Reaching a hand behind you, you palm around for the remote, careful to avoid Mae’s sleeping form; and when your fingers brush against the familiar, cold plastic, you’re quick to put the television on mute. A small act of protest, you deem.

The room is plunged into quiet. With a faint sigh, you let your head fall backward against the couch cushion, staring at the ceiling for a moment before tilting your face to look at Mae. As the scenes change on the screen, different areas of her face are highlighted and shadowed in different shades of blue light.

Since you can remember, your best friend has always had a tendency to work herself up over your sleepovers—gushing about what the two of you would do, making sure her pantry was chock-full of junk food—only to fall asleep before the two of you could really sink your teeth into anything. She’d been vibrating with excitement when you told her you were back in town, practically dragging you over to her house before you could even properly unpack—and lo and behold, here she is. Dead to the world.

Some things never change, it seems. Los Angeles traffic is still as horrific as it was, and the cicadas’ clicking still manages to pass through closed windows, and much to your surprise, the vodka sauce at Ralph’s still goes for $4.49 a jar. Mae’s nose still scrunches in her sleep.

The California you left is the same one you came back to.

You aren’t sure whether that should relieve you or not.

Blood rushes back into your legs as you push yourself up from the floor, the sensation slightly icy. You meander around the house for a bit, refamiliarizing yourself with the small changes in the otherwise familiar space (the coffee you had had a little too late into the afternoon had left you restless) before you end up in the kitchen.

Mae’s mother does the cooking in the family, which means the kitchen is arranged to her taste: all whites and sage greens and silver accents. Mae’s father is an old-fashioned man who still reads the paper every morning, which means there’s a copy of yesterday’s The Los Angeles Times that’s been haphazardly tossed on the central island. You find yourself sliding onto one of the leather stools, reaching for it—picking a pencil from the stationery tin (a rainbow-patterned one with the words You rock! printed on the side; something the homeroom teachers used to hand out in grade school) and flipping to the daily crossword.

It’s a mundane hobby. Something you picked up a few months ago. You’re hoping the mundanity will help wear down the caffeine.

1-Across: Something a lifeguard might tell you poolside, perhaps

SLOWDOWN, you scribble in.

“Everything’s so slow here,” your friend, Emma, complains over the din of your high school cafeteria, popping another cube of watermelon into her mouth. You had lunch right after art class, so her toffee blonde hair was slightly mussed, and there were smatterings of dried acrylic paint on her hands. “You know, in New York, people always rush everywhere. That’s why we can tell when someone’s a tourist, ‘cause they walk too slow. You know what I mean?”

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt about Emma since she moved to Orange County at the start of ninth grade, it’s that she hates it here—and if it were up to her, she would be on the first plane flying back east. She misses snow, walking everywhere, the Macy’s parade. She misses when it “felt like there was always something happening.”

Usually, you just let her vent, figuring her parents weren’t at home enough for the possibility of them being understanding towards their teenage daughter’s homesickness to even present itself. In a way, it made you feel validated; even though you’ve lived here your whole life, you, too, resent California.

You resent how your aunt only gave you a polite, somewhat perplexed smile when you said you wanted go out-of-state, and how it seemed like the only thing any of the girls in your senior year would talk about was what sororities they planned on rushing, and how everyone you’ve ever known growing up acts like they have infinite amounts of time. “Everything will always work itself out,” you recall many of them saying. Even the local infrastructure reflects a government who seems to have no desire for its people to flourish, like the offensively awful roads.

Why does nobody have a sense of urgency? Or want to see bigger things and live bigger lives? Locals and tourists alike litter the beaches along the coast everyday and yet you had grown sick of it all. You feel stuck, like a hysterical bird in a cage.

You pick at your lunch. 

“I know what you mean. It sucks here,” you offer, which pleases Emma.

Boston is where you ended up. You had considered New York, admittedly influenced by Emma’s gushing, but after conducting some research, Boston seemed to be cleaner and was even farther away from Orange County than New York was.

So, as soon as you graduated, you packed up your life, got on the plane, and flew too close to the sun.

You were miserable in Boston.

Torturously so, you learned that Emma must’ve been utterly blinded by homesickness, because it turns out that there was nothing glamorous about the hustle. That romanticizing the idea of reaping the fruits of one’s labour only kept a person optimistic if their labour bore fruits at all. 

The majority of people you met there were as interesting as bricks. The recruiters at career fairs didn’t spare you a glance, let alone the time of day; and every club position or internship you applied to seemed to be taken by a D1 athlete son or a millionaire’s daughter. Each time you got beaten down, the drive you had gone there with would be exhausted further, without it feeling like you ever were going anywhere.

After four years of telling yourself you hated California more than you hated being lonely, you reached your breaking point. 

In a dingy, single-stall bathroom in the student union building, you had called your mother, shaking with sobs.

You were inconsolable, body racked with sorrow and helplessness—only barely able to choke out the words “I’m so tired” and “I hate it here.”

“You can always come home,” she’d said, kindly, patiently. Something you swallowed down that, in your anger with yourself, tasted like pity. It made your pride wail in protest.

And yet, you had yielded. Winding up right back in your hometown with insecurities gnawing at you about how you’re only back here because you weren’t good enough to make it out there. Feeling like you ‘belong’ anywhere had become even more of a pipe dream than it already was—but you don’t have an address in Boston anymore, and your father helped set you up with a decent job at a brokerage firm up in Irvine that you were set to start the coming Monday. 

You try to find comfort in the fact that there’s nothing you can do.

28-Down: Julia Roberts or Angelina Jolie

STAR.

“You pierced your ears?”

Propped up by the elbow, you watch as his eyes flutter open to look up at you. His gaze is warm and half-lidded, like the sleepy heat of incoming summer. A small smirk appears on his face at your curious expression. “Mhm.”

Your high school has a large, stately willow tree tucked away at the back of the soccer field that the two of you like to lounge under while you had spare periods and he skipped classes that, in his words, ‘weren’t important.’ Grass tickles your bare legs, so you slot them between his while gently toying with the silver cross dangling from his earlobe. “You went to that place I found on Google Maps?”

“I did it myself,” he murmurs, tilting his head to give you better access.

You freeze. “Heeseung, what do you mean you did it yourself?”

Heeseung’s hand is warm on your waist, tugging you closer into his side. “Relax, star girl. I bought a kit. You know Aidan did his with a safety pin?”

At this point, you’re horrified. “That’s— he’s gonna get an infection! What if you also—”

An indignified yelp nearly leaves you when his lips are suddenly on yours, swallowing the sound. He kisses you sweetly, only pulling away to whisper against your mouth that you ‘worry too much’ before closing the gap again. It doesn’t take much to get you to lose yourself in him.

In a perfect world, you were so eager to get out of California for the sole reason that you had too much ambition. Too much greed for fulfillment and the wonders life had to offer. You weren’t a coward, and you didn’t prefer running away from large emotions over admitting that you were just as affected by heartbreak as the next person. 

The pencil punctures a hole through the newsprint, right where the letter R that you wrote finishes. Your fingertips are red, your knuckles are white, and there’s a familiar burning in your nose.

You haven’t seen Lee Heeseung in four years. 

It’s a streak you pathetically hoped to keep up for the rest of your life—but, now that you’re back, it seems impossible. 

You can only pray that you moved on as much as you think you did.

The success of your father’s career had left him quite well-connected; a fact you wrestle with accepting due to the disappointing outcomes of your own networking efforts in college but, nonetheless, ends you up in the firm’s most recently-opened branch. 

It’s a nice, modern, ten-storey mid-rise—a good thing for you, since those absurdly tall towers always made you queasy by just looking up at them—with highlights like a few open-air workspaces and a rooftop garden. Inconveniently, you happen to start the job while they’re in the middle of renovating the air conditioning, so the windows near your corner of the fifth floor have been cracked open since you got there. 

Today, the weather’s rather forgiving—there’s a cool breeze instead of a warm one.

You’re in the break room, making a few copies of the interim report that you’ve been working on for the past few days, when you hear the door click open. Glancing over, you see Yerim, a senior analyst on your team, push through the threshold with a scowl on her face. 

Only two years older than you, Yerim had been the most welcoming to you when you first got here, and you found out that she’s from the same area as you. She’s chic, too—you’ve been meaning to ask her where she got the pair of burgundy kitten heels she always wears to the office.

Her head swivels left to right. After making sure you’re the only person inside the room, she lets out a rather unrefined groan. 

You give her a sympathy smile. “I take it that the meeting was boring?”

“And useless. What sane person holds an hour long meeting just to revise KPIs?”

You make small talk, conscious of your volume in case somebody catches you loitering in the break room on company time (not that you’ve ever been a particular stickler for the rules, but considering that you’ve only been here a week, you must still be on some kind of unspoken probation period). Eventually, the conversation flows into Yerim asking if you wanted to get drinks with her after work.

“There’s this place I go to all the time for their happy hour,” she tells you, eyes bright. “They do these crazy seven-dollar truffle fries that— Holy shit. I’d be buried with them if I could.” To which you let out a small laugh.

The last time you’d really gone out for fun must’ve been months ago—to that pub with the members of your capstone project. It was okay, at worst a little unmemorable, so maybe going out with Yerim would be a nice thing. You’d come back home with the resolve to be at least a little bit more optimistic about life here, anyway.

What’s the worst that could happen?

The copy machine spits out the final copy of your report, which you take and stack onto the rest of them. “I could go for a drink.”

Yerim’s arm links through yours the moment you step out of the car.

The setting sun casts long shadows between buildings and makes the asphalt warm beneath your soles; laughter and bossa nova tracks are faintly carried from nearby restaurants; and freshly clocked-out businessmen with loosened ties share a cigarette in front of their parked cars.

It’s nice, actually. You soak it all in.

You let Yerim drag you along until she stops in front of an ominously plain black door with a single, two-inch wide strip of window. It takes squinting for you to realize that there are tiny etched letters right underneath it. 

“The Magnolia?” you murmur.

“Best speakeasy in the area, in my opinion. Specialty is Japanese liquors,” Yerim says, before letting out a weary sigh. “But apparently someone snuck their teen influencer sister in and she made a video about it, so now it’s a lot more crowded than it used to be.”

She leads you down a dimly lit staircase that wraps around itself a few times until you arrive at another door, identical to the one out on the street. Grasping the onyx door handle, Yerim shoots you a look. There’s a glint in her eyes that you aren’t sure whether you should be worrying about.

Inside, the first thing you notice is that the room is larger than you expected. It’s moody and marigold-lit, with people scattered across the establishment’s lacquer tables and red leather seats on the floor and at the bar alike. As Yerim had noted, there’s an impressive display of Japanese liquor bottles behind the bar.

Delicate fingers wrap around your wrist. Yerim jerks her head towards two empty spots at the bar, gently tugging you along. “C’mon!”

You follow after her, hoisting yourself up onto the tall stool; exhaling softly through your nose when the cold, polished surface of the counter presses against your forearms. The low conversations of the other patrons and the different aromas wafting from the kitchen delight your senses. As you prop your elbow up to cradle your cheek in your palm, you can physically feel the muscles in your body going lax. 

This is nice, you think to yourself again. Maybe it was always this nice.

Existential self-negotiations always seem to find you, no matter the place or time. Somehow, even after having them plague you for your entire life, you still let them sweep you away—because you certainly don’t notice Yerim catching the attention of the bartender, and you certainly don’t notice him approaching the two of you. It’s only when the bleary outline of a body enters your peripheral vision do you snap out of your daze and look up.

Lee Heeseung stands in front of you, holding a cocktail shaker.

In that moment, several bodily sensations rip through you—most overwhelmingly of which is nausea.

Fuck.

You’re frozen. Physically incapable of moving out of shock; forced to bear the feeling of five hundred different emotions churning in the pit of your stomach, all while looking into his eyes. 

Something indecipherable passes over his face.

He recognizes you, too.

Somehow, Yerim doesn’t notice your predicament. “Can we open a tab?” she asks simply. “Oh, and also look at the happy hour menu.”

Heeseung’s eyes flit over to Yerim, as if assessing the situation, before his lips naturally fall back into the charming smile he always wore behind the bar. He picks a laminated menu from its holder and slides it over.

“Of course.” His voice is smooth as water. “Take your time. You can just wave me over whenever you’re ready to order.”

Yerim proceeds to pore over the menu, pointing out which things she’s tried and which ones she hasn’t but has heard good things about. The rational part of you feels bad about how everything she’s saying is going in one ear and out the other, but you’re despite yourself. Your eyes, ever-so-slightly glassy, are helplessly fixed on him.

Lee Heeseung looks different from what you remember. 

His once jet black hair is now a platinum shade of blond. He’s taller, broader—you can see the way his shoulders just barely strain against the fabric of his bartending uniform; a black dress shirt that he has the audacity to not button all the way up—and there’s a piercing on his right browbone. 

Futilely, you hope it just isn’t him. That it’s actually someone else who just looks like him (or maybe someone else who doesn’t look like him at all, and it’s just your mind fucking with you after coming back here). The Lee Heeseung you knew wanted to be a musician. Since when did he fucking bartend?

Yet, you knew it was a losing game the moment you saw him.

Round, doe-like eyes, sharpened when paired with regal brows. The same slope of the nose, the same heart-shaped curve of the lips.

You watch as he tends to a couple on the other side of the bar. His movements are graceful and practiced and infuriatingly suave—and you’re begging the traitorous part of your brain that found him hot to fuck off.

The notion of time healing has always been less of a source of comfort for you than it has been motivation. Perhaps it’s spiteful and childish, but you wanted to prove that breaking up with Lee Heeseung wasn’t the mistake that your sinking stomach has always told you it was. You would get over him, and after you did, you would hold your nose up high and wear it like a badge of honour.

But at that moment, Heeseung looks over at you and Yerim. It’s nothing more than a mere glance—probably to check on whether you were ready to order or not—but to your absolute horror, your gaze meets his.

Reality, in the form of another rolling wave of dread, washes over you mercilessly.

The sirens in your head start blaring. Nope, nope, nope. Not today.

“Yerim,” you blurt out, cringing with guilt for cutting her off. “Listen, I’m so— I’m so sorry, but I don’t feel that great.”

Brows furrowing in worry, Yerim asks, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You rack your brain for an excuse. “...must’ve been something I, uhm, ate at lunch,” you get out, laughing awkwardly while gathering your things. “Let’s do this another time. I’ll treat you, promise.”

As expected, Yerim is unconvinced by your lousy excuse, a frown marring her dainty features as she watches you slide off your seat. “Are you sure you’re good to drive? Do you want me to call you an Uber?”

“Oh, that’s so sweet, but I’ll be fine. I’ll see you!”

You hear an indistinct ‘okay’ from behind you, swallowed by the rest of the bar as you rush to the exit.

Lee Heeseung seems to have a sort of relaxed, easy demeanor while working that makes him really good with customers. It’s made his boss take a strong liking to him, which is both a blessing and a curse—it makes his pay better, but it also means he ends up with longer shifts. 

It’s a quarter past midnight when he finally steps out onto the street. 

The number of cars on the road had lessened while the number of people on the sidewalks had grown as they make their way towards the district’s nightlife. A breeze blows by as Heeseung walks up to the curb, brushing his hair into his eyes. He untangles a pair of wired headphones, using one hand to tuck them into his ears while the other shuffles through his playlist. 

Steve Lacy. Kali Uchis. DEAN. He settles on Daniel Caesar. 

Satisfied, he tucks his phone away before letting out a deep exhale. He had sworn to himself to always be professional while working, so it’s only when he’s finally alone does he try to discreetly compose himself and gather his scattered thoughts. His fingers twitch a little, itching for a smoke.

A few minutes later, a familiar grey Civic pulls up to the curb, rolling to a stop in front of him. Pausing his music, he approaches it and pulls the passenger side door open. Jake Sim greets him from the driver’s seat, eyes gleaming. “You been waiting long?”

“Three hours,” Heeseung drawls, arm propped up on the open door.

Jake grins. “Fuck! I was tryna make it five.”

As Heeseung slings himself into the passenger seat, Jake bends over the glove compartment, rummaging around in the backseat until he produces an In-N-Out takeout bag. “I went with Hoon earlier and took some out for you. Figured your fatass could use a pick-me-up.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees it, taking it from him and ripping the stapled top open. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, peering inside. A double-double, animal-style fries, and a medium Coke. “You want me to suck you off when we get back?”

“You’re so fucking gross, man. Just eat your burger.”

Heeseung snickers, stabbing the straw into his Coke. “You’re right. Minjeong would probably have it out for me.”

Silence blankets over them as the car cruises through the streets. Slouched against the car door, Heeseung eats quietly, watching everything—buildings, palm trees, the occasional night jogger—roll by outside of the window. Slowly falling into the way it all seemed to blur together.

For some reason, whenever Heeseung gets lost in his own head, his mind seems to drift to you. 

Sometimes for seconds, sometimes for minutes. Sometimes not at all, sometimes for so long it makes him want to tear his hair out. It usually happens when he’s reminded of you, like a memory popping up on his phone or an Instagram story from a mutual friend wishing you happy birthday—but he definitely hadn’t expected to actually see you ever again, really. You used to talk so tenaciously about getting out of California, so the second that you actually did, he thought you’d never be back.

He only snaps out of his daze when the car comes to a halt at a red light, making the outside of the window unblur. Jake snaps his fingers next to his ear. “Heeseung.”

“Huh?” Heeseung blinks.

“I was asking if you wanted the aux.”

“Oh. Play whatever, I’m good with anything.”

Jake taps around on his phone for a bit before a Frank Ocean song starts playing from the surround speakers, bouncing off the walls and filling the air. The red light changes to green, and the car starts up again. “Why are you so distracted?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the shit, dude. You’re all quiet. It’s freaky.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes before closing them, letting his head fall back against the headrest. 

“Y/N’s back,” he mumbles.

Jake, who had been mindlessly drumming to the rhythm against the steering wheel, falters. “What?”

“Y/N’s back in town.”

“Like, Y/N L/N? That Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. Heeseung looks over at Jake, whose brows are knotted together just slightly. “Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. She came in earlier.”

“Alone?”

“Nah. With a girl. I didn’t recognize her, though.”

Huffing air past his lips, Jake shakes his head. “Man, I thought she was never gonna come back to Cali. That’s what my mom said her mom made it sound like, at least.”

Your mother and Jake’s mother were close friends, often going out for things like coffee or brunch or Costco sprees (Jake’s mother holds a Costco membership that, bless her heart, she lets others abuse). 

“Did your mom know?” Heeseung prods.

Jake shrugs. “If she did know, she didn’t tell me. She probably hasn’t been back for long,” he says. “So… are you gonna try and talk to her?”

Heeseung laughs dryly. “She ran out the second she saw me.”

Almost comically, Jake’s phone dies, leaving the car quiet. Jake’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, and a beat goes by before he manages anything.

“Well,” he reasons. “She’s always been a little… I dunno… like that. Also, no one really expects to see their ex in a random bar.”

“I guess.”

“I mean, I think you should talk to her. She’s probably changed, like, in at least some aspects. Maybe the two of you can work it out.”

“Work it out? Are you serious?”

“Dude,” Jake deadpans. “You’ve been hung up on the same girl for the last four years, and by some fucking miracle, she’s back. Don’t sit here and bullshit in my face.”

“Okay, you’re wrong. I’m not ‘hung up’ on her anymore.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve never moved on. Potato potahto.”

Sighing, Heeseung mutters, “I don’t want to do anything if she clearly wants nothing to do with me, man.”

Jake doesn’t yield. “But you’d probably feel better if you at least tried.”

“Why would I feel better if she’s just going to tell me what she’s already made clear?”

“That’s only if she shuts you down. What if she says yes and the two of you run off into the sunset?”

A tired groan rips from Heeseung throat, half-muffled by his hand as he scrubs it down his face. “God, you’re so fucking optimistic. It pisses me off.”

“Yeah, and between the two of us, who’s cuffed and who isn’t?” Jake shoots back, only snickering when Heeseung shoves at him.

Mae’s childhood bedroom is the smallest bedroom in her house. Her window is west-facing and has salmon-coloured curtains, so when they’re drawn, sunlight filters through them and soaks the room in a cozy pale pink. 

It’s a museum of all the different stages of her life and, in a way, of yours too. 

Polaroids are pinned to the fairy lights that are strung up on her cream-white walls, many of which feature you. The soju bottles that she snuck from her father’s stash the first time the two of you drank are displayed on her dresser. Your last day before flying to Boston was spent in here, hugging your sobbing best friend while promising to call as soon as you landed. Its walls likely hold more of your secrets and memories than your own do.

As such, Mae knows all the joys and qualms Lee Heeseung has brought you over the years—and apparently like everything else, that hasn’t changed.

Your back hits her bed with a muted thud as you flop back against it, hair splayed out against the stitched quilt. You’re holding Mae’s stuffed Winnie the Pooh (who, despite already having a name, Mae has named Hugh G. Rection), squeezing it against your chest while you stare up at the slowly whirling ceiling fan. 

“I just ran out,” you groan. “I was with a coworker, too.”

Mae’s sat a bit across from you at her vanity, crocheting a Miffy keychain for her tote bag. Shrugging, she offers, “Pretty normal reaction to being jumpscared by your ex.”

Rolling over to look at her, your cheek squishes against the blanket. “He seems so… different. You know he dyed his hair blond?” you murmur in thorough disbelief. “Meanwhile he probably thinks I’m the exact same.”

“Who cares about what he thinks if he’s the one who got dumped?” Mae mocks, before finally tearing her gaze away from her crochet work to give you a deadpan stare. “Oh, wait. You do. Because you regret dumping him.”

An instinctive scoff escapes you. You grumble under your breath about how she ‘didn’t have to rub it in.’

No matter how hard you’ve tried to run away from it or leave it for dead, breaking up with Heeseung is something that has haunted you all these years—always coming out of hiding to choke you from behind when your brain gets just a bit too silent.

Leading up to it, Heeseung had been distant.

He would take hours longer than usual to respond to messages, his phone often went to voicemail, and when you sought him out (because, at some point, he had stopped seeking you out), he was detached. You would feel his hands on your waist and his lips on yours; but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it, at least not then.

You vaguely knew that he had a strained relationship with his father; one that only got worse after his mother passed. So, despite not knowing much, you truly tried to be as compassionate and understanding as you could be about his struggles or anything that seemed to come from his struggles.

But the gap between the two of you became so dark and scary and unbearably vexing. It felt like the more you tried to bridge it, the wider it would become.

Next thing you knew, the words we’re done were leaving your lips. 

It was rash and impulsive and not in any way lucid, but you couldn’t stop it from coming out, and if you had just had the next thirty or so seconds to collect yourself, you might’ve been stumbling over an apology.

Instead, the colour drained from your face.

Okay, he said.

That day, Lee Heeseung let you go without a fight.

For the first few years, you were nothing but just as angry as you were that day. Yet, as more time passed, you’ve become less sure exactly what to think about it. As much as Mae and the people over on the r/AmITheAsshole subreddit have told you otherwise, at some point you started finding it less emotionally burdensome to berate your seventeen-year-old self for being stupid and reckless than to harbour so much resentment towards him. You’re swallowed by a shame that feeds upon itself: shame over what you’d done to him curdling into shame over how the dignity you prided yourself so much on having wasn’t untouchable.

It makes your head hurt.

“I’m just pissed off because I was supposed to— to have moved on, you know?” you lament. “I was supposed to leave this place behind, leave him behind, but all I’ve done is come back to it and I can’t even say that I’ve moved on from the guy I dated when I was seventeen. Seventeen!”

Giving you a knowing, mildly exasperated look, Mae sighs. “Oh, babes. You really haven’t changed.”

Just as you open your mouth to curse at her, your phone vibrates. Snatching it up from next to you on the blanket, you glare at the screen.

(4:34PM) HEESEUNG: hey y/n it’s heeseung (4:34PM) HEESEUNG: do you still use this number

“Oh joy,” you spit bitterly. “He just fucking texted me. I knew I should’ve gotten a new number after switching phones.”

A pause. Mae squints, suspicious. “Give me your phone.”

Without thinking about it much, you hand it to her. You just want it out of your face.

(4:36PM) Y/N: yeah

“Mae, why are you typing?”

“I’m not.”

(4:36PM) HEESEUNG: hi haha (4:36PM) HEESEUNG: it’s been a while (4:36PM) HEESEUNG: i was just wondering if u wanted to catch up

“He’s asking if you want to catch up.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

(4:37PM) Y/N: sure  (4:37PM) HEESEUNG: when are u free? (4:37PM) Y/N: i don’t have work on weekends (4:38PM) HEESEUNG: i can do saturday afternoon (4:39PM) HEESEUNG: Do u still like lemon blueberry scones? (4:39PM) HEESEUNG: i know a nice bakery

Sitting up on your knees, you lean your weight onto one hand, the other trying to snatch your phone back. “What are you—”

(4:40PM) Y/N: saturday sounds good (4:40PM) Y/N: send me the place ^^

Finally, Mae tosses your phone back to you a little too smugly for your liking. You hastily pick it up, flipping it around and scanning over what stared back at you on the screen.

You chuck Hugh G. Rection straight at her head. “You’re such a fucking bitch!”

She holds up her arms, the stuffed animal bouncing off them and onto the floor with a muted thump. “Think about it,” she says with a click of her tongue. “The only reason why he’d text you, let alone ask you to catch up, is because he isn’t over you. He’s not over you, you aren’t over him. Put two and two together.”

“Can’t we just print out a picture of his face and throw darts at it?”

Crossing her arms, Mae sighs. “We could throw a million darts at his face and you’d still be going ‘what if I hadn’t broken up with him?’ forever. It’s a sunk cost fallacy. I think talking to him is the better option.”

“And then what? Get back together with him?”

“I meant closure, babes. But I guess getting back together works. If he hurts you again I’ll just break all of his bones and shave him bald.”

You wish you could say you’ve never entertained the thought of getting back together with Heeseung, but it always felt like pathetic, wishful thinking because you always thought he wouldn’t want the same. Otherwise, why would he have let you go so easily?

“Do you think he’s really changed?” you ask quietly.

Mae purses her lips with a soft shrug of her shoulders. “I mean, I’d hope so, considering that he’s an adult now, but I’m not sure. The last time I even saw the guy was at one of Jay Park’s house parties, like, two years ago?” She pauses, gaze flitting to the ceiling as she racks her brain for more information. “Oh, I also heard he lives with the Sims now.”

Your brows knot in confusion. “Like, Jake Sim’s family?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. I heard it from Janice. She told me her little sister’s in Girl Scouts and that one time, while she was taking her around the neighbourhood to sell cookies, they went up to Jake’s door and Heeseung answered. But, I’m not sure if he actually lives there or not.”

“Huh.” Your tongue pokes your cheek. “That’s news to me.”

“Maybe you can ask him about it on your date,” Mae muses, picking her crochet work back up.

“Call it a date one more time and I’ll unthread Hugh.”

“See, this is why you need to go. You keep threatening violence against my son.”

At one point in your life, you would’ve never fathomed that you could be nervous to see Lee Heeseung.

He had always been the person you ran to whenever the sky felt like it was falling and you didn’t know what to do to stop it from crushing you. Nirvana existed in the pools of his fond, half-lidded eyes and the crooning lilt of his voice, peppering kisses across your cheeks as you sunk into his hold like it was an endless abyss.

Now, you’re standing in front of the bakery he’d asked you to meet him in—a quaint mom-and-pop in an alleyway that split off from a bigger main road—hesitating to even go inside.

You smooth out the wrinkles in your top. 

You’re fidgeting. It sickens you enough that you muster up the will to grasp the door handle. An overhead bell jingles as you push inside.

You’re immediately hit by the rich scents of warm vanilla and browned butter, clinging thickly to the air. The worker behind the counter greets you, to whom you give a small smile. It’s a cozy space, with blackboard menus written in chalk hanging above the register and only a handful of seats next to the window looking out at the narrow street—all of which are empty. 

He isn’t here yet, you realize. Your shoulders drop a little.

Adjusting your sleeves for the nth time, you step up to the counter. Your eyes scan over the colourful assortment of breads, cakes, and pastries on display, all beautifully decorated and slightly imperfect in a way that could only come from human hands. Eventually, they land on the lemon blueberry scones he had mentioned, marked with a star and the word bestseller scrawled next to it in looping white marker. 

“Hi,” you greet the worker. “Could I just get a lemon blueberry scone, please?”

After your order is fulfilled, you take it with you over to one of the tables, sliding into the seat with a small exhale. For a moment, you just stare at the small plate in front of you. The pastry's flaky and golden-brown at the edges, blotches of deep purple dotting it throughout to show where the blueberries are hidden. You wonder how he had even remembered.

Then, your fingers curl around the pastry fork, carefully stabbing the corner of the scone before bringing it up to your lips. 

When it hits your tongue, your eyes slip shut. 

God fucking damn it. 

In all fairness, you’ve yet to try a lemon blueberry scone that wasn’t good; but this was a different level of warm and rich and buttery that you never thought you’d live to taste. A part of you had been hoping that it was going to be mediocre just so you didn’t have to acknowledge that Heeseung did, in fact, know a nice bakery—but not much at all seems to go your way when it came to him.

Whatever, you think, bitterly eating another piece. The asshole’s late. If he doesn’t show up in five minutes, I’m fucking right off—

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of a person’s voice makes you nearly jump out of your skin, fork clattering against the plate as you whip around in your seat—something you immediately regret when you come face to face with him.

Heeseung peers down at you, a hint of mirth in his eyes. He quirks a brow at your reaction. 

“Be careful. You’ll choke,” he says.

Your neck ticks with annoyance. You'd been planning on treating him with the same courtesy and slightly awkward restraint people normally treat those they don't know very well (or, in this case, don't know very well anymore), but the audacity of him makes a scoff escape your lips. “Maybe it's because you scared me.”

With a shake of his head, Heeseung leisurely slides into the chair opposite of you. You take him in as he does: the vintage leather jacket over his shoulders, the hair that falls effortlessly in front of his forehead, the faint smatter of freckles dusting his nose and cheeks that are visible now that you’re under natural daylight.

Once seated, he prods again. “It’s good, right?”

Your lips purse together. “Yeah,” you reply tersely.

Heeseung leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Not many people do.”

“You look nice.”

That catches you off guard. Your eyes widen a fraction, and you can feel your ears flushing with heat, which you pray goes unnoticed. “Thanks,” you manage. “You… don’t look too bad yourself.”

You don’t look at him, instead focused on cutting your scone into more pieces with the side of your fork, because you’re also certain that if you met his gaze, you’d find that Mae is full of shit. That Lee Heeseung had only asked you to meet because he’s malicious and evil and wants to size you up, and that there was no point in getting your hopes up. 

If you were looking at him, you’d perhaps notice the thinly veiled pleading in the way that he looked at you.

Another aproned worker comes up to your table, carrying a drink on a wooden tray. She places it in front of Heeseung, who accepts it with a smile and a brief thank you. It’s some kind of coffee or tea-based drink. An iced latte, you assume.

Long, slender fingers holding it by its lid, he takes a sip before putting it down. “Let’s play a game,” he says, out of the blue.

“Excuse me?” you blink.

“I asked you to meet me so we could catch up. So, let’s play a game.”

“What are we, children?”

Heeseung tuts softly. “Boston take all your sense of fun?”

Short, disbelieving laughs leave your lips at the sheer absurdity of the premise. Heeseung watches with a small smile as you stop wringing your wrists and straighten up in your seat.

 “And what, pray tell, is the game?” you drawl.

“I ask you a question, you ask me a question. We rotate.”

“That— that’s the game?”

“Mhm,” he hums around his straw. “That was your first question, by the way. When did you get back?”

“Are we really doing this? Two weeks ago.”

Heeseung nods a few times, processing the information, and then remains silent. Your turn, as if to say. You finally meet his eyes just to show him how unamused you are with him, but he only continues to look at you expectantly.

Rolling your eyes, you look outside of the window, where an old lady walking her pomeranian totters past. You don’t have a hard time thinking of questions you want to ask him. In fact, it feels like you’re bursting at the seams—desperately wanting to know how he really was, what you had missed, if you’d actually dealt him a good card by breaking up with him like you thought you did all this time, the irony of which doesn’t escape you—but everything seems to settle in the back of your throat, thick as tar.

Instead, your gaze falls on his eyebrow piercing. The surface glints in the afternoon light. You give a soft jerk of your head towards it. “You did that one yourself, too?”

“No, I actually went mountain biking with my cousin and cut my eyebrow. I figured covering it with a piercing would make me look more metal.”

“Mountain biking? No one just 'goes mountain biking'—”

A laugh, bright and irritatingly pretty, leaves Heeseung’s lips. “I’m pulling at your leg, star— Y/N.” 

He catches himself. Clears his throat weakly. You feel your stomach churn with something dreadfully close to disappointment. “I have a friend who does piercings. He also did my helix.”

“Ah. I see.”

“And you? The Pilgrims treat you well?”

Shooting him a glare, you pop another bite of scone into your mouth. “Boston wasn’t for me,” you say flatly.

“California wasn’t for you, either.”

“You know, I think I liked you better before I left. You talked back less.”

Slowly but surely, conversation flows in a steadier, more comfortable stream. It’s upsetting how easy it is to fall back into banter with him.

Between the two of you, Heeseung talks more. You don’t like admitting how your college years were average at best and miserable at worst, and you like the sound of his voice.

You learn many things—that he got a bartending license around a year ago, that the old strip mall by your high school was demolished because a luxury condo group bought out the land. That Valeria Sanchez is interning at NASA, that Isaac Banks got drafted to the NBA, and that Joseph Kim dropped out of Stanford to focus on the shitty AI start-up he co-founded. You learn that his lips still form a pout when he speaks and that you can predict the inflections of his laughter.

The two of you beat dead horses from what feels like a lifetime ago (except for the one horse that was more elephant-shaped than horse-shaped), and you can’t help but feel like you’re simply sitting with an old friend. It makes you wonder if you were just someone he had quietly filed away along with the rest of his adolescence; someone who was once important—who he could laugh about old memories with now that enough time had passed.

The last of Heeseung’s drink rattles through his straw. “Jake and Minjeong are dating now.”

You’d long since finished your scone, sitting there with your cheek propped up in your hand, a little dazed. “Actually?”

“Yeah. Took him two years of chasing her like a dog.”

Eyes darting to a scratch in the surface of the table, you debate back and forth whether to bring it up. Ultimately, you pry.

“Mae told me you live with Jake’s family now.”

Your try to keep your tone as casual as possible; a question in the form of a statement. But, something in his demeanor shifts. Silence falls over the two of you, until he eventually gets out, “Oh, yeah. I do.”

“How... how come?”

He wets his bottom lip, then smiles wryly. “My dad.”

“Oh,” you blurt, cringing at how stupid you sound. “He’s still bad?”

“Something like that.”

The tension that had just cleared had layered on again, thick and pungent. Regret sucker punches you in the gut for it.

“Sorry,” you quickly murmur. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Heeseung’s gaze softens. “It’s fine.” A loaded pause. A shift behind his eyes. “Nothing you don’t already know.”

At this hour, the sun sits lower in the sky, now washing the world with deeper shades of orange. The bakery is noisier than it was for the first bit that you had been here, with more people filing in and out for a small evening rush.

You tap your phone screen awake to check the time. 6:10PM, it reads.

“I should get going.” The words leaves your mouth less smoothly than you hoped for, but you swat that and the rest of the trivial moments you’ve been overthinking for the past two hours out of your mind. “I promised my mom I’d help her with dinner tonight, and the next bus is in seven minutes.”

Heeseung stands up with you. “The bus? You didn’t drive here?”

“My dad went to the golf course today and took the car.”

“Let me drive you back, then.”

Brows creasing, you wait for him to tell you he’s kidding, but it never comes. Instead, his doe-like eyes earnestly bore into yours. “I’m just parked out front.”

Suddenly, he’s swiftly moving to walk out of the bakery. You blink, trying to process what had just happened before hurriedly grabbing your things and following after him—only to see him stop right next to the curb and bend down to unlock the wheels of a motorcycle.

The motorcycle can only be aptly described as beautiful, covered in a lustrous black coating with cherry red accents and silver-rimmed wheels. You watch, stunned to the spot, as he picks up the black helmet that’d been sitting on the seat before turning around to you. You had seen this motorcycle outside of the window the entire time you were inside the bakery—never once had you expected it to be his.

“This is yours?” you gawk.

“Mhm.”

“Are you serious? You drive a motorcycle?”

He laughs, amused. “The bus takes, like, three hours to get anywhere. I can get you home way faster. C’mon.”

“Heeseung, I think I’ll die if I get on this thing.”

“You won’t,” he stresses. “You just have to hold on tight.”

“You only have one helmet.”

“And it’ll be yours for the ride. I can go without it.”

You beg your willpower to be strong enough, just this once. To cooperate with your tongue and just say no, or better yet, come up with an excuse. It would do you no good to let your stupidly attractive ex-boyfriend drive you home on his motorcycle.

The sweetest fruit is always forbidden, or whatever. You’re not in the right mind to entertain the specifics.

The vehicle beneath you is alive. Rumbling, rumbling.

Wind whips your face from every which way as the bike speeds through the streets. You can feel sweat beading where the helmet presses into your hairline.

Heeseung’s back is warm.

After that day, you and Heeseung keep in touch.

It started with texting; light conversation that wasn’t even continuous half of the time, since he would usually text you late at night after getting off work and you wouldn’t be able to see it until early morning while you’re getting ready for your commute—but it was just enough to make sure that the flutter in your chest never fully settled.

Then, there was the day that Heeseung witnessed a woman very messily divorce her husband in the middle of the bar, and had wanted to tell you about it but couldn’t be bothered to type it all out, so he started sending you voice messages. So on (“Heeseung? Did you mean to call me?” “Didn’t you just say that you wanted to know how to make peanut chili oil noodles?” “...I meant, like, maybe you could send me the recipe you use or something.” “It’s so much easier if I just tell you. Just turn your camera on and show me your kitchen.”), so forth.

You found him becoming a fixture in your life.

A small, irksome fixture that, in spite of making you feel like the tortured soul of your teenage self, also felt good. Intoxicating. It helped fill the empty spaces in your days with something other than resentment towards being back home—and, perhaps, you liked waking up to two missed calls and a voicemail from him, tipsy from a can of beer and three shots of tequila.

It's all in my head, you tell yourself as he lightly slurs about how pretty you are.

“Y/N?”

One of your more mellow playlists is currently playing from your phone, filling up the space in your room as you polish up a slide deck for work. You pause it when you hear your mother’s voice, slightly muffled and distorted from distance, calling for you from downstairs.

“Yeah?” you call back, brows in a knot as you fiddle with a rather stubborn PowerPoint asset. 

“Are you busy, honey?”

“Only for… a few more minutes, I think. Why?”

“Come downstairs after.”

It takes several more refinements and tweaks for you to finally be satisfied enough with the work in front of you to export it. Shutting the laptop lid, you push yourself up from your desk—a handful of joints cracking along the way after sitting for so long—before making your way downstairs.

You enter the kitchen to see your mother sitting at the dining table, one hand scrunched in her hair while the other anxiously taps the head of a ballpoint pen against a thick packet of papers. In fact, the entire table seems to be drowning in papers, precariously strewn across the surface. 

Upon hearing your footsteps, she whips around in her seat, a breath of relief leaving her lips. “Oh, good.” 

You blink. “Wow,” you murmur as you approach the table, carefully flipping through a few of the papers at the top of the stack. Mortgage statements, bank documents, notes. “What’s all this?”

“It's nothing, really. I just have an appointment with the bank tomorrow morning,” she brushes off. “Listen, honey, can you do me a favour and bring this down to Jake’s house?”

“Jake’s house?” Your gaze follows where she’s pointing to a cardboard box on the ground next to the fridge. There are a variety of what seem to be baking tools inside. 

“I borrowed a couple of things from Jake’s mom that I’ve been meaning to return for a while. I would do it myself, it’s just this—” she gestures broadly to the sea of paperwork swallowing her, “—is keeping me a bit busy at the moment.”

You purse your lips. As tempted as you are to offer to just go through all the papers for her, knowing how headstrong your mother is, you doubt she would accept the help. Instead, you simply nod, picking up the box and leaving with a quick I’ll be back soon tossed over your shoulder.

Outside, nearby porch lights had begun to flicker on. The world is steeped in the pale, blue hush that followed sunset, with the last strip of orange stubbornly clinging to the horizon. It's twilight—there's still enough daylight to see the outlines of trees and to keep the stars just barely hidden from view. The evening breeze carries the sweet scent of burning smoke and the low, shapeless murmur of people talking, and cars line the curb, overflowing from someone's driveway. Someone in the neighbourhood must be having a barbecue.

Jake Sim’s house is two blocks down from yours, across from a school bus stop and a local dog park. When you reach it, you make your way up the driveway, then the familiar cobblestone path, before arriving at the front door.

The doorbell rings; a cheerful melody that bleeds through the door. While you wait, you glance around the area, taking in the scene. Potted plants hang from mounted cast iron hooks above the porch, and the ginkgo trees that Jake’s mother had planted herself have noticeably grown taller.

Through the distorted glass on either side of the door, you see movement. Then, the silhouette of a person. You straighten up a bit as the door opens, expecting to see the kind, serene face of Jake's mother—

"Y/N?"

—only to be met with Lee Heeseung's instead.

Which is strange, because Lee Heeseung is definitely supposed to be at work right about now, like he usually is.

If you had known that he would be the one answering the door, you would've been way less relaxed on your way here. He's dressed comfortably—a cream grey hoodie, black sweats, slippers—and yet, despite that, you suddenly feel very insecure about what you're wearing yourself.

You gawk at him for a moment before you can get your tongue to form any words. "Oh," you sputter out. "Uh, hi."

Your greeting makes the initial surprise on his face give way to amusement. Hands sliding into his pockets, Heeseung's lithe form leans against the doorframe, and the corners of his lips quirk up. "Hi."

"I— I thought you'd be at work."

"I took the day off."

Well. That explains it, doesn't it.

You clear your throat. "My mom borrowed some stuff from Jake's mom and she asked me to return it."

Heeseung hums, peeking at the contents of the box. "Jake and his parents are visiting his aunt in Vegas, so it's just me in the house this weekend."

"Oh... if that's the case, I'll just come back another time—"

"No, you can bring it in. I was just making dinner. Here—" He moves to take the box from you, not without his hands brushing yours, before walking back into the house. You watch the back of his form disappear further inside before a scoff bursts past your lips. ("So full of shit," you mutter under your breath while you toe off your shoes in the foyer.)

Jake's house has always been a little cozier than both yours or Mae's. It's cluttered in a way that feels lived in, with all sorts of gear and equipment dotted around the place, as his family has always been the type to go on camping or fishing or skiing trips together. You're distracted by the framed childhood photos of Jake and his older brother propped up on a nearby table when suddenly, you hear a sound.

A bark. Paws skitter and scamper across tile.

Your eyes widen as a large, cream-coloured border collie appears from around the corner, barking excitedly.

"Woah!" A laugh escapes you as the dog bounds up to you and starts to slither in between your legs in happy figure eights. You don't remember Jake having a dog before you left. "Who's this?"

"Her name's Layla." Heeseung's voice rings from another room. "Jake got her a few years back. She likes new people."

Crouching down to greet her, you can’t help the smile that paints your lips. She’s cute, all bright-eyed and tail wagging all over the place. Your fingers seem to disappear into her soft, silky coat as you rub at the scruff of her neck and scratch behind her ears. 

“Hi, Layla,” you coo. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

She licks your hand sweetly in response, which makes you giggle.

Eventually, your hand slips away as you push yourself to stand (much to the dog’s protest) and set off to find where Heeseung had gone. He’d been making dinner, you remember. So, you start making your way towards the kitchen—Layla trotting along beside you, fur brushing against your calves occasionally—but your steps stall when you pass by the living room.

The room is rather dim, the only light sources other than the sliver of remaining day being the two Tiffany lamps, and its centrepiece, a malt-coloured sofa, is currently pulled out into a bed. An unmade bed, evidently; rumpled sheets, askew pillows, and a duvet bunched up at the foot of the mattress. It’s his, you assume.

But, what catches your attention instead is the Macbook sitting a bit away from the edge, open to what looks like a music software.

A groan comes from behind you. “Fuck. Ignore that, please.”

Turning your head, you watch as Heeseung saunters in, holding a steaming bowl and a fork spearing a piece of bolognese-covered rigatoni pasta. He stops next to you and grimaces at the state of the area. “I was taking a nap earlier and I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

You don’t respond immediately, gaze still on the open laptop. A memory, frayed and timeworn, passes through your mind.

On a particularly ordinary late August day, you’re freshly seventeen. Warm thighs pillow your head and the air at the skate park smells like eucalyptus and cigarette butts and salt blown in from the coast.

“I just wanna hear a little bit. Just a little,” you plea. “Please?”

Your best puppy-dog eyes make him laugh before he gives in, removing the headphones from around his neck to slot them over your ears.

First comes a lazy rhythm, then a jazz guitar—then, his voice.

You look up at him to find that he’s already looking down at you, and you slide the headphones off just in time to hear him say that this one is about you.

“You still make music?” you ask quietly.

The question catches Heeseung off guard. “Oh.” Walking over, he picks up the laptop and moves it to the side table (closing it in the process) before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. There’s a certain dejection that scratches the surface of his tone. “I mean, yeah. When I have time.”

He pats the space next to him. “C’mon, sit.”

You find yourself doing just so, making sure to leave a gap between you and him. Two beats go by before you muse, “I thought you wanted to do music full-time.”

“Yeah.”

“So you ended up pouring drinks for people because...?”

“Because the stereotype about art majors is true?” he chuckles dryly. “It’s fine, though. I like bartending. It’s fun. I make good tips.”

His fork scrapes against the bottom of the now-empty bowl. “I also do it so I can pay Jake’s parents a rent. It’s less than I’d like to, but they won’t let me give them more than what it is right now.”

You wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re stuck lingering on his side profile.

Something throbs in your chest.

For all the ways in which he’d changed, there are as many parts of Heeseung that are so achingly familiar. His eyes, his mannerisms, the cadence of his speech—you can trace the boy you’d once known in the person he’d grown into. In that same vein, he still carries the same guardedness that had driven you to the brink.

He’s still hiding from you, after all this time.

You can’t fault him for it now—the two of you are broken up—but you can’t help but think about how Jake’s parents probably know what Heeseung had gone through. Jake probably knows, too.

Were you the only one who didn’t?

You want to ask. Oh, how badly you want to ask. How did you end up here? How did we end up here? The questions claw at the back of your throat, begging for answers.

But at some point, without realizing, Layla had curled up at your feet, and you had leaned back on your hands far enough that your pinky now rested against his, and you had become hyperaware of how settled in you are to his space—

—and suddenly, it feels like you’ve severely overstayed your welcome.

You stand up. The abrupt movement makes Layla whimper, nosing at your leg in an attempt to get you to sit down again. Heeseung blinks in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I should get going,” you say jerkily. “I told my mom I'd only be gone for a bit.”

A frown mars his face. “It's dark. I can walk you back.”

“I'll be fine, it’s just two blocks.”

“Y/N…”

“I said I'll be fine, Heeseung.”

Before he can protest any further, you’re already spinning on your heel and rushing to leave. You’re running again, as it always feels most familiar to do—you’d rather leave the unspoken for another day, or, better yet, leave it untouched forever—and this time, you can hear him trailing after you. Quiet, almost careful footsteps that contrast your own hasty ones.

Night greets you when you wrench open the front door. Her tranquil air and inky sky and canopies of stars indulge your avoidance. You’re relieved. Elated, even; stepping past the threshold into her open arms—only to be gently tugged back over.

You don’t register the fingers delicately clasped around your wrist before your cheek collides with soft fabric. A heartbeat thumps beneath your ear.

Lee Heeseung is hugging you.

It’s far from a tight hug; if anything, his arms seem to loosen more and more around your waist with each second that you don't react and doubt creeps into his veins. You have every chance to pull away.

You don’t. You can’t.

“What are you…” You hate how hoarse your voice is.

“I don't know,” Heeseung whispers. Dipping his head, his forehead comes to lightly rest on your shoulder, the warm ripples of his breath fanning against your collarbone. “...I think I missed you.”

You immediately scoff into his chest. Of course. How fucking eloquent. “You think? Are you serious?”

Heeseung laughs. It twinkles in a way that makes your heart clench. “Mm, yeah. I think.”

“Fuck you.”

“Right back at you, star girl.”

A pause.

“You're doing this on purpose,” you say weakly.

“Like I said,” he mumbles, a hand lifting to gently toy with the ends of your hair, twirling some of between his fingers. “I think I missed you.”

The statement is raw and painfully honest. It seeps into you like water to a wilted flower and makes your traitorous heart flutter alive with hope. You screw your eyes shut—so tightly the pressure makes colours explode behind your eyelids—and pray to a higher being that he doesn't notice the way your breaths come out all shuddery.

A car passes by on the street, tires crunching against the asphalt road. Coming, then going. Moths flutter around the overhead porch light as they watch over the two of you.

You fight against every urge that's telling you to let your own arms wrap around him as well.

When his head finally lifts, Heeseung takes a single step backward, hands sliding down to rest on the small of your back. You try to find something interesting about the old, tattered wood of the porch before your resolve wavers under the weight of his gaze and you raise your head.

Subconsciously, your eyes lands on his lips, tracing their shape, then sliding up. His irises shine honey brown under the yellowed light, swirling with a sad sort of fondness. "It's nice having you back."

Longing crashes over you in brutal, vicious waves—pulling you under—

—until you can't breathe. “Kiss me.”

Heeseung's eyes widen. “What?”

“Kiss me,” you beg hoarsely. “Before I regret it.”

For the past four years, you’ve been trying to forget Lee Heeseung.

Forget how pretty his smile is and how gentle his hands are and how he made you feel a high no one else seemed capable of giving you. Forget how, at one point, the only reason you would’ve ever stayed in California was because he had made it feel like the good would've outweighed the bad. That it would've been worth it.

Yet, all that progress feels for naught—because muscle memory is anything but fickle, and your lips mold to Lee Heeseung's like not a single day has passed since he last held you in his arms.

The world seems to fall away around you.

Heeseung doesn’t falter as your arms sling around his neck to pull him in, his own arms banded around your waist pinning you flush against him all the same. The kiss deepens, and when one of his hands slides down the length of your back to squeeze your hip, you exhale a shaky breath that you didn't even know you were holding in.

Closer. You want him closer.

“Closer?” he whispers, teasing.

Fuck. Did I say that out loud?

You slap him on the shoulder. Heeseung only laughs.

Without letting go, he turns the two of you around and starts to guide you back into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. You stumble over your own feet, clinging to him on instinct as to steady yourself—something that makes him smile against your lips.

He walks you backwards until he can push you up against a wall. The impact doesn’t hurt, but it’s firm enough to rattle the photo frame next to your head and make you choke out a shocked gasp. The wall is cold behind you. Seeping through your clothes and biting at your spine before sprawling across the expanse of your back—yet you still feel like you’re burning alive.

Thud. Your head falls back against the wall when his mouth finally leaves yours just to reattach to your neck, lips parting as he nips and sucks at your pulse. Your hips buck reflexively, but his hands—his stupid fucking hands—keep them in place.

Heeseung clicks his tongue. “Impatient.”

“I'll fucking kill you,” you spit, only for a reedy moan to tear from your throat a second later. “H—Heeseung…”

“Mm?” he hums, the sound vibrating against you.

“Want... you…”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Heeseung, I swear to god—”

He shushes you between laughs, lips trailing up to find yours again. “'m just messing with you, baby. You have me.”

And when you feel his hands slide to the backs of your thighs, subtly urging you up, the last shreds of your resolve crumble into ash. A white flag flies high.

Fumbling with your phone, you manage to send your mother a sloppy, typo-riddled message about 'staying at Mae’s' before carelessly tossing it aside.

Legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you dizzy.

You wake up to the mockingbirds’ song and the whirring of the garbage truck down the street.

For a moment, you don’t know where you are. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds, and you can't seem to bring yourself to care about prying them open. All you know is that you’re cocooned in warmth. Deep, impossible warmth that you want to sink into forever and never come out of.

But, slowly, the fog lifts. You’re naked, you realize; there’s an arm around your middle and soft puffs of air brushing the nape of your neck. The cool sheets skim your bare skin, rustling softly as you shift around until you’re met with Heeseung’s face.

On the same pillow, inches away from yours. Washed in early sunlight and softened with sleep. Your eyes flit over his every feature.

As memories from last night come trickling back in, you think you're in a dream. A sickeningly lucid one, but a dream nonetheless. That none of this—coming back home, seeing Heeseung again—was real, and if you pinched yourself right now, you'd wake up in your shoebox of an apartment in Boston, having passed out at your laptop in the middle of tweaking your resume for the billionth time.

At that moment, Heeseung stirs. His brows scrunch, as they always did, before his eyes blink open to look at you.

Lee Heeseung had always been easygoing by nature. Relaxed. Nonchalant. Sometimes just cocky enough to get under your skin. So, when you meet his eyes and find something terrifyingly vulnerable pooling in them, you feel like your heart is free-falling through the sky.

He reaches a hand out, gently tucking a loose lock of hair back behind your ear, lingering there—before he pulls you close in a hug.

Fuck.

“Sleep okay?” he mumbles into your hair. “Know this mattress isn't the most comfy.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your arms wrap around him just as tight, burying your face into his neck.

“'s okay,” you reply weakly.

Clean cotton.

He smells of clean cotton. A smell you’ve learned, over and over again.

Tenderly cradling the back of your knee in his palm, he gently draws you toward him before settling between your spread thighs, hips slotting into yours. His body drapes over you like a blanket. You like the weight of him.

You feel a shaky breath exhaled next to your ear, followed by a kiss pressed to the skin beneath it. “You’re okay, star girl?”

“Yes,” you snap, immediately regretting it.

You can’t help it. You want him to be bitter; to give as good as he gets so you’d have something to push against. But he doesn’t. He's so gentle it's unbearable; checking in with you, handling you like you’re made of glass. Every time you bite at him, he just meets it with patience. Teasing, at most.

It makes you feel like the shittiest person in the world.

The corners of your eyes water, ever so slightly. “Just... just fuck me. Please.”

Hot, white sparks burst behind your eyes when he finally pushes in. Your mouth falls open, a broken moan akin to a sob tumbling past your lips. “Fuck— fuck, oh my god…”

He shushes you softly, his own voice frayed with pleasure. “I know, baby. You feel so good. So—fuck—good around me…”

He’s still for a moment, letting you adjust, before starting to move. Slow at first—then just fast enough. At some point, his hand finds yours, fingers interlacing beside your head. All you can do is arch your hips up and cling to him as tightly as possible as you're swallowed whole by sensation.

God, you had missed him.

“Take me back.”

It’s like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head.

You think you mishear him. He had said something else, perhaps—it’s not like you’re the most coherent right now—or it had just been a sound of the night outside.

But, it replays in your mind. Once. Twice. A third and fourth time, for good measure.

His movements had slowed, now just barely rocking into you. You turn to look at him, but his face is buried deep in the crook of your neck, hiding there. Your fingers tremble as they thread through his hair, lightly pulling at the roots. A silent plea for him to look at you. He doesn’t budge.

“Take me back.” His voice catches, muffled against your skin. “I was— I was so stupid.”

You’re at a complete loss. “You’re not thinking straight,” you blurt.

A laugh escapes him, quiet and broken around the edges.

“Yeah?” he whispers. “'m not?”

Your throat feels so, so dry.

“You’re not,” you whisper back.

Heeseung’s arm falls from around your waist as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Propping himself up by the elbow, he watches you pick your clothes up from off the floor and slip them on, half-lidded gaze following the lines of your movements.

When you check your phone (which you’d also picked up from the floor), there’s a missed call and a text that says Use protection xx from Mae.

Pause. You frantically scramble to parse through the haze of last night—until you reach the memory of you tearing open a condom packet.

Oh, thank god. That’s a relief.

“Where’s the bathroom again?” you ask over your shoulder.

Heeseung nods toward the hallway. “Second door on the left.”

Murmuring a small thanks, you drag yourself to the bathroom, flicking the light switch on—only to stop short when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes zero in on the fat bruise at the base of your neck.

You groan.

“Lee Heeseung!” you yell, dragging a hand down your face.

A moment later, Heeseung appears in the doorway, now at least with a pair of pants on, though he’s still shirtless. You make a pointed effort to not look for too long, opting instead to shoot him your most annoyed glare.

His gaze flicks to your reflection in the mirror, then to the mark on your neck. He bites back a smile. “Nice hickey.”

You shove at his chest. “You gave it to me, dipshit! My parents are gonna see this shit when I go home!”

“Just don’t go home,” he muses, catching your wrist lightly. “Stay here. Jake won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

Rolling your eyes, you briefly scan the bathroom counter. There isn’t much on it, save for a soap bar, some shaving products, and a few bottles of women’s anti-aging skincare. “Do you have any makeup?”

Heeseung steps behind you, arms snaking around your waist, squeezing your middle. “You wanna cover it up? It's pretty, though.”

Your cheeks flush. “It's humiliating,” you mumble, pushing his arms off.

An airy hum. “Mrs. Sim probably has some. You can probably use some of hers, I’m sure she wouldn't mind.” He gently pats your hip before ducking to leave. “Come to the kitchen after.”

"Why?"

"Breakfast."

"I... appreciate it, but I'll pass. I really should get go—"

He's gone before you finish speaking.

"Bastard," you curse under your breath, starting to rifle through the drawers.

They’re mostly stocked with bathroom supplies: spare toothbrushes, towels, floss picks. A misplaced dog toy, maybe.

But, you’re pulling things open a little too quickly, and one drawer slides farther than expected, revealing a discreet side compartment with an orange prescription bottle sitting inside. Certainly not something that would help you cover a hickey, so you move to push it closed—when you catch a glimpse of something in the corner of your eye.

—E, HEESEUNG

You squint.

Before you can decide whether it’s a good idea or not, you carefully pick it up, turning it over in your hand to read the label.

LEE, HEESEUNG SERTRALINE 150 MG Tablet Used to treat major depressive disorder Mfr: AAA Prescriber: Dr. Wang, Martin Take one tablet by mouth once daily Qty: 30 Refills remaining: 1

Oh.

Hm.

A voice pops in your head.

Since when?

Another.

Why?

Another.

Back then... too?

Another. Another. Another. Some new, some resurfacing after lying dormant for a few years. The rational, slightly self-conscious part of your mind argues that there’s no point in trying to answer them because you don’t have the right to and, even if you did, what does it matter?

But if this wasn’t recent—if it had been going on for a while, maybe even back when the two of you were together—wouldn’t you have wanted to know?

Whatever.

You’ve really been here for too long.

Heeseung pokes his head out from the kitchen as you briskly walk by, a can of instant coffee in his hand. “You’re really not staying for breakfast?”

Glancing back at him, you falter. He looks a little confused, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually be in such a rush to leave.

For a second, you consider it; sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee while he makes breakfast. You would jokingly complain about how you're starving and he needs to hurry up—to which he would crack a stupid sex joke and you would tell him to go to Hell.

The scene is so tempting it makes you sick. Instead, you force a smile.

“I’m good. Thanks,” you say, slipping on your shoes.

He frowns as you pull the door shut behind you.

It’s tragically ironic that all you’ve been able to think about is Lee Heeseung when you haven’t heard from him since.

Five days have gone by in unsettling silence. At first, you thought he might’ve gotten caught up with shifts at the bar and what not, too busy to check his phone—only to see him in the background of Jake’s Instagram story, watching his friend shotgun a Modelo.

You’ve been trying, sincerely, to not overthink things (like how he’d reacted to the last message you sent him—an affirmation that you’d gotten home safely that morning—with a heart, only to change it to thumbs up a few seconds later) but between him asking you to take him back, him ignoring you after asking you to take him back, and the fucking agonizing realization that you would in fact, given the chance, take him back—Heeseung has occupied an unreasonably large space in your brain. A crowded space where questions bleed into assumptions, and assumptions into long-repressed memories that leave you awake at night.

Mae told you to reach out. You laughed in her face, so you don’t tell her where you’re going today.

Walking down the same winding staircase Yerim led you down weeks ago, you swallow your pride before pulling the door open.

The Magnolia is busier this time around. It seems like every seat is occupied, and the air buzzes with conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter and clinking glass. It’s Friday evening, after all—and, judging by the tipsy group of people loudly serenading a noticeably embarrassed woman, someone’s twenty-sixth birthday.

If you remember correctly, Heeseung should be working tonight.

You approach the crowded bar and slide into a seat that's just been emptied. Wringing your wrists, your eyes dart around the area, the blur of movement, the faces of others.

You spot him.

Reaching for bottles without even looking, cracking an easy smile at something a customer says (who’s clearly interested in him, you can see it in her eyes). He’s magnetic when he’s in his element, and you can’t help but stare, even while you try to tamp down the lump in your throat from seeing him just fine while you feel like you’re going insane.

When he turns, he sees you.

You know he does.

For a second, he doesn't move. Then, he looks away.

Instead of coming over, even just to serve you as a customer, he heads towards another bartender—a middle-aged man with tattoo sleeves—while untying the apron around his waist. They exchange some words that you can't hear before Heeseung disappears into the back, tongue in his cheek.

You wait for him to come back out. Your stomach is in knots.

A minute goes by, then two.

Then, he finally comes back out, but he doesn’t come towards you. In fact, he doesn’t stop at all—he walks straight past the bar, past the tables, and straight out of the exit.

You emerge out onto the street, the murder of crows overhead on a telephone line cawing as you do. Your knees burn from the stairs, and soft pants blow past your lips with every rapid pump of your lungs. Closing your eyes briefly, you compose yourself as best as you can before swivelling around.

Heeseung is sitting on a wooden crate propped up against a parking metre. A lit cigarette dangles from his fingers while he scrolls through his phone.

Your hands clench into fists, nails biting into the flesh of your palms.

You want to scream. Curse him out for everyone to hear—because what the fuck happened? Why did he just run out? Why is he avoiding you? What did you do wrong?

Why do you feel like crying?

Instead, you force your fingers to unfurl. “I thought about it,” you say.

Heeseung doesn’t look up.

“I think we should try again.”

He takes a drag from the cigarette, blows the smoke out, then taps the ash onto the ground. “Nah, we shouldn’t.”

You blink. What?

“Excuse me?” you sputter, voice ringing hollow.

“We shouldn’t get back together.”

“You literally said a week ago—” 

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” he drawls. “Remember?”

You just stare at him, stunned. You try to make sense of what his words, but your mind is muddled with scratchy white noise. Then: “Heeseung, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Letting the hand holding his phone drop limply, Heeseung finally meets your gaze with his own bored one. “What?”

“Why—” Hurt bleeds into the cracks of your anger. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because we dated when we were seventeen,” he responds dryly. “We were stupid and young, and we’ve grown since then. We’ve always been different, Y/N, and we probably still are. Maybe too much. It’d never work out—”

“Are you over me?”

He falls silent.

Your laughter drips with mockery. “Clearly neither of us have grown that much.”

“...Whatever.” He leans back against the parking metre, shaking his head. “Just drop it. I don’t think it would work.”

“No, I won’t drop it,” you grit out. “You don’t get to tell me to drop it.”

Taking one last drag, Heeseung lets the cigarette fall to the ground, grinding it out underneath the sole of his shoe. He shoots you a brief glance. You’re noticeably upset. He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought before breaking the silence. 

“You left my meds on the bathroom counter,” he deadpans.

Hearing that makes you deflate. You don’t remember doing that.  

“O— Oh,” you stutter, embarrassed. “Sorry, I just— I saw it while I was flipping through the drawers and—” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re depressed. So what? Big deal.”

A harsh sigh. “Y/N, I don’t need you to pity me. Stop pretending you didn’t leave the second you found I have fucking problems.”

“What? I didn’t leave that day because of anything that I found out.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t!”

“Then why were you in such a rush to leave?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I wasn’t proud of the fact that I had sex with my ex-boyfriend?” you retort incredulously. 

“Okay, and what about when we broke up? Wasn’t that because you were tired of putting up with my bullshit?”

He’s angry now, too; voice louder and thunder flashing behind his eyes. The apathy he’d been wearing this whole time had given way to an irritation that mirrors your own. Even so, there’s a bitter edge to it all—the words strained with a contempt directed more to himself than towards you.

You tear your gaze away from him. “You know what? Fine. Maybe I left. But you— you let me.”

“What?”

“You let me walk away.”

“What are you talking about? You broke up with me.”

“And you just let me.”

“Y/N, you aren’t making any sense. You wanted to leave—”

“I wanted you to care!” 

The words tear from your throat, breaking near the end. Cutting him off and settling between the two of you heavily. You don’t notice how the fight seems to drain out of him at your outburst, because your heart feels like it’s about to crack open into a million pathetic pieces. “I— I was tired of you shutting me out. Do you know much I wanted to help you but I couldn’t because you wouldn’t talk to me about anything? If you had just told me how you were struggling I could’ve— done something. Anything.”

“Y/N—”

“And… and I’ll admit that I was stupid, and that I broke up with you on a whim but oh my fucking god— I thought you would at least tell me not to go!” You card a shaky hand through your hair, blinking back tears. “But you just— you just let me leave. You didn’t say anything, Heeseung. Not ‘wait a minute’ or ‘let’s work this out’. You didn’t fight for me— for us at all. So of course I left. What else was I supposed to do?”

Silence hangs in the air, suffocating the both of you. He lets out a chipped, disbelieving laugh. “You… wanted me to stop you.”

“Of course I wanted you to stop me!”

The first teardrop traitorously slips down your cheek. You furiously wipe at it with your fingertips before any more can follow. You know he’s looking at you, and you refuse to let him see how small you feel under his gaze.

So, you spin on your heel.

“Fuck you,” you spit before storming off.

Heeseung has been staring at the ceiling for a really, really long time.

He can’t be sure how long, but it’s long enough that his spine has essentially fused to the couch, his longest playlist has looped three times through, and he’s become so disconnected from his surroundings that he doesn’t notice Jake coming back from his date with Minjeong until he’s looking down at him with a cocked brow, hair slightly mussed and a jacket tossed over his shoulder.

The fog in Heeseung’s eyes clears as sensation returns; the room settling back into focus, the weight of his hands folded over his abdomen.

“Oh. You’re back.” He gently removes the pair of silver headphones slotted over his ears. “How was your date?”

Dropping into a nearby armchair, Jake slouches back against it, an easy smile on his lips. “It was good. We went to some fancy Italian place Minjeong saw on Reels.”

“You’re a little red. You drank?”

Jake shrugs. “Just one glass. Minjeong though…” He pinches his nose bridge, exasperated. His girlfriend has never been particularly good at holding her liquor—always winding up loud and clingy and extremely giggly after having a barely substantial amount to drink. “When I dropped her off at her place, I offered to take care of her, but Rina shoved me out the door. I’ll have to call her in a bit. Make sure she hasn’t died or something.”

Heeseung hums absentmindedly. It takes him at least thirty seconds to realize that Jake is giving him a very particular look.

A sigh leaves his lips, gaze rolling back up to the ceiling. “What?”

“Are we gonna sit here until you talk or are you gonna make me do the corny shit where I have to ask you what’s wrong?”

That pulls a laugh out of Heeseung. “Y/N knows that I’m depressed,” he says, after a while.

Jake blinks. “You told her?”

“I didn’t… tell her.”

Heeseung flip-flops on whether or not talking to Jake about this is a smart idea before deciding that there’s, quite literally, no point inholding back. So, he recounts everything—you coming over, the two of you sleeping with each other (“You screwed a girl in my parents’ house? Do you not have a lick of shame?” “Stop fixating on unimportant side details.”), you finding his medication, the fight from a few days ago—in the nonchalant, offhandish way guys do when they’re talking about their feelings with each other.

For a long moment, Jake just stares at him. “Wow.”

“What?”

“You gotta be the dumbest fucking person I know.”

“Thanks. Good talk, Jake.”

“No, seriously.” Jake leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “Most people would be geeked out of their minds if they wanted their ex back and their ex not only wants them back too, but goes out of her way like she did.”

Heeseung doesn’t meet his gaze. Flicking a bit of dust off the couch cushion, he murmurs, “I don’t know what she’s doing.”

“Are you fucking with me? She literally said she wants you back.”

“People say things.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jake groans. “You always act like the only reason anyone would want you is because they feel sorry for you.”

“I don’t know, man. Didn’t you parents—” Heeseung bites his tongue, not wanting to end up arguing with his best friend either. “I just don’t know.”

“My parents took you in because they’ve always loved you as their own son.” Jakes says it casually, matter-of-factly—as if it’s stupid for anyone to think otherwise. “You ever think maybe she loves you too?”

Heeseung’s eyes screw shut as the words hit his ears. “Even if we got back together,” he starts, voice thready. “What then? I’m still all kinds of fucked up.”

“You’re not fucked up, dude.”

“I still have a shitty temper. I still shut down over the smallest things and push everyone away. It’ll just happen again and she’ll end up hurt—”

“So work on it,” Jake says firmly. “You stop assuming she wouldn’t do for you what you would for her and you start trusting her.”

“I can’t give her what she deserves, Jake.”

Pushing himself to a stand, Jake looks down at Heeseung, sprawled out on the couch in quiet defeat. Something sympathetic crosses his face at the sight of his best friend, who always kept his emotions neatly tucked away, visibly anxious. He must really be tearing himself apart over this.

“If I’ve learnt anything from having a girlfriend, it’s that they don’t want you to decide for them what they can or can’t handle. Even—” Jake points a finger at Heeseung when he opens his mouth, cutting him off preemptively. “—if we think we’re doing the right thing.”

His arms fold over his chest. “Don’t you love her?”

Heeseung’s gaze drifts to the far wall. “Yeah,” he says, barely audibly. “I do.”

A nod. “Then hold onto her this time.”

It’s not to say that the beaches on the East Coast don’t have sand and water too, but rather that here, the sun sinks toward the horizon until the ocean swallows it whole. Surfers bob beyond the breaks and skateboards clatter on the bike path behind you. People heading home from late afternoon grocery store runs walk along the seam where asphalt breaks into sand. The air is sunscreen-smudged and nicotine-stained.

It still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth; you spent years wanting to leave it all behind, insisting that you didn’t miss it, and yet sitting here now, watching the sky fade from golden orange to lavender, you can’t help but suppose that, even after everything, this was the closest thing you’d ever know to home.

Perhaps you’ve gotten more sentimental with age. Perhaps your heart has grown softer with distance. Perhaps nostalgia preys on everyone, no matter strong or weak.

Or, perhaps, you’re really fucking sad, and some small, childish part of you wants the waves to cradle you until you felt okay again.

You’ve been sitting here for a while. Long enough for the late afternoon to slip into evening, for the sand beneath your feet to cool. The breeze coming off the water has sharpened, and you’ve drawn your knees up to your chest in response.

The ocean stretches on endlessly in front of you. The waves roll in, then retreat. Roll in, retreat. Roll in, retreat. 

After your confrontation with Heeseung, you’d gone home and cried.

Everything felt like it was unraveling—a spool of thread skittering across tile that your clumsy fingers couldn’t stop—because the prospect of having Lee Heeseung back in your life might’ve been the first time you’d hoped for something this deeply since leaving for Boston. Funnily enough, in your fit of anger and hurt and sheer melodrama, you had had the urge to crack open your laptop and start looking for job openings in Boston, as if you’d learned nothing at all.

You wonder if you’ll ever stop running.

You scrub a hand over your face.

“Hm.”

A voice drifts over the sound of the surf.

“So you are here.”

You still. 

When you dare to glance over your shoulder, you see Heeseung walking towards you, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. A motorcycle—his, you recognize—is parked farther back on the bike path.

“How did you find me?” you ask curtly.

“I stopped by your house first. Your mom said you went to the beach,” he answers. “Bit of a long walk, you know.”

“I like walking.”

His voice is soft. “I know.” A pause. “Can I sit?”

When you don’t respond, you hear the crunch of sand. A soft exhale comes from him as he lowers himself to the ground, a small bit away from you. Heeseung stares ahead, watching the waves crash against the shore and the gulls peck at the sea moss. 

Silence sits heavy between the two of you, brewing.

“My dad kicked me out.”

Your head whips to face him, so fast you nearly pull your neck. You think you hear him wrong. “What?”

Heeseung keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon. “You asked me why I live with Jake’s family now. It’s because my dad kicked me out of the house.”

“He’d been threatening it for years,” he murmurs, idly picking up a handful of sand. Letting it spill through the gaps of his fingers. “My mom was a doctor, so he wanted… or, I guess, needed me to be one too. So, when I told him I wasn’t gonna do it, he gave me a ton of shit for it. It got really bad around when we were applying to college.”

He gently clears his throat. “That’s why— that’s why I was like that, back then.”

Oh. 

You were right about it having something to do with his father—but you never would’ve fathomed it was that bad. 

“I think it was during third year of college that he realized I really wasn’t gonna switch my degree, so he followed through. Kicked me out and stopped helping me pay for college. Said if I wanted to waste my life making music, I could do it somewhere else.” His lips quirk up into a rueful half-smile. “If that answers your question.”

Heeseung nearly laughs when he finally glances over at you. You look alarmed, all wide-eyed. He’d forgotten how endearing it was. He can also tell you’re biting something back, eyes narrowing slightly before understanding dawns on him. 

“Oh.” His gaze drops back to the water. “I’m on meds because after he kicked me out, I really, really wanted to die.”

The words roll off his tongue with a horrifying simplicity, as if he was talking about something as dull and inconsequential as yesterday’s weather. Your pulse pounds loudly in your ears and a horrible, gutwrenching ache curls in the centre of your ribs.

Beside you, Heeseung merely runs a hand through his hair. “I guess it was kind of obvious because Jake kept on nagging me to get help.” His nose wrinkles at the memory. “It was weird as fuck to be coddled by him, but I’m grateful.”

“Are—” Your breath catches. “Do you still…”

“I’m better now,” he says immediately. “Not, like, great or anything… but better. I really owe it to him. And his parents—they’re letting me live with them until I have enough saved up to… I dunno… move in with Jake and another guy we met in college. They have a place downtown with a spare bedroom. Or maybe get my own place?”

You nod solemnly. “...Heeseung, I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t be. It was never your fault.” He stops you before you can say anything else. “I should’ve— I should’ve trusted you and told you this stuff earlier. I’ve been a dick. You had every right to be upset, both back then and the other day. I’m sorry.”

God, your nose burns. Your nose burns and your throat feels like it’s closing up and even while you still resent how he had pushed you away, you feel so, so bad for him. 

“I could’ve been there for you,” you say thickly.

“I know, star girl.”

“I thought you let me leave because you didn’t want me anymore.”

Something in Heeseung’s expression cracks. “No,” he whispers. “Never.”

He gently brushes the hair out of your face, smoothing his hand over your head. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I was upset with myself about being a shit boyfriend and I thought you wouldn’t… want to deal with me. I didn’t hold on because I couldn’t imagine that you would’ve wanted me to. I thought you’d be happier if you left.”

You bark out a laugh. “God, you’re so stupid.”

“So I’ve been told.” A sad smile. “Forgive me.”

You only sniffle. Your gaze is stubbornly trained on the sand between your knees while you will the sting in your eyes to fade. When you finally look up again, chin perched on your forearm, he’s still looking at you. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumble.

“Like what?”

“Like that!”

“That’s just my face.”

You scoff and reach over to push at his cheek. Heeseung easily catches your wrist, turning your hand over and pressing a small kiss to the centre of your palm. Your heart jolts, breath stuttering.

“Tell me why you came back,” he mumbles softly.

“What?”

His grip loosens, shifting from your wrist to threading through your hand, which you don’t pull away from. “You never told me why you came back.”

“I did. I told you that being there wasn’t for me.”

“You could poll every person you’ve ever met and they could all tell you how much you fucking hated Orange County.”

“You think you’re so funny.”

“Mhm.”

“...It’s really lame.”

“So what?”

You’re quiet for a while. “I don’t know, it just— nothing worked out, once I got there. I kept waiting for it to get better, but it never did. I was just miserable all the time.” Humiliation wraps around you and tints your cheeks red. You let out a weary sigh. “I just… I spent years thinking that this—” you gesture vaguely at the coastline. “—was the problem.”

“I think I had a lot of false hope,” you murmur. “That, you know, nobody here understood me or cared about what I cared about, and if I could just get out of here, everything would finally click. I would feel like I belonged.”

Heeseung nods thoughtfully. “Belonging is a useless, made-up metric,” he says eventually.

“Huh?”

“Think about it. No one ‘belongs’ anywhere.”

You’re unconvinced. “That just feels objectively wrong.” 

 “Does it?” A lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “People just find places they want to stay.”

“That’s your philosophy?”

“Mm. I’m still workshopping it.”

A laugh escapes you, despite yourself. “I think,” you say after a moment, pursing your lips. “...I think I just have to unlearn my pride.”

“Mm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means ‘yeah, maybe a bit.’”

You try to shove at his shoulder, a curse on the tip of your tongue, only to be caught by the wrist again. Heeseung lies back against the sand, tugging you down with him—to which you let out a very startled yelp—until you land square on top of him. Your hands shoot out, planting on either side of his head to keep yourself stable, but all it does it bring your face closer to his.

Sand catches on the ends of your hair, and his hands naturally find your hips. You can feel the laugh rumbling through his chest in your own. 

“Asshole,” you mutter weakly.

Smile softening, Heeseung’s gaze drifts down to your lips before back up to your eyes. “I love you.”

The air drains from your lungs in one big whoosh. Yours arms tremble as you hold yourself above him, threatening to buckle. “You— Heeseung…”

“I do,” he says, certain. “If you can just ignore everything I said the other day about not wanting to try again, I swear, I swear I won’t let you go this time.”

And oh, how fear swirls in your gut at his words, because it fills you with hope. Painful, treacherous hope that asks you to imagine a future. To dream of something again and reach for it, even after being beaten down, time after time. To risk being disappointed again. You wish you could know how this ends before you take the leap—but that’s never been the bargain that hope offers.

You dare to hope. 

Your lips press to his. Something tingly and warm sprawls throughout your body that you can feel in the shells of your ears and the tips of your fingers and the nooks of your knees. Heeseung exhales softly into the kiss, lips curving into a smile against yours. You feel his hand glide up your back and slip into your hair. The ocean sighs behind you, pleased.

When you part, he looks up at you through half-lidded eyes. “Is that a yes?”

You snort. “As if. I’m not that easy.”

“You just kissed me,” he says, grin splintering his face.

“Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mhm. Whatever you say, star girl.”

It’s a rare summer day where rain had just passed through. Nothing more than a drizzle in the early afternoon, but enough to leave dewdrops clinging to the leaves and fill the air with the scent of wet earth and petrichor. 

The flowy hem of your canary yellow dress swishes against your calves as you make your way down the street of your neighbourhood. You step into one of the puddles dotting the road, watching the water ripple around your sandal.

You glance back over your shoulder. Heeseung is trailing a distance behind you, a small bouquet of white carnations dangling from one hand. He’d picked it up from the florist’s before your date.

“Hurry up,” you call out with feigned annoyance, hands finding purchase on your hips. 

He stops walking, staring at you across the rain-darkened road. “You’re walking too fast.”

“You’re slow.”

“I’m carrying flowers.”

“As if they weigh anything!”

Heeseung’s head tips back in laughter. The sound follows you down the length of the street. 

You smile, letting it settle somewhere deep inside your chest.

Perhaps you had missed California.

Part 1: The Ornamental Wife

It was 4:48 AM when you opened your eyes.

You always woke before the clock.

In the pre-dawn darkness of the master suite, the only sound was the deep, even breathing of your husband. You lay perfectly still, your head turned on the silk pillowcase, and allowed yourself this. This was the only time you had.

This was the only time he wasn't Lee Heeseung, the heir. He was just Heeseung.

His face, relaxed in sleep, was younger. The severe, controlled lines of his jaw were soft. His lashes were dark against his skin. In these stolen, silent minutes, you could look at him. You could let the quiet, agonizing yearning rise up in your chest, the desperate wish that the man sleeping beside you was the one who would wake up.

But you knew, with the certainty of a well-rehearsed script, that he would not.

You watched the digital clock on his nightstand: 4:58... 4:59...

You closed your eyes.

You slowed your breathing.

You arranged your limbs into a perfect imitation of sleep.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed five times.

Its deep, heavy resonance echoed through the marble corridors, a sound that was not so much a chime as a signal. The curtain rising.

As if a switch had been thrown, Heeseung’s breathing hitched, and he was awake. Not with a groan or a stretch, but with the silent, immediate efficiency of a man who commanded his body as he commanded his business.

The mattress dipped. You felt the whisper of the Egyptian cotton sheets as he extracted himself, his movements deliberately gentle.

He thought you were sleeping.

You kept your breathing steady, a perfect, painful metronome. One year of this. Three hundred and sixty-five mornings of pretending. Through barely-parted lids, you watched his silhouette move through the darkness. His routine was a piece of choreography, immutable. 5 AM. Feet on the floor.

He disappeared into the expansive en-suite bathroom. The door closed with a heavy, sound-dampened click. The shower began to run, a distant hiss of water filling the silence.

Only then did you abandon the charade.

You rolled onto your back, the ceiling a high, white expanse above you. You felt the exhaustion of a performance just begun. This house. This life. Everything was immaculate, luxurious, and walled in ice.

When he emerged twenty minutes later, a cloud of steam curling around his waist, you were "waking up." You sat up, pushing your hair from your face as if in a daze, your silk robe already clutched in your hand. The set was ready. Your side of the bed was already perfectly straight, the pillows arranged.

He nodded in acknowledgment, already toweling his hair with brisk, efficient motions. A small, polite smile lifted the corner of his mouth. It never, ever reached his eyes.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was pleasant. Neutral. Always neutral. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No, I was already awake," you lied. The line was automatic, worn smooth by repetition. You offered him a matching, polite smile. "Will you be joining me for breakfast on the terrace today?"

You asked every morning. The chef prepared an elaborate spread for two every morning. You ate it alone every morning.

He paused, glancing at the Patek Philippe on his dresser. The one you’d given him for your six-month anniversary. You’d called it a celebration. He’d called it a "kind gesture" and noted its precise movement.

"I have an early meeting. I’ll grab something at the office."

"Of course." You nodded, the perfect, understanding wife. You’d long since stopped taking it personally. It wasn’t personal. Nothing in this house was. It was simply another aspect of the arrangement.

"Madame," a soft voice came from the doorway. Your personal maid, punctual as the clock. She never knocked, but simply appeared, part of the seamless machinery of the household. "The blue gown has been pressed for tonight’s charity auction, and Mrs. Lee called to confirm your appointment at the salon at two."

"Thank you, Minah. Please tell the chef I’ll be down shortly."

Heeseung, now buttoning his shirt, glanced over. "The blue gown is a good choice. It matches the sapphires."

For a single, agonizing moment, the neutrality in his eyes was replaced by a flicker of genuine warmth. It was so brief that it hurt more than his indifference. It was a glimpse of the man you’d been waiting for, the one who’d just been sleeping beside you. Then it was gone, hidden behind the buttoned-up facade.

He dressed efficiently, the navy suit you’d suggested, the perfect Windsor knot. You busied yourself at the vanity, applying a light moisturizer, giving him space, maintaining the illusion of comfortable, domestic harmony.

"I’ll send the car for you at six," he said, his voice reflecting off the mirror. "The auction starts at seven, but your mother-in-law suggested we arrive early to greet the host committee."

"I’ll be ready," you assured him, meeting his gaze in the reflection. "The blue complements the sapphires your family gifted me last Christmas. Perfect for the society photographers."

He nodded, approving. "Perfect. The Lees must maintain appearances."

The phrase hung in the air between you, the thesis statement of your entire marriage. This was the wall. This was what bound you. Not love or passion, but the cold, heavy weight of appearances.

Before leaving, he stopped at the bedroom door. He hesitated. "The new arrangement in the grand foyer—the one with the peonies and orchids. My mother asked for the name of your florist."

A tiny, sharp pain. You’d arranged those flowers yourself at dawn yesterday, hoping the color might... do something. Anything.

"Of course," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "I’d be happy to share their contact information."

He looked at you for a second longer, as if he might break the script, as if he might say something real.

He didn't.

He just nodded, a final, polite dismissal. And left.

Moments later, you heard the soft, powerful purr of his car starting in the circular driveway below, then fading into the distance.

The suite fell silent. You were alone on the perfectly lit, perfectly arranged set. The grandfather clock ticked in the hallway, its measured, metallic beat the only applause for a performance flawlessly begun.

You stood motionless until the sound of his car, a low, powerful purr, had completely faded into the silence of the morning.

The polite, practiced smile you had held in place faltered, then dissolved. Your shoulders, held straight in perfect posture, slumped just slightly. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, a small, quiet sigh that was the only sound in the cavernous room.

The silence of the suite rushed in to fill the space he had occupied. It felt enormous, a gilded, hollow space that echoed with the absence of a single, genuine word. This was the true atmosphere of the house, the one that existed beneath the flawless choreography of your lives.

You walked, your silk robe whispering against the floor, to his side of the bed. The indentation from his head was already gone from the high-quality pillow. You pressed your palm flat against the sheets where he had lain.

They were already cool.

A small, sharp ache—so familiar you barely registered it as pain anymore—tightened in your chest. You thought of the man you’d watched before the clock chimed, the one with the soft jaw and the dark, peaceful lashes. Then you thought of the man who had just left, the one who checked his watch and spoke of appearances. They lived in the same body, but you only ever had access to the latter.

Your gaze drifted to the mirror where he had adjusted his tie. You saw your own reflection: composed, elegant, the perfect wife. A masterpiece of control.

You thought of the flowers. The peonies and orchids. You had arranged them yourself at dawn yesterday, frustrated with the florist's sterile, uninspired designs. You had tried to bring a bit of life, of feeling, into the cold marble foyer.

He hadn't seen you in the arrangement. He had seen his mother's request. He saw a task completed, a function fulfilled. He saw the name of a florist, not the hands of his wife.

The realization settled over you, not with a crash, but with the quiet, resigned weight of a feather falling on snow. You were the most exquisite, most valuable piece of furniture in the house. And you were just as invisible.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you pulled the mask back into place. The day had its own script, and you were the lead actress.

You walked into your own dressing room, a space of soft creams and muted golds, and pressed the small, discreet button for your maid. Minah entered as silently as she had left.

"Madame, I will prepare your bath."

"Thank you, Minah. Lay out the grey cashmere set for breakfast, and then the salon appointment outfit."

"Yes, Madame."

As you soaked in the scalding water of the tub, you closed your eyes and let the meticulous schedule for the day assemble in your mind. 10:00 AM: Call with the caterer for the Ambassador's dinner. 11:30 AM: Finalize the seating chart for the same. 2:00 PM: Salon. 4:00 PM: Review the auction items. 6:00 PM: Car. 7:00 PM: Arrive, smile, and maintain appearances.

Your schedule was a fortress of obligations, each one a brick in the wall that separated your "life" from your "self."

An hour later, you descended the grand staircase. You were no longer the woman who watched her husband sleep. You were Mrs. Lee. Your hair was flawlessly styled, your makeup subtle and perfect, your cashmere ensemble exuding an aura of effortless, expensive grace.

As you passed the foyer, you paused at the flower arrangement. You adjusted a single orchid, tilting its head a fraction of an inch. Perfect.

In the breakfast terrace, the staff straightened as you entered. The table was, as always, a perfect tableau for two. A silver coffeepot steamed beside two empty cups. A basket of fresh pastries sat untouched. A beautiful spread of fruits and charcuterie waited, pristine, under silver covers.

The staff knew he never stayed. You knew he never stayed. But the performance demanded the setting. The entire household was part of this perfect, silent sitcom.

"Good morning, Madame," the butler greeted you.

"Good morning, Robert. The coffee smells wonderful." You took your seat at the head of the table. He poured your coffee. Another servant silently removed Heeseung's pristine place setting.

You sat alone, surrounded by a feast for two. You picked up your tablet, the screen glowing to life with your day's agenda. You took a small sip of coffee and looked out at the garden. It was beautiful. Not a leaf was out of place, not a flower allowed to wilt. A perfect, controlled, passionless beauty.

You felt a kinship with it.

You took a small bite of a croissant you didn't want, your mind already three steps ahead, planning, organizing, and ensuring that the Lee family's appearances were, as always, flawlessly maintained.

The croissant was dry in your mouth, each bite an act of pure discipline. You swallowed, taking another sip of the cooling coffee. Robert, the butler, moved with silent efficiency, clearing the pastries you had merely rearranged on your plate.

The house was running.

You were the engine, hidden beneath the polished hood. On your tablet, you approved the week's menus, cross-referenced the guest list for the Ambassador's dinner with your mother-in-law's last-minute additions, and dictated a reply to the foundation's treasurer. You were a CEO of domestic perfection.

Your phone buzzed beside your plate. The caller ID read 'Mrs. Lee'.

You picked up, your voice immediately shifting—becoming warmer, more deferential. "Good morning, Mother. I was just about to call you."

"Y/N, dear," her voice was crisp, like starched linen. "I trust the seating chart for the Ambassador's dinner is finalized? I heard the French attaché is... sensitive... about his placement."

"Already handled, Mother," you replied smoothly, your eyes scanning the digital chart on your tablet. "I've placed him next to Mrs. Bae. They'll be too busy discussing her new Monet acquisition to notice anything else. And I've put you and Father across from the Ambassador, of course."

There was a brief, satisfied pause. "Excellent. You have a good head for these things, Y/N. Now, about tonight's auction. It's vital we secure the new children's wing. Heeseung will be bidding, naturally, but your role is to charm. Mingle. Remind everyone of the Lee family's commitment."

"Of course," you said. "I'll be wearing the blue sapphires. They always seem to invite conversation."

"Perfect. That is exactly what they are for." The call ended with a curt click.

That is exactly what they are for. Not for beauty. Not as a gift of affection. But as a tool. A conversation starter to facilitate a transaction. Just like you.

The afternoon found you in the hushed, cream-colored interior of the city's most exclusive salon. The air smelled of expensive chemicals and orchids. This, too, was part of the performance. Mrs. Lee must be seen, immaculate, before a major event.

A young woman meticulously filed your nails while another styled your hair into the elegant, understated chignon that had become your signature. You sat impassively, a beautiful statue being polished for display.

But beneath the dryer, under the guise of reading a fashion magazine, you were on your personal tablet—the one Heeseung didn't know about. It was locked to a secure server connected to the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. You were reading a new treatise on the restoration of a lost Gaddi panel, your mind alight, tracking the academic argument with a sharp, hungry intelligence.

This was your secret. Your 4:48 AM. The small, fiercely guarded part of you that was not Mrs. Lee. The woman who had curated exhibits, who spoke three languages, who missed the smell of dust in old libraries.

A notification popped up on your personal phone, carefully hidden. It was an alert from a high-society gossip blog you followed—not for pleasure, but for information.

A new post. 'Lee Group's Next Generation Shines at Last Night's Tech Summit Dinner.'

You clicked it, your pulse giving a single, quiet thud.

The photo was a candid group shot. Men in dark, tailored suits. Women in sLeeling cocktail dresses. And there, in the background, off to the side, was Heeseung. He was holding a glass, his expression unreadable, his posture as perfect as ever.

But your eyes didn't stay on him. They were drawn, as if by a magnet, to the center of the photo.

To her.

Minju.

She was laughing, her head thrown back, a champagne flute held aloft. She was vibrant, effortless, and so incredibly alive. She was everything you weren't—not controlled, not contained, not polished to a cold, hard shine. She was the woman he had loved in college. The one his parents had deemed "unsuitable." The one he had supposedly given up to marry you.

You stared at the photo. It wasn't what you saw that hurt. It was what you knew.

Heeseung wasn't looking at the camera. He wasn't looking at the important minister he was standing beside.

His gaze was angled, just slightly, across the room.

He was looking at her.

"Oh, your hands are so steady, Madame," the manicurist murmured, applying the first coat of a pale, neutral lacquer. "Most of my clients tremble."

You pulled your gaze from the screen, your lips forming a perfect, gentle smile. "I'm very relaxed, thank you."

You locked the phone. The image was burned into your mind. This was the ghost that lived in your house. This was the reason for the 5 AM departures, the polite neutrality, the empty chair at breakfast. He wasn't just avoiding you; he was still, in his own quiet, walled-off way, yearning for her.

His coldness wasn't an absence of feeling. It was the presence of a feeling for someone else.

The salon-owner himself came to inspect your hair. "Magnifique, Madame Lee. You are the picture of elegance."

You looked at your reflection in the large, gilt-edged mirror. Your hair was perfect. Your skin was glowing. Your nails were flawless. You were a perfect copia da studio. A brilliant, technical, and soulless copy.

"Thank you, Jean-Pierre," you said, your voice serene. "It's exactly what I wanted."

The drive back to the estate was silent. The car, a fortress of black leather and tinted glass, moved silently through the city. You didn't look at your art treatise. You just watched the world slide by, your hands folded perfectly in your lap.

You had a role to play tonight. You had to stand beside your husband, wearing his family's jewels, and smile. You had to charm and mingle, securing his family's legacy. You had to be the perfect, dutiful wife, all while knowing that the man standing beside you was still, in his heart, looking at someone else.

the week before had been pretty standard for jake, which meant a lot of nothing. monday night he was at heeseung’s place, half watching a game and half playing fifa with sunghoon until three in the morning. tuesday was drinks with sunoo and niki at that bar near campus. wednesday he skipped his morning lecture, slept until noon, and then spent the rest of the day hanging around jungwon’s dorm because jay had ordered pizza and jake didn’t feel like cooking. thursday was another party (he couldn’t even remember whose) and friday he woke up with a headache and a random girl’s hoodie on his couch.

it was the kind of week he’d been having for most of his college life, just bouncing between his friends’ places and his own small one-bedroom apartment. the lease was almost up, and he’d already decided he wanted to move. not because he hated it, it was fine, but the walls were thin, the neighbors complained too much, and he wanted more space. he’d been looking for a bigger place, just for himself, no roommates, no shared fridge, no awkward small talk.

the plan was simple: find a one-bedroom close to campus, maybe a little more expensive, but worth it for the peace. but then the housing office screwed something up. the unit he’d signed for got pulled last minute because of some “maintenance issue,” and by the time they told him, everything else on his list was already taken. they offered him a spot in a two-bedroom to “hold him over until something opens up,” and he took it, assuming they’d find some random guy to fill the other room eventually.

they didn’t. instead, they gave the second key to you.

“a girl?” heeseung asked, glancing over like he wanted to make sure he heard it right.

“yep,” jake said, “and before you ask, no, i don’t know anything about her. could’ve been some random dude from campus, but no, they put me with a girl.”

“it’s not the end of the world, you know.”

“yeah, except it kind of is,” jake said. “what if she’s, like, one of those people who tells you to keep it down because she’s got an 8am? i don’t need that kind of energy in my space. my place is supposed to be… my place.”

“your mojo dojo casa house?” jake shot him a look while heeseung giggled. “look, maybe it’s good for you,” he continued. “maybe you’ll stop bringing home random girls every other night.”

jake smirked. “or maybe i’ll just have to get better at sneaking them in.”

heeseung shook his head. “do you even know her name?”

“uh… i think it’s y/n? never seen her around campus. at least, not that i remember.”

“you could ask jungwon,” heeseung said. “he knows everyone.”

“yeah,” jake muttered, already half-distracted. “guess i’ll text him later. just… hope she’s not an asshole.”

heeseung gave him a look. “pretty sure she’s hoping the same thing about you. and she is probably right.”

so the rest of that week, jake was milking every last second of living alone. he left dishes in the sink without guilt, blasted music at 2 a.m. and walked around in just a towel after showers. it was good, chaotic and messy, but his kind of good. in a few days, there’d be another person in his space, and even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he wasn’t sure how much of himself he’d have to hide.

by wednesday, he had a lecture he couldn’t skip. attendance was part of the grade, and he’d already missed two. the class was one of those electives that pretended to be chill but always devolved into debates that dragged on way too long. he was used to zoning out, tossing in a comment or two just to keep his participation points. that day, though, the professor brought up some case study about media ethics, and jake, half out of boredom, half for fun, threw in a take that was just controversial enough to get people talking. what he didn’t expect was someone immediately firing back.

“that’s a terrible point,” a voice cut through from somewhere to his left, sharp enough to pull his attention off the professor.

jake turned his head, eyebrows lifting. you were a few rows over, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed like you’d been waiting for him to slip up just so you could pounce. you didn’t look nervous, or even slightly unsure, more like you were daring him to keep going.

“no, it’s not,” jake said easily, because there was no way he was letting some random girl dismantle him in front of the whole class.

“it is,” you said, tone flat, almost bored. “you’re just defending it because you think sounding confident is the same thing as being right.”

he scoffed, leaning forward in his seat. “and you’re disagreeing because you think being loud makes you smarter.”

for half a second, your mouth twitched, like you were fighting the urge to smile, but instead you sat up straighter, eyes locking on him as you launched into a rapid fire breakdown of why his take didn’t hold up. it wasn’t just a counterpoint; it was methodical, and you didn’t give him a second to slip in until you were done. he waited for the last word to leave your mouth before firing back, picking apart your logic, throwing in examples just to push your buttons. you didn’t flinch. if anything, you seemed more energized by the challenge, cutting him off mid-sentence, shaking your head with this smug little tilt that made his jaw tighten. within minutes, the rest of the class wasn’t even pretending to follow along with the lecture — they were watching you and him volley arguments. the professor didn’t step in right away, probably curious to see who would outlast the other. when he finally did, there was the faintest smile on his face. “alright, i think we’ll stop here. thanks to jake and y/n, for the spirited contribution today.”

the name landed like a coin dropping in his head. y/n. so this was you. his new roommate. he sat back in his chair, eyes still on you as you looked away like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t just gone toe-to-toe with him for fifteen straight minutes. for a moment, jake just sat there, letting it sink in. of all the people they could’ve stuck him with, it had to be you: sharp-tongued, unshakable, clearly not the type to let anything slide. he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or impressed. maybe both. he’d expected his new roommate to be some background character in his life — someone who paid their half of the rent and stayed out of his way. instead, he’d gotten someone who looked him dead in the eye and called him out without hesitation. and now he couldn’t stop wondering if you’d be like that all the time, or if it was just a class thing.

later that day, he found jungwon in the campus café, earbuds in. “yo,” jake said, walking up. “you know a girl named y/n?”

jungwon pulled out one earbud, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to place the name. “yeah, i know her. why?”

“she’s my new roommate,” jake said. “met her today in class. well— ‘met’ is generous. more like she tried to shame me in front of thirty people.”

jungwon’s mouth curled into a small smile. “yeah, that sounds like her.”

“great,” jake muttered. “anything else i should know? is she, like… intense all the time?”

jungwon shrugged. “depends. she’s smart, doesn’t take crap from anyone, so, if you’re expecting her to just let you do your thing without comment, good luck.”

jake sat on the chair beside him, letting that sink in. “awesome. love that for me.”

jungwon smirked. “maybe you will.”

jake didn’t know what jungwon meant by that, but he was annoyed anyway. he was already holding a grudge against you, and not just because you’d tried to embarrass him in class. it was the fact that you were about to invade his space. his space. his mojo dojo casa house. the one thing he’d been looking forward to keeping entirely his own. and he was almost sure you didn’t even know he was your roommate yet. maybe they’d just hand you a key and let you figure it out when you showed up at the door. honestly, part of him wanted to see your face when you realized you were going to be living with the guy you’d gone toe-to-toe with for fifteen minutes straight in class.

except he didn’t get to see it. instead, later that night, his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number:

[you]: hey! this is y/n. i got your number from the housing office

[you]: i’m gonna be your new roommate

he stared at the screen for a second, frowning. the message was friendly, almost too friendly. not at all what he’d expected from someone who’d been ready to verbally fight him to death earlier that day. so he typed back:

[jake]: so i’m guessing you didn’t realize i’m the same jake from that elective class

your reply came fast:

[you]: cool

[you]: so saturday work for you to move in?

that was it. no sarcasm, no smug comment, no acknowledgment beyond the bare minimum. like you couldn’t care less. so jake typed back. 

[jake]: yeah

[you]: i was thinking around 8 a.m.

jake blinked.

[jake]: 8 am? seriously?

[you]: yeah that’s usually when people start moving otherwise it gets late and we won’t finish in time

he stared at your last message, already annoyed at how matter-of-fact it was. eight in the morning. on a saturday. clearly, you were going to be a problem. the way you just stated it, like there was no room for discussion, like you knew exactly what you were doing, it rubbed him the wrong way. he could already tell you thought you were smart and sharp, the type who always got the last word. still, he agreed to the time. whatever. it was just one early morning. he’d deal with it. except, on friday night, he found himself in a situation where dealing with it became unlikely.

niki texted first, asking if he wanted to go to a frat party at yeonjun’s. normally, jake could’ve said no, but if niki was going, sunghoon was going too. and if sunghoon was going, sunoo would end up there. if sunoo was going, jungwon would tag along. and if jungwon was going, jay wouldn’t miss it. and once jay was in, heeseung was coming too, which meant heeseung was bringing weed. and if heeseung was bringing weed, jake had no choice. so, yeah, he was going.

the night was exactly what he expected, and every time he thought about leaving, someone shoved another drink in his hand, or heeseung started laughing at something and somehow convinced him to stay another hour. by the time he got home, it was late. way too late for someone who’d promised to be functional by eight a.m. still, he felt pretty good about himself. he’d packed up most of his apartment earlier that week, stacked boxes into his car, even cleaned the kitchen. all that was left was to wake up on time, meet you, and help move. except he didn’t wake up on time. in fact, he didn’t wake up anywhere near eight.

he woke up at— well, “woke up” is generous. it was noon. the sun’s already rude through the blinds and his phone battery’s dying because he forgot to charge it. but when he grabbed his phone, the first thing he saw was the time, and then immediate, gut-level panic set in. he shot out of bed, tripping over the pile of clothes from last night, and threw on whatever was closest: sweats, shirt inside out, mismatched socks. somewhere between shoving his wallet into his pocket and finding his keys, he finally noticed the one missed call from you. and one single text.

[you]: where are you?

with no follow up, no all caps rage, no triple question marks. he had you pegged as the type to spam twenty messages and call until his phone caught fire, so the sheer chill of it threw him off. so he typed back, “sorry, woke up late” and all you did was leave it on read. weird. still, he loaded himself into his car, already stuffed with boxes, trash bags of clothes and drove to the new apartment.

when he got there, the front door was locked. which, okay, fair. except… he didn’t have a key yet. and judging by the silence and total lack of life inside, you weren’t home. he started texting, but nothing. sent a couple more, still nothing. called, rang out. now he was sitting in the driver’s seat, engine off, staring at his steering wheel like it was gonna give him the answers. that was it, he was homeless now. he was alone, in a parking lot, surrounded by his own boxed-up belongings, slowly spiraling because you were ghosting him before you’d even officially met.

after four hours of torture, of sending countless messages to different friends asking if they had a spare couch for him to crash on, you finally pulled into the parking lot. before you could even close the car’s door behind you, he was already out of his own car, walking fast toward you with this mix of relief and frustration written all over his face. “where the hell were you?” he asked, his voice somewhere between annoyed and breathless.

you just glanced at him, locking your car, throwing your bag over your shoulder, and said, “out.” no explanation, no detail, just a flat answer that somehow irritated him even more.

“out?” he repeated, following as you started toward the building. “i’ve been sitting here for hours. i thought you were gonna be here when i got here.” 

you shrugged, not even slowing your pace, and said, “i finished my move this morning, then i went to do my stuff. what do you want me to do, sit around all day waiting for you?”

he blinked, because as much as that annoyed him, he couldn’t exactly argue with the logic. “you could’ve at least answered your phone,” he tried again, his tone still sharp but quieter now. “you could’ve told me where you were.” you glanced at him like you couldn’t believe he was making this a big deal. 

“jake, you woke up late. that’s not my problem. i texted you once, called you once, you didn’t answer, so i went on with my day.” 

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, feeling this weird mix of embarrassment and irritation because you were right, he knew you were right, you didn’t owe him a play-by-play of your day, but still, he’d been stuck in the car for hours thinking you’d ghosted him or forgotten he was moving in. so you handed him the key without ceremony, and then you walked him through the apartment, pointing out the light switches and the laundry schedule for the building. it was clear you’d already settled in enough to claim your space, and when he asked about the rooms, you didn’t even try to sugarcoat it — because he hadn’t shown up on time, you’d gone ahead and picked yours, and obviously you’d taken the one with the ensuite. makes sense, he’d thought, even though in his head he was trying to figure out if there was a polite way to argue for it without sounding petty. there wasn’t. 

so he just nodded while you explained which cabinet in the hallway was his and which shelves in the fridge he could use, and he kept thinking about how he’d imagined this moment going differently, maybe a little more friendly, or a little less efficient. by the time you were done showing him around, he was still standing there with his bag in hand, realizing you’d already turned back to whatever you were doing before he got here, like the whole moving-in thing was just one more item on your to do list.

and it was weird, the first day. jake was still figuring out where to put his stuff, boxes half open in the living room, one duffel bag sitting on the couch. you were around, but not really. sometimes he’d hear you moving in the kitchen, sometimes a door closing. you kept yourself busy with other things, like tidying up shelves, rearranging stuff in the bathroom, but never really lingering around him. he’d try to make some small comment about anything or how heavy the box was, but you’d just hum or nod without looking up. not rude, just minimal.

around dinner time, he was sitting on the floor, pulling cables out of a box, when you passed by. he decided to try again. “so, uh... is it okay to smoke weed in here?”

you stopped mid-step. “what kind of weed?”

he blinked like he wasn’t sure if that was a trick question. “what kind?”

“yeah. what do you smoke?”

“uh, just some pressed weed i get from a friend.” the friend in question was heeseung.

you looked at him like he’d just admitted he eats microwave fish every day. “no. get hash or something that doesn’t stink up the whole place.”

he stared at you, half surprised you knew the difference, half offended you thought he could casually drop money on that. “you think i’ve got hash money?”

you didn’t bother answering. just kept walking down the hall like the conversation was over. he let it go for a while, partly because he was too tired to argue, partly because you clearly weren’t the type to back down on random rules like this. so later, after he’d unpacked most of his stuff and was starting to feel like maybe the apartment wasn’t a total maze, he found you in the kitchen. you were leaning against the counter, scrolling on your phone, looking way too relaxed for someone who’d just finished telling him his entire stash was trash. “so what if i wanna smoke?” he asked, like the thought had been simmering in the back of his head since you’d walked away.

you sighed. “fine.” you got your bag, pulled out a small pink hello kitty case, unzipped it, and handed him a vape pen. “here. so you don’t make the place smell like cheap weed.”

he took it carefully, holding it between his fingers like it might break. “you’re just giving me this?”

“yeah. consider it a gift. welcome to the apartment.” you didn’t wait for a reaction. you just turned and went straight to your room, shutting the door behind you. he stayed there for a while, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the pen in his hand, staring at it. he couldn’t tell if you were insanely generous, weirdly controlling, or both. all he knew was that he suddenly had a vape pen and absolutely no idea who the hell his new roommate actually was.

and as the first week passed, jake still had no idea who the hell you were. and it passed with a lot of unpacking, awkward silences, and jake slowly realizing that living with you was going to be a whole different kind of challenge. he spent most of his mornings moving boxes, setting up shelves, and trying to figure out which things actually belonged in the apartment and which were just random trash he’d been holding onto too long. you kept mostly to yourself, your own rhythm never really syncing with his. sometimes he’d hear the shower running, the clink of dishes, the sound of you tidying up, but you didn’t really say much. he tried to make conversation here and there, asking if you knew where the extra hangers were, joking about how one of the light bulbs kept flickering. but you’d just hum, nod, or give a short answer before disappearing back into your room. it frustrated him more than he expected, and yet he couldn’t deny that there was something compelling about how unbothered and self-contained you were.

by the end of the week, he’d made more progress with his stuff than he thought he would, but he was still adjusting to the fact that you were this constant, quiet presence that refused to be read. he didn’t know if it was intimidating or fascinating, or maybe both. whatever it was, it made him more aware of how he moved, how he spoke, and how quickly he could lose himself in trying to get your attention, even when you weren’t giving him much to work with. he couldn’t quite place it, but there was a pull there, subtle, like he was slowly cataloguing all the little details about you without meaning to.

“didn’t you say you didn’t want a roommate who’d constantly be in your business?” heeseung caught up with him on campus later that week, walking a few steps ahead before turning with a teasing grin.

jake shot him a look, half annoyed, half exasperated. “yeah, but dude, she’s way too quiet. i can’t tell if she’s judging me or just ignoring me.”

heeseung shook his head, smiling. “so you wanted someone quiet and now you’re mad because she actually is?”

jake ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly, knowing full well how ridiculous he sounded. he had spent days complaining about the idea of a roommate, imagining someone annoying, loud, constantly in his space, and now here he was, griping about someone who literally did what he asked: kept to herself, stayed out of his way, didn’t force conversation or attention. and yet, it frustrated him more than he expected. 

there was this weird tension in his chest, part irritation, part curiosity, part… something else he couldn’t quite name. he hated admitting it, but he found himself noticing the smallest things about you, and it was confusing, because on one hand he wanted the space, the quiet, the low-maintenance roommate, and on the other hand, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you did not give a fuck. he was aware he was contradicting himself, and that made him feel unsettled. part of him wanted to shake himself out of it, to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to care this much, and part of him was quietly, stubbornly intrigued, wondering just how much of you he was going to notice before the week was over.

then, friday night, his phone buzzed. it was a message from minjeong, a girl he sometimes hooked up with, asking if she could come see the new apartment. he stared at the screen, a grin creeping onto his face. of course, no problem. before replying, he hesitated for a second, realizing he should probably check with you first, but the thought of minjeong seeing the place and giving him a little validation was too tempting. he typed a quick yes and hit send, already anticipating how you might react when he mentioned it. he wasn’t sure if you would care or just shrug it off, and part of him was curious to see which way it would go. it was a small test, really, to see where you stood in his world now, after a week of careful observation, silent judgments, and that inexplicable pull he couldn’t ignore.

so he walked out of his room ready to find you and give his very casual, very “oh by the way” announcement, only to be met with an empty apartment. no shoes by the door, no faint sound of your music bleeding through your bedroom walls. you hadn’t mentioned going anywhere — not that you had to, you weren’t friends — but still, it was weird. so jake pulled his phone out, thumb hovering for a second before typing:

[jake]: hey, just so u know, i invited someone over 

a beat later, your reply came in: 

[you]: ok 

just that. his brows knit, an odd twist forming in his chest. 

[jake]: where u at? 

he typed, almost without thinking. the answer was immediate and annoyingly vague: 

[you]: out

he stared at it, something about that one word sticking under his skin. you were out. out where? out with who? and why didn’t you care that he was bringing someone here? so now he’s pacing around the living room for a while. it’s not like he expected you to drop your location or anything, but something about it just sits wrong in his chest. and now he’s overthinking. where could you even be? and why is he suddenly caring this much? he tells himself it’s just curiosity. except he keeps checking his phone like you might send a follow-up.

and by the time minjeong shows up, he’s still in his own head about it. she walks in all confident, tosses her hair, does the whole slow smile thing she always does. “nice place,” she says, already looking him up and down like she’s rating him along with the apartment. he smirks back, plays along, but it’s half-automatic. she leans on the kitchen counter and asks if he missed her. he says “of course” because that’s what he’s supposed to say, but his eyes flick to his phone sitting on the coffee table, dark screen staring back at him.

they sit on the couch, she slides closer, her hand on his thigh, and he’s doing the whole flirty banter thing but it’s on autopilot. every time there’s a sound from the hallway, his head snaps toward the door. minjeong notices after the third time and laughs, “what, expecting someone else?” he shakes his head, “nah, just… thought i heard something.” she raises an eyebrow but lets it go, moving in again. he’s responsive, sure, but his brain keeps circling back to the same two questions: where the hell are you, and why does it bug him so much that you didn’t care about this?

eventually, she’s kissing him and he’s kissing her back, and they’re headed toward his room. he’s still glancing toward the door every few seconds like you’re going to walk in at any moment. when they get to the bed, his phone is still in his hand for a second before he remembers to toss it on the nightstand. she notices and smirks, “you waiting for a more exciting guest?” he laughs it off, pulling her down with him, but his ears are still half-tuned to any noise outside. it’s ridiculous, he knows it, but the whole thing feels a little off-balance, like part of him is still in the living room waiting for the front door to open.

and the front door didn’t open that night at all. unless you count when minjeong left. it was late, way past midnight, after they’d already done enough to wake up the entire building if anyone had been around to hear it. and that was the thing, no one was. or at least, you weren’t. and jake kept coming back to that, the quiet in the apartment that wasn’t just because minjeong was gone. you hadn’t come home. you hadn’t been home all night.

he sat on the couch for a bit after walking minjeong out, phone in his hand like he was expecting some kind of alert, something that would tell him where you were without having to actually ask. he scrolled aimlessly, checked the time, opened and closed your chat three times without typing anything. he told himself it wasn’t his business, you were an adult, you could do whatever you wanted. but the longer he sat there, the more he kept glancing at the door like maybe you’d just appear. so around three in the morning, after deciding he wasn’t gonna sleep unless he knew for sure, he finally gave in. he typed out something short:

[jake]: ur not coming back tonight? do u have ur key? i’m locking up 

it didn’t take long for your reply to come through: 

[you]: not sleeping at home 

[you]: i have my key 

short, no explanation as always, just enough to make him stare at the screen for a while. he locked the door like he said he would, but even then, he stayed in the living room a bit longer, phone face down on the coffee table, wondering why the hell it mattered so much. he told himself it was just because he liked knowing who was in the apartment at night. that was all. just basic roommate awareness. nothing else.

when he woke up the next morning, you were already home, the house smelled faintly of coffee. it was quiet, a lived-in silence. he could almost map your movements from his room. you’d been up for a while, moving like someone who didn’t feel the need to announce their presence. he padded into the kitchen barefoot, hair still sticking up from sleep, and found you leaning against the counter with a mug in hand. you were watching the coffee swirl lazily inside it, eyes still heavy but mind clearly elsewhere. for some reason, that annoyed him a little, how comfortable you seemed in your own head. “would be nice if you told someone when you’re sleeping out,” he said, tone casual, but not casual enough. “so no one gets worried.”

you looked up slowly, brows pulling together just a touch. it wasn’t defensive, more like you were trying to understand why he’d say something like that. “why would you be worried? it’s not your problem.”

he blinked at you, caught off guard by how flatly you said it. “it’s… common courtesy,” he said after a beat, shrugging like it was obvious. “worrying about where a woman is. world’s dangerous out there.”

you laughed. it wasn’t polite or restrained, and it was the first genuine sound like that he’d heard from you. light, unguarded, almost surprised at him. “wow. you’re quite the gentleman.” you took another sip of coffee, your mouth curling faintly at the rim of the mug. “did you at least invite the girl from last night to stay over?”

his brows lifted slightly. “how do you know there was a girl here?”

“you said you’d invited someone. i assumed.”

“could’ve been a friend.”

“was it?”

he hesitated. “…no.”

“and you didn’t let her sleep here? sent her home in the middle of the night? what a gentleman you are.” and the way you said it was easy, amused, not mocking exactly, but you knew it would get under his skin. and it did.

you brushed past him then, and you disappeared into your room. he stood there longer than he should have, eyes fixed on the doorway you’d gone through. something about the whole thing stuck in his chest: the way you’d turned his comment back on him, the ease with which you’d disarmed him, that little smile like you were in on a joke he hadn’t been told. and jake wasn’t entirely sure what the hell was going on with him. he didn’t like people poking around in his life, didn’t like having to explain himself, didn’t even like the idea of anyone thinking they could read him. and yet something about you was getting under his skin. it was irritating.

so he told himself it wasn’t that deep. just curiosity, right? he wanted to figure you out. that was it, nothing more. but still, when he realized you had that same morning class together — the one you’d already gone head-to-head in a couple weeks ago — he caught himself planning for it. the class started early, and usually he’d drag himself out of bed last minute, throwing on whatever shirt that didn’t smell and heading out without a word. this time was different, he set his alarm for an hour earlier, got up without hitting snooze, even made coffee before you could. it wasn’t about impressing you (he wouldn’t admit it even to himself if it was) it was about… timing. so by the time you emerged from your room, hair still a little mussed from sleep, jake was leaning casually against the counter, mug in hand, already dressed and ready to go. casual, like he hadn’t been waiting. like this was just how his mornings worked.

“you’re up early,” you said, almost suspicious.

“yeah. felt like it,” he replied, too quickly, then took a slow sip of coffee to make it seem effortless. but the truth was, he’d calculated this perfectly. if he left when you left, that meant you had to walk together. and if you walked together, maybe he’d get another piece of whatever puzzle you were. so you’re halfway through your coffee when you notice he’s still there. jake’s on the couch, legs stretched out, phone in hand, not even pretending he’s in a rush. you’re moving around the kitchen, rinsing the mug, tying your hair back, checking the time, and he’s just sitting there. you give him this look, a suspicious glance, like, shouldn’t you be gone by now? but he doesn’t move.

when you finally ask why he hasn’t left yet, he says he’s waiting. you keep getting ready, slipping on your jacket, and ask what for. he says for the time to go. you stop for a second, frown at him, then keep going. “we have class together,” he adds, like it’s a fact that explains everything. 

you shrug. “and?” he looks at you like the “and” is obvious. 

“and it’s easier if we go together.” you stare at him a little longer, just enough to make him shift in his seat, then go back to your routine without answering.

in his head he’s already decided it was a bad idea. not the worst one he’s ever had, but bad enough that he’s starting to think he should’ve just left first, slipped out before you were done, because now it’s getting weird. the kind of weird where you’re both in the same room but not really in the same moment. he’s slouched on the couch, not even pretending to do anything else, just letting his eyes follow you while you get your stuff. when you’re finally ready and moving toward the door, you stop halfway like you remembered something. he waits, thinking you forgot your phone, but you just stand there looking at him. “what?” he says, his voice almost casual but not quite. 

you blink at him, like you’re surprised he even had to ask, and then you say, “aren’t you coming with me?” and for a second he doesn’t know how to answer, because he wasn’t planning on it, and somehow you asking makes it feel like he should’ve been. you grab your bag, holding the door open just enough to make it obvious you’re waiting. he gets up slower than necessary, like maybe to prove a point, and follows you out into the hallway. you lock the door, check the handle once, then start walking without looking at him. he falls into step beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, posture easy like he’s just strolling instead of heading to an 8am lecture. 

and for a while it’s just the sound of your shoes on the pavement and his occasional sniff. the air’s still got that sharp morning chill, and you pull your jacket a little tighter. he glances at you sideways, like he’s got something to say but he’s holding it back until it’ll land the way he wants. “remember the last time we had this class together?” he finally says, the corners of his mouth lifting.

you don’t look at him. “no.”

“yeah you do,” he presses, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “we ended up arguing for, like, half the lecture. i don’t even remember what it was about.”

“then maybe it wasn’t important.”

he laughs under his breath. “probably not. but i remember you getting all serious about it. it was kinda—” he tilts his head at you, “—entertaining.”

you stop at the crosswalk, eyes fixed on the blinking red hand. “you only think that because you never have anything real to say.”

he looks at you shocked. “…what?”

“you heard me,” you say, and it’s not even mean, just matter-of-fact, and jake at this point this is how you always make your point.

the light changes, and you step forward before he can come up with a comeback. he walks next to you, but there’s a pause now, and he can feel it settle in his chest, strange. because you’re not wrong, but you’re also not someone who usually just says things like that. he’s half smiling, but inside he’s turning the comment over, wondering if you’ve always thought that or if you just decided it today. so by the time you’re halfway down the block, he decides to poke at it. “so… you think i talk just to hear my own voice?”

“no,” you say, not looking at him. “i think you talk because silence makes you uncomfortable.”

he lets out a low whistle. “wow. brutal.”

“also true.”

he kicks at a crack in the sidewalk. “and here i thought we were bonding on this nice morning walk.”

“we’re walking to class. that’s all.”

but you say it without any heat, and that messes with him more than if you’d snapped. he’s used to people either feeding into his teasing or shutting it down, but you do neither. you just keep going, like he’s background noise. and the whole time, he’s thinking about how he doesn’t actually know where you stand on… well, anything. he knows the shapes of your reactions, the expressions you make, the way you close off when you’re done with a conversation. but the why behind it? no clue. and for someone like him, who’s so used to reading people, that’s almost infuriating. almost. because if he’s honest, it’s also the most interesting part.

once you get to the class, you’re sitting two seats to the left of him. the class today is some big group discussion thing, and the professor has just announced the topic: social media and whether it’s made society better or worse. jake’s leaning back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk, already plotting his moment. he doesn’t really care about the actual topic, he just wants to say something dumb enough to make you whip your head around in disbelief. he figures you’ll roll your eyes, maybe sigh loudly, maybe mutter something under your breath. that’s the payoff he’s after.

when his turn comes, he clears his throat, and with this fake casual tone goes, “i think social media’s the best thing to ever happen to humanity. like, if we didn’t have it, we’d still be living in caves or something.” he even throws in a little shrug, like, yeah, obviously. he’s waiting for you to bite. but you don’t. you don’t even look at him. instead, from across the room, some guy he vaguely recognizes — sunghan or sungchan, something like that — immediately jumps in. “that’s literally the dumbest take i’ve heard in weeks,” the guy says, and then launches into this rapid-fire list of points about misinformation, mental health crises, economic inequality, all tied back to the rise of social media. it’s brutal. sunghan/sungchan has stats, examples, quotes from studies. jake tries to cut in once or twice with a “yeah but—” or “that’s not really—” but he gets steamrolled every single time.

the professor looks mildly entertained but doesn’t intervene. the rest of the class is clearly enjoying the free show. by the time the guy is done, jake has been verbally drop-kicked into oblivion and is now just sitting there, staring at his notes like they might save him. that’s when he catches you trying so hard not to laugh. your head is tilted slightly down, your hand covering your mouth, but your shoulders are shaking just enough to give you away. he can see your eyes flick toward him for a split second before you look back at your screen. it’s not loud, it’s not mean, but you’re absolutely laughing at him, and somehow that’s worse than if you’d just called him an idiot to his face.

so when class ended, jake lingered by the door, pretending to check his phone but really waiting to see your reaction. he didn’t quite know why he cared at all, but he did it anyway. you were gathering your bag slowly, methodically, like you weren’t in a rush to leave. he caught your eye for a second, trying to gauge if you were mad or impressed or whatever it was he felt. “so… that guy kind of roasted you,” you said as you slung your bag over your shoulder, not even looking at him. your tone was flat, but there was something in it that made jake pause. probably because he never thought you could possibly initiate a conversation, but you did. 

“i was just… making a point,” he said, a little defensively, leaning against the wall. “i thought it would… shake things up.”

you glanced at him, brow slightly raised. “you mean irritate everyone in the room?”

“that’s… partially true,” he admitted, smirking. “but also, come on, he kind of came at me with like ten facts and three graphs and this is, frankly, your fault.”

you finally looked at him, eyes narrowing a fraction. “what? why?”

“erm, yeah,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “you were the only person i wanted to see annoyed.” he paused, realizing he sounded ridiculous, but didn’t care enough to fix it.

you snorted softly, almost a laugh, and jake’s stomach did that weird flip. “you’re really trying to get my attention like that?"

jake blinked at you, caught off guard by how direct you were. he opened his mouth to say something clever, then closed it again, realizing anything he said would sound stupid. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to look casual, like he wasn’t suddenly hyper-aware of every word you were saying. “uh… i mean, no, not really,” he said finally, shrugging in a way that was supposed to be nonchalant but probably came off awkward. “i was just… paying attention, that’s all.”

you just shook your head slightly, a faint smirk playing on your lips, and muttered, “sure, keep telling yourself that,” before turning and walking out of the room without another word. jake stayed where he was, frozen for a second, watching you move. he told himself he was just observing, making mental notes, like a perfectly normal, totally innocent thing to do. but the second he saw you from behind, the way your jacket shifted and the rhythm of your steps, he caught himself glancing lower than he probably should have. he immediately chastised himself internally, straightening up and trying to act casual, pretending he wasn’t noticing anything at all, but the truth was, his eyes had betrayed him, and now he couldn’t stop tracking you. he followed you with a mix of fascination and mild guilt, half annoyed at himself for reacting like that, half unable to look away of your ass. he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t a big deal, that he wasn’t being creepy, that it was just instinct or habit or some excuse he could believe. 

jake ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the tension that had built up since he’d watched you leave. heeseung caught up with him in the hallway, leaning casually against the railing, and immediately smirked. “dude… were you checking her ass?” when the fuck did heeseung get here?

jake blinked, caught off guard. “no, not like that, i—i just… it was unavoidable. she walked past me.” he tried to sound convincing, but the explanation sounded thin even to his own ears.

heeseung raised an eyebrow, that teasing grin still in place. “so you did check your roommate’s ass.”

“you’re making me sound like a creep,” jake protested, heat rising to his face despite his attempt at nonchalance.

“you are a little bit creepy, to be fair,” heeseung said flatly, shrugging.

jake groaned, spinning his hand through his hair again, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument. and yeah, he knew he’d looked. he was painfully aware of it. he couldn’t deny that you were attractive: your build, your posture, the way you moved with this effortless, contained confidence. and then there were your eyes, sharp and perceptive, the kind that seemed to see everything, even if you said nothing. he was aware of all of it, aware that you had this pull on him he didn’t want to admit, aware that your quiet, self-contained presence made every glance he stole more intense than it should be.

heeseung laughed, shaking his head like he’d just figured out jake’s secret. “man, you’re doomed,” he said, nudging jake lightly. “you’re already halfway in over your head.” jake rolled his eyes, but inside he was already replaying the way you’d walked past, how the jacket shifted over your shoulders, the calm, almost indifferent way you moved. he’d caught himself staring, yeah, but he didn’t care to admit it, not to anyone. it was one more thing about you he couldn’t figure out, one more reason he was quietly, stubbornly fascinated, and even though he’d never say it aloud, part of him couldn’t wait to see what else about you would catch his attention.

and that first month after jake checked you out, went by in a weird blur. not weird in the sense that anything dramatic happened, but in the way where jake kept catching himself noticing things he swore he wouldn’t care about. you were quiet, which he expected and knew. what he didn’t expect was how the silence wasn’t awkward, but it was steady. you didn’t give much away, not about your life, not about your family, not even about basic stuff like what you did on weekends before moving in. you always had this wall up, and he couldn’t tell if it was intentional or just the way you were. still, every once in a while, out of nowhere, you’d drop a sarcastic comment that was so perfectly timed it threw him off. it wasn’t often, but when it happened, he caught himself laughing harder than he probably should’ve.

he tried to test the waters sometimes, inviting people over just to see if you’d react. girls, friends, whoever. and honestly, you didn’t. if anything, you were almost too chill about it. you’d disappear into your room, door closed, headphones probably on, and not make a sound. the first time it happened, he thought maybe you’d get annoyed, or passive aggressive, but you didn’t. you didn’t even seem to care. and that made him feel guilty in a way he couldn’t explain. like, you were being way too decent about it for him to even think about making noise on purpose. he considered it once, just to see if you’d snap, but then he imagined how shitty it would be if you did that to him, so he didn’t.

with his friends, you were a little different. sometimes you’d come out and say hi, mostly if jungwon was around, since you already knew him. you talked to him more than the others, and jake noticed that too. you weren’t rude to the rest, but you didn’t go out of your way to interact either. it wasn’t that you were antisocial, more that you just didn’t give out pieces of yourself easily. and that became the part jake couldn’t stop circling back to.

what threw him most was how the tension kept building, even when nothing was really happening. the more you stayed closed off, the more he wanted to know. it didn’t help that every time he called someone over, it felt emptier than it used to. he didn’t know when it shifted, but it did. before, having a girl over was automatic, easy. now, after a couple weeks, it just didn’t feel the same and he didn’t even know why. the excuse he told himself was that he was busy, but deep down he wondered if it was because of you. he hated that thought, so he shoved it down, but it lingered anyway.

some nights he caught himself with the dumbest thing in his head, thinking you were kind of a shadow holding him hostage. he’d laugh to himself, because obviously it wasn’t that deep, but then again, the words fit in a way he didn’t want to admit. he’d think about it when he was lying awake, about how he hadn’t wanted a roommate in the first place, and now that he had one, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he didn’t know about you. 

and then you told him you were having someone over. first time ever. no warning, no buildup, just said it casually like it wasn’t a big deal. but it was for him, at least. he tried not to make a face, though his brain immediately went into overdrive. someone over? who? what kind of someone? was this, like, a friend situation or more than that? he didn’t know if it was his place to even ask. you’d made it pretty clear from the beginning that there was space between you two, that you weren’t looking to blur lines. and since you never asked him anything about his own business, it felt wrong to pry into yours.

still, the curiosity was eating him alive. he asked the only question that came to his head: if you wanted him to leave. the second he said it, he regretted it, because there was nothing in the world he wanted less than leaving. but he said it anyway, tried to make it sound casual, then added if you wanted him locked in his room instead. you barely looked up from what you were doing. “do whatever you want,” you said, and that got him. it was nothing, just three words, but it stuck like a thorn.

later, when the knock came at the door, he was already in his room pretending to be busy, except he wasn’t. he was standing near the door with his phone in his hand, not even scrolling, just waiting. he opened it a crack when he heard your voice, enough to press his ear to the wood like some kind of loser. the voice that answered you was familiar: beomgyu. of course, it made perfect sense. he knew him from campus, mostly through heeseung, since the two of them were basically glued together in that haze of weed smoke. he wasn’t surprised you knew him too, and it also tracked. he remembered the vape pen you’d handed him the first day you moved in. he’d never actually seen you smoke in the apartment or even outside, but he had the sense you did. actually, jake never really saw you doing anything at all. so he listened in without shame. your voices were close, just muffled enough through the wood to make him lean harder. “you’re not alone?” beomgyu asked at some point.

“no,” you said. “jake’s here.”

there was a pause before beomgyu spoke again, casual, almost nosy: “you guys getting along?”

“it’s not like we interact that much,” you replied easily, like it wasn’t anything. “but i’d say yeah, it’s fine.” and he froze at that. not like we interact that much. it was true, technically. still, hearing it out loud made something twist in his stomach. it wasn’t an insult, not even close, but he stood there staring at the door like he’d just been punched. so he waited for more, but you and beomgyu moved on to something else he couldn’t quite catch. he didn’t realize until then how ridiculous he must’ve looked: half crouched, ear glued to the door, but he stayed there anyway.

eventually, you and beomgyu went to your room. the realization left him with this strange knot in his stomach. he couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or just curiosity, or maybe both at the same time. he hated that he couldn’t put a name to it. he tried to ignore it, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, but the longer he sat there, the worse it got. eventually he gave up and got out of his room. he told himself he just wanted water, and that if he happened to run into beomgyu on the way, it wouldn’t even be weird. as long as beomgyu had his clothes on, it would be fine. he padded out into the kitchen, pretending to be casual, but his ears were tuned to your room. that’s when he heard your laugh. not the polite little chuckle you gave, but a loud laugh, the kind that broke out without you trying to hold it back. and it was beomgyu who made you laugh like that. jake stood there with the fridge door open, not even grabbing anything, just frowning at the sound like it personally offended him.

and then there was the smell. faint at first, but it didn’t take long to confirm. weed. you and beomgyu were smoking inside your room. jake shut the fridge, leaned on the counter, and tried to process that. he could feel himself spiraling, pacing a little, walking back and forth because he couldn’t sit still. the laugh still echoed in his head, mixed with the smoke that somehow seeped into the hall. after a while, the sound died down. no more laughter, no more voices, just silence. that was worse than hearing you laugh. jake went back to his room and then left it again almost immediately, too restless. he didn’t know what to do with himself. he hated the idea that out of every guy you could have decided to let into your room, it was beomgyu.

the thing was, jake actually liked beomgyu before this. he thought he was funny in that stupid way that worked in groups. he wasn’t the kind of guy jake ever thought of as competition, because why would he? beomgyu was the type who got away with everything because no one could ever be mad at him for long. but now that jake knew you were close to him, suddenly all the little things he’d brushed off about beomgyu started to bother him. his jokes weren’t that clever, he laughed at his own comments too much, he had this way of talking like he knew everything, and it grated on jake’s nerves. and the fact that you, out of all people, thought he was worth laughing with made jake’s chest feel tight. 

and after a while, beomgyu left your room, you right behind him. jake was sitting on the couch with the tv on, some random show playing, though he hadn’t registered a single line of dialogue. he just wanted to be there, in plain sight, like some kind of silent reminder that this was still his apartment too. beomgyu walked out looking way too comfortable, way too casual for jake’s taste. he greeted jake like they were the best of friends, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. and sure, they weren’t strangers. they’d hung out a couple times, he was funny, easy to get along with. but right now jake didn’t care. he forced a smile, threw out a polite “hey man,” but his jaw was tight, and he knew his expression wasn’t fooling anyone.

you followed close behind, hair a little messy, eyes bright, clearly in a good mood. when beomgyu said goodbye, he leaned down and hugged you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “later, we’ll finish severance,” he said casually, like it was already an established ritual.

that one line stuck to jake’s ribs more than he wanted it to. severance. he didn’t even know you were watching that. now apparently you were watching it with beomgyu. his brain started filing through everything he knew about you, like he was trying to build some complete picture and somehow come out on top of it. he knew you had those hello kitty mugs in the kitchen, the kuromi dish towel, the snoopy blanket folded on your bed. so he knew you liked hello kitty and snoopy. he’d seen you drink coffee so watered down he almost called it tea. he’d heard you listening to old one direction songs, he knew you wore vanilla perfume, he knew you were friends with sakura and that once you’d worked on some project with jungwon, and that is how you got to know him. he knew all that. and now he had to add this new thing to the list, you were watching severance with beomgyu. and he didn’t know what you and beomgyu had, or if he even wanted to know. but it gnawed at him anyway, the idea that beomgyu had a piece of you he didn’t.

when beomgyu left, he said “see you, bro,” and jake nodded with the fakest polite smile, jaw tight. he wasn’t mad at beomgyu specifically, not really. but he was mad. he didn’t even know at what. maybe himself. maybe the fact that he didn’t know what the hell was going on in the room next to his.

when the door shut, you came back into the living room, and jake turned his head, voice low and even, like he was casually making conversation. “you were smoking?”

you froze for a second and then shrugged, reaching for something in the kitchen. “yeah. sorry if the smell bothered you.”

“didn’t bother me,” he said quickly. “i smoke all the time and you’ve never said anything.”

you looked back at him, eyebrows raised. “as long as you’re not smoking weed that stinks up the whole apartment, i don’t care.” you laughed a little, and jake felt the sound sit differently in his chest, lighter than before, like the tension had finally shifted. so he just tried to shoot his shot, because you were apparently in a good mood. and he hated that this probably had something to do with freaking beomgyu.

you busied yourself in the kitchen, pulling things out for a late snack, and jake found himself staring, debating if he should shut up or just ask. he leaned back, pretending casual. “so… you and beomgyu, then? i wouldn’t have guessed.”

the second the words left him, you burst out laughing. not a small laugh either, but a full, loud one that echoed through the place. you turned around, hand still holding whatever you’d grabbed from the fridge, and shook your head at him. “jake. beomgyu is my cousin!”

his brain short-circuited. he sat there, stone-faced, but inside he wanted to hit his head against the wall. hours. he’d spent hours stewing, imagining you making out with someone in the room next to his. all that, just for you to be hanging out with family. “oh,” he said finally, trying to keep it cool, but his voice cracked slightly at the end. he cleared his throat. “i—”

you were still laughing, wiping under your eye like you might tear up from how hard it hit you. “you thought—oh my god, you thought we were…?”

“i didn’t think anything,” he cut in, sharp, defensive. “just asked. chill.”

you grinned at him, knowing you’d hit a nerve. “yeah, sure. you didn’t think anything.”

jake pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking back to the tv, but all he could hear was your laugh ringing in the kitchen and the absolute humiliation settling in his stomach. maybe he was losing it. maybe he was reading way too much into things. maybe he just really, really hated not knowing anything about you so he was starting to make things up. so later that night he ended up doing the worst possible thing, which was talking to sunghoon and heeseung about it. and those two should not be trusted with advice, ever. they were sitting around in heeseung’s living room, controllers in hand, when jake let it slip, just needing to get it off his chest. “dude, if you wanna know more about her, it’s not that deep,” sunghoon said, not even looking up from the screen. “just… ask. or, i don’t know, pay attention.”

“yeah,” heeseung added, stretching. “you follow her on instagram, right? that’s step one.”

jake shook his head. “i don’t follow her.”

both of them turned to look at him like he’d confessed to a crime. “but you’ve stalked her, obviously,” sunghoon said.

“yeah,” jake admitted immediately. “of course i did. but she doesn’t have anything posted. she’s super low profile. it’s useless.”

they nodded like this was the biggest tragedy they’d ever heard, and then heeseung leaned in, annoyingly calm. “the only reason you’re going crazy about this is because you don’t know if she’s single.”

“that’s not it,” jake snapped back a little too quickly, a little too defensive. but it was kind of it. not all of it, but a piece. the truth was he’d been catching himself noticing you in ways he didn’t want to admit. at first it was just the obvious things, like your face, the way your hair always looked like you didn’t think about it too hard but it still landed perfectly. then it was smaller things, like the way you tilt your head when you’re listening to someone, or how your hands move when you’re talking, like your words can’t quite keep up. he didn’t want to be one of those guys who sits there cataloging every detail, but he couldn’t help it. he’d catch himself watching the way you crossed your legs, or the way you leaned forward when you laughed, and then immediately look away like he hadn’t been staring. it wasn’t even about being smooth or making a move, it was just the fact that you were magnetic in this casual, almost annoying way. and he hated that he noticed all of it, hated that every time you walked out of a room he was replaying little flashes of how you looked without meaning to.

so yeah, he wanted to know if you were single. he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but it just stuck in his head after the whole beomgyu thing. so later that week, he brought it up to jungwon in the most casual way he could manage, like it was just some random passing thought. he mentioned the whole situation, how he thought beomgyu was something else and how embarrassing it was to find out he wasn’t. jungwon listened, eyebrows slightly raised, and then cut straight to the point. “so you want to know if she’s single?”

jake nearly choked. “no, no, i mean, not really. i was just curious because i thought beomgyu was, you know, something. but i was wrong, so…” he trailed off, trying to look unbothered.

jungwon, who was sharper than he ever let on, tilted his head. “look, i don’t know either. she’s pretty closed off. but i don’t think so. never saw her with anyone.” so that was useless. jake got nothing out of it, except more confusion. but then he remembered something heeseung had said the night before, in one of those stupid conversations they always had. heeseung had said, if you want to know how a girl feels about you, just see how she reacts to your body. which was ridiculous advice, borderline dumb, and jake wasn’t going to actually be weird about it. but the thought stuck in his head anyway.

so on friday, he decided to test it. he walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his hips, though he had underwear on underneath just in case of a worst case scenario. he slowed his pace on purpose, trying to look normal but also making sure he was giving enough time for it to register. you were on the couch, legs curled under you, your kindle in hand. you looked up the second he stepped out, and your eyes went wide. “what the fuck.”

he froze mid-step, doing his best to look surprised. “oh my god, sorry, i thought you weren’t home.”

you stared at him, unimpressed. “you literally saw me when you went into the bathroom.”

he pressed his lips together, pretending to think. “oh, did i? must’ve forgot.” he said it with that smug little edge to his voice, and then walked off to his room like nothing happened. but he noticed the way your cheeks went a little red. you didn’t choke on air or drop your kindle obviously, but it was a reaction, just this tiny shift, like your body betrayed you for a second. he saw your eyes flicker over his torso quickly before darting straight back down to your kindle, like you hadn’t seen a thing at all. like you weren’t even aware you’d done it. and jake, being jake, stood there for half a second longer than he should’ve, towel secured, trying not to smirk too obviously. because yeah, maybe heeseung’s advice was dumb. actually, no — heeseung’s advice was dumb. but for the first time, jake thought it might not have been completely useless. 

so after that day, he started testing it, but nothing obvious, nothing that would make you call him out. he’d come back from the gym and not bother putting on a hoodie, just a loose tank that clung a little too much, shoulders still damp. he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to flex, just walked past you while you were on the couch and pretended not to notice when your eyes flicked up and then back down to your kindle or your phone. and he pretended even harder not to notice the way your ears went pink. sometimes he’d just hang around shirtless longer than necessary, instead of immediately throwing on a t-shirt. and maybe you didn’t say a word, maybe you didn’t even move, but he always caught the tiniest shifts, like the way you swallowed before answering him, the way you suddenly focused harder on whatever was in front of you.

one afternoon you were in the kitchen, standing at the counter making something to eat. he came up behind you to grab something from the cabinet, leaning just close enough to tower over your shoulder. you didn’t turn around, you didn’t step aside, but he noticed the way your shoulders tensed when his arm brushed past. he reached up, pulled down the box he needed, and that’s when he saw the tag sticking out from the back of your shirt. “your tag’s out,” he muttered, and before you could react he just pushed it back in with two fingers. but he felt the way goosebumps rose on your neck, the way your body stilled like you weren’t sure what to do with that touch. he didn’t say anything else, neither did you. he just stood there for a beat longer, holding the box, trying to act normal. but inside, he was wired. because you never said anything out loud, never gave him words to work with, but your body did. and he felt it, he felt it every single time.

and jake was convincing himself he was only doing it because you didn’t react badly. if the first time he’d tried something like that you had rolled your eyes, made a sharp comment, or told him to knock it off, he would’ve laughed it away and never tried again. that’s how it always went with you; if he pushed, you pushed back harder. you had a quick tongue and zero patience for his nonsense, and he’d seen you cut other people down in a heartbeat when they stepped out of line (him included). but with this, you let it happen. and that made him think, it was throwing him off because it didn’t fit the version of you he knew. you were sarcastic about everything, and if you weren’t shutting him down, then maybe he wasn’t crossing a line.

but then, over the next few weeks, he began to notice that it wasn’t just him anymore. or at least that’s what it felt like. little things turned into bigger ones, impossible to write off as accidents. like you’d bend down to grab something off the floor right in front of him, slow enough that his eyes didn’t have anywhere else to go. jake would clench his jaw, forcing himself to look away, but not before heat rushed straight to his ears (and pants). you’d sit on the arm of the couch instead of the empty cushion, your knee brushing his shoulder, your perfume sinking into his hoodie. one night you padded into the kitchen in just a tank top, stretching on your toes to reach the top shelf. jake had to press his palms against the counter behind him, knuckles whitening, because you didn’t ask for help, no, you just let him watch, every line of your body outlined under the dim light.

and jake thought maybe nothing was going on. maybe it was all in his head, even though it didn’t look like coincidence anymore. the way you brushed against him, the way your eyes lingered for just a second too long. it felt like you were teasing him back, in your own quiet, calculated way. and that awareness — knowing full well how fucked he was — made everything worse. because you see, you didn’t let people in. you kept yourself locked tight, doors closed, curtains drawn. he knew barely anything about you outside these four walls. you never volunteered details about your life, never invited him to tag along, never acted like you wanted to be friends. you weren’t close, not in the normal sense. you were just roommates, nothing else. but still… something was shifting. 

he remembered the first time he tested the waters when you walked past him in the hall and your perfume lingered long after you’d gone. he’d said it out loud, without thinking, a bold comment about how good you smelled. you froze, and you didn’t even say a proper thank you, you just mumbled something about liking vanilla, your voice a little too quick, a little too uneven. and then you disappeared into your room, shutting the door like nothing happened. but jake stood there for ten minutes after, heart hammering, because that reaction told him everything. 

and then came the touch. he’d been struggling with this stupid package, a cardboard box of instant ramen, taped shut like fort knox. he was grunting under his breath, fighting with the seal, when you stepped in. annoyed, you muttered something about him doing it wrong, and before he could argue, your hands were on him. your fingers wrapped around his wrists, guiding his movements until the box tore open with ease. you sighed, and for a moment, all he could focus on was how close you were. the heat of your body pressed into his arm, the faint brush of your hair against his jaw when you leaned in. and then you looked up at him. eyes wide, impossibly soft, lashes catching the kitchen light. there was that tiny smirk ghosting over your lips, playful, smug, like you knew exactly what you’d just done to him. “there you go,” you murmured, almost teasing, before slipping away, leaving him standing there with his pulse thundering in his ears.

after that, he couldn’t stop thinking. he went over it again and again, trying to decide if it meant anything or if he was just imagining things. he told himself it was probably nothing. just you being impatient. just him reading into it too much.

but the confirmation came later. he came home one night, the door clicked shut behind him. his shoes made a sharp sound against the floor as he walked inside. the apartment was still. no tv, no music, no movement. then he stopped, because there was a sound. faint and muffled. it came from the end of the hallway, where your door was closed. he stood still, listening. it came again. a short, broken sound. a soft whimper.

jake first thought he was imagining things. but when you did it again, he froze. this time he thought maybe you were hurt, maybe something was wrong. but the one after came too soft, too broken, too close to pleasure for him to mistake it. he checked the shoes at the door. only his and yours. no one else in the apartment. and there was no way you hadn’t heard him come in. jake knew how loud the door was. you always heard it, you always knew. and still, you were moaning in your room. that pushed it somewhere else entirely. if it was teasing, it was nothing like before. 

so he stomped back to his bedroom, jaw tight, every step heavier than the last. he felt like a freak for listening, for even standing there. his head kept repeating this is wrong, this is way past what i thought it was. but his body didn’t match, his pants told the truth. they were tight, uncomfortable. jake was hard. and that was the part that made him feel even worse. it wasn’t just that he’d overheard you; it was that the sound had hit him so fast he hadn’t even had time to deny it. it was automatic. one second he was frozen in the hallway, ears straining, the next his cock was pressing against the front of his jeans like his body had made the decision for him.

he sat on the edge of his bed, hands on his knees, trying to steady his breathing. what the fuck is wrong with me. she’s in there. she knows i’m home. she knows. the thought circled, sharp, louder than the blood rushing in his ears. he pressed his palm over the front of his pants like maybe the pressure would calm it down, but it only made him notice how hard he really was. he wanted to block it out, pretend he hadn’t heard anything. he wanted to tell himself you were just on the phone, or crying, or anything else that would make sense. but the sound was burned into his head already. too clear, too close. there was no mistaking it. and that was what fucked him up the most, that his body had answered to you before his brain could even think.

he leaned forward, elbows digging into his thighs, palms pressed together so tight his knuckles turned white. he squeezed his eyes shut, like maybe if he just forced himself still, forced himself quiet, it would go away. the hardness, the heat, the ache curling low in his stomach. don’t. don’t be that guy. don’t even think about it. but he was already thinking about it. not even a picture, not even a scene, just the sound of you. broken and soft, leaking under your door, and now stuck in his head like it belonged to him. his cock pulsed against his zipper at the memory, like it knew exactly what it wanted. he unbuttoned his jeans, just to breathe. just to make the pressure stop, at least, that was what he told himself. but the second the fabric loosened, the relief hit so hard he nearly groaned. his cock pressed against the thin cotton of his boxers, straining, and his hand hovered there like a magnet.

his breath caught when another sound drifted from your room, faint, muffled, but loud enough, enough to knock the last bit of reason out of him. he doubled over, biting back a curse, his hand slipping under the waistband before he could even think about stopping. the heat of his own skin made him shudder. just the first brush of his palm had his hips jerking up, desperate, like he’d been holding back for hours and not minutes. his head dropped as his fist closed around himself, slow, testing. fuck, this is wrong, so fucking wrong, he thought. but his body didn’t care. it only cared about the sound of you in his head, replaying again and again, and the slick drag of his hand working him through it. his thighs tensed, breath coming out rough and uneven. every time he told himself stop, stop, stop, his wrist only moved faster, harder, chasing after the relief he knew was coming, the one he couldn’t hold back now even if he tried. his hand sped up, and he couldn’t keep quiet anymore, with small, choked sounds slipping from his throat, swallowed quickly into the dark of his room. his other hand gripped the edge of the mattress so tight his knuckles hurt, grounding himself against the pull in his body.

your sounds were all over him now. they weren’t even real anymore, not in this moment, just echoes, broken pieces his brain kept inventing, filling the silence with the way he thought you’d sound. higher, sweeter, sharper. he couldn’t shake it. he didn’t want to. “fuck…” he whispered, teeth sinking into his lip. his hips started lifting off the bed, chasing the glide of his fist, faster now, desperate. every stroke made his cock twitch, leaking into his palm, slicking his movements until he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. his abs tightened, legs spread wider, the knot low in his stomach pulling so tight it hurt. his mind screamed wrong, wrong, wrong but his body begged more. he let his head fall back, throat bared, jaw clenched as his pace turned frantic. he was so close it scared him, his whole body straining, toes curling against the floor, veins standing out along his arm. then a low, guttural sound ripped out of him as he came, hot and messy over his hand, spilling across his stomach in heavy spurts. his body jolted with each pulse, hips jerking up uncontrollably until he had nothing left.

he collapsed back against the bed, chest rising and falling, his hand still sticky and trembling where it rested over himself. for a long moment, he just stared at the ceiling, shame burning behind his eyes, sweat cooling on his skin. what the fuck did i just do. and he spent a solid ten minutes just lying there on his bed, trying to convince himself that it made sense. he told himself he was just hard because he hadn’t had sex in a whole month, that was it, nothing more. it was perfectly normal. of course, he conveniently ignored the fact that the reason he hadn’t had sex for a month was entirely because of you, but no, that part didn’t factor in. he told himself he would only realize that connection in a few months, when he could actually think clearly.

the problem now was practical. he needed to get cleaned up. he needed to go to the bathroom. the thought of leaving his room in this state, cock still leaking, cum smeared across his stomach, was unbearable. the hallway was a risk, what if he ran into you? that was not happening. there was no way he could explain this, and he wasn’t ready to see your face right now. so he grabbed an old, stained shirt, the only thing he could find, and used it to wipe himself off the best he could. it was messy and gross, and he hated every second of it, but it was the only option until it was safe to move. he stayed in his room, waiting until it was late enough that he could assume you were either asleep or completely out of the house. only then did he finally step into the bathroom for a long, careful shower, making sure to clean every part of himself.

all the while, he kept thinking about what had just happened. he knew it was nasty, he knew it was a mess, but he also couldn’t shake the fact that you probably knew he had been there, probably knew he had heard everything, and that knowledge somehow made the situation even more intense. the idea that you had been aware, that you might have noticed, hung in his head, refusing to let him relax. he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, wanted to convince himself that it was just a random, unfortunate incident, but the truth was stuck there, and now everything about being in the apartment, the quiet, the sounds, even the thought of you, carried a weight he wasn’t ready to deal with.

and in the next morning, jake didn’t expect to see you up this early. when he stepped out of his room, the smell of coffee hit him first, sharp and warm, filling the hallway and pulling him toward the kitchen. there you were, standing by the counter, wearing those stupid short pajama shorts. his blood rushed instantly, and he felt the familiar tension in his pants. he tried to take a deep breath, trying to remind himself to get a grip, telling himself you were doing absolutely nothing, that this was normal, mundane, everyday morning stuff. but the truth was, you had never worn that in front of him before, and the coincidence of it being now, after everything last night, made it impossible to ignore.

he watched you stretch, reaching for a cabinet, the shorts riding up slightly, the way your hair fell around your shoulders as you moved. his mind betrayed him immediately, going places it shouldn’t have. he pictured what you’d do if he bent you over the counter, if you’d make the prettiest sounds, whether you liked being praised or degraded more, if you— what? he had to force himself to stop before getting hard again, before thinking any further, because it was already too much and he couldn’t let it go any further in his head. the thoughts hit him so fast that he had to take a step back and shake his head, trying to stop himself before it got worse. he let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, and that’s when you noticed him. your eyes went wide, and you mumbled, almost under your breath, “oh my god… you scared me.”

“sorry,” he said quickly, voice a little rough, trying to sound casual. “good morning. uh… need to go to the bathroom.” without waiting for a response, he turned and stomped off, moving down the hall as if he owned none of the tension in his body, leaving you standing there in the kitchen with no clue what had just happened in his head.

he could still feel the heat from seeing you like that, the pressure in his pants not going away, the way his brain refused to let it drop. every step toward the bathroom was a fight against his own thoughts, and he kept telling himself over and over: it’s just coincidence. nothing happened. nothing’s happening. but deep down, he knew that wasn’t entirely true.

“bro, i don’t think i wanted to know that,” heeseung said flatly when he and jake met up after class later that week. they’d been walking out together, just talking about random shit, and jake had dropped everything on him like it was nothing. “i don’t fucking care about when you jack off or why you did it,” heeseung added, shaking his head, “but just leave me out of it, man.”

“i need to get this out of my chest, and it’s your fault it happened in the first place,” jake said, frustrated.

“my fault???” heeseung looked at him like he’d just grown a second head. “how the hell is this my fault?”

“you said that i needed to see how she reacted to my body,” jake shot back, way too fast. “so i tested it out, and she started teasing me back.”

heeseung stopped in his tracks and let out a laugh that was half disbelief, half amusement. “i can’t believe i was the butterfly effect to this.” they started walking again, but heeseung kept looking at him like he was ridiculous. “ok, look. if she’s doing it on purpose, if she’s teasing you back, then you have something to begin with. that’s not nothing. she’s not single, right?”

“yeah,” jake sighed, “i think that’s obvious. i would’ve known by now if she wasn’t.”

“so why don’t you just shoot your shot then?” heeseung asked simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

jake didn’t answer right away. he shoved his hands in his pockets, stared at the ground while they walked. he wanted to say something like, “yeah, maybe i should,” or laugh it off, but the words didn’t come. the truth was, he knew exactly why he wasn’t doing anything about it. he wasn’t stupid, he could tell there was tension there, maybe even mutual. but acting on it was a whole other thing. it wasn’t just about making a move, it was about what came after, and that thought scared the shit out of him.

yeah, he wanted you. he couldn’t stop thinking about you. every little thing you did stuck in his head way longer than it should. but then he imagined putting it all out there and being wrong, or worse, being right and not knowing what to do next. it was easier to keep it in his head, easier to let it build up until he was alone. heeseung’s words replayed in his mind even after they split ways. shoot your shot. it sounded simple. to jake, it wasn’t. he wasn’t sure if it was fear of rejection, or fear of what it would mean if you said yes. maybe both. either way, the answer was the same: he was too much of a pussy to do it.

so that week jake decided to do the most mature thing to do: hide. in his mind, the only way to deal with this was to make himself disappear. if he didn’t see you, he wouldn’t have to think about what had happened, and if he didn’t think about it, he wouldn’t have to deal with the way his body reacted every single time you walked into the room. so he avoided you. he knew the time you usually left the apartment in the morning, so suddenly he was waking up earlier just so he could sneak out before you. he knew you usually came back in the afternoon carrying way too many grocery bags for one person, so he started timing his trips to the gym right around then, making sure he wasn’t there when you struggled with the door. if you were in the kitchen, he was in his room. if you were in the living room, he was suddenly showering for the second time that day.

it wasn’t subtle, heeseung probably would’ve told him he was being obvious if he had seen it himself, but jake didn’t care. he didn’t trust himself enough to be around you casually. the worst part was that he couldn’t even look you in the eyes anymore. because if he did, there was this very real chance he’d remember how easy it was for his mind to run away with him, how easy it was to cross that line in his head. and yeah, maybe it sounded dramatic, but the truth was, jake was exhausted. he couldn’t deal with walking around half hard just because you existed near him. the hiding, in his mind, was damage control. it wasn’t him being a coward, it was him protecting himself. at least that’s what he kept telling himself when he ducked out of the apartment five minutes before you got home.

well, that was what he was trying to do before he got a random text from you.

[you]: hey

[you]: is everything alright?

jake immediately froze. you never reached out first, at least, not like this. usually it was him asking if you wanted takeout, or if you’d seen his charger, or if you could please stop leaving your shoes in the hallway before he tripped over them again. but you? starting the conversation? something was definitely off.

[jake]: yeah, why?

[you]: you left the apartment 5 times today already

[you]: do you need anything?

yeah, jake thought. i need you to stop being so fucking desirable all the time so i can concentrate on being a functional human being. but that wasn’t something he could say. and now, on top of everything else, there was the fact that you’d clearly noticed him doing laps in and out of the apartment like a maniac. the whole point of this plan was for you not to notice. so he figured the only way out was the classic jake strategy: an excuse.

[jake]: yeah heeseung went through a breakup so im just making sure he is not miserable so ill just go there everytime he texts smth depressing

the excuse rolled out faster than he could think it through. he just needed something that sounded believable enough. heeseung was safe territory, always the guy to blame when jake needed a reason for anything. if you asked questions, he could throw in a few vague details about ronnie, that girl heeseung’d mentioned ages ago. technically, it wasn’t even a total lie. ronnie had existed. jake could stretch the truth from there if he had to. but you didn’t ask. you just read the message, sat with it for a moment, and then typed back:

[you]: thats a bummer

nothing else. no digging, no casual oh, what happened? just those three words that landed in his chest heavier than they should have. and he felt this weird mixture of relief and panic. relief because you hadn’t pressed him on it, and panic because you’d noticed him enough to text in the first place. he had to admit that part of him almost wanted you to push. almost wanted you to call him out, make him explain himself, force him to say out loud the things he’d been dodging. but you didn’t, and maybe that was worse.

so later that week, niki had dragged jake into saying yes to another party. the way niki put it was, “you either come with me or you keep sulking around your room like a creep,” and honestly, jake couldn’t even argue. he was tired of hearing his own thoughts, tired of looping back to the same memory over and over again. so yeah, fine, a party at yeonjun’s house sounded better than being left alone with his brain. at least there’d be music and people he barely knew to keep him distracted.

and yeonjun’s parties weren’t your typical college movie kind of parties. they always looked like they weren’t supposed to be fun, but somehow were. it was messy but it had its charm, and jake, for the first time in a while, actually felt his shoulders loosen up. he started doing what he usually did at these things, standing with niki, making dumb comments about everyone around them, drinking just enough to not think too hard. and it worked. for a good while, it worked. the noise and the conversations around him felt like a cushion, keeping his thoughts away from you. it wasn’t until he caught a glimpse across the room that it all fell apart.

you were there. of course you were. you stood in the corner, not even trying, and still managing to make everyone else look like background characters. you were wearing this dress that was simple but unfairly perfect, paired with over-the-knee boots that jake knew he shouldn’t be noticing but he did anyway. your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, leaving your neck bare in a way that made him immediately uncomfortable with how much he was staring. and then there was some guy, leaning too close to you, talking about something jake couldn’t hear but didn’t need to. the sight of it landed in his chest harder than he expected. it wasn’t jealousy, or maybe it was, he couldn’t tell. it was more like a sharp reminder of why he’d been avoiding you in the first place. because if just looking at you from across the room was enough to make his chest tighten and his hands curl into fists, then he was in more trouble than he wanted to admit.

so he stood there, trying not to react, pretending to listen to whatever story niki was telling beside him. but his eyes kept dragging back to you, to the way you laughed at something the guy said, to how your body angled slightly toward him. and jake realized, in that exact moment, that no party was ever going to be enough to keep his mind off you. what should he do? it’s not like he had the kind of intimacy to just walk up and say something, so he just stared, completely giving himself away. heeseung noticed, of course he did, and followed jake’s eyes until he landed on you. he laughed, shaking his head. “she’s here?!” heeseung asked. 

“i thought i was imagining it,” jake said, almost under his breath. “but yeah, apparently she’s here.”

he kept telling himself to look away, to stop being obvious, but he didn’t. he was stuck there, stuck on the way your hand brushed the guy’s arm when you laughed, stuck on how unfair it was that someone else got to stand in front of you while he sat there pretending not to fall apart. and then you looked over, right at him. your smile dropped just a little, your eyes widened, and it was clear in your face that you weren’t expecting to catch him staring.

so the guy in front of you was still talking, and honestly he might as well have been reading a grocery list because you weren’t paying attention anymore. you nodded at whatever he was saying, but your eyes weren’t on him, they were on jake. and that was enough to make jake’s stomach flip because what the fuck were you doing here? he’d never seen you at one of these parties before, not once. and he would’ve noticed, of course he would’ve noticed. he kept staring, which he knew was weird, but it was either that or look away and pretend you weren’t there, and clearly he didn’t have the strength for that. you were looking right at him, and suddenly the room felt smaller. after a few beats of mutual staring, you let out a small polite smile, muttered something to the guy in front of you, and then walked straight toward him, and jake’s brain short-circuited. don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out, he kept repeating to himself, but his body wasn’t listening because all he could do was stand there like an idiot, face blank, while you got closer.

“hey,” you said, a little breathless, like you’d rushed it out before you could change your mind.

“hey,” jake replied, and his voice cracked just a little, which killed him instantly inside.

“i didn’t know you were coming,” you said.

“i didn’t know you were coming,” jake said back, immediately regretting just copying you word for word, but it was too late. you squinted at him for a second, like you were deciding whether to call him out on it, but instead he just said first, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you at parties before.”

“maybe you weren’t noticing before,” you shot back quickly, and jake felt that one in his chest. he wanted to respond but his brain was buffering, so the silence hung there until you turned to heeseung, who was standing right next to him. “heeseung, are you feeling better?” you asked softly, touching his shoulder with that concerned look on your face.

the problem was, heeseung had no idea what you were talking about. he blinked at you, confused. jake had completely forgotten he’d told you that heeseung was going through a breakup. he hadn’t exactly mentioned to heeseung that he said that. so now jake was trying to silently signal him, making weird eye contact and tiny nods, but that only made heeseung look more panicked. “uh… yeah, yeah, thank you for asking,” heeseung said finally, with a forced smile that looked more like he had no clue what was going on than confirming he was okay.

you nodded, satisfied with the answer, and jake was standing there next to him, internally screaming. so jake said it without thinking, “i didn’t see you leaving,” and as soon as the words left his mouth he already wanted to take them back. 

you didn’t even blink though, you just said, “i went to yunjin’s to get ready,” and he nodded like an idiot, and then of course, right on cue, niki and heeseung decided to wander off and leave the two of you there, which only made everything worse. jake felt the silence press down between you, and it wasn’t like he could suddenly think of something casual and clever to fill it with. he couldn’t, his brain was blank.

it was awkward, no way around it. he kept reminding himself you were his roommate, that was literally all this was supposed to be. you two shared an apartment, you ate the same snacks sometimes, you argued about whose turn it was to take out the trash. that’s what it was. normal. except, yeah, there was the tiny detail where he had jacked off to the sound of you moaning in your room and then couldn’t look you in the eye for two days straight. that was the part he left out of the roommate definition.

you reached over suddenly, grabbed the beer out of his hand, and took a sip. jake just stood there frozen, staring, trying not to think about your lips on the bottle, trying not to think about your throat moving when you swallowed. and when you looked up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, like you hadn’t just completely wrecked his self control in two seconds flat, he actually felt his body betray him. his brain started spiraling in every direction. if he let this go, if he just stood there, he’d be fine. he could laugh it off, make some comment about how you owed him a new drink, let the moment pass. but if he kept staring at your mouth like that, if he noticed the way you leaned your hip against the counter next to him, he was done for. his self restraint was already stretched thin, one more move from you and it was game over.

so he forced himself to say something, anything, even though it came out a little too fast. “you know you can’t just steal my drink like that, right?” he tried to sound casual, but you tilted the beer back into your mouth and handed it back to him like it was yours now, not his, and jake just stood there holding the wet rim of the bottle, looking at the way your lip gloss was now on the glass. and then you moved closer, enough that he felt your shoulder brushing his arm every now and then, and he swore you were doing it on purpose. you were smiling at something across the room, acting so casual, and he kept thinking maybe he was imagining it. but then you looked up at him with that expression, and your lips were parted like you were about to say something stupid, except you didn’t. you just held his gaze long enough that jake started to feel the heat crawling up his neck. he finally leaned in a little and said under his breath, “are you drunk?” it came out a little harsher than he meant, like he was scolding you, but he couldn’t help it.

“no,” you said, almost laughing at the question. “that was literally my first sip of alcohol tonight. from your bottle.” you looked smug about it too, like you knew exactly what kind of effect you were having on him.

jake blinked at you, trying to find something to do with his hands. he ended up holding the bottle a little too tight, staring at the floor, then at you again. “then what are you doing?” he asked, quieter now, like he was testing the waters.

“talking,” you said easily, like it was the most normal thing in the world, and you gave him this small grin that wasn’t helping. you nudged his shoulder with yours again, deliberately this time, and he knew it. he felt his patience thinning, like he was standing at the edge of something dangerous.

and then it slipped out before he could stop himself. “who was that guy?” his tone was sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. he hated the way he had watched you smile politely at some random dude five minutes ago.

you tilted your head at him, clearly amused at the question. “what guy?” you asked, even though you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“the one you were with when i saw you,” he muttered, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried not to look too obvious. 

you let out a soft laugh, not mean, just entertained, like you couldn’t believe he was actually asking. “oh. him. he’s no one,” you said simply, and the way you brushed it off so casually should’ve been reassuring, but it didn’t make him feel any better. and you didn’t give him the chance to respond either. instead, you leaned in just a little closer again, your voice dropping lower. “why? are you jealous?”

jake almost choked on air. he wasn’t prepared for you to throw that at him so directly. his jaw tightened as he tried to think of something to say that wasn’t a dead giveaway. he looked away, shook his head slightly, and managed a quiet, “no.” but the problem was that his ears were red, his hand was still too tight around the bottle, and he couldn’t look you in the eye anymore. and you definitely noticed, you always did. “just looked like you were… into the conversation.”

“you were staring at me,” you countered, not even hesitating.

“and what if i was?” he asked, testing the words out like they might bite back. that made you pause, which was rare, and jake noticed. it pressed on his chest in a way that didn’t feel casual at all. he could’ve laughed, shrugged, deflected like he always did, but instead he leaned in. not a lot, just enough for you to notice, and you did. 

you just looked at him, and you were close enough now that he caught the mix of your perfume and the faint smell of your shampoo. “then maybe i didn’t mind,” you said, quiet but steady.

jake’s jaw worked, and he had to glance away for half a second, his thumb tapping at the neck of the bottle. you leaned in too, closing that small gap. he turned back, met your eyes again, and his voice came out low, steady. “you shouldn’t tease me if you’re not serious.”

your head tilted a little, and you didn’t look away. “who said i’m not serious?”

that one hit him harder than he wanted to admit. he froze, his thoughts tangling up, but the silence between you wasn’t awkward this time. it was heavier, charged, and you didn’t back down. you stayed right there, waiting, like you wanted to see what he’d do. his grip on the bottle tightened and he finally said, “you know what you’re doing right now?”

“do i?” you asked, pretending you didn’t, but your tone gave you away.

and jake just stared at you for a moment too long, his chest tight, heat crawling under his skin. he couldn’t decide if you were messing with him or if this was actually happening, but either way, his restraint was hanging by a thread. jake finally swallowed, the tension in his chest making it hard to breathe normally. he shifted his weight, stepping just a fraction closer without realizing it. “i’ve been… i don’t know, noticing things,” he said, voice low, careful. “things you do. stuff that makes me… i don’t know.”

you raised a brow, tilting your head like you were trying to read him, he clenched his fist around the bottle, but it did nothing to calm the heat in his body. “like what?” you said, voice low.

he exhaled sharply. “like… how you look at me sometimes.” he paused, searching your face, seeing no judgment, no obvious teasing. “and honestly, i think you’ve been… i don’t know… teasing me. on purpose.”

you didn’t flinch, you just leaned slightly, so close now that he could feel your presence, the faint warmth radiating from you. “oh really?” you murmured, voice calm, but there was a sharp edge to it, a challenge. “and what makes you think that?”

jake had to stop himself from stepping even closer, from crossing the invisible line that both of you were dancing around. “it’s not subtle, you know?” he said, low. “you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“do you think so?” you whispered, almost a challenge.

he blinked, heart thumping, trying to keep it together. and then he took the plunge, voice rougher than he wanted, trying to gather the courage to ask about the thing he had in his head for weeks now. “the other day… i heard you. you were—” he paused to think, and then continued. “moaning. you knew i was home, didn’t you?”

you held his gaze, calm, unflinching. “yeah,” you said softly. 

“so you did it on purpose?” he asked, the words out before he could stop himself. the heat in his chest was thick now, almost painful.

you smirked just a little, teasing but controlled. “did it work?”

“yeah. it worked,” he admitted, voice low. “and it’s not just that. it’s driving me insane.”

you leaned a little closer. “is that supposed to be a warning or a compliment?”

he swallowed, voice tightening. “both,” he said, letting the words hang between you. “i can’t stop thinking about what i’d do if i could do something about it.”

your eyes darkened slightly, unafraid, curious. “and what would that be?”

he stepped closer, close enough that his chest nearly brushed yours, lowering his voice until it was barely above a whisper near your ear. he could feel the tiny shivers running down your neck, the goosebumps rising under his words, and it made his pulse spike in a way he didn’t fully understand. “i’d have you pressed against the counter, hands on your waist, keeping you still… telling you exactly what you’re doing to me. i’d hear you, feel you, watch you react. i’d make you feel like this, just like you make me feel.”

your head tilted slightly, lips parting, your voice dropping low, soft, whiny even, “and would i like that?”

jake’s heart thudded, heat crawling under his skin. he had no idea where this sudden, bold courage came from, why he was standing this close, whispering things he had only imagined a hundred times before. the sound of your voice so small, so caught in the edge between curiosity and teasing, made him feel both terrified and unstoppable at the same time. he was aware of the sharp intake of your breath, the way your body subtly responded to his nearness, and it sent a jolt straight through him, making him realize just how much he wanted you in ways he’d never let himself admit out loud before. “fuck yes,” he admitted, almost hoarse. “i’d hear every little sound you make and i wouldn’t stop until you couldn’t think about anything else.”

you breathed out softly, close enough that he could feel it on his neck. “then maybe i should do it again,” you said, voice low, teasing, confident.

he felt his chest tighten, and the edge of control slipping further. “yeah,” he whispered back, stepping just a fraction closer, the air between you thick. “but you better be ready… because i’m not holding back next time.”

the two of you stood there, close, quiet but tense, words hanging, neither moving away, both testing boundaries, the space between you a trap neither wanted to leave. you stepped back finally, just enough to put some space between you, giving him a chance to breathe again, and smirked just a little. “let’s see about that then,” you said, turning and walking back toward the crowd, letting the music swallow you up. jake watched you go, every step of yours making it harder for him to think straight. he could feel the tightness in his pants, painfully aware of it, and he knew with full clarity that he wouldn’t survive the rest of the party without losing control or wanting to drag you into a quiet corner somewhere.

he sighed and looked over at heeseung, who was laughing at some dumb conversation across the room. jake waved him over, trying to keep his voice casual, even though it wasn’t. “hey… i’m gonna head out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. 

heeseung raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “this early?”

he didn’t explain further, and heeseung didn’t press. it was easier that way. jake grabbed his jacket, feeling every second of the walk through the apartment buzzing in his pants, a reminder that nothing had changed, nothing had slowed down. he left the house, the noise of the party fading behind him, and the quiet of the night hitting him immediately. he had gone to the party to stop thinking about you, to get out of his own head, and now he was heading home to do the exact same thing, except this time there’d be no music, no distractions, no crowd, just him and the chaos of his thoughts, and the lingering, infuriating memory of you.

when he got home, jake just stood in the middle of the apartment for a second, staring at nothing, trying to make sense of the mess in his head. he couldn’t figure out what was going on, couldn’t tell if he was coming or going. was this really happening? did he actually just… say all of that to you? the words he’d let slip, the way he’d leaned in, the low whisper, the way you hadn’t flinched but had leaned in just enough to let him feel. that part of his brain that usually kept him grounded was completely gone.

every time he closed his eyes he could see you again, the way you’d looked at him, that quiet, teasing confidence that made him question everything he thought he knew about boundaries. he tried to rationalize it, telling himself he was insane, that he was overreacting, that this was all just a weird, freaked out moment. but no matter what he told himself, the tightness in his pants, the heat in his chest, the way his mind kept drifting back to what he’d whispered, reminded him that rationalization wasn’t even in the room. he flopped onto the couch, arms stretched over his head, staring at the ceiling, heart still racing. part of him wanted to laugh at how completely screwed he was, part of him wanted to throw something, and the rest just wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend none of this had ever happened. except he knew, with full certainty, that pretending wasn’t an option, not after tonight.

so jake had two options at this point: fuck you, or jack off. and obviously, he went with the second option, even though every nerve in his body was screaming for the first. the problem was, he couldn’t just do that. it wasn’t like you were some random girl he’d met at a party, or someone he could just call over without consequences. you were his roommate, the person he shared a space with every day, the one he had to see in the kitchen, on the couch, in the hallway. it was complicated, messy, and borderline ridiculous if he stopped to think about it, which he wasn’t.

so he did what he always did when he was desperate and desperate was now: he went to the bathroom, closed the door, and tried to focus on the one thing he could control. he leaned against the counter, hands moving on autopilot, mind filled with everything he couldn’t have and everything he wanted from you. he imagined every detail he’d memorized over the weeks, the way you moved, the way you sounded, the way you’d leaned in tonight, letting him whisper things he hadn’t even thought he’d have the courage to say out loud.

he kept telling himself this was a temporary solution, a coping mechanism, but the truth was, it was both comforting and torturous at the same time. each movement, each imagined response from you, was a reminder of what he was actually craving and why he couldn’t have it. not yet, maybe not ever. and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, spent and flushed, he didn’t even try to get more water or check his phone, he just crawled into bed, muscles still tense, thoughts still tangled, finally letting himself collapse completely, knowing he’d wake up with the same tangled mess of desire, confusion, and frustration waiting for him the next morning.

and it did, because when he woke up the next morning, you weren’t home. and that alone would have been enough to throw him off, but then he checked his email and saw a message from the housing office. they’d found an apartment for him to live by himself. right. he remembered now, vaguely, that when he’d moved in, they’d said he’d have to wait and live with you until they found him a spot. he had gotten so tangled up in this mess with you, so wrapped up in every look, every word, every single move, that he had completely forgotten that part.

did he want to move out? he didn’t know. he wasn’t sure about anything right now. all he knew was that he needed to get a grip, a real one, because the way he thought about you all the time wasn’t just distracting, it wasn’t even remotely sane. he felt like his brain had been hijacked, running in circles that always led back to you. even when he tried to picture anything else, any normal part of his life, it always got twisted into thoughts of you leaning over the counter, your voice low, your eyes catching his without warning. like he was living some sort of stockholm syndrome at this point. 

and the apartment being empty for the first time in weeks didn’t calm him down. it just made the absence of you even louder. he felt like he was teetering on the edge of losing control entirely, and the only thing he could do was take a deep breath and remind himself that he had to get a motherfucking grip, because otherwise, he was never going to survive another day in his own head without completely losing it over you. he wanted to text you, ask where the hell you’d been, but he knew he shouldn’t. he didn’t know what to do with the knot in his chest, didn’t want to say the wrong thing or make it worse. 

it was saturday, so he did what he did best (better than lying, better than hiding, better than making up excuses): he grabbed a joint. he didn’t even bother going to heeseung’s this time. he was just going to do the thing he always did on saturdays when you weren’t a part of his life; smoke a joint, watch some dumb tv show, and pretend his brain was a harmless ball of static for a few hours. that was the plan. just him, the couch, and the faint high that would let him stop thinking about you for a while.

and then, of course, you came back. he was mid-laugh at some ridiculous scene on tv when he heard the door open. he glanced up, half expecting it to be empty hands, bags, nothing of consequence. and then he saw you. same clothes as the night before, casual but somehow, it hit him harder than it should have. your eyes caught his the second you stepped in, and he froze, trying not to read too much into the fact that you’d obviously slept somewhere else.

you paused in the doorway for just a second, like you noticed him noticing, and for a fraction of a second, he thought about asking if you were okay, where you had been, but the words didn’t come. instead, all he could do was sit there, high and stiff in a way he didn’t want to admit, trying to pretend the joint was helping him relax while secretly his chest was tightening. the air between you was a quiet tension, and just that brief meeting of your eyes said more than either of you spoke. he couldn’t tell if it was curiosity, annoyance, or something else entirely, and part of him wanted to lean forward, ask questions, touch, do anything to break the quiet, while another part of him was just terrified of what he might do if he let that part win.

“hey,” you said, closing the door behind you. the sound made him shift slightly, awareness snapping back to the room.

“hey,” he said back, voice low, leaning back on the couch with his arms behind his head, legs spread out in a way that screamed casual but didn’t fool anyone, especially not him. he was staring at you, trying to look effortless, but every part of him was alert, tracking you. “you didn’t sleep home last night,” he added, tone flat, pretending it was nothing.

you let out a small laugh, a sound that made him tense a little despite himself. “yeah, i thought i was going back home with you, but you disappeared.” his eyes went wide. he opened his mouth to say something, probably a defensive excuse, but before he could get any words out, you added, pulling at the hem of your dress like it was too short, “don’t worry though, i slept at yunjin’s. all of my stuff was there as well, so…”

he tried not to notice your bare thighs as you adjusted the dress, but it was impossible. his brain, already foggy from the joint earlier, immediately betrayed him. focus, jake, he told himself. just focus. he hummed something that might have sounded like okay, though he doubted you heard, and tried to put the thought of how you looked out of his head.

“i’m gonna take a shower,” you said, starting toward your bedroom. the movement was casual, natural, but it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t control. he watched you walk away, the sound of your footsteps fading, and just sat there, legs still spread, pretending the weed made him calm while in reality he was more worked up than he’d been in days. his thoughts were messy. he replayed last night, your eyes meeting his, the way you hadn’t flinched, hadn’t pulled away. the way your voice had carried a teasing edge, subtle but enough to make him question everything about his self control. he exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself, aware that the second you stepped out of sight, every rational thought was already collapsing. he was stuck in that limbo between wanting to reach for you and knowing he shouldn’t, between craving more of the teasing he hadn’t even fully understood and trying to convince himself he was fine. 

after a while that felt like hours, you stepped out of your bedroom, hair still damp, a big t-shirt hanging over your shoulders, and the tiniest shorts barely peeking out underneath it. jake tried to slow his breathing, pretending he wasn’t looking at you, though every instinct in his body was screaming otherwise. you moved toward the kitchen to do whatever you were doing, the casual way you carried yourself making him even more aware of every inch of you. he muttered from the living room, more to fill the silence than to communicate anything real. “i got an email from the housing office today,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“yeah?” you murmured back, barely glancing in his direction. “what did it say?” he asked, exhaling slowly before answering himself, like the words carried weight he wasn’t ready to face.

“they said they’ve found me a new place if i still wanted to move,” he finally said, voice quiet, almost like saying it out loud made it more real.

you walked back toward the living room, stopping a few feet from him, your eyes locking onto his. at this point, jake knew you, he knew your style of responses, knew it would probably be “ok,” or “cool,” or maybe just “let me know if you do.” that was your thing, leaving people guessing. but now, the look in your eyes was different, a little sharper, a little more present. “do you want to?” you asked, soft, but it cut through the space between you.

jake’s chest tightened. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to avoid reading too much into the moment, trying not to let himself drift the way he always did when you were near. “i don’t know… do you want me to move out?” he replied, careful.

“you can’t answer a question with another question,” you shot back, eyes not leaving his. the tension between you was tangible now.

“i don’t know, that is my answer,” he said, voice low, trying to keep casual but failing. he could feel the weight of you standing there, the subtle shift in your stance as if you were reading him, waiting for him to crack, to slip, to give away what he really wanted. and even as he said it, trying to make it sound harmless, he felt himself unravel a little, conscious of the heat creeping up, aware that he wasn’t just thinking about moving out anymore. he was thinking about you, the way you always had this effect on him, the way being near you could make him lose control while pretending he wasn’t already lost.

“i thought you did,” you moved slowly toward the couch where jake was sitting, the way you walked catching his attention immediately. his legs were still spread, casual, confident, and he was leaning back, joint in hand. when he exhaled, he set the joint aside and looked up at you, eyes locked, smirk playing on his lips like he was trying to make a joke out of something far from funny.

“yeah, you see… look what you’ve done to me,” he said, tone serious, but that smirk betrayed the chaos beneath it.

“what do you mean?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, innocent, but there was an edge to your voice that made him pause.

“you know what i mean,” he replied, voice lower now. his gaze was steady, unapologetic, like he was daring you to test him. you stayed there, barely moving, just watching him. jake’s eyes were fixed on yours, smirk fading into something heavier, more serious, like he was holding back a lot of things at once. 

and at this point, jake didn’t know that you were confused inside too. he had no idea that every time he did something small, like leaning over to grab something from the fridge, brushing past you in the kitchen, or even just looking at you too long when you were on the couch, he was setting off this whole chain reaction inside you. honestly, it freaked you out. sometimes you caught yourself staring when you didn’t mean to, or laughing at something that wasn’t funny just because he said it, and then you’d have to stop yourself, walk away, act cold, shut down a little, just to keep yourself from completely losing it. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him, it wasn’t even just that he was attractive (he was annoyingly so), it was more like your body and your brain were completely misbehaving around him. that tension had been building, quietly, for months, and it made it hard for you to just be casual, to just be normal. 

and now here he was, looking at you like this, voice serious, his eyes holding something you weren’t fully ready to confront. and part of you wanted to melt into him, wanted to say something, anything, that would admit everything, but another part of you freaked out. it was exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. it made you feel alive and ridiculous all at once. and jake had no idea that the reason you sometimes seemed distant or cold was because of this exact thing. not because you didn’t like him, not because you weren’t curious, not because you were bored or uninterested, it was because every time he was around, the tension inside you was so intense that you had to protect yourself from completely losing control. sometimes you’d lock yourself in your room just to stop your mind from spiraling, sometimes you’d act indifferent in front of him, because you couldn’t handle the way your own body reacted. it wasn’t just teasing him, it was trying to survive yourself.

and now, standing there, barely moving, just watching him, feeling the weight of him, you realized exactly how messed up and complicated everything between you had gotten. your instincts screamed at you to do something, but instead, you shut down again. you turned, walked to the kitchen, moving like you’d done a hundred times before. jake’s eyes widened the moment he saw you retreat. he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t going to let this go without pressing, without getting something out of you, anything. so he followed, until you reached the counter, your hands splayed flat against it, looking down like you were trying to disappear. he stopped just behind you, close enough that you could feel him, close enough that your spine stiffened.

“are you gonna still pretend nothing is going on at all?” he asked, voice low and calm. the words hit somewhere inside you, and you felt it immediately, shivering slightly, even though he wasn’t touching you. you didn’t move, didn’t answer, just let the tension hang for a moment. he waited, letting the pause stretch, then asked again. “or are we going to talk things through?”

you tried to speak, voice small and hesitant. “i… i don’t know what you want me to say,” you whispered, and the act of saying it made your chest tighten even more. he shifted closer, and every fraction of an inch made your body react. your muscles tensed without permission, your mind spun with what you should do, what you could say, what you weren’t allowed to admit.

“you don’t have anything to say?” he asked, a little firmer this time, not moving away, letting you feel the presence of him looming just behind. his shadow fell over you without him touching, and you could feel the heat of him, the quiet authority in the way he stood. his body was fully towering behind yours now, your breath catching when you realized just how close he was.

you exhaled, low and shaky. “i… i don’t know,” you whispered again, words barely audible, but enough that he caught them. and even in that tiny confession, there was weight.

“funny, you were pretty bold last night,” he said, leaning in even closer. you couldn’t see it, but you knew he was grinning, could feel it in the weight of him behind you. his breath brushed the back of your neck and made your skin tighten. “why are you acting so shy now?” he asked again, and even though he hadn’t touched you yet, your body reacted like he already had. you were aware of every movement he made, the closeness, the subtle press of his torso behind you.

“i’m not shy,” you whispered, your voice just audible, betraying none of the heat building inside.

“no?” he said, tone sharper now, leaning closer without really moving, letting the space between you shrink even more. “then why don’t you tell me what you want, mhm?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

his body was fully behind you now, pressing into your back in a way that made your muscles tense automatically. his presence alone was enough to make your skin react, goosebumps rising along your arms and down your spine. you arched your back slightly without thinking, just from the sound of his voice, and his body was fully behind you now, and you could feel him, hard, obvious against your ass, and it made your chest tighten. he shifted slightly, pressing more insistently, and the bulge in his pants rubbed against you in a way that made your thighs clench without thinking. a low, rough fuck escaped him, almost a growl, and it twisted your stomach, made your core tighten in response.

“see,” he murmured, his mouth near your ear now, “this is what you do to me.” his hand brushed the counter near yours, fingers curling into the edge. then he pressed a little closer,  his body pushing into yours in a way that made you shift automatically. you felt the weight, the pressure of him against your back, the bulge pressing hard against your ass. your head tilted back slightly without thinking, and a small, strained whimper slipped out before you could stop it. “mhm? are you gonna tell me what you want now?” he asked, his voice steady in your ear. the sound, the proximity, the way he was so close, made your brain scramble.

“jake…” you whispered, voice trembling a little as your restraint started to slip.

“yeah?” he replied.

“what are you gonna do?” you asked.

he chuckled softly, leaning just a fraction closer so the tip of his nose brushed your hair. “oh, y/n, you can’t answer a question with another question,” he said, smirking, repeating the exact words you’d used on him earlier. there was a pause, just a beat, as he let the weight of it settle, his body still pressing against yours, still holding back more than he wanted to.

"i want you to do something..." you confessed, your voice almost breaking, low but desperate enough that he leaned closer to hear.

"like what?" he pushed, his tone steady but he moved his hands away from the counter to your hips, the grip on your hips wasn’t steady, holding you not so gently, fingers digging in just enough to keep you against him. you could feel how hard he was, the press of his bulge against you, and before you even realized, your hips started to move, unintentional, but enough to drag against him. his breath caught, almost a groan, and then he pulled you in tighter. "come on," he said, voice rougher this time, "tell me."

"anything, jake, please," you whispered, tilting your head back until the back of your head rested on his chest. you could feel how fast his heart was beating, his breath uneven above you.

his hands moved then, sliding slowly from your hips up to your stomach, hovering lower with each inch, testing how far he could go before you stopped him. your body reacted before you could think, leaning into his touch, chasing it. "tell me," he repeated, his lips brushing so close to your ear now that you shivered, "i need you to say it."

"fuck," you muttered, unable to form more than that, your voice messy with how badly you wanted it.

he chuckled against your skin at your reaction, low and knowing. "that all you got?"

you shook your head quickly, the restraint slipping out of you in pieces. "touch me already, jake, please."

this time, he didn’t hold back the groan that left him, deep and frustrated. "fuck… yeah, okay," he breathed, nodding slightly against your temple like he was finally giving in. his hands moved lower, deliberately slow, teasing you with every drag of his fingertips against your skin. one palm spread across your stomach, keeping you pressed to him, the other inching down, tracing the edge of your waistband like he wanted you to break first.

he let his fingers linger at the hem of your shorts, brushing just beneath the waistband, making you twitch. the other hand was already under your shirt, sliding up your stomach. when his palm reached higher, his thumb skimmed over your breasts until he realized. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing a little harder, “you’re not even wearing a bra.” his voice carried a mix of surprise and satisfaction. “you wanted this, didn’t you?” he pushed, hand cupping your breast now, thumb dragging across your nipple slowly, making you whimper. you didn’t answer right away, but your breath told on you. he chuckled softly, enjoying the way you melted back against him.

“go on, tell me,” he pressed, his mouth right by your ear, “where do you want me to touch you, princess?” the name slipped out of him almost too naturally, and it made you shiver. the word clung to your skin, had your knees weakening, and he knew it.

“you know where, jake,” you whispered, voice breaking slightly, “please.”

his free hand slid down, inside your shorts now, the edge of your underwear dragging under his knuckles as he explored lower. he hummed against your ear, satisfied with how easy you gave in to him. “so needy,” he murmured, “tell me… what were you thinking about when you touched yourself for me, mhm?” his fingers flexed lower, pressing just enough to make your breath catch. you froze, shame and arousal mixing fast. “that day,” he kept going, relentless, “when you wanted me to hear you. what did you imagine, baby?”

his question left you dizzy, your head tilting back harder into his chest, your mouth opening but no sound coming out. his hand stilled, deliberately waiting. he wanted you to say it, to give him exactly what he asked for, and you knew he wouldn’t move until you did. “jake…” you muttered, your voice wrecked, your body already giving itself away even without the words.

“yeah?” he prompted, mouth brushing your ear, “don’t go shy on me now. tell me what you thought about.”

you swallowed hard, chest heaving against his hand, every nerve in your body screaming at you to give him what he wanted. his fingers were right there, waiting, unmoving, teasing you with the weight of his patience. “i was…” your voice cracked, almost a whimper, and he squeezed your breast harder, forcing you to spit it out. “i was imagining you touching me. like this.”

he hummed low in his throat, a cruel little sound that vibrated against your ear. “yeah? go on.” his hand slid lower, pressing down, reminding you where he could take this.

your thighs squeezed around his hand but you forced yourself to keep speaking. “i imagined… you putting your fingers inside me.”

he let out a quiet laugh, smug, hot against your skin. “fuck, that’s what you were thinking about? me—fucking you with my fingers while you moaned loud enough to let me know? you wanted me to hear, didn’t you?”

“jake—” your protest melted into a whimper when his fingers finally moved. he propped them under the thin fabric of your underwear, dragging slow circles right where you ached for him.

“so wet,” he muttered, almost in disbelief, “all this because of me? jesus, baby.” he didn’t even rush, dragging his fingers in lazy motions, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to drive you insane before giving you more. “this is what you were thinking about that day, huh?” he pressed, his voice sharp now, almost mocking. “lying there, knowing i was listening, spreading your legs and wishing it was me?”

your mouth fell open, a broken sound leaving your throat as he slipped two fingers between your folds. “fuck—” he hissed when he felt how you clenched around nothing, desperate. “you’re so ready for me. you don’t even need to be prepped, do you? just begging to be filled.” his fingers finally pushed inside, slow, deep, curling just right. you gasped, nails digging into his arm, and he groaned softly, enjoying how you reacted to every move.

“that’s it,” he whispered against your ear, thrusting his fingers in a steady rhythm, “take it. that’s what you wanted, right? me finger fucking you till you can’t even think straight?” your head fell back, a whimper catching in your throat, but he didn’t let up. “go on,” he ordered, curling his fingers again, dragging a broken moan out of you. “say that’s what you wanted me to do to you.”

“yes—” you breathed, desperate, “yes, jake, i need you.”

his smirk pressed into your skin, his pace picking up just a little. “good girl. finally telling me the truth.” every word out of his mouth was filth and command, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “you’re dripping all over my hand, baby. you hear that? fuck—” he drove his fingers deeper, curling hard, his palm grinding against your clit. “look at you,” he whispered, low and rough, “squirming for me. needy little thing.” your body trembled, your words dissolving into broken gasps, and he laughed again, cruel and soft. “don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you exactly what you were begging for.”

he started to move rougher, his fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm that kept building faster, deeper, harder. the way he pressed into you from behind, his hips flush to your ass so you could feel every bit of his hardness grinding against you, made your whole body tense. your back arched without thinking, desperate to take more, and your arms lifted, searching for something to grab onto, finally tangling in his hair, pulling at the back of his head just to ground yourself. he groaned at the tug, but didn’t slow down, curling his fingers inside you just right, the wet sounds between you filling the kitchen.

your moans grew louder, shameless, every sound spilling out only making him worse. “you make the prettiest sounds.” his lips brushed your jaw, his breath hot as his pace turned merciless, his fingers pumping into you with no pause, no relief. “fuck, look at you,” he said, grinding harder into your back while fucking you with his hand. 

you whimpered his name, and he chuckled darkly, his mouth right at your ear. “who would’ve thought, hm? sweet little you, letting me finger you like this.” your body jolted when he curled his fingers deeper, and your grip on his hair tightened, head falling back onto his shoulder. “yeah, that’s it,” he whispered, teeth grazing your skin. “you like that? you like when i fuck you like this?”

you moaned and nodded, and the thought hit you hard: jake was nothing like you expected. way filthier, rougher, better than anything you ever pictured, and it only turned you on more, made you want to give him everything. “fuck, i knew you’d be this good,” he growled, fingers moving even faster, slick and deep. “shit, y/n, you’re perfect.” his pace grew ruthless, relentless, every push making your body jolt against the counter. you could feel your limit building, pressure winding tighter and tighter in your stomach until it was almost unbearable. “do you want to cum for me?” he rasped against your ear, breath hot on your skin. you couldn’t form words, just a broken moan leaving your lips. “say it, baby, or i’ll stop.” his tone dropped, sharp, commanding, even as his fingers kept pounding into you, and your whole body burned at the thought of him actually pulling away.

“fuck—yeah, jake,” you gasped, your voice cracking. “please, let me cum.”

he chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your shoulder as his lips brushed your skin. “aw, such a good girl,” he cooed, his voice dripping with filth. “asking for permission like that.” his pace didn’t slow, if anything, it grew harsher, fingers sliding in and out of you so fast the sound of your wetness filled the room, obscene and loud. his free hand gripped your waist, holding you right where he wanted you as he fucked you with his hand, grinding his cock into your ass with every thrust. “come on,” he urged, his voice rough. “cum on my fingers, baby, give it all to me.”

you cried out his name, trembling, your whole body arching against him. “fuck, your pussy’s clenching around my fingers, baby,” he groaned, his head dropping back for a second, overcome with how tight you felt. “so fucking tight—so desperate for me.”

the way he talked to you, the filth in his voice, the pressure of his cock grinding against you, it all crashed down at once, your body shuddering as you came undone on his hand. it was loud, messy, overwhelming, the kind of orgasm that left you gripping his hair like you might collapse if you let go. jake moaned with you, his fingers still moving deep inside to drag out every last wave. “fuck, that’s it,” he muttered, lips pressed to your neck. “fuck, i could do this to you forever.”

your body trembled against him, still clenching around his fingers, your moans breaking into soft whimpers as he finally slowed, dragging his soaked fingers out of you with a filthy sound. he hummed, bringing them up to his lips just to taste you, his tongue sliding slow over his knuckles before he smirked against your ear. “you taste even better than i imagined.”

he spun you around so fast you gasped, his grip on your hips rough, possessive, like he couldn’t stand another second of not having you face him. your back hit the counter and you stumbled, breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched, his pupils blown so wide it was like he’d lost all sense of restraint. you were flushed, trembling, your ruined underwear sticking uncomfortably between your thighs, but the only thing you could think about was him towering over you, the outline of his cock straining against his pants, pressing against your hip like it was begging for you.

“fuck, look at you,” he whispered, forehead brushing yours as his lips trailed hot kisses along your cheek, down your jaw, to the corner of your mouth, teasing, just out of reach. “ruined, all for me.” his voice broke on the last word, ragged with hunger. “please…” his voice cracked, and for a second you thought you were imagining the desperation in him. but then he said it again, firmer this time, his breath ghosting over your lips. “please, let me kiss you.”

your head tipped back a little, chest rising and falling in erratic waves, and his hand slid up your side to cup your neck, thumb dragging under your jaw. he was trembling, but not from hesitation, from restraint. “you don’t get it,” he muttered, almost like he was confessing something against his will. “you’ve got me fucking obsessed.” his nose brushed yours, lips still barely touching, his words vibrating against your mouth. “come on, please” he demanded, his grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you shiver. “say you want me to ruin you.”

you couldn’t even form the words, too breathless, too lost in the heat of him. but you nodded, desperate, clutching his shirt like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. he groaned, finally smashing his lips against yours, messy, hungry, teeth clashing, tongues desperate. it wasn’t gentle, it was need. pure, raw, suffocating need. his hand dragged back down, pawing at your waist, your hip, like he couldn’t decide where to touch first. he was everywhere, kissing you like a man starved, whispering against your lips between frantic breaths, “my girl. my perfect fucking girl.”

his arms tightened around you, hands firm on the curve of your thighs as he pulled you up with ease, making you gasp when your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. you could feel how strong he was, the way his grip claimed you, as if he’d never let go. his mouth didn’t leave yours, lips bruising, tongue sliding hot and desperate against yours while his chest vibrated with a low groan. by the time he settled onto the couch, dragging you down onto his lap, your pulse was a mess. your body fit perfectly against him, straddling his hips, every shift pressing you harder onto the thick bulge straining through his pants. you whined into his mouth, the friction intoxicating, every grind pulling a deeper sound from his chest.

“fuck,” he hissed, breaking the kiss just long enough to press his forehead against yours, breathing ragged. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still even as you tried to roll down on him again. “don’t do that. i can’t—” his words broke off into a groan, eyes fluttering shut as your heat pressed against him through the fabric.

you tilted your head, lips brushing his jaw as you whispered, smug and breathless, “can’t what?” and then you rocked against him again, slower this time, deliberately teasing, watching his composure crack.

his eyes snapped open, dark and wrecked, a strained chuckle escaping him. “you think you’re funny?” his grip tightened, pulling your body flush against his, making you feel every inch of his arousal grinding back up into you.

you only grinned, licking your lips, whispering like a dare, “maybe.”

his answer came as a guttural sound in his chest, one hand flying up into your hair, tugging your head back just enough to expose your throat as he kissed it hard. “keep testing me, baby,” your breath hitched as his hand tangled tighter in your hair, guiding you down between his spread legs. his eyes burned into you, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling with ragged hunger. he looked feral, undone, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sight of him like this, so desperate, but still in control, every move deliberate. “on your knees,” he rasped, voice dripping authority. “show me how good you can be.”

the tone made your stomach flip, heat rushing through your body. you sank down slowly, your knees pressing into the carpet, never breaking eye contact. his grip on your hair loosened just enough for him to cup your cheek with his other hand, thumb stroking across your swollen bottom lip. “fuck, look at you,” he groaned, leaning forward just enough to press another bruising kiss against your lips before pulling back. “my pretty girl, already wrecked for me. and i haven’t even fucked you yet.” his words made you whimper, thighs pressing together instinctively. he noticed, of course, chuckling low in his chest, the sound dark and mocking. “needy little thing. you’d do anything i tell you, wouldn’t you?” he asked, tilting your chin up with his thumb.

“yes,” you breathed, without hesitation. “anything.”

“good girl,” he smirked, his thumb pressing against your lips, slipping just enough inside for you to suck. you did, obediently, hollowing your cheeks around him, watching the way his head tipped back with a guttural moan. “shit, you’re gonna ruin me.” he let you go just as quickly, his hand moving to unbuckle his belt. the metallic clink filled the room, sharp, electric, making your pulse race. you licked your lips as he tugged his zipper down, freeing himself, his cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. he was so hard it almost hurt to look at, and you felt your mouth water instantly.

“is this what you wanted, hm?” he rasped, shoving his boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free, flushed and heavy in his hand. he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on yours. “you grind on me like a desperate little slut, and now look at you—on your knees for it. go on, baby. show me how bad you need it.”

you didn’t hesitate. your lips parted as you leaned in, tongue dragging up from his base in a long, slow lick that had his jaw clenching. his hand shot into your hair, tightening until it stung, forcing your head down so his cock slid between your lips, thick and aching. “fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking forward despite himself, the sound almost breaking into a laugh at how quickly he lost control. “that’s it. open wide. choke on it, just keep those pretty eyes on me while you do.”

you hummed around him, and the vibrations made his thighs flex under your hands, his breath catching in a sharp curse. his head tipped back for a moment, chest heaving, but then he forced his gaze down again, eyes dark and wild as they burned into you. “jesus fuck,” he groaned, hips rolling steady into your mouth now, using your lips, your throat. he tugged harshly at your hair, pulling you off him with a wet pop. strings of spit clung from your swollen lips to his tip, and he wiped at your chin with his thumb, only to push it past your lips and into your mouth. “that’s it, suck it,” he ordered, voice rough, thumb pressing down on your tongue while his cock throbbed inches from your face. “you’re so fucking messy for me. you like this, huh? like being my filthy girl?”

“yes, jake, god,” you admitted, your lips wrapped around his thumb, tongue swirling around it like you were starving for him.

“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, fist tightening in your hair as his other hand guided his cock back to your mouth. “open up, baby. take it all.” he pushed deep, his length sliding against your throat until you gagged around him, his groan breaking out into something almost animalistic. “look at you choking on it… messy little slut. you were made for this cock, weren’t you? fuck—yeah, you were. my perfect fucktoy.”

your eyes watered, drool spilling down your chin, and he hissed, hips jerking forward. “god, i could cum just from this… but i need to ruin you first.” with a sharp tug, he pulled you off him again, breath ragged, his cock slick and twitching in his hand. he yanked you up like you weighed nothing. “turn around,” he ordered, voice low and wrecked.

you barely had time to obey before he hooked his fingers into your shorts, dragging them down along with your ruined underwear. the air hit your wetness and he groaned, a filthy, guttural sound. his hand spanked your ass, the sting making you gasp. he leaned in, pressing a teasing, sharp toothed kiss against your ass cheek, his nose brushing dangerously close between them, inhaling like he was drunk on your scent. “fuck, i need that ass,” he muttered against your skin, voice breaking with hunger. his tongue darted out, barely grazing you before he pulled back, spinning you to face him again, eyes black with lust.

“you have no idea what i’m about to do to you, baby.” he didn’t give you a second to settle while you sat on his lap again. he took your shirt off, and his mouth latched onto your nipple with a greedy, wet pressure, sucking and nibbling in a way that made your chest tighten and your hips press down harder against him. every movement, every grind you made sent a low groan vibrating from his chest, his hands holding your hips so firmly you felt every pulse of his desire. you moaned around his mouth, letting your body do the talking, grinding your core down even more deliberately, feeling him react against you. his free hand moved to spank your ass again, rough, making you jump against him. “behave,” he warned, voice low and jagged, “i’ll fuck you when i want to, got it?”

you nodded, breathless, and let your head fall back, exposing your neck and chest to him as he trailed messy kisses down from your collarbone to the swell of your breasts, alternating pressure, teasing, making you writhe in his lap. his hands kneaded, pinched, gripped, every touch driving you wilder, and with every slick, deliberate movement of your hips on his cock, he groaned, muttering your name over and over. “please, jake, i need you to fuck me,” you finally said, voice trembling with urgency. 

he chuckled, low and rough. “oh god, you have no idea how much i wanted to hear that,” he admitted, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as his cock pressed against you, teasing your clit, just enough to make your stomach twist and your thighs shake. “fuck, let me grab a condom,” he said, already starting to move, before you paused him.

“no,” you said quickly, pulling him back just a little. “i want it raw, i’m on birth control.”

he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made you shiver. “fuck… that is so hot,” he muttered, pressing himself against you harder, teasing the entrance slowly, deliberately, as if testing how much more he could make you beg before actually moving. he didn’t waste a second. his hands gripped your hips tighter, tilting you just right, teasing the tip of himself against your slick, already aching center. “you’re so dirty, i had no idea,” he groaned, low and rough, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “all that quiet, all that acting like you don’t care… was that all just a fucking act, huh?”

you gasped, tilting your head, feeling the hot pressure as he pressed in a little further, testing, stretching, making you shiver. “tell me,” he whispered, voice thick with need, “are you gonna be my fucking dirty slut now? gonna let me fuck you raw, make you mine?”

you nodded frantically, voice barely a whisper. “yes… please, jake, fuck me.”

“oh god, yes, fuck, i will” he groaned, slowly pushing inside, inch by inch, letting you adjust, letting you feel every stretch. the heat, the tightness, the slick press of him against you, it stole your breath. your forehead rested against his, breathing shaky, heart hammering, every nerve screaming with sensation.

“i… i can’t,” you whispered, voice shaky. “it’s too big jake,” and he groaned softly, holding you steady, letting you adjust to him.

“fuck, don’t say that,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “you can take it, baby. i know you can.” he shifted slightly, testing the space between you. you gasped, his cock pressed into you, hands gripping your hips, tilting you just right, rolling inside you with perfect precision. your breath hitched, heart racing, every nerve on edge as he stayed close, his cock inside you, his hands steadying your hips, his lips brushing the side of your neck. the tension was unbearable, every touch and shift making it impossible to think straight. “just… breathe,” he whispered, voice tight with need. “i’m right here, baby. i’ll go slow, okay?”

you nodded against him, trying to calm your racing thoughts while your body betrayed you, reacting to every little movement. he groaned low, hips shifting ever so slightly, testing, stretching, making your body writhe instinctively against him. “fuck—you feel so good,” he muttered, voice rough and urgent. “so tight, so wet… just for me.”

you let your hips move against him, grinding, matching his rhythm. “yes… jake… i’m yours,” you murmured, chest rising and falling, breath shaky, body pressed to his.

“yeah you are, aren’t you?” he groaned, a low, desperate sound, sliding his hands from your hips to grip your thighs, holding you steady as he began slow, deliberate thrusts. each one drove pleasure straight through you, a perfect, torturous rhythm. his lips brushed your jaw, neck, whispering filthy praise. “fuck… look at you… trembling all over for me… you’re mine, all mine, my perfect little slut.”

you moaned loudly, arching into him, hands tangling in his hair, body pressed flush against his chest. “jake— don’t stop… please…”

“fuck, don’t tell me to stop, baby,” he growled, shifting your hips with his hands, pressing harder, deeper. “you like this, huh?”

“yes… yes, please,” you gasped, voice breaking as each thrust had you teetering on the edge. your body shivered with anticipation, wet and slick, ready to snap, riding him more deliberate now.

he growled against your neck, teeth grazing your skin lightly, his thrusts relentless but perfectly measured, reading your reactions. “fuck, keep riding me, i’m gonna cum for you, keep going.” you arched back into him, breath coming in ragged gasps, hands clutching his shoulders as your thighs tightened around his waist. each roll of your hips sent his cock deeper, stretching you perfectly, and he groaned low in response, hands gripping your hips.

“you’re so fucking tight, baby…” he chuckled darkly, low and throaty, the sound vibrating straight through you. “i’m gonna fuckling blow a load inside you, keep fucking riding me, oh shit—” he bit lightly at your shoulder as he thrust faster, deeper, every motion precise, worshiping you with his touch. you lost it then, shuddering violently, voice breaking in a scream of his name, body convulsing around him, clutching him close as your release crashed over you in waves. he groaned, holding you, still thrusting, savoring every twitch, every cry, every gasp.

“oh shit, you came so good,” he murmured against your ear, hips still rolling, each movement carefully prolonging the exquisite overstimulation. “let me cum inside this fucking little pussy, please—”

you gasped, arching into him, voice trembling. “yes, god… please, jake… fill me…”

and then he did, groaning your name, every muscle taut as his release filled you, hot and overwhelming. he held you through it, rocking gently, letting you feel every drop, whispering filthy, desperate praise. “fuuuuck, what a good fucking pussy,” he muttered, still buried in you, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours. his hands never left your hips, keeping you flush against him as he slowly rode out the tremors of his own orgasm, groaning your name again and again. your vision blurred, your chest rising and falling, trembling against him, as he guided you through the aftermath. 

you clung to him, breathless and trembling, heart racing, he was still holding you close. “so fucking good…” he whispered one last time, lips brushing yours, still warm and soaked from the intensity of what just happened.

you’re still on him, chest pressed against his, both of you breathing like you ran a marathon. he’s sitting back a little now, hands lazily resting on your hips, still gripping just enough to remind you he’s there. you glance up at him, and he’s got that smirk, the one that’s supposed to be cocky but honestly, he looks wrecked too.

“so,” he says, voice low, teasing but tired, “that happened.”

“yeah,” you mutter, trying to catch your breath and failing spectacularly. “that happened.”

jake lets out a low chuckle and runs a hand through his hair. you bury your face in his chest, trying to hide, like somehow hiding there could make everything feel less intense. he tuts softly, holding you a little closer. “mhm, no. look at me,” he says, his tone firm but gentle. you lift your head reluctantly, cheeks still flushed. “no more hiding, okay?” he adds, and you nod, biting your lip, still feeling the heat and the leftover tension buzzing through your body. “you okay?” he asks, eyes scanning your face. 

you give a small, whiny “yeah,” nodding, and he chuckles lightly at the sound.

“did you… like it?” he asked next, and you notice the way he paused, the tiniest flicker of nervousness in his expression. he knew that was a cheesy, sure, post-sex ask, but he had to know. 

you smirk and giggle, letting yourself relax a little. “yeah, jake. i liked it.”

he exhales slowly, groaning as he slides back, freeing himself from your walls, and you can’t help but look at him, already missing how filled you were a minute ago. he’s wrecked, flushed, hair messy, and it makes you grin. “what you looking at?” he asks, smirk playing on his lips.

“nothing,” you reply, trying to play it cool, though your grin gives you away.

he leans in and presses a quick, small kiss to your lips, catching you off guard. you freeze for a second, then melt just a little into the moment. “so… wanna talk about it?” he asks, tilting his head, still holding you close. you blink at him, caught somewhere between embarrassed and amused, realizing that maybe the talking part is the part you’re not entirely ready for, but also, maybe, you don’t want to run from it this time. he squeezes your hip gently, as if prompting you to answer without forcing it. you take a deep breath, letting some of the tension slip away.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you asked, and he chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking him this. 

“you can’t answer a question with another question,” he said again voice low, amused but tired at the same time.

you laughed awkwardly, your nerves showing. “i just… i don’t know, jake,” you admitted, voice unsure, looking down for a second before meeting his eyes again.

“don’t know what?” he pressed, leaning in, making the space between you feel smaller.

“i don’t know how you feel about me,” you said, letting out a small breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. “so… i just can’t figure out exactly what i’m supposed to do with all of this.”

he blinked once, then laughed low, and it wasn’t like a normal laugh, more like he was trying to process what you just said and couldn’t decide if it was ridiculous, frustrating, or the most fascinating thing he’d heard all week. you watched him run a hand over his face, shaking his head slowly, the kind of shake that made it clear he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed, scared, or both. “okay…,” he muttered finally, half to himself, half to you, voice calm. “but i get it. i think i do.” he paused, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he was enjoying that he had your full attention. “so… you want me to spell it out for you? really tell you what i feel?”

you hesitated, just a little, because you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear it, or if you were ready to admit you’d been hoping for it. you nodded anyway, slowly, watching his face, waiting. he leaned back a bit in his seat, just enough to look at you properly, like he was gathering his thoughts in real time, and you could tell he was about to unload.

“i’ve been crazy about you since the very beginning,” he said, voice a little rough, but completely honest. “back when you didn’t give me a single thing to go on, and i had no idea what you were thinking, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. i was obsessed with figuring you out, learning what made you tick. and the more i got to know you, the more fascinated i became. you’re… you’re insane, in the best way. every little thing about you made me want to know more.”

he paused, swallowing, like he was trying to get the words out without tripping over them. “then, when you started teasing me… when you started pushing and pulling, letting me get close but not giving me everything, i lost it. i thought about you all the time. every day. you, your voice, your smile, the way you look at me… i probably shouldn’t be saying this, but fuck it. i can’t stop thinking about it, and about you. and now, after… that,” he gestured vaguely at the mess of the room and the two of you, “i have no regrets. that was the best sex of my life, no contest.”

you let out a breathless laugh, and he chuckled, shaking his head slightly, like he still couldn’t believe he was admitting all of this. “so yeah… i’m fucked up about you. completely. and i don’t even care.”

you blinked, caught somewhere between stunned, amused, and something else you didn’t have a name for yet. you didn’t know if you should laugh, tease him back, or just sit there and take it all in. but seeing him like this, messy, honest, a little wrecked from what just happened, made it impossible to be anything but completely present with him. jake leaned back a little, still holding you, letting the confession hang in the air. “so… what about you?” he asked, voice quieter now, curious but still casual, like he was afraid of scaring you off but couldn’t not ask. “how do you feel about all this?”

you hesitated again, trying to pull words together, but they kept slipping away. “i’m not good at this,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. “i’m not good at saying things out loud. but you… you get under my skin the same way i get under yours. i don’t know how to say it prettier than that, but it’s real.” you paused, looking at him, almost daring him to make you keep going. he didn’t. instead, he smiled, small but satisfied.

“good,” he said simply.

you blinked, then nodded. “good.”

nothing poetic, nothing rehearsed, just enough for both of you. he kissed you once, soft and short, then got up and tugged you along with him, muttering something about you needing a shower. you were too tired to argue, and honestly, he was right. the two of you had made a mess of the place, and of yourselves. he turned the water on and stepped in first, pulling you by the wrist like he was making sure you wouldn’t back out. it wasn’t some movie scene with steam and passion and soap slipping everywhere. it was domestic, borderline clumsy. he tried to hand you the shampoo bottle with too much force and almost dropped it, then squinted because he’d gotten water in his eyes. you laughed at him, and he pretended to be offended, but he didn’t actually care. he just liked that you were laughing.

you weren’t used to standing this close without tension thick in the air, without second-guessing what the other was thinking. now you were just there, getting clean together, and it felt strangely natural. it felt like the most normal thing in the world, like maybe this was how it was supposed to be all along. by the time you both stepped out and wrapped up in towels, the room smelled like cheap body wash, and the mirror was fogged over. jake glanced at you, hair dripping, and smirked like the whole situation was funny but also a little serious, like he couldn’t believe how quickly things had shifted between you. you didn’t say anything, and you didn’t need to. it was good, just good.

so the next couple of weeks were kind of ridiculous, mostly because you both pretended for about two days that things were the same, and then it became really obvious they weren’t. jake had this new way of looking at you that you kept catching in random moments, like when you were pouring cereal or folding laundry, and it wasn’t subtle at all. he was completely gone for you, and you could tell, but he didn’t even bother trying to hide it.

the first time after that night it happened again, it wasn’t planned. you’d just finished watching something dumb on tv, and he made some joke that had you shoving his shoulder, and the next thing you knew he had you pinned against the couch cushions, kissing you like he’d been holding back for hours. it was messy and fast and you didn’t even bother moving to the bedroom. later, when you were both out of breath and sprawled in opposite directions on the couch, he laughed and said he wasn’t sure he’d ever look at the living room the same way again. you rolled your eyes, but the truth was you couldn’t either. a couple nights after that, he came into your room under the excuse of “borrowing your charger.” he didn’t even bother plugging it in before he was pulling you onto his lap, muttering something about how you were all he thought about during the day. it was slower that time, more deliberate, and he kept touching your face, brushing your hair back, doing all these little things that made it feel different from before. it wasn’t just sex anymore, and you could both feel that shift, even if neither of you said it out loud.

the funniest part was how the domestic side of living together changed too. suddenly, showers weren’t just showers. one night he pulled you in with him, no warning, and spent more time kissing you against the wall than actually washing his hair. you had to kick him out halfway through because you were going to run out of hot water, and he left pouting, soap still in his hair. the next morning, he walked into the kitchen with wet curls and this smug look on his face like he’d invented showering together. he also started hovering more. if you were cooking, he was in the kitchen, stealing bites and pressing up behind you. if you were working on your laptop, he’d somehow find his way onto the couch next to you, stretching until his feet were basically in your lap. and the hot moments were woven into all of it, like they weren’t separate anymore. you’d be brushing your teeth and he’d come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and before you knew it you were pressed against the sink, muffling laughs into his shoulder.

what really gave him away, though, was how restless he got when you weren’t around. he’d pretend to be casual, but you caught him more than once waiting up just to see when you’d get home. sometimes he’d act like it was nothing, asking about your night, but other times he’d just pull you into his room without a word, kissing you until neither of you remembered what the question was. and two weeks in, it was clear jake was completely losing it over you. he didn’t care that you weren’t good with words or that you never gave long speeches about how you felt. he got what he wanted anyway, your attention, your touch, the way you’d grab his shirt first when things escalated. and in return, he gave you everything without holding back. every day, in some new way, he made it obvious. and you didn’t fight it, not really. if anything, you were just as gone as he was, even if you weren’t ready to spell it out.

later that month, he wasn’t even thinking when it happened. you had just walked out of your lecture, holding your bag against your shoulder, half distracted scrolling through your phone, and he was leaning against the wall across the hall, waiting for his own class. he saw you before you saw him, and without even a second thought he was already walking over. you looked up, a little surprised, and he just smiled, leaned in, and pressed a quick kiss against your mouth. it was just a short kiss, the kind you’d gotten used to at home when he was passing by you in the kitchen or when you sat next to him on the couch. but this time, it wasn’t in your living room. it was in the middle of the hallway with people walking by.

the moment it happened, you froze, not because you didn’t want it but because your brain immediately registered where you were. his too. you could feel the second he realized what he’d just done, because he leaned back fast, eyes flicking around like maybe no one saw. except of course people saw. people always saw. his friends were standing just a few feet away, watching everything with that look that said they didn’t need to say a single word. they’d known for weeks anyway. he’d been obvious as hell about it, smiling at his phone all the time, making up the worst excuses just to go home early, and acting different in a way that was so clear he wasn’t fooling anyone. your friends weren’t idiots either. you’d told them enough details already, and they’d connected the dots themselves.

the thing was, none of you had ever brought whatever this was out into the open before. at home it was easy. you were roommates, no one else around, and it didn’t feel like you needed to define it. but here, in front of everyone, a kiss, even a tiny one, meant something else. it meant people would start asking questions. it meant you’d have to talk about it. you laughed under your breath, more out of nerves than anything, and gave him a look that said really? here? and he rubbed the back of his neck like he didn’t know how to explain himself. “sorry,” he muttered, but not in a way that sounded like he actually regretted it. more like he regretted the timing. you didn’t say anything, just shook your head, and the two of you walked out together, trying to act like nothing happened. but the hallway was still buzzing, and you could feel eyes on your back the whole time. his friends were definitely going to bring it up later, and your friends were already blowing up your phone. 

a few nights later, you were just sitting on the couch with him watching tv, when jake suddenly turned to you and said, “you know i never actually took you on a date.” it was random, no lead up, just dropped in the middle of whatever episode was playing. you looked at him and asked, “do you want to?” and he didn’t hesitate, just nodded immediately and said, “of course i do.” you laughed at how serious he looked, like he’d been planning that line in his head. then you told him how the two of you had skipped a few steps in this whole thing, and he laughed back, agreeing, saying it was the first time he’d ever lived with a girl before even kissing her. you reminded him he’d done a lot of things with you before kissing you, and that made him smirk. he leaned over, went right for you, and things got heated again in a way that left the rest of the night blurry. it wasn’t anything new for the two of you, but it made the next day stand out even more.

the next day, jake actually followed through. he kept it quiet until later, but you noticed how he was watching you get ready, leaning against the doorframe of your room with his arms crossed and that stupid grin he always got when he thought he was being subtle. you couldn’t put mascara on without him sneaking behind you and stealing a kiss on your cheek or the corner of your mouth. by the time you finally managed to get dressed and say you were ready, you already had to fix your lipstick because he wouldn’t keep his hands off you. he ended up taking you to this restaurant you didn’t even know he was aware of, the kind with dim lights and real cloth napkins, and it felt way more romantic than you were expecting. it was weird because until that moment, you had been convinced that whatever you had with jake was basically roommates who hooked up sometimes (all the times, to be exact). he’d never said anything that pointed in another direction. but sitting across from him, watching the way he leaned in when you talked, how he didn’t even look around the room once, just stayed focused on you the whole time, it hit you that maybe he was taking this seriously. maybe he’d been taking it seriously from the start and you were only just noticing.

that month just blurred into something you couldn’t really label, but anyone watching would’ve called it obvious. you woke up next to him more often than not, even though technically you had your own room. he made coffee for you when he was already in the kitchen, sometimes adding too much sugar on purpose just to watch you complain and drink it anyway. you sat on the couch with your legs across his lap while he absentmindedly rubbed your ankle during whatever show you two were pretending to pay attention to. he kissed you in the middle of conversations, in the middle of you yelling at him, in the middle of you doing literally nothing. the hot moments didn’t go away either. brushing teeth side by side sometimes ended with you pressed against the bathroom sink. “goodnight” kisses had a tendency to spiral until you were both late for whatever you had to wake up for the next day. there were lazy afternoons where he sat at the end of your bed, scrolling on his phone, and you tugged him back under the covers just to see how fast he’d cave. it all felt stupidly natural, like you’d been doing it forever, but also new enough that every time it happened you caught yourself smiling after.

so when sunghoon invited you both to a party, you didn’t really discuss it. you just went together like it was the default. you were getting ready in your room, digging through a pile of clothes while jake sat on your desk chair, spinning slowly and watching you with way too much interest. “i’m kind of excited for tonight,” he said out of nowhere.

you glanced at him in the mirror. “why?”

he leaned back casually, like it was nothing. “because i love showing people how pretty my girlfriend is.”

you froze mid-mascara stroke, nearly poking yourself in the eye, then turned around. “what did you just say?”

he blinked, all fake innocence. “what? i just said—”

“no, no, you said the g word,” you cut him off, pointing at him.

he tilted his head, playing dumb. “g word? what g word?”

“girlfriend,” you said, wide eyed.

he grinned. “oh, that. well, if you don’t like it, i can always call you my roommate instead. the r word.”

you burst out laughing. “roommate is not the same thing.”

“i don’t know, i think it’s got a nice ring to it.”

“shut up,” you said, still laughing. “i actually like the other one better, but if you’re gonna call me that, you should at least ask properly.”

his smirk got sharper. “a proper request, huh? i can do that. but if i do it now, we’re definitely gonna be late to sunghoon’s party.” and before you could respond, he was already standing, already crossing the room, already leaning down into you. whatever thought you had about finishing your eyeliner or getting out the door on time just dissolved, because apparently his version of a proper request involved making sure you completely forgot the party even existed for at least another half hour.

after that night, things just settled into something that felt permanent. he’d hold your bag while you tied your shoes, you’d grab his drink when you went to the kitchen, he’d keep his hand on your back when you walked through crowded places. you were in each other’s space constantly, but it never got heavy, it only got easier. jake realized it later, in this quiet way that hit him when he least expected it. like when he was brushing his teeth and you walked by in one of his shirts, humming some stupid song, and he caught himself smiling with toothpaste foam in his mouth. or when he stayed up too late on his laptop and you fell asleep against him on the couch, your head sliding down his shoulder, and he didn’t even move because he didn’t want to wake you. 

he had been stuck on you from the beginning, even when he didn’t want a roommate, even when he told himself it would just be temporary, even when he thought he’d keep a little distance. he couldn’t. every time he tried, you pulled him back without even noticing. it was just the truth: he couldn’t let go of you, even when he thought he wanted to.

one night, you were both stretched out on the couch, the tv running something neither of you were paying attention to, and you asked, almost offhand, if he ever ended up answering the housing office about switching apartments. he glanced over at you, chewing at the inside of his cheek like he always did when he was pretending to think about something serious, and then he smiled in that way that was a little smug but still soft.

“oh, baby, i’ll never leave you if you keep holding me this way.”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ ronnie's notes: idk i blacked out and wrote 30k of horny roommates fic for addie @jakesimfromstatefarm, don’t ask me how but here we are. she’s jake utted, she loves roommates to lovers, and i guess my brain went okay fine and gave in. this whole thing was actually inspired by stockholm syndrome by one direction (yes, i’m in my 1d phase again) and tbh i was lowkey scared it’d be too cliche at first but honestly i think it turned out to be one of the fics i’m proudest of, especially the smut lmao so yeah this fic is horny, has way too much pining, and accidentally got more feelings than i planned. but it’s also pure fun, and if addie doesn’t scream at me after reading this, i’m officially quitting. THANK UUUUUUU

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"Not really. Caught a session with Dr. Bahng, I'm sorry about dinner." He loosens his tie, trying to ignore the way your eyes follow his fingers. He takes his wedding ring off for work – insisting it snags on the gloves when gathering evidence, that he never wants to sully it with such grime. "How was your night?" Your sigh may be inward, but his eyes catch everything. Every frustrated twitch of your brows, the way your nose crinkles at the half-assed apology. Your eyes linger on the linoleum floor, and he fights the urge to pull you into his arms. He fights the urge to show any weakness to your feelings, he can't let go of work. He has to be strong, he has to be coarse, he has to be cold.

"It was…fine." You wave him off, moving to take the full plates off the table. Only then does Heeseung notice that you're still in your jeans, your white top neatly tucked into them. Your feet are clad in fresh socks, almost as if you were about to go out when he arrived. His eyes scan you as you move around, pulling his tie completely off and bunching it into his pocket. "Are you going out with your friends?" You don't reply as you scrape the cold food into the trash can, and he focuses on the sound of your bracelet lightly clinking with the handle of the fork. Your shoulders sag, soft curls of your hair sweeping over your face as you move to place the dishes in the sink. He sighs, before his legs move him behind you. "Why are you upset, honey?" "I'm not, I'm not upset." You scoff, turning the tap to hot when you feel Heeseung's hands ghost over your waist. You knew better than to attempt to hide anything from him, especially with the way his brain was literally trained to analyze your every movement. His lips press softly to your cheek as his fingers untuck your top, "I know you better than that." You're silent as his fingertips trace the soft skin of your stomach, his chin resting on your shoulder. He's going to wait until you decide you want to talk, despite knowing it will be the same argument you have every single week.

The same argument that always ends up unresolved as you kiss in your bed, sheets tangled between your bodies. It's enough to hold off on actually talking about it, it's enough to semi-satisfy the lack of attention you got from him during the week. It wasn't enough to feed his unvoiced, almost insatiable hunger for you, and how he wished he could just douse you in his love and affection until the sun rose. It wasn't nearly enough, because he'd still have to pry himself from the comfort of your warm embrace to step foot in the precinct and inhale the stench of evil in the world.

He felt awful, really. That he could never truly show you how much he loved you, how emotionally constipated his job made him…how his sessions with Dr. Bahng were no longer of much help. "Leave work at work, Lieutenant. You have the love of your life waiting for you at home." He had it memorized at this point.

"It's always the same thing, don't worry about it." You turn the tap off, feeling the guilt about wasting water seeping into your stomach. You weren't going to wash the dishes, you knew you weren't. You just wanted to lay down in bed with your husband, basking in the few minutes of attention he'd be able to give you before falling asleep. 

"Baby." You wince at the pet name, one so foreign on his lips. One you so rarely heard, long lost in your college memories. You grimace as you turn in his hold, his hands now resting on your hips. "Don't baby me, Heeseung." "Don't Heeseung me, Y/N. I know something is bothering you, and whether it's tonight, tomorrow, or next week – I'm not letting you go to bed like this." He looks at you through tousled locks, his eyes speaking for him. Just talk to me.

You shake your head in subtle disbelief, attempting to push past him when he pins you against the counter gently. "Let me go, Heeseung." "Not until you tell me what's going on." His voice is harsh, one he also rarely uses with you. Heeseung was always gentle, soft-spoken. "I've been at work all day, dealing with shit I can barely stomach. I just want to come home and spend time with you, what's wrong?" He's starting to whine, and it does nothing but make your eyes sting with tears.

"I just want to spend time with you, without having to beg you for it." You breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid his gaze. "You remember everything, Hee. I know you had to remember that tonight is date night." Sighing, you peel your eyes open to a guilty husband watching you with his own tired ones.

"I'm sorry, honey. It really did slip my mind. Let me…let me just take a shower and we can go have a night on the town, okay?" He starts to walk away, fingers pulling at the buttons of his shirt when you clear your throat. "It's fine, Heeseung. Let's just go to bed."

"No, let me fix this. We haven't had dinner, and we haven't spent time together in weeks." He slips his dress shirt off as he leaves your line of vision, and you just slump against the counter. He was right, and you hated that you knew he was. Heeseung was always this way, though, shouldn't you be used to it by now?

Yes, he was gentle and soft-spoken, with a touch of dirty humor and thoughtfulness that always made your heart race a little faster. Your relationship was built on a lot of comfort and deep talks, ones that usually involved you unraveling yourself entirely just to get a taste of his own secrets. The two of you had met in college, about three days after the disappearance of his childhood best friend, Cha Soyoung.

Heeseung was even more cold and stoic, and wasn't interested in so much as even befriending you. He didn't really speak, which according to his friends, was unnatural. They wound up being close friends of yours as well, thanks to Park Sunghoon, and the seven of them all also ended up working at the same precinct. "Heeseung talks…a lot. Not as much as Jay, but he's just going through a hard time right now." Sunghoon said as he sipped his drink, carefully chewing the tapioca pearls as the two of you walked. "It's not everyday your best friend of twenty years goes missing, you know?"You had shrugged, not really understanding what it was like. Your parents had moved you around a lot as a kid, and it was hard to make friends until they finally settled when you got into your last year of high school. You had met Sunghoon there, but only met the rest of your friends through him that following summer – except Heeseung. He'd gone home with Soyoung for the summer, returning to Seoul for the fall semester at Decelis University with her and your other friends. You still never spoke, until now.

You and Sunghoon were swinging by his dorm to help pass out flyers.

"Hey, Hoon. Y/N." Heeseung spoke quietly as he opened the door, his eyes nearly swollen shut from crying for the past three days. Your jaw dropped as you looked at his face, not at all recognizing the boy in front of you. Sure, you'd only ever seen pictures of Heeseung but you knew enough to know that this…wasn't him. Neither you nor Sunghoon spoke as Heeseung moved for the two of you to follow him, shutting the door behind you.

"How are you feeling?" Sunghoon asked as he trashed his drink, your own now sweating on a coaster on Heeseung's coffee table as the man gathered things around his dorm. You stood awkwardly as you swung your backpack onto the couch, opening it for Heeseung to slide the flyers in when you saw him shake his head. 

"I don't feel much, actually." 

Sunghoon glanced at you, but your legs moved before you could think. You rounded the table to Heeseung, who looked at your extended arms and empathetic eyes with cold ones. He'd set down the papers in his hands, fingers splayed across them momentarily before turning back to you and awkwardly entering your embrace. Your fingers easily found the nape of his neck, and his rigid form quickly softened as he breathed shakily into your shoulder. "M'Sorry." He mumbled as you felt a few tears soak through your shirt, and you just shook your head. 

Sunghoon also wound up wrapping his arms around the two of you. Something about the way that Heeseung's fingers clawed at your sides, and the way he sobbed into your shirt made you wonder how long he'd needed someone. Someone to ease the knot in his stomach, someone to help him see that this was something that would be solved and everything would be okay again. Someone to help him hop along until Soyoung was found, and someone to leave when she inevitably took her place again.

That was nine years ago. You and Heeseung began dating a year after that happened, a couple of months after the anniversary of Soyoung's disappearance. The police stopped looking, ruling her case as a runaway. You and Heeseung never stopped searching – you frequently asked cafe owners if you could pin missing posters on their corkboards, and even went door to door every few evenings asking if anyone had seen Soyoung. 

Heeseung had made it to the side of the law, and frequently reviewed the case to see if he had missed anything. He never had – you had all hit a dead end. Everyone's hope began to dwindle, but Heeseung never let that sway him. He even asked the forensics department to make age-progression posters, and they did. You'd pinned those up, too.

He was strong willed, he was diligent, he was determined. You love Heeseung, you love the person he is…

…But you hate that he can't leave his work at work. You hate that you get a crumb of his affection every few nights, whether it's his lips pressed against your cheek after dinner or his teeth nipping at your clavicle while hovering above you in bed. You hate that you find yourself longing for him even more than you did in college, despite now having him in the deepest way – as your husband, the person who loves you. 

The man who shed a singular tear as he watched you walk down the aisle, the man who supported you when your career wasn't what you expected. The man who endlessly told you he loved you in ways that weren't so evident to the naked eye – like leaving the warm water for you and showering in the ice cold, leaving the last slice of cake for you, rubbing your feet while watching Law and Order with you on days he didn't work (read: on days you pried him out of the home office.)

Heeseung loves you, you know that. You just can't shake the feeling that it won't be for much longer.

"Tuck in your shirt."

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up to see your husband now unrolling a pair of clean socks, speaking around a wide toothed comb between his teeth. He drapes the socks over the back of a chair, eyes glued to his reflection in the hallway mirror as he combs through his hair quickly. 

Rolling your eyes, you tuck in your shirt haphazardly as he parts his hair down the middle. "You can't go out with your hair wet, you'll get sick." You call as you make your way down to the bathroom, pulling open one of the cabinets to fish out your hair dryer. "I don't have time to dry my hair. In sickness and health, anyway." Heeseung yells down the hall, and you bite back your chuckle.

"But why make yourself sick? Sit, I'll dry it while you put on your socks." You untangle the cord, plugging it into the wall as Heeseung pouts. "The sound makes me sleepy! If I'm sleepy, we can't go out." He shakes his head, and you put a hand on your hip as you give him a pointed look. He sighs, tugging a chair towards you and plopping down.

"You're throwing a tantrum like a child. Mom, I don't want to wear my coat! Mom, I don't want my peas touching my mashed potato!" You mock his behavior, making him sulk further into the chair and creasing his shirt. "Sit up!"

He does, and watches you through the mirror as you carefully comb your fingers through his hair. He wonders why you forgive him so easily, why you do these things for him when he doesn't feel like he deserves it. The wasted dinner, the way you roll his socks after doing his laundry (that he insists he can do himself.) He wonders what he's done to make you love him so dearly.

"Where d'you wanna go? Olive You More? Thyme for Love?" His voice leaves the sulky attitude behind, as your fingers card through his damp hair, and you grimace. "Why are all our favorite restaurants so cheesy? It's disgusting." "Well, we could try that new one down by the river. Pasta La Vista, I think it's called." He taps his lips with his fingers, and you catch the glint of his gold wedding band snuggled around his left ring finger. You ignore the way your heart flutters, as you lightly smack his shoulder. "No more pun restaurants! We're not in college anymore." "Ah, but I love going to those places with you. I.." The words get caught in Heeseung's throat, as they always do. He always feels like he's saying it for the very first time, just like he did all those years ago in the middle of the woods. You got stuck in a blackberry bush, and it just slipped out.

"You..?" You ask, looking at him through the mirror. Your eyes are full of concern, a look he never stops seeing. It bothers him. "I love you." He mumbles shyly, looking away to pick at his cuticles. He doesn't see the gentle smile on your glossed lips, and feels your soft hair brush his neck as you lean to kiss his cheek. 

"Mmh, I would hope so." "Yah, say it back." He pouts as he turns to face you, and you can only smile wider before you place a chaste kiss on his lips. "I don't need to, you know who my heart calls home. Now, get up. We've got a delicious pasta dinner to inhale, and breadsticks to steal." He doesn't ask you to say it back again, only watching as you walk away with a skip in your step. He knows, he does. He knows you love him, he knows your heart calls him home. He knows you love him.

He's just worried it won't be for much longer.

Saturday, 10:32am.

"Good morning." Your voice is raspy with sleep, eyes still slightly shut as you whisper into his skin. It's a God-given miracle that he's still in bed next to you, instead of slipping out early like a college hookup. 

Unfortunately, that happened more often than not. "Have we always had such shitty curtains? I can't sleep with so much light." He groans, tugging your arm over his head as he moves to snuggle into your chest. His breathing softens as you pull him slightly closer, wrapping your arms fully around his head and shoulders. "Mmh, if you were still in bed by the time I woke up for the day, you'd know." "You know I can't be." He sighs, and you feel the ticklish sensation of his lips feathering over your clavicle. His teeth tug lightly at your necklace, one he gave you for your second anniversary, months after the wedding. He loves that you never take it off. 

"It's not a matter of if you can, it's a matter of if you want to." "Don't pull that, you know I do." He kisses your skin before burying his face into your neck. "I'd never leave this bed if it were up to me." His teeth are once more doing their oh-so routine nipping at the exposed skin of your shoulder, before you shift out of his reach. "We should get breakfast."

You turn onto your back, stretching your arms above your head with a soft yawn. Though blurred with fatigue, your eyes see Heeseung perfectly, his head resting lightly on your stomach. His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, thumb slightly slipping beneath to rub at the skin of your hip. Your tattoo peeks through, one Heeseung never lets you forget you have. His faded initials mock the both of you. "Or, counter offer: you can be my breakfast." 

You snort, propping yourself up your elbows to get a good look at the man now in your lap. He's pressing soft kisses around your navel, eyelashes fluttering slowly as his lips pepper around your warm skin. "Hee, you barely ate dinner."

"I've barely eaten you. I'm a man deprived, please?" His eyes finally peer up at you, and you scoff out a laugh, running a hand through your mussed curls. You shake your head as you tongue your cheek, allowing him to pull at the hem of your panties once more. "I'm not above begging, if that's what it takes. You know I'll do it." "Just take them off, you big baby. You're cheesy as shit, too." You roll your eyes as he grins, a playful bite to your outer thigh as he begins to move you around as he pleases. 

"Open." He kneels on the bed, knuckles rapping on your knees to part them. You can't help but roll your eyes again, but comply as he tugs down your underwear. It flies somewhere across the room, forgotten in a corner to gather dust, Heeseung completely unaware as he lies on his stomach.

"I've missed this." He sighs, before placing a chaste kiss on your inner thigh. "I miss you, most of all. I promise I'll be home earlier this week, baby." He doesn't give you a chance to respond as his tongue quickly finds home between your legs, softly licking at every inch he can reach. Your lip is tucked beneath your teeth, fingers grabbing at anything you can…

When his phone starts ringing. He groans into your skin, the vibrations making you shiver as disappointment takes over. He ignores the sound, choosing to pull you closer onto his face when you push his shoulder with your foot. "Just answer it, Hee." "I don't want to." His voice is muffled as his tongue collects your forming arousal, a soft moan from his throat as you squirm in his hold. "H-Hee, what if it's important?" "What if it's not? What could possibly be more important than you and I at this very moment?" His eyes are filled with a mix of annoyance and desire as he rests his cheek against your thigh. You hate the pitiful groan that escapes your lips as you reach for his phone, answering it for him. "Work." 

Sighing, he moves off the bed as he takes the call, motioning for you to stay as he speaks. "Go for Lee."

Complying, you simply become a jellyfish of a human, sprawled across your bed. You wonder why you answered the phone for him, why you pushed him to take the call. It bothers you that even now, you have begun prioritizing his work over your relationship, when you both promised each other that your love, affections and time for each other would never dwindle.

You can't say it has, though, at least for you. You love Heeseung, one could even say that distance has made your heart grow fonder. Not seeing him often has made you a bit more independent, and every time you find yourself eating dinner at the table alone, you're reminded of your mother. 

How she berated you for marrying for love and not stability, how she shamed you for abandoning the career that drained you of everything you had. You dislike how easy it was for her to get into your head, so much so that you'd spent all of yesterday applying for new jobs in your field, while waiting for Heeseung to get home – and hopefully have your regular date night.

Not that he was even around to have said date. Sure, he made it up to you…but at what cost?

As you begin to sink into your spiraling thoughts, Heeseung reappears in the doorway of your bedroom. He doesn't speak loud enough for you to hear as he beelines for the closet – a mumble of frustrations spilling from his lips as he rips a shirt off its hanger. Turning on your side, you cover your lower half with the blanket that's no longer warm before speaking to him. "Duty calls, huh?" "Yes." 

In silence, you watch as he buttons his shirt, the muted teal making his skin glow softly. He doesn't look you in the eyes as he revisits the closet, tugging on his favorite pair of brown slacks. A pair you made for him a few years ago, right after leaving your job – and you remember the way his eyes lit up as you presented them. You remember the way he kissed each of your fingertips that night, covered with bandaids from pin pricks. You remember returning home the next day from a girls' day with Chaewon, to find a packet of colorful silicone thimbles, and a few more pieces of glittery, cream-colored fabric laid out on your bed.

Fabric he'd used to make you a dress, with flutter sleeves and a deep v-neckline. Fabric he'd used to sit and carefully hand-stitch the flowy sarong skirt. When did he find the time? He hadn't given you much of a chance to ask questions, before he insisted you put it on and let him take you out for a nice dinner.

It was the last time the two of you truly connected on something deeper than his work or your convenient unemployment. It was the last time that the two of you genuinely laughed together and did things from your younger years, like dancing in the twilight to no music and kissing in every corner possible on the walk home. The last time you wore his favorite perfume, because after that, months passed without a second thought about you.

The silence between you has grown neutral – not entirely comfortable, because who wants to spend their days without hearing the love of their life speak to them? Laugh with them, maybe even get into a bit of a spat with them that shows your relationship is becoming more than just the bare minimum? Certainly not you, and by the way Heeseung robotically loops his tie while staring you down in the mirror, a look of longing in his eyes before turning to you.

"I won't be long, I promise." 

He notes the way your head tilts, the way an understanding smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes takes over your face. "Don't worry, take your time." The way your hair is effortlessly splayed around your head, life's odd attempt at recreating the halo to represent the absolute angel you are. One Heeseung doesn't deserve.

You get up, swinging your bare legs over the side of the bed before grabbing for your bath towel. "I'll get ready for my day, and maybe…" You trail off as your toes touch his shoes – he wore them in the house sometimes, a habit of his you despised. 

"And maybe we can catch lunch together?" He finishes, a shy smile crossing his lips as you place a gentle kiss on his cheek. His arm snakes across your naked waist, fingers lightly pinching your hip as you smile into his skin.

"Maybe. Drive safe."

Heeseung knows that Dr. Bahng told him to leave work at work. However, Dr. Bahng said nothing about bringing home to work. He said nothing about thinking about you at work, or missing you, or daydreaming about you instead of analyzing the reports that a pair of rookies messed up. He also said nothing about reading articles by some sketchy romance columnist on how to keep your relationship alive, which is exactly what Heeseung was scrolling through right now. 

There are things in a relationship that must always be shared in order to avoid, or resolve conflict. How the other person is making you feel, how you are making them feel, and how to tackle both negative checklists properly. It is key to always remember that it must be you and your partner against the problem, not you and your partner against each other.

You make Heeseung feel…alive. You make him feel loved, cherished, and even at some bizarre times, worshiped. You make him appreciate waking up at the ass crack of dawn, your sleeping face relaxed as he peppers kisses across your warm skin – something he's thankful never manages to wake you up, but it adds to all the adoration he holds in his heart for you.

How does he make you feel? Dejected, neglected, rejected. Pushed aside for the true love of his life – work. You never bring it up unless he asks. You never brought it up until last July, when he was slumped in his office chair after drinking half a bottle of sherry whiskey, listening to music and thinking about yet another dead end that deterred him from finding Soyoung. You had approached him with a gentle gaze, a soft touch to his shoulder and asking about taking a shower together. You never questioned him, you never pressured him, you never tried to make him something you assumed he just wasn't – an attentive, doting husband.

And he remembers how he asked you, too. He remembers spinning around in his chair, stoically asking you if he was everything you'd ever wanted. Asking you if he was living up to your expectations, as a husband, as a life partner, as a friend, even.

And he remembers the way you sighed carefully before perching on his desk. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I'm sure you'll continue to grow and be even more deserving of the love I hold for you." You had smiled, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Nothing we can't work through, you know? If I was given a choice in another life, another world – I'd still choose you."

He will never forget it, and he can still feel the warmth of your lips against his as you led him to the bathroom. He can still feel the ache of your love on his skin from the way you held him under the running water, quietly basking in his presence as the mint of your shampoo filled his nose. Nothing is as special to him as you are. 

There are things that should routinely be shared in order to maintain a homeostasis of the calendar. Asking how their day was, if you have any ideas for dinner tonight, or if you'd like to do something this weekend to celebrate the mundane. It shouldn't be difficult to establish a routine with your partner, if you are in tune with them. A kiss goodbye in the morning, a warm embrace in the evenings. A shared meal, a shared bath, a shared bed. 

Heeseung can't remember the last time he fully checked in with you – you always have something to do. You always attempt new creative projects, and his fingers toy with the fabric of his slacks as he remembers that you hand stitched them. He thinks about how you waited for him all night yesterday, and the disappointment you must have felt when he arrived late. He thinks about how he just doesn't make time to tackle the problem that you two are constantly glossing over by being intimate – he knows you don't feel loved. 

He didn't ask you about your day yesterday, or the day before, or last week. He didn't ask you if you were sewing anything new, learning any new pieces on the piano collecting dust in the living room. He hasn't asked about your mother, but at least he knows you don't like to talk about her. 

Heeseung hasn't asked you a single thing about yourself, or your life in a while – and he doesn't know how long it's been. Even last night, your eyes were focused entirely on him – the way his lips twitched when you said you liked the wine he chose, the way he pulled your leg over his in the booth you were sharing. You asked him about work, and he just shook his head as he pointed out the new menu items. 

You love him so selflessly.

Something that works for my partner and I is parallel play. We aren't necessarily doing something together, but we are present in the same room and doing our own thing. Knowing that he is there, and that if I need him, I can reach for him, adds a comfort to our relationship. Aside from this, we also come together every two weeks and address any issues we may be experiencing – both in our relationship and our individual lives. We resolve the issues about us together, and advise the other on our personal issues. Balance!

You do this a lot. If Heeseung is home, you'll wander to wherever he is and sit down where you can, and quietly go about your business. Sometimes it's a new cross-stitch, sometimes it's just putting a headphone in and listening to music. Sometimes you're giving yourself a pedicure, sometimes you're just sitting there staring at his corkboard of paraphernalia while matching your breathing to his. It was subtle, something you thought he'd never notice.

He sighs, exiting out of the tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. Tugging it on, he uses one hand to log out of his computer when he hears three knocks on the door. A lightness of the rapping knuckles similar to yours…and your smiling face appears as you crack open the door. "Surprise?" He hates that he can't bite back his smile, a few of his fellow officers wide-eyed at his expression. He nods silently, and you extend your hand for him when you hear his coworkers whispering about you. With a dejected look, you tuck your hand back into the pocket of your jeans, "Guess we don't want them gossiping, right?" "Right." He mumbles, his own hand twitching around the doorknob as he pulls it shut behind him. He wants to reach for you, embrace the warmth you bring, show you off to the people he often calls his friends. Sunghoon catches his eye, a quizzical look on his face before shaking his head. 

Heeseung reaches for you, but you've already made your way towards the door. Your smile has lessened as you open the door, holding it for him. "How was work?" You ask as he joins you in the cool air, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close, his nose buried in your hair. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, instead leaning back to try and meet his eyes. "Hee?" "Don't ask me about work." He mutters, before pressing his lips to yours softly. You let out a noise of surprise, but you can't melt into his touch before he pulls away. "I hate talking about work, let's talk about you. Over lunch." He takes your hand in his, gently pulling you to his side as he makes his way to the car. He doesn't see yours in the parking lot, so he only assumes you got a rideshare before you clear your throat.

"Are you okay?" The words are slightly jumbled as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you, helping you step in. "Hm? Why do you ask?" "Well…you're actually out of the office. And you want to go to lunch…and you don't want to talk about work?" Your voice is meek, and it makes his chest ache as he reaches to buckle your seatbelt in for you. "I just want to spend time with you. Shall we?" His smile is a little forced, until he sees the soft gloss of embarrassment over your eyes.  "Okay."

Tuesday, 6:23pm.

You don't really know what snapped inside of Heeseung over the weekend. He even took Monday off, turning off his phone after calling in sick and snuggling back into your embrace. He spent all of Sunday asking you random questions throughout the day, wandering around the house as you tried to pick up to start the week off fresh. He would hold the laundry basket so you could separate the clothing, he would hold the step stool so you could dust the corners of the living room – he even re-caulked the window in your bedroom because you were sitting at your vanity doing your makeup. He seemed restless to get all of these answers out of you, and while you didn't mind, you knew this attention was only temporary.

Duty called, after all.

However…he was home earlier than usual. He typically had his session with Dr. Bahng right after dinner time, but it seems your habit of making two portions is deemed fruitful tonight. He's sitting in front of you, having arrived home thirty minutes prior – showered and ready to share a meal with you. Just like he did this weekend, just like he did when your relationship first started out.

You remember sharing meals with him in your dorm room. Your roommate was almost never there, always spending time with her girlfriend – so you had free range of the entire place. Heeseung slept over almost every night, and the two of you would stay up at all hours of the night – whether it was discussing 80s cold cases or your major.

Your major…it wasn't necessarily hard. It was one of those things that was only difficult if you didn't really like it, if you didn't have a passion for it. It was one of those things that took someone strong, both mind and body. You wanted to help better the world, see how things could change at your fingertips. You wanted to eat the world in one bite, and it simply wasn't possible – no matter your hard-earned master's degree or your passion for helping people. It was a time of realization – and it was funny, that you had the same qualifications as Dr. Bahng, but your career would never bear fruit like his.

You never really made a difference, like Dr. Bahng did. You didn't even get through to your husband like he did.

So when you came home one night a few years ago and saw Heeseung sitting at the table, waiting for you, you wondered if any of the people you helped that day would ever get to live content. You quit the very next day, your mind tortured over people you didn't know and things you couldn't control. It took a while before you got out of your head again – and even longer before you finally left your bed. It was this time when your relationship with Heeseung really tried to prove itself worthy of your time and effort – because though he wasn't home with you, to soothe your swirling anxieties and racing mind throughout the day, he was there.

He was there, with plates of fruit and warm tea. He was there, with a hairbrush gently forking through your matted hair. He was there, letting you cry yourself to sleep in his embrace and leaving early the next morning, with bags under his eyes. He understood, somehow, that you needed him more than ever before in those moments, and it seemed like that version of Heeseung was starting to reemerge – this time, without need.

"Are you hiding something from me?" You blurt, and Heeseung nearly chokes on his bite of food. Coughing, he reaches for his glass of water as you pat his back, offering him a napkin to wipe his lip. Taking a sip of water, he looks at you. "We haven't spoken all day and that's how you start a conversation?" He seems amused, a look you don't see on him often anymore. You can feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up your throat, and he pushes his plate forward, choosing to fold his hands on the table before he clears his throat. "I realize…I haven't been the best husband." You can feel your eyes begin to roll, when he taps the table. "I have never been very good to you, and yet, you've stood by me. Through ups, downs…you helped me out of a very dark place when Soyoung went missing." He clears his throat again, and your eyes catch the way he blinks back a few tears. "And I've given you near nothing in return." "Marriage is not transactional." You say gently, and he shakes his head. "Isn't it, though? In the eight years we've been together, you've given me so much. You take care of me, of our home. You…You can just do it all, and I admire it. I really, really do." He runs a hand through his hair, before reaching for your hand. You allow him to take it, and you hate to admit that a bit of skepticism is beginning to settle in your stomach. 

"Why are you saying all of this? It's never mattered before, you know." Heeseung can sense something in your tone that you don't seem to catch. A hint of…frustration, anger, maybe even resentment. He knows you probably have more to say, and that whatever it was would most likely hurt his feelings.

He kind of wants you to, though, and you do – letting go of his hand. He folds them, his plate abandoned in order to take you in fully.

"Do you not want to talk about this? I can drop it, but it'll just come back up, honey." He asks gently, his head tilted to the side as he scans your face. You suck on your teeth, your fork pushing your food around before you sigh. "Maybe you're right." "About?" He straightens, his hands still folded on the table. You give him a guilty look, though he doesn't know what you could possibly have to feel guilty about. 

"You're right, you haven't been the best husband. Hell, I don't think you've ever even really been a good husband, if we're being honest about it." 

Heeseung doesn't react, and doesn't allow his face to move as you speak. He's finally broken the dam, because now you're rambling and you can't seem to stop.

"Was it ever going to be me, I mean, really? They say that being good to the people you love really takes no effort, that it's not hard to be doting and attentive to the person you love. You have such a hard time being here for me, you have the worst time detaching yourself from work and the cases you see everyday. You come home at whatever time is convenient for you, while I wait for you like an idiot." You blurt, and Heeseung breathes in carefully, so as to not startle you. He nods, closing his eyes.

He can sense the impending lump in your throat. He's never really seen you get angry – frustrated, irritated, even annoyed have all been emotions he's both seen and enticed. You've never been angry, you've never exploded on anybody.

"Do you ever think what your life would be like if Soyoung were still around?" 

His eyes snap open at this, brow furrowing slightly but either you don't notice or don't seem to care, because you keep going.

"Do you think you'd even care about me if she was here? I get it, she's your best friend, maybe even the love of your life. I wouldn't blame you at all if I was just a placeholder until she was found." 

He's watching your face as you speak, the way your lower lip trembles slightly and your chest rises and falls in shallow breathing. Your hands shake as you reach for the plate in front of him, shoving it under your own before standing up.

His chest aches at the idea of you thinking that anyone but you could ever be the love of his life, but can't bring himself to open his mouth and tell you.

"As shitty as it sounds, the more the years pass, the more I hope she's found. Maybe then you will truly have someone to love, someone who will fulfill your needs just as you like. Maybe then I won't have to pretend that I don't know I'm second to someone who isn't around." You murmur, and Heeseung feels his stomach churn a bit as you stand, taking the plates to the kitchen. You place them in the sink, holding the cool metal of the basin before turning back to him.

"I love you, Heeseung. I loved you then, I love you now, and I may love you for the rest of my life." You speak softly, stepping back to the table. You lean on the back of a chair, the necklace hanging around your neck mocking him in the dim light. "But me loving you, will never make you truly happy. I don't need you to tell me, you know? Knowing I can keep you company, knowing that you won't be alone, is fine with me. You don't need to love me."

You smile gently, the gloss on your lips sparkling. It's one of his favorites, it tastes like vanilla.

"You don't need to love me the way I love you, for me to know you care. So, don't worry about it. You don't need to check in with me, you don't need to…reciprocate." You shrug, taking the cups off the table, and turning back to the kitchen. You stop, looking over your shoulder. "And, Heeseung?" He can't bring himself to speak. He tries to clear his throat, but you proceed anyway.  "Don't forget date night this Friday."

Thursday, 12:46pm.

You'd dropped by the precinct randomly, seeing Heeseung hunched over his computer from the entrance. The new receptionist asked you who you were here to see, and you gave his name, holding up the bag of food you brought with you. 

"Lieutenant Lee doesn't take visitors." The receptionist rolls her eyes, and you hear Sunghoon before you see him. "Minseo, this is the Lieutenant's wife."

You whirl around to see your long-time friend, who smiles down at you. "Good to see you again. Dr. Lee." He speaks politely, making Minseo blush furiously as she prints a pass for you. She apologizes profusely, but you just shake your head and give her a warm smile, adjusting your purse on your shoulder.

"How're you, Hoon?" You ask as you paste the sticker onto your jacket, and he shrugs as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. "Could be better, could be worse. However, I did hear from a little bird that you and Heeseung got into a fight." Rolling your eyes, you know that Sunghoon is just stirring the pot. He seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to your relationship with Heeseung – seeing as he was the one who got the two of you together in the first place. 

"We didn't…ugh, we didn't fight. We just…had a conversation. I'll tell you about it, when are you off? We can get dinner." You say as the two of you reach Heeseung's office. He shakes his head.

"Don't put me in the middle. I'll text you though, we do need to catch up." He says, knocking on Heeseung's door for you. You hear your husband's tired voice, and Sunghoon opens the door. "You've got a special visitor." 

You don't miss the way Heeseung's exhausted eyes look up at you, lighting up the moment they land on your face. You almost crack a smile at this, before Sunghoon shoves you in lightly. "Enjoy your lunch, Lieutenant." Heeseung doesn't say anything. The two of you hadn't really spoken since Tuesday night, and he certainly didn't expect you to come by today. Or any day, really…he remembered the first time you ever dropped by the precinct. He'd welcomed you with a tight smile, before asking you to let him know beforehand next time. You didn't do it again, for years.

"Mind if I close these?" You ask, gesturing to the blinds, and he shrugs. He doesn't close out any of his tabs as you set the food down, kneeling on the couch lining the wall to close his blinds. He takes this moment to take you in. You were wearing his favorite dress on you, the pink one with the white-lined circle seams. You're shrugging off your jacket now that the blinds are closed, draping it over the chair in front of his desk. "I brought you lunch, I hope that's okay. I probably should have called ahead." You gesture to the bag on the table, but his eyes just peer over the monitor, his brow twitching up as you sit gingerly on the edge of the couch. He hadn't cleared up or refuted any of your points on Tuesday, but the guilt he felt that night was enough to make him sleep in the guest room. He didn't know that didn't make you feel any better, in your mind it just cemented your opinions as you let your pillow soak up a few stray tears. 

"You look gorgeous." He murmurs as you unpack quietly, uncapping containers and sniffing them to figure out what is what. You stop, holding a bowl of broth to your face when you register what he said. "What?" "I said, you look gorgeous." He repeats himself, quickly typing up a rather unprofessional email to the rest of the precinct and letting them know he'd be leaving after lunch. He shoots it off, exiting the tab before standing up and stretching. His shirt is messily untucked, and he can feel your eyes on him as he twists to relax his back muscles. "Thank you…I think." He shrugs, ignoring the pang in his chest at your uncertainty before glancing over the array of food you'd brought with you. You seem a bit unsure about it all, but they're all his favorite dishes. He doesn't see any of yours – no soft tofu stew, no cold noodles, not even the tea you like. He keeps scanning your face as you prepare everything silently.

"Have you eaten already? I know you don't like any of these dishes." He asks, squatting next to you. You smile down at him, shrugging. "I'll eat at home. You left breakfast on the table this morning, so I figured you'd be hungry."

He had left breakfast on the table, but not for the reason you think. His morning routine consisted of showering, brushing his teeth and washing his face, putting his clothes on and, as creepy as it sounds, staring at you as you slept. He didn't kiss you this morning, like he usually did, but he desperately wanted to. So much so that he lost track of time just watching you sleep so peacefully, and had to run out of the house without it.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was in a rush." He pouts, and you just shake your head. "Don't worry about it. What's one day?"

It's everything. He thinks he feels your cold demeanor seep into his bones a bit, but your eyes are still warm as ever. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, but your hand ruffles his hair lightly. He lifts slightly to sit next to you, and you press your lips to his cheek, your lipstick stamping on his skin. "You smell nice." He doesn't respond, his cheeks and ears tinging pink as you hand him utensils. Leaning back, you rest your head against the window sill, not noticing he's made no effort to even touch the food you've brought. Still, better now than never.

"I have something to tell you." You murmur, and he hums in response. 

"I figured about as much." He leans back with you, holding a rice cake between his teeth before shoving into his mouth. "Do tell, Dr. Lee." You stare at your manicured nails, the french tip suddenly bothersome to your eyes. "I had an interview this morning, at the fifth precinct. In the next town over. " 

He sits up, turning to face you completely. "Okay. How'd it go? I did hear that Dr. Park was retiring." Not a hint of malice in his voice, just pure curiosity. Encouragement, support.

"They said I can start next week. Three patients a day for two weeks, and then I will take over Dr. Park's patients as well. Well, those who want to transfer over." You don't know why you're nervous telling him this. His eyes scan your face, and you groan. "Why are you staring at me?" "You don't seem very happy about it." He says, tilting his head to the side as he bites into another rice cake. "I am happy about it. I just…it's a little far and I won't be home before you are on nights you're not set to see Dr. Bahng. I won't get to make dinner and I'll be out of the house before you are most days." 

You stop yourself from rambling, watching as Heeseung looks at you intently. He glances at the food spread out on the table, before shoving the other half of the rice cake he bit into his cheek. "C'mon."

He gets up, yanking his coat off the hanger by the door, before opening it. "Where are we going? Heeseung, the food-" "Sunghoon, lunch on me." He calls out the door, before grabbing your jacket off the chair and your purse. Looking at you, he watches as you sit still, confusion on your face before he walks over, draping your jacket over your shoulders. "C'mon, we've got to celebrate. We can go to that French place you love." 

Amused, you shove your arms through the sleeves of your jacket before standing. "Heeseung, you hate that place." Rolling your eyes, you reach for your purse, only for him to grab your hand and pull you in. His lips are on yours, a chaste kiss shared before he leans his forehead against yours.

"But I love you, and I'm proud of you. So let me show you, yeah?" 

You blink up at him, before hearing Sunghoon's grunt of feigned disgust. "C'mon, guys, not in the office!"

"Shut up, man." Heeseung rolls his eyes, lacing his fingers in yours, and you hear the soft clink of metal. Ignoring the bickering between the two men, you look down, you see his engraved wedding band gleaming up at you, having knocked with an old silver ring of his that you'd taken after it stopped fitting him. "You're wearing your ring." "Hm?" He glances down at you, before smiling. "Oh, yeah. I figured…I don't know. I like seeing it, it was silly of me to think the way I did about it."

Sunghoon scoffs at the sudden mushiness, and you look up to see half the precinct staring you down. Heeseung has your lipstick stamped on his cheek, and you feel embarrassed as the two of you get walked out by Sunghoon. Jungwon passes by, doing a double take when he sees the lipstick on your husband's face.

He smiles at you, a knowing look in his eyes as the two of you skirt past. Heeseung stops at the receptionist's desk, her smile disappearing the moment she sees your lipstick on his cheek. He asks her to cancel all his appointments for the day, and to let Captain Choi know that he would be taking the weekend off. She just nods, and Heeseung bids everyone goodbye with a whistle.

"She hates me, you know." You mumble, and he gives your hand a squeeze. “She can hate you all she wants, doesn’t change anything. Waste of her own energy.”

You don’t know what to make of this. In a way, you think you’ve forgotten your husband’s demeanor. Heeseung squeezes your hand again, "Where's your car? Did you take a rideshare?"

His brow is furrowed as he scours the parking lot for your sedan, and you shake your head. "Saving gas, I have quite the commute." He scrunches his nose, before shrugging as the two of you make your way to his car.

He opens the door for you quietly, helping you up and going as far as taking your purse to hang behind his headrest. You always complained about the feeling of the straps against your neck when you leaned your head back.

"So." He starts, his fingers carefully turning the volume dial down as the soft jazz station he plays on his commute bleeds through the speakers. "So…what?" "Why didn't you tell me you were thinking of going back to work? I thought we told each other everything." He says pointedly, as he makes a turn into the street. The light at the end is still green, if he speeds up a bit, he should make it. He sees you shrug out of the corner of his eye.

"Didn't think it'd be important. If I'm honest, I didn't think you'd notice." He doesn't like the twinge of sadness in your voice, but you clear your throat before he can mention it. "Should we take a walk later, as well? The weather feels great." "Yeah, honey. Whatever you want." He nods, his turn signal flicked by his ring finger, and he doesn't miss your eyes on his hands as he makes the turn. "Hee?" "Yes?" "I'm sorry." You murmur, making him glance at you quickly before you turn your head back to look out the window. Before you know it, he's pulling into an empty parking lot behind an apartment complex, ignoring the onlooking eyes of a woman taking her trash out. He parks carefully, turning the car off before turning in his seat to look at you.

"Sorry?" He echoes, and you peer over your shoulder at him. Your eyes are glossed over, and he huffs out a humorless laugh. "Oh, my baby. Come here." His arms wrap around you carefully, your hands coming to cover your face as he tucks you into his shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N." "I do. I do, Heeseung. I was such a jerk on Tuesday–" Your muffled words stop as he pulls away, his warm fingers circling your shoulders and giving a soft squeeze. "No. You weren't a jerk, you were trying to communicate with me." "Still, I–" "No, Y/N. If anything, I've been a jerk." He huffs, letting go of your shoulders as his back hits the window lightly. "I've never been a good partner to you, and it's so incredibly unfair of me to think that you will just wait and wait until I just feel like being better to you." You blink at him owlishly, adjusting to tuck your legs under you. Your heels now sit on the car floor.

"I have never been good to you. No matter what it is, no matter where I am, I push you aside time and time again. It's like…" He stops, picking at his cuticles before sighing. "I love you so much. It's so hard for me to say and I still feel like some stupid teenager trying to figure out his feelings, but I know. I know I love you and I know you deserve to be loved far more than I can express." You rest your temple against the headrest, "Not everyone goes through what you did, though. I'd be foolish to think loving you would be an ordinary path." "And then you go and do that. God, you're so understanding and it kills me inside." He smiles pitifully, running a hand through his hair. "I want to deserve it. I want to come home and deserve the warm meals you make, I want to lay in bed with you and deserve your touch and your warmth and I want to deserve you."

His eyes sting with tears, and he hears a soft sigh from your lips. Lips he yearns for every second of the day, lips he loves to feel trail along his neck after a long day at work. Lips he pulls whines and moans out of, lips he kisses shimmery vanilla lip gloss off of.

You don't say anything, your fingers reaching for him in his lap. You interlock your hands, bringing his up to your lips and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles.

"I've thought about divorce, you know." You say quietly, his head snapping up to look at you. "What?" "Yeah." You breathe out, your fingers tightening around him. "I thought about leaving, I thought about taking one of the offers I've received in the last seven years for a job in the middle of a new city. I thought about packing up all my clothes, and phoning my mother for help. I figured, if she's my attorney, I can leave everything to you in lieu of me." Heeseung can feel his chest ache as you turn to look at him, your pearl drop earrings swinging with your hair as you do so. He feels like he's in a movie.

"But, I thought about being nineteen with you." "Nineteen?" "Nineteen." You laugh softly, your thumb now rubbing small circles into his skin. You place your other hand atop the pair, enveloping him in your warmth. "I thought about nineteen-year-old me, who saw nineteen-year-old you and felt the world come to a slow, slow stop."

You're staring up into the sky now, the odd sighting of the moon high in the sky at this hour was a good distraction. "I thought, what can I do to deserve him? What can I do to ease his pain, and help him hop through life until his answers are found, until he no longer needs me?" 

"I'll always need you." He blurts, and you nod. "You're selfish like that." He silently nods in agreement, and you speak again. "You're a selfish lover." "I know." He mumbles, not able to look you in the eyes as you sigh. "But, I like it."

"I like that you're selfish." You repeat, and he gives you a quick look. "I like that even when I don't feel loved by you, you wouldn't survive without me. In lieu of me, who?" Your voice is sweet, but he knows your words hold a bit of bitterness. You like the idea of him being nothing without you, and he can't blame you for that. If you'd treated him the way he did you, he'd wish ill upon you until he no longer could. He'd hate you.

"Shall we go?" You ask gingerly, and he nods as he turns in his seat, letting go of your hand. You allow it, buckling in your seatbelt as he readies himself, turning the key in the slot before you clear your throat. "Heeseung?" "Yes?" He hates the eagerness in his voice. He hates how he's like a dog the moment you offer a crumb of your attention, but it's what he deserves. He wants to be a lovesick fool for you, he wants your every word to burn and weigh on him like the heat of a thousand fires.

Your gentle smile kills him as you look into his eyes, a shrug to your shoulders as you let the words slip.

"I love you."

Saturday, 6:43pm.

Thursday afternoon and all of Friday had been rather odd in your house.

Heeseung spent the days trailing behind you, even offering to take you out to shop for outfits for your new job in lieu of date night. You weren't surprised, though – he was always a fan of the way you styled yourself for work. Classy dresses, skirts that fell just below the knee. Long sleeved blouses with jeweled buttons, he felt like a Victorian man going nuts over the sight of your pantyhose-covered ankles.

Tonight, he'd made it a point to get slightly tipsy. You'd gone to a luncheon with your new boss earlier, so you'd arrived just as he was finishing up vacuuming the living room with a half-empty glass of bourbon and Stardust by Ben Webster played throughout the house. He wanted a bit of liquid courage for the conversation he knew the two of you had to have – that is, if he wanted things to start changing for the better.

"Hee?" You called from the foyer, watching as he spun to look at you, face slightly flushed from the alcohol. You let out a laugh, shrugging your coat off as he trekked the living room to greet you. "Babe! How was lunch? I figured I'd clean up here a bit, I know you hate when it gets messy…" Heeseung rambled on about the housework as you gingerly stepped out of your heels, nodding along to his tipsy conversation. You left your shoes in the tiled foyer, walking towards the kitchen for a drink of your own. Heeseung had bought you your favorite sherry whiskey as a congratulatory gift on your new job.

"Wait, let me pour. You must be tired." He stops you from grabbing the bottle off the bar in the kitchen, choosing to skirt around you and open the fridge for a nice cube of ice. You liked two, he remembers. "How was the lunch? Did you eat?" You shrug, "I nibbled. It wasn't very good, it was at that Italian place we don't like." You scrunch your nose as Heeseung hands you your drink, making his lips curve slightly. "Funny, I was going to say we should give it another try." "No way, they fucked up my tiramisu. Remind me to never recommend that place to Sunghoon." You scoff, missing the way your husband's eyes trail your relaxed form as you lean against the counter. "And one of the other doctors was asking me so many questions about myself, it was so annoying. Like, we're not going to be best friends, man." "Like what?" He asks, listening to My Foolish Heart by Bill Evans Trio echo through the house. It was one of the songs played at your wedding, one of the first songs you and Heeseung ever danced to in college. "Oh, Dr. Lee, are you married? Oh, Dr. Lee, do you have kids? Oh, Dr. Lee, what does your husband do? Like shut up! Why does it matter, you're my husband, not his." You roll your eyes, not noticing the way Heeseung's cheeks flush at your words. Downing your drink in one go, you wince slightly, likely from the ice clinking against your teeth but you shake it off. "So, what do we want for dinner?" You poke at his side, and his arm reaches for you. You willingly bring yourself into his embrace, his arms looping around you gently as your fingers hold his t-shirt. "You look so pretty in your little outfit." "Dinner, Heeseung. Use your noggin." You roll your eyes, and he just peers down at you with an odd look in his eyes. Full of…admiration? "You're so beautiful." You feel your cheeks warm as you try to play off his effect on you, clicking your tongue. "I need you to focus here, Lieutenant. Me, your wife, would like dinner." "I heard you, baby." He nods, pulling you closer. You huff, but allow yourself to rest your head against his chest. The two of you had not been…close in this manner in a very long time – you couldn't possibly date the last time he held you like this, it was that long ago. You hate how easily you're melting into him, the warmth of his body, the gentle caressing of his hands to the rhythm of the jazz song playing in the living room.

"Should we get take out? We can watch that movie you like, the one with Al Pacino." He murmurs, carefully tugging the elastic out of your hair, releasing the curls from the ponytail you'd tied back earlier. You nod against him quickly, "And Keanu Reeves?" The two of you look at each other, and he can feel a laugh bubble in his throat at how excited you look as he nods. "Yeah." "Okay! Okay, I'm…gonna go change, and then we can get settled and stuff. Okay?" You blink up at him, your fingers already making quick work of the buttons on your shirt. His lip is tucked between his teeth as his eyes rake your skin, and you scoff, tugging your shirt to cover your chest. "Heeseung! Pay attention!" "I am, baby! I am paying attention!" He laughs, throwing his hands up in defense. "God forbid I want to look at you!" "You're such a man, ugh!" You stick your tongue out at him, turning on your heel when you hear him call after you. "Yeah, well, I'm your man. Deal with it!" You hate how his words make you feel like a teenager as you scamper to your bedroom, quickly discarding your work clothes into the hamper by the door. You can hear Heeseung speaking on the phone in the kitchen, soft thank yous from his lips as you unclasp your bra, sighing in relief as you dig through your husband's drawer when you hear him start walking down the hall. 

"Jesus, warn a guy." He gasps dramatically from the doorway, and you roll your eyes as you tug one of his old band tees over your head. "Heeseung, you've literally eaten my ass." "You said you liked it!" He protests, and you snort. "It was okay. You act like you're so amazed by my boobs, you've seen them hundreds of times." You flip your hair out of the shirt, opening your own drawer to fish out a pair of bottoms. 

"Doesn't make me love them any less." He shrugs, checking his watch. "We have twenty minutes until the food gets here." You look up at him, your fingers rooting through the drawer as you take in his avoidant look. He's nibbling on his lower lip as he stares up at the ceiling fan, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. You scoff, "Honey, we've been together for eight years. If you want to have sex, you can say that." "You make me nervous!" He groans, and you laugh out loud. "What has gotten into you, Lee Heeseung? One week you're begging to eat me out and the next you can't even look at me in my underwear! Are you alright?" You snort as you pull out a pair of his old basketball shorts, and he sighs. "Uhm…Okay, fine. I want to talk about our…sex life? The…uhm, the way we kind of just skirt around all our issues with it." You blink, and you want to tell your heart not to get its hopes up at his words. This will all change in a week, your relationship is beyond fixing.

Right? "Okay. What about it? You don't like that we have sex when we can't communicate?" You nod, pulling the shorts over your legs and letting the waistband snap around your hips. He nods, fiddling with his watch when you put your hand on his wrist. "I need you to talk to me, Heeseung. You wanted to talk about this." "It's…" He breathes, running a hand through his hair as you pull him to the bed, sitting down as he slots himself between your knees. His fingers toy with the hem of the shorts you're wearing, clearing his throat. "I don't want you to think I don't…enjoy it. I love…being with you, in any way you'll have me." "Uh huh?" You interlace your fingers with his, his eyes avoiding yours. "I…want to stop doing that. I know that it's a big part of how we stay connected, uhm, intimately. I know I haven't been making much time for you outside of the bedroom and that's something I want to work on." You can feel your heart pick up a bit.

"So…you want to stop having sex altogether? Or you'd like to…fight and make up?" You tilt your head, feeling a wave of nervousness begin to seep into your stomach. He shakes his head quickly, "I don't think I could ever…I'd like to fight. A lot. As much as we need to." He blinks rapidly, eyes still avoiding yours when you nod slowly. "And…you want to have sex spontaneously? Do you want to schedule it? Do you want to–" "I'm good with whenever. You can have me anytime you want, even if you don't want to have sex for the next year. I'm all yours, whenever." He interrupts, his cheeks burning pink as he clears his throat. You narrow your eyes, "Oookay. You know that goes both ways, right?" "I don't think you understand the willpower it takes not to be all over you every single second of my waking hours." His eyes are now squeezed shut, and you can feel your own cheeks warm as you feel his fingers flex around yours. You let out a soft ha, before nodding. "O-Okay, sure." "So…we're okay? Can we start taking things a little slower?" He asks with a wince, and you nod. "Absolutely." He nods, "Cool, cool. Uhm…I'll wait in the living room for you, okay? I'll set up the movie." He pulls away with a gentle squeeze to your hands, a soft smile playing on his lips as he ducks out of the bedroom. You feel your stomach sink a bit, but out of relief. You feel…lighter.

You didn't mind the once-a-week sessions with Heeseung. He'd come home, the two of you would be particularly agitated – you because you felt pushed aside, Heeseung because of work, because he didn't have enough time for you, because he just wanted to feel some sort of peace. You'd try and start a conversation, only for him to push you back on the couch or the bed, or even the carpet in your living room and kiss you breathless. His tongue would slip into your mouth with practiced precision, his hand pinning your wrists above your head as he begged you to just let him take care of you.

You didn't mind because every touch from him was just right. His lips dragging against your jaw, his fingers shoved down your pants while he whispered sweet nothings. You don't know if Heeseung remembers any of the things he says during sex – how much he loves you, something he can't openly say when he's fully in his five senses. Despite feeling the way you did about your relationship with Heeseung, sex was never something you had to feel worried about – he would get just as drunk off you as he did his favorite bourbon. Sex with Heeseung was like a rollercoaster, even the very first time. He knew every button to push, every spot to caress, to kiss, to bite. He made you feel like you were swimming in a pool of lust and love and you couldn't help but cry during the middle of it all sometimes, only to feel his tongue carefully collecting your tears. "You're so pretty."

Shivering, you fan at yourself before sliding off your bed, making a beeline to your bathroom. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him softly swaying to yet another jazz song as he drapes one of your favorite blankets across the couch. You can't help but smile inwardly, shutting the door behind you as you look at yourself in the mirror. Sighing, you grab for your face wash, not able to stop thinking.

Heeseung does love you. He does, even if he's not good at saying it. He does, even if it means he bruises the stupid tattoo you got of his initials with how tight he holds your hips. He does, because he lets you claw at his tattoo of your initials on his shoulder. You still remember being drunk out of your mind when you stumbled into the studio to get them done.

And you remember that being the first sign that being with Heeseung was not temporary. You hadn't even had sex at that point in your relationship – choosing to cement your relationship with a permanent reminder. One that you knew was under his shirt even when his ring wasn't on his finger, one he knew was just under your panties even when you were mad at him for not spending time with you.

"Baby! Food's here!"  You hear Heeseung call as you reach for your moisturizer.

Baby. A silly pet name you'd missed dearly, a silly pet name he'd used three times just today. "Coming!" You call, quickly wiping the sink of water and opening the bathroom door, scurrying out. He's sprawled across the couch, the containers of takeout spread out on the coffee table in front of him. His hand is messing with the remote, typing The Devil's Advocate into your Amazon Prime account. 

"Hey." He murmurs, feeling you press a kiss to the crown of his head. He doesn't know why he's so nervous – he's literally seen you naked. You ruffle his hair, before rounding the couch and sitting gingerly on the floor. You didn't like to eat on the couch, Heeseung knew that. You slid in front of him, your shoulders pushing his knees apart as you rested your head on the left one. He says nothing, only leaning back as he presses play on the film.

The silence between you is comfortable. You're chewing carefully, soft gasps from your lips as if you hadn't watched this movie hundreds of times. He can't help but think if this was what he was missing out on while he was at work. You, dressed down in his clothing, holding your mouth open around a particularly overstuffed pork bun as Al Pacino dips his fingers into Holy Water.

"You're cute." He murmurs to himself, and you lean your head back slightly, a bit of hoisin sauce on the corner of your lip as you chew. "Hm?" "You're cute, babe." He shakes his head, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You blink at him, before twisting to look at him properly. Your brows furrow as you swallow, and you click your tongue. You give him a suspicious glance before turning back to the television, shrugging your shoulders as you lean back again.

He likes this. He could get used to it.

Heeseung cleaned up after you finished eating. He even ran the water for your shower, opting to go in after you. You'd pouted, asking him to go in with you – but he insisted he still had things to finish up before he could even think about winding down.

However, when you arrive in the bedroom with your hair wrapped in a towel and a baggy shirt over your shoulders, he can't help but take a peek. He sees the lavender trim of your underwear from his stance in the closet as you bend slightly to fish out a pair of sweatpants, his fingers tightening around the hanger in his hand. It breaks, the crack making you suddenly look up.

"What was that?" Your eyes are wide, scanning him as you pull out a random pair of shorts. He sheepishly hides his hand behind his back, shaking his head quickly. "Nothing, honey. Oh, I saw that you were running out of your serum…thing. The one for your hair, it's in the drawer." He pressed his lips together as he nodded, and you squint at him before opening the top drawer. Sure enough, the Biosilk bottle sits pretty, wrapped in the bag you knew was from the beauty supply store. You take it out, but see Heeseung grimace in the mirror. You peer at him, before seeing the broken hanger in his hand. Rolling your eyes, 

"Maybe if you weren't so busy trying to get a peek at my underwear, you wouldn't have broken that." "Shut up." He scoffs, cheeks heating as he skirts out of the closet, throwing the hanger away in the trashcan by the door. You just shake your head, unwrapping the bottle as he appears next to you. "It's that one, right?" "Yeah, Hee. Thank you." You nod, placing it closer to the mirror. You look up at him through the mirror, noting the way he's gazing at you lovingly. "You're staring." "So?" He shrugs, and you scoff. "Get in the shower, Heeseung. I'm sleepy." "Don't fall asleep without me!" He presses his lips to your temple suddenly, and you don't get a chance to react before he's gone. You hear the door shut behind him, and you quickly grab your phone from its spot on the nightstand, abandoning the shorts you had in your hand on the dresser.

Msg To: Park Sunghoon [9:32pm] please please tell me you won't call hee in to work tmrw

You nibble on your lips, watching as Sunghoon reads the message. His chat bubble pops up, then goes back down. 

Msg From: Park Sunghoon [9:33pm] i'll run it by the guys here in a bit, and i'll let you know. cool?

You don't reply, only giving him a thumbs up reaction. Setting your phone down, you move around for your night routine. Moisturizer, curl cream…before the large bed behind you calls your name as a siren does to shipwrecked pirates.

Flopping face down, you sigh into the pillow. You weren't ready to start working on Monday – you weren't ready to leave the comfort of your home, to talk to people all day about their problems again. You weren't ready for your mother to find out through her connections that you're practicing again.

You weren't ready to stop making two portions of dinner for your husband who wouldn't get home on time, you weren't ready to not be kissed all over in the morning even though he thought you were asleep. You'd never sleep through something so tender.

"Babe, I said don't fall asleep!" You hear Heeseung whine, and you groan into your pillow before flipping onto your back with your eyes closed. "I'm not sleeping! I'm just…resting my eyes." "That's sleeping." He's closer now, and you feel his lips press on your forehead. "It's fine, we have all day tomorrow." "If they don't call you into work." You grumble, and he pinches your cheek, before you feel your husband's lips brush the shell of your ear. "You should never trust Sunghoon to relay a message." "Fuck off!" You whine, shoving him away as you open your eyes. His hair has been dried, his bottom half tucked into a pair of flannel pajama pants. He's holding an old tshirt in his hand as he rounds the bed, "You're not planning on sleeping on top of the duvet, are you?" "Some of us get hot at night." You scowl, but a yelp gets caught in your throat as you feel him yank you to the edge of the bed by your ankle. You narrow your eyes as you look up at him, seeing your husband smiling down at you with a tilt to his head.

"Why the attitude, princess? Something wrong?" 

He's talking down to you, something that makes your cheeks heat. You furrow your brows, scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbows. His hand leaves your ankle, splaying on the skin of your thigh. "Why would anything be wrong?" He shrugs, his smile still digging into your very bones. "I figured I'd ask, since you begged Sunghoon not to call me this weekend." "Sunghoon is a rat, you know this. Remember when you pushed Jay's head into his birthday cake and Sunghoon immediately dogged you? Why would you believe him?" You try to rationalize your way out of answering his questions, but Heeseung nods as if he's understanding. "You're right, baby. I shouldn't believe him, someone who snitches everyone out because he believes there aren't enough honest people in this world." You scoff at his pointed look, knowing that Heeseung likes the little game you play. He likes cornering you, he likes giving you no way out. He likes the way your skin gets a little warmer under his touch.

"Okay, fine. I admit it!" You groan, falling back onto the bed. "God forbid I want to spend some time with my husband before I'm sent away." You drape your arm dramatically over your eyes, hearing Heeseung laugh above you. You hadn't had a night like this in so long, you can nearly feel the stupid butterflies from your college days floating back around you.

"You're going to work, you're not being shipped off to another country." He removes your arm from over your face, revealing your scrunched nose. He kisses the tip of it, seeing your cheeks bloom pink. "Yeah…" You sigh, before gently placing your hands on Heeseung's cheeks. He smiles down at you, "Yeah?" "I'll miss you." You admit, and his eyes soften as he captures your lips softly. His hands move to your hips, squeezing softly as he pulls back. "I'll miss you too, baby. It'll just take some getting used to." "Will you drive me on Monday?" You blurt, seeing his eyes widen as he nods quickly. "Absolutely. How early? Six? Seven?" You did not expect him to agree so fast. "Uhm, I have to be out of here by six-thirty to get there before the clinic opens." Your husband nods, and you watch the way his eyes move around as he does calculations in his head. "So…we'd be up by five?" He nods to himself, and you shrug. "You don't have to, I'm sorry I brought it up." "Kindly shut the hell up." He rolls his eyes, and you mimic his actions, pulling him back down to your lips. You don't say anything, only kissing him gently as his fingers toy with the hem of your underwear. You can tell he's holding back, not wanting to have this moment go like your usual nights together. He can't stop kissing you back though, and you can feel him slightly rutting against your leg.

"You're humping my leg." You whisper into his lips, and he shrugs, his fingers tugging down your underwear in one swift motion. "Don't care. Lie down." He pushes you back, quickly pushing your shirt up your chest until you get the hint and slip it off.

"What happened to taking it slow?" You tease as he kisses down your stomach, hissing as he nips just above your belly button. "This is slow, but if you want me to stop, I will." He looks up at you, eyes dark. You shake your head, earning another nip from his teeth.

"Words, princess." You flush deeper, nibbling on your lip as you speak. "Keep going." He raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. "Please." "You're such a brat." He rolls his eyes, before sinking to his knees on the carpet. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed by your knees, one of your legs over his shoulder as he kisses down your thighs. You're squirming, earning a quick slap to your leg. "Stop." "S-Sorry." You mumble, feeling him nose at your pussy. He inhales deeply, a groan from his lips as he places a soft kiss on your clit, a sharp breath caving your stomach in. "Pretty, always so pretty for me." 

You don't get a chance to respond to his muttering, feeling his tongue drag purposefully through your folds. You sigh shakily, your fingers finding his hand that rested on your stomach. He laces your fingers together as he licks at you with an agonizingly slow place.

"F-faster." You whine, feeling him smile into your wet heat. "I said I'd take it slow, princess. You can wait, right? Be a good girl f'me." You suck in yet another sharp breath as his pouty lips wrap around your clit, his hand squeezing yours gently as you whimper. Your hips grind carefully against his tongue, taking all your willpower to not beg him to touch you more. "Missed you. Missed this." He murmurs, letting go of your hand to pull you impossibly closer, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he fucks his tongue into your aching center.

"M-Missed you." You whine, your hand finding home in his hair. "Pull it." He mutters into your pussy, and you tug harshly as he groans into you. The vibrations are torture, your whimpers filling the room. He takes his time, and you can feel your thighs threatening to close around his head.

"Want m-more. P-Please?" You gasp out, and you almost feel angry at the way your husband chuckles. "What happened to taking it slow? You're that needy? Can't cum like this?" You huff, yanking on his hair – earning a low moan. He obliges anyway, slipping his pants down as he stands. He towers over you, your eyes wide at his glistening lips as his hand snakes down between your legs. You shake your head, pulling it away as he laughs breathily. "Baby, I can't–" "I can take it. Please? I can, I promise." You beg, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He watches as you lick them clean, your tongue snaking around his wedding band. You're really and truly his for the taking, loving, fucking.

He shudders, leaning to kiss you softly. Your lips only taste of sin, your tongue sliding into his mouth with practiced ease. He groans quietly, his hard cock sliding against your soaked cunt as you whimper into his mouth. “Please, please—”

“I know baby, I know.” He murmurs, sinking into you slowly with a choked moan. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, feeling your shaky breathing against his neck. He gives an experimental roll of his hips, relishing in the burn of your nails dragging down his back with a groan. Pushing your hands off him, he pins them above your head, interlocking your fingers.

"I love you." His lips are pressed to yours before you can respond, hips snapping at a menacing pace. Your breath gets caught in your throat, pressing your bare chest to his as he trails his mouth down your jaw. "Can never get enough of you." His soft whispers receive nothing but your whines, your hand squeezing his as he mouthed at whatever skin he could reach. "Could never ask for a better woman." He whispers into your ear, his teeth nipping tirelessly in efforts to burn himself into you forever.

"Can never get you off my mind. Think about you all day, baby." He lets go of your hands, circling his fingers around your thighs and spreading them further. You clench around him, your hands covering your face as a whine slips from his throat, fucking into you harder.

"W-Wanna live in this pussy, fuck." He groans, feeling your gummy walls tighten around him, his hand snaking down to play with your clit. Your moan is sharp, thighs threatening to close around his hips but he forces them apart as your eyes gloss over. "Need you to cum f'me, pretty. N-Need you to cream all over this dick." You open your mouth to speak, only to have it covered by his lips as he leans down to kiss you. He sucks on your tongue messily, feeling your fingers rake through his hair as you pull him back, mouthing at his neck. "W-Want you to cum inside m-me." You mumble, feeling his hips stutter against the swell of your ass, but he quickly falls back into rhythm.

"Y-Yeah? Fuck, want me to fill you up? I'll give you everything, baby. Anything you want, shit–" He whines into your neck, spurred on by your soft whimpers of yeah, yeah – your nails dragging across his back once more, your fingers digging into his tattoo of your initials almost angrily. Your release rips through you with a loud whine, coating his thighs and soaking into the sheets, clenching like a vice around him as he straightens himself.

"Shit, honey–" His eyes are low as he tucks his lip between his teeth, pushing your knees to your chest as he pounds into you, pulling sobs from your throat as he fucks you through your orgasm. His head falls forward as he cums inside you, his fingers finding yours and squeezing like his life depends on it. 

"Fuck." He mutters, pressing his forehead to your chest, the room filling with sounds of your panting and his lips trailing wetly along your shoulders and neck. "When did you…have you ever done that before?" "I don't think so." You breathe out, and his skin feels sticky but he doesn't care. "What…" He straightens, bearing his weight on his elbows as he peers down at you. You're glowing softly, your eyes slightly lower than when you'd started, lips swollen from his teeth pulling at them. "What changed? How can I be better?" Your cheeks flush deeper, shaking your head gently. "I don't–" "C'mon. What was it? You've never had complaints before." He says pointedly, and you smile. "Nothing to complain about, you always do well." "But?" He probes, his eyes locked on yours, and you sigh, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. "I don't know, Hee. I guess…I just like when you talk to me." Communication.

His eyes narrow as he thinks, thinking back to all the times you've had sex. He's sure he's spoken to you then, likely incoherent, pussydrunk babbles–

"When you said…" Your voice fades, closing your eyes as you shake your head. "Nevermind." "I could never ask for a better woman." 

It dawns on him, looking back down at you. Your eyes avoid his as you gently thumb at a red line down his shoulder, cause of your fingernails, but he tilts your face with his hand. His fingers squish the fat of your cheeks, a tear slipping from your eyes as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. "I could never ask for a better woman, my love." Your eyes flutter closed as he peppers kisses across your face, tears continuing to fall as he kisses your cheeks. "I love you, okay? I'm so fucking sorry for making you feel like you're not the most important thing to me in this world. I'd die for you, I'd kill for you, okay?" You nod silently, but your lip curls into a smile as he buries his face into your neck. "I'm not a thing, Hee." "Shut up." He whines, and you laugh. "I love you, too. I could never ask for a better man, ever." "God, don't. We won't leave this bed." He groans, and you nip at his earlobe, sucking it gently. "You promise?"

Monday, 5:32am.

He did promise.

You and Heeseung did not leave your bedroom once on Sunday. Well, he did – when he grabbed the food delivery you ordered, and to get you water on multiple occasions. You changed your sheets twice only to ruin them again, the sex messier and wetter the longer you and Heeseung went at it. He took everything you gave him in any position he could fold you into – but nothing beat seeing you laid out on your back, his fingers bruised into your hips and love bites blooming all over your body. He liked admiring you from above, sure – but he loved nothing more than his face shoved between your legs, suffocated by your warm, wet heat.

Your whimpers were burned into his mind, so much so he could hardly leave you alone when night approached. You practically had to beg him to get in the shower, his only request being that you join him. 

By join him, he meant pressing you against the tiles and sinking his teeth into your neck and shoulders as he slid himself through your thighs over and over again. He bit down your back mercilessly, sinking to his knees behind you and lapping his tongue against your cum-coated cunt like a man starved.

Needless to say, the water ran cold and you had shampoo in your hair for an hour.

He didn't care, though. He kissed you deeply, wanting to feel every inch of you all over him before bidding you goodnight. He wanted to wake up early and make you breakfast, he wanted to pick out your pretty blouse and your heels. He wanted to be involved in your life.

"Rise and shine, baby." He whispered into your hair, holding a plate in his left hand as he pinched the fat of your cheek in the other. You groan, pushing his hand away as you roll onto your back. The duvet slips down, revealing your bitten skin. He caresses it gently, his eyes glued to your face as he goes lower. Your hand catches his wrist before he can cup your breast, peeling your eyes open reluctantly.

"I can't let you near me, you'll fuck me into the mattress." You mutter, making him smile. "Maybe don't beg me to cum inside you, and I'll leave you alone." He holds up the plate in his hand, his chest swelling at your blushing cheeks. "I made breakfast, can you get up now? I want to pick your clothes!" Your eyes widen slightly as you sit up, letting the duvet pool around your belly button as you wipe at your inner corners. "Really? You want to?" "I love seeing you dressed up for work, babe. Can I? I'll make it pretty, I promise." He draws an x over his chest, and he notices how you can't bite back a smile as you take the plate from him. He turns away as you reach for the bedside lamp, clicking it on as he practically skips into your shared closet.

"You're really chipper…" You trail off, shoveling a peach slice into your mouth. He shrugs, holding up two shirts before putting them back. "It's your first day, and I read something a few years ago about marital ambiance. If I'm in a crappy mood, it'll rub off on you. We can't have that, can we?" He smiles widely as he pulls out a black dress you hadn't worn in ages – the sleeves were long and slightly flared, and the flowy skirt ended just above your knee. The neck was high, so you wouldn't be exposing any of your weekend shenanigans. "This one? Haven't seen this in, what, two years?" "We can try that one, yeah." You speak around a mouthful of oatmeal, and he nods as he turns to your shoes. "Are you walking a lot? Or can we go for the Hot Chicks?" He holds up the black leather heels, and you just smile and shake your head. "I'll take my slippers anyway, so we can go with the Hot Chicks." 

"I checked the temperature outside, it'll be a little chilly until lunch time. Do you want pantyhose? Stockings?" He drapes the dress over his arm as he worms out of the closet, placing your shoes on the dresser as he opens a drawer. You like the sight of your husband like this. Excited for you, eager to see you take a step forward after being (willingly) stagnant for so long. You were afraid that maybe he'd discourage it – you'd overheard him talking to Sunghoon once about how your last job nearly made you lose your mind, and how worried he'd been about you.

He wasn't wrong, either – the fact that your impact felt so minuscule just made you feel like you were at home away from home. It felt like your marriage at the time, it felt like you were sixteen again talking to your mother about your dreams and being shut down. It felt bad, ugly.

You finish your breakfast and get dressed as your husband gets ready, his suit jacket the exact same shade of black as your dress, his button-up that cherry red that makes you ache with want. His slacks are pressed, his hair carefully styled as he appears behind you moments later, holding a flat iron to your head.

"No curls today, babe?" He leans against the doorway, and you smile shyly. "No, I think I want something sleek. The curls are not looking too good this morning." "Yeah?" He's not listening, running his eyes down your backside. "Hee. Stop." "I'm just looking, baby." He smiles, and you ignore the way his eyes raking across you make you feel warm. "Well, stop looking. I can't be late, not today." "So, tomorrow?" He asks, and you scoff as you pull the iron down the last strand of hair, running over the ends twice before tossing it over your shoulder. You roll your eyes, unplugging the tool as your husband's hands run over your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. Swatting his hands away, you leave the iron to cool as you turn around. 

"Heeseung, I'm serious." You're nose to nose with your husband, who only smiles down at you. "One kiss." "In the car, after my lipstick, when you drop me off." You propose, and he shakes his head. "Right here, right now, before your lipstick and you let me go down on you." "You're insane!" You laugh, pushing him out of the way – but not before he lands a soft smack to the swell of your ass. "Stop! Let me get ready!" "Fine, fine! I'll make coffee." He scoffs, turning on his heel and going down the hallway. 

You shake your head to yourself, wandering back into your bedroom and slipping your jewelry on. Small gold hoops, the same necklace you wore every single day. Your wedding rings, one silver ring with the letter H on your middle left, and one on your right pinky with Heeseung's and your birthstones. A watch that was a gift from your father on your graduation day, the leather band slightly worn and molded to your wrist.

You hear a soft whistle from the doorway, and look up to see your husband biting his lip. "Are you sure you can't be a little late?" "Dude." You roll your eyes, watching Heeseung set down your silver tumbler on the dresser. He slides behind you as you check your earrings carefully, pressing his hips into your ass. “Did you call me dude yesterday? Could’ve sworn it was another word that started with—”

“Heeseung, you’re on thin ice.” You glare at him through the mirror, feeling him grind against you. “It’s almost like I can still hear you.” He hums against your shoulder, pressing a quick kiss before moving your hair out of the way, trailing gently up your neck and nipping at your ear.

“Please, daddy. Want you so bad.” He mocks you, watching your expression change in the mirror. You huff, your cheeks burning as you look away. “Don’t be shy, it was cute. You’re cute, baby.”

“Stop.” You murmur, before feeling his hand gently tilt your face towards his. He kisses you deeply, moving his hand lower slowly. Squeezing your neck softly, you whimper into his mouth before he pulls away, biting your lower lip and watching it spring back. “We’ll run this back later, yeah?”

You nod, earning a smile and a chaste kiss. “C’mon. It’s almost six-fifteen.”

He pushes off of you, his hand lingering on your hip before he leaves the bedroom. You sigh shakily, your fingers fumbling for your lipstick as you hear him jingle his car keys. You shove it into your dress pocket, grabbing your shoes and coffee cup off the dresser and exiting the bedroom.

You shove your shoes on as you reach the foyer, watching Heeseung pull your coat out of the hall closet. “I prepped your bag before I made breakfast, can you check it?”

Everything is there. You let him slip your coat on, pressing a kiss to your cheek and carefully fixing your hair. “What time are you off?”

“I’ll call you?” You say, and he nods. “Ten minutes before?”

“You got it.”

Neither of you say much else as you take a deep breath, opening your front door and stepping out together. You hold Heeseung’s sleeve as he locks the door, your other hand gripping the tumbler he prepared for you.

He turns, interlocking your fingers with his and bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You ready?”

You smile nervously, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Heeseung dropped you off a minute to seven, and even walked you to the doors of your clinic. He waited patiently as you applied your lipstick, puckering his lips cutely for his kiss goodbye. You pressed another to his cheek for good luck.

The day went smoothly. Your first two patients were two young men, both in their early twenties. One with dyed blond hair, the other with a dark brown perm. Both had tired eyes and chapped lips, bitten fingernails. The blond had a tattoo of a girl’s name on his forearm, the brunet two rings through his eyebrow.

Heeseung’s habit of jotting down small details has rubbed off on you.

Your last patient was set to arrive any minute, and you found yourself feeling uneasy. You kept changing the music you played, settling on Paradise by Sade. You smoothed the felt on the patient couch several times, even drawing a pattern in the fabric before hearing the soft knock on the door.

“Come in!”

A woman opens the door a crack, dark brown eyes peering in. Thickly lashed and lined with kohl, she presses her lips into a thin line before opening the door wider. You stand, smoothing your dress before offering your hand.

“I’m Dr. Lee. You must be—”

“I’m Jeon Chaeyoung. It’s on my file.” She mutters, bypassing your extended hand. She sits on the edge of the couch, and you brush it off. A lot of patients were standoffish at first — getting comfortable with someone you were going to share your problems with was always something difficult, you understood that.

“Yes, I know. I’m glad to meet you, I—”

“Can we just get into it? I don’t want all the formalities.” She cuts you off, and you try not to look discouraged as you settle into your chair. “Of course. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

She sighs, picking at her maroon polish. Something about her is off, something is oddly familiar, but you don’t know what. You notice her widow’s peak has been shaved off, and her teeth are a little too well shaped not to be veneers. 

“Well, I’m twenty-eight. I dropped out of university when I was nineteen, and I left my hometown at the same time. Haven’t spoken to anyone since, and I moved to this town last year with my husband.”

You nod slowly, tapping your pen against your notepad. You glance at her file, seeing that she had a few name changes in the last three years. Twice — Jeon Chaeyoung, before that she was Cha Chaeyoung.

Before that, Cha Soyoung.

You choke on your saliva, coughing harshly into your fist. She looks startled, her hands out as you reach for the pitcher of water on the coffee table. You pour shakily, coughing off the side before picking the glass up and taking a sip.

“S-Sorry, sorry. Had a little something. You moved here last year?”

Her eyes are suspicious as you pour another glass for her, sliding it across the table. She takes it tentatively, taking a small sip before holding it in her hands.

“Yeah. I…ran away, I guess. I felt so much pressure from everyone around me. My mother wanted me to be a bigshot lawyer, my father wanted me to take over his company on top of that. My best friend…” She trails off, and you hope she can’t sense how nervous you are. 

“He…ugh. He was so patient and understanding, and he tried so hard to understand me. He was there for me through every bad moment of my life — my mother pressing me to be successful, my father wanting me to take over his company. I couldn’t handle it.”

“So you left. You left everything behind and you started anew.” You say slowly, and she nods, her eyes teary. “I even changed my name. I knew he would look for me, I just disappeared without telling anyone. I think he gave up, but I still…”

She wipes at her nose, and you quickly offer tissues from the table. She takes a few, dabbing at her eyes before the kohl can run. She has the same look in her eyes as your first two patients — tired, scared. Even a bit…remorseful.

“I got surgeries to change the way I look, you know. I have a nose job, can you tell?” She turns to the side, and you can. You can tell, the way her nose no longer has the soft button look, but the straight bridge with pointed tip. But she doesn’t know you know that.

“Not that you’d know, sorry.” She laughs nervously, balling the tissues in her hands. You smile warmly at her. “I got my teeth done. And I even got half a syringe of filler in my lips.”

She puckers them, the clear gloss still shiny against the pink skin. You nod, “They look good, though. How do you feel about the changes? Do you feel more confident?”

She shakes her head, “No. I did it…to hide, I guess. I didn’t want my best friend to find me, I didn’t want anyone to find me. I went into hiding as long as I could, hoping my parents would just forget about me.”

“Mmh. I saw your file, and you said you’ve…changed your name. Why, exactly? Did you want to leave behind the person that was…Soyoung?” You tap the file, trying not to show the way her name makes your tongue taste sour, and she sighs. “They opened a Missing Persons case for me. It made everything a lot harder, you know? I just wanted to disappear and start a new life doing something menial. I know it sounds stupid—”

“Stupid?” You scoff, crossing your legs. “Nothing you feel is stupid, Chaeyoung. Everything and anything you’ve ever felt is valid. The need to run when things get too stressful, wanting to hide away from societal pressures. Everything, it’s valid.”

She lets out a shaky sob, covering her mouth as she breathes in. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! You’re just a human being. No one can get upset at you for not knowing how to navigate everything, this is your first time on Earth.” You shrug, and she peers up at you through teary eyes. “Can you tell me about yourself? M-Maybe it’ll be easier to get comfortable.”

“Sure!” You smile, eager to give her an update on Heeseung, despite her not knowing. “I’ve been married for seven years. I met my husband when we were nineteen, and we started dating a little after that. I was a stay-at-home wife for the last few years, because my job…”

She stares at you intently, and you rub your neck. “I didn’t feel fulfilled. My mother, quite like yours, had a lot of pressure on me. I was her only daughter, and she wanted so much. She wanted me to marry for money, and she wanted me to pursue a law degree.”

You smile sadly, and she nods. “Did you marry for money?”

“Not at all. I made more than my husband did in my first year as a therapist.” You laugh, remembering how you and Heeseung cheered as the two of you finally had enough saved for a new mattress. It was a silly stepping stone but the two of you were ecstatic.

“What does your mom think of you now? Do you keep in contact with her?” She tilts her head at you, and you shrug. “I don’t care what she thinks, and she doesn’t speak to me. She works distantly with my husband, so he sees her more often than I do. She’s an attorney for the city we live in.”

Chaeyoung nods, slowly. She pulls her phone out, typing quickly and scrolling before turning her screen towards you. It’s a picture of her and Heeseung smiling as kids. They’re dressed as Team Rocket from Pokémon, posing with V-signs next to their winked eyes.

“This is him. He’s my best friend. I haven’t spoken to him since I left.” She sniffles, and you can’t hide the way your smile falters. You feel your stomach sink a bit, realizing that she would always know Heeseung far more than you ever would. She grew up with him, she matched Halloween costumes with him. She held his hand trick-or-treating, she dyed his hair for the first time in grade nine. 

She kissed him when they were seventeen, for the first time ever.

“Are you okay?” She asks, pulling her phone away. You nod quickly, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just had some memories. I was super into Pokémon as a kid, but I moved around a lot and could never make friends over it.”

It’s not a lie. You collected the cards, played the video games, and watched the Indigo League.

“Do you and your husband have kids? My husband wants to have kids soon.” She mentions, and you shake your head. “No, not yet. We talked about it yesterday, actually.”

You had, in depth. While you were eating the shitty takeout from the diner down the road, he’d asked you. You admitted that you were open to having kids, but wanted to fix your marriage first. He agreed, but mentioned that getting off your birth control would take time to get used to. You nodded in response, saying you’d make an appointment with your doctor and the two of you could go from there.

“But us, first. Okay?” He’d said, holding his pinky out to you. You’d smiled and linked your fingers, “Us first.”

“This is my husband. His name is Jungkook.” She pulls up a photo of a particularly tattooed man, pressing his lips to her temple. He has a lip ring, and several rings through his ears. “He’s cute! Do you feel loved? Fulfilled?”

“Funnily enough, I do. I don’t feel any of the stress or pressure to be…perfect. He…gets me. He engages me, he makes me laugh. We dance together a lot, he sings me to sleep.” She nods, smiling at the photo. “Can I see your husband? Or is that too far?”

You try not to show your hesitation, but the words tumble out before you can stop them.

"Maybe next time, yeah?" She nods quickly, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable–" "Not at all! My husband is just particular, you know. His job stops him from really being a prolific person." You smile, shaking your head as you tap your notepad. It's true, you and Heeseung hardly posted things about yourselves or your relationship on social media. Your friends were all very private due to the nature of their jobs, and it'd do you well to follow that.

The rest of the session goes on without many more slip-ups. She focuses on telling you about her relationship with her husband, how he proposed. Their intimate elopement in his hometown, with just his friends and their girlfriends. You can't count how many times you heard her mention a couple named Jimin and Jeongyeon.

You can't focus on anything but the color of her eyes. How deep they are, how much of her story they hold. You're certain Heeseung would be able to figure her out in a split second, just by looking into them.

"You're very good at this, you know." She says as she tugs her jacket on, and you don't remember her ever taking it off. The hour she booked is almost up, and she looks a lot lighter than when she came in. You can feel the weight of her confessions, the weight of knowing she was alive and well after years of searching for her on your own shoulders.

You don't know if, or when, you should, or could – tell your husband.

"Good at what?" You tilt your head, and she gives you a quizzical look. "At creating a nice environment to share my struggles. I know I mostly talked about my husband, but…it felt nice. To tell someone about him and not have them tell me they already know that about him." You smile inwardly, knowing exactly what she means. "Yeah. My husband…his best friends are also mine. Can't really talk about all his weird little habits without them knowing exactly what I'm talking about." "Oh? You don't have friends of your own?" She tilts her head, and you laugh. "I mean, yeah. But I tend to spend most of my time with my husband. It's like…a really good amusement park. I wanna go on all the rides with him, you know?" She smiles, but you see a slight flash of judgment in her eyes. Feeling your cheeks burn, you clear your throat, closing her file and putting it on the table. "Should I expect to see you here next week, Chaeyoung?" "I'd like that, Dr. Lee. My husband said he'd wait for me, so I'm going to go ahead and relieve him." She nods, before standing. You do as well, walking her to the entrance. She turns on the steps, "Thank you for listening to me." "Any time, Chaeyoung." You bid her a goodbye, watching as she walks out of the clinic with her hands in her pockets to a black station wagon. Leaning on your doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest, you see her husband get out, seeing the way he towers over her. He smiles down at her, tucking her hair behind her ear before pressing a kiss to her forehead. You can make out his lips asking How was it? 

And her own saying I'm coming back next week. I really like this one, honey.

You feel your chest ache as he opens her door, pressing another kiss to her cheek as she pulls her seatbelt on. He shuts the door, and circles back to the driver's side. He looks up, catching your eye. He tilts his head, before smiling and opening his door. He gives you a quick wave, and you put your fingers up as he reverses out of his parking spot.

It looked so easy for them.

She looked so easy to love, he looked so eager to love her. Did people look at you and Heeseung that way, too? Did they think that about you? Sighing, you turn into your office, stretching your arms over your head. You moved around, tidying up as the music you played switched to something that reminded you more of your husband – specifically, No Song Without You by HONNE.

He'd played this song almost every day when the two of you began dating. You remember this song playing in the restaurant you had your third date at. You remember this song playing in the car when he picked you up for your twentieth birthday. You remember this song playing when he asked you to be his girlfriend, and ending just moments before he kissed you for the first time. You remember this song playing when he took you out to the flower field he proposed in. You remember his teary eyes as he knelt down before you, one of the biggest displays of emotion you'd ever seen in him. Most of all, you remember him saying there is no him without you.

You don't realize you've been standing in the same spot for the last two minutes until you hear your phone ring on the desk. You rush to it, picking up the call before even looking at the caller ID.

"This is Dr. Lee." You say, fumbling with Chaeyoung's file and the cabinet. You open it before hearing your husband snort on the other end. "Hello, Dr. Lee. This is Lieutenant Lee, I'm calling on behalf of your taxi service." "Yah! You're not my taxi." You scoff, shoving the file into the J section. He laughs, "I'm outside, baby. You didn't call, so I got worried. I picked up something light, are you almost done?" "Shit, I'm sorry. D'you want to come inside? I still have things to wrap up." You screw your eyes shut, your fingers rubbing at your temples. "Yeah, sure. I'll be right there."

It doesn't take long for your husband to appear at your door, holding his badge in his hand as you type on your computer. You give him a quizzical look, before turning back to the screen. "Did the janitor give you a hard time?"

"You could say that." He shakes head, setting his keys and phone down on your coffee table. He's holding the bag of food in his hand, and you gesture to the room. "It's nice, isn't it?" He looks around, putting the bag on your desk before opening it. "It's a lot bigger than your old office. I like the green…is that Take Me by Miso?" His ears perk at the new song playing through the speakers, and you sigh, nodding your head as you slump in your chair. He nods along to the song before rounding the desk, and pressing a kiss to your hairline. "You don't look very happy, honey. Did something happen?" His hands find your shoulders as he stands behind you, and you move your mouse all over the screen. "Nothing, I'm just rebooking a patient. She…something about her. I don't know." You know your conscience won't let you hide this from Heeseung very long. Granted, you're protected by the law if you do tell him, and it's the right thing to do.

Something in your heart doesn't feel right.

"Jeon Chaeyoung." He reads, and you nod. "Jeon Chaeyoung." "What's her deal?" He asks, making you pout up at him. "If I tell you, I'm violating our patient-provider contract." He gives you a confused look, before leaning down, brushing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm sensing a but, here." You sigh, exiting the schedule and turning the monitor off. "Let me make a scenario for you, yeah?" You stand, kicking your heels off as you walk onto the carpet under the coffee table. He nods slowly, before moving to the patient couch, taking a seat as you pace.

"Let's say, you're looking at someone in a line-up, yes?" You turn to him, and he nods. "Okay. What am I looking for?" "Something familiar. You know the perpetrator and you've known them for ages. I mean, damn near your entire life." 

Heeseung's eyes scan your face, before humming. He leans back, resting his elbows against the back of the couch. "We have a saying about eyes, I guess. That they never lie, you know. Eyes are the windows to the soul and what not." 

"So if I show you a picture of me and a bunch of other people, and cover everything but our eyes, you'd know which one I am?" You feel like you're starting to sound a bit like a maniac, but your husband nods. "Of course I would. I love your eyes. I look at them all the time."

You nod quickly, before breathing out shakily. "When you were nine, what did you dress up as for Halloween?" "What?" He scoffs out a laugh, "What does that have anything to do with what we were just talking about?"

You kneel in front of him, and he sits up quickly, taking in your serious expression. "Babe, what is going on?" "Did you match with Soyoung?" You murmur, picking at his slacks. "Were you Jesse from Team Rocket?"

Heeseung's brow furrows as he takes your hands, the clink of your rings grabbing your attention. "Y/N?" "It's her. She changed her name and she changed her face but it's her, Hee. I know it is, I can tell by her eyes and she showed me the two of you dressed up for Halloween as kids. That picture your mom has framed in her office." You squeeze your eyes shut, sinking back from him. His fingers squeeze yours gently before he scoffs. "Y/N…Honey, I really, really need you to think about what you're telling me right now." "I am, Heeseung! This is just as important to me, you know that! Countless sleepless nights, thousands of posters put up every single weekend just for her to waltz into my office today and tell me about her life!" You rip your hands from his, standing and walking to the file cabinet. You fish her file out, opening it and thrusting it into his hands.

He takes it reluctantly, his eyes scanning the file with a frown on his lips. 

Emergency Contact: Jeon Jungkook –  Cell: 010-1997-090 Work: 010-2013-0613 Relationship to Patient: Spouse

"She's married." He mumbles, flipping to the next page to her insurance information. He sees her name changes, before and after her marriage. His tongue pokes his cheek gently as you sit next to him, your ankles crossed as you sigh.

"This is rather anticlimactic." You mumble, leaning your head against his shoulder. He hums in response, thumbing the print of her electronic signature. "She never used to write her C's like this." He flicks the file, before closing it. "What happens now?" Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you feel him sigh before leaning his head on yours. "Nothing. Legally, she doesn't have to report her reappearance. She's an adult." You look up at your husband, who has a surprisingly underwhelmed look on his face. He's nibbling on his lip as he gently tosses the file onto the coffee table. You rest your chin on his shoulder, scanning his face before he looks down at you.

"You seem tired." You say softly, and he closes his eyes. "I am. I'm so tired, honey." "You don't feel any sort of way about this? I can refer her to another clinic. I can–" "I just want to go home, Y/N." He shakes his head, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You allow it, moving to sit in his lap and feeling his hands drop to your waist. "I don't have…I can't…" You look down at him, seeing the way he angrily blinks back tears as he tries to find the words he needs. Your hands gently cup his cheeks as he sighs frustratedly, burying his face in your chest. You can feel your stomach flip as he tries to breathe deeply, his shoulders tight as you wrap your arms around them. He sniffles, resting his forehead on your clavicle, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Is it wrong to be angry at her?" He mumbles shakily, and you quickly shake your head. "No. She left, and she told me it was willingly. She came back, just a thirty-minute drive from home and she didn't tell you. You're allowed to be upset." "Then why do I feel shitty about it?" His voice trembles as he looks up at you, teary eyes full of resentment and bitterness, but behind it all is a 19-year-old boy who lost his best friend from night to the morning. You coo softly, your thumb moving to swipe under his eye as he pouts.

"Because you wanted things to be different. Finding out she's okay through me…probably wasn't the way you imagined it'd happen. Maybe you had an idea of her showing up to the precinct, or to your parents' house looking for you. Maybe you saw that she's married to someone else and it hurts you, maybe you have some underlying feelings." You shrug, not noticing the way your husband's eyes narrow at your words.

"Y/N, are you hearing yourself right now?" He scoffs, gently pushing you away from him. His hands rest on your thighs, nibbling on the corner of his lip as you give him a confused look. "What?" "Did you just seriously try and equate my feelings about this entire situation to me having some sort of weird fantasy about being with her?"

You blink twice, only for Heeseung to huff out a humorless laugh before gently removing you off his lap. He stands, grabbing his keys and wallet off the table before tapping the file. "Let's go home." "Hee–" "Let's go." He sighs, fingers grabbing the bag of dinner that you're sure had gone cold by now. He waits by the door as you gather your things, holding your coat in his hand as you slide your heels back on. "Heeseung–" "Turn around. It's cold outside." His voice isn't harsh or mean, but you can tell he doesn't want to speak unless it's absolutely necessary. You reluctantly let him slide your coat on for you, feeling his lips pressed to your temple quickly. He opens the office door, carefully pushing you out first and turning the lights off behind him.

"Can I drive?" You hold your hand out for the keys, and he sighs before dropping them in your hand. You walk quickly towards the exit, not bothering to bid the janitor a good night as you nearly threw the door open. You could feel your stomach turn as you reached the car, Heeseung still trailing behind you when his voice cut through the air.

"Walking that quickly won't get you away from this conversation, babe." You tongue your cheek, waiting for your husband to appear next to you in front of the SUV you shared. His hand squeezed your hip gently, before pulling you close. "What are you running from, hm?" The conversation where you tell me that our marriage is over and you want out because your best friend is back in the picture, you think. You shrug, shaking your head as he pulls open the driver's side door. He sighs as you skirt around him, pulling yourself into the seat without his help. He doesn't let you close the door, wedging himself in to buckle in your seatbelt for you.

"You say some really fucked up shit sometimes, you know." He murmurs, and you feel your cheeks hot as you reach around him to stick the keys in the ignition. His hand on your cheek stops you, forcing you to look at him. "I thought we said we'd work on this. On us." "I don't want to do this here." You reply shortly, not recognizing your own tone of voice as your husband's eyes widen before he tongues his cheek. "Fine." The drive is silent, the radio turned off by your fingers the moment you managed to get the car started. Heeseung sits in the passenger side, staring out the window with a tick in his jaw you'd only ever really seen a few times, but you remember most during your first fight. It'd been two days before your first anniversary, and it'd been over the dumbest thing ever – his phone dying and you freaking out when he showed up late to your early celebration. He'd apologized profusely but you didn't want to talk about it then, just like you don't want to talk now.

Heeseung is out of the car before you even manage to park fully, careful not to slam the door as he rounds the car, opening your door and taking your bag. You reluctantly let him help you down, and he takes the keys to open the door without a word. Your home is still warm and inviting, but something about the cold demeanors floating around the two of you makes it feel like you're not even there.

"Are you hungry?" He asks quietly, and you shake your head. "No." "You had lunch at noon, why are you lying?" He scoffed, pulling his jacket off as you tongued your cheek, "I'm not. You're just assuming things." "What is the problem, Y/N? Suddenly Soyoung…Chaeyoung reappears and you want to act like this? Did we not just have several lengthy conversations about fixing our relationship?" He grabs your elbow gently as you move to walk away, and you can't help but look at him with a frown on your face. "That was then, and this is now." "Why are you being like this? Babe." Heeseung pulls you toward him, and you huff in frustration as you try to weasel from his gasp. "You're acting like I'm some insecure housewife who needs you to coddle her. I'm not insecure, and even if I was, there's nothing you can do about it. Who cares? Why do you even care?" Heeseung gapes at you, before his hands circle your wrists so you can't move away from him. "Hello? Because I love you? Do I need another reason to want to understand why the woman I've been with for almost a decade is suddenly acting like she hates me?" 

"Me? Hate you? Be fucking serious." You scoff, and Heeseung's eyes narrow. "Then tell me what the hell is going on in your mind, because I'm not a mind reader. I cannot fix a problem if you don't tell me what it is." "Oh, but if I were Soyoung–" You start, but stop the moment his eyes meet yours. They're full of hurt and a hint of anger, a singular tear spilling from them before he drops your wrists with a click of his tongue. "Don't."

His voice is soft, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he turns away from you, before shrugging his suit jacket off. He sighs shakily, and you feel your throat burn as you step out of your heels, placing them quietly on the shoe rack by the door. You purse your lips, taking a deep breath before turning on your heel, moving towards your bedroom before the tears spill from your eyes.

You didn't know what to do to stop the feeling of despair from clawing at you. And you felt stupid, thinking that you needed to even allow that feeling into your chest. You and Heeseung had spoken in depth on Sunday about your relationship – when you weren't pinned under him or vice versa. You talked about having kids, you talked about your parents, you talked about each other. He admitted to you that Dr. Bahng had told him to take some time off for the two of you before the year ended, and that he'd talk to his Captain about submitting the paperwork for a vacation sometime this week.

He admitted that he wholly believes marrying you was one of the best decisions he's ever made, and profusely apologized for his inability to cherish you the way you deserved. He held you closely as his promises to do better rained over you, and you promised the same.

He admitted to feeling his heart racing in his chest the day he met you, but was too consumed with guilt about Chaeyoung to ever bring it up, and his crush on you started developing soon after. He admitted that you made him overthink every step he took, every word he said – so much so that he figured it was just better to push you away than tell you about his feelings. The two of you recounted how Sunghoon made the two of you meet him at the campus cafe with the premise that he needed help on an assignment – only to ditch you with a frown, and figure your shit out falling from his lips as he left with Jake.

You brought up how he'd gaped at Sunghoon, and the way you awkwardly picked at your nails before confessing that you had a little crush on him. The way you rambled about knowing that his circumstances were really shitty, that you completely understood if he didn't feel the same, and that you were sorry Sunghoon put the two of you in this situation. Heeseung had only smiled as he nodded along to your words, before abruptly interrupting you to ask if you were free that following Friday. You had been, and he picked you up at seven for a date – an arcade, where the two of you jokingly did a Love Test-O-Meter and got the highest level. The two of you had scrunched your noses, but you both had deep blushes across your cheeks as the other patrons woo'd you. After, you went back to his dorm and ordered takeout, before promptly getting intoxicated on a bottle of gin stolen from Jay and watched horror films for hours before you passed out on his bed holding hands.

The rest? History.

You're struggling to pull your dress zipper down when Heeseung enters the room, his fingers gently tugging the zipper down your back without a word. You hear the gentle jazz music playing in your living room as he shuffles towards the closet, unbuttoning his shirt before hanging it back up. His hand reaches for one of the towels on the shelves, before taking another out and placing it on the bed.

A silent invitation to join him in the shower, if you so felt like it.

You hesitated, watching the way he gathered his pajamas and tucks them under his arm, the urge to follow after him far too strong as you stepped out of your dress, letting it pool on the floor. You kicked it away with a huff, before stripping entirely and grabbing the towel and your robe off the back of your bedroom door. You linger at the bathroom door, hearing the water start to pour and the sound of the shower curtain being pulled open. You walk in silently, setting your things down on the counter as Heeseung undid his belt, hanging it up on the hook by the door. You make a mental note to take it out when you leave, he'll forget it and not wear it for weeks until he sees it again. He tilts his head towards the shower as he peels off his undershirt, signaling for you to get in while he gets undressed.

The water is hot against your skin, and you close your eyes with an inward sigh. He steps in moments after, before tilting your head back just slightly so the water can cascade through your hair. Your hands instinctively move to touch him, but you retract back to your sides. He gently takes them, wrapping them around his waist like you usually do.

He doesn't say anything as he washes your hair gently, your eyes closed so as to not take in the image of your husband's slightly swollen eyes. His fingers card through your hair smoothly, before you feel his lips on your forehead. 

"I love you. Don't say it back. Don't say anything." You don't, but you're sure he sees the tear that slips from your eye as you nod silently. It comes so easily to him now. So, so easily to let you know how he feels about you. It makes you weak in the knees.

The rest of your shower is like that, his lips brushing chaste kisses all over your face as he repeats himself over and over, I love you, I love you, I love you. Your tears are hot as they continue to spill, and you finally slip out of the shower when he asks you to take the extra pillows off the bed – his final kiss to your lips after carefully washing your face for you.

You do as he asks, taking your decorative pillows and piling them in the closet like you usually do. You silently get dressed for bed, not bothering with your skincare – you'll just cry it off. Your hair is still damp when you lie down in one of your husband's old shirts and a pair of Spiderman briefs you stole from him years ago. He quietly turns all the lights off but leaves the music playing in the living room, before walking into the bedroom as he pulls his shirt over his head.

Your vision is blurry as you look up at him, his face illuminated by the evening moonlight. He sighs as he sits on your side of the bed, his hand sliding under the duvet to rest on your thigh. "Come dance with me." You blink a few times, staring at him before closing your eyes, shoving the duvet to the side and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. He stands, taking your hand in his and making you follow him to the living room.

You hear the opening notes of Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers – yet another song from your wedding – as Heeseung pulls you into him, planting a soft kiss to your hairline as his hands find home on your lower back. You exhale into his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken as you slide your hands under his shirt, resting them high on his back. 

"I love you, I'm sorry." You mumble as he sways the two of you gently, and he hums in response.

"I need you to know that I've never had feelings for Chaeyoung." He says clearly, and you close your eyes. "I've never had feelings for her, in any way that wasn't platonic. There are plenty of reasons she and I never got together after she kissed me when we were teenagers. Not that they matter, because all that matters is that I didn't feel the same, I never have and I never will." You don't respond, feeling your eyes sting with tears.

"It's only ever been you for me. I've never once thought back to when we started dating and thought that I'd would’ve been better off with anyone else. I've never wanted anyone that isn't you, and I think that is equally as beautiful as it is terrifying. In lieu of you, who? I'd have no first love without you, you’re the only love I want." "I'm sorry." You whisper as your tears soak into his shirt, and he pinches your hip lightly. 

"I'd genuinely be nothing without you. You are the most patient, loving person I've ever met. No one makes me want to be a better man like you do. I feel sick every time I have to get out of bed and go to work, but I remind myself that you only deserve the best. This house, our things, what I hope I can provide for our future kids…it can only be the best. So, I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry for giving so much importance to the future, which isn't a bad thing in itself. But, I've ignored my present. You're a gift from life, I've ignored you and it pains me to know I've caused you so much distress. So much so that you resort to feeling like this, like I'd ever leave the love of my life, the love for my life, for someone else."

His hands find your face, cooing at the pout on your lips as he gently wipes your tears. "I meant everything I said this weekend, too. I could never ask for a better woman, not when I have you." You only let out a sob in response, your husband cuddling you into his chest as he turns the music off when the song changes. He rubs your back as he moves the two of you back to the bedroom. He only separates from you to slide under the covers, but pulls you flush to his chest and envelopes you tightly in his arms.

"I love you so, so endlessly. Please don't ever doubt that again." He sighs shakily, pressing his lips to your temple as you bury your face in his neck. "I love you, Hee."

Friday, 3:40pm.

It'd been three weeks since you told Heeseung about Chaeyoung's return, and she'd become a regular patient at your clinic. She told you more about her husband, her friends, and how she missed Heeseung. She asked you about your life, and you did everything to avoid mentioning names, even going as far as avoiding certain questions. You kept Heeseung updated with everything, and the more you told him…

…The more disinterested he became. It was odd to you, but you said nothing as he changed the subject, as he rolled his eyes, as he kissed you in the middle of your sentences. 

Heeseung also made it a point to drop you off and pick you up from work every day, insisting he enjoyed it. He made your breakfast and picked your clothes, and it was like every morning was a challenge to see if he could convince you to take a trip to the bedroom in your work clothes. He'd succeeded twice, and you were late to work both times. He hadn't been successful since, earning soft swats of your hand and gentle shoves.

However, this morning – you did it all on your own. Heeseung had recently taken on a new case and it was cutting into his sleep. He came home not even an hour before you woke up, several apologetic calls and texts throughout the night before you fell asleep at midnight without him.

You tucked him in, planting kisses across his face as you shrugged your coat on. He didn't stir, and you packed his breakfast and lunch and left it on the table. You took the long way, playing the same soft jazz station he did every morning.

One of your patients had called to reschedule, so you'd have an early afternoon home. You got a text from Heeseung moments after arriving at the clinic, complaining about why you didn't wake him up to take you – only for him to call you at noon and say he'd barely gotten up for work. You'd laughed and teased him about thinking he'd be able to take you to work when he clearly needed the rest, only to hear Sunghoon tell your lovebird of a husband to get off the phone and focus.

It'd been nearly four hours since then, and you were about to wrap up with Chaeyoung.

"I found him on social media, you know. His mom posted a congratulatory post, he works in the same town. He's a lieutenant at the Seventh Precinct." She picked at her nails, a frown on her lips as you try not to show your shock at her words. "Who, your best friend?" "Yes. He's married now, too. I couldn't find anything about her, though. His parents didn't post anything about the wedding but a backshot of him and the bride." She sighs, and you think back. You'd both asked his parents to keep it private, and they both chose that photo to post across their social media to boast to their friends. You'd appreciated it so deeply that you bought them a rice cooker for Christmas that year.

"Do you plan on going to see him at some point?" You ask smoothly, refilling her glass of water as she shrugs. "I planned on going today, actually. I'm just…nervous. I had a friend drop me off today, and I'd be going alone. I feel like I'd need a support system." "I can go with you, if you'd like. I'm headed that way anyway." The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and her eyes widened with surprise before she smiled. "You'd do that?" "Of course. This is a big step for you, you know? I'd just have to make some calls, I know that precinct happens to be rather finicky with visitors." You shrug, feeling the pit in your stomach grow deeper as you wonder how you're going to tell Heeseung. She nods excitedly, and you excuse yourself, walking down the hall so nothing can be heard through the door.

The line rings three times before Heeseung picks up.

"Hey, baby. What's up?" "You can't be mad at me. Promise you won't get mad." You rush out, and he laughs. "I won't be mad. At least, I don't think I'll be. Are you okay?" "She wants to meet you. She said she's going over there today, and my stupid ass offered to drive her over because I'm going home early, anyway." You're wincing as the line goes silent, before your husband sighs. "Oh, babygirl." You can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, the particular pet name only really slipping when he's stressed. "I'm sorry, honey." "No, no. It's fine, just..let me get some stuff settled, I'll let Minseo know to let you through without issues." He trails off, before another sigh is heard. "Does she know we're married?" "She found that back shot from our wedding. She doesn't know it's me." You sigh shakily, and your husband only echoes it back. "Alright, I'll let the guys know. Will you be in the room? I don't think I can do this alone." "Yes, of course. I won't be there as your wife, though, if that's…fine. Just think of it as that one time we roleplayed."

Your husband snorts, "Babe, that was the most awkward thing ever." "Because you can't hold character! But don't worry, we'll spin that one back someday." You hum affirmatively, earning a soft laugh. "I love you, baby. I'll see you in what, thirty?" "I'd run red lights for you if it wasn't illegal and dangerous." You shrug, despite him not being able to see you. He's probably rolling his eyes, a click of his tongue coming through the phone. "Be good, honey. I'll see you. Love you." "I will. Love you." You shoot a few texts off to the other detectives as the line hangs up, before sliding back into your office and seeing Chaeyoung sprawled across the couch with her arm over her eyes. "You alright in here?" Your soft chuckle startles her, and she straightens quickly, brushing her hair out of her face. "Sorry, I'm nervous." "Not to worry. They know me well, so don't be startled if anyone says anything." You smile as you grab your coat, before floating over to your computer and clicking around. "Ready to go? We can even stop and get a little drink for the drive." "You're such a girl, I love it." She giggles, and you feel your stomach sink as you shake your head with fake amusement. You feel awful lying to her – she'd been so open and honest, warming up to you incredibly fast. She eagerly bounces alongside you as you walk to your car after gathering your belongings and locking your office, slipping into your passenger seat as you quickly buckle yourself in.

The ride is full of nervous chatter from her and you drop your guard a bit, opting to talk to her about Heeseung through memories. You tell her about your first date, and she's amused, telling you about her first date with her husband – talking about how the two of them wound up getting lost in Busan because he'd forgotten his way around a smaller part of town. You only smiled throughout.

You arrived at the precinct with an iced coffee from a shop a block away, Chaeyoung holding an Americano as she nervously chewed her lip. You spoke to Minseo softly, your eyes pointed as she nodded – it seemed Heeseung had vetted everyone before your arrival. "Go ahead, Dr. Lee. Lieutenant Lee should be in his office, his schedule is clear for the afternoon." "Thank you, Minseo. Take a break soon, okay?" You give her a warm smile and this time, she returns it, before printing your visitor stickers and giving one to Chaeyoung. Her fingers tremble as she sticks it on her denim jacket, and you see Sunghoon staring intently in your direction before you give him a dirty look.

"Dr. Lee! Good to see you, it's been a while." He wanders over, draping his arm over your shoulders as you try not to groan in annoyance. "Detective Park, always a pleasure." "Sunghoon?" You hear Chaeyoung whisper, and he glances over at her with a mock look of surprise. "Yes? Do I know you?" She opens her mouth, but you quickly shake your head, reaching for her hand. "Later. I promise you'll have time."

"Sorry." She mumbles, but she looks over her shoulder at Sunghoon for a bit as you walk through the precinct. You note the way her eyes widen at the sight of Jake and Jay, their serious faces contorting to ones of confusion at her longing glances. They all pretend like their hearts aren't racing out of their chests as you knock on Heeseung's door, hearing an affirmative sound to come in.

"Lieutenant Lee." You poke your head in, squeezing Chaeyoung's hand in yours as your husband looks up. You fight the urge to say he looks handsome in his white button down and blue suit jacket, but he stands before you can say anything else.

"Dr. Lee, always a pleasure to see you. How can I help you?" He opens the door further, and you can almost hear the way he thanks his years of training for the stoicism on his face as he sees Chaeyoung. You pull her into the office as he steps out of the way, her eyes wide as you sit her down and quickly close the blinds, sticking your tongue out at Sunghoon for good measure.

You almost forget Heeseung has a few photos of you on his desk, and you look over your shoulder to see them all facing the wall behind his chair. You nearly sigh in relief, but clear your throat instead as you sit next to Chaeyoung. Heeseung smiles softly, checking his watch.

"How can I help you, ladies? Oh, I'm Lieutenant Lee Heeseung. At your service." He extends his hand, noting the way hers trembles as she takes it. He gives it a firm shake, before glancing at her again. "You look…kind of familiar. Have we met before?" "I can't." She whispers, her hand gripping onto the sleeve of your coat as you nod, before clearing your throat. "It's okay. You want me to talk?" She nods without a word, and you give Heeseung a pleading look. "So, we have a bit of a…predicament." "Right, as one would assume." He nods slowly, and you note the way he nervously chews his lip before taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. "Are you in danger, or some sort of trouble?" He clicks a pen from his pocket, opening a drawer from the side table to take out a notepad.

"More like we have some answers to a case that went cold a few years back." You hear him hum, the pen not touching the paper as he looks up. "Alright, should I pull up some records?" "If you'd like, but it was a Missing Persons case you were involved with. Do you remember when we talked about it when we first met? The Cha Soyoung case?" "Ah…right. Right." He clears his throat, and you can see the tears beginning to well in his eyes as he blinks them back. "That case has long been dry, with lots of dead ends. Everyone in the precinct is familiar with it. Last update was, what, three years ago? Some sightings a few miles away." "Lieutenant, this is Jeon Chaeyoung." You introduce her properly, her eyes peering at him over your shoulder. He blinks, nodding slowly. "Formerly known as Cha Soyoung." He tilts his head at your words, as if he didn't already know. He stares blatantly, and you make her scoot up a bit so he can get a better look at her face. His eyes scan her repeatedly, before he stands up and moves to his desk, opening a drawer and taking out one of the many missing posters you used to put up every week. He looks at it for a moment, and sighs shakily. "You know, I appreciate you coming by–" "Hee, it's me." She blurts, a few tears rolling down her face as you see a pained look on your husband's face. He nibbles on his lip, his eyes full of stress as he looks at you. She stands up, and Heeseung tongues his cheek as he shakes his head. "Soyoung had a widow's peak, and a birthmark on her neck." "Heeseung, please. I know you're upset, and I…I'm sorry. I've missed you..." She trails off, and you note the way he's near tears, looking away from her, the paper crumpling in his hand as he clears his throat. "Dr. Lee, can I see you outside?"

Chaeyoung gives you a look of despair, and you just pat her shoulder with an apologetic look as you watch Heeseung storm out. "I'll talk to him, don't worry." She opens her mouth to speak, but she just sighs. Nodding, she takes a seat, and you tighten your coat around you as you follow your husband out. He's in the break room a few feet away, and he nearly shuts the door with a slam as you slip inside. His arm reaches for you, pulling him into you roughly and squeezing you so hard you can't breathe for a moment. "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough, Y/N." His voice is unsteady, but you snake your arms around his waist with a hum. "You know, I was worried. I was beginning to think you were going to let this all just…go. You are strong enough, and you can do this.. I know this is scary, it's so overwhelming. I know you, though. You're Lee Heeseung, you don't give up on anything. It's been almost a decade and you've worked so hard to get here. Don't you want to see the fruit of your hard work?" Your voice is soft but stern, and your husband only whimpers pitifully into your shoulder. You coo, running your hand down the nape of his neck as you sway the two of you gently. "I love you, baby. I believe you can get through this. You deserve a happy ending to it all. So many years of stress won't be good for your hairline." He actually snorts at your joke, but the tears continue nonetheless as he moves away, pouting as he sits in one of the chairs. You wipe your hands on his cheeks gently, offering him a tissue from your pocket as you squat in front of him. "It's gonna be okay. I promise." "I don't want to make amends. I don't think I can forgive her for this." He sniffles, and you nod in understanding. "That's okay, too. You don't need to be her friend again, even if that's what she wants. You owe her nothing, and vice versa." "I love you." He whines, covering his face with his hands as you laugh softly. "I know, I love you too, Hee."

"No, seriously, I'd ask you to marry me again if we weren't already married." He grabs your hands quickly, and you nearly lose your balance as he jerks you forward, enveloping you in a crushing embrace. "Submit your vacation paperwork and we can renew our vows instead." "I love you so much!" He cries into your coat. You can't help but laugh out loud, a bit of shock running through you as you take in his very big emotional outburst. "I know, I know! Now please, get it together. We've got to get back, and you need to talk to her. The poor girl is vibrating out of her skin."

"Kiss me." He pouts, looking up at you as you stand. You roll your eyes. "After. Promise." "I need it for encouragement. Be the wind beneath my wings, babe." He begs, making you sigh. "One kiss, and keep your tongue in your mouth." "Two kisses to make up for the lack of tongue." He counters, and you smack his arm before pressing your lips to his. His hands instinctively hold your waist, your own moving to hold his cheeks gently. It's slow and sweet, and you pull away as his teeth nip at your lower lip.

“Stop that." You brush two more chaste kisses on his lips, a pout appearing as you squeeze his hand. "Come on, we have to." "I love you." He repeats for the umpteenth time, and you know he's finding comfort in knowing that you both feel the same and are there for moral support. "I love you, Hee. Now, let's go." The other detectives pretend they don't notice the way you hold his hand tightly as you both exit the break room, Heeseung ducking his head to hide his teary eyes as you open the door to his office. You pop your head in, seeing a rather disheveled Chaeyoung on the couch.

"How're we feeling?" You call gently, squeezing Heeseung's hand behind you before you let go. She gives you a thumbs down as she wipes her eyes, and Heeseung clears his throat behind you as he carefully slips past. She shifts as he does so, and you shut the door behind you. He sits across from her carefully, her eyes shimmering with tears as she peers up at you.

Heeseung does the same, before glancing at your wedding rings. They're snug on your finger, and you carefully thumb at them as you gingerly take a seat on the couch next to Chaeyoung. You give him a pointed look, and he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Hee." She whispers, and he nods. "I'm sure." "I really am. You would've talked me out of it, I know you."

Heeseung's hands flex on his knees, "You could've talked to me, at least. You could've said literally anything. You just up and left and expected no one would care." "You don't get it, Hee. I felt so much pressure from everyone around me, I was so tired of pretending like I wanted any of that for myself. I didn't want to take over the company, you knew that." She tries to reason, but you can tell he's fighting himself from saying anything out of line as he takes a deep breath.

"It's always what I knew and what you knew, but you clearly forgot the fact that you were my best friend. Since we were kids, and the most painful part of this all is confirming that you didn't trust me that entire time. There's no coming back from this." 

She's silent as he picks at his nails, before she speaks softly. "Don't you at least want to know how I'm doing?" He scoffs quietly, folding his hands in his lap. "Sure. Tell me everything you've built for yourself while I've spent a decade agonizing about whether or not you're alive." His tone is harsh and you find yourself giving him a hard look, your jaw tight as she looks down. He doesn't apologize, and you find yourself speaking softly.

"A lot of big feelings here, hm? There's a lot of pain to get through, so…let's not take anything to heart right now." You nod, and Chaeyoung nods next to you as she clears her throat. Heeseung doesn't acknowledge it, opting to bounce his leg.

"I got married. I know you did too, right? During college?" She nods, and he clicks his tongue. 

"Heeseung, be nice." You say his name out of habit, his eyes snapping to you as you wince at your mistake. "Didn't know we were on a first-name basis, Dr. Lee." "You know what I mean." You roll your eyes, and Heeseung sighs. "Yeah, I got married in college right after I turned twenty-one. Seven years ago."

"You're awfully young to be a Lieutenant." She says softly, and he struggles not to roll his eyes. "Doesn't take much to get promoted when you're constantly mulling over cases and neglecting other things for someone who didn't want to be found. You could've called, you know."

"Could I have? Because it seems like you hate me for doing what's best for me." Her eyes are narrowed now, and he scoffs. "I think I'm allowed to hate you for all its fucking worth at this point. You abandoned me nine years ago, you just up and left without a word! Do you know how many birthdays I had to spend answering questions about you instead of celebrating with my loved ones? You know how many date nights I shoved aside with my wife because I was here, hoping I'd get a crumb of knowing that you're at least alive? Do you understand how much of my life has gone into this?!" Heeseung is starting to lose his patience, but it seems Chaeyoung had been ready to blow her top for years.

"What about me, Heeseung?! You think I liked always being on the fucking sidelines, waiting for you to notice me? I had to fucking disappear for you to care about me? For you to look my way even once, I had to uproot my entire life? Is that what it had to fucking come to?!" 

Your lips part at her words, Heeseung's eyes widening before they narrow. "Are you serious? That's what you want to attribute this to? I didn't reciprocate your feelings so now I'm the bad guy? You fucking left, instead of communicating with anyone. You made that decision, no one forced you to take that road." "I did what I had to, and the fact that you never wanted to be with me despite us literally being the perfect love story was just the cherry on top. It was my catalyst and I hope you know that I resent you for making me feel so undesirable." She huffs, and you clear your throat as Heeseung glowers. 

"I think…we've lost our way a bit. This was more about reconnecting, I assumed it'd be a bit more peaceful. The blame game gets us nowhere." You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Chaeyoung takes a deep breath, struggling not to roll her eyes before pulling her phone out. "This is my husband. You'd like him, he plays bass and he produces music for an entertainment company. His name is Jungkook, we got married two years ago." Heeseung gives you a glance, your eyes nervous as you breathe out.

"Everything alright?" He asks gently, and you know it's his way of asking if he can talk about you. Your eyes are nervous, but you nod anyway, playing with the hem of your dress. Chaeyoung gives you a once over, patting your knee with a smile. 

"I'm sorry, I know this must be stressful. I should've never taken your offer, Dr. Lee." "No, I think this was necessary, really. For the three of us." You shrug, attempting to appear nonchalant. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes as Heeseung clears his throat, standing up to grab the photo of you off his desk. It's you on your honeymoon – the two of you took it the summer after you graduated from college. You were wearing a white dress and it was one of the most picturesque candids in your collection. He gives you a waywards glance, but you only nod as he sits down.

"This is my wife. You'd like her, she plays piano and crochets and does cross-stitch. She's a therapist. Her name is Y/N, we got married seven years ago." He flips the picture, and you watch her eyes widen out of your peripheral vision. She takes it gently, her manicured thumb stroking your smiling face. She looks pale as she turns to you, her jaw tight.

"Chaeyoung, I'm sorry." You whisper, and she gives you a glare. "Are you? You knew this entire time and you let me open up to you about everything? Did you tell him, too? Did you tell everyone here?" Her voice only raises as she scoots away from you, and you feel your cheeks heat as you run a hand through your hair. "We spent years looking for you, Chaeyoung. There were so many sleepless nights, so many tears, so much stress over you. This is hard for me too, you know." "What, loving a man who is nothing but a shell of a person? Yeah, I'm sure you loved filling his fucking cup until it overflowed while he casted you aside." She sneers, and you feel your chest tighten. "I'm sure it felt great being stuck in your house, wondering when the fuck he'd be home because he was here. Looking at case files, talking to forensics, doing anything instead of being home with you." Your throat burns as you clear it, but Heeseung interrupts as he takes the photo of you back. "Chaeyoung, you're obviously angry. I can't blame you for that, but I also won't allow you to speak to Y/N like this. She's here to help both of us." "Yeah, well you can take your help and fucking shove it, Y/N." She huffs, gathering her coat from the couch cushion. You stand quickly, holding your hands out to deter her from leaving. "Chaeyoung, please let me explain–" "Explain what? How you're a lying bitch?" She spits, and Heeseung's eyes narrow as he opens his mouth to say something, only for you to wave him off. Your gaze is unreadable as she continues to berate you. "You want to explain why you let me agonize over Heeseung for three weeks, and how you listened to me tell you how I felt about him and said nothing? What kind of fucking therapist are you?" "A dumb one." You say softly, "I didn't tell you I was married to Heeseung because that's none of your business. Getting you involved in my personal life could be incredibly damaging to my career, but I did it because I've known about you since before I met Heeseung." Her eyes are aflame as she stares you down, but you don't budge.

"I don't fight over men. I never have, I never will. What I will do, though, is tell you that though I knew mixing my personal life and my career could be a disaster, I did it because I love Heeseung. You suffered, you left because of all the pressure you felt. I understand that pressure, too. I know what it's like for your family to expect something from you that you simply don't want to provide, or feel like you can't."

Her eyes well with tears as she looks away.

"Just as you suffered, though, we did, too." You gesture at the space between you and Heeseung, and he steps slightly closer. "I cannot tell you the nights we spent walking all over town and putting posters anywhere they'd allow us to. I cannot even begin to explain the stress everyone felt, all of your friends, all of your family members because you just disappeared. I wasn't your friend, and I didn't know you personally…but it affected me, too." A tear falls down her face, and you reach to wipe it with the sleeve of your coat.

"There were so many nights that I'd be in Heeseung's dorm just talking about you. He'd tell me so many stories, he's shown me so many photos of you together. He's told me every piece of your life that he knows, and you've sat in my office for three weeks and done the same for him. Things I already knew, and things I didn't." She silently sits back down, letting the tears drip down her face.

"I know it's painful, to want something or someone so bad and have it be just out of your reach. I know it sounds like I'm bragging, or maybe like I'm trying to rub it in your face but I promise I'm not. Loving Heeseung has not been easy, there were many times I wanted to give up. There were nights he'd be locked in the home office, overthinking himself into a bottle of bourbon." You laugh softly, taking Heeseung's seat across from her. He stands behind you, his hand running up and down your back.

"There were times I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to hurt his feelings because he made me feel neglected. He'd come home late, he'd miss dinner, he wouldn't be around to just hang out. You told me during our first session that you and Jungkook dance together all the time, that he sings you to sleep. I cannot tell you how envious I would have been, had I met you just a week earlier." 

Her gaze meets yours, surprised. "What?"

"I mean what I say and I say what I mean." Heeseung speaks up, his voice a lot softer. "I was not a good husband. I'm still not, but it's not your fault. It's my fault, I wanted so badly to know that you were at least okay that I completely neglected Y/N. I wasn't present, emotionally or physically." "I knew it wouldn't be easy, loving someone like Heeseung." You interrupt him, "I knew loving someone who had gone through something so gut wrenching would be one of the most difficult things I'd ever have to do. I wanted it so bad, Chaeyoung. I wanted to love him, and be the glue that held him together. I wanted to be the person he woke up with in the mornings and the person he kissed goodnight. I wanted to be there, no matter what it took." "So you allowed all of it." She murmurs, and you sigh. 

"I fought it. I didn't want to brave the storm that was Lee Heeseung in college. But like a moth to a flame, I stayed. I got hurt time and time again, but the good outweighed the bad so much. I saw so much potential, I saw so much kindness and I knew in my heart I could help it flourish. And now, we're here." "Don't you feel jealous?" She asks, making you smile sadly before nodding. "Of course I felt jealous. I knew there was a girl that knew my husband more than I ever would, and I envied that. I wanted to know everything there was to know, but I had to come to terms with the fact that it simply couldn't be. We're ever-evolving, and while you may have known each other for so many years…you've both changed so much." She closes her eyes, her chipped nails digging into the fabric of her peacoat. Heeseung's hand rubs circles into your back, before you feel him squeeze your shoulder. "I don't hate you." She says suddenly, her eyes on Heeseung. He clicks his tongue, "I don't expect you to. I haven't done anything to you to make myself worthy of hating."

"Why not me?" She mumbles, and Heeseung's eyes close as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Just tell me that." "I can't do that to you, Chaeyoung." He shakes his head, and you hear her scoff. "Just do it, it'll make getting over you a lot easier. I already know you're married, I'm not going to make a fucking move." "I wouldn't allow it, either." He says through gritted teeth, making you shift in your chair, clearing your throat. "Would you like for me to step out?" "No." They say in unison, and Heeseung holds onto your shoulders as he looks at Chaeyoung. "Don't you think your family wants to know you're okay? It's been nine years." "What, do you keep up with them? Do they care about anything else besides that stupid company now?" She rolls her eyes, her jaw tight as she stares at her boots. "Your father sold it." Heeseung speaks softly, "He sold it not even a week after you left. Your sister bought it from him and funded half of the search party that looked for you for a year." Her eyes stay narrowed as her lips purse. "Doesn't mean they care. It was always the company this, the company that. Just like you, Hee." She glares up at him, "Focus on school, Soya. Let's study, Soya. We got into college and you just stopped wanting to hang out like we used to." "I'm 'just like them' because I prioritized my studies? Because I was on scholarship while mommy and daddy paid your way? My fucking bad, Soya." He scoffs, making her scowl. "See? You're just like them." "You're ungrateful! You've always been so blind at how things were just handed to you, you were always so fucking out of touch with everything! Your father had an entire company, a collection of businesses that he sold because you just wanted to up and leave! I don't think you will ever understand how privileged your life has been, even in the years you've been gone." His laugh is humorless as he shakes his head, and you clear your throat. 

"I think maybe this has been enough for one day." "You don't get to decide that, Y/N. I still want an answer. Why. Not. Me." She's standing now, her face tear-stained but her eyes…they're full of fury. Towards who, you're not entirely sure anymore.

You look up at Heeseung, his jaw clenched as he runs a hand through his hair. "You just don't have what I need. I won't be with someone who can't make me feel fulfilled in all aspects of life, or someone who doesn't share the same goals as me. You don't see the world the way I do, and you never have." "And she does?" She gestures at you, her voice thick as her eyes gloss over once more. "Yes. She does. She is everything I could ever ask for and so much more than I will ever deserve." He folds his hands in front of him, "There is always going to be something in this life you cannot have, whether it be an object, a person, even a stick of gum. You can't hold onto that resentment forever, it will make you miserable. You shouldn't live your life that way, not when you have a husband who loves you and a life people would kill for. Not when someone you said was your best friend over and over has someone who loves him." She glares at him, her chest rising with shallow breaths. She shakes her coat off, pulling it over her arms and walking towards the door. Her hand wraps around the doorknob as she looks at the two of you, the tick in her jaw growing tighter as she sees you stand.

"You don't have to act like this, Chaeyoung. You don't have to keep running away, you'll never solve anything this way." "You're married to the man I've been in love with since I was six years old. You lied to me, knowing I was in pain about this entire situation, and you stand here and try to act innocent. You're just as guilty as I am, so you don't get to tell me how I get to act, Y/N." She whispers, a singular tear rolling down her face as she turns to Heeseung. 

"You can tell my parents, and whoever else you please. Y/N can give them my information. I won't be coming back to Seoul, and I won't be visiting your practice again. Do not contact me further, and I won't make a scene."

She throws the door open, revealing the gaggle of detectives bunched around the door. Sunghoon nearly falls into the office as they disperse like bugs, catching himself on the doorframe. Chaeyoung stares up at him, his own eyes flickering to you. "You okay in here?"

"Fine." Heeseung replies curtly, and Chaeyoung scoffs, pushing past Sunghoon with a scowl on her face. She stalks through the precinct, and Minseo stares wide eyed as she shoves Jay and Jake out of the way to the double doors. Your eyes never leave her, continuing to stare after her as the doors shut.

You hear a disappointed sigh from your husband, and you peer up at him as Sunghoon shuts the door with his lips pressed into a thin line. He looks a mess, and you move to comfort him as Jay opens the door. He strides in confidently, a quirk in his brow as he pulls his hand out of his pocket, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand.

"Shall we?" It doesn't take much convincing to get you and Heeseung out the backway of the precinct, and you find yourself resting your forehead against the rough brick of the building. Jay lights your cigarette, sliding it between your fingers as Heeseung lights his own. You mumble a thanks, before holding it between your lips.

"Long day, huh?" He starts, his words muffled as he holds his own between his lips, the flicker of the lighter catching your attention. You nod, pushing off the brick wall to face the two men. Jay gives you a once over, "New dress?" "Storage." You shake your head, blowing smoke from your lips as Heeseung paces back and forth. "How's your girlfriend?" "Not my girlfriend, just a fling. Cut her off a bit ago. Feeling good, though." He nods, and Heeseung walks by you, your hand reaching for him. He takes it, leaning against the wall as he pulls you to him. He spins you around, making you face Jay as he wraps his arm in front of you. "PDA? From Lee Heeseung?" Jay acts shocked as you snort, closing your eyes as you lean your head back onto his shoulder. "You'd be surprised what Lee Heeseung has been up to these days." "Mmh, do tell." He shrugs, flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Did you know sharing details of your sex life to your friends is considered inappropriate social behavior?" You smirk, and he raises his brow.

"Oh, don't tell me the people who have been married for seven years are fucking. Oh man, holy shit." Jay sarcastically rolls his eyes, holding his hand to his chest as if he were clutching pearls. "Like animals." Heeseung speaks for the first time since you stepped outside, making your eyes widen as Jay's do the same. You glance up at him, watching the way he throws the cigarette butt onto the floor and stomps it out with his foot. He plucks yours from your fingers, slotting it between his lips for a slow drag before giving it back. His lips have a layer of glitter on them from your lipgloss.

"Hee, you cannot say that." "Who cares? It's Jay. It's not like he's going to ask to watch us fuck." He shrugs, making your cheeks grow hot as you turn to Jay to apologize, who is looking away with red ears. Heeseung looks over, blowing smoke out of his lips as he speaks. "Dude." "You fucking brought it up, dickwad." Jay scoffs, before stomping out his own cigarette butt. You don't speak, opting to run a hand through your hair as Heeseung sighs.

"Did you guys hear anything through the door?" "Every word. Walls are thin, you know." Jay nods, offering another cigarette. Heeseung takes it, sighing as Jay hands him the lighter. "I cannot believe she's been in love with you since you were kids." "She's not in love with me, she's infatuated with the idea of me." He rolls his eyes, fiddling with the lighter. "Her parents used to fight in front of us all the time, and when we were seventeen she told me that she wanted something better than that. Admirable, truly, but she was never going to find that with me." He holds the blue flame to the cigarette, before handing it back to Jay. "Wasn't she your first kiss?" "Ugh, yeah. I only said yes because she kept talking about how Mina, you remember her sister Mina? Mina had her first kiss at sixteen." He rolls his eyes again, his arm around you tightening slightly as he leans his head back onto the building. "I think a part of me hates her." "That's valid." You and Jay say in unison, before Jay tilts his head for you to continue. You shake yours, shrugging as Heeseung continues to talk. "She always pushed for us to become more and I just didn't want that. She lacks so much compassion, and that's why her father wanted her to take over the company. She's cold and calculated and that's why I befriended her in the first place, because no one wanted to be her friend. She was mean to everyone, but I guess she learned how to fake it well." You'd never heard Heeseung speak of her this way, but he clicks his tongue before you can ask anything. "I don't want to keep talking about her. I still have to call her parents, fuck." He runs his hand over his face. The three of you sigh in unison, a snort from Jay as he notices it, "Well…I can say that I'm glad to know she's alive, even if we don't let her back into our lives."

"Yeah." Heeseung nods, taking a final drag from the cigarette in his mouth before dropping it and putting it out. "I guess that's the silver lining in this all. Nine years…man." You nod silently, before patting his arm. "We can call on Monday when I get home from work. I have to get all her information, anyway, and remove her from my patient registry so her insurance stops getting processed." "Shit, I forgot about that." Heeseung groans, slumping slightly as Jay laughs. "You guys head on home, we can get paperwork processed to actually close the case. We'll see you on Tuesday, Lieu." "Tuesday?" He echoes absently, and Jay scoffs. "Fine, Wednesday. Is that too much time away for you, workaholic?"

Your laugh makes Heeseung look up, watching you as you put out your cigarette. The two of you only indulged every once in a while, and Heeseung never fully took the habit up after you refused to kiss him one night after a smoke. Jay bids the two of you goodnight as you all walk back into the building, his box of cigarettes now broken in and Heeseung beelining for his office to grab his coat. "Hungry?" You ask as he shrugs it on, and he shakes his head. "Wanna go home and shower, go to bed. Wanna cuddle?"

He never asks. You can’t bring yourself to say no, not that you’d want to anyway.

It's easy with you. You end up leaving your car in the precinct parking lot, dropping the keys on Jake's desk with the promise of dinner if he dropped it off at your house before morning. He rolled his eyes but agreed. The entire precinct watched as you left, Heeseung's arm holding you close – a sight they'd never seen.

"Can I be the little spoon tonight?" He asks as he buckles you in, and you press a kiss to his temple. "Yeah, Hee."

Monday, 6:32pm

The two of you spent the weekend processing everything that happened. You reluctantly left your husband's side for work this morning, driving yourself as he slept soundly. Your day felt incredibly slow, your hands aching to feel his warm skin under yours.

You'd felt the need to coddle him all weekend – you made his favorite meals, you massaged his back, you even made him a new pair of slacks. A navy blue this time, his smile shy as he modeled them for you on Sunday night. The two of you cuddled for hours, Heeseung burrowing his face in any crevice you'd allow. He kissed your skin all over, mumbles of I love you and hold me tighter falling from his lips as you spent the passing hours in your bed.

Your last patient of the day was a young girl in her twenties, her eyes constantly glossed over with tears as she tried to get comfortable with you. She wound up sobbing, your chest aching as you tried to comfort her. By the time she left, she looked much better – and she told you, thank you for your help. You have no idea how long I've been holding that in. It was enough to make your chest swell with pride as you drove home, a smile on your lips as you picked up dinner and played soft jazz on the radio. You felt the weight of the world slip onto your shoulders as you pulled into your driveway, killing the engine as you fished your house key out of your bag.

You'd contacted Chaeyoung's insurance the moment you got to the clinic, and pulled her from your patient registry without a second thought. You shoved her file into your bag and pushed the thought of it all out of your mind, choosing to focus all your energy on your patients and the way your shoes hurt your feet.

"Baby?" You called into the house as you opened the door, kicking your heels off with a sigh of relief. The cold tile of the foyer against your hot skin felt like Heaven, a shiver running down your spine as you set the bag of takeout down on the dinner table. You stop to listen, but hear nothing. "Baby, are you home?" You walk down the hall, reaching to take your earrings out as you cross the threshold to the bedroom. You see your husband laying on his back with his headphones on, the light off and curtains drawn. He wouldn't be able to see you if his eyes were open, but you can see him thanks to the light in the hallway behind you. His arms are crossed over his face, but you hear the familiar quiet sob fall from his lips. You feel your chest ache at the sight, but you don't interrupt him. You merely move your hands from your ears, leaving the earrings he gifted you a few years ago on as you fold your hands behind your back.

You watch him cry for a few minutes, before he groans in disgust. He wipes at his face angrily, sitting up abruptly with his eyes wide. He jumps as he sees you, his hand flying to his chest as you smile. "Hi." "Holy shit, babe. Don't do that." He takes his headphones off, carding his fingers through his hair as you shrug. "Maybe don't lay on our bed in the dark when I call for you twice." He rolls his eyes as you near the bed, your palms cool against his skin. "Anything you want to talk about?" Your thumbs wipe his cheeks as he shakes his head.

"Same old, just angry at the entire ordeal." He mumbles, his hands finding your hips. You hum, pressing a kiss to his hairline. "Well, I brought dinner. Come eat with me." "What did you get?" His voice is muffled as he buries his face in your stomach, the buttons of your vest annoying him as he huffs. You card your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp, "I stopped at Pasta La Vista." "What happened to no more cheesy pun restaurants?" He snorts, and you pinch his cheek. "Ah, but I love going to those places with you. I love you, you know." 

He sighs, reaching up to turn the light on. His fingers tug gently on the pull cord, the soft yellow light illuminating the room suddenly. You both wince as your eyes adjust, blinking rapidly before looking at each other. His mouth drops, making your head tilt. "Something wrong?" "Babe. Are you serious?"

His voice is whiny, paired with the splotchy cheeks and swollen lips from his crying. You furrow your brow in confusion, feeling his hands tighten on your hips. "What? Did I do something wrong?" "Be so fucking serious with me right now. Look at what you're wearing." He huffs, pulling at one of your belt loops. You glance down at your outfit, a form-fitting black pinstripe suit you hadn't worn in a few years. It had a matching vest, one you paired with a white button down underneath. You'd worn your white Hot Chicks, much to the dismay of your poor feet. "Do I look bad?" You ask softly, glancing at yourself in the mirror when he gets your attention by pulling at your belt buckle. "Are you kidding me? You look fucking amazing! You haven't worn this in ages, where the hell did you find it?" "You could've started with that! You had me thinking I did something wrong!" You huff, swatting at his shoulder as his fingers fiddle with the buttons of your vest. "I'm sorry, but you really caught me off guard. Fuck, have these always fit like this?" He runs his hands down the back of your thighs, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly as you shove his hands off you.

"Stop feeling me up and come eat dinner. We have things to do before we can turn in for the night." You remind him as you turn around to walk out of the bedroom when you feel his fingers pinch the swell of your ass. You reach behind you and smack his hand away, "Stop it!" "Fine, fine. Let me…get cleaned up I guess. I feel gross." He groans, rolling his eyes as he slides off the bed. You make your way to the kitchen without any more of Heeseung's touching, and you carefully plate everything up. You know he'd be content just eating on the couch with a show on, but you need something to busy yourself as your mind whirls with the idea of calling Chaeyoung's parents.

What would you even say? "Nice to meet you, now let me tell you all about how I betrayed your daughter when she came to me for therapy!" You groan, running your hands through your hair as you overwhelm yourself with thoughts. You thought you'd be fine, but you sort of thank your stars that you managed to make it through work without thinking about it. You'd rather be home and agonizing over it than anywhere else.

In all your thinking, you don't hear Heeseung walk into the kitchen. Your head is low between your shoulders as you hold onto the sink, taking deep breaths. You jolt when you feel his hand on your back, a concerned look in his eyes. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, fine. Sorry, just…thinking." You sigh, before pushing off the sink. He gives you a stern look, his hands moving to your waist to pull you into him. “Talk to me.”

You gently bang your forehead against his chest, “What are we even going to tell them?”

A low whistle comes from your husband’s lips, “I have no idea. Promise to still think I’m sexy if I break down?”

You snort, slapping his chest lightly as he smiles down at you. “Emotional vulnerability is sexy, Hee.”

“You want me so bad.” He chides, making you roll your eyes. You try not to let your eyes linger on the muscle of his arms, now showcased by a sleeveless white shirt he must've changed into. “Let’s eat dinner and I’ll take care of whatever hornball issue you have later.”

“Will you keep the suit on?” He asks, brow raised as he scans your face. You rub your temples, before feigning an annoyed sigh. “Yes, Heeseung, I’ll keep the suit on.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He smiles as you try to weasel your way out of his arms, but he holds you tightly. He pins you against the sink, his hand moving to hold your face gently. The tip of his nose touches yours slightly, the same electricity that skin-to-skin contact with your husband causes runs down your spine. “Have I?”

“You’re going to wax poetic after I said I’d keep the suit on to get you off?” You snort, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m going to wax poetic after my wife agrees to some weird shit I ask of her simply because she loves me as I love her.”

You struggle not to roll your eyes, but your warming cheeks give you away. "Please focus on the order of events, will you? Dinner, dreaded call, then whatever freak shit you have in your head. Move it." He grins as he presses a kiss to your forehead, before letting you worm out of his grasp. Dinner is quiet, with neither of you wanting to talk too much in detail about your days. Heeseung would know you were so stressed that you skipped lunch, and you'd know that he'd had to change his pillowcase twice because of how long he'd been crying. It wasn't something either of you wanted to share, but simultaneously, you both knew. "Do you think they'll be happy?" You murmur around a breadstick, a pout on your husband's lips as he chews. "I mean…I would hope so. Mrs. Cha lost her mind when she disappeared." "Define lost her mind." 

He sighs, taking a sip of his water. "I guess the same way I did, but worse. The first year had to have been the worst. No sleep, she barely ate and was having constant breakdowns…but it's different. A mother's love is nothing compared to what I may have felt then." He shrugs, and you find yourself humming in response.

Your eyes are downcast, pushing the remaining pasta around on your plate as he gazes at you. "I'm sorry to have put you through that." "Do you remember our vows? I'd promised I'd be there, always." You say pointedly, and he shakes his head. "I mean, through what happened on Friday. I will never stop apologizing for any of it, I know that in my heart. That day was just too much for you, I saw it in the way you looked at her. She hurt your feelings." "Calling me a bitch is hardly hurting my feelings, I've heard far worse." You snort, but Heeseung leans slightly across the table. "You know that's not what I'm talking about, honey. You're great at your job, you have to know that."

You sigh, "I know, I even had a patient today tell me I helped her a lot and it made me feel really nice. But, I will admit it was a dumb move to keep Chaeyoung as a patient. I should have told her from the get-go who I was and what I knew, and then maybe Friday would've gone differently. If at all, you know." "It's too late to think about what we should have done. We can only look forward, and unfortunately that means we have to make that call to her parents." He slumps in his chair, closing his eyes. "What if I cry?" "Then you cry, honey." You shrug, "I'll be here anyway. We're doing this together." Nothing more is said as the two of you clean up, opting to brush your teeth to remove the taste of the garlic from your tongues. You find yourself reapplying your lipstick, wiping the corners of your lips as you cap the wine red wax. Heeseung sits on the couch with his phone in his hand as you retrieve the file from your purse. He sighs as you walk over, your thigh brushing his as you sit next to him. "Ready?" You ask softly, your fingers flicking the file open. Heeseung sighs inwardly as he dials the number he's known by heart since he was a kid. You drape your leg over his to feel him closer, his hand sliding around your upper thigh as the line rings.

"Cha Residence, Seonmi speaking." 

The woman's voice is tired, and Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut as he speaks. "Hi, Mrs. Cha. It's uhm…it's Heeseung." The line is quiet for a moment, before a gentle sigh is heard. "Hi, sweetheart. Long time." "I know, I'm sorry." He mumbles, earning a soft laugh from her. "Nothing to be sorry for. Are you alright? How's your wife?"

"She's good. She's here, actually. Would you like to say hello?" He holds the phone towards you, and you clear your throat as you say a soft hello. "Oh, hello! Wow, I've never heard you speak, I've only seen photos of you. How are you? Heeseung treating you well, I hope?" You feel your cheeks heat as you respond, "Yeah, yes ma'am. I'm okay, how are you?" "Oh, you know. Same old, struggling. Did you guys need something from me? Maybe something of Soyoung's?" She sounds so tired, it makes your heart ache.

"Actually, we called with an update. If you're in the headspace to hear it." Heeseung says shakily, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to his cheek, stamping your lipstick on his skin. He leans into your lips, and you brush another in the same place before leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Oh, boy. Another sighting, I assume?" Mrs. Cha sounds defeated, and you can hear the clicking of a keyboard in the distance. You clear your throat, and Heeseung holds the phone to you. "I think it's better if my wife tells you." "Sweetheart, please get on with it."

You take the phone gingerly, clearing your throat. "For starters, I'm a therapist in the next town over. I started that job a few weeks back, and I've been taking new patients. Your daughter was one of them." Nothing is heard on the other end, and Heeseung gives you a nod to keep talking. His hand squeezes around your thigh, and you speak again. "She's changed her name, and she's married. I…she talked about everything that led to her disappearance as well as everything going on in her life currently. She's well, and she's established."

"So…you found her?" You hear a soft sob from the other end, your own eyes stinging. "We did. She talked a lot about Heeseung, so I didn't tell her we were married. I drove her to the precinct on Friday to see him again for the first time since she disappeared, and it did not go well, to say the least. However, she did give us permission to share her information with you, and I've got everything in front of me if you've got a pen or something to jot it down." You hear the rustling of paper and pens knocking against each other as someone talks in the background. Mrs. Cha sniffles into the phone, "Go ahead. I'm ready." You read everything out to her, spelling street names and offering to send photos over as well. "And you're sure it's her? You know it?" Mrs. Cha's voice is shaky as you hear a chair get pushed back, and Heeseung replies, "Positive. We wouldn't have called if we weren't sure, I was in denial when Y/N told me." "Do you…should I call her? I know she's angry with me, she must be." Mrs. Cha sounds distant, like she's walking somewhere. "She may be angry, but I'm sure she wouldn't have allowed us to give you her information if she didn't want you to contact her or know of her reappearance." You say gently, and hear Mrs. Cha laugh through her presumed tears.

"You chose the right profession, Y/N. I can see how easily this comes to you." 

Heeseung's eyes widen as he looks down at you, your own lips spread in a shy smile. His eyes speak for themselves – See? Told you.

"Thank you." You murmur, and Heeseung squeezes your leg as he clears his throat. "Well, that's all we really called for. Feel free to keep us updated, we'll get all the paperwork for the case figured out. We can handle our end privately, but you can choose how to go about things on your end." "Thank you, sincerely. I know the last nine years have been grueling for you as well, Heeseung. I hope you know you'll always have a place in our family and our hearts, and you're welcome in our home any time. You as well, Y/N. We'd love to have you over for dinner."

You gape as Heeseung answers gently, saying he'll figure out some dates and get back to her. She agrees, and a soft take care is whispered from your husband before he hangs up.

He leans forward to put his phone and Chaeyoung's file on the coffee table, before sighing. You rest your arm against the back of the couch, smushing your cheek with the heel of your palm. He slumps against the cushions silently, his hand slinking up and down your thigh.

"Feel better? This was somehow under and overwhelming." "Weight off my fucking shoulders, I'll tell you that much." He huffs, rubbing his face in frustration. You hum, reaching to run your fingers through his hair as he turns his head to face you, a pout on his lips. "Why does everything have to suck?" "Does everything suck?" You repeat thoughtfully, looking around your living room. "I mean, consider the good things. We've got this wonderful home, we have our health and your family. We have our jobs. Job market is garbage, you know." He sighs, looking around the room. "Now I just sound ungrateful." You snort, before pushing yourself up and straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You settle high on his thighs, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your hips. "You're not ungrateful, you're just going through the motions. I honestly thought you'd be worse. That's why this all seems so underwhelming to me, I thought it would be a much bigger ordeal, that you'd be excited to see her." "I would have been, if it weren't for the fact that she left at her own will. A part of me just wishes she would have fucking said something, I could've talked to her. Or her parents, or something, you know?" He's frustrated as you nod, thumbing the lobe of his ear. "Oh, but you can't save everyone. You're only human. I know that's one of the first fates you face when you do the kind of work you do." He huffs, "I just have questions that I won't ever get answers to. It bothers me because no matter what she does or says, it just feels like betrayal over and over again. If we pile the fact that she said all those shitty things to you, it just makes me hate her more."

"Hating people is so taxing, baby." You shrug, "It's not good for the spirit, or your hairline." "Keep making jokes about my hairline, see how that works out for you." He scoffs, making you scrunch your nose at him. "I've been making jokes about your hairline since we met, I think it's worked out just fine. I have this house, I have this couch…" You trail off as you lean closer, brushing your nose with his, his eyes wide as he looks up at you. "I have you, on this couch, in this house and your signature on a paper that says you're my husband. What does that say about you?" "That I like gorgeous women in suits who make fun of me, I guess." He shrugs, his hands squeezing your hips as you brush your lips against his. You move away as he tries to connect your lips, making him roll his eyes. "Just kiss me, will you?" "Is that how we get the things we want?" You pull back, your brow raised as he sighs. This was a game you liked to play every once in a while, knowing that Heeseung easily flustered when you took charge. He reveled in it, sure, but it definitely took him a bit to accept that you called the shots.

"Babe, come on." "Hm, I don't like that answer." Shrugging, you start moving off his lap, earning a groan as he uses his strength to hold your hips flush to his. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please kiss me, I need it." "You need it?" You scoff, your hands on his shoulders as he blushes, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. "I need you."

"Yeah? Need me where?" Your eyes look at him expectantly, feeling him shift under you with nerves, looking down. Your gaze doesn't waver as you tilt his chin back up, his eyes full of lust and adoration. "Where?" "Here." His cheeks flushed impossibly deeper as he pouted up at you, moving your fingertips to his lips. He kisses the pads of your fingers, making you coo as you press your lips to the tip of his nose. He chases your lips as you plant kisses around his entire face, stamping your lipstick on his skin carefully. "Baby, please." 

"I love you." You murmur against his lips, making his eyes flutter shut as you finally kiss him. His hands move to your waist, pulling your chest flush to his as you shrug off your suit jacket, tossing it to the side as you gently lick into his mouth. He groans into your mouth, his fingers flexing against your body as you suck on the tip of his tongue. His hips rut up against you slowly, a whine from your throat making you pull away, dragging your lips down his jaw. 

"Can I take care of you, baby?" You murmur against the shell of his ear, making him shiver as you nip at the lobe, a quiet please from his throat. His hands twitch at your sides, soft whines from his lips as you trail your tongue down the slope of his neck. You feel his fingers move to fumble with the buttons of your vest, before he untucks your shirt, sliding his hands slightly under it to feel the heat of your skin against his. 

"I love you so much." He mumbles as you kiss his swollen lips again chastely, your fingers undoing your shirt buttons as he watches your face with low eyes. His hands snake higher on your stomach, before the tips of fingers brush your bare breasts. His eyes widen as he pulls away, jaw falling slack as he sees your lack of undergarments. "Baby." "Just enjoy it." You roll your eyes, shivering as he runs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. He leans forward slightly, before your hand cards through his hair. "This is not about me." "You said enjoy it. How can I, if you don't let me?" He scoffs, moving your hand from its spot on the nape of his neck, pulling you forward into his mouth. His tongue swirls expertly around the hardened nub, your hand finding and digging into the back of the couch. Heeseung feels his head spinning as he breathes you in, the soft scent of his favorite perfume on your skin. You groan quietly as your hips roll against his, a soft fuck from your lips as he carefully drags his teeth on the sensitive bud. He moves to the other side, your hand tangling in his hair again as he plants wet kisses across your chest. "So perfect for me." He murmurs, flattening his tongue against your nipple as his hands move to undo your belt. He pulls it through the loops within seconds, tossing it aside and palming your ass over your pants, moving you over his bulge slowly. He relishes in the sounds you make, whimpers from your throat making his cock twitch in his pants as he continues to lap at your chest. "Always so fucking beautiful. You make me insane."

You whine in response, pulling his head away from your chest and reconnecting your lips. He feels your hand snake down between your bodies, palming at his hardened cock through his sweatpants. He groans into your mouth, his hips rutting into your hand involuntarily. You slip your tongue in his mouth, letting him messily kiss you back as he tangles a hand in your hair – your own beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at them gently. He obliges, lifting his hips for you to pull them down to his knees. You pull away from his lips as much as the hand in your hair will allow, your hand wrapping around his leaking cock gently. He shudders as you stroke him, whining against your lips when you pull his hand out of your hair, sliding off his lap and settling between his knees. He lets out a breath as you glance up at him through thick lashes, before pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. His hands move back to your hair, gathering it into a messy ponytail as you continue to drag your lips around his skin, faint lipstick stains marking your path. He feels his stomach cave the moment you swirl your tongue around his tip, a broken moan cutting through the air.

"S'fucking pretty like this…" He groans, watching as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks slightly. Your tongue laps at the underside of his cock, following the thick vein as his tip hits the back of your throat. Gagging around him, you feel his hips jerk up involuntarily, a murmured apology as you pull off, shaking your head. "Want it, want you to do that." 

Your ears are watery as you look up at him, your hand wrapped around his shaft as his lips parted in a soft grunt. He wipes his thumb across your lower lip before he takes his cock in his hand, "Beautiful."

You feel your cheeks flush, not responding to the compliment as he opens your mouth for you. You stick out your tongue, making him smirk as he slides the heavy head of his cock on it. You blink up at him before you sink down on him, hearing a soft sigh fall from his lips. He rocks his hips up slowly, throwing his head back with a whimper as you gag around him.

"Feel s'fucking good, baby. Love you so much, fuck…" You feel your skin prickle at the praise, your eyes brimming with tears as the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, a groan making him shiver. "Always so good to me…"

You hum as best as you can, feeling his hand tighten in your hair as the tell-tale whimper falls from your husband's lips. He pulls you off almost reluctantly, staring up at the ceiling and biting down on his lip as you look up at him, seeing his chest move in shallow breaths. "Hee–" "Need to feel you." He pulls you off your knees by your wrists, making you slide your knee between his for balance. His lips feel frantic as he kisses you messily, groaning at the slight taste of himself inside your mouth as you try to keep up. "Need to cum inside you, baby." His lips ghost over yours as he unbuttons your slacks, your teeth nipping at his bottom lip as he hooks his thumbs into the belt loops. You let him tug them down, stepping out of them when he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your skin. "Take it off." "What, do you want me to strip for you?" You roll your eyes, and he smirks lightly. "We can spin that back another time. Take it off." You oblige, feeling your husband's hands wrap around your thighs as you kick your underwear off to the side. He pulls you forward, instinctively making you straddle him slightly before he looks up, his hand snaking between your thighs. "Do you need–"

You shake your head quickly as he glides his fingers through your wet folds, his eyes widening as you shiver. He holds his hand up to the light, your arousal stringy between his fingers, gathering around his wedding band. He peers up at you, "Really?" "Shut up." Your cheeks burn as he scoffs out a laugh, before running his tongue over his fingers. "All fours, please." He tilts his head towards the free space on the couch, your eyes narrowing as you do as he says, hearing the thwip of his shirt being pulled over his head. 

"You know," You mumble as you settle on your elbows, "This is not-ah!" The warm feeling of Heeseung's tongue on your clit makes you jolt, and you feel him smile into your skin as his hands rest on your hips. He groans as you push your hips against his face, your fingers digging into the couch cushion as you whine into the brown suede. "So fucking wet, for what? A little kissing?" He's talking down to you, amused at the way your pussy clenches around his tongue, your whimper muffled by your shirt sleeve, "I love you." "Yeah? My messy girl loves me?" His voice is clearer now, and you feel his hand grip your hip as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds with a hiss. You push back against him with a whine, earning a firm smack to the back of your thigh. "Behave. You can wait."

You can hear him mutter under his breath as he ruts against you, his breathing shaky as he holds you steady. You feel him sink inside you slowly, the wet squelch making your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you whimper at the stretch. "I know honey, I know." Heeseung's voice is almost goading as he rocks into you slowly, biting down on his lip as you clench around him. "You take me so well, baby. Just love this dick, huh?" He holds your hips tight as you nod, your voice lost on you as he brushes that spongy spot inside you. You're pliant in his hands, your eyes rolling back when you feel his hand come down on your ass sharply, a moan falling from your lips into the cushion.

"Filthy little thing." He mutters, running his hand over the reddened skin. "Love being treated like a slut, don't you?" His fingers move to hold onto your waist, hearing you mumble something before leaning down slightly. "Don't you?" "Yours. Your slut." You mumble as you nod shyly, the duality making his chest ache as he coos. "All mine, yeah? Get this wet for me only, right?" The sound of your soft moans is almost drowned out by the smack of his hips against your ass. 

"Always feel so good around me, baby, shit.." His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you up carefully. You whimper as your back hits his chest, your hand holding onto the back of the couch as he bullies his cock into you. He feels you clamp down around him, your skin hot to the touch as he slides his hand down, circling your clit with his fingers.

"Always take such good care of me, my gorgeous girl. My wife, fuck, I love you." He mutters into your neck, his eyes catching your earrings swinging as he nips at your skin. You whine inwardly, looking away from him as you clench around him, your orgasm on the tip of your tongue as he thrusts into you. 

His hand moves from your hair to cradle your face, turning you just slightly to see the fucked out glaze in your eyes, your lips swollen and slick with spit. He smiles softly, brushing his lips over yours, "I love you."

You close your eyes as he kisses you messily, nothing but teeth and tongue as your orgasm washes over you, a whiny moan into your husband's mouth. He carefully tugs off your vest and shirt, "Just a little more baby, almost there. Gonna fill you up, yeah?" "Y-Yeah." You whimper as he lets you fall forward slowly, your trembling thighs only egging him on as he runs his hands over your bare back. "So fucking perfect. S-Such a perfect woman, could never ask for anyone better. M-My angel, my everything." He's rambling, forcing himself to focus as he overstimulates you chasing his orgasm. You mewl into the cushion relentlessly, pushing against him when he notices you holding your hand out behind your back. He interlocks your fingers, before spilling inside you with a whimper. He shudders above you, your hand squeezing his gently before you let go. He digs his fingers into your hips deeply, earning a groan as you shakily try to sit up on your elbows. You only manage to push back on him, a choked moan ringing through the air as he grabs at your hips. He winces as he pulls out carefully, his eyes glued to the way you clench around nothing with soft breaths. His fingers ghost over your hole as you push his release out, not realizing how sensitive you are as he smears it all over your glistening folds. "H-Heeseung!" You reach back to swat at him, making his eyes snap up to look at you. He smiles sheepishly, apologizing under his breath as he wipes his fingers on his shirt. 

"You okay?" He murmurs, his cheeks aflame as he realizes how spent you are, your hips almost giving out as he holds you up. You give him a tired nod, "We cannot fuck on my precious couch again. People sit here." He scoffs, and you feel the soft cotton of his shirt wiping down your legs. You feel him shift behind you, flinching when you feel his shirt wiping between your thighs. "Can't we just shower?" "We can, but I can't lie…I kind of like watching it drip out." He admits quietly, and you roll your eyes. "I feed so many of your guilty pleasures, but this is one I'm going to cut short. I'm all sticky." "I can make you stickier, if you want." He runs his hands up your thighs, and you scoff as you use your remaining strength to flip yourself onto your back. He's red in the face, and not just from your lipstick, his eyes glued to your center. "Hee, stop. You fucking freak." "This fucking freak is your husband, I'd be nicer to me if I were you. I suggest you tell me you love me, that's a pretty good start." He shrugs, acting nonchalant as he leans down. You give him an amused look as you run your fingers through his hair, "And I married you, why?" "Because I'm tall, tan, young, lovely." He shrugs, making you snort. "Girl from Ipanema, is that you?" "I love you." He wrinkles his nose as you press a soft kiss to it, his hands carefully moving your hair out of your eyes. "Thank you. I didn't realize how much I needed this. How much I…need you. I'm sorry it's taken me this long, baby." Your cheeks warm at his confession, your thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. "I love you. I'm always here when you need a little TLC." "And when I don't?" "And when I do, and when I don't. Whenever, you know I'm here." You assure softly, his eyes slightly glazed over as you press a chaste kiss to his lips. "However, I will admit…my TLC of preference right now is a hot shower. Care to join me?" "You and your hot showers. Can you even stand up?"

"If I can't, it just means you can eat me out in the shower." You shrug, seeing the wheels turn in your husband's head as he locks your legs around his waist. A shriek falls from your lips as he picks you up, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he moves towards the bathroom with a kiss to your lips. "And suddenly, I too, love hot showers. Shall we?"

Tuesday, 12:33pm.

It'd been a few weeks since you and Heeseung reached out to the Cha family, and the case had been officially declared closed by the Seventh Precinct. However, such a reappearance after so many years for such a prolific family meant many, many interviews and involvement with the press. It meant seeing Chaeyoung and her husband, as well as her family over and over again, even when it came to things that weren't about her.

Your relationship was still not perfect – with you and Heeseung slowly working through your issues, things got easier. He managed to submit the paperwork for his vacation to start on Friday, and had some final things to settle at the Seoul Central District Court with a few attorneys involved in a case he and Jay were attempting to break into. He'd called you to meet him and Sunoo for lunch and a meeting to bring you on as an expert witness, as you had a short day in the office.

Short day in the office does not warrant a short day outside of it, though – and you found your husband crowded by reporters and flashing cameras as you tried to quietly make your way into the courthouse. You hoped they wouldn't see you – Heeseung had been pissed enough already when a few reporters dragged your name through the mud when Chaeyoung gave her side of the story, pictures of you that he loved now torn to shreds by internet trolls and what little social media you did have had been flooded with hateful comments. You wound up deleting everything, and staying away from your phone as much as possible. Heeseung arranged private security, and even had Sunghoon assigned to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity around you. 

Nothing had happened, and you were sure nothing would – but you couldn't lie, you felt safer when you and Heeseung were behind the locked doors of your home, hidden away in your bedroom.

You could hear the reporters shouting questions at Heeseung, the tick in his jaw evident as he answered one question at a time. You watch from afar a bit, your facemask protecting you from being discovered as you inch closer. You can see his patience begin to thin and you're about to barrel down the steps to him when you hear a reporter shout over all the others.

"Lieutenant, your wife has been dragged by the media in all forms. What are your thoughts on that, considering that Jeon Chaeyoung was once your life-long friend?" Heeseung's face hardens, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he speaks.

"I have nothing to say on Mrs. Jeon, I cannot understand why she'd speak about Dr. Lee that way. Please write that down, put that into the world. She's not just my wife, she's her own person and she had a huge role in this case. I would have lost my mind if it weren't for her, and her impact should not be reduced simply because we're married." You feel your chest fill with warmth as you take a few more steps down, a reporter spotting you and you press a finger to your facemask, your wedding ring making her eyes widen. She says nothing as you listen to Heeseung speak.

"Dr. Lee was a pertinent witness to the entire case, and had she not been involved, had she not said something, Mrs. Jeon's case would've remained open and no one would know of her whereabouts. Her family had been in absolute shambles for the last nine years, and frankly, as harsh as it sounds, I'm glad that it's finally over. Dr. Lee is not to blame for whatever upset feelings Mrs. Jeon may have, or whatever resentment she may have towards myself. If she wants to drag anyone through the dirt, she might as well drag me. Dr. Lee is entirely innocent in this, she was a huge stepping stone in bridging crucial pieces of information together and restoring the Cha family. In other words, keep my wife's name out of your mouth unless you're praising her. I'm tired of hearing this, so I have nothing more to say on the matter."

Your eyes are wide as he shrugs, before the reporter who spotted you makes a few moves up the steps, trying not to alert anyone else. You tilt your head at her, and she quietly steps up to you. She holds her recorder up slightly, and you nod, beckoning her closer with your hand.

"Dr. Lee, how do you feel about Lieutenant Lee coming to your defense amongst the influx of hate from netizens?" You lean down to her to speak into the small microphone, clearing your throat. "I think Lieutenant Lee is one of the most kind-hearted, driven, loving people in my life. There's a reason he's my husband, you know. I couldn't ask for a better man." The reporter's eyes soften as Heeseung turns around, bidding the reporters a goodbye as he buttons his coat up, trekking back up the stairs. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours as you give him a little wave. He walks up to you, giving the reporter a curt nod before slipping his fingers in yours. 

The reporter gives you a soft thank you, before walking down the steps. You let Heeseung guide you up the steps, and glance over your shoulder to see reporters taking photos of the two of you from behind. You nudge him with your elbow, and he looks down at you. "Yes?" "Kiss me." You tilt your head towards the reporters, and he snorts as the two of you reach the doors. "You sure?" "Positive." You nod as you pull your mask off, the camera flashes almost blinding as they watch you press your lips to Heeseung's, his arm wrapping around your waist as his hand cradles your cheek. Your lipstick stains his mouth as you pull away, and you give the reporters a cheeky thumbs up as he pulls you into the courthouse.

Sunoo's eyes are wide as you walk into his quarters with Heeseung, your lipstick now also stamped on his cheek from a kiss you gave him in the hallway. He smiles warmly as you offer a hug, embracing you tightly. "God, it's so nice to see you in love." He murmurs into your hair, patting your back before you all take a seat at his desk. The three of you are going over the options for lunch when you hear a knock at the door, your head whipping around to see your mother entering the office. Your eyes widen, and Heeseung is up before you know it. He's greeting her warmly, her face remaining stoic as he takes her coat. She looks tired, and you stand on shaky legs.

"Hello, Mother." You say softly, your eyes flickering to Heeseung and Sunoo as they stand to the side. She steps in front of you, her eyes scanning you carefully. You wince as she steps slightly closer, only for her to breathe out softly.

"I wanted to speak to you earlier this week, amidst everything in the media. However, I'm too prolific and I worried I'd be followed to your home, so I left a few messages on your answering machine. I assume you didn't receive them, so is now a good time?" She's still professional, your mother had no idea how to be comforting or warm. You nod slowly, shoving your trembling hands into your coat. "S-Sure. Yeah, we can talk." Your mother had never cared who was around when she spoke to you about anything. It was one of the more mortifying things about her, but she made up for it by keeping her voice quiet enough that only you could hear her.

"May I touch you?" She asks with a twinge in her voice you'd never heard, and you nod slowly. "Okay." She doesn't wait for another second, throwing her arms around you as she pulls you into a tight embrace. Your eyes are wide as you look at Heeseung and Sunoo, their own the size of saucers as you awkwardly wrap your arms around her. "Are you…alright?" "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I read everything that you said in your interviews, about Chaeyoung and her reasons behind leaving, and how deeply you understood her dilemma. I never realized I was pushing you away, and I'm incredibly sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn't supportive of your dreams or career choices. I know that this may be a too little, too late sort of situation, but I couldn't let more time go by without letting you know how proud I am of you and everything you've accomplished, not just as a professional but as a woman, as my daughter, as a wife."

Your eyes are stinging with tears as Heeseung's jaw drops, your mother pulling back to cup your face in her hands. "And I'll sue that little bitch for all she has for dragging you through the mud. I'll do it, I'll wring her dry of every asset she's ever acquired."

Her eyes are full of tears as you gape at her, before she presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much, darling. I'm so, so sorry."

"Mom-" "I'm so glad to have you, darling. Please don't disappear on me, I promise you I cannot handle it." You let her pull you back into her embrace, the tears streaming down your cheeks before she pulls away quickly. "Alright, I've got a meeting I'm running late to. I just saw you in the window and I needed to pop in and talk to you. As you were, I'll give you a call later." She gives the three of you a curt nod, before taking her coat and skirting back out of Sunoo's office.

The three of you are silent, your arms wrapped around yourself as you cover your mouth with your hand. You don't wipe your tears as they stream down, and you look up at the men staring at you in shock. "She said she's proud of me." You whine suddenly, and Heeseung lets out a soft laugh as you walk into his embrace, Sunoo smiling to himself as Heeseung strokes your hair, sharing a glance with his long-time friend as you sob into his shirt. "Oh, my baby. You deserve all that and more."

"Should we push the meeting? I think we've got a lot of big feelings to work out, Dr. Lee." Sunoo speaks up gently, and you pout as Heeseung agrees before you can say anything. You mumble out an apology, but Sunoo shakes his head, waving you off. "Let me lead you out the backway, those reporters would have a ball with your crying face."

"Shut up, Sunoo." You scoff, making him snicker as he leads you both out of his office, your head bowed as you let Heeseung hide you from onlookers. You both quietly thanked Sunoo as he opened the door for you and bid you farewell, saying he'd try and get everything done before Heeseung's allotted vacation time. They agreed to meet again on Thursday, with Sunoo giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

"Give yourself some more credit, Y/N. You deserve it."

Saturday, 4:44pm.

"You found it? You look so beautiful, holy shit." Heeseung was laid on the bed, held up by his elbows as you stood in front of the mirror, a quizzical look on your face as you clipped in your earrings. You purse your lips, turning to face him, the sarong skirt of the dress he'd made you swinging slightly.

"You sure? It's not too…showy?" You pout, running your hands over the soft white fabric. You'd dug this dress back out specifically for this occasion, renewing your vows with your husband on a simple vacation in the middle of nowhere. By middle of nowhere, you mean the same field he proposed to you in, two hours out of Seoul and likely full of flowers this time of year.

"Baby, it's just you and me. You can be as showy as you want in your dress, as bummy as you want in your sweatpants. You're fucking angelic." He pulls you to him by your hips, "I did great on this hem, you can't lie." "Wonderful, yes." You roll your eyes, feeling his hands snake under the skirt. You allow it, feeling your cheeks warm as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip. "Let me go down on you." You sigh, rubbing your temples as your husband presses a kiss to your cleavage. "Heeseung, the sun is going to set and we're going to be doing this in the dark." "Can I go down on you after?" He questions, not really paying attention as he stands, his hands low on your back as he pulls you to him. "Heeseung." "Two orgasms, right after we're done, on the hood of my car." He offers, making you snort. "One orgasm, after we're done, in the backseat." "I'll take it!" He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, making you giggle as he lands a soft smack to your ass. "Stop it!" "You love me! Now get your cute ass in the car, we've got shit to do."

And it feels easy. It feels light, sitting next to Heeseung as he pulls out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding your fingers tightly. It feels good, listening to your husband sing along softly to soft jazz songs on the radio before you plug in your phone, and then hearing him sing along to your playlists. It feels like getting a breath of fresh air when you see the afternoon sunlight beaming on his skin, his white shirt reflecting the light painfully into your eyes. It feels like the way your heart starts beating a little faster when you catch a whiff of his spicy cologne, your eyes falling on him with a soft smile. It feels like an emotional orgasm when he times playing No Song Without You by HONNE perfectly to when you arrive, your pout being kissed off frantically by your attentive, doting husband. It feels like falling in love when he holds you close, pressing his lips anywhere you'd allow him to as you both reach into your pockets for the thick packets of words you've written. It feels like falling in love when he goes off script, holding the papers in his hand as he looks into your eyes. It feels like falling in love when he kisses your tears off your face as you tell him how much you appreciate his changes, it feels like falling in love when he says you should never thank him for doing what's right. It feels like falling in love, when he pulls a box out of his pocket and presents yet another gold ring to add to your set, with your initials engraved on the outside.

It feels like falling in love with he suggests you both pick flowers from the field to press when you get home. It feels like falling in love when he holds your hand and pulls you close when you've wandered too far, it feels like falling in love when he's kissing you against the hood of his car. It feels like falling in love when he carries you into the backseat and you wind up naked in his lap, a whining and writhing mess as he tells you how pretty you are, how much he loves you, how bad he wants to get you pregnant so everyone knows you're his. It feels like falling in love, when on the ride home, he can't keep his hands off you.

It feels like falling in love, when he wastes no time getting you in the bedroom, your dress on the floor with his shirt and pants. It feels like falling in love when he draws a bath for the two of you, it feels like falling in love when he tells you I love you as he washes your hair, your body, your face.

It feels like falling in love again, but this time? You don't feel like you're falling alone.

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

but heeseung started to slowly doubt this speciality of his, especially when it came to his bestfriend. and his little sister, you.

jeno has always been a great friend of heeseung, their small age gap making the two feel comfortable with one another immediately after meeting. the friendship had a click of some sort, almost making them feel like they’ve known each other for decades when they’ve only been friends for a handful amount of months.

and heeseung wasn’t stopping his grateful and happy emotions to spill out whenever he was with jeno, the kind hearted guy that he always saw as a solid, constant figure in his life and future.

the issue came for heeseung when you, jeno’s cute little sister that he always seemed to eye for a bit too long, got into a relationship.

your first relationship at that.

jeno, as your older brother was rightfully protective, giving you advice every chance he could after checking up on you and your boyfriend, soobin. whom always rubbed jeno the wrong way. but he didn’t have the courage to point it out to you and potentially break your heart, it was a risk he could never take.

but if there was someone that was even more concerned and even more protective— overly protective even, than jeno. it was heeseung.

there was something about soobin that always seemed to just not settle with heeseung. he couldn’t tell if it was his weirdly ‘forgetful memory’ as you liked to call it, or the way his eyes were constantly glued to his phone whenever you four decided to hang out. not giving you a singular ounce of the attention you deserved.

his behaviour towards you, his own girlfriend, was dry. cold. dismissive. and he couldn’t tell if jeno was purposefully turning a blind eye into this, but it was so clearly hurting you.

especially with the way your shoulders would visibly slump whenever you would excitedly tell soobin about an a new event that happened during your lecture, an interest that had your eyes sparkling while he would just nod mindlessly along to your words. vision obstructed and glued onto his stupid phone screen that irritated heeseung to no end. he could see the disappointment rising in you when soobin would pay you no attention. so passive in his responses, so visible that he did not care.

and it was angering heeseung so tremendously. setting him off like a ticking bomb that would explode at the guy any second but he kept holding himself back.

for the sake of jeno. for the sake of you. after all, he was just a friend.

and he couldn’t tell if soobin’s attitude towards you angered him more, or the fact that he was always going to be stuck under the ‘friend’ title in your life.

heeseung had developed feelings for you way before you got into a relationship with soobin, might even be a mere month after jeno introduced you to him. he had always had his eyes lingering on you. a soft, gentle glint in them whenever your presence was surrounding him in any way.

he believed that it was just him forming a soft spot for you in his heart in the beginning, but as time passed by, especially after soobin ruined everything in heeseung’s opinion, his feelings grew. becoming a solidified fact for heeseung instead of a mere reverie that he cooed about in his head.

yet for the longest time, he knew he had to keep his emotions hidden again. falling back into his old routine of covering, blanketing his feelings. hiding and cowering away in fear of your brother finding out and the dear connection that heeseung held so close to his heart ending.

so he bit his tongue. holding back any words, any opinions, any thoughts and of course any emotions that were related to you and soobin. swallowing back his anger that swirled sombrely in the pit of his stomach. though no one was taking notice of his hatred towards soobin, it was only growing more and more day by day.

like a foul stench that would blind your senses, an evil beast that festered malignantly. his distaste towards soobin became a hardened feeling. a prominent one that settled in the front of his chest. growing and branching between his ribs to only pulse in hatred whenever he saw the guy.

he wasn’t sure how long he’ll be able to hide these feelings though.

because not only was he now dealing with the fact that he had to fight himself back from punching soobin everytime he saw him, he also had his own completely opposite emotions that bloomed like the breathtaking petals of a flower when graced by spring sunlight, his undying and thriving pure love for you.

it made his heart ache in dull pain when he saw the damage soobin was causing to you. his own insides ripping apart whenever you would come crying onto jeno’s shoulder because of another argument with your jerk of a boyfriend, he was growing tired. almost as tired as you were becoming from holding his shaking fists back from marking soobin’s god forsaken face. tired from actually capturing his tongue between his teeth before vile words spilled past his lips towards him.

he was so tired with this routine. so sickened of the way you were struggling and struggling. stuck in a bubble of anguish and pain formed by soobin that no one was able to pop.

but heeseung always carried a needle around, for safe measures.

the rainy day you decided to frantically knock on his door, your sobs echoing in his house when you buried your face into his chest because you actually found another girl’s number in the same phone that soobin had his eyes stuck on. was the day that heeseung finally snapped.

fuck all of this.

fuck soobin. fuck jeno. fuck both of their feelings. he had you, who so clearly needed a massive amount of attention, of care and love to pour all over your fresh wound that ached in heeseung’s embrace. he felt his heart shattering into the tiniest pieces when you sobbed in his hold. the desperate grip your fingers had on his arms pulling at his insides as he felt his own tears aligning his waterline.

he hated to see you like this. so heartbroken and devastated over a guy that didn’t even deserve you one bit. he would’ve never treated you like soobin. not even for a single second. heeseung would’ve treated you so much better if only you had looked at him the way he’s always been looking at you for the past months.

if only you took notice of the longing in his eyes. the yearn that clawed at his heartstrings whenever he saw you in front of him. right within arm’s reach but so so far away.

but that didn’t matter anymore. you were finally away from soobin, that fucker was out of your life and you were in heeseung’s arms. heeseung’s embrace that felt so warm, so welcoming as you fit perfectly in his hold. so right.

so you stayed, feeling the safety and comfort that seeped through your body in heeseung’s presence. a peace of mind that you’ve never felt with anyone, not even with your own brother. that lulled you into calmness, heeseung’s gentle touch that brushed against the skin of your face and neck when he would tenderly caress you as he whispered sweet, calming words to your ear that made the raging storm inside of you sizzle down.

the hurt, the pain and all the agony was pushed aside. stuffed inside of a box discarded into the back of your brain. your head throbbed in pain at the excessive amount of crying you did in heeseung’s arms. a pulsing ache that travelled from the back of your skull to the end of your spine as you sniffled quietly in his arms.

“feeling better, precious?” he whispered quietly, voice barely audible. so soft and delicate as if he was scared that any unexpected move or sound will scare you. make you cower away in fear. he knew how to speak to you. how to touch you and handle you just the right way.

so affectionate, calm and delicate when handling you. touch as soft as a baby bird’s feather as if you were made of glass, the most precious material that could break and crumble with the slightest incorrect move.

he made you feel so seen, so understood and cared for. you weren’t too much for him as soobin claimed you to be. not attention seeking or annoying at all.

“not really..” you closed your eyes, wet lashes heavy with tear droplets that didn’t have the chance to roll down your face, he looked at you. in his eyes an unfamiliar glow. unable to pinpoint or understand exactly what he was feeling, all he knew was that he wanted you close to him.

“what can i do to make you feel better, pearl?” the new petname that rolled off his tongue so easily had your heart leaping in your chest, you opened your eyes. glossy vision landing on his own expectant one, he was implying something with his words. both of you aware of the sharp edge in his tone, an invitation that he had slipped towards you. waiting for you to pick it up and accept.

“make me forget about him..” your warm breath fanned over his face, the feeling of finally having you so close made his head spin. a carnal, hidden urge in him awakening after being discarded and thrown away for so long. stuffed deep inside of him for months, a crippling desire. a wicked desire to have you, has surged forward again.

his emotions, feelings, thoughts everything about you that were invalidated by his rational side. concealed in the name of his morals and beliefs that he’s wrong. he shouldn’t desire a taken woman, shouldn’t look at his own best friend’s little sister wrongly, were all springing back to life. enlivened at your mere presence. your mere existence and attendance in his hold. and heeseung was no longer holding himself back.

he didn’t care if what he was going to be doing aligned with his stupid morals and beliefs anymore. didn’t care if you were to wake up tomorrow regretting everything. didn’t care if he wasn’t going to be able to look at jeno in the eye again. he was finally given a taste of you.

not a whisper of you, not a piece of you, you were entirely served on a silver platter for him only to devour. to ravish. to feast on with ardour. to finally satisfy and satiate the hunger that always ached in his stomach for you.

you were finally here. between his fingertips. within arm’s reach, looking at him. staring into his eyes and not only looking at the devoted shine in them directed towards you, you were reciprocating it.

“yeah? that’s what you want, pretty?” he leaned down, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. you closed your eyes at the intimacy. a warmth spreading inside of you before settling into your core. dripping. that’s what you were. absolutely soaked.

“i want you.” you spoke, hit with an unknown urge to only speak the truth. removing each and every filter from your mind and mouth as you let your tongue speak whatever your brain formed at that current moment. and you wanted heeseung.

and who was he to deny you of that?

your sultry eyes that looked at him in pure lust asking him that? he was gone. your vixen like manners wrapping him in a chokehold. he was such a weak man for you. determined on pleasing you to the best of his ability, make you lose count on the amounts of times he’ll push you towards your high just so you can think about him and how good your pretty little cunt feels.

and so heeseung started, laying you on your stomach atop his satin sheets with your hands behind you, restrained by his fastened belt around your wrists while you squirmed on his bed. long, thick fingers that worked past your sopping entrance. leaking mushy walls tightened around his digits as if welcoming them for being inside of your needy pussy. fuck you were drenched.

“what a greedy cunt.. sucking my fingers in like this, wonder how long you’ve been waiting for this, pearl.” he laughed behind you, busy taking in the way your slick was drizzling down his palm, the way your puffy swollen folds swallowed in his long fingers entirely. the wet sounds from his abuse against your sweet spot was the cherry on top for him.

he was so fucking hard in his pants. his briefs feeling unbearably tight. heeseung breathed out short huffs of breaths, working his way to stretch your tight pussy open before fucking you on his length that he was sure you couldn’t take.

especially not with the way you were moaning and thrashing in his bed just from his fingers.

but who could blame you? he felt so good. his elongated fingers brushing against all of your sweet spots so deliciously. you could only imagine how mouth watering his cock would feel when he finally decides to fuck you like you’ve always dreamed of.

you couldn’t deny the attraction you’ve held for heeseung. the twinge at your heart that hoped to tug you towards him, an unknown pull that always made you stay up late at night thinking about heeseung. wondering about heeseung. dreaming about heeseung.

and for the longest time, it made you feel so guilty. so ashamed of the fact that you were thinking of your friend more than your own boyfriend. yet at the same time you heard a tiny voice in your head justifying your actions, a small part of you knew that your boyfriend was really anything but a boyfriend.

you did notice his passive behaviour. his curt responses and cold attitude towards you. but did you actually have the courage to confront soobin about it? to bring it up as an actual issue that was clearly building a separating wall between you two in your relationship? of course no. you decided to turn into a blind eye and hold faith in false beliefs that maybe, just maybe soobin will change one day.

except that day never came. it was never going to.

and the rational, logical part of you knew this. knew this so so well that it decided to give up on soobin long before your heart realised the change in your desire. the change in your mind, the way your thoughts quickly turned from being clouded with soobin, to being thundered with your beloved friend heeseung.

you didn’t even realise you had such a drastic change of heart. only coming to the chilling notion of how when you were with soobin, heeseung roamed your mind. when you were talking to jeno. heeseung was filling the back of your head. when soobin was trying to make dry love that lacked any sense of passion with you, you were left to fend for yourself with your fingers, and heeseung in your brain. heeseung on your thoughts, the whisper of ‘heeseung’ on your tongue when you finally reached the climax soobin couldn’t bring you to.

and in the beginning you were scared, terrified even of the thumping in your chest that you were sure anyone could hear if they stepped close enough to you when you were around heeseung. scared of the way your eyes would stray too far away from soobin and remain stuck on heeseung for too long. scared of the way you were only staying in your current relationship not out of love, but out of attachment to soobin when you yearned for heeseung.

hence why the only relief that you found in your love life was in your dreams. your unconscious daydreams that would conjure up a love story, a love vessel that branched between you and heeseung. every night with no fail.

yet you didn’t have to worry about this anymore. no longer tied emotionally to the false, unrealistic images and feelings that only existed in your head about heeseung. not when you had him currently groaning out praises to you, showering you with so much love and attention that you missed out on as he fucked you through your first orgasm on his fingers.

“such a good girl for me.. cumming around my fingers so well. my obedient little girl.” he trailed kisses from the back of your thighs, wet smacks of his lips against your skin till he reached your shoulder, where he traced his long tongue along your neck. “think you’re ready for me, precious?” he whispered lustfully into your ear. and god did he sound so much better. so much hotter than in your dreams.

voice almost gruff, an entire octave lower than his usual tone as he pressed his warm body against yours. brushing the exposed, leaking head of his cock and separating your oozing lower lips after discarding himself from his clothes. he was so menacing. teasing you so much when all your body ached for was to be filled up to the brim with his length.

“so needy for me.. look at your cunt trying to suck me in, pearl.” he hissed, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight of the same hole that he just fucked open with his fingers gaping at him. dribbling more of your syrupy nectar down your inner thighs as if to seduce him. winking at him when you tightened around nothing just to entice him further. making a wave of thrill pass through his body just so he would fill you up.

and well, heeseung was a very weak, weak man when it came to you.

he pushed the head of his cock in. the two of you hissing in sync, your pretty plump lips falling in an ‘o’ shape while he bit on his lower lip, your gushing walls wrapped around him so tightly the first time he sunk his cock in you. as if greeting him, their new owner before moulding into his shape.

if heeseung stared at your form any longer, he would’ve came inside of you already, ruining both of your fun. but goodness was seeing you twitching in his bed, plush thighs pushed to the sides so he can stuff his cock inside of you so fully while your arms shook and jerked around his own belt was a divine sight. one he quickly imprinted onto his brain to always go back to whenever needed.

but something told him that that wasn’t going to happen, he doesn’t need to depend on his memory anymore. he felt like he was going to be able to experience the real deal after this.

he pushed his hips forward, thrusting in and brushing right against your g-spot that had you whining his name almost automatically. “found it..” he smirked in victory, “that’s your weak spot isn’t it, pearl?” leaning down just a bit to inch closer to your ear, “your sweet sweet spot, baby.” you felt tears aligning your eyes. glossing over when he continued to nudge his hips against your spot. the one corner in your walls that had you seeing stars.

legs already shaking under him, you mewled his name so adorably. each huff and puff of air past your glistening lips made his heart skip a beat. he was growing even more obsessed with you than he already was. “y-yes seung.. that’s— oh my god.. that’s it!” you whined and sobbed for him.

heeseung sucked a deep breath in, lips kissing his teeth as his body felt like it was lit ablaze. so many months of daydreaming about this current moment that he was in right now paid off. you felt so hot. so pliant. so malleable under him. body reacting to each touch of his so sweetly, like your body recognised his as its other half before either of you did.

“such a good- haah shit.. such a good pussy.. sucking me in so well. you feel fuckin’ divine, pretty.” his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the way your cunt just kept gushing and sputtering out wetness before wrapping around his cock and sucking him back in deep. so so deep he was bruising your insides.

“j-just for you daddy..” a broken, quiet sentence that was almost unheard. almost went unnoticed. but heeseung was so glad he caught it. as the second that endearing name fell past your parted lips, he felt an entire electric shock shoot through his spine.

his mind was reeling, breaths growing uneven as your voice played like a broken record in his head, so pretty. so small. so frail and so delicate. as sensitive and precious as an actual pearl you were. heeseung was sinking in so much deeper in love than he already was with you.

“yeah, little girl? daddy’s making you feel good, isn’t he?” he was so careful. each move of his made solely for the purpose of pleasing you. of pushing you closer and closer to your peak of pleasure. and before you realised it, your climax broke down upon you like a dam. tears rolling down your cheeks and onto heeseung’s pillowcases as he fucked you through your high.

god did it feel so relieving. so alleviating to have someone put your pleasure first, to push you to your pleasure first. to care for you, think about you and make love to you for you. it was so different. so delicious you couldn’t help but ravish in the ecstasy of it all. your first ever experience of pure, arrant love.

it wasn’t only heeseung that was getting high off of the pleasure of experiencing you for the first time, your mind was also reeling from experiencing such pleasure for the first time. “s’good daddy.. too good! you feel so warm.” hicupping and babbling on as heeseung only continued to thrust in more harshly.

he felt so feverish, the temperature of his body rising while his room turned steamier. it was almost as if he could no longer breathe. not that his mind registered that feeling in the first place, the only thing he could process was the way your pussy was trying to suck him back in more and more and more.

he leaned forward, allowing his hot exhales of breath to fan against your ear. hand sneaking between your shaking thighs and circling around your clit. “you can give daddy another one, can’t you pearl?” he whimpered next to your ear. his eyelids droopy as he held back on his own climax.

he rolled his hips in circular motion against yours, no longer thrusting his leaking cock in and out and only pressing his mushroom shaped tip onto your cervix, the sensation of him so close, so deep and so hot on top and inside of you made your eyes roll to the back of your head, his movements incessant as he worked and guided your body towards another release.

“f-fuck..” sobbing under heeseung as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, he cooed besides your ear as his hands quickly unclasped his belt from around your wrists, making your hands grip desperately onto the sheets while his laced around your shaking legs, tongue peeking out to lick against your tears as he felt relief in his chest at the sight of you crying from pure pleasure and not over your ex.

the feeling of being so intimately connected to you, having you entrust him with your body and pleasure made his head reel. you being so close to him was a dream come true for heeseung. and now that he had you in tears underneath him, he was never going to be able to let go of this moment.

every second of this night has already been engraved in his head. every emotion and every fast thump of his heart tattooed itself on his memory, and it made him feel so good. so accomplished, he felt complete.

he buried his face in your neck, relishing in the way your body was shivering because of him, the goosebumps that aligned your skin because of his touch, relishing in the feeling of having you around him in every way. “you feel so good, princess..” he drunkenly spoke, his orgasm creeping up on him as he continued to grind against you.

“wrapped around daddy so well, pearl.” he groaned, every sniffle and whimper that left your mouth due to his lewd words went straight to his throbbing cock, he felt like he was seconds away from releasing and filling you up entirely. the thought alone making his jaw clench in delirium.

“want daddy to fill you up, baby?” he whispered, his smirk evident in his whisper. luring you slowly into his trap that seemed so effective with the way you whimpered for him and tightened around him more. so pleased, ecstatic and needy of the mere idea.

“p-please, daddy! please fill me up.. give me your babies..” you begged, weaker hands wrapped around his forearms to keep him in place while your cunt squeezed around him, gushing around his cock just to urge him to not pull out and fill you up instead.

and fuck heeseung was losing it.

your words almost awakening something animalistic in him, a noxious urge to truly fill you up, give you his babies and keep you just for himself only. in that exact moment, all the worries from heeseung’s shoulders evaporated.

your brother no longer mattered, soobin no longer mattered, he himself didn’t matter anymore. he only needed to have you stuck with him for eternity. by his side forever, and you were asking him to do exactly that. asking him so desperately. how could he refuse?

after all, heeseung was a very weak man when it came to you.

“gonna take all of daddy’s babies, pearl?” he chuckled, sweat rolling off of his temples as the coil in his stomach tightened further, the feeling making his voice crack at the end. you nodded frantically under him, nails digging into his skin yet the pain made him hiss in pleasure.

“please give it to me..” you moaned as you felt another release wash over you, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks while heeseung bit your skin at the overwhelming waves of ecstaty that crashed on him. “i’m your good girl, daddy aren’t i? i deserve it.. please.” fuck you sounded so starved. the mere longing in your voice, you calling yourself his good girl made him lose his mind.

and before heeseung could even realise it, he was pumping you full with his warm ropes of cum, both of you groaning in vehement, blinding euphoria while he peppered kisses around your neck and jaw. “of course you’re my good girl, baby fuuuck— you’re my prettiest girl.” his own legs started to shake in pleasure as he rode out his high.

keeping himself so deep inside of you, pushing his load deeper with each slight thrust while he stayed above you. whispering praise after praise for you just to show you how much he truly loves you. heeseung was ready to die for you.

and once his high subsided, he carefully laid next to you, moving you gently to your side and staying rooted deep inside of you before covering both of your bodies with his blanket.

he placed a loving kiss to your temple, arms wrapped protectively around your weak and spent body. “sleep well, pearl.” he spoke, “don’t think about anything, daddy’s here.” you felt the way his hold tightened around you.

you felt too fatigued to reply, instead tilting your head just enough to kiss his hand that was close to your neck, the small gesture carrying your love for the man behind you, making his heart thunder in his chest as you fell asleep, feeling so protected and loved for the first time in so long.

★ SIM JAEYUN ⋆⋆⋆ 심재윤

sim jaeyun was great at many things. acing his physics exams, being the best captain for his university’s football team and being an absolute sweetheart to his teachers and friends.

the only thing that sim jaeyun sometimes lacked in was his ability to give a fuck. especially when it came to his childhood friend, his one sided enemy and shameless copycat.

lee anton, who’s also a close family friend of jake. has been living in his shadow ever since the two could even walk. countless comparisons between the two young boys drew a very fat, drastic line that only distanced them from one another without their parents’ realisation.

sure, anton and jake might’ve sat next to each other at family dinners, passed each other tissues or salt, but the second they were outside of the dining room or the house that pushed them to be in the same vicinity? it was over.

their so called ‘friendship’ was only a show the two of them had unspokenly agreed on in order to not have their families pry into their lives. and for the longest time, it worked.

jake didn’t care. jake couldn’t even bring himself to care about anything anton related while that clearly wasn’t the case for anton.

call it his insecurities or doubts towards everything, he always watched jaeyun from the sidelines with a glint in his eyes that not even he could decipher, whether it was admiration or envy. the only thing anton was sure he felt towards jake, was resentment.

years and years of all of his actions getting nitpicked and compared to jake’s made him only strive to be more. to be better than jake. to reach heights and places the older one could only dream of. but at the same time his dreams only stayed as that, dreams.

because jake— he was untouchable. a dude that had everything and anything really. he was perfect in every aspect. excellent grades, respected by all the sport coaches, admired by every teacher and fawned over by every girl.

and it sickened anton.

because he had multiple things that now he had to improve on, he couldn’t find the one singular thing that jake didn’t have that he could snatch. the one thing he could reach and claim before his enemy could even think about it. he had to figure out a way to make jake jealous, to pay for all of these years of one sided rivalry that only made anton almost lose his sanity.

and so he did.

he found exactly what would set jake off. the only way to turn the tables around and have jake eyeing him from the sidelines.

his crush. anton managed to date you, jake’s obsession and love that no one except his close circle of friends knew about. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you see now as mentioned before, jake didn’t care. he didn’t care what other opinions people had on him, who were getting compared to him or who he was getting compared to himself. he was content and happy in being present in his own bubble, surrounded by his own people he knew he could trust. and well just lived his life.

except he couldn’t do that anymore. not when anton, who was determined to climb up towards jake’s level by also becoming the co-captain of the university’s football team— walked around the halls with his arm wrapped around your waist and lips close to your ear as he whispered a stupid joke that made you laugh. right. in front. of jake.

jake was livid.

for the longest time in his life, he never felt the need to reach his hands out towards something that didn’t come for him first. his eyes never strayed too far away from things that were already meant for him. as difficult as this was to hear for others, jake was simply gifted in many factors in life.

he didn’t try too hard to study and ace all his tests. he was just very intelligent and paid a great amount of attention in his lectures, it wasn’t his fault that he was ridiculously handsome that (as cliche as this sounds) girls fangirled over him when he would pass by the halls. and it really didn’t cost a lot to not be an asshole to others.

so for jake to feel the need to have. the crave to own. the urge to desire something that he wasn’t already divinely gifted? was making him pissed.

he wasn’t even sure himself when his crush on you started, or how it developed to be something that gnawed at his heartstrings everyday. when the smart student of his physics class turned from someone that he only used to admire during his lectures into someone he thought about before falling asleep everynight. what he did know though was the fact that he wanted you.

and was jake someone that didn’t get what he wanted? pfft of course no.

that’s why he had you— anton’s beloved girlfriend who he seemed to forget multiple dates with because he spent too much time ogling jake— clenching down on his leaking length that thrusted past your sopping hole.

“f-fuck! jake— shit! he’s going to hear us!” you mewled his name, body feeling excessively warm, heart thundering against your chest in both anxiety and excitement at the thought of being caught with jake, sweat rolled down both of your bodies while you desperately clawed at jake’s open locker.

jake was currently balls deep inside of you in the football team’s locker room.

where anton was just a hallway away, calling out your name since he had to apologise for missing your fourth date this week.

“scared of letting that asshole hear us? haah— i have no idea why you’re still- fuck.. with him when you have me, angel girl.” he breathed out heavily next to your ear, eyes closing in pleasure as he thrusted into your walls that only seemed to suck him in further and further. he was feeling so ecstatic. so high on your touch and presence that he was holding himself back from filling you up entirely.

you pushed your hips back, actions completely contradicting your own words as you kept tightening around jake with each whiny moan that fell past his bitten lips, “you know i can’t leave him..” you whined, head pressing against the lockers while jake leaned down, hovering his chest above your back.

“why is that, baby? is he remembering all your dates? shit- is he buying you all the jewellery you deserve, angel? i-is he fucking you as good as i am right now?” he bit against the shell of your ear, voice growing desperate, needy, ravenous just to hear you say the words he wants to hear. his satisfaction bubbling in his stomach when you shook your head to everything he groaned to you, denying each and every action that jake would’ve done for you in a heartbeat.

“no! no no he doesn’t— hmm he d-doesn’t- fuck! only you do!” you thrashed under his hold, hips jerking forward from his grip as your abdomen only tightened and tightened further. you felt so good. the stretch of his thick cock splitting you open burned so well. you loved having him so deep inside of you, leaking tip of his dick pressing and kissing all over your sweet spots that had stars spinning around your head.

he laughed breathlessly behind you, reveling in your praises and the way each word was only a further push into his inflated ego, he already knew all of this. he knew how shitty anton was treating you as he was too busy trying to make him jealous. he knew every and each move anton was trying to pull but none of it was going to work.

as he was too busy to study jake’s reactions to even realise that he had his own girlfriend cumming around his enemy’s cock so prettily. falling apart in jake’s embrace as jake only cooed and encouraged you even more. to cum more. to make a mess over his cock. to claim him as yours just as badly as he wanted to claim you as his.

and that’s exactly what you did, with the way his cock kept bullying its way back inside of your walls that continued to milk him for all he’s worth. relishing in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up with warm and thick ropes of his load, you continued to do what he wanted. forming a sheen ring of your combined juices around the base of his cock.

jake kept fucking into you, whispering words after words of praise hotly into your ear while your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. his hand let go of your hip to push in between your sticky inner thighs, fingers working deftly in rubbing circular motions onto your throbbing clit that only pulsed in need under his touch. “telling me to stop.. when she’s sucking me in this well.” he groaned, breaths getting caught in his throat as he felt hot white pleasure spreading all over his body.

“asking me to not fuck you… only thinking about your stupid boyfriend what about her then?” he slapped against your cunt, the wet sounds of his fingers landing on your wet, glistening skin had your mind reeling. “always so selfish not thinking about her.. oh but i always do. i can’t get this pretty cunt out of my head baby.” he shivered behind you, getting lost in the way you kept sucking him in due to his words.

the two of your bodies were moulding into one at this point, your flimsy panties that were pushed to the side with your skirt pushed upwards and jake’s shorts that were pooling by his ankles were the last of your concerns, him fucking you this good and this deep in the public space of your locker’s room was also discarded into the back of your head that was getting gradually fucked into subspace.

your senses heightened, only processing the feeling of jake’s swollen, pulsing tip kissing and pushing against your throbbing cervix that begged to be filled up with his cum over and over again, filled up to the brim as many times as jake could give to you till the two of your bodies gave out.

“you don’t actually want me to s-stop do you, baby?” his voice became shaky, matching your own shaky breathes as he bit against the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders. his hips began to grind against yours, thick swollen balls pressed against the curve of your ass as he barely pulled out an inch or two before stuffing you full of his cock. “t-think about her, princess.” he starts to slap against your pussy again, gentle wet slaps that echo embarrassingly loud in the empty locker’s room.

“telling me to pull out when she’s so greedy f’me?” he moans, chest heaving in deep gulps of breath as he kept holding his orgasm back, reminding himself to not cum before you again. “tell me baby, will he ever breed this pretty little cunt like i’m about to right now?” his hand that was gripping your hip dug his fingers into your plush skin further, leaving indents of his sharp nails behind while you mewled in pained pleasure at the sensation.

you loved it when he marked you, admiring all his marks whenever anton wasn’t home and hiding them away from his eyes, it made you feel excited. a rush of joy sparking in your stomach at the thought of these marks being a secret only you and jake knew about.

“n-no no.. he won’t, jakey he c-can’t!” you hiccuped, his favourite pet name spilling out while you felt your used, swollen pussy aching in pain and need. you felt so wasted, so febrile as your cunt only spasmed around him needily no matter how sore you already were feeling. and jake loved it so much when your body began to respond to him, reacting to every touch and contact made by him and he knew each response like the back of his hand.

he doubted if anton knew how to get your body like this too. flushed and burning in his hold, saturated pussy walls milking and squeezing him, salty droplets of sweat that dribbled down the back of your neck that he had no problem licking up. there was no way anton knew your body like he did.

he knew exactly which buttons to push and which parts to pull, just like how he knew that thrusting his hips so deep to the point where your cervix felt bruised while sneaking one of his hands under your shirt to tug at your hardened nipple and slither his other hand to wrap around your neck, pressing lightly just to make your head spin will have you unraveling again on his throbbing cock.

“there you go princess..” he breathed out, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls calmped down on him. cunt wrapping around his thick cock like a vice as you creamed and made a mess over his dick just how he liked it. “feels good, angel?” he spoke against the skin of your neck, hands now moving to grip onto his own locker door to stabilise himself. you nodded dumbly to his words. eyes closed as electrifying waves of euphoria twitched along your body.

“good baby.. so so good t’me.. you can take more can’t you now? my pretty girl?” he spoke over the approaching yells of anton, your name spilling past his lips as his eyes darted everywhere in the halls to find your figure. though he didn’t know why his feet led him into the hallway of the football team’s locker room, he just decided to not wonder about it too much.

and you might’ve not been able to hear him over the incessant ringing in your ears as you came down from your high that jake fucked you dumb towards but oh he heard it so clearly. the tone of desperation in his voice was like music to jake’s ears. this right here, was his chance. and he was going to take it no matter what happens.

“think you can take a bit more, princess?” he began to move his hips again, nasty, loud and squelching wet noises echoing in the locker’s room as he pulled in and out allowing a glistening, clear mixed with white mixture of both of your arousals to dribble past your inner thighs, he looked down at the sight of his veiny cock glistening in your syrupy juices. the locker room’s lights reflecting off your pretty stuffed cunt and his thick cock that disappeared between your dripping folds. god he could cum right now if he wanted to. but he still held back.

his hand moved onto your lower back, pressing slightly to bend you down more. deepening the arch of your back to make his cock slip past your drizzling folds, each thrust of his against your hips almost splattering your filthy wetness over your ass cheeks and his pelvis. he pulled his hips slightly back before ramming them forward again. the ridiculously wet noise in combination with your sinful moan made his muscles tighten.

his abs flexing as he lifted his shirt, tugging the hem of it between his teeth to allow the gushing combination of your juices to climb up his stomach, revelling in the way your pussy spurted out more cum, more squirt and more of your sweet syrupy nectar combined with his own on his skin. in a way he felt like you were marking him, rightfully staining your own territory and it made him feral.

“baby?” the distant yells of anton became closer and closer. the stupid pet name that he dared to call you made jake scoff. his jealousy, envy and all nastily negative emotions that swirlied within him made him fuck you harder. harsher. his length pulling at your walls, tugging against your sweet spots making you sob and wail his name, jake’s name in the locker’s room.

“who’s fucking you this good, princess?” he growled, drool dribbling past the corner of his lips as sweat rolled down his temples, the salty droplets finding purchase on his glowing skin before falling atop your shining one. “y-you! jakey.. fuck! oh my god- you you you!” you babbled on, if jake’s mouth was covered in drool yours was a mess. you salivated more and more as he bullied his cock inside of you, marking and moulding your insides to only fit his length. only recognise his dick and veins that decorated his cock.

“what’s my name baby? say it. yell it. scream it, princess. let them all hear who you belong to.” his shaking hand turned to land a harsh slap against your right ass cheek, palm burning at the aggressive contact of your soft skin with his making you cry even more under him. face almost pressed against the cool metal of the locker, pearly tears falling freely onto the wet puddle that the two of you had formed on the floor right between your legs.

“jakey!” you gasped loudly, vision blurry with both overstimulated pleasure and your own tears. a hot pounding forming in the back of your head as jake continued to fuck you stupid on his thick inches that dragged along your creaming walls, clenching and clamping down on him in cadence to his thrusts.

“that’s not my name, princess.” he frustratedly groaned, he was almost able to hear anton’s foot steps as they approached the locker’s room where he had you bent over and sucking in his cock like the perfect slut for him that you were. the slut that anton didn’t even know existed but jake had memorised like the back of his hand.

“d-daddy!” you choked out, swallowing back sobs as another orgasm washed over you, cumming so hard around jake’s cock while he continued to fuck into you, each squirt of your sopping pussy only encouraged him to push back into your cunt. “pushing me out now, is she?” he moaned, head thrown back in pleasure at the added pressure of your cunt both pushing him out and sucking him back in. making his head reel in ecstasy.

“say my name, baby. say it. who owns this fucking pussy?” he thrusted back, attempting to piston his mushroom tip against your sweet spots to make you see stars. “you do, daddy! you do!” mewling under him as your own nails began to dig into your skin. jake felt so much euphoria rushing deep in his veins at your words. the sound of your whiny voice mewling and moaning so sweetly for him while your body squirmed under his hold made him so happy. he had you exactly where he wanted.

at the best position for anton to see right when he walks past the door of the locker’s room.

“am i fucking this pretty cunt good, princess? want me to fill your cheating pussy up? knock you up so you have no choice but to stay with me and not your asshole of a boyfriend, hm?” he egged you on, knowing so so well that anton heard everything. the loud screech of his sneakers against floor of the hallway telling him everything he needed to know and god jake was on cloud fucking nine right now.

“gonna let me breed you? make you pregnant with my baby. have you all round and pretty carrying my baby so you’re mine forever.” he leaned down to kiss against your neck, his balls squeezing more tightly as he finally let go. allowing all the cum stored in them to push against your pretty cervix and womb. filling you up with his hot ropes of cum, knocking you up just how he wanted.

jake didn’t even mind the shocked gasp the fell past anton’s lips at the sight, too high. too drunk and wasted on the feeling of the way your pussy was sucking him in as he triggered another orgasm from you because of his own, he hummed at the feeling, soft whimpers falling past his lips while he held you close to him. god he was cumming so so much. filling you up to the brim so well you could feel his cum flooding your insides, filling up your swollen pussy and uterus so well. there was no way it didn’t take.

your drool was dribbling past your chin as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jake grinding up against your ass to ride both of your highs out, his hand pressed against the bloated bulge in your lower stomach while broken sobs and whispers of his name made it to his ears. your body was so weak. so used and so utterly exhausted from the continuous fucking and breeding. “feeling tired, mama?” he whispered lustfully against your ear, peeking one eye towards the locker room’s door just in time to catch the faint sight of anton’s sneakers quickly disappearing behind the walls.

he smiled, satisfaction and happiness bubbling in his insides at the thought of finally having you. with no worries or concerns of anton. he felt so joyous. so relieved that you no longer had to deal with that asshole. he finally had you all to himself.

he kept his softening cock buried inside of you, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer before nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you felt so soft, so nice and warm in his hands when you moved your hand back to tug at his neck, you turned your head back and connected your lips to his.

and just that action alone had jake’s heart bursting with love, he finally had you wrapped around his finger just how you had him for the longest time.

☆ YANG JUNGWON ⟡ 양정원

for yang jungwon, life had always been on easy mode. as if playing an easier, more smoother game of life with less bumps and obstacles in his path. everything almost moulded to his liking and every unfavourable decision changed for the sweethearted guy.

his life was nothing short than average— he was a remarkably good student, great president of his class. trusted tremendously by the teachers, very dearly loved by all animals— well okay maybe his life wasn’t that average.

but he just liked to believe that it was fate, or luck, one of those two didn’t matter which one but he did know that there was some other higher power that played an important role in all of his life events. as surely there was a reasoning behind every single thing that happens in his world.. or maybe not somethings are just meant to be the way the are.

much like his confusing rivalry with his number one public enemy, the guy that he would actually have no problem with killing if he could, haruto.

the hatred, dislike and absolute loath the two shared against each other was a mystery to not only the people surrounding them, but to their own selves as well. jungwon couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his relationship with haruto had began to bend incorrectly but as far as he remembers— it’s always been like that.

the two couldn’t stand each other to stay in the same room. throwing nasty glares at one another before turning their heads to spew hateful words. “this fucking asshole” “this stupid bastard” and their friends were used to it. no matter how many times they attempted to understand, to really know the reason as to just why there was so much ill dislike between them— they just couldn’t reach anything.

“because he’s a cocky son of a bi—“ “yeah okay i think that’s enough.” jungwon got cut off by his younger friend ni-ki when asked about his unexpected distaste towards haruto, no one bothered to figure out the weird and unexplained hostility between the two boys after that.

and for the longest time, with no interaction points between the two. everything seemed to be fine. both of their hearts calming down from beating so much hatred, mouths empty from nasty words and a calm and collected peace of mind for all parties.

but that didn’t last that long.

you see, jungwon wasn’t the best when it came to maintaining relationships— not in a cheating or unloyal kind of way. he just didn’t feel like he was reciprocating the same amount of effort and dedication he was receiving in a relationship, hence most of the ones he’s went through had reached their demise before they were able to fully bloom.

blame it on his busy schedule and duty filled routines, he just sometimes couldn’t push an entire romantic relationship to handle and be apart of into his life at certain periods.

something that haruto was clearly able to do. and god he did not let anyone hear the end of it, especially jungwon.

the problem wasn’t the fact that jungwon couldn’t keep a relationship anymore. jungwon had always wanted to be in one, to be loved and appreciated and doted on by someone he wholeheartedly trusted and saw a future with. he wasn’t afraid to love either. it was just the time factor that he wasn’t sure about giving. not the satisfactory amount for a lover atleast.

but for haruto to rub all of this into his face when he sat at a lunch table with his arm slinged around your hips as you gazed at him with hearts in your eyes? was a bit too much.

“that’s why you can’t keep a fucking relationship!” this sentence coming from haruto during another argument a mere two days later after seeing you two in the cafeteria? oh jungwon was fuming.

this was it. if haruto was so concerned about jungwon being unable to keep a relationship, why not just snatch away his?

which explains how you currently landed in this situation, laying sideways on his bed. one of his hands gently held your leg, keeping an open entrance for him to plunge his cock back inside of your wetness. he felt so ecstatic. so deep as he shoved his thick inches inside of your gummy walls. length exploring and massaging your insides so wonderfully you couldn’t help but moan so prettily for him, small praises tumbling past your lips. you were so dizzy in pleasure.

“feels good, precious?” he would mumble behind you, his own eyelids shut tightly at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in greedily. a ravenous grip around the base of his cock that had him seeing stars. “s’good won.. f-fuck.. t’ feels amazing..” you huffed, pearly droplets of sweat shimmering prettily over your body as he rolled his hips up against your ass.

his thrusts were short, not too much power behind him as he was so drunk off of your pussy already. they were just right. pushing and kneading against your sweet spots so deliciously and making you bite you lower lip harsh enough to draw a metallic taste into your mouth. he was stuffing you so well. fucking you so good you couldn’t even think about anything else.

especially not the date with haruto you were supposed to be on like right now.

and jungwon knew about it. he knew so well exactly what haruto was planning to do on this date, which flowers he was buying and to which restaurant he wanted to take you to make up for the fact that he was an actual asshole just like jungwon had always known.

because what sane man would be mean to you? no matter how many times you tried to hide it from everyone’s eyes, jungwon knows that you’re not happy in your relationship with haruto. hell— he even got into a relationship to make him jealous in the first place. it wasn’t out of love or whatever lie he was feeding you.

no one except jungwon knew about the disgusting and degrading comments and names haruto would make about you. about his horrible manners and actions that would only make you question the whole purpose of this relationship, because love— what was known as the basis for every relationship, was clearly missing in this one.

but you were too attached to realise that, too used to being around haruto to consider anyone else. so what if he was rude to you? atleast he was your boyfriend. or well.. that was until jungwon walked into the picture, more like waltzed into your life.

“you feel so good around me, doll. milking my cock with this pretty cunt— fuuuck you’re so good to me.” he praised you on and on. mouth and tongue never getting tired from showering you with compliments, something drastically different from you were used to and it felt so nice. different, but a welcomed different.

you shyed away adorably from him, whimpering in his hold as tears sprung into your eyes from both the sensitivity of your cunt and your heart, he felt the way your walls tightened around him at his words. the feeling paired with your body turning warmer and your cute mewls made him coo in your ear. how cute can someone be?

he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that haruto had actually managed to score you. to date you out of all people. such a sweet souled woman that only deserved praise, love and affection. all things that jungwon couldn’t help but shower you with as you laid under him, taking his cock so well like a good girl. seriously how could haruto not treat you right?

though questioning haruto did become something jungwon gave up on ages ago. the only point he took away from that was if haruto is wrong about something, then there’s a very high chance that jungwon’s right.

and haruto was so so wrong about degrading you. treating you so poorly when all you needed were a few soft whispers of how well you were doing, what a pretty girl you were as you took his big cock in so sweetly to get you to glow more. to flourish right before his eyes when you bucked your hips back against his. eyes shutting in ecstasy while butterflies fluttered in your stomach. feeling so loved and appreciated in the arms of a man you knew would never hurt you.

jungwon was enamoured by you. drowning completely in adoration and love for you. you were so warm in his embrace, body so pliant and responsive to his every move. almost like you were made for his touch. made to allow his fingertips to burn along your skin as they trailed from your waist down to your leg.

so needy, so so desperate to feel him all over you. and he felt the same way. the urge to press his skin against yours, cover your body with his and mould both of them into one you couldn’t tell apart where he was ending and where you were starting, everything felt so hot. so warm so electrictifying as he fucked you open on his cock in a way you’ve never felt before.

“p-please.. leave him for me bunny..” he stuttered out, throat closing up when your walls clamped down on him at the sound of his voice so distant, an entire pitch higher and so debauched in you. you shook your head mindlessly at his words, unable to agree to them, haruto still held a small precious spot in your heart. you were still attached.

“you know he doesn’t deserve you, precious..” his chest heaved in heavy gulps of air, his own waterline aligning with tears as he desperately clawed at your body as if he was almost panicked at the thought of you not leaving. begging you to leave his own enemy and become his. he wanted you so bad. to call you his so bad. to claim you, to please you and to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

and he could tell you wanted him just as badly. if your body language was anything to go by, he would think you were in love with him already. you were so good to him. felt so incredible around him he couldn’t help but feel his body floating in utter euphoria, pure ecstasy with you.

“i c-can’t.. i can’t do that won.. s’too mean..” you hiccuped, tears rushing down your pretty face making him coo, he slithered his other hand down your waist, middle and ring finger teasing your throbbing clit that pulsed with need. you were so close to the edge of your climax your eyes rolled back when he began to rub slow circles on your aching bud. almost matching them along with the rolls of his hips against yours.

he was fucking you so well. so good. teetering on the edge of complete pleasure as his heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your ass with every motion. the sound so lewd and sinful it made your head spin with each smack! smack! everything felt too good. too much.

“don’t you think him not fucking this pretty cunt good is too mean, bun?” he laughed breathlessly, eyelids fluttering shut when his raging hot tip that leaked tremendous amounts of pre nudged against your cervix, you sobbed out incoherent words. mind turning into a puddle of mush in your skull as you were unable to process or think about anything other than jungwon’s dick fucking you open like this.

he nudged his nose against your ear, hand and hips picking up in speed to ram inside of your snug cunt that only seemed to suck him in further. sticky, glistening ropes of arousal connected his hips and pelvis to your ass cheeks that were covered in a white mess. you had lost count about the amount of times you’ve creamed on him now, and jungwon didn’t mind at all.

with your hot breaths fanning against one another, warm, sweaty bodies moving in cadence and your insides feeling so sensitive and sore, neither of you were able to pick up the echoing sound of your phone ringing on the bedside table. the call coming from none other than haruto.

“come to me pretty bunny.. leave him and- haah— shit.. come to me.” he moaned by your ear, finger incessant in rubbing against your clit and to coax out another orgasm out of you and another and another.

you were feeling so delirious at this point. having jungwon— a guy that your heart soared for fucking you and dragging out so many highs out of you while begging you to leave your asshole of a boyfriend was so.. intense. it was so much. way too much for your brain to comprehend.

“you know i-i can treat you better right?… so much better than him..” he whined, so lost on you, so gone and drunk on the flavour of you atop his senses. overtaking his every thought, his every idea, his entire brain and whole heart completely. and he loved it. as if hexed by a spell you casted upon him, he relished in it.

and you revelled in his attention, his love that he continued to rain on you, possessed by his presence and enchanted entirely. as if stuck under his hypnosis, the movements of his body against yours, his whispers of sweet words, sweet promises and dirty nasty things he would do to you if you were his had you hexed so so deep into his own spell. tangled in a passion dedicated to him and formed by him only.

you nodded in a lucid manner to his words, eyes droopy as they opened and closed with your vision blurry. you could barely pick up the way you were unraveling around his length again. gummy walls clamping down around the base of his cock for the nth time in the past few hours as you came so hard.

“just like that bun… cumming around my cock so good doll.. needy cunt sucking me in so so well.” he spoke deliriously, his own consciousness slipping away before he finally heard your ringtone. the thought of it being haruto made his inside twinge in excitement. his hand moved imperceptibly, wrapping his fingers around the device while you were still lost in your stupor of pleasure.

he glanced at the small screen and couldn’t help the wide cheshire grin that spread across his features at the sight of ‘haruto ♡’ this was it.

he quickly answered the call, lowering the volume to not have you hear his worries and apologies that instantly began to spill out the speaker. you were so caught up in your own high, eyes closed as jungwon kept rocking his hips against yours making you get stuck on subspace as he remained restless. not taking a second to stop and trapping you in a constant state of ecstasy. and you were loving every second of it.

“feeling good, baby bunny?” he asked loudly, unnoticeably switching the phone to his other hand that kept holding your leg up and lowering the speaker right against your cunt. making the wet smacking sounds, the slaps of his heavy balls against your ass echo in haruto’s ears as he felt his heart drop.

that voice. was too familiar for his liking.

“s’good won.. shit— feels s’good..” you babbled on, soft hands gripping roughly at his ruined bedsheets as there was almost a puddle forming between the two of your bodies, more cum more wetness more arousal seeping out of your fucked hole when jungwon would pull slightly out. a mere inch that will make his cum leak outside of your gummy walls before squeezing himself back in and god the sound was so filthy. so nasty as it echoed for all three of you.

“who’s making you feel this good, hm? tell me who’s filling up this pretty little greedy cunt, bun?” he bit against your ear, licking the shell of it sensually as the need and urge to devour you was just worsening with every second. he needed to feel you everywhere, taste you everywhere and touch you everywhere.

“you are— fuck! you’re making me feel so good.” you mewled under his hold. writhing in complete pleasure and ecstasy as he kept pushing his cock between your puffy and glistening folds. “what’s my name, my pretty bunny?” he whispered lewdly into your ear, his mere voice almost acting like an aphrodisiac for you. making you more needier and wetter for him.

“daddy! ngh daddy you feel s’good!” gasping his favourite name for him so loudly, unaware of the fact that haruto choked on his own spit at how slutty you sounded. voice almost an entire pitch higher and voracious. he felt his own pants tightening at the filthy sounds filling his ears. you never sounded like this with him hell— your room never sounded like this when you were with him.

“good girl.. such a good obedient little bunny for me, screaming her daddy’s name like the good bunny she is..” he kissed along your skin lovingly, dropping the phone onto the bed without a care if haruto had hung up or not, you were right in front of him and he wasn’t able to not give you his full attention. not when you sounded so slutty and needy for him.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, relishing in the way your cunt tightened and tightened around his cock as another orgasm washed over you, you sobbed his name, pretty little tears falling along his stained bedsheets as he switched the position.

he gently laid down your aching leg, the soreness of your body making you wince with the combined pleasure before he situated himself onto his knees. holding your thighs open just enough to see your ruined gaping hole leaking in front of him. the sight making his pulsating cock twitch before he pushed it back inside of you.

the two of you groaned in pleasure, both of you way past being gone. you were completely cock drunk while he was entirely pussy drunk. his mind spun with the way you still tried to suck him deeper, tight mushy walls milking his length and greedily clamping down on him. “f-fuck i’m s’close bun.. gonna let me cum inside of your slutty pussy, hm?” he breathed out. sweat rolling from his temples down his chest and even reaching his glistening, muscular thighs.

you buried your head against the pillow, mind completely high and lost on the way jungwon kept fucking you into subspace. nodding against the wet pillowcases as jungwon was almost about to push past your cervix. “that’s my girl.. my pretty little bunny letting me breed her pussy like this.” he groaned, his abdomen tightening further before he finally released the cum stored in his heavy balls that slapped noisily onto your inner thighs.

hot, long spurts of his cum webbed along your insides, filling you up to the brim and pressing right against your cervix. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt your lower stomach almost bloating with his cum. he was releasing so so much. warm cum making your insides turn hotter as he kept fucking it back inside of you.

his groans and moans, whispers of your name and how good you felt barely reached your ringing ears, hell he couldn’t even hear his own words himself. his ears popping as he finally released the final spurts of his unusually prolonged and intense release before he dropped on top of you. caging your body beneath his.

he cracked one eye open, moving to look at the phone screen that just now closed as haruto finally hung up from the call. he noticed the way you were trying to catch your breath, slipping in and out of consciousness and took this as an opportunity to open your phone.

memorising your password as haruto’s stupid birthday, he quickly went through your home screen to find your messages. where he could already spot multiple notifications from his enemy.

haruto ♡: you fucking bitch

haruto ♡: how dare you fuck my own enemy out of everyone else

haruto ♡: i should’ve never trusted a whore like you

jungwon felt his eye twitching at the way he was texting you. anger rising up like along with the fatigue in his body before he tapped onto your keyboard

my love ♥︎: never text this number again you stupid asshole.

read

haruto ♡ is typing…

and before he could text another nasty message, he blocked his number for good.

now discarding your phone back onto the bedside table, he turned towards you littering your shoulders and exposed skin with affectionate kisses before whispering how much he loved you into your ears.

and at the end of the day, jungwon still took the one thing haruto kept teasing him for and shoving in his face. his beloved girlfriend.

you've been living in your apartment for a year now, and it finally feels like yours. it wasn’t much when you first moved in—just a small, empty space with plain white walls and a few pieces of basic furniture that came with the lease. but over time, you’ve slowly transformed it into something that feels warm and welcoming.

you’ve spent countless hours finding the perfect decorations for it. you’ve put up pictures on the once bare walls, just to take them down again and put some new ones up. you wanted everything to be perfect. you wanted it to feel like you.

most days, it’s just you here, alone with your thoughts and your textbooks. you’re deep into your college studies majority of the time. but, you’ve made your apartment perfect for studying. it’s quiet, organized and everything has its own place of where it belongs. 

you like that it's quiet here. after a long day on campus, your apartment is your retreat, your safe space. the outside world can be overwhelming, but here, everything is just how you want it. there’s a kind of peace that comes with knowing you have a place that’s all your own, where you can shut the door and leave everything else behind.

today is one of those rare days when you don’t have any classes, so you’ve planned to spend the entire day catching up on your studies. you’ve got your textbooks laid out on the coffee table, your laptop open with a dozen tabs ready to go, and a playlist of soft music playing in the background to keep you focused.

but as you’re about to dive into your notes, you hear some noises in the hallway. at first, it’s just a faint rustling, but then it gets louder, like someone’s moving furniture or carrying something heavy. you pause, your pen hovering over your notebook, and listen. the sounds continue, voices joining in, and for a moment, you wonder what’s going on. then it hits you—mrs. blue, the sweet old lady who used to live next door, moved out last week. someone must be moving in now.

curiosity gets the better of you, so you quietly get up and tiptoe to the front door. you peek through the peephole, trying not to make a sound. through the tiny lens, you see a boy around your age standing in the hallway, a cardboard box balanced easily in one hand. even through the peephole, it’s clear that he’s good-looking and he knows it. 

he’s laughing at something one of the other guys says, his smile wide and easy, and you can’t help but notice the way his confidence just radiates off him. there are a couple of other boys with him, also carrying boxes into the apartment next door, and they’re all chatting and joking like they’ve known each other forever. you wonder which one of them, or how many of them are moving in. 

you watch for a moment longer, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite name. this new neighbor is nothing like mrs. blue, that’s for sure.

but for now, you go back to your studying, putting in your headphones this time and ignoring the slight bumps you hear from the furniture being moved around next door. 

it isn’t until later when you’re making dinner that you realize you’re out of sauce for your pasta. you check all your cupboards for anything you can use, but turn out empty handed. 

you sigh, knowing that you’ll have to run to the store to get some more sauce for your dinner. you wanted to have one day where you could just stay in your apartment all day and relax. 

but, you grab your purse and decide to leave for the store, keeping on your pink pajama shorts and top since you think that you’ll only be running in and out of the store in a short amount of time. 

you’re halfway into the hallway when the door to the apartment next to yours swings open and you almost walk straight into someone. you gasp, stumbling back a step as your eyes dart up to see who it is. 

“i’m so, so sorry! are you okay?” the words tumble out of your mouth in a rush as you steady yourself, your heart still racing from the near collision.

the man in front of you looks down at you, and you realize it was the man from earlier you saw through your peephole. you’re too flustered to say anything else. he’s taller than you though and his tousled brown hair is pushed back off of his forehead. a slow, easy grin makes his way onto his face. 

he glances down, taking in your outfit and chuckles softly. the sound makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you suddenly wish you’d at least thrown on a hoodie before stepping out. 

“it’s alright,” he says, his voice smooth and warm, like he’s genuinely amused by the situation. “i’m jake, by the way. i just moved in.” he extends his hand to you, and it takes a second for you to register what’s happening.

“i’m y/n,” you manage to mumble as you shake his hand, your voice coming out more timidly than you’d like. internally, you’re cursing yourself for being so shy, especially in front of someone who seems so effortlessly confident. his hand is warm, his grip firm, and you can’t help but feel a little more flustered as you pull your hand back.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” jake says, still smiling that smile that makes it hard to think straight. “i’ll see you around, then.” with that, he turns and starts walking down the hall, catching up with a couple of guys who are waiting for him. as they pass by, both of them wave at you, and you manage a small wave back before they disappear down the apartment building steps.

once they’re gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your cheeks still warm with embarrassment. you’re standing in the hallway in your pink pajamas and just almost ran into your ridiculously hot next door neighbour. 

you cringe at yourself and start to leave the building as well, making your way to the store. you can’t stop thinking about jake the whole way there. you’re both curious and intimidated by him. he’s attractive, confident and seems so carefree. everything that you’re not. 

you wonder what its going to be like living next door to someone like him.

it’s been two weeks since jake moved in, and every weekend, like clockwork, he throws a party. it’s become a routine you dread. the moment friday evening rolls around, you brace yourself for the noise, the pounding music, the bursts of laughter that seep through the thin walls. no matter what you do, you can’t escape it. the bass thuds through your apartment, vibrating through your bed frame, making it impossible to focus on anything, let alone study.

you’ve tried everything to block it out. noise-canceling headphones, calming playlists, even white noise—nothing works. it’s as if the walls are paper-thin, every beat of the music and every shout from the party-goers seeping into your space, filling it with chaos.

one afternoon, you’re coming home exhausted from college and you run into your neighbour maia, who lives on the opposite side of jake’s apartment. she’s always been friendly and outgoing– something you are jealous of her about. you wondered if the noise from jake’s parties had only been bothering you and not the rest of the building. 

“hey maia,” you start, trying to sound casual as the pretty girl opens her mailbox. 

“hi y/n!” she gleams at you, so perfectly. “what’s up?” 

“um, i was just wondering if you’ve heard the neighbours' parties? does the noise ever bother you? they’re just so loud, and i can’t seem to study at all when they’re going on.” 

maia looks at you, and then she laughs—a light, carefree sound that makes you feel a little foolish for even bringing it up. “oh, no, they don’t bother me at all! i actually join them most of the time,” she says, smiling brightly. “you should come one day, y/n. they’re so fun! you’re always in your apartment or at school studying, you need to let loose a little.”

her words make you smile, but it’s an awkward, strained smile. “yeah, maybe,” you say, but deep down, you know you’ll never go. the thought of being surrounded by all those people, of trying to navigate the noise and the chaos, makes you feel anxious.

you wave goodbye to maia and head to your own apartment, feeling frustrated that you are the only one seemingly annoyed by jake’s parties. i mean, it doesn’t even seem like jake has gotten a noise complaint from the manager of the building. you don’t know what to do. 

when saturday night rolls around again, you plan on going to bed early since you have to wake up early to cram for an important exam on monday morning. but sure enough, when the sky is total darkness, you start to hear the familiar sounds of jake’s party coming to life again next door. the music starts, a low thump that grows louder, then the laughter, the clinking of glasses and the sound of dancing feet. 

you lay down in your bed, pressing your pillow over your ears, but even that doesn’t help. you’re wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, listening to it all. 

the frustration builds inside you, and you wonder how long this will go on. how many more sleepless nights you’ll have to endure, how many times you’ll have to pretend to maia that you might actually show up at one of these parties. you can’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and irritation toward jake. he’s attractive, confident, and clearly the life of the party—everything you’re not. and now, as you lay there, unable to sleep, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be more like him, to not care so much about… everything. 

after what feels like an eternity of tossing, turning, and suffering through the relentless noise, the party finally seems to quiet down. the music fades, the laughter dies out, and suddenly, it’s blissfully silent. you figure jake must have kicked everyone out and gone to bed, and a relieved smile spreads across your face as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, ready to finally get some sleep. but just as your eyes start to close, you hear it—a soft, feminine giggle coming from the other side of the wall. your eyes shoot open, heart sinking as you realize that jake’s bedroom is right beside yours, and every sound from his room travels straight to your ears.

it takes a second for you to realize what the sound you’re hearing exactly is. but when you realize, a wave of embarrassment flushes over you. you can hear him having sex. 

your heart stands to pound as you recognize jake’s voice, groaning and muttering dirty phrases. you feel a twinge of guilt as you realize you start focusing solely on jake’s voice, but the curiosity and growing arousal you’re feeling is too strong to ignore. you wanted to know what a confident, good looking guy like jake sounded like in bed. 

the woman he’s with is vocal, ehr moans and gasps filling the silence between jake’s grunts. you wonder if he’s fingering her or if he has his mouth wrapped around her core. your imagination is running wild as you try too imagine the scene that is unfolding right on the other side of this wall. 

as you listen, your breathing quickens, and you find yourself reaching down to touch your breast, your finger dragging along your nipple over top of your shirt. it’s been a while since you’ve been touched— the last time was in your last year of high school. when college started you became too focused on your studies and your shyness only grew more and more the more you studied alone. 

bumping into jake in the hall a few weeks ago has been the only contact you’ve had with a man since you started college two years ago. you tried not to think about how long it’s been. 

you begin to pluck your puckered and sensitive nipples. it’s even been awhile since you’ve had the chance to touch yourself– to make yourself feel good. 

the woman’s moans become more urgent and muffled, and then you hear jake’s voice so clearly filled with desire, “suck it baby. take it all in your mouth.” 

you bite your lip, imagining jake saying those words to you. your hand moves lower, sliding beneath the elastic waistband of your pajama bottoms. your fingers find your clit, and you begin to rub slow, firm circles as you listen to the sounds of the blowjob taking place next door. 

“fuck, that’s it.” jake groans, and you can faintly hear the wet sounds of the woman obeying his command. “you love sucking my cock, don’t you? taking it deep down your throat.” 

your fingers move faster as you picture jake's thick, hardened cock sliding in and out of the woman's mouth. you imagine his hands tangling in her hair, guiding her movements as she sucks him eagerly. your other hand moves to pinch your nipple, rolling it between your fingers as you continue to rub your clit. you wish he could be doing this to you. 

the sounds of the blowjob continue, and you can't help but wonder if the woman is looking up at jake with lust-filled eyes, her face flushed and lips wrapped around his shaft. you want to be her, to feel jake's cock filling your mouth, tasting him on your tongue.

"i'm gonna cum," jake warns, his voice tight with anticipation. "fuck, keep sucking. swallow it all."

your breathing is ragged now, your body tensing as you approach your own climax. you can almost feel jake's cock throbbing in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat as the woman next door obediently swallows his load.

"fuck, yeah," jake groans, and you hear the satisfied whimpers of the woman. "that was fucking amazing, baby."

you bite your lip, your fingers working furiously over your sensitive clit as you listen to their post-orgasmic bliss. you're so close to your own release, your body aching for it.

"now, I want to feel that tight pussy around my cock," jake says, his voice laced with desire again. "ride me, baby. let me watch that perfect ass bounce on my dick."

you imagine jake lying on his bed, his cock hard and ready as the woman straddles him. you try to picture yourself doing it to him, both of your thighs wrapped around his hips as you lower yourself onto his cock– but you know you’d be too shy for it. you know jake wouldn’t think you’re sexy like the woman he’s fucking right now is. 

the woman gasps as she takes him inside her, and you can almost hear the wet sounds of their bodies joining. you can almost feel the tightness of your own pussy as you imagine jake's thick cock stretching her, filling her up.

"oh god, you feel so good," the woman moans, riding jake's cock. "i want to feel you so deep inside me."

you close your eyes, your body rocking gently as you bring yourself closer to climax. your breath comes in short gasps, and your fingers move faster, needing that release.

jake's hands grip the woman's hips, guiding her movements as she rides him. "that's it, baby," he grunts. "ride my cock. show me how much you want it.” 

you can hear the slap of their bodies meeting, the woman's moans growing louder as she nears her climax. you want to be in her place, feeling jake's powerful thrusts deep within you, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"hh, I'm close," the woman whimpers. "i'm gonna cum, jake. fuck, I'm gonna cum so hard on your cock."

"cum for me, baby," Jake encourages, his voice hoarse with his own rising desire. "let me feel that tight pussy clench around my dick."

you can't hold back any longer. as the woman cries out in ecstasy, your own orgasm washes over you. your body shakes with the intensity of it, your fingers never slowing as you ride out the waves of pleasure. you bite your lip to muffle your moans, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but the sensation is too overwhelming.

in the aftermath of your orgasm, you lay panting, your body sated and relaxed. you hear jake and the woman next door in a similar state, their breathing heavy and satisfied. you feel a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping, but your mind is still too hazy from the strong orgasm you just gave yourself. 

soon, exhaustion finally wins your body over. you can't keep your eyes open any longer, and as you drift off to sleep, your mind wanders one last time to thoughts of jake. you wonder about the type of women he’s into– what type of sex he’s into. you feel like you have an idea of what he likes. 

with those thoughts lingering in your mind, you let the weight of sleep pull you under, hoping for a quieter night tomorrow after studying all day.

when you wake up, you decide that you need to go out and grab a coffee before diving into your studying. as you step out of your apartment and into the hallway, the memory of what happened last night lingers in your mind. 

just as you’re about to turn and head down the stairs, you see a woman emerging from jake’s apartment. she’s hugging him goodbye, and your breath catches in your throat. he’s shirtless, his toned body on full display, and he looks undeniably hot. the girl he’s with is stunning—she has long, glossy black hair cascading down her back, sharp, perfectly defined features, and so confident. she’s the epitome of the type of girl you imagine jake would find irresistible—so different from you in every way.

“bye jake, see you around,” she says, her voice smooth and warm as she wraps him in a final hug.

“bye, yasmin.” jake replies, his gaze lingering on her as she turns and walks away.

jake turns and starts to head back into his apartment, but he notices you standing there (not in your pink pajamas), and a smile grows on his face, “oh, hey y/n!” 

“hi,” you manage to squeak out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you give a meek response. you quickly turn and head down the stairs, cursing yourself for being so awkward. you hear jake’s soft chuckle behind you, followed by the sound of his door closing. with every step you take, you wish you could be more like the kind of girls jake likes—confident, attractive, and effortlessly cool. the thought weighs heavily on you as you practically run down the stairs, eager to escape the awkward encounter.

the next weekend, the familiar sounds of jake’s party start filtering through your walls again. today had been especially rough at school, and you’re on edge, feeling the frustration build up inside you. all you wanted was a good night's sleep. 

unable to take it any longer, you grab your resolve and walk over to jake’s apartment door, your pink pajama set feeling like the least of your worries.

you knock firmly, not caring that you’re in your sleepwear with your hair braided messily. when jake opens the door, he’s holding a red solo cup, and you can’t help but notice how his black button-down shirt is partially open, revealing his tan, muscular chest.

“hey, yn,” he greets, his voice slightly slurred but still cheerful. “sorry, am i being too loud?”

he takes in your disheveled appearance—sleepy eyes, braided hair, and an annoyed frown—and chuckles softly. you’re too irritated to care about his easy going demeanor.

“yes, actually,” you say sharply. “you keep me up with your loudness every weekend. i have school work and studying to do, you know.”

jake’s smile fades a bit as he registers your frustration. despite being drunk, he seems to sense your genuine annoyance. “i’m so sorry,” he says, his voice more earnest now. “i’ll keep it down. i know a pretty girl like you who needs her beauty sleep.”

you blink, momentarily taken aback by his comment, and manage a quiet, “uh, ok, thanks.”

he gives you a reassuring nod. “have a good night,” he says before closing the door.

you turn and walk back to your apartment in a daze, trying to process what just happened. his words replay in your mind as you notice the noise level dropping. finally, you manage to settle into your bed, exhausted but relieved, and drift off to sleep, feeling a mix of confusion and unexpected relief.

after your conversation with jake, the music in his apartment hasn’t been as loud. though the sounds of laughter and chatter still seep through the walls, the thumping bass is more bearable now. at least he’s trying to make it better for you. 

you head down to the mailboxes on the first floor, wanting to see if your best friend has sent you any more postcards from her vacation. 

as you’re sifting through the usual bills and flyers, you hear footsteps approaching. when you look up, it’s jake. he has his mailbox key swinging around his index finger as he walks up beside you, unlocking his own mailbox. 

“hey, yn,” he greets you, his voice confident and casual.

“hi,” you mumble, your eyes glued to the pile of mail in your hands. you can feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

you fumble with your letters, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake slightly. but of course, he does, and you catch the slight curve of his lips as he finds your shyness amusing.

“how’s school going?” 

“good,” you reply quickly, still avoiding his eyes. you shuffle your feet, desperate to end the encounter before you embarrass yourself any further.

“well, see you around,” jake says, his tone light and friendly.

you manage a quick nod before you scurry off, your heart pounding in your chest. as soon as you’re back in your apartment, you let out a groan. embarrassed, yet again, in front of jake.

a few days later, you’re returning home after a long day of classes when you spot maia and jake outside of his apartment. he’s leaning against the open door frame as he talks to your neighbour. 

hey, yn!” maia calls out cheerfully. “we were just talking about you!”

you approach them hesitantly, feeling a bit out of place. “oh, really?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

“yeah!” maia says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “jake’s throwing another party tomorrow night. you should totally come!”

you start to shake your head, the word “no” already forming on your lips, but then jake jumps in, his voice a mix of earnestness and charm. “please come, yn. i want to hang out with my neighbour!”

maia nods enthusiastically, both of them looking at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

you sigh, feeling cornered. “okay, fine, i’ll come,” you agree, though a part of you can’t believe you just said that.

“yes!” maia cheers, and jake flashes you a triumphant grin.

as you walk back to your apartment, you can’t help but sigh again, wondering what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing down the dress for what feels like the thousandth time. it’s a simple dress, nothing too flashy, but you still feel self conscious. you’re not even sure why you put it on– maybe to prove something to yourself, maybe because deep down, you’re tired of feeling like the odd one out. or maybe it's because of jake. 

no, it’s definitely because of jake. 

when you hear the unfortunately familiar thump of music vibrating through the walls again, you figure its time to go over to the party. 

with a deep breath, you knock on the door. 

it only takes a moment before the door swings open and jake stands there, with that same confident smirk he always seems to have. his eyes widen slightly as they take in your dress, the curve of your waist, the way it hugs your figure. it’s subtle, but you notice, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“what?” you ask him, trying to sound annoyed. 

“nothing,” jake says, his smirk widening. “just surprised you’re not in your pink pajamas again.”

you can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “hey!”

“i’m kidding,” he chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “though you do look cute in them.”

his words catch you off guard, and you feel a mix of embarrassment and something else. you just smile, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

before you can say anything else, you hear maia’s voice calling your name from inside. “yn! come sit with us!”

you glance past jake and see maia waving you over, surrounded by a small group of people on the couch. jake steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. with a nervous smile, you step inside, immediately hit by the scent of cologne and weed, the sounds of laughter and music filling the room.

maia pats the spot next to her on the couch, and you gratefully sink into the seat, trying to push down the anxiety bubbling in your chest. jake follows, taking a chair directly across from you, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary. you can feel his gaze, the weight of it making you squirm slightly in your seat.

everyone around you is seemingly at ease except for you. they are all drinking and laughing, having fun. but all you can focus on is jake and the way his eyes never seem to leave you. it sends a thrill down you to know that he’s actually noticing you. but you try to ignore it, pushing down the anxiety and focus on anything but the boy sitting across from you. 

“hey! let’s play truth or dare!” maia’s laughter fills your ears at her suggestion. a few people immediately cheer in agreement. 

you feel a knot tighten in your stomach at the suggestion. you’ve never played it before, but you’ve heard it’s a thing at parties. you’ve never even really been to a party before. 

maia nudges you with her elbow, “come on, y/n!” she already senses your hesitation, “it’ll be fun!” 

"yeah, join us," jake’s voice adds from across the room, and your eyes dart to him. he’s watching you, his gaze steady and, for some reason, that only makes you more nervous. he looks so confident, like he belongs in this kind of setting, while you feel like an outsider.

you nod slowly, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice trembling. a few people shift around, creating a loose circle, and you find yourself sitting between maia and a guy you vaguely recognize from the hallway when jake was moving in. 

the game starts and you hope no one picks you since they aren’t familiar with you. 

you learn that the boy next to you is named jay and he’s pretty carefree and outgoing like the rest of them. when it’s his turn to choose, he goes with dark, which makes him take a shot of something suspiciously strong. he does it without flinching and the rest of the group cheers him on. 

maia gets dared to kiss the girl beside her. the reaction from the rest of the group as they watched them kiss had even you laughing. 

then it’s maia’s turn to ask, and she eyes jake with a playful smirk, “jake, truth or dare.” 

“truth,” jake replies, leaning back in his chair, completely at ease.

without hesitation she asks, “what’s your favourite place to have sex?” 

jake smirks, his eyes sweeping over the group before they land on you, “the shower.” his voice comes out smooth. 

maia scoffs, “really? the shower?” 

“and what’s wrong with the shower?” jake’s eyes are interrogating her from across the coffee table. 

“well it’s small, uncomfortable, slippery– you just can’t get a proper position.” 

jake leans back in his seat, his eyes as amused as the smirk on his lips is. “but it’s hot, and intimate, and feeling the water against my skin as we fuck turns me on more.” 

there’s a few chuckles around the small group at his answer, but maia still only rolls her eyes at jake, not agreeing with his answer at all. she turns to face you. 

“y/n do you think the shower is a good place to have sex in? i mean is it good enough to be your favourite?” 

you feel heat rush straight to your cheeks as she calls you. the unfamiliar faces in the group all turn to look at you, including jake. 

you gulp before answering her, “i mean, i’ve never had sex in the shower before, but i guess it sounds tempting.” 

at your answer, jake smirks and leans in closer, the space between you shrinking as he leans over the coffee table, “temping enough to try?” he asks you, teasingly. there’s a challenge in his tone and it sends your mind racing, thinking of the night you heard him with your shared bedroom wall, thinking of what he’d look like with water droplets trailing down his skin. 

“okay okay! someone else go– alice how about you? truth or dare?” maia cuts off the intense eye contact between you and jake, probably noticing how you were suddenly struggling to breathe. 

jake leans back when alice answers with dare, a playful glint is still in his eyes. you realize that maybe the line between fantasy and reality with jake isn’t as strict as you thought.

you’re lounging in your apartment, your textbooks pushed away for the day, when a knock on your door jolts you out of your thoughts. you get up, not expecting anyone in particular, and open the door. your breath catches in your throat when you see jake standing there, in nothing but a towel. water droplets glistening on his skin.

your mind suddenly feels scrambled. 

“sorry to bother you, y/n,” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “but i’ve got no hot water in my apartment. could i finish showering here?” the way he says it makes it sound so casual.

“uh, yeah, sure, come in,” you manage to stammer, stepping aside as he slips past you, you force your eyes to stay looking at the ground. 

you lead him to your bathroom, trying to not focus on the fact that he’s only in a towel. 

he stands in your bathroom, looking around at it, curiously. he smiles to himself as he examines the way you’ve decorated it, cute. 

“ok, i think i’ve got it from here, y/n.” he says to you, trying not to laugh at the way he’s caught you staring at his body. 

“oh, right! sorry, yeah, i’ll be out here when you’re done!” you stutter and scramble to close the bathroom door, hearing his chuckle behind it. you cringe at yourself as you walk away from the bathroom door, hearing the water from the shower start. 

you sit back on your couch, trying not to imagine your hot neighbour naked in your shower. 

when you finally distract yourself by focusing on your phone, you hear the bathroom door open, the water stopped. 

“uh, y/n?” jake’s voice calls out to you. 

“yeah?” 

“can you come look at the shower? i think your hot water is broken too.” 

“what?” you groan out as you stand, “no!” 

you enter the doorway of the bathroom, jake’s towel is even looser around his hips, his full lower abdomen on display, water droplets disappear underneath the towel. 

“i was just using it and it was hot for a second and then it turned cold.” jake explains and steps aside, letting you walk past him so you could see for yourself. 

your hand reaches out and turns on the knob, instantly feeling hot water against your hand. your eyebrows furrowed together as you stand straight, “it’s hot now, that’s weird.” you turn to look at jake, who’s leaned against the counter, a smirk on his face as he obviously feigns confusion. 

“oh really? it turned ice cold on me, maybe you fixed it for me.” jake nods, staring straight at you. 

“yeah, maybe.” you try to sound confident, ignoring how small the bathroom finally felt and how inviting jake’s bare core looked. 

jake turns his attention to your shower, “so, you’ve never had shower sex before?” 

instantly your cheeks heat up and you try to act like you aren’t freaking out inside. 

“um, no, never.” 

“but you’ve thought about it right?” jake encourages you to speak, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth. you can feel his eyes scanning you, eating you up and undressing you. 

“um, i mean, uh,” you stuttered out, not being able to look at him. 

“you’ve never thought about me? in the shower?” 

your eyes jolt up to look at him, shocked– it’s like he’s read your mind. it’s like he knows everything you’ve ever thought about him. he reads you so well. 

you open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. you’re full of embarrassment and shock and lust. 

“you know our bedroom’s share a wall right y/n?”” jake continues, stepping forward, his basically naked body so close to yours. you try to not look directly at his muscular, wet chest, but it’s hard when he’s standing right in front of you. 

“yes.” 

“so you can hear me right?” 

your eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of your head, but you nod reluctantly. god, your neighbour is going to think you’re a freak. 

“well that means i can hear you.” 

your mouth goes dry at his statement, realizing that he’s heard you moan his name as you touch yourself late night. he’s heard you shrivel in your bed from the pleasure of your hands, wishing it was your neighbours instead of yours. 

god how could you be so careless? 

jake suddenly laughs, making you glance up at his face finally having enough courage. “don’t look so worried, y/n. you don’t think i liked listening to you moan? listening to you beg for me to make you cum?” 

you groan, your hands covering your face out of pure embarrassment. 

jake’s hands grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face so he can look at you. his face is so calm and amused. his body even closer to yours, his hands warm on your cold wrists. 

“i think you’re hot, y/n. and i want to make you feel good.” 

you can tell his confession is serious and it makes you feel like you’re dreaming. 

“will you let me?” 

“yes.” you finally manage to get out, your chest heaving as you breathe heavily. 

you watch him let go of your wrists and lean over you to turn the shower back on, the sound of the water hitting the marble floor of it fills your ears. 

“gonna let me show you why shower sex is my favourite?” jake teases, and you can’t help the small smile form on your face. which then drops instantly as he drops his towel on the floor, letting it pool between both of your feet. your eyes relish in the newly exposed skin, his cock already semi-hard and prominent. the vein’s on his cock are protruding and it makes you want to lick them one by one. 

jake, now completely naked, steps closer to you, his hands grabbing the bottom of your pyjama shirt and so slowly, lifts it up your body and above your head, leaving your chest bare for him to see. he groans as he stares at your tits, your nipples hard already from the cool bathroom air. 

his fingers play against the hem of your pants, “can i continue?” he asks, wanting your full consent. 

“yes, please, jake.”

he smiles at your politeness and pulls down your sweatpants at the same time as your panties, leaving you completely bare as you step out of them. jake takes a step back and takes in your body, bare for only him to see, “god you’re beautiful.” 

you try not to blush at his compliment, you think that surely he’s seen prettier girls than you, but right now, with the way he’s looking at you like he’s going to devour you, you try to push those thoughts out of your head.

jake guides you into the shower, following after you. the water is warm against your skin, wetting both your bodies together. 

jake lets you stand under the water, putting water on your hair and wetting it. you smile at him as he is gentle with you, making sure you’re completely wet like him. his thumbs brush against your cheek bones, he stares at you with a soft smile on his face that matches yours. 

one of his thumbs travels down to your bottom lip, playing with it and wetting it with your saliva. you let him easily slip his thumb into your mouth, your lips encircling it and sucking on it. your tongue gently traces it, teasing him. his own bottom lip is in between his teeth again, suppressing a moan at the feeling of you sucking on his finger. 

jake pulls his thumb out of your mouth and instead replaces it with his lips pressed against yours. he can’t take it anymore and neither can you. 

the first kiss is slow, but needy, your wet bodies pushed togther as the water cascades over your body. his lips feel better than you ever imagined. he tastes like mint and feels like heaven. 

it doesn’t take long for the kiss to become more heated. jake’s hands get braver as they travel from your jaw to your hips, they keep your body close to his. 

his lips start to travel across your jaw, pressing quick kisses into it before making his way down to your neck where he begins to suck and nipple on the sensitive skin. 

“jake…” is all you can say as he finds your sweet spot and sucks, the thought of him leaving a mark doesn’t disturb you. you want to be marked by jake. you want the reminder of him on you once tonight is over and you probably never see him again– let alone feel him again.

he presses you against the tiled wall, his body trapping you there. his hands cup your breasts, massaging them, tweaking your nipples, letting you whine out in pleasure into the bathroom. 

"you like that, don't you, baby?" he whispers against your lips. "you like it when I touch you like this."

you can only nod, your body on fire. you’ve thought about this so many times. you can feel his now hard cock press against your upper thigh. 

jake lowers himself, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, until he reaches your breasts again. he takes his time, worshipping your body, his hands gripping your hips as he kisses and sucks your sensitive flesh.

you wonder if he takes his time like this with every girl he hooks up with, lets them melt into him. you’ve heard him fuck countless of girls through your shared bedroom wall and you never imagined he was this attentive with them. 

"i want to feel your pussy," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "let me touch you, feel how wet you are for me."

he slides a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your core. you're already soaked, it doesn’t surprise you or him, and you gasp as he strokes your sensitive folds.

"so wet," he growls, his voice full of satisfaction. "you're ready for me, aren't you?"

you nod, your eyes closed, as he slips a finger inside you, beginning a slow, rhythmic motion.

"open your eyes, baby," he commands. "look at me while i finger-fuck this tight pussy."

you obey, your eyes locking with his as he adds another finger, stretching you, filling you with pleasure. he works you expertly, his thumb circling your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. he keeps his eyes locked with yours and you suddenly find it hard to even stand up anymore. your knees feel weak as he fucks his fingers into you. 

you haven’t been touched by someone other than yourself in so long that even the different stretch of his fingers make you whine out. you shrivel against the wet wall of the shower behind you. 

the wet sounds of his fingers fucking into you mix with your cries that echo through your bathroom that are covered by the sound of the shower’s water. your hand reaches down and hold onto his shoulder for support. you try to obey him and keep your eyes open and focused on him, but the pleasure is getting to be too much too soon. 

then, jake wraps his lips around your clit and you know that you’re a goner. his lips suck your clit into his mouth, his tongue circling it quickly. you cry out loudly, feeling the pressure form in your stomach quickly– needing release. 

"jake, i'm... i'm gonna..." you pant, your breath coming in short gasps.

"cum for me, baby," he urges, his fingers working faster. "let me feel your pussy clench around my fingers."

his words push you over the edge, and you cry out, your orgasm ripping through your body. your vision goes blurry as your body shakes against the shower wall. his fingers don’t stop fucking into you until your cries die down and your body relaxes against the wall. 

jake pulls his fingers out of you and immediately pops them into his mouth, sucking around them. 

“oh my god!” you exclaim in surprise as he groans around his fingers, enjoying the taste of you– wanting to taste even more of you. 

“what? you taste good.” jake shrugs at you and stands up fully again, his hands resting on your hips. before you can answer his lips press into yours, you allow his tongue to enter your mouth so easily. you let yourself taste your juices off of his tongue and lips, moaning at the obscenity of it. 

“you gonna let me fuck you now?” jake asks you, a soft smirk on his lips. 

“please,” 

jake wraps his arms under your thighs, lifting you up so neither of your feet are touching the ground and instead are wrapped around his waist, securely. 

he takes his time with you again once you’re in position. his lips find yours, pressing into yours so slowly and softly. but neither of you can ignore the way his hard cock is pressing into your wet pussy– open and on display just for him. 

suddenly, with one smooth thrust, jake pushes his cock into you. it feels you so suddenly and perfectly that it has you gasping out and taking your breath away. 

"oh, fuck," he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly. "you're so tight, so hot around my dick."

he begins to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. the water cascades over your bodies, adding to the sensuality of the moment. you meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper. needing him deeper. 

jake stills his hips and watches you bounce up and down on his cock while he holds you up in the air. “oh my fucking god,” he groans out, watching how needy you are for his cock. 

you use his shoulders as leverage, allowing your body to fully move up and down his cock– the tip hitting your g spot every single time he enters you fully. he fills you right to the brim. your nails dig into his shoulder, the pleasure so much so quick yet again for you. you’re almost disappointed in yourself. 

"that's it, ride me, baby," he encourages, his hands gripping your thighs. "take all of me."

you're lost in a haze of pleasure, the hot water and jake's voice in your ear drive you wild. your pussy feels like it’s on the edge of cumming, but you tell yourself to hold it. you need this moment with jake to last longer.

your hips start to stutter and both you and jake know that you’re getting tired even though you don’t want to stop. but, jake takes over for you. 

he grips your hips harder and holds you still up against the shower wall as his cock starts to drill into you. 

“oh fuck!” you cry out, clenching your teeth together as he pounds up into you. 

you can hear the squelching of your pussy as he moves in and out of you. the sound of his wet thighs hitting yours with the shower water mixed between. his thumbs are drilling into your hips but you don’t care– you can only focus on the way he’s drilling into you at a rough, quick pace. 

your neighbour fucks just as good as you thought he would. 

jake suddenly stops, both of your chests heaving. your slightly glad he stopped, you were feeling too close to the edge for your liking. he sets you down on your feet and gives you only one command, “turn around.” 

you do as he says and press the palms of your hands against the shower wall. you feel jake’s hands slide down your body, resting on your hips before a harsh slap hits your ass, making you jolt forward in shock. 

“fuck i love your ass— always so perky and teasing me in the halls.” jake grunts out, his hand soothing over the wet, red skin of your ass. “wanted to fuck you as soon as i saw it, fuck.” 

his grunted confession makes you whimper out, your pussy clenching around nothing– needing jake’s cock back inside of you. you hear jake chuckle deeply behind you, almost completely covered from the sound of the water, but sure enough you feel the tip of his cock enter your folds. he teases you, rubbing it up and down, collecting more of your juices before sliding back into you at once. 

your jaw drops open against the shower wall. you don’t think you could ever get use to the feeling of him so deeply inside of you. 

jake starts to fuck you again, going at a slow, rough pace. everytime he slides back into you its hard- making your body jolt against the shower wall in front of you. you can feel every vein of his cock sliding in and out against your pussy walls. you feel almost drunk on jake’s cock. 

“oh my god i could fuck this pussy forever,” jake grunts out behind you, “feels so fucking perfect.” 

“i-i know,” you answer him, feeling the same way as his cock fills you. 

“fuck, c’mere,” jake says and before you can move, he’s moving you for you. he grabs your body off the wall and pressing you close to him– your back right against his chest with his cock still lodged inside of you. 

his voice is in your ear as he sinks his hand down across your body and in between your legs, his fingers finding your enlarged clit so easily. your cry out at the touch, your head resting on his shoulder. his other arm wraps completely across your neck, holding you against him, subtly taking away your oxygen. 

jake starts to pound up into you harshly again, his hips not stopping as he fills you over and over again. his tip feeling like it’s bruising your cervix. his fingers massage rough circles into your clit. 

“just like that jake! just like that!” you cry out the best you can, his arm still choking you. the lack of oxygen to your head makes the pleasure feel 100 times better. “please don’t stop!” 

jake groans and grunts into your ear as he fucks you, and you think that this is the best position to be in. every fiber of your body feels like it’s on fire as jake pleasures you completely. your pussy is clenching so hard around his cock that it’s driving both of you crazy. 

"i'm close," he grunts, his jaw clenched with effort. "gonna fill that sweet pussy with my cum."

his words send you spiraling towards another climax. you tighten around him, your nails digging into his arm as you ride the wave of pleasure.

"cum with me, baby," he growls, his voice hoarse with desire.

your orgasm crashes over you, and you cry out his name, your body convulsing around his cock. jake follows, his thrusts becoming erratic as he empties himself deep within you. the feeling of his warm cum inside of you makes you moan out– you’ve thought about his cum inside of you so many times. 

jake lets go of you as he slides his cock slowly out of your sensitive pussy, and you start to lean into the shower wall to be able to stand up, but jake catches you again. he chuckles to himself, finding it amusing how weak and fucked out you are. 

he still stands behind you, and presses a soft kiss into your temple, “let’s get you cleaned up.” 

jake’s hands move over you with a softness that’s almost surprising, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. his touch is gentle, reverent, as he reaches for the soap, lathering his hands before he begins to wash you, starting with your shoulders and working his way down, slow and careful. his fingers glide over your skin, soothing and patient. 

“just relax,” he murmurs, voice low and tender, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as his hands move over your arms, washing away the lather in smooth strokes. he’s so close, his warmth mixing with the heat of the water, and you can feel his breath ghosting along your skin as he leans in, pressing another gentle kiss to your cheek.

he moves with a rhythm that feels natural, like he knows exactly what you need. his hands move lower, taking their time, massaging every knot of tension out of you with a patient, unhurried calm. it’s intimate in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and you close your eyes, letting yourself lean into him as he tends to you.

“you’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead. his hands slide up to your shoulders again, moving slowly up to your neck, fingers gliding through your hair, working the shampoo through your scalp with careful, almost delicate movements. 

you can’t help but wonder if he says that to every woman as he washes their body and hair for them. you’ve never been in this situation before, and you wonder if he has since this almost seems like a natural setting for him. jake’s so handsome and outgoing, you’re sure he has. you’re sure his words have no real meaning behind him– just a dialogue that he says to everyone after he’s fucked them. 

when he tilts your head back to rinse, his touch is steady, supportive, and he keeps one hand cradling your head as the water flows over you. his other hand moves to your back, tracing small circles as he presses a kiss to the side of your face, his lips lingering there for a long moment.

it feels so intimate, so caring and natural. like you’re meant to be with jake in this moment. you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to just live beside him after this. 

“i could stay like this forever,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet confession, and it sends a warmth through you that goes deeper than just the heat of the water. as he rinses the last of the suds away, he trails soft, lingering kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, his hands gentle and sure as he holds you close. 

you don’t know what to think of his words. does he mean to be in this shower– or be with you forever?

jake turns off the shower, and there’s a quiet that settles over you both as the water stops. he steps out first, grabbing a towel and gently wrapping it around you, taking his time to dry you off. his hands are gentle, moving over your arms, your back, as he dabs the last traces of water from your skin.

you notice how slow and gentle he’s going with you– you push the thought away of him going so slow because he wants to be with you longer. 

he reaches for your pajamas, and you let him guide your arms into the sleeves. he slides the fabric over your shoulders, his touch lingering just a second longer each time. once you’re dressed, he grabs another towel, his fingers combing through your hair with a softness that makes you feel cared for in a way that feels almost foreign. he dries each strand with careful strokes, brushing your hair out until it’s smooth and soft.

you wonder how he knows to brush your hair like this. 

“all done,” he murmurs, his voice warm, and he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, pulling you close for a moment. you both move to the bed, and as you settle under the covers, jake’s still wearing just his towel, water glistening on his shoulders in the dim light. 

he stands beside your bed, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you with your head placed right in the middle of your pillow. he thinks you look like an angel this way. 

“stay with me tonight?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can think twice.

“sure, baby.” 

jake slips under the blanket beside you easily, resting his head on the pillow and draping his warm arm over your body. he nuzzles his face into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple for the last time. 

with his arm around you, the steady beat of his heart next to yours, everything feels so calm, like the world has shrunk down to just this, just him. the thought scares you, but sleep takes over your mind completely. 

you fall asleep to the warmth of his touch, his arm holding you close, feeling safe for the first time.

you wake up to an empty bed, and you don’t need to look to know that jake isn’t there. you lay there for a moment, still tangled in the sheets, listening for any sound that might mean he’s somewhere in your apartment—a faint shuffle in the kitchen, the hum of the shower. but it’s silent, and somehow, you already knew it would be. you almost laugh at yourself, at the small part of you that still thought he might stay,

it’s almost funny, in a painful kind of way, how you let yourself believe, even for a night, that he could be different. you knew from the beginning he wasn’t the type to stick around, knew your neighbor was all charm and smiles. he’s never been into relationships, never been one to stay. just a one-night thing, nothing but something physical, no strings, no promises.

why would it be different with you? 

you finally sit up, feeling the soreness in your body, a leftover reminder of last night. your hair’s a mess, sticking in odd directions, and you push it back, your fingers tangling in the strands. a sigh slips out, unbidden, as you turn your head, your eyes settling on the wall—the wall that separates your apartment from his. it’s strange, how close he is, right there, on the other side, maybe still asleep or already gone about his morning.

close, yet so distant. so far.

you stare at that wall, at the invisible line between you, and for a moment, you let yourself think about how easy it would be to knock on his door, to say something, anything. but you know it wouldn’t matter. because last night was just a blip to him, something that meant nothing beyond the moment.

but for you, it left more than just temporary bruises on your neck and hips. 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

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