying.
Soon enough, the couple does their sendoff, leaving you and all the others outside. Sunoo’s busy getting the uber while you sit on the curb, a hint of a smile on your face that you can’t quite wipe away.
You don’t turn when someone sits besides you, already too aware of who it is.
“So,” He breathes out, whistling low. “Tonight was fun.”
“Yeah,” You agree softly, hugging your knees to your chest. “It was.”
Theres a pause, and then, “You’re a horrible dancer, by the way.”
You elbow him so hard he nearly topples over.
“I'm kidding, I’m kidding! Truce!” He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender.
You glare at him, though there isn’t any resentment behind it. “You’re an asshole.”
He blinks, expression going soft. “An asshole you’d like to give your phone number to?”
That stuns you. Your head shoots up, gaze locking onto his. He looks almost sheepish, eyebrows knit together and hands tapping against his lap.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, giving him a once-over. “I still don’t even know your name.”
He nods, like he’d been expecting rejection. “I know,” He murmurs, “I just…I want it to keep being like this for a while, yeah? Just me and you.”
Just me and you. He says it like it's a fact of nature. Like the two of you would be together well into the future. It's a thought that makes your throat constrict, though you don't know why.
You turn your gaze towards the road. “I don’t see how your name is going to change that.”
He shrugs, copying your actions and staring off into the dark. “Maybe it won’t,” He swallows, adams apple bobbing. “Or maybe it will.”
You cross your arms onto your knees and lean down on them, successfully hiding your face. You should say no. Should stand up, remember what it means to have self-respect, and walk away from him for good. What use is there in getting involved with a man you don’t even really know?
But then your eyes find the side of his face, eyes trailing down until you can see the rise and fall of his chest. In truth, he looks straight out of some cheesy romance novel you’ll read once and then compare every real-life romantic encounter to.
But it isn’t just his looks. It’s him. The way he gets you to open up so easily, pulling you out of your comfort zone without even blinking.
Meeting once was a coincidence. But twice? Maybe…there was something pulling you towards each other that you couldn’t quite see. Something that wants you to memorize all his outlines even if it’ll inevitably end with your undoing.
You sigh, opening your phone and nonchalantly handing your phone to him.
He glances at it, eyes dragging towards you. There’s a sly grin on his face when he takes your phone from you, fingers brushing yours as he does.
“Knew you’d give in.” He teases, typing his contact information.
You scoff, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Don’t get a big head about it.”
“Too late.”
Sunoo approaches then, shoulders curled in on himself, clearly exhausted. “Are you done flirting yet? The Uber’s about to be here and if I don’t get in my bed ASAP someone is going to die.”
You flush, eyes going wide as you shoot him a warning look. “Sunoo.” You hiss.
Woody chuckles, waving you off. “Go ahead,” He nods, “Just text me when you get home, okay?”
“Uh,” You blink, standing and letting Sunoo drag you away. “Yeah, okay. Sure. I can do that.”
Sunoo complains in your ear, something about Soobin ticking him off, but you’re not listening. Instead your head is turned, watching Woody get smaller and smaller the further you get.
You don’t hear from Woody for two weeks. A fact you are painfully aware of, even though you’re trying very hard to seem like you’re not. Sunoo has commented on your apparent inability to sit still, constantly checking your phone like it holds the secret to life. You lie through your teeth every time he points it out, claiming that you’re just anxious to get the results for the promotion.
And while that is true, it’s not why your shoulders sag every time you're met with a notification from your mom instead of the person you actually want to hear from.
It’s not like you care. (You do). He clearly has better things to do than text you, and that’s okay! (You’re seriously starting to lose your mind).
Maybe it would be better if you had some kind of idea of what his day-to-day life looked like, but you don’t. And every time you remember that it’s a painful reminder that the man running circles in your mind is someone you don't actually know, no matter how much you try to act like you do.
You’ve tried to piece him together in your mind more times than you can count. Imagining him behind a desk, making deals over the phone. Or maybe he did something humbler, like volunteering for nonprofits or working at animal shelters. Anything was possible really.
It feels like you’ve begun to make up an entire life for him, one you know isn’t real yet brings a smile to your face every time you imagine him doing whatever task it is you’ve conjured up. Would he be more into movies or books? Did he like his coffee hot or cold? Why was he so obsessed with Ariana Grande?
You sigh, sinking deeper into your pillows. Your phone lays abandoned at your side, screen dimming until it eventually goes dark. Scrolling doesn’t even bring you comfort anymore, which is pretty inconvenient for you considering your mind seems to go a mile a minute without it.
You’d texted him like promised when you got home after Jay and Lizzie’s wedding, telling him that you’d made it home and had had a good time. (You wanted to say had a good time with him–but decided that was probably too forward and quickly deleted it.)
He’d responded immediately something about being glad you made it home and that he hoped to see you again soon.
And then that was that.
No more texts. No more encounters. Just the lingering memory of a man with no name who managed to seep into the cracks of your heart like sticky syrup.
It happens a couple days later. Your phone dings, but you’re so engrossed in writing another article on olympic figure skater Park Sunghoon to really register it.
It’s not until it dings again do you spare it a glance, and there sitting casually against the screen like he hasn’t consumed your life is Woody. Or, more specifically, his text bubble.
You scramble to grab it, ignoring how your computer slides off your lap and instead ripping your phone from the charger. Is it pathetic? Maybe.
Woody: Hey
Woody: Are you busy Saturday?
Your breath catches slightly, bottom lip finding purchase in between your teeth. He’s asking you a very normal, simple question. The kind of thing people ask their friends all the time. So why does it feel so different coming from him?
It takes you longer then you’d like to admit for you to respond. Everything you come up either feels too rehearsed or too casual. Should you use punctuation? He had in his second text but not the first, so that doesn’t exactly give you much to work with.
You eventually settle on something safe.
Y/N: Hi
Y/N: I’m not really sure yet. Why?
It’s a lie. In truth, your only plans on Saturday are sitting on your couch rewatching New Girl. But you don’t want him to know how much of a loser you actually are. Plus, if he can have secrets, you think it’s only fair you do too.
Woody: There’s a wedding this weekend. Friend told me about it…thought you might want to come.
Woody: Only if you’re available, of course. I’m sure you’re veryyy busy.
You scoff, lips curving into a smile. Of course he sees right through you–somehow able to read you even without seeing you.
That’s how you end up in a dress you’d gotten from Goodwill the night before, pacing in your living room while you wait for Woody to pick you up. You’d told him you’d meet him there, but he’d insisted he come get you instead. When you asked why he’d simply said: Pretty ladies shouldn’t be expected to lift a finger when invited somewhere.
And, yeah. You had squealed into your pillow like a middle school girl when he said that. But–whatever. That’s besides the point.
The point is that you’re about to go wedding crashing with a man who you feel like you know everything about when you really know nothing! Put that on a dating podcast.
You freeze when the doorbell rings, eyes going wide and pulse jumping in your ears. You force yourself to take several deep breaths, smoothing down the ends of your hair and doing your best to look casual and not like you were mid panicking.
You creak the door open slowly, and the sight that greets you is one that makes you pause. Woody’s there, same loose tie, same coy smile–but he’s holding flowers. A giant bouquet filled with a rainbow of different colored plants.
He looks almost shy, holding it out to you like he’s scared you’ll reject them. “I didn’t know which ones were your favorites,” He huffs out a laugh through his nose, “So I just got as many as possible.”
“That’s…” You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected, when in reality your heart is spasming. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He shrugs, trying to seem casual, but you can see the pink in his cheeks. “Wasn’t any problem.”
“Still,” You insist, taking the bouquet from him and setting it on your kitchen island. You open your cabinet and pull out a pink vase. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He swallows, watching as you carefully fill the vase with water and then peel the flowers out of their packaging. You do it gently, careful not to bump any of the petals and accidently damage them.
He lets out a shaky breath, like the site of you being so domestic is too much to handle. By the time you look up his gaze is focused behind you, eyes squinted like he’s hyperfocused on anything that doesn’t have to do with you.
Your eyes catch on his tie, noticing the way it dangles low on his chest, clearly strung together in a hurry. You’re used to it by now, but your body moves before your mind can catch up, and then your hands are on him, nifty fingers redoing the knot.
He watches you the whole time, chin tilted slightly and eyes filled with softness and something else. You’re careful not to focus on the fact that you can feel his breath against your nose, or the way his scent overtakes your senses until you can’t think about anything except for him, or the way he’s watching you so intently.
Your fingers loop the tie until it forms into a proper knot, tugging it up his chest until it rests just below his neck. His throat bobs when he swallows, and you faintly feel it against your knuckles.
The air in the room suddenly feels heavy, like a weighted blanket against your chest. You glance up at him, finally allowing yourself to meet his eyes. And, God, how you wish you hadn’t.
It’s one thing to feel his gaze. To know you’re being watched. But seeing it? That's an entirely different thing.
Your breath catches, lips parting just slightly. All you would have to do is push forward the tiniest bit and your lips would meet his. You watch his gaze fall to your lips and linger there for a moment before he forces them back up.
There’s a moment where you’re sure gravity ceases to exist. All that’s left is the undeniable pull between you, the space feeling like water in your lungs and the only relief would be to close it.
“[Y/N],” He mumbles, voice shaking and breathless. He sounds…almost needy. Like this is something he’s thought about a thousand times before and he can’t believe he’s finally living it.
Your own voice isn’t much better when you respond with a quiet, “Mhm?”
“I should tell you–”
You jump when his phone begins to ring in his pocket, cracking through the moment like a bolt of lightning. You pull away from him swiftly, eyes wide and chest nearly heaving. Your entire body burns, from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet.
He curses as he reaches for it, eyes glancing over the screen wearily before he silences it and shoves it back in his pocket.
You do your best to steady your breathing, clearing your throat and smoothing down your dress. “Who was that?” You ask.
His lips curl downwards, eyes flashing with annoyance. "Doesn't matter,” He sighs, extending a hand to you. “You ready to go?”
And because you have limited self-control around him and an inability to say no, you accept it and follow him to his car.
The wedding is big. Like, the kind of wedding that you come to and realize, wow, these people really are in a different tax-bracket than I am. There’s at least a hundred tables, all arranged around a large swan ice sculpture. The walls are covered in glass, showing off the expansive lake outside and the white wooden gazebo. It almost feels like something out of a movie.
You swallow uncomfortably, mouth going dry. You knew what you were signing up for when you’d agreed to come with him, but now that it’s actually happening you’re having some regrets. What if somebody realizes you don’t fit in? Your dress is from Goodwill for God's sake! Meanwhile every other woman here is dressed head to toe in name brands that you’ve never even heard of.
“Uh,” You manage, glancing wearily around the room. You swear you can feel people looking at you. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
He has the audacity to chuckle, head tilting back slightly. You shoot him a pointed glare, arms crossing over your chest. “I’m serious!” You hiss.
“I know you are,” He responds, voice smooth and light. “And that’s exactly why we’re staying.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to make sense of his logic. “That doesn’t even make any sense!”
He shrugs, turning on his heel and making his way to the open bar, leaving you behind. You stand frozen for a moment, still trying to process why the hell you’re here and coming to the conclusion that you should probably call an uber and go home.
You follow him anyway.
This bar isn’t nearly as chaotic as the one at Lizzie and Jay's wedding. It’s classier in a way, full of people drinking 80-year-old wine instead of cheap drug store beer. It’s kind of intimidating, and you can feel the way you shrink in on yourself when someone glances at you for too long.
Woody orders your drinks, but you’re not paying attention. Instead you’re picking at your fingers, wincing every time you pull the skin a little too far.
You’d picked up the habit as a kid, a way to curve your evergrowing anxiousness. But after your mom noticed your hands turning into a mini crime scene she’d quickly put a stop to the habit. But, sometimes, when you felt so overwhelmed you were sure you were going to pass out and die, you’d let yourself indulge. Anything to help ground you.
You can feel your head spinning, breaths coming in shallow and eyes welling up with tears. You really shouldn’t be here. This is weird and people definitely know what you’re doing and oh my god you’re going to be sick–
A hand shoots out to grab yours, fingers pulling you back to reality. You look up to see Woody gazing at you with so much concern it’s nearly enough to bring you out of your head completely.
“Hey, hey,” He mumbles, voice hushed. “You’re okay, just breathe.”
You do as he says, sucking in deep breaths in that way your therapist taught you when you were 12. Box breathing he’d called it. You’d thought it was ridiculous until freshman year of high school when you came face to face with your first F and realized why people had to use it.
It takes a couple of moments for you to get full control of your senses again, but when you do you’re suddenly panicking for an entirely different reason. What kind of person gets so deep into their head over where their dress is from they nearly send themselves into a full fledged panic attack? You, apparently.
You slap your hands over your face, lips twisting in discomfort. “I’m sorry,” You start, voice still a bit warbly and slightly muffled, “I just get really into my head sometimes and–”
Woody grabs your wrists with a featherlight touch, thumbs hovering over your pulse points. He pulls them away gently, forcing you to come back into the world and away from the safety your hands brought.
“Why are you apologizing?” He asks.
Your lips part. Then close. Then part again. Then close again. You don’t really know how to answer him because you’ve never been asked that before. Usually you apologize and then things are awkward for the rest of the night. But he doesn't expect that from you. Instead, he was genuinely worried–not just because it was seen as the polite thing to do. He genuinely cares.
And that in itself is enough to pull you back to reality completely.
“Because…” You laugh nervously, “I probably ruined tonight, didn’t I?”
He wets his lips, eyes catching on something past your head. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a crooked grin and wraps one hand more firmly around your wrist, the other falling to his side. “Who said anything about ruining?” He teases, tilting his head towards the entrance. “C’mon.”
He leads you outside, palm warm and heavy in your own. The sun has dipped low below the lake, casting the sky in deep shades of orange and pink. The air has the musky scent it always does when you're near fresh water, but there’s something else too. The faint smell of an approaching rain, one that you hadn’t prepared for.
Woody slows his pace when he reaches the steps to the small gazebo, wooden steps creaking under his weight. He bows dramatically, gesturing towards the open space. “After you.”
You roll your eyes, but there isn’t any mirth in it. More like…endearence? “What are you doing?" You ask, feet glued to the grass.
He looks up at you and straightens his back, “We’re enjoying the wedding? Is this some kind of trick question…?”
You frown, glancing towards the building. You can see people still talking inside, moving around each other like fish in a swirling sea of gold accents. “The weddings in there.” You point out.
He just rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand once more and pulling you up the stairs. “Stop thinking so much just this once, yeah?” He laughs, soft and airy and way too pure. “Just…dance with me.”
You can feel your skin flushing. Can feel the heat crawling up your neck in unwanted waves. You don’t even know how to respond, mouth going dry and lips tightening together.
“There isn’t any music.” You mutter lamely, avoiding his gaze. It’s a bad excuse, you know. But you're not exactly well versed in the art of…whatever this even is.
“That’s okay,” He says, snaking a hand around your waist smoothly. You hardly even register it until you're stumbling forward slightly, catching yourself with two hands against his chest. “We don’t need it.”
You aren’t exactly sure how things play out after that. It’s mostly him leading and you following blindly, but eventually you’re swaying softly together. His hands settle against your waist, holding you gently. Yours end up wrapped around his neck, fingers clasped at his upper back. The fairy lights flicker on once the sky turns from a painted canvas into something darker, highlighting the dips of his face in warm lighting. Somewhere, crickets chirp endlessly, speaking to each other in their native tongue.
In truth, you can’t quite meet his eyes. It’s absolutely embarrassing being a twenty-something-year-old and unable to look a guy in the eyes, but you really just can’t do it. And it’s not because of the fact that you’re slow dancing in a gazebo under an array of hanging lights, but it’s something else you aren’t sure you want to accept. Something that sits deep in your chest, practically begging to claw its way up and out and into the open air.
You push it down as hard as you can.
He cuts through the silence then, voice a hushed whisper, like he’s scared the moment will break if he speaks too loud. “This is better, right?”
You swallow, nodding once. “Yeah,” You breathe out. “Thank you.”
He hums, thumbs beginning to rub featherlight circles into your sides.
The entire thing is entirely too intimate. You should pull away. Should tell him that this is way too much considering he refuses to share the most basic piece of knowledge with you. But you don’t. Instead, against your will, your hands tighten around his neck, cheek resting against the hard plains of his chest.
His heartbeat picks up the slightest bit before smoothing out again. You can feel it beating against your ear, consistent and comforting in a way that nearly makes your eyes droopy.
“What are we doing?” You finally manage to ask him, voice so small you aren’t sure he’s even able to hear it. Rain begins to drop from the sky, pelting softly against the roof of the gazebo.
“Dancing.” He answers easily.
You lift your head then, eyes finding his own under the soft glow. They’re soft and beautiful and gazing at you in a way that should be considered illegal.
Your lips quirk up, but quickly fall back down. “That’s not what I meant.” You mumble.
He blinks, squeezing your waist once. “I know.”
There’s a moment of silence then, but the space between you is enough to cloud your mind with millions of thoughts.
“I’m going to tell you,” He sighs, eyes falling to the floor. He watches the way your weight shifts back and forth on your feet. “Soon. I promise.”
Your eyebrows furrow, fingers running over the baby hairs at the back of his neck. “Why?” You ask, “Why is it so hard to tell me?” You don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but he doesn’t even flinch at your tone. Just takes it without firing back.
“It’s complicated,” He insists, voice low. The rain begins to fall down harder, plopping against the roof and muffling the world around you.
Truthfully, you’re getting kind of sick of his constant refusal. The only explanation you can come up with for it is that he’s either some kind of war criminal or secret service agent. Neither are options you particularly enjoy.
You release him and take a step back. His hands linger at your waist, clearly hesitant to let go, but you shoot him a look and they drop to his sides.
“How is your name complicated?” You question, arms crossing over your chest.
He runs a hand over his face, head shaking softly. “You don’t understand–”
You throw your arms up, eyes widening visibly. “You’re right, I don’t understand!” Your breathings uneven now, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your chest. “You-You kiss me, dance with me, comfort me." Your voice becomes hushed, "Look at me like–like that.”
He takes a step forward, you take another step back. Then again. And again. Until your back is against the fence of the gazebo and you can feel the rain misting over your shoulders and hair. He doesn’t crowd you, but he’s close enough that your breath catches. “Like what?”
You swallow, resisting the urge to look away from him. Everything in you is begging you to run away. To turn around and pretend this never happened.
“Don’t.” You breathe out shakily, hands clenched at your sides. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he lets your words hang in the air like a dre, the tension palpable. “I did all of those things,” He finally replies, voice tense. “Because I wanted to. Because you deserved it after what they did to you.”
Your eyebrows furrow, confusion written all over your face. “What–?”
“I lied to you.” He interrupts, taking the smallest step back. His hand runs through his hair, forcing the blonde strands back for a second before they fall back into place. “That first night we met. I told you I didn’t know Luke or Mandy. But…it wasn't true.”
You remember exactly what he’s talking about. But…why would he lie? What was the point? Because he wanted to? What does that even mean?
“You’re not making any sense right now.” You mumble, hands coming up to rub at your temples.
He smiles, the same one he’d had that night he met you. But it's bleaker now, filled with more emotion than you know how to handle.
“I know,” He says shakily, “Just hear me out, okay?”
Your lips tighten together, but you nod anyway.
“When I saw you at the wedding,” He sucks in a breath, “It reminded me of the first time I saw you. Back in college.”
Your breath stutters, heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You try to study his face now, going through everybody you knew back then, but nothing comes up.
He continues, “I didn’t know anyone except for Luke. We’d been the only two people from our high school to end up going to the same university. We were friends because it was convenient.” He sniffs, tugging the edge of his tie. “You and Mandy were there. At orientation. Your hair was in this crazy updo and I thought it was so cool. I wanted to go to talk to you. But Luke couldn’t stop talking about her. Mandy.”
Your chest constricts. It’d always been her then? He’d only gotten with you so he could get to fucking Mandy? You’d thought you were done getting hurt by them, but apparently not.
“You smiled at me that day.” He murmurs, voice thick. “And I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”
You swallow, heart hammering against your chest.
His lips curve downwards, eyes narrowing slightly. “Me and Luke stopped talking as much after that. He’d found his friends and I found mine. But the one thing I was certain of was that I was going to finally talk to you. So I went to a party, planned out how I was going to introduce myself to you and everything. I saw you and I was walking over to you but–” He pauses, eyes squeezing shut. “You were with him. And you looked so happy and in love and I knew I’d missed my chance.”
You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to process any of this without a bucket of ice cream and reruns of Glee.
“I stayed in the background after that. Just watching. And it sucked but I figured that was just how it had to be.” He chuckles, “And then I got the wedding invitation and I saw that he wasn’t getting married to you, but to her. And I thought to myself what’re the chances you show up? Clearly very high, because you did.”
He sucks in a breath, finally meeting your gaze. He looks wrecked. “And I lied because I got too in my head. I wanted to be someone else. Someone more like him.” He grimaces when he says it.
“I’m glad you’re not,” You finally cut in, taking the smallest step towards him. “I’m glad you’re not him.”
His lips quirk up and a breathless laugh leaves him. His face turns serious again, tone grim. "When you told me what they did...What he did," His eyes stay locked onto yours. "I wanted to fucking kill him."
You swallow, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress. He sounds so angry just talking about, like the thought of it is enough to rile him up again.
"That's why I kissed you. Why I dance with you. Why I comfort you. Why I look at you like that." He takes a cautious step towards you, "Because I'm so in love with you it hurts."
Tears well up in your eyes, a mix of disbelief and... relief. Like hearing him say those words is everything you'd been wanting to hear and yet too much at the same time.
You want to run into his arms. Want to kiss him until your breaths become his. But, for once, you're able to find your self control.
He tries to smile, but it's weak. Unsure. "Please say something." He nearly begs.
You let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering over his face. “I don't know what to say," You admit softly. You try to control your breathing, but your head is spinning and your emotions keep crashing over you in desperate waves. "I need...time. I think. I don't know. I just--" You hiccup without meaning too, "I need space."
His face drops, but he doesn't argue. Doesn't push for you to talk to him. Just puts his hands on his hips and nods. “Yeah. Okay. I can take you home–”
You shake your head, already pulling out your phone. “No,” It hurts coming out. “I’ll call someone.”
He freezes, something painful flashing in his eyes. “It’s raining.”
You swallow, unshed tears swimming behind your eyes. “I know.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but he refrains. His hands shove into his pockets, chin falling towards the floor. “Okay,” He says shakily. “I’ll go.”
You don’t respond, just watch him twist on his heel and walk into the pouring rain. He doesn’t turn around, and you don't call out to him.
It’s not until he’s no longer visible do you let the tears fall.
Sunoo doesn’t ask any questions when you climb into his car soaking wet and sobbing. Just turns up the heat and goes five over the speed limit the entire way to his apartment.
In truth, you don’t know why you’re crying. You think you’re just…overwhelmed. Does what he did count as lying? You don’t really know. You don't really know if you should be mad or hurt or what either.
You do know that you need to take some time to sort yourself out.
Sunoo leads you onto his couch silently, taking a seat next to you and crossing his arms. He hands you a tissue from the coffee table. “Alright, spill.”
It flows out of you like an open damn. The kiss (though he already knows about that), the dancing, the gazebo--all of it. It feels good to get it off your chest, but saying it out loud also makes it seem all the more real.
The way he’d looked at you when he left. The way his voice broke when he told you he loved you. That he was in love with you.
“And I still don’t know his fucking name!” You groan, hands wiping at the tears on your cheeks.
Sunoo hums, seamlessly handing you another tissue. “That’s…a lot.”
You scoff out a laugh, leaning against the cushions. Part of you hopes they’ll swallow you whole. “Tell me about it.”
Sunoo doesn’t say anything, and for a moment the only noise between you is his soft breaths and your quiet sniffles.
“Did you ever notice him?” He asks, “Back then, I mean.”
Your chest constricts, because, no, you hadn’t. You’d tried to remember his face, but all that ever comes up is Luke. You’d been so enamored with him that the thought of even looking at any other guys never even occurred to you.
Meanwhile, Luke was using you to get to the person closest to you.
Would things have been different if you would've just opened your eyes? If you would’ve looked away from him for a second and saw who was waiting for you? Would you have left?
You hate that you aren’t sure.
“No,” You answer truthfully, breath catching in your throat. “I was so focused on Luke I never even…” You trail off, swallowing uncomfortably.
Sunoo nods, bringing a hand out to rub comfortingly on your bicep. “I can see you thinking.” He condemns, “Stop it. You didn’t know.”
“That’s the problem!” You insist, tears brimming behind your eyes again. “How could I not notice what was right under my nose. Woody and-and the cheating. I was so blind and for what? Because he was the first guy to give me attention?”
Sunoo gives you a sympathetic look, eyebrows knitting together. “He was your first love, [Y/N]. She was your best friend. No one suspects something like that without seeing it with their own two eyes.” He says gently.
You frown. He’s right, you know he is–but still. It doesn’t make you feel any less dumb.
“And I keep thinking about what might’ve happened if I’d just opened my eyes for two seconds. If what Woody said is true then…how much did I miss out on with him?” You murmur, eyes downcast.
Sunoo sighs, standing from the couch and grabbing water from the kitchen. You thank him as he hands it to you, taking a swift sip. It’s smooth going down, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in your chest.
“I won’t lie to you and say it’s not a valid question,” He tucks his feet under himself, propping his elbow against the cushion and leaning his head on it. “But you can’t spend the rest of your life wondering. Especially not when he’s here now. Still waiting for you, might I add.”
You snort, but there’s no humor behind it. “I know,” You mumble, “I just think I need time to try and process everything.”
He smiles, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
You spend the rest of the night talking about work and whatnot. Anything that doesn’t have to do with college or boys. And it does help for the most part, but Woody's words still linger in your mind like honey in the cracks of your brain.
It happens a couple days later. Your boss calls you to congratulate you on receiving the promotion, voice loud and bubbling in your ear, but you can’t even find it in yourself to share in the enthusiasm. You want to, you really do, but your heart it too heavy.
You keep checking your phone to see if he’s sent anything to you, but he never does. You had asked him for space though, so you can’t exactly be mad at him for giving you exactly what you’d asked for.
But still…part of you had hoped he’d at least say something. Maybe even just a: Hey, How are you? I know I sort of lied to you but isn't it also romantic when you really think about it?
But, now that you’ve had some time to process everything…you want to see him. You want to speak to him and tell him exactly how you’ve been feeling.
So, when Sunoo off handedly mentions a wedding his jobs hosting you can’t help the idea that sparks in your mind.
You remember Woody’s words from that night; “What're the chances you show up?” He’d said, referring to you going to Luke and Mandy's wedding. So is it so crazy for you to ask the same?
If he does show up you aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say. You don’t know how you’re going to look him in the eye, really. But you’d rather try and make a fool of yourself then not and never know what could’ve happened.
The first thing you notice when you arrive is how different this wedding is compared to all the others. It’s more soft, in a way. With twinkling lights and green hanging vines, the whole thing looks straight out of a fairytale.
You’d ditched the Goodwill dress and actually went to the mall and found a floor-length baby pink gown. The heart-shaped neckline is covered in white lace, accenting the pink silk in a way that looks almost doll-like. You’d pulled your hair up as well, letting a few strands loose to frame your face. Even you had to admit you felt good.
Your eyes scan the area, watching as the bride and groom dance to some classical version of a Taylor Swift song. People watch them, sipping on their wines and swaying back and forth with their own spouses. You look through the crowd, trying to find that familiar head of blonde hair, but you come up empty.
Your chest squeezes, thoughts of uncertainty beginning to float around your head. What if this all really had been a mistake? Maybe he truthfully didn’t want to see you again after everything. What if he’d finally decided to move on?
That’s when you hear it. The soft sounds of a piano from another room. Your head snaps towards it, legs carrying you towards the tune like you’re under the pied pipers spell. And maybe you are.
You push the massive doors open slightly, slipping through and letting it click shut softly behind you. The room is big, with highrise ceilings and massive windows. And there in the center, is a piano. Black and sleek and occupied by a boy with blonde hair and a loose tie.
He doesn’t notice you enter which you’re partially grateful for. He’s too focused gliding his fingers over the keys, playing that damn song.
“Love me harder?” You laugh, soft and warm. “Really?”
His fingers pause their movements, eyes flickering up towards you. He looks shocked for a moment, but it quickly dissipates into something that looks eerily similar to relief.
He chuckles, a small smile working its way onto his lips. “Only the best song ever made.”
You wet your lips, taking small cautious steps towards him. He watches you the entire time, eyes trailing from your face all the way to your feet. He scoots down the bench swiftly, leaving space for you to take a seat next to him.
You do so hesitantly, your hands falling into your lap and your shoulder brushing his.
“Hi,” You breathe out, holding out a hand. “I’m [Y/N].”
He stares at you for a moment, at the hand stretched out in front of him, a silent offering. Something flashes behind his eyes--recognition, maybe. Relief at the thought of starting over.
“Hi,” He croaks, eyes glued onto yours. He takes your hand firmly, fingers fitting over your own like they were made just for you. “I’m Heeseung.”
Heeseung. You let the name bounce around in your mind, going over each syllable and committing them to your memory.
“Heeseung,” You murmur, letting it roll on your tongue. “It’s pretty.”
He grins, letting out a breath that’s bordering on a laugh. “You think so?”
You nod, squeezing his fingers once. “Yeah,” You murmur. “I really do.”
Heeseungs silent for a moment, his eyes glued to where your hands are connected. He clears his throat before bringing your hands down to the keyboard. “Do you know how to play?” He asks.
You shake your head, letting the pads of your fingers run over each key. “Never had the chance to learn.”
He hums, placing his hands over yours. “I could show you,” He offers softly, “If you wanted.”
Your eyes flicker over to him for a moment before they fall back to your joined hands. His thumbs rub into your knuckles, silent encouragement.
“Yeah,” You manage, even though your heart feels like it’s about to tear out of your chest from how hard it’s beating. “I’d like that.”
He smiles, but it’s not the cheeky one you’re used to. It’s sincere and filled with so much love it nearly makes you melt.
He guides your hands over the piano, pressing down keys and chuckling every time your fingers slip. His cologne floods your senses, clouding every thought in your mind until all you can think about is him.
The way his fingers feel against yours, the way his shoulder stays pressed against you, the way he keeps glancing at you like he can’t believe you’re real.
He guides you through the song, murmuring praises every time you play a chord correctly–Really it's just him playing and pretending you’re doing it on your own.
For a moment, the entire world disappears. It’s just you and the boy you’ve absolutely and impossibly fallen in love with, playing piano at the wedding of people you don’t even know.
Your breath shudders as the song comes to a stop. He doesn't lift his hands from yours, doesn’t back away. It's not until you turn to look at him does he even attempt to shift, and even then all he does lean away from you so he can see your face better.
“I’m sorry,” You start, “For everything. For making you leave like that. I should’ve–”
He cuts you off gently, foot nudging yours. “Don’t,” He breathes, “Don’t do that. You don’t need to apologize for needing space.”
God, can he get any more perfect?
You sniffle, nodding once. “Right. I just…” You sigh, eyes diverting from him. “I didn’t know what to do when you told me everything. It was a lot to process.”
He nods, encouraging you to continue.
“But I don’t think it’s everything you told me that scared me. I was scared because I-I was starting to fall for you and I didn’t know how to let you in after everything happened with you-know-who. And not to mention the fact that I didn’t even know your name.” You laugh, shoulders shaking slightly. You finally look at him then, eyes brimming with tears. “But after you left I knew. I knew that I loved you. That I do love you. And if you’ll still have me, I don’t want to run from it anymore.”
Heeseung’s silent, eyes searching yours like he’s looking for any bit of hesitance. When he doesn’t find it, he lets out a soft groan, head tilting back slightly. He squeezes his eyes shut like he's in actual pain. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that?” He mumbles, leaning into your space. You can feel his breath against your lips, his heartbeat against your own. “Being yours is the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”
You suck in a shaky breath, your eyes darting down to his lips. “Heeseung,” You breathe.
He doesn’t hesitate then, surging forward and capturing your lips in a kiss.
This one is different from the first one all those months ago. It’s sweeter, slower. He takes his time memorizing the taste of you, a hand trailing up your arm and cupping your cheek.
You pull away for a second, attempting to get a word out, but he doesn’t let you. Instead his lips capture yours again, deeper this time. Your lungs beg for air, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. For this–to keep having him kiss you like you’re the only girl he’s ever seen–you’d learn how to live without air.
“Hee–” You gasp against his lips, a smile breaking through. “Hold on–”
You push against his chest lightly, and he whines–actually fucking whines–and his lips chase yours like it hurts him to be away from you.
“Heeseung,” You giggle, “We’re in public.”
“So?” He questions, breathless and absolutely flushed. “Can you blame me for wanting to kiss the girl I love?”
Heat rises up your neck, lip tugging between your teeth as you try to hold back your smile.
He takes your hand again, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s get out of here then, yeah?”
You barely register the door to his apartment slamming behind you until he’s pushing you against it. His hands find your hips, thumbs digging into the bone but never moving. Never straying beyond respectful.
“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbles, lips crashing against yours, “Nearly fell to my knees when I saw you in this dress.”
You smirk, hands clasping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. “Yeah?”
He chuckles, parting from your lips to rest his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You look like a fucking dream.”
Your lips part, a wave of want splashing over you so fast you barely register it. “Heeseung,” You manage, dragging your hands down his chest. “Touch me.”
He immediately shifts, lips pressing against yours and hands dragging up and down your body. He traces your collarbones, lips trailing open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck. Your eyes flutter closed, hands tangling in his soft hair.
His breath gives when you tug slightly, a groan spilling through his lips. “Fuck,” He sighs, lips leaving deep red marks everywhere they touch. Like he's claiming you.
You can feel yourself getting needier, hands grasping onto whatever you can find, hips rolling against nothing.
“Hee,” You whine, the nickname slipping out easily. “Please.”
He hums, digging his hands into the flesh of your hips. “Yeah, Baby?” He pecks the side of your jaw, breath fanning against your ear and shooting a shiver down your spine. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just need you to say it.”
You tug on your bottom lip, cheeks flushing. It's not that you were embarrassed, but the way he says it makes you want to scream.
Your chest heaves against his when you bury your hands into the fabric of his shirt, tugging against his already loosening tie. “Please,” You beg, embarrassment lingering in the tremble in your voice, “I want you to touch me.”
He groans, already leading you into his bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind him swiftly, gently pushing you towards the bed until your knees hit the edge. He guides you down, and your back lands against the sheets with a soft huff, your hair fanning out around you like a halo.
“Gonna give you everything you want,” He murmurs above you, kissing your lips sweetly. His hands linger everywhere, from the dip of your shoulder to the curve of your breast, fingertips featherlight. “You gonna let me, Sweetheart?” He asks.
You nod swiftly, already feeling your underwear grow damp with want. “Yes,” You gasp, “Fuck, Please.”
He chuckles, sliding the straps of your dress down your shoulders and revealing your bra and tummy. He sucks in a breath at the sight, and then swiftly lowers his lips down to the swell of your chest, leaving open mouthed kisses atop the skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, “So perfect.”
You arch your back and allow him to unclip your bra, tossing it onto the floor somewhere. His lips are on you then, kissing and sucking your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. Drool dribbles down his chin and down the curve of your breast, shining against your skin.
He makes his way down your sternum, kissing over your ribs, down the soft skin of your stomach, all the way down until his knees hit the floor and he's in between your legs.
He swallows, running his fingers over the silk of your dress covering your legs.
He looks up at you, silently asking for your permission. You give a weak nod of confirmation.
His fingers hook into the top half of your dress pooled around your waist and tugs it down softly. It drags down your legs and plops onto the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.
The air is thick with tension when he comes face to face with the lace covering your folds, eyes zeroed in on the growing damp patch between your legs.
“Fuck,” He groans, breathless. His cheeks are flushed, pupils blown so wide his eyes are nearly black. “You’re perfect.”
His lips find your inner thigh, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses over the skin, all the way down your calf, and over the hard bone of your ankle. He does the same on the other side, taking his time worshipping you like you’re his personal deity.
“Hee,” You whine, hips rolling against nothing, “Don’t tease me.”
He chuckles, his hands running up your thighs before finding purchase against your hips. He doesn’t hold you roughly, but there’s enough intention behind it to keep you in place.
“Just wanna worship you, baby.” He hums, nudging his nose against the crease of your pelvis, “You’re so fucking perfect.”
You roll your eyes, but heat crawls up your neck anyway. “So you’ve said.”
He taps a finger against your hip bone teasingly, lips widening into a cunning grin, like he knows exactly what he does to you. And, honestly, he probably does. “Dreamed about how you’d taste, the sounds you’d make. ” He murmurs, tongue jutting out slightly to wet his kiss-swollen lips. “You gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asks.
“Yes,” You gasp out, “God, yes.”
It doesn’t take much after that.
He starts slowly, giving small kitten licks over your panties. You let out a sigh, hands tangling in the sheets and teeth tugging on your bottom lip.
It’s not messy. It’s not rough. It’s sweet and slow, like he’s taking the time to figure out what makes you keen and buck your hips into his mouth.
He finds a soft rhythm, licking into you until the thin border covering your folds gleams with a mix of his saliva and your slick. His nose bumps against your clit, earning a whine from you every time it happens.
He curls his fingers into the waistline of your panties, dragging them down your hips and tossing them onto the floor. The cool air brushes against your slick folds, making you shiver.
Heeseung pauses for a moment, gazing at your sex like he’s committing it to memory. Embarrassment clouds your mind at being stared at like this, like you’re a piece of art he’d pay millions to have.
He sucks in a shaky breath, lips glistening with your slick. “I know I’ve already said it,” He mumbles, dragging a hand down your tummy and letting his thumb brush over your clit. “But you’re beautiful. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
He emphasizes your words with a long lick up your folds, tongue flat against your hole. Your back arches off the bed, a whimper sliding out of you without your permission.
Your hands fly to his hair as he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling around your clit.
“Fuck!” You whine, “Fuck–yes! Don’t stop!” You sob out, tugging at his roots. He groans at the feeling, the vibration buzzing against your clit in a way that actually makes your thighs shake.
His lips wrap around your clit then, sucking it into his mouth and lapping his tongue against it. You let out a broken moan, back bowing off the bed. But he presses a hand firmly on your stomach to keep you in place.
He continues, soft then fast, pace fluctuating like he can’t decide whether he wants to take his time. Your thighs shake as you get closer, chest heaving and moans slipping from your mouth like prayers.
You jolt when he prods a finger at your entrance, teasing you slowly before pushing inside. The stretch is good–and when he curls it just right you swear you see stars. Your eyes fill with tears the closer you get, the coil in your stomach tightening to unbearable levels.
“F-fuck–Close–” You manage to gasp.
He hums against you, then adds another finger. You let out a high-pitched whine as he does, hips rolling against his mouth and hand, body completely lost to the pleasure.
He fucks his fingers in and out of you gently, constantly curling right against your g-spot in a way that should be illegal.
“Can’t believe you ever let him taste you,” He says, voice slightly muffled against your pussy. “Bet he couldn’t even make you cum, huh?”
You’re too far gone to form a reply. All you can think about is Heeseung and how close you are to release.
But he doesn’t seem to want a reply from you. Instead, he licks a broad stripe up your clit, and it’s enough to finally break you.
You cum with a sob, fingers tightening in his hair and thighs tightening around his head. Your vision goes white for a moment as he laps up your release like a dog receiving a treat from its owner.
He fucks you through it, mumbling soft praises the entire time. It’s not until you’re crying from overstimulation and pushing his head away does he come up for air. And when he does, you swear you nearly cum all over again.
His hair is a disaster, sticking up in places and curling against his forehead. His eyes are lidded and his pupils are blown out, while slick mixed with saliva glistens across his nose, lips, and jaw. He looks like pure sex and every secret fantasy you’ve ever dared to have.
You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, pulling him up gently until he’s situated atop you again. You kiss him hard and messy, tasting yourself on his tongue. He nips at your bottom lip, requesting access, and you grant it easily.
He swirls his tongue in your mouth, hands gripping your hips and rolling them against the growing bulge in your pants. You gasp when you feel him–thick and hard and already drooling with pre-cum.
He groans when you roll your hips experimentally, his lips parting in a pant and forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, if you keep doing that…” He trails off, eyebrows knitting together.
You grin, wrapping your hands around the tie hanging off of his neck and tugging it off. He seems to get the idea and quickly rids himself of his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his boxers.
You swallow at the obvious bulge, a wet patch of pre-cum practically dripping against the fabric. He gasps when you hand experimentally brushes over it, his eyes falling shut.
You carefully palm him, watching how his face contorts in pleasure. “Fuck–wait–you’re gonna make me cum like this.” He mutters, reaching down and pulling your wrist away and over your head.
He uses his freehand to push his boxers off, revealing his flushed cock to you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of it–thick and flushed and oh, so pretty.
He sucks in a shaky breath before lining himself up with your entrance, his lips brushing yours as he does. He kisses you as he enters, swallowing every broken whine and whimper that escapes from your mouth.
He’s big–bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, at least. The head of his cock stretches you deliciously, nudging against your walls and carving a place for himself.
“You feel so fucking good,” He whimpers against your lips, the hand holding your wrist shifting so he can intertwine his fingers with yours. He squeezes your hand three times as he bottoms out, and your eyebrows furrow at how deep he is.
He’s resting right against your g-spot, putting continuous pressure onto it until you’re certain you see stars. He doesn't move inside you, letting you adjust to the feeling, but you can tell he’s holding back.
“Hee-Heeseung,” You attempt, using your free hand to paw at his chest. “Please move.”
His breath hitches, burying his face into the crook of your neck. And then he’s rutting into you slowly, broken gasps leaving his kiss-stricken lips.
You squeeze his hand, lips forming into an ‘O’ as he rocks into you with a perfect rhythm. It’s not too rough, not too fast–just enough to drive you fucking crazy. Enough to ensure you feel every vein and every ridge of his cock inside you.
“I love you,” He whines into your skin, leaving dark marks around the curve of your neck, the line of your jaw, the swell of your breasts. Anywhere he can reach. “Love that you’re letting me touch you like this. Love you so much it’s fucking painful.”
A groan rumbles deep in his chest when you roll your hips to meet his. “You like that?” He asks, “Like knowing how crazy you drive me?”
You try to reply, but all that comes out is a broken sob. He picks up the pace now, slamming into you with a rhythm that rivals anything you’ve had before.
“Yeah, you do,” He teases softly, “Don’t worry. Gonna remind you every fucking day.”
You tighten around him instinctively, walls attempting to milk him for everything he’s worth. His hips falter at the feeling, sweat beginning to stick to his forehead.
He fucks you like a man starved, like he’s angry at you for keeping this from him. Tears of pleasure streak your cheeks, each one he kisses away without a word.
The entire thing is too much, too good, and before you know it you’re tightening around him and cumming harder than you ever have in your life.
“There you go, baby,” He gasps, reaching his freehand down to rub light circles against your clit. “Such a good girl for me.”
He fucks you through the orgasm, enjoying every keen and whine you give him, until he’s releasing inside you himself. His cum fills you in hot spurts, painting your hole a creamy white.
He collapses atop you, chest heaving against yours. It takes a moment for the both of you to collect yourselves, but once you do he’s pulling out gently, whispering apologies when you twitch from overstimulation.
He leans over to grab a cloth from the bedside table, kneeling between your thighs and cleaning you softly. He leaves lingering kisses on the inside of your thighs as he does, like he’s thanking you for letting him touch you.
When he’s finished he crawls into bed beside you, staring at your face with a dopey smile.
You raise a brow and let out a confused giggle. “What?”
He shrugs, shaking his head softly. “Just can’t believe I’m so lucky.” He mumbles, leaning in and kissing you softly. You kiss him back easily, hand coming up to cup his cheek.
And it’s then that you think that maybe, just maybe, things were always meant to play out this way.
Maybe, just maybe, that wedding invitation was the best thing that ever happened to you.
And maybe, just maybe, one day you'd be able to send out your own.
wowwowo she’s done!!
this was my first time writing smut so if it’s bad pls forgive me 😓
reblogs are really appreciated and i love to hear from you guys!
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that awkward moment when people keep confessing to your crush via the anonymous confession page you run.
crush! jungwon x gn!reader
since hot to go! wont be updated this thursday i wanted to give u guys a lil treat :3 and i may or may not have written this on a plane...🥸 heh luv u guys >_<! <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated!!
