I.

I looked at him, and I thought, “If I was very brave or very honest, I would tell him.” I would say it, so he would know it and I would know it, and I could never take it back. But I wasn’t that brave or honest, so all I did was look at him. And I think he knew anyway. –JENNY HAN

April 22, 2017

You always woke up before your alarm, but something was different this time. Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the pile of clothes strewn underneath the bed. The dorm walls were bare and that ugly yellow color, instead of being covered in your favorite movie posters. A fan was whirring in the corner of the room. The TV was still on, projecting the title screen of the game you and Wonwoo had been playing last night.

That was when you realized this wasn’t your room. This was Wonwoo’s.

And all your clothes weren’t on.

Creeping your hand up from the sheets, you turned the alarm off on your defective Android that your dad bought you for the cheapest price possible. Sometimes the alarm didn’t work, but you didn’t want to chance it this morning. You carefully moved off the mattress, almost falling when you noticed that this twin sized bed was higher up than the one in your dorm, and began to put on your discarded clothes.

The frame creaked.

Your body froze, unsure what to do, before you continued to step into your leggings and turned around. 

Wonwoo was sitting up, the bedsheets falling carelessly down and exposing his bare torso. His was skinnier than you assumed. The oversized shirts he wore concealed his lanky form, but it was intentional. His hair was sticking up in every other direction as he put on his glasses, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. His frames were broken on one side, the arm being held together with shitty tape.

When he finally noticed you standing and putting your legs into the tight spandex of your leggings, he remembered everything that happened the night before. You asking to come over past visiting hours. The video game. The kiss. Needing relaxation before a grueling set of final exams next week. “Maybe we should try,” you had said. “Just once,” he had agreed. And now, there was a used condom in his trash can and he was trying not to gawk at it.

You were both just sophomores in college, but you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. Especially when it meant crossing the lines of friendship.

Tugging on your shoes, you said, “Maybe I should –”

“Coffee?” He suggested, voice rough from sleep. It affected you, somewhat, and you realized how much you liked him like this: unpolished and disheveled. “Avalon dining hall has free coffee and pastries on Saturday mornings.”

You nodded, all awkward. “Sure.”

Following slightly behind him, you walked to the dining hall, trying not to make eye contact with any classmate that passed by. You wondered if they could see it written all over your face: not exactly shame, but something deeper. Maybe self-consciousness, like you’d been caught in the act. Wonwoo was wearing the same t-shirt from the day you met in class – the one with a small hole on the sleeve, a faded graphic of Godzilla on the front – as the morning sun beat down on you two, promising a hot summer ahead.

You picked out a table in the dining hall as Wonwoo went up to get your coffees. He put them in paper cups rather than mugs. Avalon food was good, but the dishware tended to be sticky, even when they cleaned it. He found you at the small table in the corner, somehow holding two coffees while balancing a plastic plate of chocolate croissants on top of one. You accepted your coffee with a tense smile, immediately taking a sip and forgetting how hot it would be. Wincing, you pulled apart one of the croissants, hand pulling back quickly when your fingers almost touched his.

You two had been friends since freshman year, and you had never shied away from him like this. But after last night … it was like his fingertip had the ability to electrocute.

Silence echoed. The dining hall was only partially filled – it was the weekend, after all – and you had said hi to your friend, Seungkwan, when he passed. Neither of you were looking at each other, eyes focused on something else. For Wonwoo, it was the bee buzzing just outside the window next to your table.

You cleared your throat as you traced the rim of your coffee cup. “Well, I guess this awkwardness proves that we’d be terrible at casual.”

Finally, he relented. Your playful comment making a snort escape from his lips. You couldn’t help but smile, still staring at your cup. “Yeah. Imagine what it would be like if we actually tried,” he quipped.

Your eyes lifted to his, stunned for a moment. Just a moment. Because you couldn’t dwell on what “actually tried” meant. Dating? Wanting? Choosing each other on purpose? You were both just shy of 21. You couldn’t possibly know what you wanted.

But then the night was coming back in flashes. You remembered the way he kissed you slow at first, before deepening it and how you couldn’t hold back the moan when his tongue explored your mouth. He had taken his glasses off, making sure to cautiously place them on his bedside table, or else they would break again, and he was so … handsome. Well, of course, Wonwoo was handsome. You weren’t blind. But it was different up close, without his glasses.  When he was staring at you not just like a friend, but as something more. Like you were everything he had ever dreamed of. It was just you and him breathing heavily against each other’s mouths while taking in your appearances, and then going in for the kiss again. Last night had been his first time going down on a girl, but it had been the best experience of your life. Granted, you only had one person go down on you before him. His talent was truly unmatched though. And the way it felt when he finally pushed into you –

Only a second passed. It had felt like hours.

You laughed too fast, shaking your head. “We’d have ruined everything.”

Wonwoo paused, a mere breath. “Or –”

You watched him. Even your finger on the rim of your cup hesitated, as if your entire world depended on the next words that came out of his mouth.

He closed his mouth, smiling, and then shrugged. “Yeah,” he agreed, “ruined everything.”

In freshman year psychology, your professor had briefly touched on origin wounds – deep, emotional scars that shape core beliefs about self-worth, safety, and especially, trust, making you repeat patterns in adulthood. You didn’t realize it at the time, and Wonwoo surely didn’t mean for it, but this was one of your origin wounds: the point where everything went wrong by dishonesty, by being too reasonable.

Maybe it was an origin wound for both of you.

Your expression was perfectly schooled, lips curving up as you reached across the table with your hand. “Just friends?”

He hesitated, biting his lip for the longest minute of your life. Until eventually … his large palm closed over yours.

“Just friends,” he promised. “Hopefully, for many years to come.”

February 12, 2026

Dusting snow flurries off his black beanie, Wonwoo was grateful that you gave the second key to your building to him rather than someone else. Not that you wanted anyone besides him in your personal space, anyway. You weren’t answering your phone when he arrived, so he let himself in, setting his wet hat and gloves on the antique space heater you still kept in your kitchen. It was so old; you were pretty sure it came from your grandmother that died before you were born. But it worked like a champ, and he was able to shed off his coat just before the pizza box almost fell from his hands.

Ever since you both moved to the city 3 years ago, you established a ritual for him to come over to your apartment on Thursday nights and watch a movie you both never saw before while dining on some of the worst reviewed takeout spots. You both begged to differ. Thursday movie night just made sense, seeing as the two of you bonded in a college course on the history of cinema. 

He turned his head to catch the apologetic smile you were throwing his way. That’s why you hadn’t answered his text. Despite the late hour, despite the fact that you left the office three hours ago … you were on the phone with your boss about a change in his flight. You weren’t his assistant; you were actually far above that in the company. But you always agreed to help. If you didn’t answer his call, no one would.

Plopping down on the couch beside you, Wonwoo scrolled through his phone and listened as you talked your anxiety-ridden boss down from the ledge. It reminded him of last week when he came over and you quickly told him to set down the pizza in the kitchen while you sat on your bathroom floor and smoothed over a conflict your work friend, Jennifer, had texted you about. Something about a boyfriend. You didn’t sweat it, never missing a moment to give practical advice. 

He had been watching you fix everyone else’s problems your entire friendship – half amused, half exhausted by how you never did the same for yourself. It’s always been something you never had a problem doing, but he saw how much it weighed on you. You never complained though. He wondered sometimes if it was tearing you up inside to complain. Just once. 

When you finally got off the phone, you let out the heaviest sigh and fell back, resting your head on his thigh. Physical contact like this had never meant much to the both of you, but still, his finger did stop scrolling. His breathing paused, too focused on himself to notice that maybe yours had faltered too.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Sal put extra cheese on the pizza, right?”

Wonwoo clicked off his phone and let it collapse on the couch cushion. Instead of answering your question, he said, “You’re always doing that – fixing people. I’m sure your boss could’ve figured that out on his own.” He looked down, meeting your eyes as they tilted up to his. “I know you’ve insisted it’s not a big deal, but –”

“Trust me, he wouldn’t have been able to figure that out. He’s never struggled with anything in his life.” You played with your fingers on your lap. “Besides, being praised at work after I help someone feels better than anything, even an orgasm.”

Your latter comment made him bite the inside of his cheek, just for a second, and he ignored it before adding, “It’s not just at work. It happens all the time. You know I’m right.”

You exhaled even louder, more dramatic, and sat up. Your hair was slightly messed up in the back, but you felt his eyes on you. Felt them burning into your cheek as if he had powers. Wonwoo always looked at you that way: like he cared a little too much, kind of like the way he stared at you when you were young and stupid in that godforsaken dorm room. You couldn’t deny that you were guilty of doing the same sometimes, whether it be in a dark movie theater where he was far too focused on the screen, or when he took the liberty ordering for you at a bar because he knew the bartender liked him. And maybe you did care a little too much, but that didn’t matter. Because it couldn’t matter.

Wonwoo would always just be … Wonwoo.

Shifting your gaze to his, you sent him a small smile and asked, “So which movie did you pick out for us tonight?”

After scrolling through multiple streaming apps, Wonwoo finally found the one hosting this horror movie that was recommended to him – Swiped. It was a modern day nightmare about a woman using an app to get back into dating and accidentally wound up on a date with a serial killer. Definitely an indie film, so they didn’t hold back on the gory scenes, which you watched with your hands over your eyes, peaking out slightly between your fingers. Wonwoo, on the other hand, didn’t shy away, but still watched the bloody scene of the killer’s past with his top lip curled in disgust. He set down the pizza slice in his hand onto a paper plate and leaned back into the couch.

“This is the exact reason why dating apps don’t work. You don’t know if you could end up with a serial killer,” he commented, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned your head, desperate not to look at the TV. “Have you ever actually been on a date from an app? I can’t remember the last time you even told me you went on a date.”

He sent you a glare. “You’re one to talk. The last time you dated was that older guy who you stopping talking to after he wanted to be exclusive.”

“Sean was asking too much of me. He wanted to see me every weekend and I love my friends too much.” You glanced at the scene to see the killer’s particularly creepy face and cringed, looking back to your friend. “Now, answer the question.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I … okay, never. What’s your point?”

Good question. Your nose wrinkled as you thought about the last time Wonwoo dated. It had to be years ago, even longer than you. Just after college and you were both already hyper fixating on a quarter-life crisis. It was before you both moved, and you remembered him casually dating this girl. What was her name? Sally? Seoyun? Selena? Too different, but you thought he introduced you to her once. He broke it off before it got too serious, when you both got opportunities of a lifetime to work in the heart of the city.

He wasn’t dating. Hadn’t been for years. Not seriously. Not casually. He was always “busy,” always “just fine.”

You noticed. Of course, you did.

“Soooo …” You murmured, dragging out the word as you slowly met his eyes. Your tone was smooth, almost blasé. “Are you ever going to date again?”

Wonwoo arched an eyebrow. “You’re full of questions tonight. Why do you care?”

Your gaze narrowed. “Oh, I don’t know, Wonwoo. Maybe it’s because you’re my best friend.” You tossed a throw pillow at him and it hit him right in the face. He had never been good with dexterity, even though he was great at video games.

His glasses were knocked onto the floor and he laughed, picking them up before settling against the cushions once more. He fixed them back onto his face, but the frames – no matter how new – were still crooked on him. 

When his laughter died down, he shrugged, lacing his fingers together on his chest as he watched the movie. “Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.”

There was nothing dramatic about his tone. He wasn’t bitter. He said it like a fact.

The words stuck, lodging themselves somewhere deep. Not in your head, not in your chest. Even deeper. In your ribs, nestled in a cage of your own making. 

Because his answer wasn’t “anyone interesting” or “anyone I like.” He mentioned effort, no matter how indifferent he sounded. You had known Wonwoo for almost a decade. You knew what he was like when something was worth the effort.

So you laughed it off – albeit awkwardly – because you couldn’t stand the silence. “Well, that’s fixable.”

“Here you go again.” But then he finally glanced at you, curiosity peaked. “Is … is it?”

You nodded, body completely facing him now, as you rested your elbow on the back of the couch. Grinning at him, you replied, “Mmhmm. You’re just not meeting the right people. I know, like …” You lifted a few fingers. “… Five women off the top of my head for you.”

A corner of his mouth tugged up. “One of those isn’t your cousin that tried kissing me at your graduation party, right?”

“Don’t make me throw another pillow at you.” You playfully hit his arm. “I’m being serious. I think it all comes down to that.” 

He turned back to the screen, just when the main character gasped at the killer’s monologue. Wonwoo was usually quiet, but this silence was different. He wasn’t arguing at your response, but he clearly wasn’t excited either. It was as if he was resigning himself to whatever fate you bestowed upon him.

And then he gently mumbled, “If you think so.”

Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.

You thought about his answer longer than you should. What was meant to be an uninterested string of words to shrug you off struck you somewhere that you hadn’t felt before. They were heavy; you could practically feel them rolling around in your brain like marbles. You pondered them, even at the office, when you should be focusing on work. Even at night, when sleep just wouldn’t come to you. As you took the train to work, when all you could hear was the singing of some elderly man at the back of the car. 

Despite the way you laughed off awkward situations, you always listened to Wonwoo, always took in every word he said. One time, after drinking a single margarita because he was a lightweight when it came to tequila, he drunkenly told you that no one had ever listened to him like you did. But last night’s conversation hit … different, in a way that had you picking at your cuticles again. Maybe you cared too much. But was it really that bad to care too much for someone that had become your rock? 

You couldn’t harp on it, too afraid of the real answer.

You had just gotten home, still wearing the cardigan you wore to the office even after changing into a pair of worn out pajama bottoms. The kind that you probably got as a teenager, but the fabric had stretched out so much that they still fit. You were chopping up some veggies for whatever haphazard rice bowl you were throwing together for dinner. Sometimes you would eat a pepper slice, other times you’d throw it in the pan. Your mind wandered though: on emails, reminding yourself that you needed to text back your dad, and – oh, the thing that Wonwoo said last week that simply wouldn’t leave your brain.

He deserves someone great, you thought to yourself. Clearly, you weren’t an option, not that you were expecting to be. If he fell for someone else, maybe you’d finally stop looking at him like –

You let the thought die before it could finish.

On lonely nights, when it was only you and your vibrator, some audio porn blasting through your AirPods, you wondered if you both had tried after that hookup before finals … what would’ve happened? Would you still be as close as you are now? Would you still be this much of a fixer and would he still be too “busy” to date anyone else? 

Even worse: would you have been worth the effort?

You set down the knife on the cutting board, closing your eyes as you gripped the counter. Your head shook, as if pushing the question out before it could take root. But that’s when the feelings you pushed down for so long bubbled up all over again. Calling it a “crush” felt trivial, like you were two kids at recess. It was more like … a feeling that lingered. A curse. A spirit that haunted you.

Because, at your heart of hearts, you knew it shouldn’t ever happened. You and Wonwoo had the chance years ago, but it wasn’t in the cards. You were meant to be friends and that was fine. (Truly, it was.) Your curse would go away soon enough, even if it took another 8 years of friendship.

Rewinding back to your conversation last week absolutely wasn’t helping. You turned, pressing your back against the kitchen counter as the peppers started to sizzle in the hot pan. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you began scrolling through the contacts in your phone. It was in this moment that you reverted back to your old ways, doing what you always did when you were the least bit hurt: you were going to fix.

II.

I think I’ve loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity. –ALICE OSEMAN

September 16, 2015

Maybe Wonwoo had been right; maybe this was a problem for you. But no case ever started as “I’m going to fix this person.”

The first inkling happened after you read Jane Austen’s Emma in senior year of high school. You weren’t a matchmaker by any means, and you certainly weren’t wealthy, nor all that clever, but you related to Emma Woodhouse in ways that were beyond you. And once you got to college, where you could start off with a clean state and become your own person, you found your purpose beginning to sprout. 

There was a girl in your ENG 101 class named Kat – loner type, the kind to always sit in the back and mind her own business. You observed her from your spot in the corner, watched the way she stayed silent and twirled the same piece of dark hair around her finger. She didn’t talk in class. Didn’t talk to anyone, really. Freshman year of college was hard enough as it was, but it was even worse when you were extremely introverted. Not that you had made many friends yet; you just knew how to make conversation. Always had. If you needed a friend and so did Kat, what harm would it be to help each other?

You approached her once class ended, hugging your notebook to you chest as you flashed the most endearing, pearly-white smile at her. You told her your name as she cautiously stood from her seat, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Do you want to grab lunch with me?” You asked brightly. “I think we also have the same first year seminar next. Maybe we could walk together to it after lunch!”

Surprisingly, Kat accepted your offer. Maybe she felt like she couldn’t exactly say no, but that wasn’t for you to assume. You showed her your current favorite dining area – Lincoln Hall – where they made the best burritos on campus. “They can sometimes make your stomach turn if you haven’t had any breakfast,” you explained, “but they’re worth it. Don’t let the chef intimidate you. Just ignore him.”

You quickly realized just how shy Kat was. She had a habit of keeping to herself and only spoke when spoken to. It took almost the whole lunch to get something out of her, as if she was trying to make it impossible to peel back her layers. But when she finally broke a moment of silence with, “These burritos are that good,” you knew that you were getting somewhere.

“Aren’t they? I love that they actually use fresh veggies,” you replied, wiping sauce from your top lip.

“They remind me of these ones I used to get back home.” She shrugged, pensive. “I miss it sometimes.”

Your interest peaked. “Home? Where are you from?”

She was a couple states south of here, while you were more north. Two opposite ends that somehow met on the same campus. Once she crumped up the empty wrapper, she mused, “You must’ve had a lot of friends back home.”

Your brow knitted together. “Not exactly. Just a small group that I had known since middle school, but I’ve always just been social. When I enrolled here, I really wanted to find new people. My parents always said that the people you meet in college are with you for life.” You traced the edge of the table. “Have … you met anyone else on campus?”

She looked a little caught off guard for a minute, and then shrunk into her jacket. “Besides you? Well … no.”

You tilted your head to the side. Kat stuffed her hands into her pockets and let the silence envelope her until it became too awkward. You realized that in order to get her to open up, you needed to beat her at her own game. It was a lot more difficult than you thought.

“I know it’s only the third week of classes, but I’m just …” She sighed, getting to her feet and grabbing her backpack. “… Nervous about making friends. And getting close to other people. I’ve always been kind of an introvert, but now …”

You followed her move, walking with her outside the dining hall and heading to the  Roosevelt building across campus, where your seminar was. “Is there a reason for that?” You asked, and then bumped her elbow with yours, a smile on your lips. “You can tell me. I think we’re friends now.”

Kat chewed on her bottom lip, debating her answer, until eventually, she cracked. “My friends from high school were … not very nice. My mom used to think they were toxic. Whatever you want to call them, they didn’t make me feel good.” She only looked at her feet as you walked together. “High school was hard and I was so scared about being without friends. But they always made me feel like I was a bother. Sometimes they wouldn’t even invite me over. I just let it happen though because I was afraid of being alone. I told myself that college would different.”

“Kat,” you murmured, grabbing her arm so her eyes met yours. You both stopped midstep in the center of the campus courtyard, blooming with life. “I don’t get the vibe that you could ever be a bother. College is the time to make friends, not shy away from them.”

You made due on your words, always making time to have lunch with her after ENG 101, but also introducing her to a few of your classmates from your History of Cinema course. Kasey and Jun were also on the quieter side, but they had way more in common with Kat than you did. Bringing them all together meant you saw Kat less, but she still made the effort to speak to you in class. 

By the time fall semester ended, you and Kat were merely acquaintances, but you didn’t really mind all that much. You had become close with your classmate, Wonwoo, also from History of Cinema, as well as a few other girls that lived in the same building as you. Wonwoo was shy like Kat, but he knew when to exactly open himself up, and he always did around you. Sometimes you wondered if you were merely attracted to introverted people, but you didn’t want to be friends with Wonwoo to help him. There was a warmth to his friendship that you hadn’t experienced before, something that you told that he would be in your life for a long time. 

When you and Wonwoo were in line for dinner, you noticed Kat leaving the dining hall with not just Kat and Jun, but a few others as well. She had clearly blossomed over the last couple of months, and you felt a sense of accomplishment that tingled throughout your body, from your head to your toes. This was the type of feeling you wanted all the time: purpose, connection, serotonin. 

You looked on her fondly, knowing that you helped give her a little push, and your self-esteem seemed to skyrocket. Kat glanced over her shoulder, meeting your eyes then, and waved. Matching her wave with a smile, you then felt Wonwoo’s breath at your ear as he asked, “Who’s that?”

You shrugged. “An old friend.”

February 18, 2026

The coffee at the office was tasting particularly burnt this morning. To be fair, you saw the technician that fixed the machine every couple of months stride through the double doors just after you sat down with your cup. A couple of your coworkers were already fawning over him from the doorway of the kitchenette. You watched them, just over the edge of your cubicle, with a raised brow. The local technician, Seokmin, was definitely handsome and had the kind of biceps you only saw on a bodice ripper romance book, but you had too many emails to waste time on watching him repair the coffee machine.

No matter how much you wanted to.

You took another sip from your cup and winced. Still burnt.

Resting your chin on your fist, you scrolled through the piles of emails that you were copied on but didn’t actually involve your position. You played music softly from the speakers of your monitor, not exactly caring who heard. This was what would happen until you were rewarded with your own office space. Despite your Marketing Director role, the building in general was “far too small” to grant you an office, so you’d make your coworkers’ life a living hell in your cubicle until your boss grew tired of it. He would eventually. Men, especially in positions of power, always caved.

As your fingers began dancing across the keyboard, you heard the doors swing open and the loud scuffle of your coworker, Jennifer’s, ballet flats. You looked up, noting the red in her eyes, the way her cheeks flushed and her mouth was in a flat line. She smoothed back the curls in her perfectly styled pixie cut, huffed, and then dropped her lunch bag onto her desk all the way at the end of the row from yours. 

Now that was perplexing. Jennifer was always in a good mood.

Your fingers paused on the keys, and just when you were about to get up and talk with her, she stormed in the direction of the bathroom. You heard her start to sniffle, but the sound was eventually muffled by the door to the women’s bathroom closing behind her. When one of your desk mates sent you a look, you took that as a sign to go check on her.

Getting to your feet, you smoothed down the wrinkles in your blouse and quickly made your way to the bathroom, sneaking a glance at Seokmin working his magic on the coffee machine in the process. (He really was handsome. Maybe you could help fix him up with someone here if he was single.) You pushed on the door and immediately found Jennifer at the sinks, sniffling as she wiped her eyes. She met your gaze in the mirror and already began stuttering, “Oh, I – I’m – let me j-just –”

You saddled up next to her and put a hand on her arm. “Don’t be silly, Jen,” you whispered, grabbing more paper towels from behind you and handing it to her. “Here, take these. What’s going on?”

Jennifer blew her nose into the paper towels, and the sound was so loud that it startled you. You blinked rapidly and she grumbled, “Sorry,” but it was muffled by the makeshift tissue.

“It’s okay,” you replied, trying to hide your chuckle. But soon enough, you were both sharing a laugh, giggling over the absolute absurdity of it all at 9 AM. You squeezed her arm as she blew her nose again.

“I hoped no one would see me like this, but …” She exhaled hard, tossing her snotty paper towel in the trash before checking her appearance in the mirror. Grimacing, she fixed the strands that had fallen out of her gelled hairstyle. 

Your grip slipped away as you arched a brow. “Do you … want to talk about it?”

She straightened her back, smoothing out the wrinkle in her shirt, before asking, “Do you remember the guy I had texted you about week ago? We hadn’t been dating long, but I asked for your advice –”

“Matty?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes instantly, the name striking a sense of irritation in her that even she was unable to hide. “Yes,” she admitted, and then rubbed at her nose. “The day after I texted you for advice … we actually broke up, but I was too embarrassed to tell you or make you think your advice didn’t work.”

Your brow relaxed. “Jen, it doesn’t offend me that my advice didn’t work. I just care that you’re okay.” And it was the truth, but you couldn’t help but be a little miffed that she didn’t follow your guidance after you made time out of your movie night with Wonwoo to prioritize her problem. That was neither here nor there. Jennifer was your friend after all.

“I just …” She wrung out her hands in front of her, looking down at the dent in her favorite flats. “I saw him at a coffee shop today and it brought back a lot of emotions that I thought were starting to go away. We had only been together for, like, five months, but it still feels so … icky to think that it could’ve worked out and it didn’t.”

“Icky?” You repeated, and then let the word turn over in your brain. “That does feel quite icky, doesn’t it?”

“Very!” She huffed, her palms slapping against her sides. “Because here I am crying over a guy that clearly doesn’t like me anymore, and I can’t stop wondering if I’ll ever be good enough. Like … what is it about me that made our relationship not work?”

Sensing that this was going to be a longer conversation, you leaned against the faucet and leveled a look at her. “Jen, you can’t think like that. You’ll just make yourself go crazy, and I can guarantee that it wasn’t you in the first place.”

She sent you a soft smile. With the amount of times she came to you for advice, it almost felt weird to continuously thank you. “You know, when you turn – let’s say … 20 – you think that you have it all figured out by now. I thought this stuff would get easier, but I can’t help but feel like I’m in college all over again.”

A tingle ran through you, the kind that started at your hairline and trickled all the way down to your legs. Her words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, because you – the person who always had her life together, who pretended like she had it all figured out – constantly felt that way. Sometimes you wondered if you were that transparent, if everyone could tell that you liked fixing so you wouldn’t have to mend any of the problems in your own life. You weren’t just a body anymore. You were merely a piece of cling wrap, translucent and waiting to mold yourself to the next thing that needed you. 

But maybe that was just you being too in your head, because no matter what, everyone came to you. And you’d drop everything. It was easier than having to face the fact that you still felt so small, so 20-something, insecure and overworked in a body that was pushing 30. 

“No matter what age you are, you’re never gonna have your life completely together,” you mused, a small passing comment that you were hoping would end the conversation before it got too deep. Jennifer reached over you and grabbed another paper towel to wipe her nose. You took the opportunity to ask, “Are you … open to dating again? Seeing someone else can be the perfect way to get over Matty.”

Jennifer shrugged. “If the man is nice enough, sure.”

Wonwoo’s smile appeared in your head then, all the kind things he did for you over the years flashing through like a movie montage. You remembered the time he spent a whole week studying with you just so you would pass your Physics exam. The time he brought you a new pair of slacks when you split coffee all over yourself before a job interview. The time he picked you up from a Renaissance faire when it got flooded out. Or all the times he was there for you when he didn’t have to be.

He was nice enough. More than that. And yet, he hadn’t met anyone worth the effort.

You pushed off the edge of the sink. “You know, my friend, Wonwoo, wants to try dating again –”

Her eyes immediately flickered to yours. “The Wonwoo? As in your friend? I didn’t think he was single.”

“Why?” You cocked your head.

“Well, it’s just … the way you talk about him …” She was avoiding eye contact now. “And the way he was hanging off you when you brought him to last year’s company holiday party …”

You rolled your eyes. “To be fair, he got way more intoxicated than intended. Anyway, he’s very single, and actually … you two might get along.”

“How so?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. In that moment, you couldn’t think of one thing – not even a lie – to convince Jennifer to go out with your best friend. They didn’t have anything in common, but that wasn’t typically a requirement for Wonwoo. He liked different.

“Well, I … haven’t exactly thought that far yet,” you admitted, sending her an awkward smile. “But he’s nice. Extremely nice. And you’re good with conversation. He can be difficult to come out of his shell, but I think you could do it.”

She sighed, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror. The redness in her eyes had faded, and she admired the natural flush of her cheeks as she fidgeted with her hair again. Eventually, she looked at you again with a shy smile, and then whispered, “I did think he was pretty cute at the holiday party.”

The game development company Wonwoo worked for was nowhere close to your job, but when you asked him to go to lunch, he always came. He would say that it wasn’t a big deal, but the few times you went to go see him during lunch, it took you two trains to get to him, leaving you with only 20 mins to sit with him before you had to leave. It was a big deal, and yet, he didn’t complain.

He moved around one of his meetings just to come see you, texting you that the deadline for the prototype of their next game was due soon, so finding free time nowadays was scarce. But he still did it. For you. Because he knew you would do the same. He hopped on the two trains to get to you, walking the short block to the cafe you found that was close to the station. Opening the door for the elderly women leaving, Wonwoo squeezed in past them and found you sitting at a small table in the corner. He watched you for a moment, noticing the way your fingers tapped across your phone screen, most likely writing an urgent email to someone on your team. Even with your brow scrunched together like this, you were calm. The idea of being burdened with work settling you better than the green tea on the table. 

Wonwoo pushed past the line forming at the register, and your eyes immediately lifted, like you could sense his presence somehow. Your lips curled and you waved him over. His own smile was quick, afraid of looking too eager, although any time he got to see you made him excited. Slipping his backpack off his shoulders, he sat down in the seat opposite of you and saw the hot mug of black coffee already waiting for him.

“I just got you the dark roast because I know you’ve always liked it,” you said, turning your phone facedown. Wonwoo wrapped his hands around the mug as he tried warding off the winter chill outside. “Were the trains bad?”

“Not really, but they’ll probably get worse later when I’m on my way home.” He took a sip of the rich, warm beverage. “I don’t have long though. What was so urgent?”

You laced your hands on the table, and you had this look in your eye that always scared him. The kind that excited you, but whatever you had planned would be hell for everyone else. Judging by the way your gaze was focused on only him, he had a feeling that he alone was going to become your next project.

“What if I told you that I gave your number to Jennifer at work?” You grinned big.

The mug was at his mouth when he paused. He considered pinching himself to make sure that this was real. “Jennifer?” He asked, arching a brow. “The one that brought homemade jello shots to your holiday party last year?”

“Well,” you scoffed and laid out your hand, “they were good, weren’t they?”

He finally took a sip. “I guess so. Actually … I don’t know if I’ve ever understood the appeal of jello shots. Too messy.”

“You’re no fun, and off topic.” You let your finger trace the rim of your cup, filled halfway with lukewarm green tea. “I gave Jennifer your number because she’s interested in going on a date with you. Exciting, right?”

He blinked in your direction. Jennifer sounded familiar; when was the last time he heard about her? Maybe it was … “Wasn’t Jennifer the coworker you were helping a few weeks ago on movie night? You went into the bathroom to give her advice because her boyfriend was being weird.”

“The weird boyfriend is out of the picture now. Has been for weeks,” you shrugged. “And she admitted that she thought you were cute at the holiday party.”

His nose wrinkled a little. “You sure she isn’t just remembering me through the haze of the jello shots?”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare.

He flashed a smile. “Kidding.”

“Listen,” you said, clearing your throat. He raised his fingers – just slightly – but you were already tucking that stray hair behind your ear. “She’ll probably text you tonight to set up a date. Don’t give me that look, Wonwoo. No pressure. It’s just dinner.”

Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back in his chair. This didn’t surprise you; he was always hesitant. He made sure to think through all his choices, not impulsively like you preferred. That was why you two worked so well –

You shut down the thought before it could go further. You shouldn’t be reminiscing on your compatibility with your best friend. This was about you helping him.

He tilted his head slightly, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, like he did when he was anxious. His eyes crinkled. “Mingyu said once that you micromanage me sometimes.”

Your expression twisted at the mention of his roommate. “Says the president of micromanaging. He needs to mind his own business – literally. That’s what his restaurant is for.”

Wonwoo was silent again, taking small sips from the mug that was almost empty. Tapping his phone, he checked the time. He had maybe 10 minutes before he had to run back to the train station. Was he going to keep you on the edge of your seat this whole time? This was so dumb.

And you told him once over a bottle of soju that you hated edging anyway.

“You can say no,” you eventually muttered, leaning more into the table. “I just thought … maybe she could be worth the effort.”

His gaze met yours again, quick and intense. He opened his mouth once like he was about to refuse, and then closed it. One late night at your apartment, he told you that saying no to you felt like refusing care, which is why you wanted to remind him that he could. But at the end of the day … this was you. Out of everyone, you knew that flicker of change in his eyes, relenting.

For a moment, you wondered if he was going to ask something curious: 

“Does she actually like me?”

“Is she really open to a date?”

“Do you think I’ll like her?”

But he didn’t. Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Alright.”

A single word. Loaded. Like a bullet.

You blinked once, then twice, surprised. You expected a joke or his typical resistance. This … this couldn’t be his real answer.

Or maybe you were just overthinking things again.

“Okay, great. I think you’ll like her.” Your smile was quick, and then you were turning over your phone again. To text Jennifer, he assumed. The cafe was loud, but all he could hear in that moment was the sound of keyboard clicks. A message being sent. “She’ll probably choose a casual place. She always does when her and I go out. You don’t have to dress up. She’s funny and super easy to talk to.”

And then, you looked up, afraid you were coming off as inconsiderate. That wasn’t what you wanted in the slightest. You cared about him, maybe even a little more than you should.

You reached out, fingers finding his wrist. “And, hey, listen – no expectations.”

He glanced down, watching your thumb glide over his pulse point. You tried to ignore the quickening of it, but it was unavoidable. Horrifically loud and matching your own. And you were now wondering why you told him there were no expectations in the first place. It was ironic, wasn’t it? The whole date was an expectation.

This was a game of charades, and neither of you were going to win.

He nodded, and you retracted your hand onto your lap once again. “Got it,” Wonwoo agreed, committing to his role. He finished the last of his coffee and stood to his full height, making you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “I gotta go. I’ll watch out for an unknown number. Text me when you get home after work.”

You bobbed your head, staring at his back as he exited the cafe. When it was just you then, sitting on the booth side of your small table, your cup of green tea cold and abandoned in your hands, it was easy to let the mask slip. Confusion ebbed into your subconscious. Because you thought this was supposed to make you feel good – it always did. But you were suddenly filled with a bottomless pit of regret.

That night, with your sheets tucked up to your chin and your restless brain keeping you up, you thought, If he dates someone else, I’ll get over this. Whatever this is that I’ve been feeling forever.

Wonwoo – poor, sleepless Wonwoo, who was too tired of this act already but the thought of denying you felt like a wound – in his apartment across the city, pondered to himself, If I date someone else, maybe I’ll stop wanting her. She can still be in my life and I won’t lie awake wondering what it would be like if she was here with me.

As you both turned over to a cold pillow, you liked to believe it was all figured out. Inside, though, the two of you knew that life would never be that easy. 

Endless emails, unread texts, boring meetings made the week fly by, and soon enough, it was next Friday. The night of Wonwoo’s date with Jennifer. You saw her at the office earlier and she seemed … in good spirits, at the very least. “He really hadn’t texted me this week,” she complained to you at lunch. “But maybe he’s just one of those guys that doesn’t like to text before a first date.”

You smiled nervously. “He’s just … shy.” Your fingers tapped against her arm. “But hey! What are you planning on wearing tonight?”

Deflection had always been one of your super powers.

You had done your best this week to help him. Told him to text her to get to know her better. Got on FaceTime with him as he picked out the best “casual” outfit, whatever that meant. He was tired already, exhausted by the idea of something you didn’t want to pinpoint. So you tried getting him excited: you hyped up Jennifer as much as you possibly could. Tried to find similarities between them. They had the same taste in books – which was an absolute fighting start – and also … well, that might be it. But this was about chemistry, two people getting to know each other and feeling a pull so deep it rivaled magnets.

You had felt it once. Maybe twice, but you couldn’t identify exactly who was the second. You knew that you felt it with Sean; that’s why he wanted to see you so often back then, when things had gotten too much. They were good at first though, when you met him at a wine bar after you’d been stood up from a blind date. As soon as he looked at you from his bar stool, you felt the pull immediately. And his smile … he looked at you like you were something special, not like a sad excuse for a date. You chocked it up to him being older and more experienced, but someone else had looked at you like that. (Someone you just didn’t want to focus on.) 

Sean had gotten too exclusive too fast. It had been a lot for you to handle, but at his age, he knew what he wanted. “I want someone like you,” he had explained once. “Driven. Independent. But also soft, even when she doesn’t want to show it. If that’s asking for too much, I don’t know what to tell you.” 

His words were cutting, but you guessed you couldn’t blame him. What else was there to say when you told him the relationship was becoming a lot for you? He was a decade older than you. His time was running out while yours was just starting. Your chemistry was off the charts, but something wasn’t aligning. You just weren’t sure what yet.

This was the exact opposite outcome that you wanted for Wonwoo.

You had to become a coach, similar to the one you had for basketball in high school. Over FaceTime was the best chance to catch him, allowing you to teach him about body language and the best questions to ask. You taught him how to make the questions deeper but not too invasive, especially when one glass of wine turned into two. He took in all your information, nodding, but not saying anything. He knew not to question you. Although you hadn’t dated in a while, you knew exactly how women wanted to be talked to – something he typically had trouble with.

Wonwoo wasn’t good with talking to just about everybody. Besides you. Never with you.

You were pacing in your tiny living room as an episode of some reality show played quietly. You supposed that you should go take a shower, do your skincare, and put on your pajamas before settling in on the couch with your takeout. The perfect Friday night. But you were anxiously waiting on Jennifer’s text that she was arriving to the bar that her and Wonwoo agreed to meet at. It was kind of a dive, but the food was incredible, specializing in multiple macaroni and cheese dishes.

There was no way that this wouldn’t work. Jennifer had such a huge personality, one that invited you in and made you feel warm. You were sure that she would charm him.

Your phone dinged.

Jennifer: Just got here! He met me outside, even though it was snowing. Points!!!

You jumped on the balls of your feet, excitement flowing through you. Forcing yourself to finally hop in the shower, you couldn’t help but wonder why you had so much regret about this in the first place. You were grinning; this was good. Maybe the satisfaction of setting up this date wouldn’t be instant, but it was still there.

This was for Wonwoo, after all.

You were buzzing, waiting patiently for his text that he was on his way over. He promised you he’d stop by after the date and rehash all the details. This felt like college again. Your roommate for the first two years, Liz, had been far more popular with boys than you, and although you two weren’t the closest, you longed for the days when you stayed up past midnight, waiting for her to come back to your dorm and share all the juicy moments.

Wonwoo wasn’t similar to the average female freshman, but you knew you could pry some things out of him. At the end of the day, all you wanted was for him to be happy.

That’s what you told yourself.

When your phone finally went off, you were sitting on your couch in pajamas and your wet hair wrapped in a towel. You changed channels from before, but the reality show stayed the same. Texting him back, you scooped one last lo mein noodle in your mouth before getting up to brush back your wet strands. The door lock clicked open once you were back on the couch, the takeout carton lukewarm and abandoned on your coffee table, next to the vanilla cashmere candle you almost always had lit. 

Wonwoo shook the chill out of his body as soon as he stepped through the door, and you sat up, an immediate smile appearing on your face. It was amazing how just the arrival of someone could make you happy, but that had always been Wonwoo for you. He was dusting the snowflakes off his jacket as your feet – clad in your favorite fuzzy socks – padded over to him. “That didn’t take you long,” you chuckled, taking his winter gloves and placing them on the old space heater to get warm.

He hung up his coat on the door hang. “Well, I was halfway here when I realized I hadn’t texted earlier,” he explained, instantly gunning for the couch and plopping down in his usual spot. Plucking the carton from the coffee table, he leaned all the way back into the couch cushions and slurped a cold noodle into his mouth. He was silent, watching whatever fight was ensuing on the TV.

You head tilted, perplexed. Maybe it was strange for you to assume, but you thought he would be more … open about details. I mean, you did set him up in the first place. You hummed under your breath, grabbing the leftover chicken fingers and scallion pancakes on the kitchen counter before setting them on the coffee table.

“Soooooooooo …” You dragged the word as you fell into the cushion opposite of him, tucking one leg underneath you. His eyes slid to yours, unenthusiastic. You scoffed and hit his arm. “Why are you being so coy?”

He snorted. “I’m always coy. That’s part of my charm.”

“Just tell me how the date was.”

He shrugged, gaze back on the screen as he set down the takeout container. “It was fine,” he said politely before reaching for the remote. “Can we watch a movie instead?”

You intentionally moved the remote away from him and his eyes narrowed. “You have no right to glare at me when you’re being so secretive. It was just ‘fine?’”

“I guess … I –” His head fell back against the cushions, and then he glanced at you again. “Just fine. The food at the restaurant was good. We had a good time.”

You sat there, observing him, almost dumbfounded. Somehow, he was being even more vague than usual. Distracted. Usually, you could read him like a book, but there was something about his tone that you couldn’t detect.

So you tested his limits, got up in his space, despite the fact that your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest the closer you got. Lacing your hands on top of his right shoulder, you rested your chin on top of them and blinked up at him innocently. He slowly turned to face you, and you both tried to ignore how close your faces truly were, warm breath mingling with the other. His fingers twitched on his thigh, and you wondered if he could feel your heart thudding against his bicep.

“Can I help you?” He raised a brow.

“Tell me specifics,” you said, voice as sweet as honey. 

Wonwoo looked back in front of him – anything but your eyes – rubbing two fingers over his left temple. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sue me for wanting to know how the date I set my best friend on went,” you quipped, not moving one inch from your position. Your eyes narrowed. “Are you gatekeeping some kind of pertinent information? Or – oh, my God. Did you guys kiss?”

“No,” he answered immediately, meeting your eyes. His tone made your back straighten instantly, and he tried to recover by clearing his throat. “I mean – well … no. We didn’t kiss. She’s very pretty and has a great personality, but I don’t think her and I are … compatible.”

You nodded slowly. “What made you realize that?”

He sighed heavily, letting his hand fall back on his thigh. You noticed that his hands were still red from the cold, even though he had his best gloves on. So you grabbed your heating pad from the other side of the couch before he began to speak, plugging it in behind him and wrapping it around his hands, before plopping back down beside him.

Wonwoo was silent as he looked down, the feeling gradually returning back to his hands. He was used to you doing this sometimes: taking care of him, micromanaging him, like he had been your project since college. He couldn’t deny that he liked it, but there was some moments that still left him stunned. It was as if taking care of him came as second nature to you.

When were you going to let him reciprocate?

You poked his arm, interrupting the thought before it could take root. “What were you gonna say?”

He exhaled again and got comfortable in the old cushions. “We talked about our interests – and it didn’t bother me that we didn’t have a lot in common. It was just … I don’t think I’m what she’s looking for. Or what she needs. And then, we started talking about work and that really cemented it for me. We actually talked more about you than anything –”

He stopped himself, eyes flickering to you before he realized you were blowing out the flame on the dying candle. Collecting himself, he added, “I just don’t think we’re going to work. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t a great person. She was really nice.” He shrugged and finally met your eyes again. His smile was bored, almost cat-like. “Done with your investigation?”

“I guess so,” you relented, turning back to face the TV beside him. Your hips were brushed against each other, pinkies so close to intertwining, but neither of you moved. “Unless you want me to ask more?”

He cut you a look. “Absolutely not.” Reaching out, his fingers plucked a scallion pancake from the container on the coffee table, and his smile got even bigger in your direction. “Want to finally watch In the Mood for Love? C’mon, you know you want to.”

III.

Locked down my by side even when I’m borderline, I don’t even know why I push you away. –CHARLI XCX

Bringing yourself to work on Monday was more of a chore than usual. You hadn’t been sleeping right. Your back hurt. And you just ran out of your favorite shampoo. Cementing yourself into adulthood was harder than you imagined in your early twenties. Now you actually had to care about making time before work to stop off at the store to grab essentials. 

But maybe today would be good. The crew repainting the office garage smiled at you. The barista at the small coffee shop in the lobby told you that your latte was on the house. You were wearing a new pair of kitten heels and dare I say, you at least looked good. The boatneck sweater your mom gifted you two Christmases ago magically fit and paired well with the jeans you were sporting. It almost made you forget how badly your spine ached. Almost.

After getting a significant amount of emails answered that morning, you headed to the kitchen where your hummus snack that you bought earlier was stored. You noticed Jennifer leaving through the other door just as you were entering, making you pause to wave. “Oh, hey, J–”

Jennifer scrambled away before you could even finish your greeting. Quickly grabbing your snack, you followed her out the same door and attempted to catch up to her. “Hey!” You exclaimed, placing a light hand on her shoulder. “Jen, what are you –”

She turned, attempting to act casual, but you knew Jennifer was incapable of pretending. “Oh, h–hi. Sorry, must’ve not seen you back there.”

You let your hand fall as your brow knitted together. “Must have,” you replied suspiciously. “I meant to text you all weekend, but time got away from me. Did you have fun on the date? Wonwoo hardly shared any details.”

Her lips sealed for a moment, until she eventually muttered, “Oh.”

Tilting your head, you remarked, “Oh?”

“That came out wrong.” She held a hand up, collecting herself. A couple of your coworkers squeezed past and you both waved. Lowering her voice slightly, she continued, “He was nice. Dry sense of humor, but still funny. Gentleman enough to walk me back to my car. But …”

You blinked, hanging off the edge of your invisible seat. You felt like a cat right now and she was dangling a treat right in front of you, teasing you with more to come.

Jennifer scoffed and finally gave in. “But I thought you said he had a personality. At least, that’s how you always made him seem.”

Her answer made your head jerk back in surprise. “Wait –”

“I was basically carrying the whole conversation,” she added. “It really didn’t seem like he wanted to be there. When you brought him to that holiday party, he was pretty engaged in conversation, but when it’s just him … I don’t know.”

You thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo after the date. It was fine, he had said in that bored fucking tone of his. Of course, he was bored. Because he had been the boring one in the first place. Now you were pissed – and confused at the same time. You wasted all that time setting up this date, and yet …

A sigh escaped you. He probably let his nerves get the best of him. Your mother used to say that you shouldn’t cry over spilt milk – or in this case – a bad date. There was no need to get worked up over it, but you just wished he had been honest in the first place. 

Maybe you could start with being honest about how you f–

You stopped that thought right in its tracks.

“Truthfully,” Jennifer said, bringing your eyes back to hers, “the most he talked during the date was … well –” She scratched her temple. “– Was about you.” 

Your body went rigid, back straightening as if it hadn’t been tense since you woke up. Fingers lacing together in front of you, your lips pursed, trying to think of a suitable response, but … nothing was coming to you. Not one word.

Jennifer tested the waters and prodded further. Leaning into your space, she asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two –”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in immediately, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “We’re just friends. Have been for years. We just … have a lot of history that he likes to talk about.”

She stared at you, not fully convinced.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Listen,” you huffed, “I’m sorry the date didn’t go well. I know I set you up on it, so I don’t want you to think I had … I don’t know. Ill intent, or something. I really did think you two would get along and he’d come out of his shell.”

A slow smile appeared on her lips. “It’s not your fault. Compatibility is a fickle thing. It only happens, like, maybe twice in everyone’s life.” She shrugged. “Shit happens, and hey, I got a free dinner. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

You laughed, felt her squeeze back on your hand, before you walked back together to your respective desks. Slamming down into your creaky seat, you lifted your head over your cubicle wall and sent another smile, before bending back in your chair and sighing. Your eyes scanned your desk, lingering on the Polaroid of you and Wonwoo from a few years ago, crookedly taped to your monitor. You narrowed your eyes at his face, as if you could burn him.

Whipping your phone out, you opened up your text thread with your best friend.

You: I thought you said the date was fine

Wonwoo: ? Hello to you too

You: just answer the question

Wonwoo: Where is the question exactly?

You: did the date with Jennifer not go okay??

Wonwoo: It was fine. I told you that

You: I just talked to Jennifer at the office and she told me you barely talked. I understand that maybe I got your compatibility wrong, but I think you neglected to tell me some things

Wonwoo: I’m sorry. In my defense, I’ve never been much of a talker. She was doing just fine

You: omfg You: you’re literally impossible. I’m just trying to help you

You watched the text bubble appear and disappear for a straight minute. Originally, you saw no problem with the text you sent, but then you started overthinking. Was what you said too harsh? Maybe you should’ve added a playful emoji at the end. He had been typing and retyping for two minutes now, causing you to start biting at the skin around your nails. He could’ve simply been caught up with something at work and not able to multitask. It wasn’t that deep – at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Wonwoo: I’m not trying to be impossible. [UNSENT] Wonwoo: I didn’t meant to be dishonest. [UNSENT] Wonwoo: I didn’t ask for your help. [UNSENT]

Finally, the text bubble stopped. Your phone pinged with a new message. You quickly glanced at the text thread to see one single line from your best friend.

Wonwoo: I’ll try harder next time.

Another coincidental situation. Another setup emerged. As your old friend, Holly, lamented to you about missing her ex-boyfriend from two years ago over the phone, you wondered if maybe – just maybe – she would do well on a date with Wonwoo. You supposed that listening better while she complained about Derek was probably a better idea, but your mind still wandered.

You were laying on your bed after a shower, legs bent up on the headboard while your head was near the end of the mattress, wet hair wrapped in a towel. Your phone rested beside your right ear and you were picking at the hangnail that just wouldn’t come off your thumb. Mind elsewhere, you thought about what a date with Holly and Wonwoo would look like. Maybe a diner. Maybe a pub with live music. She loved a “Dad rock” cover band every now and then. 

It might’ve been more wise to deliberate on what your best friend’s last text meant rather than picture what his next date would look like. But this was easier. More simpler than revisiting the implications of seeing Wonwoo on dates with beautiful and uncomplicated women you set him up with. Women that he might be uninterested in, and for what reason? Could it explain why he looked at you like that sometimes, like he was taking you apart piece by piece before putting you back together again?

You rubbed at your eyes. Yeah, definitely not thinking about that again.

“I shouldn’t even be talking about Derek right now,” Holly huffed through the speaker. “We broke up because he was an ass sometimes, but when he wasn’t … these are the times I miss him.”

You let your hands fall onto your stomach. You both tried to call and catch up every other month, so how did almost all of them loop around to Derek? He was still on her mind, even two years after the breakup. “You deserve a better love, Holl,” you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

All her dates over the past couple of years were duds. She only went on them every so often, but you wondered if the problem was that she was going out with people she met at clubs. Holly was so cool – not many people could juggle the corporate world while going to see their favorite DJs at clubs and make it to a community theater audition the next morning. But not many men understood her, liked her quirks, or they were just meatheads she met at clubs and eventually revealed that they had no personality. 

She was a catch. Always had been, since the day you met her in the women’s restroom at a concert. The best kind of friendships always formed when you were drunk in the bathroom. Holly didn’t live near you, but you both tried to catch up when you could. Her life fascinated you to no end, and she had to be one of the most charismatic people you ever met, constantly endearing people in every room she entered.

You had no doubt that she’d charm Wonwoo. Of course, you assumed the same about Jennifer, but Holly was … different. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it. If anyone could get him to talk, she could.

“I’ve been buggin’ because I want to go out to this place that he introduced me to. A Mexican restaurant in the city. The most bomb guacamole you’ll ever have, and made fresh in front of you,” she continued.

Your brow furrowed. “So why don’t you go?”

“I run the risk of Derek being there. He did show it to me. I just don’t want an awkward conversation.”

It was like a light bulb appeared above your head. “What if you went there with a date? Derek probably wouldn’t come up to you if he saw you with another guy. And if he is there, would it be so bad to piss off your ex the slightest bit?”

“Well, duh,” she snickered. “But where is this date you speak of? All my current flings have ghosted. I’m a free woman.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, smirking down at your phone screen, even though she couldn’t see you. “I’ve been trying to get my friend, Wonwoo, out on some dates. Have I introduced you guys before?”

“Hmm … Wonwoo …” She paused. “That’s your friend with the big glasses, right? The one in most of your Instagram pics? Truthfully, I …” A soft laugh escaped. “I thought you guys were together.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Well –”

“It doesn’t matter.” You huffed, looking through your contacts to share his number with her. “I can set it up, if you want. And send you his number, vice versa. He’s shy, but he’s talkative around the right people. The date could be fun for both of you.”

She took a moment to mull it over, and then said, “Okay. Yeah. I’m down.”

You grinned, already texting his contact info to her. “Excellent.”

“So you’re doing the set up thing again?”

Your tongue clicked, and you paused, debating her question. “Just for Wonwoo. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just …” That laugh again, trying to simmer the sudden tension fizzling down the line.   “You told me once that you like doing stuff like this to distract yourself from whatever you’re currently feeling. Or if something tough is going on. You just … like to make someone else’s life better so you can forget what’s going on in yours. Is everything okay?”

“Okay, I told you that over one too many glasses of wine at an Olive Garden,” you replied instantly. “And I’m fine. Promise. I gotta go.”

You ended the call after you both said your goodbyes, and then laced your fingers together before resting your chin on top of them. Did you really tell her that once? How messy. It wasn’t exactly … untrue, but you’d never admit that. Everyone needed a good distraction sometimes, and if this was yours, then so be it. You liked seeing others happy. It was the kind of serotonin that money couldn’t buy.

If Wonwoo really didn’t want this … he would’ve told you.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Speak of the devil, you should probably tell him that you gave a random woman his number. Again. You sat up in bed, took your wet hair out of the towel, and wrung it out while opening up your texts with your free hand. Your slipper-clad feet hung off the edge, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your fingers began to swipe across the keyboard.

You: hi You: I got you another date You: so if you get a random message, it’s my friend, holly. she’s really nice and funny

You locked your phone. It dinged instantly. 

Wonwoo: Oh? Wonwoo: Her text came just as I was about to log off of League. Thought it was spam lol

You bit down on one of your fingernails, right knee curling towards your chest. His playful tone always made you feel warm like this, and you were suddenly questioning how normal that should be.

You: not spam lol You: just text her and feel it out, but I think she’d 100% be down for a date. she wants someone to take her out to this mexican restaurant 

Wonwoo: Alright. Sounds good to me.

His mood switch made your brow furrow. Each word sounded like a pause, like he was struggling to type two measly sentences. You should leave it there, not let it get too far, but then you were typing –

You: I won’t coach you again before this date lol. I think it made you a wee bit nervous on the last one

Wonwoo: Maybe a little

A minute passed. You assumed the conversation was over for now. Standing from your bed, you padded over to your bathroom and threw your damp towel in the laundry basket. Your phone sat on your bed as you brushed through your wet hair, completely unaware that the screen had lit up again with another text.

 Wonwoo: I’ll be better this time.

IV.

In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. –RICHARD SIKEN

Friday rolled around faster than you thought. Holly had been texting you all day about her excitement for this date, but truthfully, you weren’t sure if she was more excited to meet Wonwoo or go back to his restaurant without worrying about Derek. Wasn’t any of your business. 

At some point, you had to slide your phone into your pocket to get off at a different stop on the subway. Trudging through the rain, you managed to snag some of the greasiest Japanese takeout imaginable: vegetable tempura, karaage (your favorite), kushikatsu, and of course, some yakisoba. This was another one of your favorite spots that was poorly reviewed. Even the owner apologized for the mess as he handed the bag over to you, but you already couldn’t wait to dig in. You practically sprinted the couple of blocks back to your apartment, narrowly missing every puddle that came into your path, before you were hurdling through the door.

You went through your routine, regimented as always. After washing your face and putting on your comfiest pajamas, you sat on the floor and pulled out some sweet potato tempura. You practically had a feast laid out on your coffee table, paired with paper plates that were soaked through with oil and your favorite pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. You only wished, selfishly, that your takeout buddy was here to share it with you. And he would be. Later on. Once the food turned cold.

Scrolling through your phone, you found it strange that Holly didn’t keep up with you when she was on her way to the date. You guess that – again – wasn’t your business, but you were curious. You did set them up though. Wasn’t it normal to be this curious? Or maybe you were simply –

You paused, sticking your chopsticks in the yakisoba carton before your thoughts got too serious. You were an over thinker, could debate on topics for hours that truly did not matter, constantly wishing that you weren’t stuck in the deep chasm that was your own head. Sometimes it seemed that the only person who could pull you out was … Wonwoo.

Wonwoo.

His name echoed before you could stop it. Like you always do. And the grieving reality settled in from the mess of your own making. A pang of regret. This wasn’t the usual dopamine you got from fixing, and maybe that was because nothing needed to be fixed in the first place –

Your phone pinged. And there it was – that pause. When the thoughts got too loud and you finally focused on your best friend’s name lighting up your phone screen. 

Wonwoo: On my way to your place. Might be a bit. The bus is taking its time

You were grounded again, worries vanishing like a speck of dust in the wind. Instead of taking a day like with Jennifer, you were going to be proactive this time. After answering Wonwoo, you scrolled down to your texts with Holly and quickly tapped your fingers across the screen.

You: how was the date ?!

You started crunching on multiple pieces of karaage when her reply came through.

Holly: man, the food is just as great as I remembered. we didn’t even see Derek, so I guess I didn’t have much to worry about lmao. but I’m glad we went and I think he also enjoyed it! he said something about showing you the restaurant sometime too!

Your brow raised. She was dodging the real question.

You: that sounds great! I was more so asking what you thought of wonwoo lol, but I’m glad it went well <3!!!

Holly: he’s great. a total gentleman. I just don’t think we have much in common Holly: he picked out the most delicious spicy margaritas for us though

You: really??? I set you guys up because I thought you two had more in common

That was somewhat a lie and you knew it. They played a couple of the same video games, when Holly had time to turn on her Playstation, and you thought Wonwoo enjoyed theater. Somewhat. At least, he pretended to really well that one time you got free tickets to Les Misérables and brought him. 

Holly: yeah, we do somewhat. we read the same books and a few video games. I just don’t think he was into it. or maybe he just wasn’t into me idk

You: I’m sorry it didn’t work out. thank you for being honest and letting me know!

Holly: of course! he’s not a bad guy at all, but we just aren’t compatible. our worlds don’t align just yet, which is okay <3 he was also shy like you said and did talk a lot more as the date went on. he talks about you in a way I’ve never seen before. I can tell he cares a lot about you

You: I care a lot about him too [UNSENT]

Your head whipped to the left when you heard Wonwoo turning your spare key in the lock. Finishing off the piece of karaage in your mouth, you fired back one last reply.

You: he always keeps me on my toes. talk to you soon!

His ears were pink from the last of the winter cold. It was the middle of March and spring would soon be upon them. Stepping into your apartment, he released a gruff sigh and let the warmth of the place seep through him. He was staring at you before you even looked up to meet his eyes. Your outfit spoke to how comfortable you were around him: the oldest pair of plaid pajama pants, your fluffy robe with a coffee stain on the front that just never came out, and a large t-shirt. Thin. White. Robe untied and allowing him to see everything. He swallowed and placed his gloves on the space heater like usual, then hung up his jacket. You were carrying multiple takeout cartons to the kitchen island as he stood in the front doorway, not bothering to greet as he helped you place them on the surface before they all fell out of your arms. 

He didn’t need to always say, “Hello.” This apartment was just as much his home as it was yours.

Kicking his shoes off near the door, you watched him peel open the flimsy lid of one carton. “Thank God. I was having a craving,” he said, plucking a piece of carrot tempura and taking a large bite.

You retied your robe carelessly and crossed your arms over your chest. “So …” You fought the urge to flick his arm as he grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. “How was it?”

“Good,” he answered quickly, as if the word was already on the tip of his tongue. Gathering a pile of yakisoba in his chopsticks, he slurped it all before adding, “She’s really nice.”

Silence. The kind that made you feel prickly, anxious from head to toe. You arched a brow. “Was it, though?”

Wonwoo crunched on another tempura piece and sent you a wary look. He always knew when you were trying to get something out of him, but you had never been the one to be coy. “I said that, didn’t I?”

“Were you into her?” You inquired further, eyes narrowed. You couldn’t blame him for his attitude, especially when your questions were a bit aggressive, but after texting with Holly, you just wanted to see if he’d have the same reaction as her.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, walking over to the sink to wash the grease off his hands. “I guess.”

Rounding the kitchen island, you let your hip press into the counter as you studied him: the way he wasn’t looking at you, the nervous tick of washing around the ring on his pinky. He was running his hands under the warm water now, longer than he had to be. “You don’t sound like you’re into her though,” you said over the loud faucet.

He turned it off with the squeaky lever and wrung his hands over the side. His frustration that he kept inside so diligently was tipping over the surface, like boiling water. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally replied, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. “You’re interrogating me. Why?”

Your mouth fell open slightly. “I … I’m not interrogating.” You tried to prove your point, how casual you were being about this, by reaching over to grab a skewer of pork kushikatsu. Biting into it, you shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

His hand was still damp and he pressed it to his forehead, feeling the warm droplets trickle down his temple, grounding him. “Maybe I’m just … this is a lot harder than it looks. I’m not used to talking to so many new people.” When he opened his eyes, they were practically pleading. For what, you didn’t know. Yet. 

You licked at the corners of your lips, relenting, your shoulders ablaze from the burden of  carrying all the tension since sophomore year on your back. The tension you were desperately trying to smoke out. You relaxed and carefully curled your hands around his wrists. His body was frozen as you positioned him in front of you. Wonwoo realized what you were doing, providing a visual like you were both sitting across from each other on a date, but with you leaning against the stained counter like this, robe undone again, his mind wandered to a place he shouldn’t. Back in his dorm room. Your legs around his head. Your fingers tugging at his hair as he buried his face further between your thighs.

And while you couldn’t get what he was thinking, you could see in his eyes that it was something too dangerous to describe.

You cleared your throat, watching him blink. “Maybe … it would help for you to go into these dates as if they were a job interview,” you explained, your tone sounding suspiciously recognizable. Work-like. Professional who sits in a cubicle.

His eyes narrowed.

“Don’t give me that look. What I mean is … not stiff. Not nervous. Just … open body language. That’s what people are attracted to.” You took a moment, originally trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but for the purpose of your point … you placed your foot in front of you. Just one step. But it still made both your pulses jump. “And it’ll make them move closer to you.”

He physically felt his pupils dilate as he looked down at you. Wringing his hands again, he shook your grip off his wrists, noticing how fast his heart was beating. “You sound ridiculous,” he deflected. “You’re talking like how you do on the phone with your boss. This isn’t a performance review.”

Your face fell, brows pulling together. “This isn’t ridiculous, Wonwoo. You know that. I’m just trying to help.”

Something flickered in his expression then. Your words triggered his foot: one step closer, and then another. The gap between you so small that you felt the heat of his body. The small of your back was biting into the edge of the counter, head tilting up to meet his dark eyes behind his glasses. His gaze traveled, lingering on your pursed lips, moving down to where he could practically see the thump of your heart. The fabric of your white t-shirt, hiding your skin from his, and how he longed to push it up to see all of you. You hadn’t even let him see your chest when you hooked up all those years ago: too shy, too afraid of vulnerability to take off even your shirt. But now you both were nearing 30 and the only thing separating you two was this thin t-shirt that was becoming his biggest fucking enemy. 

His stare flickered up before it could go too long, but he saw it. The way your nipples pebbled beneath the shirt. The tension between you two seeping from your shoulders to his like a tug of war.

“I think …” Wonwoo’s voice was low, intimate, like two fingers between your thighs. Simmering through the most private parts of you that so little people had seen.

The heel of his palms pressed into the lip of the counter, caging you. Your eyes closed, almost in surrender, easing under the warmth of his hot breath fanning your face. “I think what would help me is if –”

He immediately stopped. Your eyes opened and met his. There was something so familiar about his expression. He looked … you couldn’t put your finger on it. But your mind was flashing back to a memory: his dark eyes burning into yours, glasses slightly askew, a halo headband that was cutting into the sides of your ears, the damp autumn leaves at your feet and the buzz of tequila in your system. A memorable Halloween night from a few years back. All of that reflecting in the face of the man in front of you. Your best friend. Who was now looking at you like he was hearing something from the past in his head.

Your brow raised. He took a step back.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. 

Just three words, shutting down an entire conversation before it could even start.

You shook your head, brows drawing together and voice suddenly desperate. “It does matter. You can tell me. You’re … you’re my best friend.”

He winced. Just for a second, but you saw it. 

“No, it’s … it’s fine. Seriously,” he added, even as the tips of his fingers were lightly grazing your knuckles, making every hair on your body stand up. Your toes curled inside your socks. “We – I can try again. I promise, I’ll have more open body language.”

His smile was so sweet, agreeing to your every whim because he knew that was the best way to get you off of something. But not tonight, because you both knew why he was doing this. It was that push and pull again – when feelings began to rise over that structured wall you both built brick by back, one of you had to push it down. 

And the realization of that – of what almost could have been – was making you panic and want him closer all at the same time.

Wonwoo rounded the island and grabbed the carton of yakisoba before crossing the short distance to the couch. He kicked back, digging into the greasy noodles that would surely do a number on his stomach later. Without looking back at you, he asked, “Wanna rewatch Clueless again?”

You stood in the kitchen and gripped the edge of the counter, attempting to calm your racing heart. Like clockwork, his voice from the living room centered you, reminded you that everything was going to be okay. Things were still good. It was just you and Wonwoo. Friends.

Mustering the best smile you could offer, you grabbed the lukewarm karaage and quipped, “As long as you promise not to insult my girl, Cher, ever again.”

Wonwoo left your apartment a little over halfway into the movie, falling asleep with stray yakisoba noodles on the collar of his sweater. You couldn’t blame him: it was midnight and his body naturally got tired at 11, no matter how much sleep he got. He made sure to help you clean up all the takeout, even in his tired state, and slipped a twenty underneath the candle on your coffee table for always feeding him, knowing you wouldn’t except it unless forced. You walked him to the door, and he lingered – just for a moment – his sleepy gaze on yours while his fingers jerked slightly on the doorframe. Something between you two ached, but not enough to grasp.

So he left with a faint, “Goodnight,” and headed down the stairs for the subway.

The door shut softly, leaving you alone again in your apartment, and the silence was … overwhelming. The kind where you could actually hear a pin drop. Not even your upstairs neighbors were fighting. It was just you, and your own thoughts, as you stood in your kitchen, replaying the conversation that happened earlier.

I think what would help me is if –

An unsettling shiver rolled through you. Back pressed against the door, you sank down until your ass hit the floor and your knees were drawn to your chest. You buried your face in the collar of your coffee-stained robe. I can try again, he had said. I promise. You rubbed at your eyes, wishing the words would leave your head. But they were on loop like a merry-go-round.

You pressed your chin into your palm. Sighing, you realized that you should’ve taken a shower earlier. Your hair was so dirty and you didn’t want to go to bed smelling like takeout. But you suddenly couldn’t move, too consumed by his responses – or lack thereof. 

Your brain was like a remote. You hit pause, then rewind, over and over again until all you could see was Wonwoo in your head. You replayed his hesitation, the way his mouth shut immediately. When his upper lip twitched. His jaw tightening with restraint. And his eyes – the way they softened before he let himself get too close. It was the kind of affection you didn’t show to just a friend, but for someone more. 

Maybe he was just frustrated, you told yourself. Because what other explanation could there be?

You were too complicated for him. Not worth the effort. And the fear of ruining your friendship was too risky to bear.

But then your skin prickled and you realized … this bothered you. Not in the funny way. This bothered you because you hated that you didn’t know what he wanted to say. You hated the not knowing, the waiting on the edge of your seat. The suspicion. Because he shouldn’t have looked at you like … like that. Better yet: you shouldn’t want him to look at you like that. 

You thought, just for a mere second, What if he – 

And stopped yourself. 

This wasn’t about you. It couldn’t. Wonwoo was discouraged and tired after the bad dates. Anyone would be. That was the reason for his hesitation, the jaw setting, his fingers grazing your knuckles as if he was begging to hold your hand.

Placing your palm against your forehead now, you closed your eyes and mulled over every scenario. Swiping through solutions in your head like a Powerpoint presentation: simple, sensical, because this would always be easier than being truthful with yourself. You were strong; you could always carry more weight added to your burden.  

“I can fix this,” you muttered to yourself, and instantly got to your feet. You practically ran to where your phone was laying idly on the side of the couch and threw yourself onto the cushions. Opening your Notes app faster than ever before, you began typing up all of Wonwoo’s interests. Completely focused. Before you could let any more thoughts get the better of you.

Perhaps it was time you found someone similar to him.

V.

If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets. –HARUKI MURAKAMI

You wished you could be one of those people who read a book to wind down before bed. Or someone that drank tea and meditated. Someone that experienced true relaxation. But, unfortunately, your brain was always wired, and the only way you found a little sense of peace was from the mere swipe of your thumb on your phone screen.

It wasn’t all play though – scrolling through whatever social media that was your poison for the night allowed you to gather intel for Wonwoo’s next date. Despite him not asking about it. Despite the sting you felt in your chest each time you wrote a name down in your Notes app. You persevered, scrolling until the light made your eyes burn and you knew it was time to finally sleep. In just a few hours, your eyes would be back on a screen again. Your life revolved around light and screens, ignoring the tension that yanked at your heartstrings every day.

Eventually, you felt a shift when your Instagram feed refreshed to show a new post: Harin, one of your old friends from college. The first person to make you pause and sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. The fairy lights above your head flickered, needing new batteries, but your attention remained focused on swiping through the set of pictures she posted. 

Harin, you realized, had gotten much more attractive since senior year of undergrad, when you both lived in the same building. She was dying her hair darker, gotten Invisalign to straighten her teeth, even cleared up her acne. It had been years since you last saw her – maybe even since graduation – but Harin had always been … easy going. Helpful. Popular, but also a little nerdy. The kind of girl who didn’t overcomplicate things. Nothing like you.

You picked at the edge of the pimple patch on your chin, because you hadn’t been so lucky with your hormonal acne that came back once in a blue moon. She posted a picture with an abnormally tall glass of beer, then some with people in costume, with the final photo of her in front of brightly-lit booth. She went to some video game convention out of state, the same one Wonwoo had talked to you about for 40 minutes a couple weeks back. Your teeth sank down into your lip, concentrating, as you clicked on her profile and began looking through all her old posts. 

Mutual connections. (You both had several.) Tagged posts. (Did she have any bad angle?) Her story highlight that documented her Letterboxd reviews. (You dreamed of watching this many movies in a year.) There was something here. Maybe there wasn’t chemistry – only time would tell – but there was alignment, something everyone needed in their lives. A sense of symmetry. Two pieces that fit so perfectly that it was shocking they never crossed paths before.

You sat back more, playing with a strand of damp hair while zooming in on a picture of her from a concert she went to a year ago – some niche band you might’ve heard Wonwoo also mention. Her smile was effortless. Her hair was shorter and she had star earrings that dangled from her lobes. And suddenly, a thought hit you, cutting, like a blade: He wouldn’t have to explain himself to her. They would just click.

Biting the end of your fingernail, you processed the future before it even had seeds to take root. A bad habit that you weren’t willing to break now, because this could work. Harin made sense. Wonwoo and Harin made better sense.

No more weird looks. No more charged pauses. The dust would settle between you and the man that had been your best friend for nearly a decade.

You swiped to DM her before you could stop yourself.

You drafted a message. It was long, too personal, so you deleted it.

Redrafted, and still, too much. Frustration poured out of you. Why did every message feel like too much pressure? You needed to keep this simple.

You: hey, harin! you seem like you’re doing really well. weird question – are you single? I think you would really get along with my friend. you both like the same things!

The message was perfect, so why was your thumb hesitating over the send button? There was no reason to hesitate; you never did. You were impulsive, almost to a fault sometimes. You could stop this. Close the app and be honest with yourself for once. Quit pushing your feelings down and drowning yourself with work. You could – 

Sent.

Your lips pursed. You set your phone down and hugged your knees to your chest, the clean sheets pooling over your bare feet. The room was still, colder than before. Maybe even quieter, although you didn’t quite understand how that was possible. You hadn’t breathed properly in more than a minute. Then, somewhere deep, past your ribs where your greatest desires roamed free, a tiny voice escaped to ask, What if he doesn’t want someone else? What if he wants you?

But you didn’t let yourself process the words, because your phone dinged and – shit, Harin had answered you. She was thrilled to hear from you, congratulated you on your accomplishments. Conveniently, she was now living just outside of the same city, but she seemed uncertain. I don’t typically do blind dates, she wrote. So you made it easy for her by sending a picture of Wonwoo – the one you took of him last winter, when he was carrying both large buckets of popcorn before you went to go see an anniversary screening of Twilight – and she immediately agreed to meet him for a date in the city.

You shared his Instagram profile with her, telling her to message him on there. Maybe texting was too much pressure on him. Maybe her taking the initiative and messaging him on a safe place like Instagram would give him less anxiety. That seemed to be the source of his issues. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

She was so kind, so excited to reach out that she was asking for advice on the perfect message. And you thought, for once, this might be the date that actually worked out, but you’d been let down by Wonwoo time and time again. No one seemed to be worth the effort. But Harin could be.

You didn’t tell Wonwoo that you sent his profile to Harin, but he kind of figured you were behind the sudden DM he got from a woman totally and completely out of his league. You weren’t exactly hiding your involvement; you were simply … letting Harin do the work. And maybe your assumptions had been right after all, because when Wonwoo texted to let you know that he knew you set him up with Harin, he seemed … more inclined to go on the date than usual.

You weren’t sure how it was possible, but you felt both the satisfaction of being right and stab of something sharp in your heart all at once. Neglecting the latter was easier said than done.

He told you their date was on Thursday night, and conveniently, you were stuck at the office for longer than usual, making sure the latest marketing project with in tip-top shape before you submitted it to the VP tomorrow. Even your subordinates stayed well past their time, wanting to make sure you didn’t have to be at the office alone. It was 7 PM when you all finally left, and you sprinted fast enough to make the 7:15 train, which – of course – was packed to the brim. You were squished like sardines next to an old man who smelled of cigarettes, and you found yourself pushing through the crowd as soon as your stop arrived.

It was strange that you hadn’t heard from Wonwoo yet about the date, but you tried not to think about it that much as you got through the doorway of your apartment. Too tired to even call for takeout, you toed off your office heels near the door and settled on a frozen dinner. There weren’t even any leftovers in the fridge. As you placed the hard brick of lasagna in the preheated oven, you phone pinged and you retrieved it faster than you liked to admit, heart hammering in your chest.

Wonwoo: On my way over :)

Your brow arched. Since when the hell did he text smiley faces? You set the phone back down, and irritatingly threw your hair up into the most unkempt ponytail imaginable, loose strands hanging from the backside of your head. Why were you so frustrated? An emoji didn’t mean anything. And there was nothing to be angry about. Your mind was still lingering on work, projecting your exhaustion onto such a non-issue –

The door opened just as you were pulling the now bubbling lasagna from the oven, setting it on the kitchen island before looking up at your best friend. Spring had definitely come, because Wonwoo was wearing a striped button up that was halfway tucked into his jeans and a light jacket. His hair was messy, as if someone had ran their hands through it, and he had a smile on his lips that was … real. Not tired or forced. Genuine.

The room shifted and neither of you had even said anything yet.

“Hi,” you addressed immediately, realizing his gaze had drifted down. Too caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t even noticed that he had been taking in your disheveled blouse, the pencil skirt that hugged your hips too perfectly, the sheer black tights that made him jealous of any man at work who got to see you in them.

But then his stare was instantly on yours as soon as you spoke. His smile reached his eyes and he replied, “Hey.” It was casual, sure, but there was … energy behind it. The kind of energy you never heard from him before.

You stuck your fork in the lasagna, and before you could even place it in your mouth, he dipped his pinky in the red sauce. Your chin tilted up, watching his expression sour. “It’s tastes …”

You leveled a look at him.

“– Better than anything I could’ve made,” he recovered, and you noticed the pep in his step as he headed for the living room, tossing his jacket on the coat rack.

You paused, eyeing him with suspicion from the kitchen, before looking back down at your sad excuse for a dinner. It was late. You were tired. And instead of eating the greasy goodness of takeout, you were left here with a shitty lasagna and your best friend who looked like he had far too much fun on the date you set him up on.

This wasn’t time for a pity party.

Rounding the corner, you carried your foil tin of lukewarm lasagna to the couch and  sat down beside him. You crossed your legs and anxiously pulled at the hem of your pencil skirt before asking, “Did the date go well?”

His smile got bigger and you had to fight the urge to throw up the huge bite of shitty pasta in your mouth. Usually, his debriefs were short and flat. Lacking any kind of emotion because clearly all he wanted to do was watch a movie with you. But he was speaking a little louder this time, gesturing with his hands as he said, “It was … really good actually.”

He went on to talk about the arcade bar they went to, one she knew about before him. He eagerly told you about how she laughed at all of his jokes, especially the bad ones, and how they were into almost the same things. Video games, music, even the same soju flavor. How the fuck had you set something up so perfect? You had to stuff forkfuls of lasagna in your mouth just to stop your teeth from grinding down.

But … wasn’t this your plan after all?

“She’s also really funny,” Wonwoo continued, breaking you out of your thoughts. He ran a hand down his face, as if remembering something she said. “You were right about the game thing. I don’t know many people that have played Arctic Warfare, and she’s apparently good at it. She told me her rank. Crazy. We kept arguing about this mechanic in the game that always makes my brain go –” He shook his hands in the air, laughing at the memory.

Your tone remained normal, despite the war inside your head. “Yeah? What’d you guys play at the arcade?”

This set him off on another tangent, explaining the hour long foosball game they played that ended in him paying for another round of beers. Harin had felt bad, insisted that she was kidding and let them split it, but he wanted to. And then let her pick out her favorite game at the arcade to play next. (It was pinball. You hated pinball.)

“She went to that convention I told you about recently,” he continued as you set the half-eaten tin on the coffee table, suddenly queasy from eating too fast. “And – oh, wait. She showed me this cosplay she did last year. Check it out.”

Wonwoo pulled out his phone and unlocked it, her Instagram profile already pulled up. He found the picture immediately – like muscle memory – tilting his phone towards you to show you the Animal Crossing cosplay she made. Her smile was so bright, cute, in the photo, pink cheeks and yellow eyeshadow on her eyes.

You cleared your throat. “Oh, that’s –”

“Cool, right?”

“Yeah, cool.”

He grinned big, placing his phone right side up on his thigh. Something he never did while at your apartment.

“She understood every reference I made. You know how sometimes I make those references to Portal and you kinda stare at me like I have three heads?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that –”

“She completely got all of them. It was … seriously funny.” He was laughing again, the kind he only did when he was drunk or when you reminded him of the time in junior year of undergrad when you puked in a punch bowl at a frat party. It was sacred and intimate, and right now, it was because of … Harin.

He met your eyes with a soft, authentic smile. “The date was fun. It was … easy.”

You felt your eye twitch.

Easy.

One word had never caused so much devastation to run through your entire body, the type you couldn’t will away with the armor you built for years. To compare yourself to another woman was cheap and not like you whatsoever. You would never think that way because you would never pit women against each other. It was wrong. Distasteful.

But Harin was easy. And you, certainly, had never been that.

As he continued – and you were keenly aware that this was probably the longest he spoke in all the years you knew him – you thought back to his previous girlfriends. The ones from college, the girl he dated three years ago … All those women he’d been attracted to were nothing like him. Opposites attract, after all. But Harin was the farthest from opposite. Your goal for this date had been symmetry, someone that aligned with Wonwoo, which meant this was a success. She changed something in him. 

You felt the soft drop in your stomach.

Oh, you thought, he might actually fall for her.

That was the reason why you started this whole thing. It shouldn’t be a shock, right?

Right?

“So …” You played with a loose thread on your skirt, asking the question you always did. The one where you got the same answer. “Would you see her again?”

You were used to his hesitation, the way he would ponder exactly how to say, No, in the nicest way possible. But he didn’t do that this time. Wonwoo’s lips tugged up again as he replied, “Yeah. Yes, I think I would.”

There wasn’t much excitement this time, but his tone was unquestionable. Certain.

Good, you told yourself, this is good.

The silence between you two felt heavy. A constant, wavering cloud of gray.

This was what you wanted.

That knife in your heart dug in deeper, twisting, and you felt the invisible gush of feelings pour out of you. So much that you didn’t know how to push them back inside.

Then why does it feel like this?

His phone buzzed, breaking the tension completely. You sat up a little, peering to see who was on his lock screen, but you already knew the answer. Wonwoo smiled shyly and opened up his texts with Harin. Like clockwork, she was asking if he’d like to go on a second date. He was giddy; you could tell because he was making that face that he only made around you. But he didn’t want to show it, because he was getting to his feet and muttering, “Let me answer this and then we can watch a movie.”

You were completely frozen, hands laced on your lap as you grappled with reality. Every other date didn’t sting like this, because he didn’t like them. Not like this. Those bad dates kept him as yours, but this one might not. And – god, it was wrong of you to ever think he could stay yours because he was his own person and your best friend, but this hurt and your brain felt like it was imploding.

“Hey.”

You turned, seeing Wonwoo lingering by the doorway of the living room. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Thanks for setting this up,” he said. “I mean it this time.”

You forced a smile. “Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

As he disappeared into the bathroom, you licked your lips and told yourself that everything was going to plan, that was a good thing. You repeated it like a mantra, hoping it would stick. And you believed it … for about ten minutes.

Wonwoo, rather unconsciously, tortured you with information on every date he had with Harin. If he couldn’t come over to talk, he simply texted you. And you feigned interest because – maybe, just maybe – you were terrified that he was going to forget about you. He was just so excited about her, and you could tell. This was your doing and all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy. But now he was happy and it wasn’t just with you anymore. What if, sooner or later, it wasn’t with you at all?

You had bitten your nails down to nubs because of it.

He had gone on more dates with Harin, almost every week for the entire month of April. Spring was quite literally in full bloom. He had even taken her to see the cherry blossoms – something you both typically did together. (But it was fine. It had to be.) He wasn’t coming over as often anymore and the takeout you got on Thursdays and Fridays started to taste a lot worse when you were alone. You thought you had gotten used to being alone all these years, but not like this. Not when the thoughts got too loud and you missed him so much that you debated on downloading a dating app. But then you thought back to that horror movie and decided you didn’t want to go on a date with a possible serial killer.

The bed you had made for yourself was cold and not in the good way. The kind that reminded you how lonely the armor around your heart had become. How yearning felt worse when your best friend wasn’t by your side.

You tried to busy yourself with work like always, but not even the late night phone calls from your worried boss were a good enough distraction. (Although, they did keep you up on the customer service hotline with whatever billboard company he decided not to do business with anymore.) For a second, you considered calling up your ex – the older one, Sean – even just for a one night stand. But Sean had never been one for casual. And you couldn’t remember the last time you were intimate with someone.

The fear struck you like lightning. You stirred in bed, flipping onto your back to stare at the ceiling. After attempting to go to sleep early, it was clear that your racing thoughts were going to keep you up, making dread pulse in your chest.

What if no one ever wanted you again? Not even just intimately, but physically. Your presence.

Worse – what if Wonwoo didn’t want you anymore?

The sound of the oscillating fan at your bedside drowned out, leaving you with the echo of the words that just came into your subconscious. Somehow, the world got so quiet, and you were clutching at the stretched out collar of your pajama shirt, breathing suddenly becoming difficult. What the fuck – this couldn’t be anxiety, could it? No way, you hadn’t felt that in year. You were being dramatic, ridiculous, and –

Your phone vibrated and you had never swung so fast to grab it.

Wonwoo: Sorry for the late text but I miss you Wonwoo: It’s starting to get warm at night and my fan here sucks compared to yours Wonwoo: Do you have plans Saturday night? Maybe we could get some drinks at the dive we like

And suddenly, breathing didn’t feel so hard to do. You accepted, of course, because the opportunity to see him after so long was more important than anything else in the world right now. He had never been one to initiate plans, so the fact that he was – let alone, asking to meet you at a bar – was progress. He missed you. Of course, he did. You were best friends, but it was clear that the distance truly made the heart grow fonder. 

You prepared what you were going to say, how casual your tone was going to be, and the exact beer you planned to order – Stella Artois, of course – but your entire plan seemed to be interrupted when you turned your head to the side that Saturday night. The bar was getting more full, and you could see from the space you cleared out for him at the bar top that Wonwoo wasn’t alone. His hand was on a woman’s back as he ushered her forward and – oh my god, he brought Harin.

Your body froze mid sip as the cold bottle of Stella was at your lips. Wonwoo pushed his wonky glasses up on his nose and waved to you, helping Harin get through the growing crowd, and it took everything in you to force that smile. Once they were in front of you, your eyes raked down and took in the pretty sundress she was wearing: purple flowers scattered in a pattern over white polyester. She looked beautiful and still so casual with her hair undone like this. Your hand smoothed over the off-shoulder top you picked up on the Express clearance rack and your jeans that were a trusted pair since college, suddenly self conscious. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way, but then you noticed how she was the perfect height next to him and now you were picturing yourself as a fucking Amazon woman next to her and –

You needed to stop this, but you were already upset, eyes getting the tiniest bit pink as you went in to hug Harin. She slipped past you after to order her drink of choice – a rum and Coke – at the bar, and that was when you felt Wonwoo pull you into his broad chest, and you realized just how well you fit here, his nose pressed against your hairline. Your fingers notched into the short sleeve t-shirt he was wearing, and then he muttered, “Missed you,” making you tug on that cotton a little more than a friend should.

“You too,” you replied, voice muffled by his shirt. “You’ve been busy though.”

He laughed under his breath before whispering in your ear. “She wanted to come see you after all these years. This okay?”

“Of course,” you replied, but there was no vigor behind it.

He hummed as you leaned back from him, and he absentmindedly lifted your hand to notice how badly you’d bitten down your nails. His brow furrowed, but you pulled away before he could comment. 

Taking out his wallet, he handed Harin his credit card so she could get them both drinks. “You should’ve waited for me,” he said, nodding towards the Stella in your hands. “I wanted to buy your first drink.”

“I’m very capable of paying for my own beer, Wonwoo,” you remarked, and then realized how bitter you sounded, how the frustration that you pummeled down for weeks came up to the surface so easily. Your expression softened as you added, “You can pay for my second.”

He smiled, all goofy and kind. “Sounds good.” Noticing the strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, he reached up to push it behind your ear at the same time Harin was turning around with the drinks. Wonwoo’s hand instantly retracted, but came back out to take his card that she handed to him.

“Oh,” she beamed while handing Wonwoo his Stella, “you guys like the same beer.”

Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to you with his chin. “She turned me on to it. I was into Guinness for a bit.”

Harin stuck out her tongue in disgust and you suggested to move over to a high top table, desperate to let this conversation die before it could even begin. You didn’t want Harin thinking that you were one of those weird girl best friends, that you and Wonwoo had secretly hooked up on the side – even though that … definitely did happen in college. Nevertheless, you didn’t want her to have any assumptions of you. This night had already gone off the rails and you were desperate to get it back on track.

So you asked how they were doing, which was another mistake on your part because then Harin glanced at him and he was doing that goofy smile all over again. But not at you. Especially  not now. She sipped at her drink through a tiny straw, nudged him with her elbow, before mumbling, “C’mon, you tell her. Don’t be so nervous, Nunu.” 

Nunu? 

You blinked.

When the hell did he start liking that nickname?

Without meeting your eyes, his hand found Harin’s wrist on the tabletop as he muttered, “I asked her to be my girlfriend last week.”

“Oh,” you blurted, and his gaze instantly lifted to yours. Your lips sealed for a moment, and then you added, “I meant … oh! That’s great news. I just never …” You should stop yourself, because Wonwoo’s eyes looked like he was pleading with you to be silent and Harin was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in this sea of drunk people. “You’ve always taken so long to be exclusive. I never expected it. But I … I’m happy for you two.”

Harin’s face shifted into a huge grin, her eyes closing and her laughter hard to control. Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief that he thought no one noticed, but you did. You took a long swig of your beer as Harin looked to Wonwoo to exclaim, “And you were nervous to tell her! I told you that it wasn’t a big deal.”

That made you both pause. Your eyes flickered to his, the beer bottle frozen to his lips, and you set your own down on the table. Your hands were sweating as much as the cold glass. “You were nervous to tell me?”

He took a sip and shrugged. “Well, I –”

“I think he just …” Harin’s voice trailed off as she looked at him, her own hand coming up to lock around his wrist now. “He values your opinion more than anyone else’s. I’ve noticed it when he talks about you. Besides his parents, I took you as one of the most important people in his life.” 

She was speaking in his direction, but once she finished, her head turned to you and she gave you the kind of smile that made you utterly hate yourself. Not out of jealousy, but because she was kind and perfectly perfect for him. Unchallenging and effortless. 

For a moment, you were stunned, not sure what to say. But then you were setting down your beer again and suddenly replying, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

You spun on your heel, shoving yourself through the crowd of people that had assimilated around the bar, before finally propelling inside the two-stall bathroom. Walking up to the sink, you clutched the edge and let yourself breathe for a minute, inhaling the heavy scent of Febreze. You debated on splashing your face with cold water before you remembered that you decided to not wear waterproof mascara tonight. 

He values your opinion more than anyone else’s.

Bile started to rise in your throat, making you cough and finally turn on the sink to cup water into your mouth. Your eyes got pink again, but you held back the tears that were damn near burning to be let out. If you cried now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and you’d be damned if you let yourself cry over this. Over something so … nonsensical. What were you even upset about anyway?

The soft sounds of Maroon 5 only got louder when the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of Harin’s flushed cheeks. She smiled at you and you immediately sucked in whatever boogers were trying to leak out, grabbing a paper towel to dry your hands. “I didn’t get to tell you yet,” she said, walking forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into her orbit, “but you look even better since college. I’m in love with this top.”

And to think you were second-guessing it an hour ago. 

She leaned back to grin back up at you, and looking at her now … you could see how she was able to charm just about anyone. People said that about you sometimes, but Harin was different. Something about her aura made you instantly want to let your guard down, feel more at ease, realize how silly you’d been feeling about all of this. 

Until you remembered she was now your best friend’s girlfriend and something about that deeply unsettled you.

“Thanks,” you smiled as she detached herself from you. “I really like your dress too.”

“My mom got it for me! Target find, I think.” She shrugged, quickly washing her hands and looking over her shoulder at you. “I stalked you on LinkedIn a little bit. Not sure if you got the notification. You’re a Marketing Director now? That’s so cool!”

“It’s fun sometimes,” you waved off, unsure how to take compliments, even at this age. “You must be doing something cool now.”

She shook her head and dried off her hands. “Nah, I’ve been at the same software developer position for years. But I want to get into game development at some point.”

God, you thought, I really did find him his match.

You nodded, unsure what to say next, but then she was approaching you and reaching out to squeeze one of your hands. She looked up at you like you were important, like you hung the stars one by one. “I just wanted to thank you privately,” she whispered, “for introducing me to Wonwoo. I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings this fast or got along with anyone so well, and I just … thank you. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

Your heart broke, and you needed to mend it in an instant. But this stung more than you could’ve prepared and it wasn’t fair that you were hurt when this was your doing. The bed you made. The music you had to face. Etcetera, etcetera. 

“It was no biggie,” you muttered, wondering how you could make a break for it. Even if that meant going into one of the stalls that had more litter on the floor than a dumpster.

“It is a biggie. It just feels like …” She trailed off, looking off to the side as she mulled over her next words. “You know how I knew it was a big deal when he asked to be exclusive? He wanted to watch a movie – In the Mood for Love – and I learned only later that was one of his favorites. Did you know that?”

Of course, you did. It was only a couple months ago that you two watched it together and he never added anything to his Letterboxd Top 4 so fast. 

But you shook your head, eager to get this over with. Maybe you could pretend to be nauseous and go home early.

“It was during a really pivotal scene that he insisted I pay attention to,” she continued, “but then … I felt his hand in mine. And it was like … the way you can feel someone looking at you. Then, he asked me, and something about it felt so right. The moment, his hand … everything. Which I know sounds super corny, but I just … I know this is good for me and I have you to thank. So again – thank you.”

You took the opportunity to carefully slip your hand out of hers. “You’re … you’re welcome,” you forced the words out. “I’m really glad it’s working out and you’re good for him too. This is … the best news.”

You sent her one last quick smile before your shoulder brushed hers. “If you’ll excuse me. My beer must be getting warm,” you added with a chuckle.

In that moment, as your palm pushed against the door and you felt the humidity of the packed bar all over again, seeing your best friend wave and keep watch over the high top table … you realized that getting over him might not have been what you wanted in the first place.

VI.

I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. I don’t wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. I’ve been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night. And now I see daylight. –TAYLOR SWIFT

October 31, 2023

It was a particularly warm Halloween. A slight breeze had settled over the brightly lit city, but humidity lingered from the constant on-and-off rain all day. The weather just made the local dive that much hotter: bodies packed like sardines in a small bar that still smelled like cigarettes with a tinge of men’s deodorant. You and Wonwoo had moved downtown a few months ago and were lucky enough to find this place so close to your building. And the best part was – no cover charge.

Not that they could with how bad it smelled in here, but beggars couldn’t be choosers sometimes.

You were wearing a cheap angel halo from Dollar Tree that was far too tight on your head with a pair of light wash jeans and a top that fell off one shoulder a bit too far, enough to make a few men turn their heads and Wonwoo stand close. He had no costume – of course – but maybe he had the right idea when it felt like this headband was compressing your actual skull. However, when a pirate woman that was far too inebriated from multiple Dirty Shirleys asked what his costume was, he replied, “Game developer,” with a cheeky smile. 

After twenty minutes, you were finally greeted with the sight of your friends from your new job pushing through the crowd to get to your free corner of the bar. You handed Wonwoo your beer without thinking – and he had to make a mental note which one was yours since you drank the same beer – as you tugged Jennifer into a hug. She was flagged by your other coworkers, Felix and Hunter, who he only recognized because he heard those names come from your mouth more often than not these days.

He introduced himself when you brought them over, but still kept to himself, practically sinking into the corner of the dark bar as you rambled on about something ridiculous happening with your new boss, who seemed like an anxiety-ridden mess. But you already knew that. You were distracted, yet you could still feel Wonwoo’s awkward presence near you. He had always been quiet, since the day you sat next to him in that History of Cinema class, but something was different tonight. Although he didn’t say it out loud, you knew he was still thinking about the girl he broke up with so he could move around the same time as you. He always said that she was nothing more than casual and the career opportunity he got here meant so much more, but … his demeanor tonight spoke to more than that.

Sometimes you wondered if Wonwoo just wanted to belong to somebody.

You wanted to tell him that he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him, but something about that felt too intimate.

Leaving the bar with a fresh buzz, your arm hooked around his and you allowed him to take the lead for once. Wonwoo might’ve been a tiny bit tipsy, but his broad shoulders and height made it easier for him gain the upper hand when your footsteps got a little too fast. You had one too many tequila shots more than him and it was enough to make you feel tingly, to make you a little overconfident when you tried to walk without his help. It almost ended with you face-first on the sidewalk.

Wonwoo grabbed your hand as you tripped over the tip of your shoe, and then simply … never let go. His palm was so warm in yours, albeit a bit sweaty, but you assumed that was from the fluctuating weather. And totally not because of anything else, even as he avoided eye contact.

He kept you close, bringing you into his side when someone else walked past. Your hand was in his sweaty one for a solid three blocks until you reached the door to your building. Feet slowing, his hand slipped out of yours, and it was supposed to look casual but when you turned to him, he was clumsily punching said hand into his jean pocket and trying to hide his pink cheeks.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, feeling the lip gloss you put on earlier crust at the corners of your mouth. It felt like your brain was swimming, drowning in whatever cataclysm of feelings you were trying to flush, but it was impossible. Wonwoo was impossible.

“You can stay over if you need to,” you offered. “I don’t want you walking back to your place all alone.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “It won’t be that bad. I might just have my roommate pick me up. I think Mingyu’s hanging out with someone just a few blocks away.”

He was staring at your hand, and you noticed, enough for the heat of your gaze to make his chin finally lift like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

Nodding, you replied, “Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

His smile was effortless, so incredibly easy. “I know you hate spending Halloween alone.”

You chuckled, spinning slightly to hide your grin and purposefully whacking his shoulder with your purse. “It’s too spooky,” you argued, turning back to him and realizing now that his body was suddenly within reach. Your lips pursed and you met his dark eyes, the tequila in your system suddenly making your guard slip, as if it was made by mere paper and not bricks. 

“Sometimes I think you’re the only person who actually knows me.”

His body went still, taking in your response, and then he asked quietly, “Is that … okay with you?”

Words failed you, dying on your tongue like ash, but you still allowed gravity to pull you in his direction. You were closer now – close enough that your chests brushed, feeling his warm breath on your face. It made a cold sweat appear on your hairline that mingled with the vaguely cool air around you, a reminder of the bitter winter ahead. But at that moment, it was just you and him, and the fallen leaves collecting in puddles around you, and the humidity that made your hair frizz a little. The alcohol running through you had your cheeks flushed and when your head tilted down, you realized your pinky was hooking with his. 

You never wanted anything more than this: his warmth, his presence, Wonwoo. The only person that you trusted with your life. Your closest friend. You wanted him everywhere and nowhere. Wanting him was a blessing, but it was also too much, suffocating you from the inside out.

Your gaze lifted to his again, and your lips parted to say something that might ruin everything: “I think … I think I’d be okay with –”

But then, you hiccuped. And again, and again. Enough that you had to hold your breath for a couple seconds to calm down. Your finger was still looped around his and you didn’t look down to make sure it was real, but you felt his thumb running over your knuckles in a way that screamed want. Desire. 

The tingles from alcohol started to fade, remnants of tequila ebbing away, and you reframed instantly. Your pinky carefully slipped out of his and you chuckled, “Obviously. You’re my best friend. I mean – that’s kind of the point, right?”

Wonwoo hesitated, brow quirking up for a less than a second. “That’s … that’s good.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped back from you. Your fingers twitched, already missing his warmth.

“I should get going.” He crooked his thumb over his shoulder, feigning a smile. “See you next Thursday for movie night.”

May 7, 2026

He hadn’t been coming to movie nights.

Out of all things, Wonwoo typically didn’t skip a movie night. Not even when he had a date. Hell, he was frequently trying to watch one with you after the dates you put him on. But once turned into twice, and then it was May and the peonies were sprouting in the soil by your apartment and Thursday had become their date nights. 

It’s the best day for both of us, he told you in text once. I don’t usually work past 5 and her meetings end around 4:30. It just worked out that way. Which you couldn’t blame him, because Harin was his girlfriend and making time with her mattered. But there was this thing called a weekend – that they were using for dates too (you’d know; you saw the cute photos Harin posted on her Instagram story) – but of course, Thursdays were date night too. Convenient for them. Lonely for you.

You typically embraced loneliness like an old friend. It was never cold – actually, it was rather comfortable – but you regarded it with indifference. You had been alone for so long that you were used to it. It didn’t matter, as long as you had your friend. But your friend was preoccupied with someone else now – someone you set him up with. And this was supposed to make you feel good, but for the first time, you felt yourself grimacing when the shroud of loneliness appeared at your bedside and you flipped over, curling a blanket around yourself despite the heat. 

So you called him.

You shouldn’t have. You should’ve let the feelings fester and eventually, they would pass. They always did. But it was another Thursday night alone and the mindless arguing from the reality show on your TV was doing little to silence your loud thoughts. Your glass of homemade sweet tea was left abandoned on the coffee table, water dripping down the sides, as warm air filtered from the open window. Summer was near and yet the spot next to you on the couch felt cold as ice, like someone had deserted it for longer than normal.

You flipped your phone over before you could stop yourself, scrolling down to his name. It was late and he was probably just getting into his apartment after seeing Harin, but you didn’t care. You didn’t really care about anything anymore, truthfully. The line only rang for two seconds before you heard a click and he was saying your name. So faint, like a prayer.

For a moment, you were sure you heard Harin’s muffled laughter leave the speaker.

“Are you just never going to come to movie night again?”

Wonwoo paused, and then said, “Hello to you too.”

“It’s late and I have to go to bed soon because I have a 9 AM meeting tomorrow. I don’t exactly have time for ‘hellos.’” It was a lie, and you both knew it. You’d been staying up way longer than you should’ve most nights and going to work exhausted. It could probably be heard in your voice.

He exhaled heavily, and you could almost hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for skipping. It’s just … you know why. But I feel terrible. You have to know that too. You know I wouldn’t skip plans with you if there wasn’t a legitimate reason.”

You picked at the corner of the pimple patch on your jaw, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been skipping a lot of things recently.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

There was an indistinct woman’s voice on the other end, and then a door closed. He was alone now.

“Wonwoo,” you chastised, “you don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

“Is this still about movie night? I’m not a mind reader.”

You took a moment, swallowing down your pride and sitting up. If you didn’t say it, you feared you never would. The festering wouldn’t cease until you let the word vomit out.

“I feel like you’ve just forgotten me since you started dating,” you said, and then clarified, “since Harin.”

Silence echoed. The minute began to draw out, enough for you to ask, “You there?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “just thinking.”

“About what?”

Wonwoo clicked his tongue then. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

Your head jerked back, the grip on your phone tightening. “It is. I’m happy for you. Don’t I sound happy?”

The sound of his lips opening came muffled through the speaker, but you kept going on.

“I just –” You let your head fall into one hand as you rubbed at your temples. “I’m frustrated. I know people grow apart as they get older, but … I don’t see you anymore and it’s like you don’t give a fuck.”

“Now you’re putting words into my mouth.”

“So? Who cares?”

“Well, it seems like you do.” His words made your heart sink into your stomach, like you’d been caught in the biggest lie of your life. Maybe you had. “Why do you care so much?”

You blinked. “I …” Every nerve in your body died. Even if you wanted to speak, you couldn’t. There was nothing to say anyway. How could you possibly explain the truth when you had buried it in the deepest cavern imaginable for so long? 

Finally, your mouth began moving for you: “I just think you’ve forgotten about your friends.”

Wonwoo sighed, frustration evident in his tone. “Listen,” he started, “You’re my longest friend. I know this is what you like to do. You like to fix people because it feels good –”

“It’s not just that, Wonwoo –”

“– But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” he added. “I do.”

Any response you had ready seemed to burn in your throat. It was like he took your whole vocabulary, leaving you mute and helpless as static buzzed from your line to his. Your mouth hung open slightly, and you prayed something would come out, but … nothing. You were nothing in a sea of nothingness and Wonwoo wasn’t yours anymore.

Eventually, you heard him exhale with a tinge of regret. “You there?”

You moved your phone away from your ear, staring down at his contact name. The text began to blur when you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself; this hurt but you would survive. You always did, and he’d come back to you and you’d accept him with open arms because this was you and Wonwoo after all. Every friendship – or whatever this was now – went through a rough patch.

But instead of replying, you immediately ended the call.

Wonwoo didn’t come back like you thought.

Silence stretched, thinner than a bed sheet. The distance was colder than you imagined, almost arctic, and you felt it settle deep in your bones, but it did nothing to cool you at night when the humid breeze blew through your open window. No communication was harder than it looked, but in your defense, you really hadn’t expected this. And now, you were too embarrassed to even text him, the fear of rejection still clawing at you just like in college. (Let’s be real: it never really went away anyway.)

You had never been broken up with in the twenty-something years you’d been alive. Typically, it was you who broke things off, and sure, you were sad afterwards, although nothing ever lingered because it was you who ended it in the first place. Maybe you were heartless; maybe no relationship really mattered like Wonwoo’s friendship – but no breakup really hurt. This, however, felt worse than you could ever imagine. Your entire world seemed like it was falling apart and you couldn’t even go to him. 

You missed him – more than you ever thought you could, more than that time he went away to Italy during summer break junior year – but you were getting by as much as you could. Jennifer took you out for drinks, and the sugary margaritas made your head swim for a solid night before you were right back to sulking in your chair at work. You got a promotion – one you had been gunning for for a year, one that you deserved. That felt good, and finally, your mood was turning around. Even your parents were going to visit for your birthday in September, something they hadn’t done in a few years. Your mother’s usual saying, “It’s always so busy around your birthday,” graduated to, “I think this year calls for celebration. The last year of  your twenties is a big one.” There was a possibility of them cancelling, but you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So many things to be excited over, and you were trying to focus on them, especially on those dreaded Thursday nights. Instead of popping a movie on your TV and watching it in silence like a lonely 50s housewife, you were taking matters into your own hands. Matters that involved a leak you tended to ignore every time it came back. You were blasting the loudest heavy metal music possible though your AirPods, the kind of stuff you hadn’t listened to since high school, as you tried fixing your bathroom faucet on your own. The sink was older than the apartment, it seemed, and would leak at the most inopportune times. You had been paying a technician to come fix it almost every year, but after the last time when he stared at your chest a little too long, you decided maybe it was time to get up off your ass and try.

In a loose pair of sweatpants and a tank top that was doing nothing to hide your genetically lopsided boobs, you hunched forward and inspected the pipe below the basin. You watched a tutorial online, then watched it again, and settled that this should be easy enough. Gone were the days of you paying a pervy technician far too much money to stop a leak that kept happening. You were a new woman now: independent, self-sufficient, definitely not lonely.

You followed the instructions to a T, but something was just wrong. Maybe it was the day or some form of karma that just wouldn’t get off your back – you would never know. Using all the strength in your body, you tried turning the shut-off valves clockwise, but it was hardly budging. It was like there was something preventing them from moving and condensation was already creating a puddle on your tiled floor. You even tried turning the water on and all the way off to see if something was just clogged, and yet … nothing. Were you really that weak that you could figure out how to fix a fucking sink?

There had to be a solution you didn’t know about. Connecting the drain to the stopper was a washer where the leak was dripping from. You picked up your wrench, the tip of your tongue meeting the corner of your lips, like you did when you really concentrated. The music blaring in your ears was reaching a peak, the bridge so loud that your could feel your neurons kissing – or whatever it was that neurons did. Maybe if you yank the wrench this way around the washer that would stop the leak –

Water erupted from the pipe, spraying all over your face to the point you felt like you were being fucking waterboarded. You reached out with fumbling, desperate hands, trying to tighten the washer again with your eyes closed, realizing you’d been stupid enough to leave one handle turned. After a couple more seconds of what you could only describe as a horrific form of torture, the washer went taut and the water stopped, albeit still leaking, but at least it wasn’t blasting into your nose. 

You slumped back against the wall, coughing up the water that had entered your nose, before resting your head back against the peeling wallpaper. Your body was soaked, the thin cotton of your tank top completely ruined and your sweatpants looking like you pissed yourself, and – oh, now you were crying.

Tears welled up before you could stop them, rolling down your cheeks and clogging up your throat. The current song in your ears faded, replaced with an equally louder one that you simply had to turn off at this point. You couldn’t prevent the sobs from absolutely wracking through your body, like it was relieving tension from your system. But still, something about it almost felt violent: your face was turning red and you could already feel a headache coming on as tears practically stung at your eyes. You looked at the sink like it killed someone in your family and it was in that moment that everything became clear. Well, somewhat – warm, wet globs were still falling and it almost hurt to breathe.

You couldn’t believe you’d met your match and it was a sink. 

The realization hit you and it felt like you were wearing an invisible dunce cap. You couldn’t fix everything. You could try and do everything in your power, but there was always going to be something that couldn’t be fixed on your own. And it wouldn’t feel good – actually, it made you feel like utter shit – but you had to get over it. You couldn’t do it all and not everything – not even a faucet – could be fixed.

As your eyes followed the water trickling from the pipe, you knew then that you’d been treating Wonwoo like this, like a sink. A project instead of a choice. Perhaps it should’ve been clear when you told him to go into his dates like a job interview, or when he told you that his dates weren’t a performance review. There were a multitude of times when you should’ve realized, but you didn’t,and now you were paying the consequences with this leak in your bathroom and no Wonwoo by your side.

You got to your feet and padded to your room for a fresh set of clothes. It wouldn’t help sitting there and sulking at the stupid leak you couldn’t fix. 

On the rare occasion that your absent-minded mother called you to check in, she’d ask you the same things – “Are you still working at that company? How’s Wonwoo? Did you get a cat yet?” – but one always stuck with you, to the point her voice would echo in your head before you went to sleep. Sometimes she’d prod about why you weren’t dating anyone, why you hadn’t experienced love yet when you were pushing thirty. And it stumped you, because surely, you should’ve experienced love at least once. But you never wanted to think too deeply about it out of fear, and then came up with a quip like, “I’m waiting for a love like I’ve seen in the movies. Find me my own Harry Burns from When Harry Met Sally, then we’ll talk, Ma.”

It was all farce though.

And as you sat down on the edge of your bed, clean clothes abandoned in a neatly folded pile at your hip, you knew the reason why now. You’d always known, deep inside yourself, but you pushed it down for so long that these feelings had no choice but to come up when a leaky faucet made you the most defenseless. Like your armor of sturdy bricks had finally crumbled from a mere gust of wind.

You were in love with Jeon Wonwoo.

Maybe you always had been.

VII.

Orpheus: How will you remember? Eurydice: That I love you? Orpheus: Yes. Eurydice: That’s easy. I can’t help it. –SARAH RUHL

You attempted to text him for an entire week, an abundance of words spilling from your subconscious, the same ones you buried since the day you shook his hand while saying, “Just friends?” That one sentence seemed to haunt you for life, repeating over and over in your head when not even audio porn could dull the ache in your chest. You poured your heart out into your phone all week: ranging from essays you drafted in the Notes app to actually opening up your texts with him and letting the bright light blur into your retinas until sleep finally took over.

Nothing was right though.

Maybe it was all you. The ideal words just weren’t coming and it was all too embarrassing. You weren’t 28 anymore; it felt like you were 11 logging onto AIM with trembling fingers before messaging the boy you liked. The same boy that you shared Social Studies with, that you didn’t give a Valentine’s Day Fun Dip to because you thought that would make him like you – but I digress. You were shriveling into your past shelf and you didn’t know how to make it all stop.

The next blow hit before you were able to expect it.

While you’re on your lunch break eating the saddest salad known to man, you open up Instagram and see a story update from Harin. Instinctively, you know you shouldn’t. It could be nothing and it would still make you upset. The last thing you needed was to drench this limp salad with your tears. Your finger hovered over her icon, and you almost stopped yourself but the temptation was too much.

A video started playing, making your hands fumble as you struggled to turn the audio down and grab your AirPods at the same time. Once they were in, you replayed the first video: she was showing off a new apartment with a big smile. She was so beautiful and graceful as she moved around the new place, presenting the big kitchen and best indoor heating system for the winter. (You wondered how she’d fair with your tiny space heater in the kitchen, and you chuckled to yourself.) She opened the door to the bedroom, rambling on about the size and how it was made for two people.

You held your finger down to pause. Made for two. As in … a couple. Moving in together.

Lifting the pad of your finger, her voice came though your headphones automatically: “This move all came up pretty fast,” she sighed, plopping down on the clean carpet. “But it’s a new opportunity and I’m so excited to start this new journey, as corny as it sounds. I’ve been a little bit of a cornball recently. If you know, you know. Trying to romanticize my life and all that.” She slid down to lay on the carpet then. “Here’s to new beginnings!”

It was wrong to jump to conclusions. You knew that; you preached it. But when your heart was beating a little too fast like this, it was hard to not make your imagination run wild. Because obviously, Wonwoo was moving in with her. After only a few months of dating. You knew it shouldn’t come as much as a shock because she was his girlfriend after all, but also you thought maybe – just maybe – this was something he could’ve told you. Even when you both weren’t speaking.

You stood from your desk, smiling politely to each coworker you passed until you got to the bathroom. It was only when you locked yourself in a stall that you felt the devastation hit you. Like an avalanche. Your palms laid flat on both sides of the stall as you stared at your feet, waiting for something to change. But it was just you: calm on the surface with your feelings eating you up inside, swallowing you whole until you were nothing left.

If you didn’t confess, then you’d become a shell. A walking set of bones and muscles. But what if he completely cut you off? What if he was disgusted, absolutely horrified that someone who was supposed to be his friend had been hiding their feelings for ten years? You couldn’t blame him, but you didn’t want to imagine losing him. Not yet.

Friendship without honesty was still a loss. It was time for both of you to be honest with each other.

After a debilitating train ride, you almost reconsidered your plan. But as you stepped onto the platform for the stop closest to Wonwoo’s apartment, looking around at the crowd of people swarming around you, the only way out was in. You couldn’t postpone this to another day; not when you’d been repeating this cycle since college. So you pushed through – past the tired women in blazers that were looking forward to their Friday night glass of wine, past the men on the phone with their partners and assuring them they’d pick up whatever they wanted for dinner – until you got to the stairs and climbed up. You were out of breath by the time you got to the top, lungs burning, and a drizzle was starting to fall, but you sprinted forward into the crowd. Your dying courage would lead you to where you needed to go.

Once you were standing outside his building – newly refurbished a few years ago with a huge garden planted in the front – you began to dig in your work tote for your keys, which still had his fob attached to it. You didn’t use it very often since he was almost always at your place, but it was instances like this that you were grateful to still have it in your possession. Swiping it at the door, you tugged at the handle and stepped inside, pulling off your wet hood as your shoes squeaked all the way to elevator.

Sometimes you wished you had the strength to just move into a nicer building like Wonwoo’s. It wasn’t like you didn’t have the money, but you had just gotten … accustomed to your old place. The heating system was shit and the lack of proper AC sucked in the summer, however … there were a sense peace there that you never experienced anywhere else. That was where you built a home and memories. With Wonwoo.

As the doors opened and you stepped inside, it started to settle in what you were doing. Your heart rate kicked up like a drum, and your nails were pinching tiny crescents in your palms. This was really happening. Why the fuck were you doing this again? Could you really not get through another few years of pushing down these feelings and postpone this all over again? You wanted to, desperately, and you were half tempted to turn around. But your feet had a mind of their own, walking out of the elevator that stopped on the third floor, halting at his door and rapping your fist against it.

You still had time to back out. He might still be on the way home from work. Maybe it was just Mingyu there right now, and he’d keep your secret if you left. If you spun on your heel and already started for the elevator, he wouldn't be able to see you –

The door opened, and there was Wonwoo, blinking at you in surprise. He was running a hand through his combed wet hair, fresh from a shower, with a black t-shirt that was clinging to his slightly damp body and – oh. No matter how old you got, a pair of grey sweatpants would always get to you, especially on him. 

Meeting his eyes again, you asked, “Are you busy? Can I come in?”

His lips pursed for a moment, and as much as you knew he wanted to be mad at you, his face softened. “Yeah,” he nodded, holding the door more open, “of course.”

You stepped through the threshold, noticing that his living room was as clean as it would get, something he had gotten sick of you chastising him for so you fought to always keep your mouth shut. Bills and junk mail were scattered on the coffee table, but you noticed – right near the TV – a candle was lit, almost burnt to the bottom. It was the candle you gave him for Christmas last year. The one he said reminded him of you.

Placing your work tote near the door, you didn’t bother sitting down, didn’t even take off your rain jacket. It was just you and him, standing in his living room that was lit with just one candle and an artsy lamp that his roommate had bought. You didn’t hear any rustling anywhere else; Mingyu must not be home.

A smart person – someone wanting forgiveness – would say something simple, like hello. But you didn’t, because clearly this was the stupidest decision of your life.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You blurted, making his brow furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

You gawked at him, and then replied, “Don’t play stupid, Wonwoo.”

He was blinking again, confusion wracking his brain. “I wish I was. I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw Harin’s Instagram story.” You paused, suddenly so aware about how childish you sounded. Getting upset over something as silly as Instagram. Your mouth went dry, and when you met his eyes again, you realized he was waiting for you to say more. “About the new apartment.”

“Oh,” he nodded, then thought for a moment. “Wait, she got the apartment?”

Your lips opened for a moment, processing his words. Something was off; were you both talking about the same thing right now? Why would he not know if his girlfriend got the apartment, presumably for the both of them?

“Are you intentionally acting dumb?” You asked, a little more irritable than you should be. He tilted his head and your hands balled into fists, standing up straighter. “Because if you keep doing this, I’m going to start crying again and I’m already so high strung and I haven’t slept and I’m confused –”

Wonwoo stepped closer then, his face losing every hint of anger towards you. He wasn’t really angry; he could never be that angry at you. His large hand circled around your arm, and you could feel the caress of his thumb running up and down even though the thin layer of your rain jacket. “Hey, take a breath,” he insisted in a soft voice. “Everything is okay.”

You inhaled sharply, and then let it out. Your gaze was practically glued to his as you felt every wall that was ever created inside you crumble. Originally, you assumed there was just one, tall as the eye could see, made of bricks. But there were actually several walls, and when your eyes connected with his, you could practically feel them collapsing in your stomach, one after the other.

“It’s not though,” you finally said. “And it pisses me off that you’re still so calm about this.”

His hand slowly left your arm. “About what?”

“About you and Harin moving in together!”

Wonwoo went silent, brows drawn together, and then he muttered, “Oh, that’s what this is about?”

“What else would it be about?!”

“Harin and I aren’t moving in together.”

You blanked. “Excuse me.”

“We actually aren’t …” He looked off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. Your brow shot up to your hairline. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh, I …” You shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been in my head for days. I shouldn’t have assumed –”

He mimicked your movements, and now you were both shaking your heads at each other like bobble heads in a toy shop. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just –” He exhaled heavily, and now it was your turn to grab his arm. You watched his body physically relax under the heat of your palm, his eyes fluttering down to burn into yours. “I broke up with her two weeks ago. She wanted to me to partially move in with her to see if our lives were compatible. We’d only been together a little under two months and I wasn’t ready. Obviously,” he added, gesturing to the state of his shared apartment.

You squeezed his forearm, and maybe you were just imagining it, but you swore you could feel his pulse quicken.

“I don’t think I would ever be ready. Because I’ve never …” He paused, and if he didn’t continue, you were sure that your courage would vanish. “I’ve never gotten over you.”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Your voice so small when you replied, “What? Ever since –”

“Sophomore year.” 

Your grip slipped from his arm. “But I thought you … you had never met anyone worth the effort?”

Wonwoo leveled a look at you, like he’d been completely obvious all along. “You have never been just anyone. I thought you knew that.”

You scoffed, acting so nonchalant as if you both weren’t confessing to every feeling you ever had for each other. “Of course, I didn’t know. I’ve been setting you up on dates because I thought if I fixed your love life …” You feigned a laugh as your hand came up to your mouth. “Maybe it wouldn’t blindside me. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much when you really fell in love with someone. And of course, I was very wrong about that one.” Swallowing hard, your fingers were now lacing with his, placing your heart in his careful hands. “You deserve someone great, Wonwoo. Someone who doesn’t push her friend away because she’s in love with him.”

And just like that, they were out of your system. The words flowed off your tongue so easily too, like he was always supposed to know. Like you were meant to tell him all those years ago. 

His voice was so low that it almost sounded like a breath: “You’re in love with me?”

“You’ve never been just anyone either, Wonwoo,” you sighed.

He shook his head. “But I thought … I thought you said … you said we would ruin everything if we tried.”

“I was terrified. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship when it just started, and then years went on and … nothing ever went away. I thought about you all the time.”

Wonwoo took a moment, relishing in the feel of your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. He finally brought your laced fingers up, his nose brushing against your wrist as he breathed in your scent. You smelled like that perfume he loved, and paper, and rainwater – everything he loved about you and more. Because he loved you. Of course, he loved you, and you could see it in his eyes, and now you were wondering how you survived being this blind for so long.

“I thought I lost my chance years ago,” he murmured, his naturally long lashes sweeping against your skin. “I thought you truly wanted me with someone else.”

You realized then that your face had moved closer to his without knowing, wanting to be more in his orbit. You couldn’t remember the last time you both were this close. “I thought I did, but …” Your top teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “I don’t think that’s true anymore. And I’ve been sick to my fucking stomach because all I’ve wanted to do is be honest, but there was never a good moment or the right words.”

His chest was pressing against yours now and your fingers unlaced, only so he could hold your face in his warm palms. He shushed you, already seeing the tears prick at your eyes when you got too worked up, wiping them away with his thumbs. “Come on now. You’ve always known the right words to say,” he smiled, and you felt your mouth wobble at just how good he was. You had been an ass to him, you had hid these feelings for years, and yet … he always let you in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to be honest too. Every time I had a bad date, I thought it was proof that wanting you was useless. So I opened myself up, because I thought Harin might just be it. But she wasn’t you.”

His thumb traced your lip, making you release it from in between your teeth. “No one’s like you.”

You did your best not to cry again. All those years of blocking the tears were catching up to you. “I’m sorry for the way I went about this,” you muttered. “I should’ve been honest. I should’ve told you. But I guess you can still be a coward even at our age.”

“You’re not a coward,” he laughed. His finger swiped down the slope of your nose, as if he was committing every bit to memory. “I’m sorry for what I said on the phone. You were right – I did get caught up in the relationship, but I was trying to so I would forget about my feelings for you. I didn’t mean any of it. I like that you fix people.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Okay, maybe I don’t,” he confessed, and then his lips pulled into a smug grin, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. “Sometimes I like when you micromanage me though.”

The shock that this was all happening hit you, practically struck you like lightening. You stuttered out a series of incomprehensible words, until you finally asked, “Really?” All the confidence, bitterness, it seeped out of you when Wonwoo’s lips were this close to yours. “Well, I … maybe I could –”

“Finally let me kiss you?”

“Oh.” The tension in your body faded, and your hands were curling around his neck because this was happening and he was oh, so yours. “I mean … I guess that’s fine.”

He sneered, “Always needing the last word –”

Your mouth crashed onto his and it felt – god, nothing was more right than this. Your first kiss in college had been messy, almost clumsy, two young adults trying to figure out what the other liked, but Wonwoo had been a quick learner. And oh, did he remember. He didn’t forget the way you liked your bottom lip being sucked on, or how your breath hitched when he licked inside your mouth. His hand slipped from your cheeks, down your torso, before resting on your hips and pulling you even closer by your belt loops. Your fingers were tracing his shoulder blades through the fabric of his tee, an area you didn’t realize until now made him kiss you harder.

“Mingyu’s not home,” he breathed against your lips, shucking your rain jacket off your shoulders.

“I don’t care either way,” you quipped, more desperate than you realized, because you had already started shoving him to the right, where his room was located. Your mouths a hairsbreadth  apart, you asked, “Do you still know how to do that thing with your tongue?”

He pulled back with confusion when his spine hit the door of his bedroom, and then realization crossed his features. “Oh, that. I might be out of practice. You were the first person I ever went down on and –”

You raised a brow, causing him to smirk. “It would be an honor,” he replied.

Once his bedroom door closed, the goofiness cleared out of him and his hands were tight, all over you like this was your first time all over again. He had your back pressed against the door, your wrists in his firm grip and pinned over your head. You chased his lips as he went from kissing you soft to hard, making you huff because – Jesus, you really were starved for his attention. Tugging on your bottom lip, he released it and let his mouth trail near your jaw, breathing in that deadly perfume again. The same one that didn’t cease to make him hard.

And you felt it. Right against your leg, heat seeping into your slacks. Was he not wearing any underwear? 

“In case I didn’t say it already,” he muttered, his nose now connecting with yours, one palm sliding down to thumb at your nipple over your blouse. “I’m in love with you too.” His teeth skimmed your jaw again, then your collarbone, sucking hard on a particular spot and you felt like you could maybe cum untouched. This was pathetic, being reduced to nothing at your big age from just a hickey. 

“I’ve been dreaming of the day you’d let me in,” he hummed, squeezing your breast and feeling the weight in his palm, “when you’d let me touch you again.”

Your knee nudged in between your bodies, smoothing over the growing bulge in his sweatpants. “Wonwoo, please,” you whimpered, already feeling the warmth pool in your stomach, panties drenched and desperate for anything.

“Are you gonna let me micromanage you now?”

Your eyes snapped open, lips pursing as you processed his dirty talk. A snort escape you, and he lifted his head to look at you from underneath his messy, wet hair. His cheeks were tinged a pale pink. “Sorry,” you giggled.

“It sounded sexier in my head,” he muttered, releasing your wrists so he could use that hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want to … right? I think I have condoms somewhere. If not, I’ll steal one from Mingyu. I’ve seen his dick once. Accidentally. We’re kind of similar –”

You placed a hand over his mouth to get him to quiet. “This is the most you’ve talked about your roommate and I’d rather not think about him before you fuck me.” Letting your hand fall, you played with the hem of his t-shirt, fingers now splaying on his lower abdomen. His skin was hot to the touch, still a little damp from his shower. “Don’t worry about it – I’m still on the pill. Hormonal acne and all that.”

Now your cheeks were pink, embarrassment creeping through your entire body. But Wonwoo was quick, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip again, and you relaxed by pulling him closer with the ties of his sweatpants. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your mouth, “always have been.”

Before you could catch your breath, he was picking you up and laying you down on his bed. You landed on top of the remote, making the TV flicker to life, and the soft sounds of When Harry Met Sally filled the room. But Wonwoo was too distracted to notice, one knee between your legs and nudging them apart as his mouth descended upon yours again. He kissed you breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d be content if you were the only person he could kiss forever. And when he lifted his head, half-lidded eyes burning into yours – you knew it was true. He didn’t even half to say it.

Sitting up slightly, his deft fingers slowly started unbuttoning the puffy-sleeved blouse you wore to work today. (Which you definitely didn’t expect him to be taking off when you dressed yourself this morning.) When all the buttons were free, he paused, simply admiring the view of your exposed stomach, the curve of your breasts nestled in your bra. You almost wished you wore something cuter, but how the hell were you supposed to know this was going to happen? You grabbed his hand, calling out his name in a voice that he had only heard in his deepest fantasies.

“Sorry, I just …” He finally pushed the fabric to the side, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. As his hand came around to unhook your bra, he continued, “I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long. It doesn’t seem real.”

You realized then … that night in his dorm – you hadn’t taken your t-shirt off. Anxiety had riddled your head, too scared of him seeing all of you. Although you had let him between your legs, being fully nude was different. That was true vulnerability, and you hadn’t been ready for that.

Until now. You shrugged off the bra, letting it fall onto his floor, and laid back.

He was looking at you like he’d seen God.

So you took his hand in yours and placed it on one of your breasts. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered, leaning down and wrapping his lips around one nipple. Your back arched off the sheets – purple, the same ones you bought him when he moved here – moaning softly while he played with the other nipple in his right hand. The weight of them was out of this world; all his perverted fantasies when he saw you in low-cut tops coming to life in this very moment. Every time he felt guilty for staring at you too long – they didn’t matter anymore. Because you had wanted this just as much as him.

“God,” he huffed, mouth dragging over to the other nipple, laving his tongue over it. “You’re a dream come true.”

Maybe he was just in love but the sounds you made were practically pornographic. Your hips bucked against his knee in between your legs, begging for friction. You could already feel your own arousal through your slacks – a mortifying cleanup you’d fret on tomorrow morning. As much as he wanted to play here forever, he knew how much you wanted his tongue inside you, so he relented. 

His gaze on yours, Wonwoo peppered kisses down your stomach, making sure to nip at that beauty mark near your belly button, before he stood tall again. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, you were reminded just how toned he had gotten since college. You had never like a hulking, strong man, but Wonwoo had definition, hidden muscles in his biceps that had gotten bigger than you thought. He hid all this underneath those oversized tees, the sweaters he wore to work everyday. It was like he crafted in a lab specifically for you, nerdy interests and all.

Setting his glasses on his desk, he finally pulled down on the zipper of your trousers, and you both worked together to shimmy yourself out of them. But you almost wished you didn’t, because underneath those slacks was the evidence of just how much you wanted this, how utterly wet you were for him. 

Wonwoo leaned over you again, so close to your face that you could see the lines underneath his eyes. “You’re completely soaked,” he murmured, snaking a hand between your bodies to graze two fingers down your clothed slit. The material of your panties was practically translucent, and your hips bucked immediately. “Needed me that bad, huh?”

“Don’t act so smug –” You barked, until you felt it: one finger pushing the fabric to the side while the other just barely prodded at your entrance. Breath hitched, you whimpered, “Yes.”

He smirked, going back down and kneeling at the foot of his bed. Pulling your panties off slowly, you expected him to take his time, even though you had both been waiting for this longer than you could remember. A yelp escaped your lips when he hauled you forward, and you felt his hot breath there, making you clench around nothing. One ankle rested on his left shoulder, opening yourself up to him, and you were pushing back hair from his forehead when you realized he was inhaling your scent. Your breathing stuttered, barely able to get out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t shave –”

His face was already buried between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth like candy. Your head thrashed to the side, fingers digging into his hair and you yanked at him – hard. He groaned into you, teasing your wet hole with the tip of his tongue, devouring you whole. Everything about you was intoxicating: your taste, your sounds, even the way you pulled at his hair. It felt like you were actually trying to rip it out, and truthfully, that was a fate he’d risk if it meant he could stay here forever. Between your thighs, lapping at you until you were overstimulated and begging him to stop. 

Your hips were now bucking against his face, free hand clenched at your side, as you lost yourself in the magic of Wonwoo’s tongue. The memory of how good this was in college diminished to nothing in that moment. He was out of practice and yet, this was the best you had felt in a long time. Wonwoo had this way of sucking on your clit before tongue-fucking you like it was out of style, and then repeating those steps all over again, sometimes using his nose to play with your clit in between. You yanked on his hair again, bringing him that much closer as you moaned, “Wonwoo.”

“Harder.”

“What?” Your head lifted.

His eyes met yours from the end of the bed. Mouth just barely leaving your pussy, he demanded, “Pull my hair harder.”

He didn’t give you a second to respond, already diving back into you. His mouth wrapped around your clit and you yanked on his hair as hard as you could and – the groan he let out reverberated through your entire body, making your nipples hard all over again. You felt that tip of his finger again – no, it was two – sliding into you and nestled in that place only he would remember. Because Wonwoo was attentive. Wonwoo remembered. He knew that the best way to get you there was tugging your clit between his teeth while he crooked those two fingers against a spot that made your thighs shake. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, pumping his fingers into you. “You’re so tight.”

You pulled on his hair, making him press his erection against the bed frame. “It’s been a while.”

He was looking up at you again, noticing the way your jaw clenched, and he clarified, “That doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. A name you never thought you’d hear from his lips. You clenched around his fingers, sucking them more in.

“You close?” He asked, going in to drag his tongue through you. “Want me to edge you?”

You scoffed. “You know I don’t like that.”

He chuckled, slipping his fingers out to lick them clean. “Maybe next time.”

A snarky reply was on the tip of your tongue until his tongue was circling that swollen bundle of nerves. Three fingers were now stuffed inside you, sliding in and out while curling against that – “Yes, right there” – spot. If you felt this full with his fingers … you couldn’t even remember what his cock felt like. Your breathing was already uneven and he was moaning while sucking on your clit and – oh. Your orgasm crested and you were pulling on his hair so much that you were sure there’d be a funny, little bald patch after. His name fell from your lips and he kept licking you through it, grinding his achingly hard cock against the bed. 

Despite his own greed, Wonwoo pulled away when your ankle relaxed on his shoulder once again. You already looked so fucked out on his bed: chest heaving, sweat dotting your hairline. This was something out of a dream, one that he had many times, leaving him waking up hard until he fisted his cock to completion. Your arousal dripped down his chin and he hardly made an effort to clean it up, instead crawling up on the bed and kissing you breathless, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands had other plans though. One tugged on the ties at his waistband, while the other slipped under it, finding his erection so easily. No underwear, just like you assumed.He was throbbing, precum staining the thick fabric of his sweatpants, and you trailed a digit along the base. “Since when do you not wear underwear, you pervert?” You laughed against his mouth.

You felt him smile against yours. “In my defense,” he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I didn’t exactly expect anyone would be coming over.”

“What about Mingyu?” You squeezed at the middle of his shaft, earning a grunt from him.

“I thought we were done talking about my roommate before I fuck you.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Touché.”

He sat up on his knees between your legs, allowing you to help him pull his cock out. Wait. Was he always this big? That night in college was clearly a blur because this was not what you expected. The trail of dark hair that led to his groin didn’t surprise you – he had always been on the hairier side, too lazy to shave even his fingers – it was the whole package. His cock was long, thicker than you remembered, that dark hair trailing all the way down to the base and scattered around his balls. He had just two veins etched towards a flared pink tip, dripping more precum onto his sweats that were hanging just under his ass. 

You didn’t even bother having him kick them off, wrapping your hand around his shaft again and slowly dragging it up, his whole body tense as he held himself back. He almost fell forward, but then braced one of his long arms by his hip to steady himself. “This is – fuck –” He muttered when you squeezed him at the tip. “This is evil.”

“I’m micromanaging.” You grinned, your finger leisurely tracing the vein on the right side of his shaft, making his knees buckle.

He laughed under his breath. “You have no idea –” His jaw shifted when you started pumping him a little faster. “– How many times I thought about this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “Felt so guilty after I jerked off – fuck – but nothing got me hard like the thought of you. And then, there were the dreams –”

Your hand paused at the base. “Wait, you’re being serious?” You asked, and his eyes flashed open, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Then, you confessed, “I had dreams about you too. Touched myself and imagined it was you. For years.”

“Oh, my god.” His head fell into your shoulder, as if this revelation was physically painful. Or maybe it was because your grip was squeezing him a little too well. “If we don’t finally have sex, I think I might cum.”

You chuckled, louder than you expected, placing your free hand over your mouth. But he removed it as your other palm slipped from his cock, muttering something about how much he loved the way you laughed, but your heart was pounding too much to hear it. Hooking one of your legs around his waist, he gripped his cock and guided it forward, nudging your entrance. His eyes lifted to yours, darker than you’ve ever seen.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he muttered, but his tone suggested that it was more of a demand. “How much you want me inside you.”

Your brow lifted. “Don’t be silly. I thought we were on a time crunch here.”

Now his brows were shooting to his hairline. “So you don’t want it?”

“Wonwoo, stop playing around –”

You hadn’t even realized until you felt it: his hand leaving his cock to rub slow circles on your already sensitive clit. Legs parting even more, you whined and you almost didn’t recognize your own voice. “What was that again?” He smirked, pinching your clit in a way that made your toes curl. 

“Jesus, okay – I want it so bad,” you moaned, eyes closed as you surrendered to his touch. “Wonwoo, please – just … Oh, my god – please, fuck me. I think I might go fucking crazy if you’re not inside me in the next ten seconds –”

He pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt. You almost cried from the stretch. It was more than you expected, but you now realized that maybe you should stop having expectations with Wonwoo. He groaned, still rubbing your clit to get you to loosen up more, while hiking your right leg on his waist higher. Savoring the feeling of finally being inside you again, he peppered kisses on your cheek, humming against your skin, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” and, “my best girl, my sweetest girl.”

“It’s so – too much, Wonwoo,” you mewled, even though you suddenly didn’t want to imagine a second without him stuffed inside you like this. So full, so deep – you wondered if you’d feel him the next day.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he cooed, tilting his head to graze his lips over yours. “I know you’re tight, but you can take it, right?”

He leaned back slightly to look in your eyes, wiped the tears that threatened to fall, and you nodded.

“Good girl,” he muttered before pulling all the way out. You didn’t even have a moment to catch you breath before he was slamming back in, his jaw unhinging at just how good you felt.

This was different than that time in his dorm. You were both older, not all that wiser, but there was purpose here. He created a rhythm between you two that had you feeling every vein, every fucking ridge, and you were now wondering who taught Wonwoo to fuck like this. Because it surely hadn’t been you. Or maybe this was just a case of his memory again, because it only took him a few deep thrusts to find the perfect angle that brushed your g-spot, causing your legs to jerk upward. He caught your right thigh before it fell, and then bullied his cock back into you as stars flashed in your vision.

Your arms wound around his neck, fingers raking at the nape of his neck, and then pulling, just the way he liked it. “Fuck –” He groaned, his warm breath mingling with yours. “Missed you so much. Missed being inside you. God –”

The discomfort subsided, as if your pussy had molded itself to the shape of his cock, and it was then that you realized that you never wanted to fuck anyone besides Wonwoo for the rest of your life. You had ten years to have your fun, but this – he punctuated your thought with a hard thrust that made your whole body tremble – was it. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t want anyone else. 

Just Wonwoo. 

You whined out his name, yanking on his hair as he filled you to the brim over and over again. His fingers – those long, fucking fingers – tweaked your nipples just right, and your back arched into him. “Please, don’t stop,” you begged, catching his lip between your teeth for a moment. “Close. So close. Wanna cum with you.”

“I’ll get you there, sweetheart,” he promised, making that warmth in your gut pool even more. If he didn’t get you over that peak soon, you were going to lose it. “Don’t worry. I got you.”

It was almost funny: the lewd sounds of him fucking into you mixing with Billy Crystal reciting the most devastating monologue known to man as When Harry Met Sally continued on his TV. Your focus shifted when his fingers gave one last pinch to your nipple before dragging down, down, down – all the way until his thumb was rubbing circles on your aching bud again. Harder this time. Like the way you pulled his hair. His digits were harsh, eager to feel you tighten around his cock. He wasn’t even fucking into you anymore; he was buried so deep that you felt him everywhere.

But then it happened: your walls clamping around him, your breathing stifled, and he was trying to fight the urge of cumming himself to praise you. “That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You whimpered his name, orgasm crashing over you, and he was still rubbing your clit. “There you go. I got you, sweetheart.”

Your whole body was shaking, and it felt almost religious coming undone for him like this. Like it was written in the stars, or maybe your own obliviousness. It felt like every good memory led to this: the best orgasm of your life with the man you’d been in love with since you were 20.

When he felt your walls start to unclench the slightest bit, that was his cue to move again. He pulled out, and then pushed back in so deep that it felt like you were cumming all over again. Fucking into you like this would become an addiction, he just knew it, because when he finally chased his high and practically cried against your mouth, there was no other feeling like it. The way you held onto him, sucking him back in like a vice, as he fucked his release back into you – maybe you were made for him all this time.

All those years depriving himself of this left him desperate and enamored. He was already going soft but he was still pushing into you, not letting any of his seed escape, and you were clenching yet again, cumming all over his cock like it was the only thing you knew how to do. In all honesty, Wonwoo was tempted to keep going, but when he saw the way your body was damn near shivering in his arms, he decided that it was probably not the smartest to overstimulate you during the first time in so long.

He waited almost a decade for you. He could make up for lost time eventually.

Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly, feeling you smile into it. Even though him slipping out of you felt empty after all that, you were almost grateful for the reprieve. His soft cock pressed against your thigh, but he stayed there, on top of you, kissing you like you two were 80 and had been doing this all your lives. You hoped that could be your future after all. Because when he leaned back slightly and your hand came to rest on his jaw, you saw the kind of love you secretly always wanted: the kind that would span years, reincarnated in different people. 

Wonwoo rolled onto his back, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants back up before relaxing against the pillows. You curled into his side and he picked up the forgotten remote, seeing the credits run across the small TV at the foot of his bed. “Shit, we missed all of the movie,” he joked.

You chuckled, arm circling around his middle as he tugged a sheet over you. “We can rewind.”

VIII.

You are where all roads lead back to. Parts of you exist in everything I’ve ever loved. –UNKNOWN

You had never been one for morning sex. Always preferred to wake up without distractions and get to your day as soon as possible. Wonwoo might change that though.

After realizing that it was a Friday night and the both of you had no plans the next day, he obviously had to twist your arm to stay over. You had come to his apartment with no plan, just the tote bag you brought to the office everyday and your rain jacket, so you mildly freaked at the idea of staying over without your favorite toothpaste or facial cleanser, only to find out that Wonwoo kept them stocked just in case. Like he was waiting for the day you slept over again. Except it was different this time, because you were dozing off in his arms as he whispered, “I love you,” and your smitten ass was saying it back.

Waking up to his chest against your back, hard cock pressed into your asscheek, as his hand snaked around to your front to dip his fingers between your legs wasn’t exactly what you imagined, but you liked it. Far more than you ever realized. And you supposed that maybe you secretly wanted this to happen because you did fall asleep in just his t-shirt. (Who’s to say?) It wasn’t long before he was having you cum on his fingers, prying your legs open with his own so he could fuck you on your side like this. Your head had turned to meet his lips from over your shoulder and – oh, absolutely nothing was better than this.

Once you were both spent, he let you fall back asleep – something you never did. You were typically an early riser, never once allowing yourself to sleep in and waste the day. He knew this already, which meant he had to physically tuck you back in under his duvet so you would make yourself comfortable again. “Just relax for once,” he chuckled before pecking your cheek. “Give yourself another hour. I’ll have Mingyu whip us up something.”

“Oh, good,” you replied sleepily, cheek flush with his pillow, “I thought you were going to cook and burn the kitchen down.”

He flicked your nose. “Funny.”

When you rolled out of bed an hour later, you chose to look decent and pulled on a pair of his clean boxers. You looked ridiculous, covered head to toe in Wonwoo, and even though he had let you borrow his clothes before, this felt special. What’s his was also yours now. 

You ran a hand through your tangled mess of hair and tugged it through a scrunchie, padding out into the common area. Mingyu was already gone, probably off to his restaurant, and left Wonwoo some bills to go food shopping later. You crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paused, admiring Wonwoo. He was humming to himself while placing a pod in the Keurig, another steaming mug already waiting for you at his small dining table. You always thought he was handsome, but there was something about his hair sticking up in different directions, the way his sweatpants hung loose on his waist, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose … it did something to you. Nothing was more perfect than Jeon Wonwoo in the morning.

“Is this for me?” You asked, pointing to the mug on the table, and he didn’t even jump at the sound of your voice. As if he expected you there all along.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m almost done with mine, and Mingyu cooked us up some of those fluffy eggs with veggies. The ones you like.”

Sitting down at the table, you crossed one leg underneath the other and took a hefty sip. It was bitter and dark – just the way you liked it. Wonwoo joined you at the table after pouring a splash of milk in his mug, and you both sat there for a moment, perfectly at peace with the silence. It reminded you of that morning – after the first and only hookup – how your knees just barely brushed and the open windows that smelled of fresh flowers, like spring in bloom. Except this time, the weight of liking him didn’t feel like a curse. There were no final exams to worry about. And Wonwoo was now reaching out his hand: still hesitant, but certain. It was a declaration.

An origin wound now healed. 

You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “We really are terrible at casual,” you mused, “which is why I really want to try this time.”

Wonwoo brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. His voice was almost cinematic as he replied, “Me too.”

When you were together in person, that invisible tether only tightened. It was in the way you naturally gravitated toward each other in a crowded room, or how, during movie nights at the dorm, you’d end up sharing a single throw blanket on the floor. You would lean your head on his shoulder, and he would respond by shifting his weight to make you more comfortable, his arm draped casually behind your back. To you, it felt like the ultimate safety a platonic sanctuary where you could be yourself.

But to anyone watching, the physical gravity between you was undeniable. He would touch your arm to get your attention, or rest his hand on the nape of your neck while explaining something, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin that sent quiet jolts through your system.

The reality of your "closeness" usually came crashing down the moment the other members entered the frame. The following afternoon, when you stopped by the Pledis practice room with a tray of iced Americanos, the atmosphere shifted instantly from professional focus to relentless mischief.

As you handed Wonwoo his drink, your fingers lingered against his a habit you hadn't even realized you’d formed. He didn't pull away; instead, he stepped into your space, his tall frame shielding you slightly from the rest of the room. It was a domestic, quiet moment that lasted all of five seconds before the peanut gallery opened fire.

"Oh, look, everyone," Soonyoung announced, his voice echoing off the mirrors as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "The 'Best Friend' has arrived with the life-giving caffeine. Though, judging by the dark circles under Wonwoo’s eyes, maybe she should have brought him a pillow instead. How long was the call last night? Three hours? Four?"

Wonwoo’s ears immediately flushed a deep, tell-tale crimson, a stark contrast to his cool demeanor. He took a slow sip of his coffee, trying to ignore the way Mingyu was now leaning over his shoulder with a predatory grin. "We had things to discuss," Wonwoo muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite. Mingyu let out a loud, dramatic scoff, looping an arm around Wonwoo’s neck. "Things to discuss? At 3:00 AM? I tried to call him to ask about a game level, and I got the busy signal for two hours. I’m starting to think I need to schedule an appointment just to talk to my own teammate."

The teasing was relentless a chorus of "oohs" and fake heart signs from Seungkwan and Chan but through it all, Wonwoo never moved away from you. Even as he told them to shut up and go back to practice, he kept his hand hovering near the small of your back, a silent, grounding presence. He treated the teasing like background noise, but as he caught your eye and gave you a private, tired smile, you couldn't help but wonder if the "friends" label was a shield you were both using to hide from a truth that everyone else could already see.

Does the constant commentary from the guys make you want to pull back to keep things "normal," or does it make you more curious about why Wonwoo never actually denies what they're implying?

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with the scent of floor wax and the lingering energy of a grueling dance session, but for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. Despite the chaotic energy of thirteen other men buzzing around, Wonwoo stayed anchored right where he was. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours, even as Seungkwan began a theatrical reenactment of what he imagined your late-night conversations sounded like. The members’ laughter bounced off the high ceilings, but Wonwoo’s focus acted like a silencer, turning their jokes into nothing more than white noise.

"Don't listen to them," he said softly, his voice cutting through the din. He reached out, his long fingers brushing a stray thread off the shoulder of your sweater. The gesture was so casual, so inherently domestic, that it drew another round of whistles from the corner where Hoshi and Dino were stretching. "They’re just bored because the choreography is giving them a headache."

"Is that why your phone bill is probably higher than the national debt?" Mingyu chimed in, passing by to grab a towel. He gave Wonwoo a pointed look, one that said he wasn't buying the 'boredom' excuse for a second. "I’m just saying, Y/N, the guy sleeps through his alarms every morning now, but he never seems to miss a notification from you. It’s a medical mystery, really."

You felt the heat rising in your own cheeks, a frantic fluttering in your chest that you tried to suppress with a nervous laugh. "We just lose track of time," you offered, though even to your own ears, the explanation sounded thin. You looked up at Wonwoo, expecting him to finally jump in and set the record straight to tell them they were overstepping or that it wasn't like that but he didn't. Instead, he just hummed in agreement, his thumb absentmindedly grazing the side of your hand where he still held the coffee cup. It was a silent admission, a refusal to deny the tether that pulled the two of you together when the rest of the world went to sleep.

As the leader called for them to get back into formation, the members began to disperse, still throwing parting shots over their shoulders. The sudden quiet left a strange, heavy tension between you. Wonwoo stepped even closer, his shadow falling over you, shielding you from the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent lights. For a second, his cool, composed mask slipped, and you saw the same vulnerability that usually only emerged at 3:00 AM over a grainy video feed. He looked like he wanted to say something something that had nothing to do with being "just friends" and everything to do with the way he reached for his phone the moment he woke up.

"I'll call you later?" he asked, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the others. It wasn't a question of if, but when.

"Always," you whispered back.

He gave you one last look a lingering, searching gaze that felt like a physical touch before turning to join his team. As you walked toward the exit, you could hear the distant sound of the music starting back up, but your mind was already miles ahead, counting down the hours until the sun went down and the blue light of the digital clock signaled the only time of day that truly mattered. The teasing might have been a joke to the guys, but as you felt the ghost of his touch on your hand, you realized the punchline was starting to feel a lot like the truth.

The transition from the practice room to the real world felt like stepping into a dream that was finally gaining clarity. A few nights after the teasing in the studio, the two of you found yourselves walking through a secluded park near his dorm. The air was crisp, smelling of damp earth and late-blooming jasmine, and the moonlight turned the paved path into a silver ribbon. You were walking so close that your sleeves brushed with every step, a rhythmic friction that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

Suddenly, Wonwoo stopped. Without a word, he reached out and pulled you into a hug that felt different from any of the casual leans or "friend" embraces you’d shared before. This was a grounding, heavy embrace; he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist as if he were trying to memorize the exact shape of you. You stood there for a long time, the silence of the park wrapping around you, both of you realizing that the "safety net" had finally snapped.

That hug set a fire that culminated a few nights later. The call started at 6:00 PM, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, and it didn't end until 3:00 AM. There were no games, no videos to watch together, and no distractions. It was just a raw, nine-hour conversation that stripped away every defense you both had. The words "I like you" finally spilled out, whispered into the receivers of your phones like a shared secret that had been kept for too long. He told you he had felt this way for months; you told him he was the only thing you thought about. When you finally hung up to sleep, your heart felt lighter than it ever had. You fell asleep with a smile, convinced that everything was about to change.

Then, the silence began.

The "morning after" text you expected never came. By 12:00 PM, you figured he was just sleeping in after the marathon call. By 6:00 PM, you assumed practice was running over. But by the next morning, the pit in your stomach began to grow. Your "Good morning" text sat unread. Your call that evening went straight to voicemail. One day turned into three, and three days turned into a week.

Wonwoo went completely M.I.A.

The silence was deafening. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart leaped, only to shatter when you saw it was just a weather alert or a group chat notification. You went from being confused to being hurt, and finally, to feeling a soul-crushing sense of regret. You replayed that nine-hour call in your head a thousand times, dissecting every word you said. Did I say too much? Did I scare him off? Was the confession just a lapse in judgment for him?

The weight of being "played" began to settle in your chest like lead. You felt like a fool for believing the late-night whispers and the way he had held you in the park. You felt exposed, having laid your heart bare to someone who could suddenly treat you like a stranger. The teasing from his friends, which used to feel cute, now felt like a cruel irony. You felt like shit discarded and ghosted by the person you trusted most.

For two agonizing weeks, Wonwoo became a ghost. You saw him on social media updates for the group looking tired, looking busy, but looking fine while you were falling apart in the quiet of your room. The space where your nightly calls used to be was now filled with a hollow ache, and you found yourself staring at the digital clock at 2:14 AM, regretting the day you ever let yourself believe that a "best friend" could be something more.

The tears didn't come all at once; they arrived in waves, crashing over you the moment the reality of the silence finally broke your spirit. For the first few days, you had been numb, staring at your phone screen until the light burned your retinas, waiting for a dot to turn green or a typing bubble to appear. But by the fourth night, the dam broke. You were sitting on the edge of your bed at 3:00 AM the hour that used to belong to him and the sheer, suffocating weight of his absence became physical. You curled into a ball, clutching your pillow to your chest, and sobbed until your throat felt raw and your eyes were swollen shut.

The pain wasn't just about the silence; it was the humiliation that followed it. Every sob was punctuated by a memory of that nine-hour call. You felt sick to your stomach remembering how you had whispered your deepest insecurities to him, how you had let your guard down so completely because he had made you feel safe. Now, that safety felt like a trap. You felt played, like a temporary distraction he had used to fill his lonely hours until he decided he didn't need you anymore. The thought that you were just a "phase" or a "mistake" he was now trying to erase made you let out a broken, jagged cry into the dark.

Days bled into one another, marked only by the stains of salt on your cheeks. You stopped checking your phone because the sight of his name still sitting there at the top of your recent contacts was like a knife twisting in your gut. You felt like a fool. You remembered the way he had held you in the park, the way his heartbeat had thudded against your ear, and you hated him for it. You hated him for making you feel loved only to leave you gasping for air in the vacuum he left behind. You went to sleep crying and woke up with the heavy, leaden realization that he still hadn't called, his ghost haunting every corner of your room.

By the second week, the sadness had turned into a hollow, aching exhaustion. You looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the person staring back someone with hollowed-out eyes and a spirit that felt permanently bruised. You regretted everything. You regretted the first time you stayed up late to talk to him; you regretted the coffee runs and the shared blankets. Most of all, you regretted the confession. You felt like you had handed him the weapon to destroy you, and he had used it without a second thought. The silence wasn't just a lack of communication; it was a loud, clear message that you didn't matter as much to him as he mattered to you, and that realization was a grief so profound it felt like it would never end.

The second week drew to a close, and the grief had shifted from a sharp, screaming pain to a dull, constant throb. You moved through your apartment like a ghost, your movements sluggish and mechanical. The silence of your phone had become a permanent resident in your life, a cold companion that sat on the nightstand reminding you of your own foolishness. You had reached the stage of heartbreak where you weren't even angry anymore; you were just empty. You felt as though you had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but the echoes of his promises and the lingering scent of his laundry detergent on a hoodie you couldn't bring yourself to throw away, but couldn't bear to look at.

One evening, you found yourself sitting on the floor of your kitchen, the cold tile pressing against your legs. You hadn't turned the lights on, letting the blue twilight of the city seep through the windows. You thought about the park how the moonlight had caught the bridge of his nose, how his hands had felt so steady on your waist. You realized with a fresh burst of tears that you weren't just mourning a crush; you were mourning your best friend. He was the person you went to when the world felt too heavy, and now, he was the reason it felt impossible to breathe. By cutting you off, he hadn't just taken away a potential future; he had reached back and poisoned every memory of the past three years.

Every "I love you" you had whispered into the phone during that nine-hour marathon now felt like a debt you had paid to a person who never intended to pay you back. You felt cheapened, as if your vulnerability was something he had collected like a trophy before moving on to the next thing.

Then, on the fourteenth night, the silence finally broke.

You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, your eyes dry and burning from days of crying, when your phone vibrated on the mattress next to you. The sound was so foreign, so sudden, that you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your heart, which had felt like a lead weight for two weeks, gave a violent, painful kick against your ribs. You didn't want to look. You told yourself it was a wrong number, a spam call, or Mingyu checking in to see if you were still alive. But when you reached out with a trembling hand and turned the screen over, the name staring back at you was the one that had been etched into your brain for a fortnight.

Wonwoo.

The screen glowed with his contact photo a candid shot you’d taken of him laughing over a bowl of ramen. For a moment, you couldn't move. You just watched the phone vibrate, the "Accept" and "Decline" buttons blurred by the sudden, hot arrival of new tears. Two weeks of agony, two weeks of feeling like garbage, two weeks of wondering if you ever mattered at all and now he was calling at 1:15 AM as if the world hadn't ended in his absence.

Your thumb hovered over the red button. You wanted to reject him, to let him feel even a fraction of the coldness he had shown you. You wanted to scream at him for what he had done to your sanity. But as the call reached its final rings, the desperate, pathetic part of your heart the part that still loved him despite the wreckage won out. With a shaky swipe, you answered, but you didn't say a word. You couldn't.

The silence on the other end lasted for a long, agonizing minute. All you could hear was his heavy, ragged breathing, sounding as though he had been running.

you wrap your hand back around your boyfriend’s cock and give him another languid stroke, watching in poorly disguised delight as his back arches off the mattress and his hips chase your hand.

you don’t give in, removing your hand entirely in favor of flattening your palm on his tummy to keep him in place.

“is this really what you wanted for your birthday or did you just want to get back at me for mine?”

“can’t it be a little bit of both?”

wonwoo groans and tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat like an offering.

“except i remember being much better behaved than you,” you point out. “don’t you want to be a good boy for my birthday?”

your boyfriend whines at that, having to take several beats to compose himself before answering.

“yes. of course i do, baby.”

“then stop complaining and take what i give you.”

to his credit, he nods resolutely and steels himself for the next edge.

you start even slower this time, working your fist over his cock at a borderline torturous pace. you wait until wonwoo visibly relaxes, until he lets that false sense of security wash over him, before speeding up without warning.

the change is immediate. he tenses up and clutches desperately at your wrist to try and get you to take mercy on him.

“fuck, baby— close. i’m close! you have to stop.”

“oh i have to, do i?”

“if you don’t want me to cum, yeah,” he grumbles.

“that’s not how this works,” you remind him. “you came up with the rules you should know that.”

his eyes narrow in your direction once again, but he refrains from commenting this time. smart man. occasionally.

“i think i’m going to ride you now,” you say as if you’d just decided and hadn’t been planning to all day.

your boyfriend makes an undignified noise as you straddle his lap and position yourself over him, his hands fisting the sheets.

“i don’t know if i’ll be able to last if you fuck me,” he admits, cock twitching against his stomach.

you pout. “but you have to! we’re only halfway there.”

he sighs in fondness, exasperation, and acceptance of his fate. “you’re evil, you know that?”

you lean down to kiss him, grinning at how his pupils dilate and betray his eagerness, but you pause just before your lips meet his.

You feel the ache in your body as you wake up from another cry-induced nap on your couch. The feeling of your dried tears cracking across your cheeks. You look to your left and see that there's a mug with a sticky note attached to it on your magazine covered coffee table. A groan comes from you as you're leaning over to grab it.

"Drink this and stop thinking about him xx"

You smile at the kind gesture of your best friend. Sending her a quick thank you text, you stand up and peer into the mug. The smell of your favorite warm drink hits your nose and you're filled with a sense of comfort.

After letting the steaming mug wake you up, you decide to take her advice. You shouldn't think about your ex anymore. You remind yourself that sometimes things just don't work out. Surveying the state of your studio apartment, you wrinkle your nose at the result. Walking into the kitchen, you grab a sticky note and write the things that need to be done:

throw trash away

put clothes away

vacuum

Crouching down under the sink, you pull out two garbage bags. You replace the bin that's sitting in your kitchen and take the other empty bag to walk around your studio. There are empty candy wrappers and popcorn bags that litter the side of your couch, a reminder of your coping skills from the night before. Once you've filled it, you tie it up and set the two bags by the door. You strike a line through the first task.

You set out to tackle the second task: putting away the mountain of clothes that have accumulated. Deciding that you didn't want to work in silence, you pick a vinyl off the shelf to play. You've been a fan of analog media for most of your life, you don't remember what exactly started it but the fascination followed you into adulthood. The soft melodies of the first track flow through your speakers and you plop yourself at the foot of your bed to start sorting. You begin arranging the clothes in piles and fall into a rhythm: clothes being donated fell into a pile on your right and the ones you were keeping were being folded neatly into a stack. As you get to the end, a navy blue cardigan catches your attention. Gingerly you pick it up and fold it into your lap. This was the cardigan you wore the first time you confessed your feelings to Seungcheol.

You hold up one of the sleeves and see that the red star you'd stitched into the sleeve had a loose thread. You'd stitched the shape into the cardigan after Seungcheol noticed it when you were holding hands. In a cruel twist of fate, it was the also the same one you wore when he broke your heart. That was six months ago.

A laugh bubbles out of your throat at the timing the universe has. There's a small ache that knocks in your chest as you fold the sleeves in and you're confronted with the choice of keep or donate.

Before the ache can consume you, a loud thud outside your apartment breaks you out of your thoughts. The first thought in your brain is that the sweet old lady from across the way must have dropped something heavy. Your eyes flit to the trash bags by your door and figure you can inspect the source of the noise on your way out to the dumpster. You make your way outside with the bags of trash hooked onto your left arm.

What's outside your door is not the usual nice elderly woman that you're accustomed to, instead a man, an incredibly cute one, who is silently cursing himself. There's also a mess of groceries that have spilled out into hallway. The two of you make eye contact and he apologizes for the mess, you shrug and step around the mess to head downstairs and throw your trash out. Your mouth moves before your brain does and you tell him that you'll be back to help. There's a slight skip in your step as you bounce back up the stairs. You round the corner and find the stranger on his knees, carefully placing the groceries back into the brown paper bag. Rushing over, you grab the rest of the items and hand them to him. He takes them gratefully and offers you a smile that warms you on the inside.

"Thanks again, you didn't have to," he says sheepishly. The baritone in his voice taking you a bit by surprise.

"Oh, no worries!" You shoot back a smile.

The two of you stand up at the same time, but there's barely any space between the two of you. You pick up the scent of cherries and something musky that makes you melt. You wish him a good day and head back inside. There's a smile on your face as you press your back against your door. Shaking your head, you pad over to your bed to finish the second task on your list. Picking up the pile of folded clothes, you swing open your closet door with the back of your heel. You place things in their designated spaces until you're finished. Padding over to the kitchen you cross off the task as you're pulling out a bin for the pile of clothes you've decided to donate. You leave it right by the door, so you don't forget it the next time you're out.

There is one last task left and you head back to your closet to dig out the vacuum. You make sure that most of the larger things on the floor are picked up and out of the way. You also take a second to pause the record that's playing since you won't be able to hear it over the roar of the vacuum. Thankful that you had a cordless vacuum, you begin the final task on your list.

As you're moving around, you hit your coffee table and some of the magazines on it fall to the floor. Switching off the vacuum, you kneel down to stack the magazines together. One of them slid a bit under your couch, so you reach in to swipe it back out. As you're reaching in, you feel a small plastic cylinder at the edge of the magazine. Wrapping your fingers around it, you pull your arm back to find a film canister. The label on it is pretty much smudged off so you have no clue how dated this thing is. You place the newly found item on your coffee table and finish vacuuming.

When you finally finish, you find yourself quite hungry. Opening your fridge, you are pleasantly surprised when you find a tupperware filled with your favorite food. The glass container decorated with another sticky note, which you can only assume is from your best friend. You take the container out, peel the note off and pop the food into the microwave. While waiting for your food, you take a look at the note she left behind.

"Because sometimes, we just need our favorites to cheer us up xx"

You smile and send her yet another thank you text. She responds by calling you. Your phone rings at the same time that your microwave beeps — you quickly put her on speakerphone, grab the food, and ask about her day. As you let her ramble about her job and the incompetence of her coworkers, you're shoving food into your mouth. The heat of it burning your tongue and you're quick to shout a curse. You hear her giggle on the other end and pout at the fact that she's laughing at your pain. She turns the conversation on you and asks what you did with your day. You run through the task list— talked about the cute guy who spilled his groceries in front your door, the fact that your navy blue cardigan was part of TWO emotional heights in your relationships, and the random film canister you found. You even ask her if the canister was hers. She replies that she doesn't remember leaving a canister at yours and suggests that you take it over to Carat Lab. Hitting your kitchen countertop, you squeal at her good idea, bringing up that you'd been meaning to get over there to get your camera looked at. The two of you wrap up your conversation after making plans to see each other.

It's the following morning and you decide, that it was time to get your camera checked out. On your last trip, it had slipped out of your hands and since then the shutter has been acting wonky. You take a quick shower and get dressed.

You walk into Carat Lab expecting to find the small old lady that usually runs the counter (who also happens to be your neighbor) but instead you find the incredibly cute stranger from yesterday. He has a film camera taken apart and he's tinkering with it. Immediately you notice his hands and how gentle they are while he's holding the camera. What really pulls your attention, is the vein that runs along his thumb when he has to apply a bit of force to close the camera. You don't even notice yourself biting your lip until you feel the pain of your tooth digging into your skin. Surveying the shop, you find that no one else is working the counter so you're stuck walking up. The stranger with the nice hands doesn't notice you immediately, so you lightly knock on the glass display. He looks up with a slightly shocked look on his face, that forms into recognition.

"Stalking me now, are we?" He says with a smirk perched on his face. Shooting back a look of disbelief, you immediately launch into your story to dispel any notion that you had followed him. Opening up your purse you fish out your camera, making sure to be careful, and place it on the glass.

"See? I have a perfectly good, non-creepy reason to be here. If anything I should be asking you that question!" You huff at him, questioning where the grandma who usually works the store is. Chuckling to himself, he gestures at a framed picture behind him on the wall.

"Who? Her? That's my grandmother," while he explains his relationship to her, he continues to work on the camera from earlier. Your eyes move back to his hands and you're mesmerized by the meticulousness and gentleness he has. While you're watching him, you recollect that Mrs. Jeon had talked about her grandchildren before. She'd shown you pictures, but they were all from when the kids were younger, so you didn't really know what they looked like.

Until now. And god, did this grandkid age well.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, he introduces himself with a hand extended to you.

"I'm Wonwoo, and you are?" Taking his hand, you shake it and give him your name. You don't miss the small bit of heat that settles at the bottom of your stomach when your hands touch.

"Well, for the record, if you were stalking me, I wouldn't have minded." He says as he gives you a wink. The tips of your ears go red. Finishing up with the camera he'd been working on, he asks you to hand yours over. Gently, you slide it to him. He picks it up, giving you a compliment on the model you own.

"I don't see this one too often, she's an oldie." He smiles and it's blinding. After placing the camera on a mat, he turns and grabs a small toolbox from behind him. Popping it open, he plucks a small screwdriver to open the body of your camera. Once he has it open, he bends down to take a look at the camera. After a few moments, he picks up some other tools and starts to perform what looks like surgery on your camera.

"Your shutter is definitely broken. I can fix it but I'll need to order a specific part to replace the spring mechanism. It'll take me a bit of time…" He continues telling you that since your camera is quite niche, finding spare parts can be difficult. You nod and reply that you don't mind waiting. He puts your camera back together and places it on a working table behind him. He asks if there's anything else that he can do for you and you fish out the film canister in your left pocket.

"I found this the other day and I honestly have no clue what's on it so I'd love to get it developed," you offer him a kind smile and the plastic. He takes it with a nod and informs you that both your camera and this roll of film will be ready in between one and a half to two weeks. Pulling out a form from a shelf behind him, he slides it to you.

"It's just so we can call you once your things are ready. Don't worry, totally professional," he jokes with a wink. Smiling as you take the form, you quickly fill it out. After you slide back the piece of paper, he tells you that he'll see you soon and you reply with a quick nod. You begin to make your way out of the shop, but call out to him just before you exit.

"For the record, if you decided to be unprofessional, I wouldn't mind," you say with a wink that mirrored his from earlier.

A few hours after you leave the shop you hear a ping from your phone. You roll over from your bed and see a text from an unknown number.

Is asking you to dinner tonight also unprofessional?

There is a cheesy grin on your face as you reply to him.

Maybe. But like I said I don't mind ;)

The rest of your day is spent flirting through text messages with Wonwoo. Eventually you settle on the details. You calculate that you have about two hours to get ready. You thank the stars that you'd washed your hair that morning. You pull out a black dress that you know makes you look incredible. You lay it on your bed and continue to get ready. As the clock nears six, you're doing one last check in the mirror.

A knock interrupts you. Sauntering over to your front door and the sight that greets you is delectable. Your date is dressed in a black long sleeve button up and black pinstripe pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off the hands that you've become enamored with. You begin to feel a bit of shame that you're checking him out with the same energy of a starved bear and a piece of meat, but then you notice he's doing the same to you. His eyes are dark as they rake up and down your figure. The feeling of heat between your thighs making itself known again.

"You look… Wow." He admits. Flashing a confident smile you share the same sentiment. Distracted by his gaze, you grab a random cardigan off the back of your door and make your way outside. As you walk down the stairs, you swear you can feel the heat of his gaze.

Dinner is filled with pleasant conversations with an underlying tension so hot and heavy that you have to excuse yourself to the restroom.

When you return back to your table, you find that not only has Wonwoo ordered the two of you a dessert, he's also paid the bill. You chastise him and he retorts back that his grandmother would never let him hear the end of it, if he let you pay a cent. You oblige him by accepting this gesture on the condition you pay for the next date.

"A second date? Consider me lucky," he muses as you're taking a bite of the chocolate cake he ordered. You chuckle as this happens and this leaves a bit of frosting on the corner of your mouth that you don't notice.

He does.

"Oh you've got-" he points to his face. Mortified you try and wipe at the spot. By the look on his face, it doesn't seem like you've gotten all of it.

"Here, let me." Scooting closer to you, he brings his had to your face and his thumb swiped at the spot you missed. It grazes your lip and the tension in the room comes to a head when you suddenly take his thumb into your mouth. You swipe at the frosting with your tongue, and you meet his eyes as you do. Taking note of Wonwoo, you see him just as flushed, but his eyes are dark.

Releasing his thumb with a slight pop, you flash him a smirk. "Thanks."

He nods, taking a small breath. There's a split second of frenzy before the two of you are rushing to his car. Wonwoo guides you in front of him, his large hand warm and possessive on the small of your back. Still a gentleman, he opens the car door for you and you slide in. The entire drive, his hand is on your thigh, gradually rising higher.

Giggles are shared as you race up the stairs to your studio. As you fumble with the key, Wonwoo is pressing into you from behind, nipping at your ear and clawing your cardigan off. He gets it halfway off when you get your key into the door and unlock it. You move forward but find yourself pulling on something heavy. Looking down you notice that your cardigan is caught on his belt. Giving it a slight tug, you hear the sure snap of the thread. The ruined cardigan was tomorrow's problem.

It had been six days since your dinner date and it had been radio silence from Wonwoo. Pondering what could've gone wrong, you recount the night.

Dinner was great.

The sex was even better.

The morning after was pleasant as you shared a cup of coffee. Hell you even walked him to his car after he said he had to go back to the photo lab.

You frown as you toss your phone on your bed, as you've refreshed your notification center another time with no new messages. Flopping back on your bed, you land with a soft thud and a small exhale. Six seconds later, there's a ping to break the silence. If anyone else was around, you would be embarrassed at how fast your hand shoots out for your phone.

Hi this is Wonwoo from Carat Lab

The smile doesn't last long once you read the rest of the message.

Your items are ready for pick-up. We'll send another reminder in 3 days. Thank for you choosing us for your photo needs!

You scoff at the message and get dressed to go collect your items. As your walking out you almost slip on a cardigan that was lying on the floor. Picking it up, you inspect the fabric and there's a confused look on your face when you see the navy blue cardigan on your floor.

The one that you'd been thinking about getting rid of. The one that Seungcheol broke your heart in.

As you fold the cardigan, you look at the sleeve and see that the heart you'd stitched was pretty much pulled loose. For what feels like the hundredth time your brows scrunch up in confusion. You don't remember how it could've gotten this way.

Then the memory hits you. The sound of the snap from the night with Wonwoo rings clear in your ears. You laugh to yourself but it's cut short when you remember that the other half of your tango has been ignoring you for some reason.

Pushing the door open, you expect to see Wonwoo but you're greeted with an empty shop. You reason that he's likely developing film in the back. As you come up to the register you notice a sign that says "Press this button if no one's at the front". Before you're able to push the button, Mrs. Jeon greets you.

"Hi honey! You here to pick up your film? I thought I saw your name on a receipt earlier!" She coos at you while opening a binder. As she flips through, she asks how you've been and what you'd been up to. While you're updating her, you look for any sign of Wonwoo being around. Your shoulders slightly slump when you come up empty.

"Hmmm, I don't see your film but your camera is definitely ready. I'm about to head out for the day, but one of my grandkids is probably in the back working. Give me a second dear." She smiles at you sweetly and yells something towards the back.

You hear the unmistakable baritone of Wonwoo's voice, yelling back, the sound getting louder as he appears. The two of them speak in Korean, you don't understand much of what they're saying, but based off the tuts of her tongue and the way he pleads with her you can tell he's not exactly happy to see you.

"I'm heading out dear, but Wonwoo here will help you," she shoves him towards the register. She gives your hand a light squeeze as she leaves.

The anger must be radiating off you because he speaks with caution.

"Your film is taking a bit to develop, but your camera's ready if you wanted to pick it up now. Or you can come back later-"

Not wanting to dance around each other, you jump the gun.

"What happened? Didn't peg you to be a hit and quit it kind of guy." Your tone is cold and your arms are crossed.

Instead of answering, he backs up and opens the door to the developing lab. Your interest is piqued so you follow him in. The room is pretty dark, save for the red light that helps the film develop. Following Wonwoo, your jaw drops when you make out the image of the hanging negatives. Strung along the room are pictures of you and Seungcheol. Your heart sinks when you realize that these were from last summer, when the two of you took a trip to a small beach town nearby to celebrate your anniversary. The tears begin to pool at the corners of your eyes.

"I can explain," you whisper softly, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice.

"Oh this I've got to hear," you flinch at the his tone. But it doesn't stop you from telling him the truth.

"I swear I didn't know what was on that roll. I wouldn't do something like that." You admit as you finish explaining. You're sniffling by now and swaying on the balls of your feet. When he doesn't immediately respond, you take it as rejection.

Dejected, you start to turn around to find the exit, but you feel his hand cup your cheek. He leans his forehead against yours, the red light reflecting off his glasses, and softly mutters.

"Well, now I feel like a capital A asshole."

You silently giggle and it forces the tears out from your eyes, which he immediately swipes away with his thumb.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. You squeeze the arm that's cupping your cheek in acknowledgement.

"For what it's worth, I do still like you. Honestly seeing these made me jealous that someone else had your heart," he confesses. You couldn't see, but you could tell he was blushing. Remembering the other pictures you'd taken on that trip, it was your turn to blush.

"Have you finished developing all the pictures on the roll?" You ask timidly. You could hear the smirk on his face. Dropping his hand from your face, he takes your hand and leads you to the sink where they held the stop bath. Hanging from a string, fully illuminated by the red light, is a picture of you from behind in a dark colored bikini. At this angle, you looked like Venus herself.

"I gotta say," Wonwoo says from behind you, breath hot against your neck, "this one is my favorite."

"Not mad about this one huh?" You tease, pressing your ass against him. His hands fly to your hips and squeeze. Your pulse quickens and you feel your heartbeat thrum at your core. His hand snakes along your front and grazes your lip, without even asking, you take it into your mouth and suck. You twist around and run your hands along his front, squeezing him through his jeans and he lets out a groan that sounds like music to your ears.

He pulls away from you for just a second and in that second everything stands still.

"You sure about this?"

Grabbing his belt you pull him towards you and kiss him. Everything happens in a frenzy. Your hands fighting to take off each other's clothes. When he wins, he growls at the sight of you wearing nothing underneath. He takes your boobs in his large hands and squeezes, eliciting a moan from you.

"Fuck these look so good in my hands pretty." You whine for him.

The sound conveying a simple message: I need you now.

He gets the hint and flips you around. Pushing you against the counter, he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. Slipping his free hand down your back, he spreads your legs and plays with your wet pussy. He groans at the sensation, which only furthers your desire. You whine once more and start to voice your frustration but then he slams himself to the hilt. The stretch burns deliciously and you find yourself squeezing around him.

"Taking it so good pretty girl, this what you wanted," he taunts and your only response is a high pitched moan. Your sounds spur him on and he pulls you even closer, forcing you to arch even more for him.

You grip the counter for balance with your left hand and the force of Wonwoo makes the pictures along the wall shake. Your right hand is gripping the hand that's splayed across your belly. The angle at which he's pistoning into you, makes white spots dance across your vision.

"Fuck, fuck Wonwoo!" You moan and feel the band in your belly start to tighten up. One of the pictures falls off the wall and it's a picture of you and Seungcheol. Wonwoo crumples it and throws it in a random direction. Somehow this random accident, sets something off in him. Nipping at your ear, he waxes poetic about fucking you so good that you can't think about anything but him and his dick. You thought it was impossible but you get even wetter at his words.

He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of contact. You felt like he was defying time with how quick he spins you around and hoists you onto the counter. Slipping back in with ease, he continues to ram into you. He grips your thighs so forcefully, that you're sure they'll leave marks and this brings you to a higher plane of pleasure. You throw your head back and scream his name.

He grips your neck and angles your head down, forcing you to look at him. In red shadows, you see the raised lines of his veins bulging from the way he's holding you and you can't help but drool. Your pussy gushes and flutters around him. He eggs you on, lacing praise in between kisses. Cocking his head back towards the pictures and utters a line that gets the band in your belly to snap.

"I can't wait to take you there and fuck you so good that you'll never think about anyone else but me at that beach." He says in a register so low and sinister that you can't help but cum around him. As you're riding through your orgasm, you clamp down on him and he lets out a deep guttural groan. Arching into him, you tell him to chase after his own high. By the sounds coming from him, you can tell he's close.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum," he moans into your neck. You tell him to cum on your stomach and he pulls out just in time to spill on your tummy. Your breaths are heavy and your chests are heaving. Pulling out of you with a slick sound, he brings over a tissue to clean you up. The two of you get dressed, giggling as Wonwoo peppers your cheek and neck with kisses.

The reality of your location dawns over the two you at the same time and you break out into laughter. The two of you slip out of the darkroom to see the "OPEN" sign on the door flipped and a note on the counter.

"Closed up for you. Hope you were safe ;) - Grandma"

A squeal comes from you as Wonwoo hangs his head in embarrassment.

"Your camera is actually ready. Did you want to take it home?" He asks sheepishly. You giggle and give him a peck on the cheek.

"Bring it by mine later? I have some pictures I wanna take," you say with a wink as you walk around the counter to leave. Pushing the glass door open, you turn and call out to him.

"Bring my developed film too?" You tease. As you close the door, you hear him yell that you weren't funny. You shake your head and laugh as you make your way home, excited for what else the night could bring the two of you.

Oh, you’re about to be devastatingly mad. You want to throw the trash bin across the pantry, curse at the manager, maybe even consider resigning on the spot.

But did you?

Obviously not. Moment of weakness, as we speak.

Two hours earlier.

…

Work-life balance? Don’t know her.

Your life had been mundane as usual, and honestly, you didn’t mind that. You just wished your corporate life would stop trying to actively ruin it. Ever since the new CEO took over the man who stepped in after his father—you weren’t sure what to think of him. What you did know was that the company had been overworking its employees nonstop.

You wouldn’t even complain if they at least upgraded the cafeteria menu.

The new caterer didn’t seem to care about repeating the same dishes over and over to the point that one of your coworkers ended up with a stomachache. Not to mention the coffee drip machine sucked. Like, genuinely sucked. Thousand-dime company, yet they never bothered to upgrade the damn coffee machine.

No one wanted to drink that brown liquid. You’d rather dehydrate than willingly swallow it.

Since then, most people have started going out for lunch. Some just kept working through it, to the point of developing gastritis or borderline malnutrition.

But not you.

You refused to starve yourself.

Your mother always said: never be stingy with money when it comes to food. Money comes and goes.

That’s what she said.

Nothing beats a home-cooked meal. You’d choose that over takeout any day, unless you were really busy.

Just in time, it was finally lunch.

You had been anticipating this. Your lunch. Your heavenly five-star meal that you poured your whole heart into this morning.

Heck, you didn’t even eat breakfast. Just that cheap black coffee from the café downstairs.

Today’s packed treasure? A hamburg steak with a molten cheese filling in the center, paired with soft, fluffy rice.

You didn’t forget the fiber either broccoli and roasted potatoes to balance the meal. You swore nothing beat homemade meat: freshly ground beef, breadcrumbs, and spices that actually made sense together.

You’d like to think you’re very good at pounding meat.

The mental image of that juicy steak, gravy cascading over the top and soaking into white rice, made your stomach growl loudly.

God, you couldn’t wait to devour the whole thing. It was your self-reward after hours of sitting in your office chair to the point your ass might permanently imprint into it.

Sure, you couldn’t eat it fresh off the stove but at least the microwave here was more competent than the company’s infrastructure.

With a small, happy hum, you walked to the pantry fridge.

Around this time, the shelves were usually emptier. Only one or two transparent containers remained, so spotting yours should’ve been easy, the pink lunchbox. Your trusted Tupperware.

Of course your food deserved the best of the best. Duh.

You picked it up.

And immediately, something felt… off.

There was a sauce stain around the lid. And now that you thought about it somehow felt lighter than it had that morning.

You frowned but didn’t overthink it.

Until you opened it.

Your steak was…

Gone.

Like, all gone.

Your thick, juicy steak. Your fluffy rice. Your vegetables drowned lovingly in gravy.

Vanished.

Your stomach growled again as you blinked down at the empty container.

You weren’t just hungry. You were starving.

A small, devastated wail almost slipped out of you.

How could someone steal another person’s lunch? That was straight-up cruel. There was absolutely no excuse to think someone needed it more than you.

If anything, you needed it the most.

Because you deserved it. After all the prep. The early alarm. The effort.

You inhaled slowly, trying to be rational.

It would be wildly unprofessional for someone from the PR team to crash out over stolen food. So fine. You’d handle this professionally.

You pulled out your phone and speed-dialed HR. It was important to keep essential contacts ready. That’s what Seungkwan always said.

The call connected.

“Hello, this is Hyunsuk from Human Resources,” a flat voice answered. “How may I help you?”

“Hi, Hyunsuk. I’d like to report a theft.”

“Okay,” he replied. “What was stolen?”

You didn’t hesitate. “My lunch.”

There was a brief pause.

“Was it during company hours or on company property?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot compensate for your loss.”

You frowned. “I don’t want compensation, Hyunsuk.”

You swore you could hear him sigh. “An employee’s lunch is considered personal property.”

“Yes, but isn’t it concerning that theft is happening on company grounds?”

“We have cases like this happen very often,” he said. “The company is not responsible for them.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“If you have anything else to report, please send an email,” he cut in. “My lunch break is starting.”

The line went dead.

Hyunsuk hung up.

You stared at your phone in disbelief. “…But my hamburg steak…”

Your eye twitched.

He just said it happens often.

Then do something about it?

“Whatever. Nobody even likes Hyunsuk.”

In fact, you weren’t sure he liked anyone at all.

With nothing else you could do, you begrudgingly poured yourself a lukewarm cup of coffee and returned to your desk with empty stomach, extra caffeine, and a growing vendetta.

The next day, you decided to let it go.

Okay, maybe you were being too forgiving. But hey, you were just hangry yesterday. Surely it was a one-time thing.

Still, the way Hyunsuk said these “theft incidents” happened often baffled you. As if they were normalizing it.

Like, what’s even the function of all those security cameras around the office?

If they can draw a hard line on “no inappropriate office activities,” then surely they can give justice to your stolen lunch too.

Crazy.

The last time people went into the pantry, they literally saw used condoms in the bin. Goodness gracious, as if the toilet didn’t exist. You’d rather not walk past and hear… unwanted noises either.

You did consider writing a company-wide email and CC’ing everyone. After all, who the hell knew who ate your lunch?

You refused to take this as egg-ceptance.

…Maybe not yet.

Despite yesterday’s tragedy, you still brought your lunch today.

After all, you made mapo tofu. And you were not backing down.

How did you make it again?

Oh, right.

Sichuan peppercorns.

While you weren’t a huge fan of overly spicy food, the spice of life played an important role in cooking. You could never forget the nose-numbing aroma of roasted Sichuan pepper. The thick red oil from the fermented bean paste. The firm, bouncy cubes of tofu holding heat so intense it transcended taste buds.

The Mapo Tofu.

You paired it with plain white rice but nothing could overpower the fragrance of chili oil and peppercorns.

It reminded you of that business trip, when Minghao introduced you to mala hotpot and a whole new universe of Chinese spices. You even brought souvenirs back, mostly seasonings to experiment with.

Bless him and his encyclopedic knowledge.

But today’s version?

Different.

Just in case, you doubled the heat. Twice the ground peppercorn. Extra chili flakes. A spice level too powerful for the mortal tongue.

Right before sealing the lid, you sprinkled a little more pepper.

If anyone dared to open your lunch, a red powdery explosion would await them.

Maybe you did this on purpose.

If they stole it again, you hoped their ass would explode in the toilet like that scene in White Chicks.

Serves them right.

…

Lunch break came.

You approached the fridge like a soldier returning to war.

You prayed the thief hadn’t struck again.

But the moment you picked up your Tupperware, the weight or lack of it—felt ominous.

You opened it and found it was already gone.

Again.

Empty.

But how? Why?

First of all, what the fuck? Second of all, who the hell devoured that hellishly spicy mapo tofu? Surely their stomach would declare war soon.

And third…

What. The. Fuck.

Who was this food-crazed glutton?

“…Wait,” you muttered to yourself. “If someone ate my super spicy Sichuan mapo tofu, their lips should be bright red right now!”

You didn’t hesitate.

Within the remaining minutes of your break, you scanned the entire floor like a detective on a mission.

Red lips. Red lips. Red lips.

But to no avail.

Your pepper-kissed burglar was nowhere to be found.

Much to your annoyance, there were simply too many employees in this company. Half of them wore bold red lipstick anyway. You couldn’t tell if it was spice-induced inflammation or just cosmetics.

You didn’t care.

You just wanted the rat-stealing-food burglar.

It was almost time to go home but unfortunately, a major project was in peak season. Several departments had to stay for overtime.

Including yours.

No one liked overtime.

Sure, you got paid. But was it worth it?

Maybe you should start your own business one day. Open a brunch café. Lower stress. Maybe finally use your bachelor’s degree properly.

You sighed.

Seokmin had given you a small box of macarons earlier after seeing the fury on your face but you hadn’t eaten them. You refused to fill your stomach with pity sweets. Too busy drowning in despair and caffeine as you typed aggressively at your keyboard.

The loud clacking and flipping of papers earned you a few glances.

You didn’t care.

Your food had been stolen. Twice.

Why should you care about their peace when they didn’t care about yours?

Fair is fair.

Eventually, you brushed it off and went downstairs to the convenience store before returning to the office. Instant noodles and sausages.

How classic.

You weren’t alone though.

There was a guy sitting a few seats away. Still in work clothes. His blazer hung over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled just above his elbows. He was eating two cups of buldak ramen, the spicy kind.

It reminded you of your Sichuan mapo tofu.

You felt like you were mourning a loss.

And for some reason, you caught a faint scent of pepper clinging to his suit.

Maybe you were imagining it.

People had been avoiding you all day anyway, some even spraying air freshener after you walked past.

Still, you kept glancing at him.

Was it common for two people to coincidentally crave spicy food on the same day? Watching him slurp down two buldak ramens made your stomach twist.

Noticing your stare, he paused.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned to you. “You got some staring problem?”

His voice was deep and calm but the tone carried an edge.

“What?”

“I said,” he continued, face still stoic, cheeks slightly puffed with noodles, “got some staring problem? I know I’m a sight for sore eyes, but didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude?”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Now it was your turn to feel offended.

You almost apologized earlier. Good thing that you didn’t.

This guy is insufferable.

Judging by his face alone, of course he was. The only good thing about him was his face. And unfortunately, the bad thing was also his face. What a waste of something that pretty.

You couldn’t help but hope there was at least one imperfect thing about him. Maybe his personality was rotten. Maybe he snored. Maybe—

Whatever.

You just hoped his dick is ugly. Then again, no dick is ever pretty anyway.

“Rude…” you muttered under your breath before returning to your convenience-store “meal.”

After a while, you finished dinner and headed back into the company building, americano in hand.

And much to your surprise—

The guy was there too.

Walking in the same direction.

For a second, you almost thought he was a creep.

And then came the real disappointment.

He fucking worked here.

You nearly lost it on the spot.

Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? People in this company were either painfully dull, aggressively gray, or casually insufferable. If you were lucky, you’d meet someone with a decent moral compass.

Rare species.

Standing in the same elevator as him didn’t help. You had a talent for meeting the worst people at the worst possible times.

What’s new?

Still, you caught it again.

That scent. It was faint now but familiar.

The lingering peppery aroma. The same one from your stolen mapo tofu.

Okay. Maybe you were slightly unhinged, grieving over lost lunch.

But still.

You sniffed subtly and shifted a little closer.

The man frowned at you like you’d just malfunctioned.

“Hypothetically speaking,” he said flatly, “if you want to fuck me, you could just say so.”

You blinked.

Excuse me?

Oh, you would absolutely fuck him up alright but that was a different story.

He was insufferable. And irritating him suddenly felt therapeutic.

You scoffed and stepped back into your space.

“You have your entire life to be a jerk,” you shot back. “Why not take today off?”

Now it was his turn to look at you properly.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he replied calmly, “but I’m guessing it’s difficult to pronounce.”

Oh, he was annoying.

“If I wanted to hear from an asshole,” you said sweetly, “I’d fart.”

There was a brief silence.

He stared at you.

You stared back.

He genuinely looked like he was calculating whether you were capable of doing it.

The elevator doors slid open.

You stepped out first.

“See you not later, Mr. Hodenkobold.”

He looked like he was about to fire back but the doors closed before he could.

For once, it felt nice to rage-bait someone else.

Especially after your lunch had been stolen.

So you decided.

For the next two days, you were going to catch the rat-stealing-lunch and end this once and for all.

For a brief, dangerous second, you did consider rat poison. But the thought of going to jail?

Absolutely not.

As tempting as it was, you couldn’t risk it. You had a baby to feed back at your studio apartment.

Your cat.

While you were suffering over your stolen gourmet lunches, your cat—Wonton, the name you lovingly gave her, was happily eating premium-grade cat food.

It was unfair. Really.

So you came up with a plan.

This time, you packed a cute bento-themed lunchbox: omelet nori rolls and rice balls.

Except—

They were made of wax.

Yes. Wax.

You followed a YouTube tutorial. Styrofoam base. Acrylic paint for texture. You even added gloss to make it look freshly glazed. Turns out, you had raw talent for this.

It looked absolutely gouda. An egg-cellent fake lunchbox.

You were certain the food stealer was souper hungry right now.

Okay. You really needed to stop hanging out with Seokmin and his endless food puns.

You even added a faint pepper scent to make it smell convincing. Surely no one was dumb enough to fall for fake food.

…Right?

But if they did? It would be hilarious.

…

When you returned at lunch break and opened the lid, you froze.

“….”

There was one—no, two chunks missing.

A bite taken out of the fake omelet.

You blinked.

What kind of unhinged human gluttony was this?

You couldn’t brie-lieve it.

They actually ate the wax.

The next day, you switched tactics.

You made curry fish head, rich curry paste blooming in oil, coconut milk thickening the broth just the way you liked it. You had to thank Minghao again for that Southeast Asia culinary expedition.

This time?

Untouched.

The container was slightly shifted, the lid smudged but the food remained intact.

You assumed the thief wasn’t a seafood fan.

Or maybe allergic.

That theory lasted exactly twenty-four hours.

The following day, you packed creamy rosé pasta with shrimp and clams. Garnished with basil. Sprinkled with oregano. And, of course, little octopus-shaped cocktail sausages.

For insurance, you taped a note to the lid:

🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌ 🇩‌🇴‌ 🇳‌🇴‌🇹‌ 🇹‌🇴‌🇺‌🇨‌🇭‌. 🇮‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇱‌🇱‌ 🇫‌🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌. 🇧‌🇴‌🇳‌ 🇦‌🇵‌🇵‌é🇹‌🇮‌🇹‌, 🇲‌🇫‌.

You stuck it firmly on top of your Tupperware.

Surely this would intimidate them.

Surely.

...

You returned during lunch break and immediately noticed the note had slipped to the floor.

You picked it up.

Your handwriting stared back at you.

And underneath—

🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌ 🇩‌🇴‌ 🇳‌🇴‌🇹‌ 🇹‌🇴‌🇺‌🇨‌🇭‌. 🇮‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇱‌🇱‌ 🇫‌🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌. 🇧‌🇴‌🇳‌ 🇦‌🇵‌🇵‌é🇹‌🇮‌🇹‌, 🇲‌🇫‌. "𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘"

You stared at it in disbelief at the bold, neat handwriting.

Slowly, you lifted the paper then tore it to shreds with your teeth, pure rage simmering in your veins.

The audacity must be on clearance sale.

When you opened the container, your jaw tightened.

Your pasta? Gone. The noodles devoured and the octopus-shaped sausages? Missing.

The shrimp and clams?

Only to be left behind.

Oh.

So they weren’t allergic.

They were picky.

You clenched your jaw, saliva dampening the dry paper as it scraped against your tongue. “Wow. Tasty, indeed,” you mocked under your breath.

This needs to end now.

You honestly need to lock the fuck in this time, to catch that rat-stealing-food burglar. You just hoped they stepped on dog shit today, that both their pillows smelled horrible, and that they’d have the worst fucking nightmare the moment they woke up.

“Hey,” Seokmin approached you with Soonyoung beside him. “Rice to meet you today.” He greeted cheerily, but the moment he noticed your moody face, he faltered. “Okay… berry sorry for that.”

Both of them leaned against the railings beside you. Soonyoung offered you a lollipop. You needed that so much instead of lighting up tobacco, which you’d quit back in your college days.

“Is it about the lunch stealing again?” he asked. “I carrot believe that person’s kept the stealing streak going this far.”

You gave him a look. It seemed like Seokmin had rubbed off on him with all those food puns.

He raised his hands in surrender. “In my defense, I’m feeling saucy today. It’s alright, we can grab dinner after this—my treat, of course.” Soonyoung tried to reassure you, knowing how furious you get when your food gets stolen.

“Yeah, let’s meat up for dinner!” Seokmin chimed in, making you roll your eyes.

Wait.

That’s it.

You have to meet that fucking rat-stealer face to face.

...

This time, you made your well-crafted most scrumptious, katsu sandwich. Cut in halves, three thick slices stacked neatly inside your Chiikawa-pattern container. Minghao had given it to you after his business trip to Japan, and you gladly accepted it since the cartoon was trending everywhere lately.

You liked the yellow rabbit character. It reminded you of yourself because he’s a big back.

Just like you.

Anyway.

You were not about to let your lunch get taken away this time.

And this time, you were going to protect it like it mattered more than your own life. For the sake of your health insurance, you tried not to pounce on that food burglar.

You were not about to let your money, sweat, and time go to waste again.

Now that you think about it, you probably should’ve shown up ten minutes earlier before catching the culprit.

Standing from your seat, you headed toward the office pantry and peeked inside.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Someone was hunching over the fridge, hand hovering over the transparent containers then toward your Chiikawa lunchbox.

“Hm, this is new…” he murmured. “…and tacky.”

Excuse me?

You weren’t about to back down when someone literally mocked your precious lunchbox pattern. So what? You liked when your mom packed your food in a Hello Kitty container with those little fruit picks shaped like cat ears.

You cleared your throat to catch his attention. He jumped slightly, straightening up.

“Isn’t it too early for lunch break?” you asked, slowly approaching him, arms crossed.

He blinked.

It was the same four-eyed dude who inhaled two fire spicy bowl ramens the other day. You almost scoffed.

“You again,” he echoed. “And who are you?”

He still stood there, relaxed like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

“Me?” you repeated nonchalantly. “I’m not that important. Rather, why don’t we start with you, buddy.”

He looked like he didn’t want to continue this conversation. Probably hoping you’d leave.

Fine.

You indulged him for a moment and gave your name. When he finally replied, you learned his.

Jeon fucking Wonwoo.

You plastered a smile on your face. He turned away, ignoring you. The two of you just stood there for a few tense seconds.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asked, sounding impatient.

“How’s that coffee?” you shot back, blatantly ignoring his question.

Wonwoo frowned, more like bristled at it, as if offended.

“Why would I drink that slimy brown liquid?” he said. “Don’t tell me… you drink that thing?”

“It’s not that bad,” you shrugged.

(It absolutely sucks.)

He chuckled, clearly mocking you. “You sound like you hate yourself.”

Oh, he’s so cocky.

Three days. Three days you’ve suffered because of this stealing bitch.

“Actually…” you stepped closer. “What did you do these past few days?”

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Why? It’s a workweek. What else would I be doing?”

You weren’t buying it. “Do you always come to the pantry this often?”

“…I mean, I have to eat,” he replied like it was obvious. “Of course I come here.”

“Wow, me too!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “I have an idea—why don’t we eat together then?”

That made him falter.

He suddenly looked uneasy at your smile. Like you were plotting something.

“…No, thank you. I prefer eating alone. Now can you leave?”

“Why not?” You stepped closer, almost chest to chest even though he was much taller.

He stiffened but tried to maintain composure, clearing his throat before a grin slowly spread across his face.

“I see. If you wanted me so much, you shouldn’t have thrown yourself at me like that,” he chuckled lowly, eyes dragging down your figure. “All you had to do was ask.”

Your smile dropped instantly and stepped back.

You wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face. That smug look made you want to chop off all his limbs.

“Oh, don’t lose that smile,” he tutted. “I’d rather think that mouth could do better. Maybe you’d be my cup of tea. Either way, it’s cheesed to meet you, Miss ____.”

Hell nah.

You were not backing down either.

Smiling sweetly, you replied, “You know what else my mouth could do, Mr. Jeon?”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Hurt your feelings. I think dildo is a perfectly acceptable insult. I’d call you a dick—but you’re not real enough.”

That caught him off guard.

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

For the first time, Jeon Wonwoo didn’t know what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” you smiled. “Or maybe my words are true—your dick isn’t that real.”

His eyes darkened as he stepped forward.

“Watch it. Say that again and I’ll put that mouth to good use.”

And then—

A sudden loud gasp from behind.

Both of you turned toward the doorway to see Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung frozen in place, hands dramatically covering their mouths.

“You heard that, guys?!” Seungkwan gasped. “What the fudge—she was about to get dicked down!”

Seokmin clutched Soonyoung’s arm. “Look at them pudding up against each other! They’re both nuts!”

“That’s tea-rrific,” Soonyoung added, “but whisk I’m willing to take for a pear like this!”

“GET OUT OF HERE!” you and Wonwoo barked simultaneously.

In the end, you shared your katsu sandwich with him.

Somehow, it turned into a mutual rant session about Hyunsuk. No one likes him anyway. Glad you’re both on the same boat.

He ended up taking you to dine at a downtown French bistro. Claimed it was “compensation.” Not that you were entirely forgiving about it.

You learned he works in the legal department. Recently promoted. Employee of the Month. Overworked to death.

“So, do you not have a life then?” you asked, noticing he’d loosened two buttons of his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up.

He’s handsome.

Annoyingly attractive.

If only he’d shut up.

But again, no attractive person should be forgiven for food stealing. Especially your lunch.

“I did,” he said, sipping his wine. “Until they put me to work.”

You nodded slowly. Then circled back.

“You could’ve just ordered takeaway. Why my lunch?”

He grinned, leaning back. “Why? Your lunch, of course. Yours is the best I’ve tasted so far.”

The audacity.

Rich in audacity. Poor manners.

“So… what would you like to order?” the waiter asked.

“Right. Food.” Wonwoo skimmed the menu.

“What do you recommend?” you asked.

He hummed, closing the menu and looking directly at you. “Anything that tastes good.”

Your throat dried slightly. Maybe you’re imagining things.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Meat.”

Silence.

“…Okay. I’ll just get ratatouille.”

“But that’s all vegetables.”

“Shut up, meathead.”

The waiter coughed. “How cooked would you like your steak, sir?”

Wonwoo was still looking at you.

“Make it medium rare. And make it two,” you smiled. “I’d like a piece of meat too.”

The waiter jolted and left immediately.

“How long have you been stealing?” you circled back.

He sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean to do that—well, that was until I met you.”

“M-me?”

“Your lunch.”

Oh.

“I don’t like takeaways. I used to live with my roommate, Mingyu. He cooked for both of us until I moved into my own apartment,” he said. “And I can’t cook for shit.”

“Can tell,” you replied smoothly. “Your personality is probably as shitty as your cooking.”

He glared.

You smiled.

“Watch that,” he warned. “I’m definitely putting that smart mouth to good use—”

“Shut up. Save it for later. I’m not riding that fake dick.”

“…”

Silence.

You took a sip of wine, scanning the dim lights of the restaurant. Fine dining. Expensive plates. His salary was probably double yours anyway.

“Here’s the deal,” you said. “Stop eating my lunch. That’s it.”

He considered. “Fine. I’ll pay for your groceries. How about that?”

“Nah.”

Wonwoo frowned, fingers lacing together. “Okay, I’m sorry. But I really don’t like the dripping coffee machine. And the cafeteria sucks. And I hate that the caterer keeps slipping her phone number onto my tray.”

“All I ate were ham and cream cheese bagels,” he continued. “Depressing, I know.”

You raised a brow, unimpressed. “Why not? For an attention whore like you, I thought you’d enjoy it.”

“She’s married. With five kids.”

“….”

Okay. Fair enough.

“Alright,” you sighed. “I’ll bite.”

His eyes lit up.

He almost reached across the table, close to your hand then thought better of it and grabbed the napkins instead.

“Can I go to your place after this?” he asked suddenly.

You nearly choked on your wine. “Excuse me? Aren’t we going too fast?”

“To inspect your goods,” he deadpanned. “Your fridge.”

Yeah.

He’s definitely messing with you.

You did let him come back to your studio apartment, after all the groceries were paid for by him, of course. In return, you taught him how to make the katsu sandwich he’d been annoyingly edging about all night.

And yes, it turns out he really doesn’t like seafood. Wonwoo said it upsets his stomach, and once was enough for him to swear it off forever.

You set the groceries aside just as your cat greeted you, weaving around your ankles while you washed your hands, Wonwoo hovering awkwardly behind you.

Your place was cozy. Very you, he thought.

“Who’s this little companion?” he asked, crouching down to pet your white Persian cat. “Got a name?” He glanced up at you, finally noticing the frilly apron you were wearing.

“Wonton,” you said, peeling onions as you passed him another apron, this one reading Kiss the Cook.

He slipped it over his head without complaint. “That’s funny. Do you have a food phase or something?”

Now that you thought about it… yeah. 

“Yeah. I got dumpling takeaway that night, and she was inside the box when she was still a kitten. So I named her Wonton.”

The rest of the time, you walked him through each step carefully.

“So,” he said casually, “how often do you pound the meat?”

Silence.

You looked up.

He looked back, utterly oblivious. “The fried chicken sandwich yesterday was delectable.”

“Not much,” you muttered, going back to chopping potatoes. “Other than salty food—do you like sweets?”

He hummed while dipping the meat into egg batter and breadcrumbs. “Not really to be exact. I had it during a business trip in Europe. I don’t remember what it’s called. Something like… quickie?”

Your knife froze mid-chop.

“…Quiche,” you corrected. “It’s called quiche, Wonwoo.”

His face lit up, nodding like he’d just learned a new word.

For a moment, you wondered if he was messing with you but the genuine reaction told you otherwise.

“Are you messing with me?”

He blinked. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t push it. It was pointless.

“Why can’t you cook?” you asked instead, lowering the coated meat into hot oil.

“Well, there’s this thing called ‘I just don’t,’” he said. “I once almost ate half-burnt scrambled eggs and decided never again.”

You scoffed. “It costs nothing to be kind with your words, you know.”

“Some days it costs me my fucking sanity, honey,” he shot back, eyes sharp.

Which would’ve been intimidating if he weren’t wearing that Kiss the Cook apron.

Your mom was right. There’s nothing romantic about cooking together. Move the fuck away.

“You know what?” you said. “Let’s split up to cover more ground. I’ll go left, and you go fuck yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he grinned. “Just don’t ogle me when I pound my meat. I’d know myself for the whole course of the meal.”

He’s so hot. If only he shut up.

“Calling yourself a meal when you’ve had an STD?” you said, setting the fried cutlet aside. “Okay, food poisoning.”

He frowned. “I’d have you know I’m very healthy and clean. So you’re safe.”

“No one said I’d fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly,” you replied. “But after we finish this, I’ll have my way with you later.”

“…..”

“So,” he said, scanning your apartment. “You live like this while working at a million-dollar company?”

“I live alone,” you shrugged, cutting the sandwich in half and handing it to him. “No reason for a big place. I do need a spacious kitchen, though.”

He nodded, biting into it. “Fair. What about a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have time for that.”

“It’s alright,” you added. “At least I get to rest on weekends. What about you? Hobbies?”

He hummed. “I dissociate. I play games. And lately, my bed is the only thing calling me.”

“Oh,” you said. “Then… hookups?”

He leaned closer, smirking. “Are you offering?”

“Hell no,” you said immediately. “I don’t have the energy.”

“For what?”

You gestured at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Half of your personality is just symptoms.”

“Your mom.”

“My mom passed away four years ago,” he said simply.

Well. That rhymed.

Silence stretched between you.

You swallowed. “…Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” he said, finishing his sandwich. “It’s been a while. I still miss her.”

Another quiet beat.

“So…” you said carefully, “wanna catch up on Bridgerton?”

...

That night, you both sat on the couch with a noticeable gap between you, a cushion clutched to your chest like a shield.

The room was dim, lit only by the TV. Surprisingly, he was fully invested in Bridgerton. What was supposed to be one episode turned into a full marathon.

For some reason, it felt intimate.

Jeon Wonwoo, your coworker. The man who stole your lunch for a week. Also, the cause of your suffering.

Insufferable. Infuriating. Hot as fuck.

It would be a lie to say you’d never found him attractive. Well, except for that foul mouth. Not that you were any better.

The problem with this show was the sex scenes.

You’d completely forgotten how many there were.

Every time one came on, you felt the urge to skip it but Wonwoo didn’t move. He watched with the same unreadable expression, completely composed like poker-faced.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking inside his head.

Another scene started.

Just great.

You were very aware of how you shifted slightly, how your fingers tightened around the cushion, how your knees pressed together. The small breath you exhaled without meaning to.

The couch shifted.

He turned his head toward you.

He definitely noticed and yet, he said nothing. That somehow made it worse.

Because he remembered the way you talked to him.

The insults. The degradation. The way you never backed down.

Fuck.

Maybe that’s what did it.

Maybe Jeon Wonwoo was turned on by the way you spoke to him like you weren’t afraid.

“Do you want to make out and make noises?” he asked suddenly, looking at you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked.

For a moment, your brain short-circuited.

Then you thought: when else are you going to get the chance to make out with a disgustingly attractive man like this?

Exactly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you muttered, dropping the cushion before swinging a leg over his lap.

“Hell yeah,” he breathed.

His hands found your hips instantly.

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It was messy. Almost clumsy at first, teeth knocking, breaths uneven but it quickly deepened. His mouth moved slowly against yours, deliberate now. One hand slid up to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, holding you there.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth without meaning to.

Your body pressed closer.

He let out a low groan, restrained but it vibrated against your lips. You could feel his hardness pressed against yours, and it’s big.

When his tongue brushed yours, it wasn’t rushed. It was slow and intentional. Like he was testing how much you’d let him have.

You were already giving too much.

Time blurred.

When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to breathe. A thin string of saliva caught in the dim light before breaking.

He looked up at you, and whatever was in his eyes now wasn’t smugness.

It was hunger.

Like he hadn’t had enough.

His head leaned closer until the tip of his nose brushed yours as he murmured, “…I want you,” he breathed. “Please. I need to have you tonight.”

Your heart pounded at the sound of his voice. The way his ragged breath fanned against your lips.

His hand wandered, softly caressing your back before sliding lower to grip your ass, making you jump slightly.

He grinned at your reaction. “Is that a yes?” he chuckled lowly, squeezing more firmly this time, drawing a gasp from you as your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders.

“Cute,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your lips before looking up at you again. “…I need that pretty mouth of yours working now, since you’ve been such a smartass with me the whole time.”

Something about his piercing gaze made the heat pool low in your stomach. God, his commanding voice alone was enough to make you melt like chocolate left out too long under the sun.

You’re not a masochist, of course.

His thumb traced slowly over your lips before pressing gently, parting them as he slid the pad of his thumb just inside. His voice dropped.

“Get on your knees. Now.”

Did you listen? Hell yeah.

“Normally, I wouldn’t get on my knees for a man, but here I am,” you muttered as you moved between his thighs, while he spread his legs slightly, working at his belt and the sleek pants he’d worn earlier to dinner.

“I’m flattered to be the first man,” he chuckled. You could see the damp, slight pre-cum stain against his boxer. Then pulling the underwear down to reveal his shaft.

Giving a few pumps as he strokes his dick, groaning as his head goes over the couch. “Fuck, now go make use of that pretty mouth, baby.”

You breathe out, seeing that shafts make you hesitate a bit. Okay, that was a real dick; you take that back for insulting and calling his stupid dick fake.

Slowly wrapping your delicate hands around his shaft, you glance up to see his head thrown over the couch as you give a kiss on the tip of his cockhead.

His breath hitched as he watched you kneel between his legs, those soft  eyes looking up at him with a mix of nervousness and determination. The sight alone made his cock throb harder in your gentle grip.

"Fuck..." he breathed out, his head tilting back against the couch cushion as he felt your lips brush against his sensitive tip.

His fingers instinctively tangled in your long wavy brown hair, not pulling but just... holding on. Grounding himself. The way your hands wrapped around his shaft made him stroke himself slower, more deliberately, letting you set the pace.

"You're so fucking pretty like this," he murmured, his voice rough and low as he watched your every move. "But you know what... I don't want your hands right now."

He gently guided your head down, his cock pressing against your lips as he guided you to take him in. Not all at once, he didn't want to make you gag or feel uncomfortable. Just... enough to feel you.

"Mmm... that's it," he groaned softly, his other hand moving to cup the back of your head possessively. "Use that pretty mouth of yours now. I want to hear from you."

His hips gave a subtle thrust, not demanding but encouraging. His eyes stayed locked on you, watching the way your lips stretched around him, the wet sounds filling the room.

"Christ... you're incredible," he breathed, his thumb stroking along your jawline tenderly despite the rough situation.

You stiffen slightly, feeling his whole length around your mouth. Slowly making your jaw work as you bobbed your head, sucking him good.

He stopped you mid-blowjob, pulling you up by your waist with surprising strength. The way you were panting, lips swollen from worshipping his cock, made him nearly lose control entirely.

"Fuck... you look so good like this," he growled, his voice strained as he guided you toward the bed.

Setting you down gently on the mattress, he immediately followed, positioning himself between your thighs. His hands pushed your skirt up slowly, deliberately, savoring how exposed you were for him.

"Shit…" he breathed, his eyes darkening as he stared at your glistening core. "So fucking wet for me already."

Without hesitation, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his tongue immediately seeking out your clit. The taste of you made him groan against your sensitive flesh.

"Mmm... fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate circles. "Let me eat you properly before I take you."

His fingers gripped your thighs gently but firmly, spreading you wider as he feasted on you with renewed focus, determined to make you come on his tongue first.

You gasped sharply, your palm flying to your mouth, feeling his mouth dive in like a starved man. He knows exactly what you need to push you over the edge. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. 

He laughs against your core, feeling your fingers tangle in his hair. It made him groan with satisfaction. The way your body trembled beneath his mouth, your gasps growing louder.

It was fucking intoxicating.

He continues to lap on your cunt, wanting you to come undone by his tongue. He could feel you’re coming close as he works closer and closer to the edge. His fingers thrust in and out of you, over and over again.

“Fuck— you’re so close already,” he murmured against your soaked folds, his tongue working faster now. “Let go baby, let me taste it.”

You could feel your orgasm coming closer as he kept pumping into you. When you finally came, his fingers still pumping inside you, he felt your walls clench around him rhythmically. The sight of you completely undone, head thrown back as pleasure washed over you— it made him nearly lose control too.

You swore you almost saw stars and later, he was going to make you see the entire fucking galaxy once he was inside you.

“God, you look so beautiful like this,” he breathed, slowly pulling his fingers out of you with a soft, wet sound. “So fucking beautiful when you let go.”

You gave him a weak tap, blinking as you tried to catch your breath. God, you hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Or maybe no one had ever made you feel this good.

“Hold up—” you breathed meekly. “Let me… catch my… fucking hell…”

It was embarrassing to let him see you like this. Kind of pathetic, honestly, to get so worked up just from being eaten out.

Wonwoo chuckled, settling himself between your thighs as he looked down at you, almost menacingly. “Take your time, sweet pea. I’m not done with you yet.”

Then, surprisingly, he said something reasonable. “Just to make sure—give me a safe word.”

You blinked, finally propping yourself up on your elbows against the mattress as you considered it.

“Strawberry,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Make it shorter. Do you think you can say that before I pound you like dough?”

You huffed. “Cherry, then.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned in to kiss you again but stopped midway. “I don’t have condoms, though…”

And you weren’t on pills. You couldn’t blame him. No one had expected this to happen.

You checked the drawer beside your bed. It had probably been sitting there for two years, back when you never expected there’d be a man in your life again.

When you handed it to him, he bristled, letting out a laugh and flashing a cocky grin. “This isn’t my size, sugarplum. It’s alright—I’ll pull out immediately,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple then running his hands along your curves possessively.

He sheathed himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, yet something raw, almost vulnerable flickered across his expression.

“I’m clean,” he murmured, his voice more serious now. “And I’ve never done this without protection before. So… yeah.” His gaze softened just slightly. “I’m trusting you, too.”

You let out a small whimper, feeling himself positioned at your entrance, his cock pressing against your wet heat. His thumbs framed your face, cradling it gently.

“Tell me you want this,” he said softly, eyes searching yours. “Tell me you want me inside you bare.” His hips gave a small thrust, just teasing waiting for your answer.

Almost cussing out at him for purposely made you feel this way, you breathe out almost pleadingly despite your bite. “...you asshole, stop playing—” you sharply inhaled when he thrusted his cock inside you.

He felt you gasp as he pushed inside, his cock stretching you open slowly. 

Fucking hell.

The way you clenched around him immediately made him grit his teeth, might as well come inside you at this point.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, his hands moving to grip your hips. “So tight…fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He didn’t slam in, he took his time, letting you adjust to him. The way your walls squeezed him rhythmically was almost too much, but he forced himself to stay controlled.

And you—you never felt so fucking amazing right now. You think you might ascend to heaven. Eyes rolling over with your grip tightens on the sheets.

“Still with me, sweet pea?” he asked, voice strained as he hilted himself completely inside you.

You nodded slowly at him, murmured softly, “...yeah…you can move faster now.”

His fingers dug into your skin slightly, not quite bruising but definitely holding on tight. Breath hitched when you finally gave him permission, that single nod making his control slip dangerously. The way your walls were already clenching around him was driving him insane.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed out, hips already starting to move. He pulled back slowly, feeling every inch of you squeeze around him then thrust forward with more purpose. The wet sounds of your tangled bodies filled the room.

Your poor cat, Wonton, is already scurrying away somewhere.

He could feel your body trembling beneath him, and it made something possessive ignite in him. He wanted every gasp, every moan and every shudder of pleasure entirely for himself.

His thrusts became faster, more desperate as his breath came in harsh pants against your neck. “Tell me how it feels,” he demanded softly, one hand moving to cup your chin, fracking you to look at him. "Tell me when you’re close.”

His cock throbbed inside you, pre-cum leaking out but he was determined to make this last. To make you feel as good as you made him feel earlier with that perfect, needy mouth.

“You’re killing me,” he admitted breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours. “But I’m not pulling out until I see you completely destroyed…”

...on my cock.” you heard him finished, his voice thick with need.

God, you can’t even talk properly with him. Did he just fucked you this good?

His hips snapped against yours, making you gasp. The change in rhythm was almost punishing— harder, faster and deeper. Each thrust he gave, sent pleasure spiraling through your waves, making your toes curl and your visions blur.

“Fuck…fuck— Wonwoo! You cried out, back arching off the bed slightly as he drove into you relentlessly.

One of his hands moved from your hip to your hair, fisting it rough;y and tilting your head back. His lips crashed against yours in a desperate, messy kiss that tasted like desperation and need.

“Say my name while I fuck you.” He demanded between kisses, his other hand moving to your throat, just barely pressing, not choking but claiming.

“Wonwoo!” you sobbed into the kiss, voice breaking.

It was all too much. His mouth on yours, hands on you and the way he was fucking you like he wanted to imprint himself on your very soul. Your orgasm built faster than you could handle, climbing higher and higher until you were breathless and dizzy.

“I’m—oh god— I’m—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your inner walls clamping down around him.

He felt you come, your body shaking and clenching around his cock, and it was his undoing. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside then immediately pulled out as he promised. His remains spilled on your stomach, giving a few last pumps as he stays there.

“Fuck… fuck…” he breathed against your neck, his body collapsing onto yours as aftershocks rippled through both of you.

You stayed like that for a while, limbs tangled, your body slowly growing heavy with exhaustion.

But goddamn. That was the best sex you’d ever had.

(You’d only had, like, two back in school, but whatever.)

Just when you thought he was finished, he lifted his head and looked down at you before finally shrugging off the dress shirt that had been hanging open. He pulled it over his broad shoulders, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the lean muscle beneath.

God, you silently thanked the heavens for giving you an asshole that looked like him.

Grinning cockily, he hovered over you, his voice dropping into a husky murmur. “Oh, I’m not done yet, honeybun. That was just the appetizer. We still have the full course and dessert.”

Okay, maybe you should’ve bought the condoms and pills when you were grocery shopping with him.

“Now strip bare before I devour you for real.” He smacked your ass and squeezed, making you yelp.

The rest was history.

The next morning. Thank heavens it was Saturday. You would not have survived this if it were Monday and a workweek.

You fumbled beneath the comforter, still half-asleep. Then it hit you.

You’d been dicked down by the most insufferable, food-thieving man alive.

Slowly, you sat up, immediately feeling the soreness between your thighs.

Thanks a lot to that bastard for bottoming you out so good.

And you loved every single second of it.

Noticing the empty space beside you, your gaze drifted across the room—only to find him in nothing but his boxers, crouched beside Wonton, your cat. It looked like he’d already fed her.

Wow.

The sight of him watching your cat eat was almost… innocent.

Was that really the same person who pounded you like a beast last night?

Whatever.

You looked down and realized you were wearing his dress shirt. He probably cleaned you up before you passed out.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you shuffled toward the kitchen. You were starving, might as well whip something up.

He noticed you rummaging through the fridge and followed after you.

“Morning,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist as you worked at the counter. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Me,” you joked.

He immediately groped your chest, making you yelp as you slapped his hands away.

He didn’t look sorry at all. “You said it. I’m just taking what I want,” he grinned against your ear, pressing a soft kiss there.

“Let’s get married,” he suddenly said. “I need you for a lifetime.”

You hummed thoughtfully while whisking the pancake batter. “For what? The food or the sex?”

“Both,” he confirmed easily. “I already paid for the groceries. I’m basically your wallet at this point. Marry me and you get both—my dick and my money.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

His arms tightened around you as he added, “Then I can finally fuck you without using those damn condoms and pills.”

That made you turn to look at him, eyebrow raised as he flashed that stupidly annoying grin.

“Was that a threat?”

“A promise,” he corrected. “We’d make a great pear. And I wouldn’t mind putting a few little peanuts in you.”

He nuzzled your nape like an oversized cat.

You stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” he said smoothly. “I’m nuts for you, sweetie pie.”

Since that day, you kept seeing Wonwoo during lunch breaks at work.

With a price, of course. The lunch arrangement.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but notice the change in his personality. Well… he’d been a lot nicer lately.

And it scared the shit out of you.

You’d rather have him insufferable as always, wearing that stupid cocky grin.

Okay, maybe not. That was too annoying. You weren’t sure you could restrain your fist from connecting with his majestic face.

“Have you been sitting in all that sugar you bake with? Because you’ve got a sweet butt,” Wonwoo suddenly said.

A loud crash echoed through the kitchen as you dropped the baking tray in your hands, staring at him in horror.

Noticing your mortified expression, he took a step back. “Sorry. Too forward?”

He’d been crashing at your place again, insisting on driving you home as an excuse to spend more time together.

“Have you been laying in sugar, sweetheart?” he tried again. “Because you’re looking pretty sweet. Is that better?” he asked, almost apologetically.

You honestly didn’t know what to say, setting the meatloaf aside.

“I mean…” you started slowly, “…you always smack my ass whenever you get the chance, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it when I’m about to get into the passenger seat.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I think all of you are sweet, really.” Then he added, “I can tell your parents were bakers—they’d have to be to make a cutie pie like you.”

You blinked, finally turning to look at him. “…Well, my mom was a baker. And my brother owns a café, so yeah. Technically.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, momentarily dropping the act. “Why didn’t I know that?”

“You never asked,” you replied simply, waving him off. “By the way, what’s with all these cheesy pick-up lines? Where did you even learn them?”

Completely ignoring your question, he continued, “Are you bread? Because you’re the loaf of my life.”

Your lips twitched. “Okay, now you’re up to something. Did you lose a bet?”

“I think I’ve got cavities, because you’re too sweet.”

You chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter in your pink frilly apron. “If you’re trying to seduce me into baking cookies, you could’ve just asked.”

“I don’t know about cookies,” he shot back smoothly, “but you and I would bake a great couple.”

Your smile widened as you pushed off the counter and slowly walked toward him. “Oh? Is that what you think?”

He audibly gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you approach.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he continued weakly. “Because you’re hot.”

You let out a soft giggle, stopping in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know if I’m scared of you or attracted to you.”

His hands naturally found your waist. “Marry me, please. Let me be your husband. I’ll take care of you… and our little peanut. Soon.” He nuzzled into your neck.

Smiling, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, Won,” you murmured, “if you want something sweet, there’s plenty of sugar right here.”

You tapped your lips playfully. He didn’t hesitate before pressing his mouth to yours.

A moment later, you both pulled back, laughing and giggling like idiots, foreheads resting against each other.

“By the way,” you asked softly, “where did you even learn those pick-up lines?”

He paused, thinking for a second.

“Jeonghan,” he said simply.

Ah.

Of course.

You never liked him. Same department as Wonwoo…just more obnoxious.

He definitely put him up to this on purpose.

One thing you actually learned from your mother's advice that surprisingly worked was that the fastest way into a man’s heart was through his stomach.

Turns out, he stopped stealing your food. He found something sweeter to keep instead.

FIN.

A/N: once again, thanks a lot for staying until the end, apples!! finally we've come to the end. if you're interested in more of my fics, feel free to check my page and my masterlist, if any of you guys are interested include in my taglist, feel free to sign in the form link.

feedbacks and comments are appreciated!! (for future purposes, so that i will improve my writings more.)

THE UNLUCKIEST MAN AND HIS LUCKY CHARM

In the bustling city in the height of 1921, you were considered to be the prize many men sought after. The eldest daughter, the golden child of the richest family in New York City. You not only brought a social status, you brought what was believed to be generational wealth with you. Your father’s means of making money have been connected to the dark underbelly of the city. Your father is the richest, and the most feared man in the whole city.

Your whole life you were raised with the intention of being nothing more than a trophy wife. Something for your future husband to show off. This never sat right with you. You dream of a life away from all of this. You dream of truly living your own life. You're hopeful maybe one day you can find true love.

Life hasn’t always been easy for Jeon Wonwoo. He’s been struggling to get by for as long as he can remember. He thought once he graduated and started his career things would be easier. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case, he still feels as if he’s drowning out in the freezing cold Atlantic Ocean.

He spends his days on the university campus teaching, making just enough to get by. His debt started to grow massively after he got sick during college. A bad case of influenza left him out of work struggling to get by. He started gambling to make some money, but it didn't work. He thought he made friends in high places when a man offered to loan him money. That man ended up being one of the higher up men who work for the richest man in the city, your father. The loan was never an act of kindness, it was just as a power play. Your father was known to pray on people in need. He would offer them loans to make the pawns.

One night coming home from work he ran into the man he owed money to. Wonwoo that night finds himself in a position he feared he would end up in. Tied to an expensive leather chair, he’s been beaten with in an inch of his life. The man who controls the city is standing in front of him. He's given an offer he can't turn down.

From that moment on everything changed, not only for him but for you.

-

It's a week after he's been offered life line. He's awoke at five in the morning by your father's goons. Wonwoo is dragged to your family's home to tell you about your impending marriage. His bruising has started to fade. He's left with a light water color of yellows and greens around his eyes. Luckily his glasses help hide it a little. He can't bury the feeling of shame eating away at him.

Early in the morning you're awoken to commotion downstairs.

Crawling out of bed you grab your silk robe. Wrapping it around your body you head down the hallway. You hear more commotion and yelling. Your mother meets you at the top of the stairs. She grabs your hand stopping you. “It’s your father. Please just agree to anything he asks you to do.” What on earth could your father possibly ask you to do at barely six in the morning? “Darling, I just spoke to him. Please don’t fight with him.” Knitting your brows together, you have no clue what is going on.

Practically running down the stairs you find your father and his men in the foyer. The dim light of the chandelier above casting a shadow down on them.

Your bare feet pad down the stairs. You're greeted to the sight of not only your father and his men, but a man you've never seen before. He's clearly sporting two black eyes that are healing and a busted lip.

"Father?"

Your father turns to you, giving you a wicked grin. Your stomach flips, feeling instantly nervous. "Darling, say hello to professor Jeon Wonwoo your soon to be husband."

You knew this day would come. One day your father was going to set you up to marry someone. You thought maybe deep down inside you would have a say in who you married.

"Why him?"

"Because my darling daughter, if you marry him, I will have full control over both of you." You're instantly reminded how evil your father can truly be.

The moment both your eyes lock, you know you must protect each other. He looks just as scared as you are.

"Jack prep the townhouse on fourth street for the soon to newlyweds."

Wonwoo doesn't say anything, he just silently stares at you with a look of sorrow in his eyes. No matter how hard you try you can't stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

"You'll be married in two weeks. You'll move into the townhouse together."

Your father leaves taking his men with him. You're left standing there with the man you're supposed to marry. Reaching up you push away your tears. You want to be mad and blame him, but you can't be. You know he truly had no say in this. He looks just as terrified as you.

A sob breaks in your chest. You fall to the overwhelmed. Silently Wonwoo scrambles over to you. He drops down to his knees in front of you. He hesitates for a moment, before resting his hand on your cheek. Slowly he drags his thumb across the delicate skin of your cheek. Pushing away your tears.

"I'm sorry," you cry.

"This is my fault. You shouldn't be sorry," this is the first time you've heard him speak. His deep voice is soothing.

"Why did he pick you?" You need to know what he's done, so you can try and protect him.

"I owe your father a lot of money."

You push yourself up a little. Looking at him, you try to study his face. He's extremely handsome, even if he is covered in bruises and a busted lip. You can't help but wonder what a professor did to be in debt to your father.

"I'm _____, but a lot of people call me lucky. My mother says it's because I'm a good luck charm."

A smile tugs at his lips. Mindlessly he drags his thumb across you cheek. "I'm going to need a lucky charm."

"Wonwoo, we're a team now. There is no way out of this. We have to get married, but just know I'll be loyal to you."

He knits his brows together. "Loyal?"

"Yes, I'll protect you from my father. Just promise me, you'll try and learn to love me."

Silently he blinks at you a few times, processing your statement. "I will."

A DIAMOND RING AND SADNESS

The wedding your father planned for you is being held in ritzy hotel in the heart of the city. Your vows will be exchanged in ballroom, and the other will host a lavish reception.

When you were younger you always imagined your wedding. You assumed you would walk down the aisle and find the man of your dreams standing there waiting for you. Turns out in the end there stands a man you've known for only two weeks.

Wonwoo is the definition of handsome, and he seems like a great man, but you don't love him, and he doesn't love you. He doesn't even really know you.

Everything about your wedding feels like a blur. The wedding is considered to be the event of the decade. All richest and most elite people are in attendance.

You're dressed in a very elborate white beaded dress. Adorning a long white veil. You've cried more today then you have in your whole life. You manage to gather yourself as your repeat your vows to Wonwoo.

Your eyes stay focused on Wonwoo, trying to tune out the sea of people watching you. Everything feels numb, this is suppose to be the happiest day of your life, and you feel nothing.

"I pronounce you husband and wife." A tear slides down your cheek. Without even thinking Wonwoo reaches out, resting his hand on your cheek. He slowly brushes away your tear as the priest says, "you may now kiss the bride."

Everything feels silent, the whole room feels as if the oxygen has been sucked out. Wonwoo is completely still. He's just silently staring at you, almost as if he's asking for permission. Your lips part slightly, taking in a small breath. He leans in a little closer. This feels like a like a lifetime, when in all reality maybe thirty seconds has passed.

Closing your eyes he leans in all the way. Your lips touch for the first time, and this isn't some spark filled moment. It's just a moment between two sad people fighting for their lives, and trying their hardest to protect each other.

Pulling away his hand still lingers on your cheek. The room erupts into deafening cheers, but you can openly focus on the man staring back at you.

Taking your hand he turns you both so you're facing the crowd. There in the front row is your father's menacing presences. He watches both you and Wonwoo with a calculated look. Wonwoo squeezes your hand capturing your attention. He leads you down the aisle. Everyone cheers and claps applauding what they think is a happily newly wed couple.

The moment you're out of the ballroom, he pulls you off to the dressing room you got ready in. He never lets go of your hand. He locks the door and you both stand there for a moment, just silently staring at each other. Without even thinking you throw yourself into him. Your wraps your arms around his waist and cling to him.

Your chest shake, as a sob threatens to break. "It's okay." He says softly, his hand running up and down your back, helping to soothe you.

"I'm sorry." You cry.

"You don't need to be sorry, I'm sorry, lucky." Him calling you lucky, makes you smile, even while you're crying.

"It's almost over." He whispers.

"It's not though, we still have the reception."

There is a pounding on the door. Pulling away from Wonwoo you look at the door. "Mr and Mrs. Jeon, you're being called." You here the familiar voice of one of your fathers men, Tae.

"Mrs. Jeon?" You repeat loud enough for just the two of you to hear.

"I'm sorry." He's said this so many times since that early morning you met.

"Enough, we can't keep apologizing." You pull away from him. You brush the front of your bead encrusted dress.

His brows knit together. He pulls his wired frame cheaters off. You watch him silently for a moment.

There is another knock on the door. "One moment," Wonwoo yells.

Wonwoo laces his fingers with yours, leading you out of the powder room. The entry way to the ballrooms is sparse with people. Everyone is inside waiting for you.

The two door men open the doors. The ballroom is lively with jazz music and a sea of people. The moment the crowd is made aware of your entrance everyone cheers as Wonwoo leads you inside.

Soon food is passed around and you're both dragged on to the dance floor. You cling to Wonwoo, swaying to the beat of the jazz music.

"Lucky." He says loud enough just for you to hear.

"Yes?"

"We'll figure this out."

Without thinking you lean up and press your lips to his for a quick kiss, earning applause from the crowd.

It's not long before your father leads you around introducing you to influential people. Wonwoo takes a chance to step away, claiming he needed to speak to the dean from his university, who is attending the wedding.

He stands by the dean attempting to listen to him. He’s more focused on watching as you talk to who he assumes is your best friend. He sees you light up for the first time. The way you smile as you speak to her is absolutely mesmerizing. He can’t help but smile as he watches you. You’re absolutely beautiful, any man would be lucky to share this day with you. Hopefully one day you’ll light up like that for him.

Wonwoo makes small talk with the dean before he finds Mingyu standing on the balcony. His friend is leaning against the railing smoking a cigarette.

Mingyu puffs out a cloud of smoke. He reaches into his suit jacket pocket pulling out his carton of cigarettes. Wonwoo grabs one. Mingyu lights a match holding it out towards him.

"Does your wife care if you smoke?" Mingyu asks before taking another puff.

"I'm not sure." Wonwoo stares at the cigarette before taking a hit. He takes a long deep breath inhaling the bitter smoke.

"I can't believe you're married." Mingyu was shocked when Wonwoo told him about his impending marriage.

"It wasn't either of our choice." He takes another hit. Wonwoo leans against the railing. He looks into the busy ballroom. He watches as your father parades you around.

"Do you like her?" Mingyu nudges him.

"I could. We don't know each other yet."

"Do you already carry a torch for her?" Mingyu can't help but smile.

Wonwoo focuses on you, barely hearing anything Mingyu is saying. "It's a crush."

"A crush?"

"She's beautiful, and kind." He barely knows you, but he can tell you're beautiful inside and out.

"You sound like a like a love sick fool." Mingyu drops his cigarette on the floor, and steps on it.

"Knock it off." Wonwoo nudges his friend.

"I didn't tell you, you clean up nice, you look spiffy."

The doors open and you step outside. Mingyu smiles over at Wonwoo before he bows to you. "You look beautiful Mrs. Jeon." Mingyu can't miss an opportunity to tease his best friend.

"Thank you." You bow your head a little.

Mingyu gives you a bow before heading back inside. You step closer to your new husband. Your nose scrunches at the scent of his cigarette. Immediately he drops to the floor.

"Not a fan of smoking?"

"No, my father smokes." That's all you need to tell him.

"I won't smoke around you."

You move so you're leaning against the railing next to him. He reaches over, lacing his fingers with yours.

"We can leave in an hour, my father told Jack to have a car waiting outside for us. We're going to our new town house."

Wonwoo doesn't know much about the house your father set up. He just knows it's property your father owns. From what little he knows, he does know it's located on the fancier side of town.

"How many rooms is the town house?"

"Two, they've fully furnished it for us. One room was turned into an office for you." He knits his brow together. He didn't expect you to give him space for an office.

"Is Mingyu upset you're moving out?"

"I think he's pleased he'll have the place to himself ."

"Is it safe to say Mingyu is a lounge lizard?"

Wonwoo bites his bottom lip holding back a smile. "The ladies love Mingyu."

You want to ask him about his past with women, but you aren't sure if that would be crossing a line. "Do the ladies love you?"

He lets the corners of his mouth turn up, with an small smile. "Not nearly as much as Mingyu."

"You aren't a lounge lizard?"

"No."

"Oh." A silence takes over. Nothing is said as you both watch the party unfolding on the other side of the glass.

"I'm not some ladies man, who chases women."

You look over him. He looks so embarrassed. "It's okay if you were."

The door opens and your mother pops out. "Come back inside, people are asking where the bride and groom are."

Your fingers are laced together the rest of the time you spend at your wedding. You're putting on quite the show for the guest. From the outside looking in, it appears you are a couple who has been together for a while. The constant touching, and the not so subtle longing looks between the two of you.

Once it's finally time to call it a night, the band plays you out as you make your grand exit. Your father has a car waiting for you. Wonwoo drives the two of you away from the luxurious hotel. Your guest cheer as you drive away.

The whole way home Wonwoo keeps glancing over at you. Nothing is said between you the whole drive.

Arriving at your new shared home, Wonwoo helps you out of the car. Walking up the couple of steps to the door, Wonwoo is right behind you. You freeze staring at the door. You always imagined on your wedding day your husband would carry you over the threshold.

Wonwoo steps next to you, and reaches out unlocking the front door. Walking in slowly, you realize this is your new home. Stepping inside behind you, Wonwoo locks the door. He looks around and see a fully furnished home for you. This place is nicer then the place he shares with Mingyu near the university. You've grown up with two different tax brackets. The couch near the window looks to be an expensive Italian leather.

You walk away from him. You must know the layout of this place. You head up stairs and head off to the bedroom. Wonwoo follows behind you.

Wonwoo is suddenly aware that this place only has one bedroom with a bed in it.

Heading off to the en-suite bathroom you struggle to remove your dress. Wonwoo hears your struggling and peaks his head in. You immediately notice the absences of most his clothing, he's just in his dress pants. You can't help it as your eyes wander his torso. It takes everything in you not to reach out and touch the outline of his abs. Your face flushes with embarrassment instantly.

"Are you okay?"

"I need help." You sound completely defeated.

He steps close to you. Hesitatingly he reaches out. He takes his time unbuttoning the buttons that run up your spine. He works cautiously, he's trying to make this as easy on you as possible.

The final button is undone, he looks away and steps back trying to give you privacy.

"I can sleep on the couch." He knows there isn't another bed here.

The beaded dress falls to the floor, leaving you standing in a pool of fabric. You're left standing there in your silk white undergarments.

"I would prefer I don't spend my wedding night alone in bed."

Wonwoo catches sight of your exposed body through mirror. His cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turn red. He's seen his fair share of women even more exposed than this, but this feel incredibly more intimate.

Wonwoo doesn't know much about you, but something tells him that you're very much a virgin. The way you reacted to his bare torso.

Laying in bed you can't help but feel sad. You always imagined your honeymoon would be some, grand romantic night. You always thought this wojld be the night you lose your virginity. Instead you find yourself laying in bed fully dressed in a nightgown staring at a man you barely know.

He looks just as sad and hollow as you do. His lips part as he goes to say something, but nothing comes out.

Reaching out, you rest your hand next to him. Tears slowly slide down your cheek, landing on the cotton sheets below you.

"Wonwoo?"

"Yes?"

"We have to protect each other."

"I'll do anything to keep you safe." He reaches out, pulling your body close to his. He doesn't say anything else as you fall asleep crying in his arms.

NOTHING IS EASY ABOUT FALLING IN LOVE

A week into being married and it feels as if you're just roommates. Wonwoo has work at the university five or six days a week, and you find yourself spending time alone more often than not.

Your days at home are spent attempting to find a hobby. Before all of this you had a passion for painting. You've found yourself most days setting up an esel and painting in front of the living room window.

It's normally quite late by the time Wonwoo arrives home from the university campus. You've tried to have a home cooked meal waiting for him every night. You hope that maybe having dinner together every night can help build your relationship.You learned very quickly that you still don't know much about each other. You were strangers thrown together, and even with the little time that had passed he still practically feels like a stranger.

You've learned his mother and father live in a different state. Wonwoo only moved here for college and to work at the university. You've learned that Mingyu is the closest thing he has to a family in the city.

After a few late nights of Wonwoo coming home, you're terrified he's off in a speakeasy gambling or possibly seeing someone else. You're not able to protect him from your father if he keeps losing money, or if he's having an affair.

It's close to ten at night when Wonwoo finally arrives at home. You're sitting on the couch with a book in your lap. Wonwoo comes in looking deshevled and exhausted. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his tie is loosened.

He's startled at the sight of you waiting up for him. "You waited up for me?"

"I was concerned about where you were."

"It's Mingyu's birthday. I stopped by his place to have dinner with him and Soonyoung."

"Oh." You close the book and stand up. "I would have appreciated if you let me know if you won't be home for dinner. I spent an hour cooking. I even waited up for you."

"I didn't think you would care if I missed dinner." He sighs, dropping briefcase down on the floor.

Taking a deep breath you stand up. You refuse to be stuck in a strained marriage, just like your parents. "Wonwoo, I understand that we didn't chose this marriage, but I desperately want to try and make this work."

He pushes his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Okay."

"So, please just communicate with me." Your eyes brim with tears. Your emotions and stress are getting the best of you.

His stomach twist seeing you, once again upset, because of him.

"I'm sorry." He steps closer to you.

"I should get some sleep." You're exhausted and you don't want to have this conversation anymore.

Laying in bed you stare at the door. You wish more than anything Wonwoo would walk through it, and join you in bed. Since your wedding night you've slept fully alone. Wonwoo has been sleeping on the living room couch. Your bedroom, you are supposed to share feels lonely. He only comes in here when he needs to get clothing from the closet.

The longer you stare at the door the more you start to cry. You cry yourself to sleep once again.

Walking out of the bedroom in the morning you're greeted to the sound of a silent home. You already know Wonwoo is gone before you reach the living room. In the kitchen you find a letter in a cream envelope with "My Dearest" written on the front.

Opening the letter you immediately feel your heart squeezes at the sight of Wonwoo's penmanship.

My Dearest,

I want to apologize for being so distant. I'm aware that all your troubles have been because of me. I sincerely want to be a better man. I want to learn to be a good husband, and learn to fall in love with you. I know before this we didn't know each other, and because of my disgressions in life, you're now tied to me. I want to make a promise to you, I'll try my hardest to make this work. I have stopped gambling, and have stayed away from anything related to your father. I want to prove to you, that I can be a good man. The one thing I ask for time, please let me learn to navigate all this.

I do have one last request, have dinner with me tomorrow night.

Always,

Wonwoo

You hope that he's being truthful about wanting to grow and be a better man, and that he truly does want to learn to fall in love with you. The idea of being stuck in a loveless marriage is terrifying to you. You've seen too many people you know get stuck in those types of marriage.

Wonwoo is true to his word. At six pm sharp he walks through the front door. He find you standing in front of the window working on a painting.

"Hello." He says pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Hello." You turn away from your painting. "I made dinner earlier, we just need to heat it up. I thought soup would be nice, after a cold day."

Wonwoo heads off to the closet that's near the door, and hangs up his coat. Heading off to the kitchen and start putting the soup back on the stove. Aimlessly you stir the soup. Wonwoo's foot steps catch your attention.

Wonwoo silently starts setting the table to the two of you. You glance up at him, slowly stirring the soup.

"It smells delicious." He says glancing over at you.

"Do you mind bringing the bowls in here, so I can dish us?"

He brings you two bowls, you pour the savory soup, serving both of you. Wonwoo walks them back to the table.

Sitting at the table you watch him slowly eat. He's such a handsome man, you can't imagine women didn't chase after him. "Wonwoo?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever courted someone before?"

"Yes." He suddenly feels embarrassed and he doesn't know why. "Have you ever been courted?"

"I was secretly seeing someone once." You were so young and naive back then. You were barely twenty-one when you started an innocent affair with one of your father's men.

"Who was it?" He suddenly feels jealous at the idea of someone being with you. He hates this feeling. He has absolutely no right to feel this way.

"Johnny, one of my fathers men."

"Oh." That's definitely not what he wanted to hear.

"Nothing happened, we never consummated our relationship or anything like that. I ran away before anything could happen." That was back when you desperately wanted to escape this life.

"You ran away?" He had absolutely no idea you ran away.

"It was back when I was twenty-one. I had enough of how controlling my father was. Honestly it's a story for a different time." You still remember the fear you lived in while you were on the run.

Wonwoo wants to ask you more questions, but can immediately tell this is a touchy subject. "Okay, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

You both silently eat together for a little bit. Even though neither of you are really saying much, it's just nice to have company. You can't take this feeling of being alone.

"Wonwoo?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for the letter."

"It's the least I could do." He sets his spoon down. He gives you a sad smile. "I know I'm the reason things haven't been easy for you. I promise I'm going to try my best."

"I appreciate that. I meant it when I said, we're a team. As along as you are trying that's all I ask "

He reaches out and takes your hand. This is the first time he's properly touched your, since your wedding night. He bring the top of your hand to his lips, and presses a soft kiss there.

Tonight might just be a small step in the right direction, but at least things are changing.

Things after that night feel like they’re heading in the right direction. Wonwoo makes sure he's home for dinner. He’s actively getting to know you. You’ve learned so much about him.

On Sundays you’ve even started going for evening strolls together. You look forward to any time you get to spend by his side. Even if you weren’t forced together, you feel as if Wonwoo is someone you would have easily fallen for. You often wonder if he feels the same about you.

You’re hopeful things will keep going smoothly.

THE MARRIED VIRGIN

It's been four long months of marriage. You thought maybe things would get easier the longer you have been married. But it turns out they haven't. The threat of your father hanging over your head, while you're attempting to make your marriage work, hasn't been easy. Wonwoo has gotten so much better at communicating, and he's gone out of his way to work on getting to know you.

The true issue other then the ever looming threat of your father hanging over your head is, the fact Wonwoo won't share a bed with you. Wonwoo sleeping on the couch is starting to drive you mad. You’ve been married for four months and he won’t even touch you, other then a holding your hand or a kiss on the cheek. He is so respectful of you and polite you can’t even be mad. He's been a gentleman in every sense of the word. The fact that you're a married woman and still a virgin is maddening.

You've decided to spend this Saturday morning shopping with your best friend. She's mentioned needing to find a dress for an upcoming party her and Joshua, her husband are attending.

Looking through dresses hanging on the wall you're listening to her ramble on about nonsensical things. Her newest fascination is the fact that Wonwoo won't touch you in any sort of romantic way.

"Four months and you're still virgin?" Jewel sounds appalled at the idea of you still being untouched.

Your best friend Jewel has given you pointers on how to seduce your husband, but your inexperience with men, has left you too shy to try. You've heard about all the dirty details about her sexual escapades with her husband Joshua.

"It's not from lack of trying on my part. It's a delicate subject. I'm not sure how to approach him with the idea, that I would like to consummate our marriage." Your face is bright with embarrassment.

"Lucky, you just need to tell him. Tell him being a married virgin is strange."

The door to the store opens and you pay no mind to it as you look through the beautiful dresses. Someone clears their throat and you turn around to see one of your father's men Tae standing there.

"Miss, your father sent me to give you this." He holds out an expensive looking envelope with a gold wax seal on it. He hands one to you and one to Jewel.

He stands there waiting for you to open it. Pealing away the seal you find an invitation for art auction. Your father has been known to host these, you just didn't expect him to have one of his men give you a personal invite.

"Your father has requested you and your husband Mr. Jeon attend." Your stomach twist at him mentioning Wonwoo your father is up to something, but you aren't sure what.

Jewel is standing next to your protectively. "Tae, how did you find us?" Jewel grew up down the street from Tae so she has no problem sassing him.

"Mrs. Jeon's father is friends with the owner of this store." You glance up at the store owner to see him intently watching your conversation.

Shoving the invitation back in the envelope you glance up at Tae. You aren't sure what your father has up his sleeve, but he's playing some sort of game, you'll play along.

Tae leaves and you're left feeling uneasy. Jewel can immediately tell the day has been soured. "Should we call it day?"

"Yes, I should speak to Wonwoo."

Walking into your home you find Wonwoo in the living room. He’s standing in front of the window holding a book watching the rain fall. He’s dressed in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. He seems more distracted than normal today.

“Wonwoo,” you say, earning his attention.

“Hi,” he closes the book and turns to fully face you.

“We have an event we have to attend,” you hold out your invitation that Tae dropped while you were shopping downtown with Jewel.

He pads across the living room and takes the invitation. His eyes brows knit together as he intently reads it.

“Why are we invited to an art auction?”

“I don’t know what his game plan is,” you sigh. Your father always has something up his sleeve. He’s always ten steps ahead of you. “I just don’t trust him. He has something planned.”

“What happened when you ran away?” Wonwoo asked, sitting down on the couch. You never planned on telling anyone about your attempt to run away. You realized after getting married, you can't keep secrets from Wonwoo. The only way you can keep each other safe, is if you're both open and honest.

You take a deep breath remembering the night you finally had enough and called Seokmin to help pack your bags while you attempt to get out of the state. “My father had someone find me.”

You shiver thinking about the constant fear you lived in waiting to be found. You finally had enough of being controlled and left in the middle of the night. With money you had been saving you ran away. You got to a different state. Your original plan was to get a new identity and start over, but you never got that far.

“Who found you?”

“Johnny." You vividly remember him breaking down the door to the apartment you were in. You had a short fling with Johnny before your father sent him to track him down. He didn’t think twice about turning his back on you to listen to your father.

“Did he hurt you,” he gently rests his hand on your thigh.

“No he didn’t. I knew what he was capable of, I didn’t give him the chance to even hurt me." Johnny might have cared for you before you left, but the moment you ran away you became nothing more than a job to him. "I made it to Chicago when he tracked me down."

“Were you planning on leaving again before that night you met me?”

“I wanted to, that’s why my father forced you to marry me. My father needed me to have someone who could be collateral damage for any mistakes I could make. You’re meant to anchor me here. If I leave he’ll kill you and not think twice about it.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. The heavy feeling in your chest hasn’t left you since Wonwoo arrived at your family home, early that morning many months back.

“It’s not your fault. I got myself into this situation too.”

“You stopped gambling right?” you ask praying he didn’t get himself into any more of a mess.

“I stopped. I try to avoid anything connected to your father at all costs. I hasn't step foot in a speakeasy since that night." He pushes his fingers through his dark hair. “If you want to try and run away again I’ll go with you and we can try to fully disappear again.” At this point Wonwoo would do anything to keep you safe.

You can’t believe he just offered to risk his life for you. You couldn’t ever ask him to put his life on the line for you like that. You know you could never fully disappear. Once Johnny or Tae did find you, they would make sure they killed Wonwoo in front of you.

“We can’t do that Wonwoo, I care about you too much for you to risk your life for me.”

“We’re a team right?” He says leaning in before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah we’re a team.” Closing your eyes you lean into his touch. You’ve fallen hard for your husband, you pray he feels the same way towards you. “Wonwoo—" You want to ask him to sleep in your room. There is a desperate feeling you have, to share some sort of intimacy with him. Even if it’s just sharing a bed and sleeping near him. “Please stop sleeping in the living room. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

Looking at you he cocks his head to the side as his eyebrows knit together. “Is that something you truly want?”

“Yes. I fully understand if you want to stay out here. But we’re married and I don’t really see you as just my roommate." You're putting yourself on the line here.

“I’ve tried really hard to be respectful because you didn’t choose me. It’s not like I was courting you before.” He reaches out, taking your hand. You move so you’re facing him sitting on the couch next to him.

“I might not have chosen you, but I care about you and I have feelings for you. I would like to be your wife, not just on paper.”

“Lucky, I would like to be your actual husband not just in name,” he whispers leaning forward.

“Okay good,” your nose brushes against his.

Leaning forward your lips touch for the first time since your wedding night. His soft lips are gentle for the first part of the kiss. He pulls away with his lips barely away from yours. “I have wanted to kiss you for so long, He whispers. You crash your lips into his for a heated kiss. You kiss him like you need him to breathe. He’s the air that fills your lungs in the suffocating ocean your father has brought you into.

He grabs your hips pulling you onto his lap. His hand rests on your soft sides as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“You’re so pretty,” he says.

"Wonwoo—" You're quite inexperienced in most aspects of a sexual relationship. You and Johnny did fool around some back in the day, but you are still very much a virgin.

"Yes?" He pulls back a little bit.

"I'm a virgin." Your face immediately flushes. You shouldn't feel embarrassed admitting that, but for some reason you are. You stomach knots as he just blankly stares at you for a long moment.

The corners of his lips, tug into a smile. "Sweetheart, that's fine. You have nothing to be embarrassed about." He reaches up, resting his hand on your cheek. "I'll take care of you."

He drags his thumb across your bottom lip. Your lips part slightly, as your stare at him with lust filled eyes. "We should move to the bedroom."

Crawling off of him, you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. His lips move against your as he slowly works on removing all the delicate layers of your clothes.

Laying on the bed completely bare you watch him, slowly take off if his own clothes. His glasses have been discarded, they're sitting in the dresser. His eyes stayed locked on you only focused on you as he strips away his clothes.

You've never properly seen a man naked before, but you know just by the glorious sight of his naked body, Wonwoo is no average man. His abs that line his stomach are absolutely mouth watering. The small trial of hair that leads down his navel to the promise land, leaves you awestruck. His cock is much bigger then you expected. It's a large and girthy. His length is a rosy color, and it curves up slightly. Maybe another time, you'll take your time exploring his body.

Wonwoo crawls on the bed slowly. You expect him to move so he's hovering over you. You're caught off guard when he lays down in front of you, with his face right in front of your needy core.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you look down at him confused. You know Jewel has mentioned Joshua is a fan of cunnilingus, but she said not all men like it.

Wonwoo places a kiss on top of your mound. Your eyes are blown wide, unsure of what to expect. "Wonwoo?"

"Yes darling?"

"What are you doing?"

"It's your first time, I need to prepare you." What does he mean, prepare you? "I want you to have at least one orgasm, before you can take me." He slowly runs his pointer finger through your wet folds. "Have you ever had an orgasm before?"

Your face burns with embarrassment thinking about the few times you've touched yourself, and the one time you found your release rutting against Johnny's thigh.

"Yes."

"Relax and let me take care of you."

Leaning in close he starts, lazily licking your sensitive clit, while he toy with your entrance.

"You taste so sweet," he moans against your clit.

Your finger grip the cotton sheets below. He sucks on your clit like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

Dropping back down to the bed, you moan out. Your fingers grip the sheets, desperately trying to ground yourself.

You can't help but squirm as you suck in your tummy. All the senses in your body are on high alert.

"Won—" you can't think of any other words then his name, in that moment.

He moans against your pussy, the vibration pushing you over the cliff. You free fall in the deep abyss. Your walls flutter around his fingers like a heartbeat.

He pulls away with a lazy smile, and his eyes half lidded. He wiped your release off with his fingers. Sticking them in his mouth he licks your sweet release off.

"You sound so pretty when you cum."

He moves so he's sitting on his knees, between your spread legs. Your chest rises and falls, your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. Wonwoo's strong hand rubs your thigh, helping to soothe you. "Are you okay to keep going? We can stop if you're not ready for more."

Desperately you reach for him. You can't bare for him to stop once you've had him. "please, I need you."

He nods. "Okay, darling."

He moves so he's hovering over you. Reaching between you, he takes his length in hand. He runs bulbous tip through your wet folds, collecting some of your release.

"This might hurt a little. If it hurts too much or you're uncomfortable, please tell me."

He enters you at an excruciatingly slow pace. Pushing in inch by inch, giving you a chance to adjust to the sheer sizes of him. The feeling of him stretching you, is like nothing you've ever experienced.

He fills you to the brim, practically kissing your cervix. He holds completely still, sitting on his knees, hovering over you. One of your hands holds his shoulder needing something to ground yourself.

"How does it feel?" He asks.

"Strange, it kinda of hurts, but not in a bad way."

"We can stop."

"I don't want to."

Reaching out, he laces his fingers with yours. he pins your hand, next to your head. Leaning down he connects his lips to yours for an intoxicating kiss. His tongue slides across you bottom lip, asking for access. Your tongues move together, helping to distract you, as Wonwoo slowly starts to move.

The first few shallow thrust feel strange. With each slow movement your body starts adjusting more and more.

"You feel so good." He moans against your lips.

Tangling your fingers in his hair you hold his face close to yours. "oh—" your moan is nothing more than a breathy whimper.

"You're doing so good." Hearing him praise you, does something to you.

With each slow thrust the pain starts to dissipate. The steady feeling of pleasure starts to take over.

"Feels good." The coil in your stomach starts to tighten.

Nose rest against yours. "Can you cum again?"

Wordlessly you nod.

"You're doing so good." He repeats. This thrust have grown deeper and steadier.

Your breathing feels shaky as you approach the edge of the cliff. Every thrust brings you a step closer.

Your eyes roll back, and your body free falls into the icy cold abyss. This orgasm feels like nothing you have experienced before. Your walls flutter around his length, that doesn't stop moving. Moaning his name loudly you squeeze his hand that is pining yours to the bed.

"Wonwoo—" you cry.

"Fuck." He swears with a moan.

"You're squeezing me." His thrust have lost their rhythm. His own release is rapidly approaching."I'm going to cum, where should I?" He's on the brink of falling apart.

The logical part of your brain should tell him to pull out, that you haven't discussed children. But that part of your brain isn't in charge right now. Your fingers cling to his back as your practically cry. "Inside."

He picks up his pace, chasing his high. He moans your name like a sinful prayer as he paints your walls with his milky release. He ruts his hips into your, helping each of you, ride out your high.

He drops down to his elbows, he's practically plastered against you. Every aspect of him, feels so consuming to you. Reaching up, you run your fingers through his dark hair.

"Did I hurt you?" He doesn't think he could live with himself if he hurt you.

"No, I'm a little sore, but that was wonderful."

Leaning down he presses his lips to yours. You want to say the three words out loud that are stuck in your throat, but you can't. Not until you're sure he feels the same way.

"I need to clean you up." He pulls away from you. You want to beg him not to leave, but you know he's trying to take care of you.

He leaves the room long enough to come back with a wet cloth to clean you up. Laying the bed he takes his time wiping away his release that slowly leaking out of you.

"We've never discussed having children." He says looking at your core.

"I know."

"I've always wanted to be a father." He knits his brows together and looks away from you.

"I think you would be a good father." Wonwoo is kind, caring and very intelligent. His one flaw is gambling issue, that he's seemed to have gotten under control.

"Do you want to be a mother?"

You can't help but smile. "I would like to be one."

Wonwoo disposes the cloth, before he crawls into bed with you. He pulls you close to him. You're both still naked, neither of you have a desire to get dressed. Your head rest on his chest. Gently he rubs your side helping to soothe you to sleep. For the first time in a longtime, you no longer feel lonely.

-

The day of the art auction, you can't get rid of the anxious feeling eating away at you. It's a Saturday so luckily Wonwoo has the day off. He's sitting in the living room reading a book while you're on the verge of a panic picking a dress to wear.

You settle on an emerald beaded gown. You call for Wonwoo, needing his help to button your dress. He walks in and is immediately taken a back at how beautiful you are.

He takes his time individually buttoning the back of your dress. Finishing up, he steps back to admire how beautiful you are.

"You're so beautiful."

"Thank you. You should get dressed."

Wonwoo heads off and gets dressed in his three piece suit you got him. He looks absolutely incredible my handsome. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You eyes roam his body.

"Were quite the pair Mr. Jeon."

"It helps that Mrs. Jeon is gorgeous."

Arriving at the ballroom. There is a lavish entry filled with the richest and the most elite people in the city. Wonwoo takes your hand, leading you past the sea people.

A jazz band plays on stage. Looking around you see paintings lining the wall with people staring at them.

You catch sight of Joshua and Jewel speaking with one of Joshua's friends Seungkwan. Wonwoo releases your hand long enough to to track you down something to drink.

Jewel grabs your arm leading you away from the boys. "You look beautiful." She says to you, leading you towards the paintings that line the wall.

Your heart sinks staring at the black and white paintings. They're all reminiscent of the street in Chicago you ran away to. There a few details that leave you absolutely sick. Walking closer to you see red paint splattered in some, that resembles blood, and another has a pair of broken glasses, that look exactly like Wonwoo's

Instinctively your hand clutches your pearl necklace. Your eyes are wide as your try not to cry. This art auction is truly nothing more then a warning to you from your father.

"Lucky?" Jewel immediately knows something is wrong.

"I need my husband." Turning on your heels you speed walk over to Wonwoo.

You practically throw yourself into his arms. He can immediately tell you're extremely upset. He looks at the paintings where you just were. He releases you and pulls back. His hand rest on your cheek. The slow drag of his thumb acrossed your delicate skin, is helping to soothe you.

"What's wrong?"

"The painting are a message to me." Pulling away you search for your father, but he's nowhere to be seen.

It's clear your father wants to play a game, and you're not a about to become a a pawn again.

The band plays a song loudly. You look around and find Jewel and Joshua standing near. Wonwoo's hand is protectively on your back.

There is about an hour you play the role of the socialite. You lead Wonwoo around to speaking to old friends, and people connected to your family. Everyone is very interested and learning about your new husband and his job as a professor. The whole time you're making your rounds you watch out for your father close circle of men. You know if you spot Johnny, Tae or Jack your father is near.

Wonwoo leans in close and whispers in your ear, "your father is here."

Looking across the room you see your father for the first time. You know your mother and sister are somewhere here, but you don't have time to look for them.

"Wonwoo stay here." You lean up to give him a quick kiss.

He looks over his glasses and finds your father intently watching both of you. "I can go with you."

"No. Let me handle him." You step away from him, but before you can get more then a step away he pulls you back. You can tell by the look in his eyes, he's scared just like you are. "Wonwoo, I'll be okay."

He doesn't say anything, he just leans down and presses his lips to yours. "I'll be waiting for you."

Taking a deep breath you make your way across the crowded room.

"Father." You walk up to him. The man standing next to him in and expensive suit takes this as his sign to walk away.

"My darling daughter. It's clear your husband is already keen on you." Your father's eyes are locked on Wonwoo while he stands next to Jewel and Joshua.

"He's a good husband."

"You're fooling nobody. It's clear you've fallen in love with him. Seems he's serving his propose already." His words are menacing.

"His purpose?" You need to play dumb, so your father shows his hand.

"If you love him, you'll do anything you can to keep him safe. If you leave, I'll make him suffer, while you watch." His hand grips your heart, and he squeezes tighter and tighter with each pointed word.

"Leave him alone." Each one of your words is pointed.

"As long as you behave, nothing will happen to your husband."

"I'm not going to run again. I have him, and I'm happy. Leave us alone."

Your father lets out a little laugh. "You know Wonwoo has some good genes. He's handsome, and extremely intelligent. His only issue is his eye sight, and him wearing those cheaters." His eyes are locked on Wonwoo. "I would love grandchildren. Maybe I should tell your husband that it's time to make you a mother." Bile starts to crawl up your throat. If you have children one day, you want to keep them far away from your father.

"Leave him alone."

"Maybe marriage wasn't good for you. Suddenly you think you're able to talk back to me."

"Stop it." You've had enough of his threatening words.

"You should find your mother. She's been looking for you all night."

"Goodbye father." You step away.

"Just remember, even if you love him, that won't stop me from using him to keep you in line."

With each step you take, you fight to hold back tears. Looking up you see Wonwoo watching you. As he goes to take a step, you shake your head. You don't want him anywhere close to your father.

Jewel and Joshua watch as you rush to Wonwoo. The second you're close enough he grabs your hand, pulling you toward him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you bury your face in his chest. Desperately you try and fight back tears. You pull away from him slowly. He rests his hand on your cheek. He drags his thumb across the delicate skin on your cheek.

"We should leave." You can't stay here any longer.

"Lucky, are you okay?" Joshua seems just as concerned as his wife.

"Mr. Jeon." You're father's menacing voice echoes behind you.

Wonwoo pulls back a little, dropping your hand. His eyes stayed locked on your, you can instantly see he's scared. Reaching down you grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"Sir." Wonwoo responds.

Your fathers give him a menacing smile, stepping closer. "Do you like the art?"

Squeezing his hand, you let him know he's not alone. "it's quite unique."

"I found an artist who is great at drawing cities."

"So it seems." Wonwoo responds.

"Have you ever been to Chicago?" Your father mentioning the name of the city you ran away to sends a chill down your spine.

"No sir."

"I've heard it's beautiful, you should ask my daughter about it."

The loud room instantly feels silent. A ringing takes over you ears. You stomach knots, staring at your father.

Wonwoo squeezes your hand, snapping you out of it. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"I don't think that's necessary." Wonwoo says.

Shame suddenly takes over you. You feel incredibly small under the crushing gaze your father is giving you. Whatever sick and twisted game he wants to play, he's winning.

Tae walks over capturing your fathers attention. He whispers something in his ear.

"I must take my leave. Lucky, tell your husband about Chicago." He walks away, leaving you feeling sick.

Stepping back, you hold back your tears. Wonwoo doesn't let you go far. He desperately clings to your had.

"Lucky." Jewel rushes towards you, with Joshua right behind her.

"Do you want to go home?" Wonwoo asked.

"Yes, I'm ready to leave." He just bibs his farewell and leads you out of the ballroom.

You flee with the party, clinging to your husband. You desperately want to escape this personal hell, your father has made for you.

The whole ride home Wonwoo doesn't try to make small talk, his silence is comforting.

Arriving at home Wonwoo takes his time to help unbotton your dress. Once the last button is undone, he presses his lips to your bare shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He knows it's a loaded question.

"No, but I will be."

TEAR STAINED CHEEKS AND SWEET KISSES

Six months into marriage things between you and Wonwoo are fantastic. You've fallen head over heels more and more in love with him.

He does anything he possibly can do to make you happy. There is a little part of him that is constantly reminding, that in some way he will let you down. He's known for awhile at some point he's going to need to take the train back home to see his family. In an ideal situation, he would be able to take you with him. He knows deep down inside he can't.

After a long day at work, Wonwoo finds you painting in the living room. Painting has consumed your free time. Wonwoo often finds you like this after work. He loves watching you paint. You seem so incredibly happy when you're lost in your painting.

"Hi, my dearest."

You turn and find him standing there looking so handsome. In these last few months you haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself. You just can't get enough of him.

"I need to take a trip home to see my parents." That wasn't what you expected him to say.

"Oh?"

"I would love for them to meet you, I'm just worried if you go, your father will assume we're up to something." Wonwoo tries to act strong when it comes to anything involving your father, but you know he's just as terrified as you.

"Are you asking me to stay home?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I'll only be gone a week. I asked Mingyu to keep an eye on you, as well as Joshua and Jewel." Your face falls, and Wonwoo feels his stomach twist. He can't stand seeing you sad.

"Wonwoo I don't like the idea of staying home." You aren't used to being alone anymore.

He rushes over to you. "I know, I hate it too. I'm just scared of you go with me, your father will follow us."

"When do you leave?"

"In a week. I'm going to take the train to Philly."

"Okay."

"Lucky, please don't be mad. I'm trying to keep us safe."

"I want to meet your family." You hate the idea that Wonwoo's family wasn't even at his wedding. They have no idea what you're like. Apart of you is terrified they'll hate you for bringing Wonwoo into your mess of a family.

"I want you to meet them too. We just need to wait."

"Wonwoo do they know why we got married?"

He pushes your hair behind your ear. "No, I just told them I fell in love with you. That we had a whirlwind romance and I begged you to marry me."

"When did you tell them that?"

"That week I wrote you that letter. I sent them a letter telling them about our marriage."

You try to go about your night normally, but the aching feeling in your chest still lingers. Even married your father continues to control your life. A normal married couple would be able to travel to see their in laws, but you simply can not do that.

Laying in bed you stare at the wall. No matter how hard you try, you can't stop the tears from falling. The bathroom door opens, and Wonwoo steps into the bedroom.

There is a long beat of silence before Wonwoo slides into bed. Without saying a word, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your body close to his. He presses his lips to the exposed delicate skin on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He hates that he keeps hurting you.

"It's not your fault, it's my fathers fault."

"I still hurt you though. I want you to meet my family."

"I know."

He hand kneads your stomach, helping to relax you. "I love you." He says those three words you've been dying to say for months.

"I love you too."

Mindlessly he starts kissing the side of you neck. Soft moans pass your lips, as he focuses on the sensitive area under your ear.

"Darling, can you lay on your back for me?"

He pulls away, giving you space to move. Laying on your back, you look over at him. He sits on his knees, he takes a moment to pull off his shirt. This body is mouth watering. Recently you can't seem to get enough of him. Pushing yourself up, you pull off your night gown. Lifting your hips, you shimmy out of your panties. You're left laying on the bed completely bare.

Wonwoo hops off the bed long enough to remove his pants. He's already hard, his large lenght is already leaking.

Slowly he crawls onto the bed towards you. He takes his time lowering himself onto the bed in front of you. Leaving a trail of wet kisses across your inner thigh.

Hw kisses the top of your mound before he dives in, like a man straved. He knows exactly what you need to push you over the edge. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close. Without even thinking your hips rut towards his face.

He laughs against your core, at how needy you are for him. He adores seeing you desperate for your release.

"You sound so pretty." He moans.

"Won—" you all but cry, practically on the edge.

"Can you cum?"

Rapidly you not your head. "Yes."

"Okay, darling." He goes back to sucking on your clit. He works you closer and closer to the edge. His finger work in tandem with his mouth. He thrust two finger in and out of you, over and over again.

Your orgasm feel like a white hot wave. Releasing your fingers from his hair, you go limp against the bed. Your whole body feels as light as a feather.

He pulls back, sporting a grin. Silently he licks his fingers clean of your release. "You taste so good."

Your eyes can’t help but focus on the way his hard cock is leaking. He moves so he’s hovering over you. He’s pressing his lips anywhere he can reach. Without thinking you reach between you. You start pumping his velvety length.

“Fuck—“ he moans.

“Wonwoo, I need you.”

“You can have me.” He removes your hand from him. He takes his cock and guides it to your entrance. A gasp passes your lips as his mushroom tip slips in. No matter how many times you do this, you need a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of him. He pushes in inch by inch.

The moment you’re filled to the brim he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you hung the stars and the moon. Reaching up, resting your hand on his cheek.

“My darling wife, you’re my everything.”

Your heart squeezes. Tears brim your eyes once again. Wonwoo loves you so much, and in turn you’re head over heels for him.

“I love you.” You whisper.

He pulls back slowly, before pushing his hips forward. He makes love to you slowly. His lips are all over your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Your hands touch anywhere they possibly can. You want to touch anywhere and everywhere you can reach.

With each slow and deep thrust he’s brushing that spot inside of you, that has you seeing stars.

The room is filled with echoing sounds of your moans and whimpers, and his groans against your skin. There is a sound of squelching from your release.

“Im gonna—“ your brain can't even process how to finish that sentence.

“You can do it baby.” He pulls back slightly.

“Won—“ you cry out. You release hits you hard and fast, the air feels as if it’s been knocked out of your lungs.

Your walls flutter around his length like a heartbeat. Your fingers cling to him, holding him close. His thrust has lost its rhythm. His own release is rapidly approaching. His moaning your name like a sinful prayer.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m going to—“ his hips stutter. With one practically deep thrust he spills his milky release.

His forehead rests against yours. His eyes are squeezed shut. Slowly he rocks his hips into you, helping each of you ride out your highs.

“I love you.” He whispers with his lips brushing yours.

HIS LUCKY CHARM

You've been feeling off for a few weeks, and the entire time Wonwoo has been gone you've been nauseous and throwing up. You're pretty sure you're pregnant. You want to be a mother, and you know Wonwoo would be an amazing father, but you're scared.

You've spent the whole time pretending you're okay in front of Mingyu, Joshua and Jewel. You don't want anyone to know you're pregnant until you tell Wonwoo.

The whole time he's gone, you miss him dearly. One evening you finally decide you feel well enough to paint. You open your box of paints, and find a letter from your husband.

My Dearest,

I hope you find this letter. I hate that I wasn't able to bring you along. Just know I did it to protect you. I know we did originally chose each other, but that didn't stop me from falling in love with you. You're the sun to my moon. You're the reason breathe each day. I love you so much, and I can't want until we're reunited.

Love, your husband.

You never thought you would find love like you have with Wonwoo.

You spend your time alone painting for ready some of the books Wonwoo keeps in a bookshelf. Jewel and Joshua often invite you over for dinner, or Mingyu comes around, so you aren't alone.

The amount of nausea you're experiencing is a firm reminder you're indeed pregnant. You and Wonwoo haven't done anything to prevent pregnancy, so you aren't surprised.

It's the day Wonwoo is finally serving back home. Sitting on the bathroom floor you wonder how Wonwoo will react to the news.

Your plans for cook dinner tonight have long gone out the window.

The sound of the front door closings catches your attention. You hear your name called in the distance. You're barely able to yell out for your husband, before you throw up again.

He finds you with your head in the toliet, spilling the contents of your stomach. Instantly he squats down next to you, and starts rubbing your back. Helping to soothe you.

"Darling, what's wrong."

"I think I'm pregnant." You pull back sitting on your knees looking over at him.

Wonwoo suddenly feels a mixture of excitement and terror. The idea of your father using his child as a pawn against both of you is absolutely terrifying.

He's lost all the color in his face as he stares at you. "Wonwoo?"

"Lucky, that's amazing, darling."

Placing his hand on your cheek he leans in and rest his nose against yours. Even thought the circumstances that led to your marriage aren't normal, he can't deny how much he loves you.

"You're going to be an amazing mother."

"I hope I am." You never wanted to raise a child anywhere near your father. The idea of bringing a child into this world is terrifying.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. He ever so slowly pushes your hair away from your face. "Darling, let me make you some tea to soothe your stomach."

He helps you stand up, and gives you a chance to clean up. Heading off to the kitchen he focuses on making you a cup of tea.

Walking into the kitchen you find Wonwoo focused on making you a cup of tea. Walking up behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. Resting your cheek against his back. You missed him so much.

"Next time you go on a trip, can we try and see if I can go with you." His absence made you realize, you don't want to live a life where Wonwoo isn't by your side.

He pulls away and spins around. Wrapping his arms around you, he holds you close. "I missed you so much." He leans down pressing his lips to yours for a gentle kiss.

"I missed you too."

"I saw your painting by the window."

You pull back giving him a soft smile. "In your absence, I distracted myself with painting."

He reaches out resting his hand on your stomach. "Maybe you could paint our beautiful baby something for their nursery?"

He's always encouraging you to paint. He always says, he loves watching you light up painting. Since everything unfolded that morning where you met Wonwoo, painting has brighten you so much joy.

"I would love to do that."

Sitting at the kitchen table sipping on tea, Wonwoo tells you all about his visit to see his family. He lights up, mentioning how his mother says she wants to meet you, and when she says she wants grandchildren. Instinctively you rest your hand on your stomach.

Unfortunately Wonwoo's parents won't be the only set of grandparents in your child's life. You know your mother will be a great grandmother, you're just terrified of your father.

For the longest time you have been sitting on lots of information about your fathers illegal activities. It seems the time has finally come to let your father know he won't be controlling your family you've built with Wonwoo.

Looking at Wonwoo you can see the way he looks at you. You're his everything, and in turn he's your everything. You stand by your promise you made to him, you'll protect him. The only way you can truly protect him, is by telling your father to leave you alone.

Your first evening home with Wonwoo ends with you laying in bed together. His head rest near your stomach. You can't help but smile as he talks to your baby. You both know there is no way your very small child can possibly hear him, but it doesn't matter. His actions makes both of you happy.

"I'm going to love you so much. You're momma is the best thing that ever happened to me." His sweet words make your eyes water.

"They're going to love you just as much." You respond.

-

Two weeks pass until you're finally ready to speak to your father. You make sure not to tell Wonwoo, and you plan your trip for when he's at work at the university. You made sure to inform Jewel of your location, incase your father tries to pull anything.

It's a chilly autumn morning as you make your way through the city. Your families home is located on the upper fancy side of the city. You hold your close to your body, protecting yourself from the breezy.

Walking into your family home, you find your mother in the foyer. She lights at the sight of you. She pulls you into a tight hug.

"Lucky, I didn't know you were coming by." She immediately helps your remove your coat.

"Wonwoo is at work, and I need to talk to father."

She pulls back and looks at you with worried eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be." You step back.

"He's in the dining room. He just finished up a meeting ."

Walking through the the living room, you enter the dining room. Your father is sitting alone. In front of him is a plate with steak and a glass of what looks like whiskey. One of the men he met with must of brought him the illegal brown colored liquor.

"Father."

"My darling daughter." You hate that he always speaks to you in a condescending tone.

You pull out a chair and sit down across from him."I shouldn't be here long. I'm stopping by to let you know, I'm with child."

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly processing what you just told him."You're pregnant?"

"Yes, and I'm letting you know now." You pause. This is your chance to finally be brave. "If you ever want to see me or your grandchild you will leave me and Wonwoo alone. This isn't a threat, but a promise. If you so much as touch one hair on Wonwoo's head, I will burn down everything you have worked for. You just won't see me or my child ever again. I will burn down your empire." You've spent years paying attention to all the illegal things your fathers does.

He barks out a bitter laugh. "Know your place, child."

"I'm not a child. I'm giving you a chance to know your grandchild."

He grabs the expensive glass, an takes a drink of the whiskey. "You're threatening me."

"No I'm promising you, that if you hurt my husband or try to control me, I'll end everything." You've been paying close attention to your father's illegal activities since your were an adult.

"Where is your beloved husband?" He leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

"Thats none of you business."

"You wouldn't do anything."

"I think Bureau of Investigation would love to know about the speakeasy on twelveth street. Or about your money moving store fronts." You have no issues laying your cards out on the table.

"You love the professor so much you would throw away your family that gave you everything." He's switching to a tactic of guilting you.

"I would do anything for him and our child." Instinctively you rest your hand on your stomach.

He doesn't say anything he just leans back in his chair. His eyes are burning into you. "It's time I leave now. I'm going on a trip with my husband. I better not encounter any of your men."

"Are you running away?"

"No, I'm going on a much needed trip. Don't worry I'll be back."

Walking out of the dining room you find your sister and mother standing there. Both of them practically in tears. This isn't how you wanted either of them to find out.

"You're pregnant?" Your mother asks.

"Yes." You can't stop the tears that start falling.

"Does Wonwoo know?" Your sister asks.

"Yes, and he's very happy."

Your mother wraps her arms around you, pulling you close. "I'm so happy for you, Lucky. Maybe you were his lucky charm."

You think about this often. You've always been called Lucky, because your mother says you're a lucky charm, and maybe she's right. Wonwoo and you being thrown together changed his life. He's even says you're his lucky charm.

"I think he's mine."

-

EPILOGUE: SNOWFALL

Two month later you find yourself stepping off a train with Wonwoo by your side. This is your first time traveling since that faithful trip to Chicago. Wonwoo holds your hand tight as you make your way through the crowd. One of your hands rest on your round stomach.

Philadelphia is beautiful in the winter. According to Wonwoo his parents live about a five minute walk from the the train station.

He lights up looking around the city called home for most his life. "I used to walk this way to school everyday."

Arriving at the house he grew up in he stops. He looks over at you and gives you a smile. "I always dreamed of bringing the love of my life home to meet my parents."

"Is that what I am?"

"Yes, you're the love of my life, and the mother of my child."

Walking up the lightly snow covered path, you feel slightly anxious. Wonwoo knocks on the door and his mother quickly opens the door. She lights up at the sight of both of you.

His family immediately walk you in with open arms. His mother waste no time pulling you into a hug before taking you inside. Wonwoo watches with the biggest smile on his face. He was already hopelessly in love with you. But seeing you pregnant and glowing with a smile plastered on your face, reminds him that you're truly the love of his life.

You might have not chosen each other, but maybe you were always supposed to end up together.

THE UNLUCKIEST MAN AND HIS LUCKY CHARM

In the bustling city in the height of 1921, you were considered to be the prize many men sought after. The eldest daughter, the golden child of the richest family in New York City. You not only brought a social status, you brought what was believed to be generational wealth with you. Your father’s means of making money have been connected to the dark underbelly of the city. Your father is the richest, and the most feared man in the whole city.

Your whole life you were raised with the intention of being nothing more than a trophy wife. Something for your future husband to show off. This never sat right with you. You dream of a life away from all of this. You dream of truly living your own life. You're hopeful maybe one day you can find true love.

Life hasn’t always been easy for Jeon Wonwoo. He’s been struggling to get by for as long as he can remember. He thought once he graduated and started his career things would be easier. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case, he still feels as if he’s drowning out in the freezing cold Atlantic Ocean.

He spends his days on the university campus teaching, making just enough to get by. His debt started to grow massively after he got sick during college. A bad case of influenza left him out of work struggling to get by. He started gambling to make some money, but it didn't work. He thought he made friends in high places when a man offered to loan him money. That man ended up being one of the higher up men who work for the richest man in the city, your father. The loan was never an act of kindness, it was just as a power play. Your father was known to pray on people in need. He would offer them loans to make the pawns.

One night coming home from work he ran into the man he owed money to. Wonwoo that night finds himself in a position he feared he would end up in. Tied to an expensive leather chair, he’s been beaten with in an inch of his life. The man who controls the city is standing in front of him. He's given an offer he can't turn down.

From that moment on everything changed, not only for him but for you.

-

It's a week after he's been offered life line. He's awoke at five in the morning by your father's goons. Wonwoo is dragged to your family's home to tell you about your impending marriage. His bruising has started to fade. He's left with a light water color of yellows and greens around his eyes. Luckily his glasses help hide it a little. He can't bury the feeling of shame eating away at him.

Early in the morning you're awoken to commotion downstairs.

Crawling out of bed you grab your silk robe. Wrapping it around your body you head down the hallway. You hear more commotion and yelling. Your mother meets you at the top of the stairs. She grabs your hand stopping you. “It’s your father. Please just agree to anything he asks you to do.” What on earth could your father possibly ask you to do at barely six in the morning? “Darling, I just spoke to him. Please don’t fight with him.” Knitting your brows together, you have no clue what is going on.

Practically running down the stairs you find your father and his men in the foyer. The dim light of the chandelier above casting a shadow down on them.

Your bare feet pad down the stairs. You're greeted to the sight of not only your father and his men, but a man you've never seen before. He's clearly sporting two black eyes that are healing and a busted lip.

"Father?"

Your father turns to you, giving you a wicked grin. Your stomach flips, feeling instantly nervous. "Darling, say hello to professor Jeon Wonwoo your soon to be husband."

You knew this day would come. One day your father was going to set you up to marry someone. You thought maybe deep down inside you would have a say in who you married.

"Why him?"

"Because my darling daughter, if you marry him, I will have full control over both of you." You're instantly reminded how evil your father can truly be.

The moment both your eyes lock, you know you must protect each other. He looks just as scared as you are.

"Jack prep the townhouse on fourth street for the soon to newlyweds."

Wonwoo doesn't say anything, he just silently stares at you with a look of sorrow in his eyes. No matter how hard you try you can't stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

"You'll be married in two weeks. You'll move into the townhouse together."

Your father leaves taking his men with him. You're left standing there with the man you're supposed to marry. Reaching up you push away your tears. You want to be mad and blame him, but you can't be. You know he truly had no say in this. He looks just as terrified as you.

A sob breaks in your chest. You fall to the overwhelmed. Silently Wonwoo scrambles over to you. He drops down to his knees in front of you. He hesitates for a moment, before resting his hand on your cheek. Slowly he drags his thumb across the delicate skin of your cheek. Pushing away your tears.

"I'm sorry," you cry.

"This is my fault. You shouldn't be sorry," this is the first time you've heard him speak. His deep voice is soothing.

"Why did he pick you?" You need to know what he's done, so you can try and protect him.

"I owe your father a lot of money."

You push yourself up a little. Looking at him, you try to study his face. He's extremely handsome, even if he is covered in bruises and a busted lip. You can't help but wonder what a professor did to be in debt to your father.

"I'm _____, but a lot of people call me lucky. My mother says it's because I'm a good luck charm."

A smile tugs at his lips. Mindlessly he drags his thumb across you cheek. "I'm going to need a lucky charm."

"Wonwoo, we're a team now. There is no way out of this. We have to get married, but just know I'll be loyal to you."

He knits his brows together. "Loyal?"

"Yes, I'll protect you from my father. Just promise me, you'll try and learn to love me."

Silently he blinks at you a few times, processing your statement. "I will."

A DIAMOND RING AND SADNESS

The wedding your father planned for you is being held in ritzy hotel in the heart of the city. Your vows will be exchanged in ballroom, and the other will host a lavish reception.

When you were younger you always imagined your wedding. You assumed you would walk down the aisle and find the man of your dreams standing there waiting for you. Turns out in the end there stands a man you've known for only two weeks.

Wonwoo is the definition of handsome, and he seems like a great man, but you don't love him, and he doesn't love you. He doesn't even really know you.

Everything about your wedding feels like a blur. The wedding is considered to be the event of the decade. All richest and most elite people are in attendance.

You're dressed in a very elborate white beaded dress. Adorning a long white veil. You've cried more today then you have in your whole life. You manage to gather yourself as your repeat your vows to Wonwoo.

Your eyes stay focused on Wonwoo, trying to tune out the sea of people watching you. Everything feels numb, this is suppose to be the happiest day of your life, and you feel nothing.

"I pronounce you husband and wife." A tear slides down your cheek. Without even thinking Wonwoo reaches out, resting his hand on your cheek. He slowly brushes away your tear as the priest says, "you may now kiss the bride."

Everything feels silent, the whole room feels as if the oxygen has been sucked out. Wonwoo is completely still. He's just silently staring at you, almost as if he's asking for permission. Your lips part slightly, taking in a small breath. He leans in a little closer. This feels like a like a lifetime, when in all reality maybe thirty seconds has passed.

Closing your eyes he leans in all the way. Your lips touch for the first time, and this isn't some spark filled moment. It's just a moment between two sad people fighting for their lives, and trying their hardest to protect each other.

Pulling away his hand still lingers on your cheek. The room erupts into deafening cheers, but you can openly focus on the man staring back at you.

Taking your hand he turns you both so you're facing the crowd. There in the front row is your father's menacing presences. He watches both you and Wonwoo with a calculated look. Wonwoo squeezes your hand capturing your attention. He leads you down the aisle. Everyone cheers and claps applauding what they think is a happily newly wed couple.

The moment you're out of the ballroom, he pulls you off to the dressing room you got ready in. He never lets go of your hand. He locks the door and you both stand there for a moment, just silently staring at each other. Without even thinking you throw yourself into him. Your wraps your arms around his waist and cling to him.

Your chest shake, as a sob threatens to break. "It's okay." He says softly, his hand running up and down your back, helping to soothe you.

"I'm sorry." You cry.

"You don't need to be sorry, I'm sorry, lucky." Him calling you lucky, makes you smile, even while you're crying.

"It's almost over." He whispers.

"It's not though, we still have the reception."

There is a pounding on the door. Pulling away from Wonwoo you look at the door. "Mr and Mrs. Jeon, you're being called." You here the familiar voice of one of your fathers men, Tae.

"Mrs. Jeon?" You repeat loud enough for just the two of you to hear.

"I'm sorry." He's said this so many times since that early morning you met.

"Enough, we can't keep apologizing." You pull away from him. You brush the front of your bead encrusted dress.

His brows knit together. He pulls his wired frame cheaters off. You watch him silently for a moment.

There is another knock on the door. "One moment," Wonwoo yells.

Wonwoo laces his fingers with yours, leading you out of the powder room. The entry way to the ballrooms is sparse with people. Everyone is inside waiting for you.

The two door men open the doors. The ballroom is lively with jazz music and a sea of people. The moment the crowd is made aware of your entrance everyone cheers as Wonwoo leads you inside.

Soon food is passed around and you're both dragged on to the dance floor. You cling to Wonwoo, swaying to the beat of the jazz music.

"Lucky." He says loud enough just for you to hear.

"Yes?"

"We'll figure this out."

Without thinking you lean up and press your lips to his for a quick kiss, earning applause from the crowd.

It's not long before your father leads you around introducing you to influential people. Wonwoo takes a chance to step away, claiming he needed to speak to the dean from his university, who is attending the wedding.

He stands by the dean attempting to listen to him. He’s more focused on watching as you talk to who he assumes is your best friend. He sees you light up for the first time. The way you smile as you speak to her is absolutely mesmerizing. He can’t help but smile as he watches you. You’re absolutely beautiful, any man would be lucky to share this day with you. Hopefully one day you’ll light up like that for him.

Wonwoo makes small talk with the dean before he finds Mingyu standing on the balcony. His friend is leaning against the railing smoking a cigarette.

Mingyu puffs out a cloud of smoke. He reaches into his suit jacket pocket pulling out his carton of cigarettes. Wonwoo grabs one. Mingyu lights a match holding it out towards him.

"Does your wife care if you smoke?" Mingyu asks before taking another puff.

"I'm not sure." Wonwoo stares at the cigarette before taking a hit. He takes a long deep breath inhaling the bitter smoke.

"I can't believe you're married." Mingyu was shocked when Wonwoo told him about his impending marriage.

"It wasn't either of our choice." He takes another hit. Wonwoo leans against the railing. He looks into the busy ballroom. He watches as your father parades you around.

"Do you like her?" Mingyu nudges him.

"I could. We don't know each other yet."

"Do you already carry a torch for her?" Mingyu can't help but smile.

Wonwoo focuses on you, barely hearing anything Mingyu is saying. "It's a crush."

"A crush?"

"She's beautiful, and kind." He barely knows you, but he can tell you're beautiful inside and out.

"You sound like a like a love sick fool." Mingyu drops his cigarette on the floor, and steps on it.

"Knock it off." Wonwoo nudges his friend.

"I didn't tell you, you clean up nice, you look spiffy."

The doors open and you step outside. Mingyu smiles over at Wonwoo before he bows to you. "You look beautiful Mrs. Jeon." Mingyu can't miss an opportunity to tease his best friend.

"Thank you." You bow your head a little.

Mingyu gives you a bow before heading back inside. You step closer to your new husband. Your nose scrunches at the scent of his cigarette. Immediately he drops to the floor.

"Not a fan of smoking?"

"No, my father smokes." That's all you need to tell him.

"I won't smoke around you."

You move so you're leaning against the railing next to him. He reaches over, lacing his fingers with yours.

"We can leave in an hour, my father told Jack to have a car waiting outside for us. We're going to our new town house."

Wonwoo doesn't know much about the house your father set up. He just knows it's property your father owns. From what little he knows, he does know it's located on the fancier side of town.

"How many rooms is the town house?"

"Two, they've fully furnished it for us. One room was turned into an office for you." He knits his brow together. He didn't expect you to give him space for an office.

"Is Mingyu upset you're moving out?"

"I think he's pleased he'll have the place to himself ."

"Is it safe to say Mingyu is a lounge lizard?"

Wonwoo bites his bottom lip holding back a smile. "The ladies love Mingyu."

You want to ask him about his past with women, but you aren't sure if that would be crossing a line. "Do the ladies love you?"

He lets the corners of his mouth turn up, with an small smile. "Not nearly as much as Mingyu."

"You aren't a lounge lizard?"

"No."

"Oh." A silence takes over. Nothing is said as you both watch the party unfolding on the other side of the glass.

"I'm not some ladies man, who chases women."

You look over him. He looks so embarrassed. "It's okay if you were."

The door opens and your mother pops out. "Come back inside, people are asking where the bride and groom are."

Your fingers are laced together the rest of the time you spend at your wedding. You're putting on quite the show for the guest. From the outside looking in, it appears you are a couple who has been together for a while. The constant touching, and the not so subtle longing looks between the two of you.

Once it's finally time to call it a night, the band plays you out as you make your grand exit. Your father has a car waiting for you. Wonwoo drives the two of you away from the luxurious hotel. Your guest cheer as you drive away.

The whole way home Wonwoo keeps glancing over at you. Nothing is said between you the whole drive.

Arriving at your new shared home, Wonwoo helps you out of the car. Walking up the couple of steps to the door, Wonwoo is right behind you. You freeze staring at the door. You always imagined on your wedding day your husband would carry you over the threshold.

Wonwoo steps next to you, and reaches out unlocking the front door. Walking in slowly, you realize this is your new home. Stepping inside behind you, Wonwoo locks the door. He looks around and see a fully furnished home for you. This place is nicer then the place he shares with Mingyu near the university. You've grown up with two different tax brackets. The couch near the window looks to be an expensive Italian leather.

You walk away from him. You must know the layout of this place. You head up stairs and head off to the bedroom. Wonwoo follows behind you.

Wonwoo is suddenly aware that this place only has one bedroom with a bed in it.

Heading off to the en-suite bathroom you struggle to remove your dress. Wonwoo hears your struggling and peaks his head in. You immediately notice the absences of most his clothing, he's just in his dress pants. You can't help it as your eyes wander his torso. It takes everything in you not to reach out and touch the outline of his abs. Your face flushes with embarrassment instantly.

"Are you okay?"

"I need help." You sound completely defeated.

He steps close to you. Hesitatingly he reaches out. He takes his time unbuttoning the buttons that run up your spine. He works cautiously, he's trying to make this as easy on you as possible.

The final button is undone, he looks away and steps back trying to give you privacy.

"I can sleep on the couch." He knows there isn't another bed here.

The beaded dress falls to the floor, leaving you standing in a pool of fabric. You're left standing there in your silk white undergarments.

"I would prefer I don't spend my wedding night alone in bed."

Wonwoo catches sight of your exposed body through mirror. His cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turn red. He's seen his fair share of women even more exposed than this, but this feel incredibly more intimate.

Wonwoo doesn't know much about you, but something tells him that you're very much a virgin. The way you reacted to his bare torso.

Laying in bed you can't help but feel sad. You always imagined your honeymoon would be some, grand romantic night. You always thought this wojld be the night you lose your virginity. Instead you find yourself laying in bed fully dressed in a nightgown staring at a man you barely know.

He looks just as sad and hollow as you do. His lips part as he goes to say something, but nothing comes out.

Reaching out, you rest your hand next to him. Tears slowly slide down your cheek, landing on the cotton sheets below you.

"Wonwoo?"

"Yes?"

"We have to protect each other."

"I'll do anything to keep you safe." He reaches out, pulling your body close to his. He doesn't say anything else as you fall asleep crying in his arms.

NOTHING IS EASY ABOUT FALLING IN LOVE

A week into being married and it feels as if you're just roommates. Wonwoo has work at the university five or six days a week, and you find yourself spending time alone more often than not.

Your days at home are spent attempting to find a hobby. Before all of this you had a passion for painting. You've found yourself most days setting up an esel and painting in front of the living room window.

It's normally quite late by the time Wonwoo arrives home from the university campus. You've tried to have a home cooked meal waiting for him every night. You hope that maybe having dinner together every night can help build your relationship.You learned very quickly that you still don't know much about each other. You were strangers thrown together, and even with the little time that had passed he still practically feels like a stranger.

You've learned his mother and father live in a different state. Wonwoo only moved here for college and to work at the university. You've learned that Mingyu is the closest thing he has to a family in the city.

After a few late nights of Wonwoo coming home, you're terrified he's off in a speakeasy gambling or possibly seeing someone else. You're not able to protect him from your father if he keeps losing money, or if he's having an affair.

It's close to ten at night when Wonwoo finally arrives at home. You're sitting on the couch with a book in your lap. Wonwoo comes in looking deshevled and exhausted. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his tie is loosened.

He's startled at the sight of you waiting up for him. "You waited up for me?"

"I was concerned about where you were."

"It's Mingyu's birthday. I stopped by his place to have dinner with him and Soonyoung."

"Oh." You close the book and stand up. "I would have appreciated if you let me know if you won't be home for dinner. I spent an hour cooking. I even waited up for you."

"I didn't think you would care if I missed dinner." He sighs, dropping briefcase down on the floor.

Taking a deep breath you stand up. You refuse to be stuck in a strained marriage, just like your parents. "Wonwoo, I understand that we didn't chose this marriage, but I desperately want to try and make this work."

He pushes his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Okay."

"So, please just communicate with me." Your eyes brim with tears. Your emotions and stress are getting the best of you.

His stomach twist seeing you, once again upset, because of him.

"I'm sorry." He steps closer to you.

"I should get some sleep." You're exhausted and you don't want to have this conversation anymore.

Laying in bed you stare at the door. You wish more than anything Wonwoo would walk through it, and join you in bed. Since your wedding night you've slept fully alone. Wonwoo has been sleeping on the living room couch. Your bedroom, you are supposed to share feels lonely. He only comes in here when he needs to get clothing from the closet.

The longer you stare at the door the more you start to cry. You cry yourself to sleep once again.

Walking out of the bedroom in the morning you're greeted to the sound of a silent home. You already know Wonwoo is gone before you reach the living room. In the kitchen you find a letter in a cream envelope with "My Dearest" written on the front.

Opening the letter you immediately feel your heart squeezes at the sight of Wonwoo's penmanship.

My Dearest,

I want to apologize for being so distant. I'm aware that all your troubles have been because of me. I sincerely want to be a better man. I want to learn to be a good husband, and learn to fall in love with you. I know before this we didn't know each other, and because of my disgressions in life, you're now tied to me. I want to make a promise to you, I'll try my hardest to make this work. I have stopped gambling, and have stayed away from anything related to your father. I want to prove to you, that I can be a good man. The one thing I ask for time, please let me learn to navigate all this.

I do have one last request, have dinner with me tomorrow night.

Always,

Wonwoo

You hope that he's being truthful about wanting to grow and be a better man, and that he truly does want to learn to fall in love with you. The idea of being stuck in a loveless marriage is terrifying to you. You've seen too many people you know get stuck in those types of marriage.

Wonwoo is true to his word. At six pm sharp he walks through the front door. He find you standing in front of the window working on a painting.

"Hello." He says pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Hello." You turn away from your painting. "I made dinner earlier, we just need to heat it up. I thought soup would be nice, after a cold day."

Wonwoo heads off to the closet that's near the door, and hangs up his coat. Heading off to the kitchen and start putting the soup back on the stove. Aimlessly you stir the soup. Wonwoo's foot steps catch your attention.

Wonwoo silently starts setting the table to the two of you. You glance up at him, slowly stirring the soup.

"It smells delicious." He says glancing over at you.

"Do you mind bringing the bowls in here, so I can dish us?"

He brings you two bowls, you pour the savory soup, serving both of you. Wonwoo walks them back to the table.

Sitting at the table you watch him slowly eat. He's such a handsome man, you can't imagine women didn't chase after him. "Wonwoo?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever courted someone before?"

"Yes." He suddenly feels embarrassed and he doesn't know why. "Have you ever been courted?"

"I was secretly seeing someone once." You were so young and naive back then. You were barely twenty-one when you started an innocent affair with one of your father's men.

"Who was it?" He suddenly feels jealous at the idea of someone being with you. He hates this feeling. He has absolutely no right to feel this way.

"Johnny, one of my fathers men."

"Oh." That's definitely not what he wanted to hear.

"Nothing happened, we never consummated our relationship or anything like that. I ran away before anything could happen." That was back when you desperately wanted to escape this life.

"You ran away?" He had absolutely no idea you ran away.

"It was back when I was twenty-one. I had enough of how controlling my father was. Honestly it's a story for a different time." You still remember the fear you lived in while you were on the run.

Wonwoo wants to ask you more questions, but can immediately tell this is a touchy subject. "Okay, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

You both silently eat together for a little bit. Even though neither of you are really saying much, it's just nice to have company. You can't take this feeling of being alone.

"Wonwoo?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for the letter."

"It's the least I could do." He sets his spoon down. He gives you a sad smile. "I know I'm the reason things haven't been easy for you. I promise I'm going to try my best."

"I appreciate that. I meant it when I said, we're a team. As along as you are trying that's all I ask "

He reaches out and takes your hand. This is the first time he's properly touched your, since your wedding night. He bring the top of your hand to his lips, and presses a soft kiss there.

Tonight might just be a small step in the right direction, but at least things are changing.

Things after that night feel like they’re heading in the right direction. Wonwoo makes sure he's home for dinner. He’s actively getting to know you. You’ve learned so much about him.

On Sundays you’ve even started going for evening strolls together. You look forward to any time you get to spend by his side. Even if you weren’t forced together, you feel as if Wonwoo is someone you would have easily fallen for. You often wonder if he feels the same about you.

You’re hopeful things will keep going smoothly.

THE MARRIED VIRGIN

It's been four long months of marriage. You thought maybe things would get easier the longer you have been married. But it turns out they haven't. The threat of your father hanging over your head, while you're attempting to make your marriage work, hasn't been easy. Wonwoo has gotten so much better at communicating, and he's gone out of his way to work on getting to know you.

The true issue other then the ever looming threat of your father hanging over your head is, the fact Wonwoo won't share a bed with you. Wonwoo sleeping on the couch is starting to drive you mad. You’ve been married for four months and he won’t even touch you, other then a holding your hand or a kiss on the cheek. He is so respectful of you and polite you can’t even be mad. He's been a gentleman in every sense of the word. The fact that you're a married woman and still a virgin is maddening.

You've decided to spend this Saturday morning shopping with your best friend. She's mentioned needing to find a dress for an upcoming party her and Joshua, her husband are attending.

Looking through dresses hanging on the wall you're listening to her ramble on about nonsensical things. Her newest fascination is the fact that Wonwoo won't touch you in any sort of romantic way.

"Four months and you're still virgin?" Jewel sounds appalled at the idea of you still being untouched.

Your best friend Jewel has given you pointers on how to seduce your husband, but your inexperience with men, has left you too shy to try. You've heard about all the dirty details about her sexual escapades with her husband Joshua.

"It's not from lack of trying on my part. It's a delicate subject. I'm not sure how to approach him with the idea, that I would like to consummate our marriage." Your face is bright with embarrassment.

"Lucky, you just need to tell him. Tell him being a married virgin is strange."

The door to the store opens and you pay no mind to it as you look through the beautiful dresses. Someone clears their throat and you turn around to see one of your father's men Tae standing there.

"Miss, your father sent me to give you this." He holds out an expensive looking envelope with a gold wax seal on it. He hands one to you and one to Jewel.

He stands there waiting for you to open it. Pealing away the seal you find an invitation for art auction. Your father has been known to host these, you just didn't expect him to have one of his men give you a personal invite.

"Your father has requested you and your husband Mr. Jeon attend." Your stomach twist at him mentioning Wonwoo your father is up to something, but you aren't sure what.

Jewel is standing next to your protectively. "Tae, how did you find us?" Jewel grew up down the street from Tae so she has no problem sassing him.

"Mrs. Jeon's father is friends with the owner of this store." You glance up at the store owner to see him intently watching your conversation.

Shoving the invitation back in the envelope you glance up at Tae. You aren't sure what your father has up his sleeve, but he's playing some sort of game, you'll play along.

Tae leaves and you're left feeling uneasy. Jewel can immediately tell the day has been soured. "Should we call it day?"

"Yes, I should speak to Wonwoo."

Walking into your home you find Wonwoo in the living room. He’s standing in front of the window holding a book watching the rain fall. He’s dressed in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. He seems more distracted than normal today.

“Wonwoo,” you say, earning his attention.

“Hi,” he closes the book and turns to fully face you.

“We have an event we have to attend,” you hold out your invitation that Tae dropped while you were shopping downtown with Jewel.

He pads across the living room and takes the invitation. His eyes brows knit together as he intently reads it.

“Why are we invited to an art auction?”

“I don’t know what his game plan is,” you sigh. Your father always has something up his sleeve. He’s always ten steps ahead of you. “I just don’t trust him. He has something planned.”

“What happened when you ran away?” Wonwoo asked, sitting down on the couch. You never planned on telling anyone about your attempt to run away. You realized after getting married, you can't keep secrets from Wonwoo. The only way you can keep each other safe, is if you're both open and honest.

You take a deep breath remembering the night you finally had enough and called Seokmin to help pack your bags while you attempt to get out of the state. “My father had someone find me.”

You shiver thinking about the constant fear you lived in waiting to be found. You finally had enough of being controlled and left in the middle of the night. With money you had been saving you ran away. You got to a different state. Your original plan was to get a new identity and start over, but you never got that far.

“Who found you?”

“Johnny." You vividly remember him breaking down the door to the apartment you were in. You had a short fling with Johnny before your father sent him to track him down. He didn’t think twice about turning his back on you to listen to your father.

“Did he hurt you,” he gently rests his hand on your thigh.

“No he didn’t. I knew what he was capable of, I didn’t give him the chance to even hurt me." Johnny might have cared for you before you left, but the moment you ran away you became nothing more than a job to him. "I made it to Chicago when he tracked me down."

“Were you planning on leaving again before that night you met me?”

“I wanted to, that’s why my father forced you to marry me. My father needed me to have someone who could be collateral damage for any mistakes I could make. You’re meant to anchor me here. If I leave he’ll kill you and not think twice about it.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. The heavy feeling in your chest hasn’t left you since Wonwoo arrived at your family home, early that morning many months back.

“It’s not your fault. I got myself into this situation too.”

“You stopped gambling right?” you ask praying he didn’t get himself into any more of a mess.

“I stopped. I try to avoid anything connected to your father at all costs. I hasn't step foot in a speakeasy since that night." He pushes his fingers through his dark hair. “If you want to try and run away again I’ll go with you and we can try to fully disappear again.” At this point Wonwoo would do anything to keep you safe.

You can’t believe he just offered to risk his life for you. You couldn’t ever ask him to put his life on the line for you like that. You know you could never fully disappear. Once Johnny or Tae did find you, they would make sure they killed Wonwoo in front of you.

“We can’t do that Wonwoo, I care about you too much for you to risk your life for me.”

“We’re a team right?” He says leaning in before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah we’re a team.” Closing your eyes you lean into his touch. You’ve fallen hard for your husband, you pray he feels the same way towards you. “Wonwoo—" You want to ask him to sleep in your room. There is a desperate feeling you have, to share some sort of intimacy with him. Even if it’s just sharing a bed and sleeping near him. “Please stop sleeping in the living room. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

Looking at you he cocks his head to the side as his eyebrows knit together. “Is that something you truly want?”

“Yes. I fully understand if you want to stay out here. But we’re married and I don’t really see you as just my roommate." You're putting yourself on the line here.

“I’ve tried really hard to be respectful because you didn’t choose me. It’s not like I was courting you before.” He reaches out, taking your hand. You move so you’re facing him sitting on the couch next to him.

“I might not have chosen you, but I care about you and I have feelings for you. I would like to be your wife, not just on paper.”

“Lucky, I would like to be your actual husband not just in name,” he whispers leaning forward.

“Okay good,” your nose brushes against his.

Leaning forward your lips touch for the first time since your wedding night. His soft lips are gentle for the first part of the kiss. He pulls away with his lips barely away from yours. “I have wanted to kiss you for so long, He whispers. You crash your lips into his for a heated kiss. You kiss him like you need him to breathe. He’s the air that fills your lungs in the suffocating ocean your father has brought you into.

He grabs your hips pulling you onto his lap. His hand rests on your soft sides as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“You’re so pretty,” he says.

"Wonwoo—" You're quite inexperienced in most aspects of a sexual relationship. You and Johnny did fool around some back in the day, but you are still very much a virgin.

"Yes?" He pulls back a little bit.

"I'm a virgin." Your face immediately flushes. You shouldn't feel embarrassed admitting that, but for some reason you are. You stomach knots as he just blankly stares at you for a long moment.

The corners of his lips, tug into a smile. "Sweetheart, that's fine. You have nothing to be embarrassed about." He reaches up, resting his hand on your cheek. "I'll take care of you."

He drags his thumb across your bottom lip. Your lips part slightly, as your stare at him with lust filled eyes. "We should move to the bedroom."

Crawling off of him, you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. His lips move against your as he slowly works on removing all the delicate layers of your clothes.

Laying on the bed completely bare you watch him, slowly take off if his own clothes. His glasses have been discarded, they're sitting in the dresser. His eyes stayed locked on you only focused on you as he strips away his clothes.

You've never properly seen a man naked before, but you know just by the glorious sight of his naked body, Wonwoo is no average man. His abs that line his stomach are absolutely mouth watering. The small trial of hair that leads down his navel to the promise land, leaves you awestruck. His cock is much bigger then you expected. It's a large and girthy. His length is a rosy color, and it curves up slightly. Maybe another time, you'll take your time exploring his body.

Wonwoo crawls on the bed slowly. You expect him to move so he's hovering over you. You're caught off guard when he lays down in front of you, with his face right in front of your needy core.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you look down at him confused. You know Jewel has mentioned Joshua is a fan of cunnilingus, but she said not all men like it.

Wonwoo places a kiss on top of your mound. Your eyes are blown wide, unsure of what to expect. "Wonwoo?"

"Yes darling?"

"What are you doing?"

"It's your first time, I need to prepare you." What does he mean, prepare you? "I want you to have at least one orgasm, before you can take me." He slowly runs his pointer finger through your wet folds. "Have you ever had an orgasm before?"

Your face burns with embarrassment thinking about the few times you've touched yourself, and the one time you found your release rutting against Johnny's thigh.

"Yes."

"Relax and let me take care of you."

Leaning in close he starts, lazily licking your sensitive clit, while he toy with your entrance.

"You taste so sweet," he moans against your clit.

Your finger grip the cotton sheets below. He sucks on your clit like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

Dropping back down to the bed, you moan out. Your fingers grip the sheets, desperately trying to ground yourself.

You can't help but squirm as you suck in your tummy. All the senses in your body are on high alert.

"Won—" you can't think of any other words then his name, in that moment.

He moans against your pussy, the vibration pushing you over the cliff. You free fall in the deep abyss. Your walls flutter around his fingers like a heartbeat.

He pulls away with a lazy smile, and his eyes half lidded. He wiped your release off with his fingers. Sticking them in his mouth he licks your sweet release off.

"You sound so pretty when you cum."

He moves so he's sitting on his knees, between your spread legs. Your chest rises and falls, your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. Wonwoo's strong hand rubs your thigh, helping to soothe you. "Are you okay to keep going? We can stop if you're not ready for more."

Desperately you reach for him. You can't bare for him to stop once you've had him. "please, I need you."

He nods. "Okay, darling."

He moves so he's hovering over you. Reaching between you, he takes his length in hand. He runs bulbous tip through your wet folds, collecting some of your release.

"This might hurt a little. If it hurts too much or you're uncomfortable, please tell me."

He enters you at an excruciatingly slow pace. Pushing in inch by inch, giving you a chance to adjust to the sheer sizes of him. The feeling of him stretching you, is like nothing you've ever experienced.

He fills you to the brim, practically kissing your cervix. He holds completely still, sitting on his knees, hovering over you. One of your hands holds his shoulder needing something to ground yourself.

"How does it feel?" He asks.

"Strange, it kinda of hurts, but not in a bad way."

"We can stop."

"I don't want to."

Reaching out, he laces his fingers with yours. he pins your hand, next to your head. Leaning down he connects his lips to yours for an intoxicating kiss. His tongue slides across you bottom lip, asking for access. Your tongues move together, helping to distract you, as Wonwoo slowly starts to move.

The first few shallow thrust feel strange. With each slow movement your body starts adjusting more and more.

"You feel so good." He moans against your lips.

Tangling your fingers in his hair you hold his face close to yours. "oh—" your moan is nothing more than a breathy whimper.

"You're doing so good." Hearing him praise you, does something to you.

With each slow thrust the pain starts to dissipate. The steady feeling of pleasure starts to take over.

"Feels good." The coil in your stomach starts to tighten.

Nose rest against yours. "Can you cum again?"

Wordlessly you nod.

"You're doing so good." He repeats. This thrust have grown deeper and steadier.

Your breathing feels shaky as you approach the edge of the cliff. Every thrust brings you a step closer.

Your eyes roll back, and your body free falls into the icy cold abyss. This orgasm feels like nothing you have experienced before. Your walls flutter around his length, that doesn't stop moving. Moaning his name loudly you squeeze his hand that is pining yours to the bed.

"Wonwoo—" you cry.

"Fuck." He swears with a moan.

"You're squeezing me." His thrust have lost their rhythm. His own release is rapidly approaching."I'm going to cum, where should I?" He's on the brink of falling apart.

The logical part of your brain should tell him to pull out, that you haven't discussed children. But that part of your brain isn't in charge right now. Your fingers cling to his back as your practically cry. "Inside."

He picks up his pace, chasing his high. He moans your name like a sinful prayer as he paints your walls with his milky release. He ruts his hips into your, helping each of you, ride out your high.

He drops down to his elbows, he's practically plastered against you. Every aspect of him, feels so consuming to you. Reaching up, you run your fingers through his dark hair.

"Did I hurt you?" He doesn't think he could live with himself if he hurt you.

"No, I'm a little sore, but that was wonderful."

Leaning down he presses his lips to yours. You want to say the three words out loud that are stuck in your throat, but you can't. Not until you're sure he feels the same way.

"I need to clean you up." He pulls away from you. You want to beg him not to leave, but you know he's trying to take care of you.

He leaves the room long enough to come back with a wet cloth to clean you up. Laying the bed he takes his time wiping away his release that slowly leaking out of you.

"We've never discussed having children." He says looking at your core.

"I know."

"I've always wanted to be a father." He knits his brows together and looks away from you.

"I think you would be a good father." Wonwoo is kind, caring and very intelligent. His one flaw is gambling issue, that he's seemed to have gotten under control.

"Do you want to be a mother?"

You can't help but smile. "I would like to be one."

Wonwoo disposes the cloth, before he crawls into bed with you. He pulls you close to him. You're both still naked, neither of you have a desire to get dressed. Your head rest on his chest. Gently he rubs your side helping to soothe you to sleep. For the first time in a longtime, you no longer feel lonely.

-

The day of the art auction, you can't get rid of the anxious feeling eating away at you. It's a Saturday so luckily Wonwoo has the day off. He's sitting in the living room reading a book while you're on the verge of a panic picking a dress to wear.

You settle on an emerald beaded gown. You call for Wonwoo, needing his help to button your dress. He walks in and is immediately taken a back at how beautiful you are.

He takes his time individually buttoning the back of your dress. Finishing up, he steps back to admire how beautiful you are.

"You're so beautiful."

"Thank you. You should get dressed."

Wonwoo heads off and gets dressed in his three piece suit you got him. He looks absolutely incredible my handsome. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You eyes roam his body.

"Were quite the pair Mr. Jeon."

"It helps that Mrs. Jeon is gorgeous."

Arriving at the ballroom. There is a lavish entry filled with the richest and the most elite people in the city. Wonwoo takes your hand, leading you past the sea people.

A jazz band plays on stage. Looking around you see paintings lining the wall with people staring at them.

You catch sight of Joshua and Jewel speaking with one of Joshua's friends Seungkwan. Wonwoo releases your hand long enough to to track you down something to drink.

Jewel grabs your arm leading you away from the boys. "You look beautiful." She says to you, leading you towards the paintings that line the wall.

Your heart sinks staring at the black and white paintings. They're all reminiscent of the street in Chicago you ran away to. There a few details that leave you absolutely sick. Walking closer to you see red paint splattered in some, that resembles blood, and another has a pair of broken glasses, that look exactly like Wonwoo's

Instinctively your hand clutches your pearl necklace. Your eyes are wide as your try not to cry. This art auction is truly nothing more then a warning to you from your father.

"Lucky?" Jewel immediately knows something is wrong.

"I need my husband." Turning on your heels you speed walk over to Wonwoo.

You practically throw yourself into his arms. He can immediately tell you're extremely upset. He looks at the paintings where you just were. He releases you and pulls back. His hand rest on your cheek. The slow drag of his thumb acrossed your delicate skin, is helping to soothe you.

"What's wrong?"

"The painting are a message to me." Pulling away you search for your father, but he's nowhere to be seen.

It's clear your father wants to play a game, and you're not a about to become a a pawn again.

The band plays a song loudly. You look around and find Jewel and Joshua standing near. Wonwoo's hand is protectively on your back.

There is about an hour you play the role of the socialite. You lead Wonwoo around to speaking to old friends, and people connected to your family. Everyone is very interested and learning about your new husband and his job as a professor. The whole time you're making your rounds you watch out for your father close circle of men. You know if you spot Johnny, Tae or Jack your father is near.

Wonwoo leans in close and whispers in your ear, "your father is here."

Looking across the room you see your father for the first time. You know your mother and sister are somewhere here, but you don't have time to look for them.

"Wonwoo stay here." You lean up to give him a quick kiss.

He looks over his glasses and finds your father intently watching both of you. "I can go with you."

"No. Let me handle him." You step away from him, but before you can get more then a step away he pulls you back. You can tell by the look in his eyes, he's scared just like you are. "Wonwoo, I'll be okay."

He doesn't say anything, he just leans down and presses his lips to yours. "I'll be waiting for you."

Taking a deep breath you make your way across the crowded room.

"Father." You walk up to him. The man standing next to him in and expensive suit takes this as his sign to walk away.

"My darling daughter. It's clear your husband is already keen on you." Your father's eyes are locked on Wonwoo while he stands next to Jewel and Joshua.

"He's a good husband."

"You're fooling nobody. It's clear you've fallen in love with him. Seems he's serving his propose already." His words are menacing.

"His purpose?" You need to play dumb, so your father shows his hand.

"If you love him, you'll do anything you can to keep him safe. If you leave, I'll make him suffer, while you watch." His hand grips your heart, and he squeezes tighter and tighter with each pointed word.

"Leave him alone." Each one of your words is pointed.

"As long as you behave, nothing will happen to your husband."

"I'm not going to run again. I have him, and I'm happy. Leave us alone."

Your father lets out a little laugh. "You know Wonwoo has some good genes. He's handsome, and extremely intelligent. His only issue is his eye sight, and him wearing those cheaters." His eyes are locked on Wonwoo. "I would love grandchildren. Maybe I should tell your husband that it's time to make you a mother." Bile starts to crawl up your throat. If you have children one day, you want to keep them far away from your father.

"Leave him alone."

"Maybe marriage wasn't good for you. Suddenly you think you're able to talk back to me."

"Stop it." You've had enough of his threatening words.

"You should find your mother. She's been looking for you all night."

"Goodbye father." You step away.

"Just remember, even if you love him, that won't stop me from using him to keep you in line."

With each step you take, you fight to hold back tears. Looking up you see Wonwoo watching you. As he goes to take a step, you shake your head. You don't want him anywhere close to your father.

Jewel and Joshua watch as you rush to Wonwoo. The second you're close enough he grabs your hand, pulling you toward him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you bury your face in his chest. Desperately you try and fight back tears. You pull away from him slowly. He rests his hand on your cheek. He drags his thumb across the delicate skin on your cheek.

"We should leave." You can't stay here any longer.

"Lucky, are you okay?" Joshua seems just as concerned as his wife.

"Mr. Jeon." You're father's menacing voice echoes behind you.

Wonwoo pulls back a little, dropping your hand. His eyes stayed locked on your, you can instantly see he's scared. Reaching down you grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"Sir." Wonwoo responds.

Your fathers give him a menacing smile, stepping closer. "Do you like the art?"

Squeezing his hand, you let him know he's not alone. "it's quite unique."

"I found an artist who is great at drawing cities."

"So it seems." Wonwoo responds.

"Have you ever been to Chicago?" Your father mentioning the name of the city you ran away to sends a chill down your spine.

"No sir."

"I've heard it's beautiful, you should ask my daughter about it."

The loud room instantly feels silent. A ringing takes over you ears. You stomach knots, staring at your father.

Wonwoo squeezes your hand, snapping you out of it. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"I don't think that's necessary." Wonwoo says.

Shame suddenly takes over you. You feel incredibly small under the crushing gaze your father is giving you. Whatever sick and twisted game he wants to play, he's winning.

Tae walks over capturing your fathers attention. He whispers something in his ear.

"I must take my leave. Lucky, tell your husband about Chicago." He walks away, leaving you feeling sick.

Stepping back, you hold back your tears. Wonwoo doesn't let you go far. He desperately clings to your had.

"Lucky." Jewel rushes towards you, with Joshua right behind her.

"Do you want to go home?" Wonwoo asked.

"Yes, I'm ready to leave." He just bibs his farewell and leads you out of the ballroom.

You flee with the party, clinging to your husband. You desperately want to escape this personal hell, your father has made for you.

The whole ride home Wonwoo doesn't try to make small talk, his silence is comforting.

Arriving at home Wonwoo takes his time to help unbotton your dress. Once the last button is undone, he presses his lips to your bare shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He knows it's a loaded question.

"No, but I will be."

TEAR STAINED CHEEKS AND SWEET KISSES

Six months into marriage things between you and Wonwoo are fantastic. You've fallen head over heels more and more in love with him.

He does anything he possibly can do to make you happy. There is a little part of him that is constantly reminding, that in some way he will let you down. He's known for awhile at some point he's going to need to take the train back home to see his family. In an ideal situation, he would be able to take you with him. He knows deep down inside he can't.

After a long day at work, Wonwoo finds you painting in the living room. Painting has consumed your free time. Wonwoo often finds you like this after work. He loves watching you paint. You seem so incredibly happy when you're lost in your painting.

"Hi, my dearest."

You turn and find him standing there looking so handsome. In these last few months you haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself. You just can't get enough of him.

"I need to take a trip home to see my parents." That wasn't what you expected him to say.

"Oh?"

"I would love for them to meet you, I'm just worried if you go, your father will assume we're up to something." Wonwoo tries to act strong when it comes to anything involving your father, but you know he's just as terrified as you.

"Are you asking me to stay home?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I'll only be gone a week. I asked Mingyu to keep an eye on you, as well as Joshua and Jewel." Your face falls, and Wonwoo feels his stomach twist. He can't stand seeing you sad.

"Wonwoo I don't like the idea of staying home." You aren't used to being alone anymore.

He rushes over to you. "I know, I hate it too. I'm just scared of you go with me, your father will follow us."

"When do you leave?"

"In a week. I'm going to take the train to Philly."

"Okay."

"Lucky, please don't be mad. I'm trying to keep us safe."

"I want to meet your family." You hate the idea that Wonwoo's family wasn't even at his wedding. They have no idea what you're like. Apart of you is terrified they'll hate you for bringing Wonwoo into your mess of a family.

"I want you to meet them too. We just need to wait."

"Wonwoo do they know why we got married?"

He pushes your hair behind your ear. "No, I just told them I fell in love with you. That we had a whirlwind romance and I begged you to marry me."

"When did you tell them that?"

"That week I wrote you that letter. I sent them a letter telling them about our marriage."

You try to go about your night normally, but the aching feeling in your chest still lingers. Even married your father continues to control your life. A normal married couple would be able to travel to see their in laws, but you simply can not do that.

Laying in bed you stare at the wall. No matter how hard you try, you can't stop the tears from falling. The bathroom door opens, and Wonwoo steps into the bedroom.

There is a long beat of silence before Wonwoo slides into bed. Without saying a word, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your body close to his. He presses his lips to the exposed delicate skin on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He hates that he keeps hurting you.

"It's not your fault, it's my fathers fault."

"I still hurt you though. I want you to meet my family."

"I know."

He hand kneads your stomach, helping to relax you. "I love you." He says those three words you've been dying to say for months.

"I love you too."

Mindlessly he starts kissing the side of you neck. Soft moans pass your lips, as he focuses on the sensitive area under your ear.

"Darling, can you lay on your back for me?"

He pulls away, giving you space to move. Laying on your back, you look over at him. He sits on his knees, he takes a moment to pull off his shirt. This body is mouth watering. Recently you can't seem to get enough of him. Pushing yourself up, you pull off your night gown. Lifting your hips, you shimmy out of your panties. You're left laying on the bed completely bare.

Wonwoo hops off the bed long enough to remove his pants. He's already hard, his large lenght is already leaking.

Slowly he crawls onto the bed towards you. He takes his time lowering himself onto the bed in front of you. Leaving a trail of wet kisses across your inner thigh.

Hw kisses the top of your mound before he dives in, like a man straved. He knows exactly what you need to push you over the edge. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close. Without even thinking your hips rut towards his face.

He laughs against your core, at how needy you are for him. He adores seeing you desperate for your release.

"You sound so pretty." He moans.

"Won—" you all but cry, practically on the edge.

"Can you cum?"

Rapidly you not your head. "Yes."

"Okay, darling." He goes back to sucking on your clit. He works you closer and closer to the edge. His finger work in tandem with his mouth. He thrust two finger in and out of you, over and over again.

Your orgasm feel like a white hot wave. Releasing your fingers from his hair, you go limp against the bed. Your whole body feels as light as a feather.

He pulls back, sporting a grin. Silently he licks his fingers clean of your release. "You taste so good."

Your eyes can’t help but focus on the way his hard cock is leaking. He moves so he’s hovering over you. He’s pressing his lips anywhere he can reach. Without thinking you reach between you. You start pumping his velvety length.

“Fuck—“ he moans.

“Wonwoo, I need you.”

“You can have me.” He removes your hand from him. He takes his cock and guides it to your entrance. A gasp passes your lips as his mushroom tip slips in. No matter how many times you do this, you need a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of him. He pushes in inch by inch.

The moment you’re filled to the brim he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you hung the stars and the moon. Reaching up, resting your hand on his cheek.

“My darling wife, you’re my everything.”

Your heart squeezes. Tears brim your eyes once again. Wonwoo loves you so much, and in turn you’re head over heels for him.

“I love you.” You whisper.

He pulls back slowly, before pushing his hips forward. He makes love to you slowly. His lips are all over your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Your hands touch anywhere they possibly can. You want to touch anywhere and everywhere you can reach.

With each slow and deep thrust he’s brushing that spot inside of you, that has you seeing stars.

The room is filled with echoing sounds of your moans and whimpers, and his groans against your skin. There is a sound of squelching from your release.

“Im gonna—“ your brain can't even process how to finish that sentence.

“You can do it baby.” He pulls back slightly.

“Won—“ you cry out. You release hits you hard and fast, the air feels as if it’s been knocked out of your lungs.

Your walls flutter around his length like a heartbeat. Your fingers cling to him, holding him close. His thrust has lost its rhythm. His own release is rapidly approaching. His moaning your name like a sinful prayer.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m going to—“ his hips stutter. With one practically deep thrust he spills his milky release.

His forehead rests against yours. His eyes are squeezed shut. Slowly he rocks his hips into you, helping each of you ride out your highs.

“I love you.” He whispers with his lips brushing yours.

HIS LUCKY CHARM

You've been feeling off for a few weeks, and the entire time Wonwoo has been gone you've been nauseous and throwing up. You're pretty sure you're pregnant. You want to be a mother, and you know Wonwoo would be an amazing father, but you're scared.

You've spent the whole time pretending you're okay in front of Mingyu, Joshua and Jewel. You don't want anyone to know you're pregnant until you tell Wonwoo.

The whole time he's gone, you miss him dearly. One evening you finally decide you feel well enough to paint. You open your box of paints, and find a letter from your husband.

My Dearest,

I hope you find this letter. I hate that I wasn't able to bring you along. Just know I did it to protect you. I know we did originally chose each other, but that didn't stop me from falling in love with you. You're the sun to my moon. You're the reason breathe each day. I love you so much, and I can't want until we're reunited.

Love, your husband.

You never thought you would find love like you have with Wonwoo.

You spend your time alone painting for ready some of the books Wonwoo keeps in a bookshelf. Jewel and Joshua often invite you over for dinner, or Mingyu comes around, so you aren't alone.

The amount of nausea you're experiencing is a firm reminder you're indeed pregnant. You and Wonwoo haven't done anything to prevent pregnancy, so you aren't surprised.

It's the day Wonwoo is finally serving back home. Sitting on the bathroom floor you wonder how Wonwoo will react to the news.

Your plans for cook dinner tonight have long gone out the window.

The sound of the front door closings catches your attention. You hear your name called in the distance. You're barely able to yell out for your husband, before you throw up again.

He finds you with your head in the toliet, spilling the contents of your stomach. Instantly he squats down next to you, and starts rubbing your back. Helping to soothe you.

"Darling, what's wrong."

"I think I'm pregnant." You pull back sitting on your knees looking over at him.

Wonwoo suddenly feels a mixture of excitement and terror. The idea of your father using his child as a pawn against both of you is absolutely terrifying.

He's lost all the color in his face as he stares at you. "Wonwoo?"

"Lucky, that's amazing, darling."

Placing his hand on your cheek he leans in and rest his nose against yours. Even thought the circumstances that led to your marriage aren't normal, he can't deny how much he loves you.

"You're going to be an amazing mother."

"I hope I am." You never wanted to raise a child anywhere near your father. The idea of bringing a child into this world is terrifying.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. He ever so slowly pushes your hair away from your face. "Darling, let me make you some tea to soothe your stomach."

He helps you stand up, and gives you a chance to clean up. Heading off to the kitchen he focuses on making you a cup of tea.

Walking into the kitchen you find Wonwoo focused on making you a cup of tea. Walking up behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. Resting your cheek against his back. You missed him so much.

"Next time you go on a trip, can we try and see if I can go with you." His absence made you realize, you don't want to live a life where Wonwoo isn't by your side.

He pulls away and spins around. Wrapping his arms around you, he holds you close. "I missed you so much." He leans down pressing his lips to yours for a gentle kiss.

"I missed you too."

"I saw your painting by the window."

You pull back giving him a soft smile. "In your absence, I distracted myself with painting."

He reaches out resting his hand on your stomach. "Maybe you could paint our beautiful baby something for their nursery?"

He's always encouraging you to paint. He always says, he loves watching you light up painting. Since everything unfolded that morning where you met Wonwoo, painting has brighten you so much joy.

"I would love to do that."

Sitting at the kitchen table sipping on tea, Wonwoo tells you all about his visit to see his family. He lights up, mentioning how his mother says she wants to meet you, and when she says she wants grandchildren. Instinctively you rest your hand on your stomach.

Unfortunately Wonwoo's parents won't be the only set of grandparents in your child's life. You know your mother will be a great grandmother, you're just terrified of your father.

For the longest time you have been sitting on lots of information about your fathers illegal activities. It seems the time has finally come to let your father know he won't be controlling your family you've built with Wonwoo.

Looking at Wonwoo you can see the way he looks at you. You're his everything, and in turn he's your everything. You stand by your promise you made to him, you'll protect him. The only way you can truly protect him, is by telling your father to leave you alone.

Your first evening home with Wonwoo ends with you laying in bed together. His head rest near your stomach. You can't help but smile as he talks to your baby. You both know there is no way your very small child can possibly hear him, but it doesn't matter. His actions makes both of you happy.

"I'm going to love you so much. You're momma is the best thing that ever happened to me." His sweet words make your eyes water.

"They're going to love you just as much." You respond.

-

Two weeks pass until you're finally ready to speak to your father. You make sure not to tell Wonwoo, and you plan your trip for when he's at work at the university. You made sure to inform Jewel of your location, incase your father tries to pull anything.

It's a chilly autumn morning as you make your way through the city. Your families home is located on the upper fancy side of the city. You hold your close to your body, protecting yourself from the breezy.

Walking into your family home, you find your mother in the foyer. She lights at the sight of you. She pulls you into a tight hug.

"Lucky, I didn't know you were coming by." She immediately helps your remove your coat.

"Wonwoo is at work, and I need to talk to father."

She pulls back and looks at you with worried eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be." You step back.

"He's in the dining room. He just finished up a meeting ."

Walking through the the living room, you enter the dining room. Your father is sitting alone. In front of him is a plate with steak and a glass of what looks like whiskey. One of the men he met with must of brought him the illegal brown colored liquor.

"Father."

"My darling daughter." You hate that he always speaks to you in a condescending tone.

You pull out a chair and sit down across from him."I shouldn't be here long. I'm stopping by to let you know, I'm with child."

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly processing what you just told him."You're pregnant?"

"Yes, and I'm letting you know now." You pause. This is your chance to finally be brave. "If you ever want to see me or your grandchild you will leave me and Wonwoo alone. This isn't a threat, but a promise. If you so much as touch one hair on Wonwoo's head, I will burn down everything you have worked for. You just won't see me or my child ever again. I will burn down your empire." You've spent years paying attention to all the illegal things your fathers does.

He barks out a bitter laugh. "Know your place, child."

"I'm not a child. I'm giving you a chance to know your grandchild."

He grabs the expensive glass, an takes a drink of the whiskey. "You're threatening me."

"No I'm promising you, that if you hurt my husband or try to control me, I'll end everything." You've been paying close attention to your father's illegal activities since your were an adult.

"Where is your beloved husband?" He leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

"Thats none of you business."

"You wouldn't do anything."

"I think Bureau of Investigation would love to know about the speakeasy on twelveth street. Or about your money moving store fronts." You have no issues laying your cards out on the table.

"You love the professor so much you would throw away your family that gave you everything." He's switching to a tactic of guilting you.

"I would do anything for him and our child." Instinctively you rest your hand on your stomach.

He doesn't say anything he just leans back in his chair. His eyes are burning into you. "It's time I leave now. I'm going on a trip with my husband. I better not encounter any of your men."

"Are you running away?"

"No, I'm going on a much needed trip. Don't worry I'll be back."

Walking out of the dining room you find your sister and mother standing there. Both of them practically in tears. This isn't how you wanted either of them to find out.

"You're pregnant?" Your mother asks.

"Yes." You can't stop the tears that start falling.

"Does Wonwoo know?" Your sister asks.

"Yes, and he's very happy."

Your mother wraps her arms around you, pulling you close. "I'm so happy for you, Lucky. Maybe you were his lucky charm."

You think about this often. You've always been called Lucky, because your mother says you're a lucky charm, and maybe she's right. Wonwoo and you being thrown together changed his life. He's even says you're his lucky charm.

"I think he's mine."

-

EPILOGUE: SNOWFALL

Two month later you find yourself stepping off a train with Wonwoo by your side. This is your first time traveling since that faithful trip to Chicago. Wonwoo holds your hand tight as you make your way through the crowd. One of your hands rest on your round stomach.

Philadelphia is beautiful in the winter. According to Wonwoo his parents live about a five minute walk from the the train station.

He lights up looking around the city called home for most his life. "I used to walk this way to school everyday."

Arriving at the house he grew up in he stops. He looks over at you and gives you a smile. "I always dreamed of bringing the love of my life home to meet my parents."

"Is that what I am?"

"Yes, you're the love of my life, and the mother of my child."

Walking up the lightly snow covered path, you feel slightly anxious. Wonwoo knocks on the door and his mother quickly opens the door. She lights up at the sight of both of you.

His family immediately walk you in with open arms. His mother waste no time pulling you into a hug before taking you inside. Wonwoo watches with the biggest smile on his face. He was already hopelessly in love with you. But seeing you pregnant and glowing with a smile plastered on your face, reminds him that you're truly the love of his life.

You might have not chosen each other, but maybe you were always supposed to end up together.

The home goods store was sprawling and bright, filled with the weekend crowd browsing through aisles of furniture and décor. Wonwoo's hand had been warm in yours since you'd walked in, but the moment you spotted the kitchen section, your fingers slipped from his grasp. Wonwoo had to smile at that. 

"I'm just going to look at some mixing bowls," you said over your shoulder, already drifting toward the displays of cookware.

Wonwoo continued to watch you go with a soft smile, shaking his head at your enthusiasm. "I'll be looking at tables," he called after you, but he wasn't sure you'd heard.

He wandered toward the furniture section, running his fingers along the smooth surface of a dark walnut dining table. It was nice—solid, well-crafted, just what you were looking for—but his attention kept wandering. Even from across the store, he could see you in the kitchen aisle, looking at a set of ceramic bowls with that focused expression you always got when you were genuinely interested in something.

You were wearing something simple today: fitted jeans that hugged your curves in all the right places and a soft, cropped sweater that showed a sliver of skin at your waist when you reached up. Nothing outrageous, nothing that screamed for attention. But Wonwoo had noticed the way heads turned as you passed, the way eyes lingered a beat too long—especially men.

He tried to focus on the table in front of him, checking the price tag and mentally measuring whether it would fit in your shared dining space. But his gaze kept drifting back to you.

A guy in a baseball cap had slowed his cart near where you stood. Then another man, pretending to examine cutting boards, had positioned himself with a clear view of you. Wonwoo’s jaw tightened slightly, but he forced himself to look away. You were just shopping. This should have felt ordinary, as it always does. And yet, while it was flattering that his girlfriend was so beautiful, the attention she drew sometimes made him uneasy. He was being ridiculous.

But then he saw a third guy. Tall, probably in his late twenties, wearing an overly friendly smile—approach you directly. Wonwoo's fingers stilled on the table's edge.

You were comparing two different sized colanders when you heard someone clear their throat beside you.

"Those ones are great," the stranger said, gesturing to the metal colander in your left hand. "I have the same set. The handles are really sturdy."

You glanced up, offering a polite smile. "Oh, thanks. I was trying to decide between this one and the silicone version."

"Definitely go with metal," he insisted, stepping slightly closer. You noticed immediately that his perfume was strong, almost overwhelming. "The silicone ones stain really easily. I learned that the hard way with tomato sauce." The stranger flashed a smile that came off a bit too smug. 

You nodded, genuinely considering his advice despite the fact that he was clearly using kitchen equipment as an excuse to talk to you. Your thoughts automatically drift to Wonwoo and you wonder where he was at this very moment. "That's good to know. I make a lot of pasta, so—"

"Really? Me too! There's actually this great Italian place nearby if you ever want recommendations—"

Suddenly, a familiar warmth pressed against your back and a hand settled gently (maybe possessively) on your hip.

"Babe," Wonwoo's voice was soft, almost casual, but there was an edge to it that made your breath catch. "Did you find what you needed?"

You felt his chest against your shoulder blades—solid and present. His thumb traced a small circle on your hip through your sweater, a gesture that looked casual but felt really claiming.

The stranger’s eyes quickly flickered to Wonwoo then down to where his hand rested on you and his smile faltered a bit. "Oh, I was just—helping with the colanders."

"That's kind of you," Wonwoo said, his tone polite but also dismissive. His other arm came around your waist, pulling you back more firmly against him. "We appreciate it."

Wonwoo wasn't aggressive, he never really is. He didn't puff up or glare either. He just stood there, holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you belonged exactly where you were—in his arms. But the message he was sending was also unmistakable.

The stranger mumbled something about needing to find his sister and quickly wheeled his cart away.

You twisted your body slightly to look up at Wonwoo, finding his expression carefully neutral except for the slight tightness around his eyes. He continued to follow where the stranger went until your voice interrupted his thoughts, "You know I was handling that fine, right?"

"I know," Wonwoo said quietly as he looked at you, but he didn't let go. If anything, his arm tightened around your waist. "Let's keep looking."

You continued looking through different household items together with Wonwoo staying closer than before. His hand found yours, fingers interlacing and when you stopped to examine a set of wine glasses, he stood behind you, his presence a steady warmth at your back—protective, maybe even watchful.

You appreciated it, truly. There was comfort in knowing he wanted to shield you, that he felt responsible for you in quiet, unspoken ways. Still, you couldn’t help finding it a little silly, a little endearing that he worried so much about strangers’ glances, as if you weren’t already choosing to stand right here. With him.

But even with Wonwoo clearly beside you, the stares didn't completely stop. A man adjusting picture frames kept glancing over. Another guy near the lighting section did a double-take as you passed.

Wonwoo noticed every single one of them.

When you stopped to look at some decorative serving platters, he moved behind you again. But this time, instead of just resting his hands on your waist, his fingers found the belt loops of your jeans. He tugged gently, pulling you back against him until there was no space between the two of you.

Wonwoo’s breath was warm against your ear as he leaned down, his voice low and edged with frustration. "People keep staring at you."

You felt heat creep up your neck. "Wonwoo—"

"It's starting to annoy me," he continued, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His fingers tightened in your belt loops, anchoring you to him. "Do they not see me standing right here?"

A giggle escaped you despite the way your heart was racing. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch his eye. "You're being silly, babe."

But even as you said it, you could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks and the blush that gave away how affected you were by his possessiveness.

"Am I?" His voice dropped lower, intimate, and rough in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "You look so good today. Everyday, honestly. And everyone else noticed too."

"Wonwoo," you whispered, now hyperaware of the public setting even as your body responded to his closeness and to the barely restrained jealousy in his tone.

He pressed a soft kiss just below your ear, so quick and subtle that anyone watching might have missed it. But you felt like he was marking you. "Let's finish up here please," he murmured. "I want to go home."

The implied promise in those words made your breath hitch.

The drive home was quiet but filled with tension. Wonwoo's hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing small patterns that were probably meant to be soothing but only heightened your awareness of him. Every time you glanced over at him, you found his jaw set, his eyes on the road, but that earlier frustration he had still simmering beneath the surface. You can’t help but smile to yourself.

When you finally got inside and Wonwoo closed the door behind you, you toed off your shoes with a tired sigh, nudging them aside. “You know,” you said, turning to him with a small, amused smile, “you didn’t have to stick so close the whole time, sweetheart. I was fine.”

You barely had time to add, “But… I did notice,” before Wonwoo was already all up in your personal space.

His hands settled at your waist, gentle but certain, pulling you into him like it was instinct. “I know,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. His thumb brushed slow circles into your side. “I just wanted to be near you.”

You laughed softly and leaned into his chest. “You’re worrying over nothing,” you whispered. “It’s kind of cute.”

Wonwoo let out a quiet breath of a laugh—barely there—before his lips found yours. The kiss was unhurried, full of restraint, like he’d been holding himself back all afternoon. When you smiled against his mouth, he lingered before holding you a little closer, as though being home meant finally letting himself feel everything at once.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck. The kiss slowly started to become deep and consuming, his tongue sliding against yours as he walked you backward to the bedroom you share with him, until your legs hit the bed.

When Wonwoo pulled back, you were both breathing hard. His forehead rested against yours but his hands were still firmly on your waist.

"You really were annoyed," you said softly, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Wonwoo's lips quirked ever so slightly, but the pout that followed was genuine. "You didn't see the way they were looking at you, babe."

"I only care about the way you look at me," you whispered, tracing his lower lip with your thumb. Your eyes tell him all he needs to know. 

His eyes darkened at that and he caught your wrist gently, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Good."

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "You know... if it bothered you that much..." You trailed off, watching his expression carefully. "You could take my clothes off. Since you're the only one who can do that."

Wonwoo's breath caught, his grip on your wrist tightening for just a second before loosening. His eyes searched for yours, "Don't tease me, love."

"Who says I'm teasing?" Your voice came out breathier than intended, your own boldness making your heart race.

For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at you and you could see the war playing out behind his eyes—the restraint versus desire, the careful control he always maintained with you slipping just slightly.

Three years of dating and Wonwoo was still so delicate with you.

Before he knew it, his own hands were on you again, sliding under the hem of your sweater with deliberate slowness. His palms were warm against your skin, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, your ribs, higher. His eyes never left yours as his hands explored your body, watching for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was your own mounting desire reflected back at him.

"You're sure?" he asked, voice already rough.

"Always," you whispered with hooded eyes.

He lifted your sweater slowly, reverently, his knuckles brushing against your skin. You raised your arms to help him until it came off and was tossed aside. The cool air of your home with Wonwoo hit your heated skin, making you shiver, but Wonwoo's hands were immediately there, warm and possessive once more as they settled on your bare waist.

His gaze dropped, taking in the sight of you in just your jeans and a simple black bra, and the sound he made—low and appreciative—sent heat pooling in your belly.

"Beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. Then his lips were on yours again, kissing you with a kind of focused intensity that made your knees weak.

You gently tugged at his shirt as you kissed him and he broke the kiss only long enough to pull it over his head before his mouth found yours again. The feeling of skin against skin made you both gasp into the kiss. His hands roamed your back, his fingers tracing the line of your spine, the clasp of your bra, the curve of your neck and shoulders.

You let your own hands explore—the firm planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his arms, the warm skin of his back. When your nails dragged ever so lightly down his spine, Wonwoo groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through both of your bodies and it made you shiver even more.

He then guided you down onto the bed, following you until he was hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the pillows in the most delicious way. His knee slid between your legs and you couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your throat when he pressed up slightly, creating friction exactly where you needed it.

"Wonwoo, baby," you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair.

He hummed and kissed along your jaw, down your neck, finding that sensitive spot below your ear that made you arch into him. His lips were soft but insistent, occasionally teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp. When he reached your collarbone, he sucked gently, leaving a mark, and the possessiveness of what he did made desire spike through you.

Your hands slid down his back, finding the waistband of his jeans. You traced the edge teasingly, feeling the muscles of his abdomen tense under your touch. When you dipped your fingers just beneath the tight denim, Wonwoo's hips jerked slightly and he made a sound—half groan, half whimper—that you'd never heard from him before.

"You're killing me," he muttered against your skin but his hand was sliding down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans.

"Then we're even," you managed, already breathless and aching for him.

He lifted his head to look at you and the heat in his gaze made your breath hitch. Slowly and so deliberately, he popped the button of your jeans. His fingers toyed with the zipper pull, his eyes asking a silent question.

You almost cry with how gentle your lover is. 

You nodded and he drew the zipper down with agonizing slowness. His hand slid beneath the denim, over your hip, fingers tracing patterns on your skin that made you squirm. When he pressed his palm against you through the thin fabric of your underwear, your back arched off the bed and a moan escaped before you could stop yourself.

"So responsive," he murmured, his voice full of wonder and desire for you. His fingers traced over you with light, teasing touches that had you gripping his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly.

Not to be outdone by him, your hand slid fully beneath his waistband, wrapping around him through his boxers. The groan he let out was deep and guttural, your hands causing his hips pushing into your touch involuntarily. You could feel him hard and hot against your palm and the thought that you affected him this much sent a rush of power and desire through you.

"God," Wonwoo choked out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as you stroked him torturously slowly. His hand stilled between your legs as a result of the pleasure and you could feel him fighting for control. "You—baby, I can't—"

You turned your head, lips brushing his ear. "I like seeing you like this," you whispered. "Losing control because of me."

His response was to capture your lips in a searing kiss while his hand resumed its exploration, fingers finding your most sensitive spot and circling with just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. The shared dual sensations—your hand on him, his on you—created a loop of pleasure that had you both trembling.

But there was still a restraint to it, a careful control that never quite tipped over into more. All of this was about touch, about intimacy, about proving to each other the depth of love and connection between you. When Wonwoo's fingers pressed more firmly and you moaned his name, he swallowed the sound with another deep kiss. When you squeezed him just right and his hips bucked into your hand with a strangled groan, you felt the vibration of it against your lips.

You stayed like that, lost in each other, hands exploring with increasing boldness but always maintaining that thread of control. Wonwoo's lips mapped every inch of your neck and shoulders while his hand worked you with skilled, focused attention. Three years of loving you, he already knows by heart what makes you moan the way he wants to, knows where to touch you to keep you wanting more. Your own hand moved in rhythm with his, drawing sounds from him that you wanted to memorize, store away for later.

"Only you," Wonwoo murmured against your skin between kisses, his voice rough and sincere. "Only ever you."

"Only you," you echoed, meaning it with every fiber of your being.

When you both pulled back, breathing hard and flushed, there was a moment of shared understanding. This was enough—this closeness, this intimacy, this reaffirmation of what you meant to each other.

Wonwoo pressed his forehead to yours, his hand leaving its position to rest safely on your hip, thumb rubbing gentle circles. "I love you," he said quietly. "And I know I was being possessive today, but—"

"I love when you're possessive," you interrupted, your hand leaving his jeans to cup his face instead. "It makes me feel wanted by you."

His eyes softened and he kissed you again, this time sweet and tender. "You are. So, so much."

You stayed tangled together, exchanging soft kisses and softer words, hands continuing to roam but with less urgency now— the simple pleasure of touching and being touched by the person you loved most.

Eventually, Wonwoo helped you sit up, retrieving your sweater from where it had been discarded. But instead of letting you put it on right away, he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your bare waist as he nuzzled into your neck.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled. "I'm not ready to let you go yet."

You laughed softly as you ran your fingers through his hair. "Possessive and clingy. What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me?" he suggested playfully, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes with a hopeful, almost innocent expression that made your heart melt.

"Always," you promised, kissing him once more. "Always, my Wonwoo."

---

The five minutes Wonwoo asked stretched into ten, then fifteen, as you stayed curled in Wonwoo's lap, his arms secure around your waist, his face buried in the curve of your neck. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, still racing from what had just happened between you.

Your fingers continued their gentle path through his hair, occasionally trailing down to trace the nape of his neck, the strong line of his shoulders. Each touch made him shiver slightly and made his arms tighten around you just a little bit more.

"Wonwoo," you said softly and he hummed in response. You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling him tense beneath you, still affected, still wanting. "Look at me, darling."

He lifted his head reluctantly and what you saw in his eyes made your breath catch—desire, yes, but also something deeper. Vulnerability. Trust. Love so profound.

You cupped his face in both of your hands, your thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "You gave me so much just now," you murmured, watching his face transform into gentle understanding as he registered your meaning. "Let me give back to you."

"You don't have to—" he started but you silenced him with a soft kiss.

"I want to," you whispered against his lips. "You're the only one I want to please, Wonwoo. The only one I want to love like this." Your hands slid down his chest, feeling his sharp intake of breath. "Let me show you."

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his jaw clenching as he fought for composure. When he opened them again, the heat there was tempered with something tender. "You already do. Every day, you—"

"Shh," you breathed as you pressed another kiss to his lips, this one lingering and deep. "Just feel. Let yourself feel."

You shifted off his lap and his hands instinctively tried to keep you there, unwilling to let you go. But when you knelt on the bed between his legs, his hands fell away, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

"Baby," he said, voice already rough and wanting and you hadn't even touched him yet.

You placed your hands on his knees, sliding them slowly up his thighs, feeling his muscles tense beneath your palms. "I love you," you said. "I love making you feel good. Only you."

Wonwoo's head fell back against the headboard, his chest already rising and falling rapidly. "You're going to ruin me, you know that right?" he whispered.

"Oh I very well do," you replied with a small smile, your fingers finding the button of his jeans again. This time when you undid it, when you drew the zipper down, there was clear intent. "I want to be the only one who can."

Wonwoo instinctively lifted his hips and you slid his jeans down just enough. The sight of him straining against his boxers made the heat pool low in your belly but this wasn't about your desire—this was about his. 

About showing him exactly how much you want him, need him, love him.

Your fingers traced along the waistband of his boxers, teasing, and Wonwoo's hand shot out to grip the bed sheets, his knuckles white. "Please," he breathed, and the word sounded almost pained. “I need you.”

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lower abdomen, right above the fabric and felt his whole body shudder. "I've got you," you murmured against his skin. "I've always got you."

When you finally freed him from the confines of his boxers, the groan that escaped him was long and low. You took a moment just to look, to admire, your hand wrapping around him with a touch that was both confident and reverent.

"God," Wonwoo choked out, causing his free hand to come up to cover his eyes. "You're—I can't—"

"Yes, you can," you encouraged softly, stroking him slowly from base to tip, learning what made him gasp, what made his hips jerk. "Just let go for me, love."

You leaned in closer and when your lips brushed against him, feather-light and teasing, the sound he made was broken and desperate. His hand dropped from his eyes to tangle in your hair, not pushing or demanding, just needing something to hold onto because at this moment, he feels like it will be the end of him.

"Look at me," you whispered.

His eyes opened, dark and hazy with pleasure, and locked onto yours. The intimacy of the moment—you on your knees before him, your hand moving in steady rhythm, your lips placing soft kisses along his length—seemed to overwhelm him. His breath stuttered and his chest heaved.

"You're so beautiful like this, Wonwoo," you told him, meaning every word. "So perfect for me."

When you finally took him into your mouth, Wonwoo's whole body went rigid, a strangled moan tearing from his throat. His fingers tightened in your hair, trembling with the effort not to push, not to take control, to simply receive what you were offering him.

You started slowly, learning him this way too—what depth made him gasp your name, what swirl of your tongue made his thighs shake, what combination of your hand and mouth had him fighting not to thrust up into the warmth you provided.

"Baby, baby I—" he panted, his voice wrecked at this point. "You feel so good. So fucking good. I don't know if I can—"

You pulled back just enough to speak, your hand maintaining its rhythm, your eyes steady on him. "You don't have to hold back," you reassured him, pressing a kiss to his tip that made him whimper. "I want this. I want you."

His eyes were glassy now, so overwhelmed with sensation but there was something else there too—an emotion so intense it made your chest ache. "I love you," he gasped out, seemingly unable to stop himself. "I love you so, so much."

Your heart clenched and you had to pause, pressing your forehead against his thigh as you fought the sudden wave of emotion. "I love you too," you whispered against his skin, kissing his thigh lightly. "More than anything."

Then you redoubled your efforts, taking him deeper, your hand working in tandem with your mouth in a rhythm that had him falling apart above you. His hand in your hair tightened and loosened intermittently, his other hand gripping the sheets so hard you actually worried he might tear the fabric.

"Please, please, please," he was begging now though you weren't sure what he was begging for. Release? For you to stop? For you to never stop? "I'm so close. Darling, I'm—baby—"

You hummed around him in acknowledgment and in encouragement at the same time and the vibration made him cry out. You could feel him trembling everywhere you touched him, could hear how ragged his breathing had become, could see the flush spreading across his chest and up his neck.

"Where—" Wonwoo managed to gasp out, trying to maintain some semblance of control even now. "Baby please tell me where—"

But you didn't pull away, you didn't hesitate. You just looked up at him with absolute certainty in your eyes. This was trust. This was intimacy. This was your love for the man above you in its most vulnerable form.

When he finally fell over the edge, your name was a broken prayer on his lips. His whole body tensed and shuddered—waves of pleasure crashing over him so intensely that you saw tears at the corners of his eyes. You stayed with him through all of it, ever so gentle and patient, until the tremors subsided and he was boneless against the bed.

You pressed one last soft kiss before you caught his lips in a deep kiss, your touch tender now, soothing. When you moved to get up, his hands shot out to pull you back into his lap despite his obvious exhaustion.

"Don't go," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you so tightly. "I need you close."

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised. You then settle against his chest as your fingers start tracing idle patterns on his skin.

You could feel his heart still racing beneath your palm. But more than that, you could feel the weight of emotion in the way he held you—like you were something irreplaceable.

"That was—" he started, then stopped, seeming unable to find words as he swallowed. "I've never felt—" He tried again and failed, letting out a shaky laugh. "Shit baby, you undo me completely. Every single time."

You tilted your head up to look at him, finding his eyes still dark but now filled with such profound tenderness. "Good," you said again, echoing your earlier sentiment. "Because you I feel the same way about you."

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with gentleness. "I know I got jealous today," he said quietly. "Maybe too jealous. But it's because I can't imagine my life without you anymore. The thought of anyone else even trying to have what we have, to know you the way I know you..." He shook his head. "It makes me crazy just thinking about the possibility of not having you in my life."

"No one else could," you assured him, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. "No one else gets this. Only you, Wonwoo. Only ever you."

Something in his expression cracked as he heard your words, emotion flooded through. He pulled you into a kiss that was different from all the others tonight—not heated or desperate, but deep and meaningful, him trying to convey everything words couldn't capture.

Wonwoo rested his forehead against yours, his breath still uneven. "Thank you," he whispered. "For loving me. For choosing me. For being absolutely mine."

"And you're mine," you whisper to him, your hand finding his and interlacing your fingers. "All those people at the store? They can look all they want but you're the only one who gets to touch me. The only one who gets to know me like this. The only one I want."

He pulled you closer and buried his face in your hair. "I'm the luckiest person in the world," he murmured and you could hear the smile in his voice even as it shook with lingering emotion.

You stayed like that for a long time: wrapped up in each other, skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat. The possessiveness from earlier had transformed into something deeper—a recognition of what you meant to each other, a reaffirmation of the love that tied you together.

Eventually, Wonwoo's breathing evened out, his hold on you loosening slightly as exhaustion from the intensity of it all began to catch up with him. But even as his eyes drooped closed, his arms never left you, keeping you safe and cherished against his chest.

"Stay," he mumbled, already half-asleep.

"Always," you promised as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "I'm yours, remember? I'm not going anywhere."

His lips curved into a smile and he managed to open his eyes just enough to look at you one more time. "Mine," he agreed softly. 

"My girl."

"Your girl," you confirmed. 

"Only yours."

As Wonwoo’s breathing deepened into sleep, you let yourself relax too. You feel content in the knowledge that this—this connection, this love, this perfect understanding between you—was something no amount of stares or strangers could ever touch.

The apartment had grown dim, the afternoon light fading into the soft golden hues of early evening. Wonwoo's eyes flickered open slowly, his body still heavy with the pleasant exhaustion that follows overwhelming pleasure. But even in that hazy space between sleep and waking, he became aware of several things all at once.

The warmth of your body pressed against his, your bare skin soft where it touched his chest, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing is still deep and even with sleep. The weight of your head tucked beneath his chin, your hair tickling his jaw. And beneath all of that—a persistent heat that hadn't quite been satisfied, that still hummed through his veins like an electric current.

His arms tightened around you instinctively, one hand splayed across the bare skin of your lower back, the other resting at your waist as he breathed in the scent of you. He could feel every point of contact between your bodies—the press of your breasts against his chest, the way your legs had tangled with his, the rise of your hip beneath his palm.

Wonwoo closed his eyes again, trying to will away the desire that was building with each breath, each subtle shift of your body against his. But it was just damn impossible. Everything about you called to him—the silk of your skin, the vanilla scent of your hair, the soft sounds you made even in sleep.

His hand on your back began to move almost of its own accord, his fingers tracing the delicate line of your spine with feather-light touches. Up and down, he quietly learns the curve and dip of you as he also tries committing every detail to memory.

He felt the moment you began to wake—the subtle change in your breathing, the way your fingers curled slightly against his chest. Your body shifted and the movement pressed you more firmly against him. Wonwoo couldn't quite suppress the sharp intake of breath, the way his hand tightened on your hip.

"Wonwoo?" Your voice was rough because of sleep and soft, making something in his chest constrict even as heat pooled lower. You tilted your head back to look up at him, eyes still heavy-lidded. "You okay?"

He swallowed hard, his thumb stroking along your waist almost unconsciously. "I'm..." He paused, trying to search for words that wouldn't sound desperate. "I'm still a bit…worked up."

Your eyes cleared a bit more then, trying to focus on him with sudden awareness. You could feel him against your thigh, could see the darkness in his gaze. A slow, knowing smirk curved your lips and Wonwoo felt his heart rate spike.

"Are you now?" you murmured, your voice taking on a teasing tone that made him want to kiss you senseless.

"You always tease me," he sulked but his voice came out more pleading than stern.

Your smirk widened and you shifted deliberately in his lap, making him groan low in his throat. "Do your worst, Jeon Wonwoo" you challenged, your eyes glinting with mischief and invitation.

Something in Wonwoo's expression changed immediately—the careful restraint giving way to insatiable need. "You shouldn't say things like that," he said quietly. "Not unless you mean them."

"I mean them," you assured him, your hand sliding up his chest to rest over his racing heart. "I always mean them with you."

That was all the permission he needed, really.

Very slowly, his hand slid from your waist up your side, his palm trying to commit to memory every curve and valley. When he reached your ribs, his fingers spread wide, nearly spanning your entire side and the possessiveness of that touch made your breath catch.

"You're so soft," he murmured reverently. His hand continued its path upward and when his fingers brushed the underside of your breast, you both inhaled sharply. "So perfect and you’re all mine."

He cupped you gently at first, his large hand warm against your skin, thumb brushing over the lace of your bra. His touch was exploratory and worshipful, like he was discovering you for the first time even though he'd touched you countless times before.

"Wonwoo," you breathed, arching slightly into his touch as your eyes fell closed.

"I love the way you say my name—" he whispered, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder. He pressed open-mouthed kisses there as his hand grew bolder, kneading softly, his thumb finding your peak through the fabric and circling with just enough pressure to make you gasp. "—like it's the only word that matters."

His other hand slid up your back to the clasp of your bra, fingers working it open with practiced ease. The fabric loosened and he carefully, slowly, drew the straps down your arms, his knuckles grazing your skin as he removed it completely and tossed it aside.

For a moment, Wonwoo just looked at you, his eyes dark with want and wonder. "Beautiful," he breathed. "You're so beautiful, sometimes I still can’t believe you chose me."

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, kissing you deeply while his hands explored your newly bared skin. He cupped both your breasts now, his touch both gentle and firm, thumbs circling your sensitive peaks until you were squirming against him, small sounds escaping into the kiss.

"That's it," he encouraged against your lips, one hand sliding back down to grip your hip to hold you steady as you moved against him. "Let me hear you, sweetheart—”

“—let me know what you like."

You were trying to form words but when his mouth left yours to trail down your neck, across your collarbone, lower—all coherent thought disappeared. Wonwoo’s lips closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling and your back arched sharply, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Wonwoo," you managed, the word somewhere between a gasp and a moan. "Please, I—"

He hummed against your skin, the vibration of it sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Please what, baby?" His hand on your hip began to slide lower, his fingers toying with the waistband of your jeans which were still unbuttoned from earlier. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you breathed. "Just you."

Something in Wonwoo’s chest cracked open at your words. He lifted his head to look at you, his eyes blazing with emotion and desire in equal measure. "You have me," he promised, his voice fierce and tender all at once. "All of me. Only you get all of me."

His hand then slipped beneath the denim of your jeans, beneath the silk of your underwear, and when his fingers found you warm and ready, his groan was deeply felt. "Is this okay?" he asked, even as his fingers traced lightly, teasingly.

"Yes," you gasped, your hips rocking into his touch, wanting more. "Yes, Wonwoo, please."

Wonwoo captured your lips in another searing kiss as his fingers began to work in earnest—stroking, circling, exploring with attention. He knew your body well by now, knew exactly how to touch you to make you fall apart, but he took his time, drawing out each sensation, each shuddering breath. As much as Wonwoo enjoys pleasuring you, nothing feels more satisfying to him than watching you and your body respond so well to him and his ministrations.

"You're mine," he murmured against your lips, his fingers pressing more firmly into you, finding that perfect rhythm that had your whole body tensing. "Say it, baby. I need to hear you say it."

"Yours," you confirmed breathlessly, your nails starting to dig into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Wonwoo. Only yours."

"That's right," he breathed, his free hand coming up to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone with infinite tenderness even as his other hand worked you toward the edge. "You’re mine to hold. Mine to touch. Mine to love."

His fingers started to move faster, pressure increasing, and you could feel yourself spiraling, pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. Your head fell back against the pillow and Wonwoo's mouth found your throat, kissing and sucking, definitely leaving marks that would be visible tomorrow. You don’t mind at all.

“Baby, I don’t think I can hold on for much longer, please—” you start to beg.

"Let go for me," Wonwoo coaxed, his voice rough and velvety in your ear before he placed a feather-light kiss to your neck. "I've got you, my love. I'll always catch you."

The combination of his words, his touch, the intimacy of being so completely open and vulnerable with him—it all crashed over you at once. Your release hit you like a wave, your whole body shuddering as pleasure rolled through you in intense pulses. Wonwoo lovingly held you through it, his fingers gentling but not stopping as he drew out every last tremor. His arm around you as he continuously ran his hand against your arm to soothe you.

"So, so beautiful," he kept murmuring, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips. "You're so beautiful when you let go."

When the pleasure finally subsided, you collapsed against his chest, feeling boneless and breathless. Wonwoo’s arms came around you immediately as you turned to him. He held you close as his hand slid out from your jeans to wrap around your waist instead.

"I love you," you managed to say, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "I love you so much."

You felt more than heard his sharp intake of breath. Then his fingers were beneath your chin, tilting your face up so he could kiss you—slow and deep and full of everything words couldn't capture.

When he pulled back, his eyes were hazy but also bright. "I love you too," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone."

But even as he said it, you could feel him still hard and wanting against you. You could see the tension in his shoulders that spoke of restraint still being held. You shifted deliberately and his eyes quickly darkened again, a soft groan escaping him.

"Your turn," you murmured as you started to reach for the waistband of his jeans but he caught your hand gently.

"Not yet," he said and when you opened your mouth to protest, he silenced you with another kiss. "I'm not done with you yet."

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Trust me?" he asked, his hands already working to slide your jeans down your hips.

"Always," you shuddered.

Wonwoo helped you out of your jeans and underwear and then you were completely bare before him. It was about time, you thought. The vulnerability of it should have been overwhelming but the way Wonwoo looked at you—like you were something sacred and precious—made you feel cherished.

His hands settled on your thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there. "Lie back for me," he instructed softly and you did.

Wonwoo took a moment once more to look at you, sprawled out before him, flushed and beautiful and his. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading them gently, and the possessive satisfaction in his eyes made heat pool in your belly all over again.

"Every part of you," he murmured as he leaned down to press kisses to your knee, your inner thigh, higher. "Every single part of you is mine."

"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, your hands finding his hair again as his mouth moved higher, his breath hot against your skin.

"And I'm yours," he continued, his voice muffled but no less intense. "Every part of me belongs to you. My hands." He squeezed your thigh gently. 

"My mouth." He pressed a kiss dangerously close to where you wanted him most. 

"My heart." He looked up at you then and the raw emotion in his eyes made yours sting with unshed tears. "All of it. All of me."

“Forever.”

Then his mouth was on you and any clear thought became impossible. Wonwoo’s tongue was skilled and thorough, exploring every fold, every sensitive spot, learning what made you gasp, what made your hips buck, what made you cry out his name.

Your legs would instinctively close due to sensitivity but his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him, keeping you right where he wanted you. When you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation again, he held you firm, looked up at you with eyes that were both commanding and endearing.

"Stay with me baby," he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice making you shudder. "Don't run from it. Let me make you feel so good."

One of his hands left your thigh, his fingers finding your entrance and sliding in slowly, carefully, as his mouth continued its ministrations on your clit. The sensations made stars burst behind your eyes, the pleasure so intense it bordered on too much.

"Wonwoo, fuck, I can't—it's too—"

"You can," he assured you, his fingers curling inside you in a way that made you cry out loud. "You're so strong, baby. So perfect. Give me one more. I know you can."

Wonwoo’s mouth sealed around your most sensitive point, sucking gently while his fingers worked inside you and the combination was devastating. Your second release builds faster than the first—sharper and more intense. Your hands fisted in his hair, tighter than it should be, but Wonwoo never minded. Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his head.

"Wonwoo, I'm—oh god, I'm—"

"That's it," he encouraged. 

"Let go, baby. I've got you."

When you came apart this time, it was with his name on your lips like a prayer, like a benediction. The pleasure was so intense it almost hurt, wave after wave crashing over you as Wonwoo worked you through it with gentle persistence.

When you were completely wrung out, he pressed one last soft kiss before crawling up your body. He gathered you into his arms, holding you close as you came back to yourself.

"I’m right here," he murmured as he pressed kisses to your hair, your forehead, anywhere he could reach. "You did so well."

When you could finally breathe again, could finally think, you tilted your head up to look at him. His lips were swollen, his eyes still dark with want, and you could feel how hard he still was against your hip.

"Wonwoo," you said softly, your hand sliding down his chest toward the waistband of his jeans. "You need to take these off—"

"I need you," he interrupted, catching your hand and bringing it to his lips. "However I can have you. Whatever you're willing to give."

The love in his eyes, the tender desperation in his voice, the way he held you like you were the most important thing in his world, the way he always has to ask permission—it all combined to make your chest ache with overwhelming emotion.

"Everything," you whispered, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted like you and him and love and devotion. "I'll give you everything."

His answering smile was brilliant and boyish and so full of joy it took your breath away. "Then let me love you," he whispered against your lips. "Let me show you exactly how much you mean to me."

Your hands framed Wonwoo's face as you kissed him deeply, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into the press of your lips against his. When you pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, eyes locked in silent communication.

"Let me," you whispered as you gently pushed at his chest.

Wonwoo’s brow creased in confusion, his gaze searching yours until you gently guided him back against the sheets. The moment his shoulders met the mattress, understanding settled in, soft and unguarded, as if something unspoken had finally clicked into place with him. He exhaled and when you moved closer, he followed without hesitation—his hands lifting to help you straddle his hips, always so careful in the way he touched you.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly even as his thumbs traced circles on your hip bones. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," you assured him, reaching down to help him out of the rest of his clothes. "I want to be close to you. As close as possible, honestly."

Once he was bare beneath you, you couldn’t help but admire him—the strong lines of his body, the flush across his chest and neck, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. But more than his physical beauty, it was the expression in his eyes that captivated you. Pure adoration mixed with lust and desire, trust mixed with need, love so profound it seemed to emanate from him in waves.

You’re seen him so many times and yet every time, your heart pounds and you feel nervous. 

"You're everything to me," you told him, your voice catching slightly on the words. "Do you know that?"

His hands tightened on your waist and when he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. "You're my whole world," he replied. "My whole world and you're here, choosing me."

"Always choosing you," you echo back.

You rose up on your knees and positioned yourself above him. Wonwoo's hands slid to your hips, supporting you but not controlling, completely letting you set the pace. When you reached down to guide him, his sharp intake of breath mirrored your own.

The first point of contact made you both shudder. You took your time feeling the exquisite stretch and fullness as your bodies began to join. Wonwoo's fingers dug into your hips—not painfully, but with barely restrained need. He groans, deep and guttural.

"God," he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before forcing them open again. "You feel—I can't—"

"I know," you gasped, pausing halfway to adjust and to breathe through the overwhelming sensation. "I know, I feel you too."

Wonwoo’s hands moved to your thighs. He stroked you soothingly even as his own body trembled with the effort of staying still, letting you take what you needed. "Take your time, baby," he encouraged, his voice strained but still tender. "We have all the time in the world."

And when you finally sank down completely and settled fully into his lap with your bodies joined as intimately as two people could be, you both released heavy, shaky breaths. The feeling of being this close, this connected, was almost overwhelming—physical pleasure intertwined with emotional intimacy until you couldn't separate one from the other.

"Wonwoo," you whispered as you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his.

"I'm here," he murmured back, one hand sliding up your spine to cradle the back of your neck. "I'm right here with you."

You began to move slowly, rising up and sinking back down in a rhythm that had both of you gasping. Wonwoo's hands roamed your body—your back, your sides, cupping your breasts, threading through your hair—like he needed to touch every part of you at once. His tongue swirled at the peak of your breasts as you moved in sync with him.

"You, my love, are so hot," he kept murmuring between kisses pressed to your collarbone, your neck, your jaw. "You're so beautiful like this, taking what you need from me. I love watching you."

Your hands gripped his shoulders for leverage as you moved faster, as you chased the pleasure building between you. "You feel so good Wonwoo," you gasped out. "So fucking big and perfect like you were made for me."

"I was," he groaned, his hips starting to rise to meet your movements, creating a rhythm that had you both spiraling higher. "I was made for you. Only for you."

Wonwoo pulled you down into a deep kiss as he swallowed your moans and the pleasure intensified. His hands guided your hips, helped you find the angle that had you seeing stars, and when you cried out against his lips, he held you tighter.

"That's it, baby," he pressed. 

"Use me. Take everything you need."

Your movements became more urgent and desperate as you climbed toward your orgasm. Wonwoo's hands were everywhere—steadying you, caressing you, worshipping you. His lips found your breast once more, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak and the added sensation made your rhythm falter.

"Wonwoo, I—" You were breathing hard now, your thighs beginning to shake with exertion and mounting pleasure. "I'm so close, but I—"

Wonwoo noticed immediately as he always does—the way your movements were becoming less coordinated, the trembling in your legs, the exhaustion creeping in despite the pleasure still building. Without missing a beat, his hands gripped your hips firmly.

"I've got you," he said, his voice shifting to that commanding edge that made your stomach flip. "Let me take care of you now."

In one smooth motion, he shifted you both. He laid you gently back against the mattress and settled between your thighs without ever breaking your connection. The change in position made you both groan—he was deeper now and the angle was delicious.

“Better?” he murmured, holding himself above you, his breath warm as his hair fell messily into his eyes, his gaze dark and intent. You smiled slowly, tilted your chin up as your legs locked around his waist, drawing him in until there was barely any space left between you. “Don’t stop,” you whispered against his lips.

“Fuck baby, the things you do to me,” Wonwoo exhales as his eyes fall close momentarily, lust slowly creeping up more and more.

Wonwoo started to move with slow, deep rolls of his hips that had you arching beneath him. Each thrust was deliberate, controlled, designed to bring you maximum pleasure. He watched your face the entire time, reading your every expression, every gasp and he adjusted his movements to give you exactly what you needed.

"You're so tight," he murmured. "So warm. So perfect around me. I never want to leave."

Your hands slid up his back as you chuckled. You feel the flex of his muscles as he moves. "Then don't," you managed, though speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. "Stay inside me forever."

The sound he made was halfway between a groan and a laugh. "Don't tempt me babe," he said, but his thrusts became deeper, more purposeful. “I might just do it.”

One of his hands slid between your bodies and he found you where you wanted him most and he started circling your clit with gentle pressure. The combined sensation—him filling you so completely while his fingers worked your bundle of nerves—had you crying out and screaming his name.

"Wonwoo, oh god, Wonwoo, fuck—"

"I know, baby, I know," he soothed even as his own breathing became ragged. "You like that? You're doing so well. You’re so good for me. Just let it happen."

Wonwoo shifted just slightly and he found the spot inside you that made your breath catch every time he moved against you. The change sent a rush of pleasure spiraling through you. It was so sharp and sweet that it stole the air from your lungs. Your fingers curled into his back, trying to hold on for dear life as your body tightened, the heat blooming low and deep, building higher with each slow motion—until it felt like everything was too much and not nearly enough all at the same time.

"Look at me sweetheart," Wonwoo commanded softly and your eyes snapped to him. The intimacy of that eye contact while he was so deep inside you, while his fingers worked magic between your legs, while he poured his whole heart into every movement—it was almost too much for you to handle.

"I love you," he said, his voice shaking. "I love you so much. Come for me, baby. Let me feel you."

“Fuck, Wonwoo, I love you so much, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His words, his touch, the emotion blazing in his eyes—it all combined to send you over the edge. Your release crashed over you in waves, your body clenching around him as pleasure flooded every nerve ending. You cried out his name as he rode out the pleasure with you.

Wonwoo groaned deeply, his movements becoming less coordinated as he felt you pulsing around him. "So good," he gasped. "You feel so good. I'm—I can't—"

"Let go," you urged though breathless, your hands cupping his face. "I want to feel you. Let me feel you, please, Wonwoo. Come inside me, baby."

“Shit baby, you—”

Your words seemed to shatter the last of his control. His thrusts became more urgent and more desperate and then he was burying himself deep with a broken moan, his whole body shuddering as he found his release. You hold him through his high as you feel him release inside you, all hot and messy in the best possible way. You press kisses to his temple, his cheek, murmuring words of love and praise.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he kept whispering against your neck as the tremors gradually subsided. His weight then settled more fully onto you in a way that felt safe and right.

You wrapped your arms around him, held him close, felt his racing heartbeat gradually slow against your chest. Your fingers carded through his damp hair and once he caught his breath, you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you too," you giggled as you whispered back. "So much."

He lifted his head and the tenderness in his eyes made you hold your breath momentarily. Carefully, mindful of your sensitivity, he shifted to the side so he wasn't crushing you but he immediately pulled you into his arms, keeping you as close as possible.

Wonwoo reached for the covers that were once discarded and pulled it over both of your cooling bodies. His arms never left you as he held you against his chest like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"That was..." he started, then trailed off because he seemed unable to find adequate words.

"Everything," you finished for him, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You trace his jaw with your finger. "That was everything."

His smile was soft and full of wonder. "Yeah," he agreed. "Everything."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips—not demanding or heated, just sweet and full of affection. When he pulled back, he tucked your head beneath his chin. His hand continues its soothing path up and down your spine.

"I'm sorry I got so jealous earlier," he said quietly. "At the store."

You smiled against his chest. "You don’t have to apologize. I liked seeing that side of you. I like knowing you want me that much."

"I do," he confirmed right away. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. Not just physically, but all of you. Your laugh, your mind, your heart. The way you hum when you're cooking. The face you make when you're concentrating. Everything."

Your chest felt tight with emotion. "You have all of that," you assured him. "You've had it for a long time now."

His arms tightened around you. "I’m just so lucky to have you," he said simply.

You lay there in comfortable silence for a while, just breathing together, hearts beating in sync. The world outside could wait. The shopping bags still needed to be unpacked, dinner would eventually need to be made, life would continue on as it always did.

But for now, there was just this—the two of you tangled together under a soft duvet, skin against skin, heart against heart.

"We should probably get cleaned up," you murmured eventually but you made no move to leave the warmth of Wonwoo’s embrace.

"In a minute," Wonwoo responded, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head. "I'm not ready to let you go just yet."

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised.

"I know," he said softly. "Let me hold you anyway. Just for a little while longer."

And so you did. You melted into his embrace, feeling cherished and loved and completely safe. And as Wonwoo pressed another gentle kiss to the top of your head, murmuring words of love against your hair, you thought that this—this perfect moment of intimacy and connection—was worth every stare, every moment of jealousy, every complicated emotion that had led you here.

Mingyu slapped the desk causing you to jump in your seat, tearing your attention from the computer screen and the studying he was making you do on work out techniques. Most which you already knew but he still wanted you to do this. There was an excited smile playing over his lips and you raised your brow questioningly.

“I got someone coming in for an interview today. Part time at the front desk.” He said, and your eyes widened in surprise. There was several hires before and after you started, but none of them every stuck around for more than a day or quit mid-shift. That was if they even made it through an interview with Yujin.

It always left you as the gym’s only receptionist, with Mingyu and Wonwoo being the ones picking up the slack so that you could have time off.

And this isn’t to say that the gym was struggling, because it wasn’t. It was actually a very popular and successful one, despite the severe lack of employees working. People still came in to work out or take advantage of the top notch personal training that was offered. It was hard, but you all managed it well until Wonwoo left and made it very apparent that the gym was in desperate need of more staff.

Especially since Yujin was worthless and hadn’t bothered showing up the last in days either.

“Wait you are? Where’s Yujin?” You ask, and Mingyu only gave you a tight smile at the mention of the manager.

“Need I remind you that I was the one who did your interview and hired you? And he’s gone now. For good. Was finally able to convince the owner that he was bad for business and to get rid of him. He never was here anyways, and I was doing all his work anyways. So, I’m now in charge and first thing we are doing is get more staff.” Mingyu answered you honestly, and you could tell that he was tired. There was dark circles under his eyes, and his usually clear face had a small breakout on one cheek. You knew his hair had to of be a mess under the beanie he was wearing too, “I put up a job listing this morning and got several bites right away. I have someone coming in today for, and then another possible one tomorrow. And Hyung said he’s gonna go full time for a while when he gets back.

Things are going to finally be changing around here now. Gonna get us a full staff for the place, and this place running like it should be.” You smiled at the confidence behind his words, but you’ve also worked with him long enough to see he was still worried and nervous about this. It was hidden well, but you knew when your coworker, now your official boss, and he was stressed. “I do have a good feeling about this, though. It’s going to be good.”

“I think so too,” You nod, “Do you need me to reschedule any of your appointments for this? Or I can get them started on some warmups?”

“Not needed. It’s going to between my appointments. Just keep working up here and studying. We need to take advantage of a slowish day.”  

Right then your phone buzzed next to the computer, indicating you had a message. You were quick to glance down and back up to Mingyu, grateful that the phone was not within his sight and would be able to see who was texting you. You weren’t entirely interested in him questioning you, verbally or with his gaze.

Instead he tapped at the counter, shooting you one last smile before heading into the work out area, looking over his tablet as he did. Taking this chance, you grabbed your phone to look over your notifications. Your roommate had also texted about something you supposedly didn’t do, and that she wasn’t going to be home that night. That didn’t need a response in your opinion, but it was the other messages that you were focused on.

Jeon Wonwoo: How’s work going? Jeon Wonwoo: Not missing me too much are you? 😉

You roll your eyes as his response, but a soft laugh still left you. Lately, your text exchanges were nothing about trying to figure out where he went off to and for what, instead it was filled with random chatter that typically ended in either of you getting annoyed with each other. Yet, you kept talking.

You: Work is busy, but Mingyu is interviewing someone today, and has someone else coming tomorrow. You: I also miss you like I miss a rash.

You smirk at your response and got one back quickly.

 Jeon Wonwoo: Mingyu told me. It’s a relief that Yujin is finally gone. Don’t get why it took as long as it did. Jeon Wonwoo: So, you do miss me. Aww. Miss you too. You: Whatever helps you sleep at night. You: What time is it where you are?

You looked at the time on the computer. It was just after one in the afternoon for you.

Jeon Wonwoo: Just after nine. We finished up for the night, like an hour ago? Me and a teammate are about to grab a late dinner. You: What are you two planning to get? Jeon Wonwoo: Haven’t decided yet. Left it up to him though, he was the one who wanted to go. I’m going for the food. Jeon Wonwoo: He’s also decent company. Jeon Wonwoo: You got any plans after work? You: Wouldn’t you like to know.

That was a silly thing to say. If he didn’t want to know, he wouldn’t have asked, but you couldn’t just respond to him calmly. You had to have an attitude about it. Except, it didn’t feel like the start to fights, it felt more like… flirting?

Jeon Wonwoo: Maybe I do. 😊

Dreamer: My roommate is going to be at her boyfriend’s, instead of him coming here to make the whole place stink and uncomfortable. Dreamer: I plan to take full advantage of this, and plan enjoy my apartment in peace.

The smile that Wonwoo had been wearing fell slightly reading that. He didn’t like reading that you were forced to be uncomfortable in your own apartment because of your roommate’s boyfriend. It made something bubble inside his chest, and he had to swallow the feeling back. For all he knew, you could mean something entirely different.

He wasn’t that stupid though.

Looking up from his seat in the hotel lobby, Wonwoo tried to see if he could catch Yunho getting off the elevator, but he still hadn’t seen the younger man. Checking the time, he realized he had showed up almost twenty minutes before their agreed meet up time. He had been too busy thinking about you.

Wonwoo: How does he make you uncomfortable?

He leaned onto his hand while he watched the text bubbles pop up, with his chin resting on his thumb and the rest of his hand balled into a fist against his lips. The smile now completely gone, and his mind started to think of all the ways this guy makes you uncomfortable.

He didn’t know where this sudden possessiveness and protectiveness came from, but it took a vicious hold over him. Taking several breaths, Wonwoo waiting for you to finally answer him.

Dreamer: He just stares at me like a creep, always makes these gross comments about or toward me and my roommate. Dreamer: And he ignores my rules about no vaping or smoking in the apartment. And he smokes the grossest flavored vapes. Dreamer: It’s not just him though. She doesn’t stop him and ultimately blames me if his eyes stay on me too long, or he makes a comment about my ass. Dreamer: I mostly just stay in my room because of this.

Wonwoo pursed his lips from behind his fist as he reread your messages, glancing up to check over the crowded lobby. Still no sign of Yunho, only there was still time, and hoped he was able to calm down by the time he did show. He had to reel back the feeling in his chest, not wanting it to put a damper on the evening and the good mood the day brought.

Wonwoo: What kind of comments?

The text bubble came up and then disappeared. Then you finally answered.

Dreamer: Just assholish comments. Sexist shit. I normally tell him to fuck off, or ignore him. Dreamer: Its sticks and stones, and it’s best to just avoid him. Nothing to worry about. Honestly. Dreamer: What matters is I get to have my apartment back for the night.

Wonwoo didn’t want to worry about it, like you told him to, but he couldn’t help himself and could barely keep it in. While he didn’t believe you, he wanted to, but even accepting your words for now, it was hard for him to. It wasn’t like he could do anything right then anyways. He was an ocean away.

Besides, he was quite liking the change with how you two were talking. Over the last few days, it felt more like friends talking then enemies. Even when you get annoyed with him, there was no punch behind it, and it started to feel more like flirting. He didn’t want to stop this, he didn’t want to say or do anything to go back.

Wonwoo: What all you plan to do with that apartment to yourself? Wonwoo: Gonna throw some crazy party? Or have a friend over?

The notion that you may not be completely single had not left Wonwoo, but he knew enough that you weren’t in a committed relationship. That didn’t mean you weren’t dating or that you didn’t have friends for that. You were absolutely beautiful, so he would be stupid to think you weren’t sought after. He only hoped he wasn’t misreading your responses.

Dreamer: No parties, no friends coming over. Just hanging out in my living room with a movie and take out. Just want to enjoy my apartment to myself. Dreamer: Maybe even look up toe wrestling rosters to find your name. 😏

This made Wonwoo snort, the smile he originally had reappeared slowly. It was funny how easy you could put a smile on his face as much as you can annoy him, but he liked it. He liked you.

Wonwoo: Well, that sounds like a fun but pointless way to spend your time. Wonwoo: The toe wrestling, everything else sounds like a blast. Wonwoo: How about to save you from a pointless search, maybe another hint would work.

Your response was swift and quick, like you had his messages open.

Dreamer: Or! Omg, I can’t believe I am suggesting this, but maybe just maybe Dreamer: You do always with these hints and just tell me. Dreamer: I know, it’s absolutely wild, but just an idea. Wonwoo: What’s the fun in that?

“Sorry, I got caught up in a call.” Yunho tore him from your messages, striding up to him with his hands pushed into the pockets of his graphic hoodie; along with a pair of jeans and a beanie to cover his chocolate brown hair. “Weren’t waiting too long I hope.”

“I came down too early, so I been waiting a while, but that’s all my fault.” Wonwoo answered, typing his last message to you.

Wonwoo: I have to go now. Here is the hint though. Wonwoo: I use my hands, not my toes.

“Ready?” Yunho asked as Wonwoo stood, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket.

“Yeah, where are we going?”

“There is a little bar right by the hotel that the guys been saying serve decent food, and strong drinks. I say we go there, and then tomorrow you chose dinner.”

“That works for me.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to come home to a quiet apartment, and before six at night since Mingyu had let you go early; with the interview going great and Mingyu hired the guy on the spot. So, this only made you more excited to come home.

There was no loud television going, no disgusting smelling vapes, fighting, or some bum laying all over your sofa. In nothing but boxers, scratching his balls as he drank your beer. Not contributing because ‘why would he since he doesn’t live there.’

You weren’t met with Amelia, your roommate, glaring at you from her place on the sofa, next to him. Or screaming at him for whatever girl she caught him texting. Or rushing out the door to make her shift since she didn’t get ready in time, because she was too busy arguing with him and kicking him out. Only for him to be back once she was off work and having disgusting loud make up sex.

It was hell, and you needed a new roommate, but you had to play nice until either she either moves in with her worthless boyfriend, she moves back home, or your lease was up in the next few months. You shouldn’t have to come home to such a hostile environment like that, nor should you come to a mess in your apartment.

You made quick work to pick up, throwing the dishes in the washer, vacuum crumbs up from the sofa and around it, and threw out all the trash that was left. You ordered from your favorite restaurant a few blocks away before jumping into the shower, taking your time to get dressed and do your skin care while waiting. You felt at ease and your body relaxed, looking forward to your evening without any drama or uncomfortable interactions.

Even feeling comfortable enough to wear your favorite pajamas, a black tank and shorts set with white cat whiskers all over the shorts and in the front of the tank. You couldn’t remember the last time you got to wear them through your apartment without worrying about someone staring at you.

Your phone chimed a couple of times right as there was a knock at the door, indicating that your phone was there. Accepting the food, you gave your thanks to the delivery driver and brought it in. Setting the bag on the counter, you slipped into your room to grab a blanket when you heard the door open.

Your heart dropped.

“Amelia?” You called out cautiously, but all you heard was something being dropped onto the counter and a rustling of a bag. Tossing your blanket back onto your bed, you rushed into the living room to find Amelia trying to rummage through your delivery, “No, that’s mine.”

“Oh come on, you can share.” Amelia complained when you took the bag from her. “We had a shitty day, and I am hungry. You can share a little with me.”

“No, I didn’t order enough to share, and you didn’t contribute to any of it,” You tell her, turning away from her to stop dead at the sight of her boyfriend sitting on the sofa. A vape dangling from his lips and his eyes zeroed in on your bare legs, not even caring that Amelia could see or that you lowered the bag to block them, “What happened to not being home tonight?”

“His dad came home. So, we’re here instead.” Amelia rolled her eyes, before they dropped down to your pajamas, “Ugh, put on some clothes. My boyfriend is here.”

“These are clothes and my fucking apartment, Amelia. So maybe you should tell him to have some respect and stop staring. Or don’t fucking come over here.” You snapped, hoping that the quiver in your voice didn’t give your away, “Don’t worry, I’ll just take my dinner in my room.”

With that you charged into room, slamming the door shut in process before turning the lock, as well as the secondary one you installed just to make sure they both stayed out. Finally you let out a frustrated yell and didn’t care that Amelia, or her boyfriend could hear it, dropping down onto your bed. Angry tears prickled your eyes as you sat the bag of food onto the floor and tried to take a few deep breaths.

You wanted to cry, but you couldn’t let your ruined night get to you like that. Only the disappointment weighed heavy on your chest. A night of peace was all you wanted. Was it too much to ask?

Your phone then went off again on your desk, and it tore you out of the pity party you were in. Standing, you grab the delivery bag to set on the desk to look at your phone. Checking the notifications, you couldn’t stop the small sob and smile seeing Wonwoo’s name on the screen.

Who knew that receiving a message from him brought you a rush of relief.

Jeon Wonwoo: How’s having the place to yourself going? Get anything good to eat? You: Yeah, the funny thing about that…

You sniffed, using your palm to wipe away the tears that had fallen, deciding you couldn’t let yourself cry. It was just another day of your life, with one change. The pain in the ass from work had now turned into a lifeline, something that you looked forward to keep you anchored when you felt like you had no control of your surroundings. It made you wonder if he would have always been like this and you just never took the chance to look further.

You: He still lives with his dad, and I guess he came home. So they are here now. You: And I am now locked in my room with my takeout and will just watch a movie on my iPad. You: Also I don’t want to change out of my pjs.

Instead of unboxing your food right away, you went back to your bed, laying on your side to focus on your text conversation. Then you realized what time it might be there.

You: It’s almost seven thirty here. What time is it there? Jeon Wonwoo: After three in the morning. You: Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Jeon Wonwoo: Can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to adjust to the time difference this time. Jeon Wonwoo: Are you okay? Also, why would you have to change out of your pajamas?

You sigh, sitting up and opened up the camera on your phone to aim at the mirror facing your bed. Tucking one leg under you, you let the other drop over the side of the mattress and angled yourself to get a good shot of you and your pajamas. Snapping the photo, you sent it to him without another thought before adding more messages.

You: And I am okay, just frustrated. She told me to put on some clothes You: Just because her stupid boyfriend is here and can’t stop keep his eyes to himself. 🙄These are my favorite ones too.

You watch as the text bubble came up, and the disappeared, your thumb nail between your teeth. It was dawning on you that you had just sent your coworker a photo of you on your bed and in your pajamas. Your skin burn in embarrassment, wondering how he was even reacting at getting an unsolicited photo of you.

You could have just described it to him, but instead, you took a photo and sent it. That was something you did with your close friends, not him. Not Jeon Wonwoo.

He finally responded.

Jeon Wonwoo: I don’t think I like the idea of some guy making you uncomfortable in your own apartment and your roommate doing nothing to stop it, because I don’t see anything wrong with your pajamas, they are really cute. Jeon Wonwoo: But it’s better than what I am wearing right now. You: What are your pajamas? A bright pink onesie?

Text bubbles again, before they disappeared.

Jeon Wonwoo: Am I okay to send a photo myself? You: You know asking that after I sent mine unsolicited, doesn’t make me feel better. Jeon Wonwoo: You can send me anything you want. You don’t have to ask, nor would it be considered unsolicited.

You were quick to open your camera while he was still typing to snap your middle finger and sent it off before he could respond.

You: Since you said I can send anything I want. 😇 Jeon Wonwoo: With my photo, its better to ask for permission. You don’t see my dick or anything like that. Just don’t want you running to Mingyu telling him I was sending you unwanted photos the next time I piss you off. Jeon Wonwoo: Also, glad to see that my pain is still being a smartass. 😂

There was a slight hesitation in your response, and it wasn’t that you didn’t believe him that it wasn’t a nude, it was that you were now starting to exchange photos with each other. A far cry from how you were over a week ago, and you were blindsided with how quick everything was changing. Two years of bickering and comments to where you were like enemies now dismantled after he went away, and you found yourself missing those moments with him. Missing him.

You: You can send and I won’t use it against you. But I reserve the right to revoke picture sending privileges.

The photo came in and it nearly took your breath away. He was sitting up in bed, with his hair messy and sticking up in a few places, free of glasses, and most of all… shirtless. Wide lean but muscular shoulders, thick pecks, and faint lines of a six pack, while the rest of him was covered by a thick dark blanket. Except you knew damn well he was naked under those covers.

You had to stop from staring at his body.