Being a kpop stan is so crazy because they'll tell you on a random Tuesday that the guy the entire group was formed around is leaving out of nowhere
ojovivo
$LAYYYTER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

oozey mess
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

tannertan36
Cosimo Galluzzi
DEAR READER

â

@theartofmadeline
occasionally subtle
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Misplaced Lens Cap
Three Goblin Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from TĂŒrkiye

seen from Indonesia

seen from India

seen from United States
seen from TĂŒrkiye

seen from India
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
@snghon
Being a kpop stan is so crazy because they'll tell you on a random Tuesday that the guy the entire group was formed around is leaving out of nowhere

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
we're getting pranked right đđđđđđ right guys đđđđđđđđ right đđđđđđđđđđ someone say right đđđđđđđđđ please someone anyone đđđđđđđđđđ
what do you mean heeseung is leaving enha...
Saddle Up! || SJY, 18+
Synopsis:Your best friend was back in town after almost 10 years. And fuck did he get hotter than hell.
Pairing: rancher!Jake x baker!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), virginity loss (f), cum eating, corruption kink, fingering, semi public sex (in a car), ab riding, oral (m and f receiving), head pusher jake my beloved, use of blindfold, use of sex toy (vibrator ring), chocolate sauce (dont ask), dom!jake, sub!reader, breast play, me and my romantic endeavours, best friends to lovers, not proofread
A/N: final installment!!! no because i died whilst reading this fic SIM JAEYUN MY HUSBAND GIVE HIM TO ME JEBAL JEBAL. As always, a big kiss to my baby @wichujunseo I hope she enjoys the ab stuff I wrote specifically for her. I had a shit ton of fun doing this and I hope you guys enjoyed it as well! đđmmwah mmwah now go get eaten out by jake
Word Count: 12.7k (yes its longer than jayhoon's and WHAT)
Series Masterlist
The world says love is a sweet thingâcream, honey, sugar, stuff like that.
Never in your life had you heard such absolute bullshit.
And youâd know! You were a baker after all. A baker with no such sweet things in her life other than the pastries sheâd line up on her counters everyday, sugar spun into soft peaks and piped into rosettes.
Tying your hair back, you washed your hands, stepping into the kitchen attached to your bakery. The scent of yeast and flour clung to the walls as you struck a match and lit the ovens. Somewhere far off, a lone coyote called against the horizon and you shook your head.
âThose damned things.â You swore under your breath, flour dusting your cheeks and apron. Outside, the sky bled from indigo to bruised violet to pale gold, sunlight crawling over the dunes.
They said it was strange for a woman to own a shop, stranger still for her to run it alone. But you had inherited the place after your fatherâs debts swallowed everything else, and you had kept it alive with stubbornness and blistered hands. People could whisper all they liked, but hey, they still lined up for your bread and tarts.
You stepped out front as dawn finally broke, unlocking the door and flipping the wooden sign to OPEN. You set about arranging the small wooden tables and chairs, adjusted the lace curtains and laid out the morningâs pastries in neat rows behind the glass.
Tarts glazed in apricot, cinnamon rolls coiled like sleeping cats, honey cakes brushed with syrup that caught the light. You stared at them for a moment, hands resting on the counter.
The world said love was like this, soft, golden and sweet.
Absolute bullshit.
When you were small, you believed it, watching your parents move around each other in the narrow kitchen of your childhood home, your fatherâs hand on your motherâs waist and her sweet laughter. The way they would lean close, speaking in murmurs you werenât meant to hear. It seemed like magic.
You remembered thinking that love must be something glowing, something sacred. Something that made people look at each other the way they did.
But you were older now. Old enough to remember the way your fatherâs eyes began to wander to other distractions, the way your motherâs laugh grew brittle.
Old enough to understand love wasn't magic. Call it heat, call it touch, call it bodies drawn together by something temporary. Call it lust.
Love, you decided, was simply lust dressed up in prettier words. You had never even been kissed, but you had heard enough whispered confessions from women who came into your shop and lingered over tea.
A gust of wind rattled the door, snapping you back to the present. You exhaled slowly and straightened a tray of sugared biscuits, the idea of âI am not lonelyâ running through your mind, as you shook your head over your low supply of sweet rum
The bell above the door jingled, and you looked up, arranging your face into polite warmth, to greet the customer. More customers trickled in as the sun climbed higher, cowboy hands with dust clinging to their boots, a pair of young boys sent by their mother for rolls, the postman, who always bought two apple tarts and claimed they were for someone else. You calmly wrapped up packages, counted change with the air of a mathematician and offered your smile, your movements extremely precise, as good after good kept getting sold. All was calm as it ought to be, you thought.
ââtold you heâd have that stallion down by noon,â A loud voice pierced through the air, as the bell rang again and a cluster of familiar ranchers entered together.
âDonât know how he does it.â Another replied, as you kept your head down and sliced their usual order of bread, âGonna put us all out of business, Iâm sure.â
âTen years gone and he comes back like that.â The first voice continued. Your knife slipped slightly, only slightly. You adjusted your grip and kept cutting, sliding the bread into paper and folding the corners more aggressively than usual.
âHe stopped by the smithy yesterday,â One of them said. âNeeded new horseshoes, spoke real respectful. Not like some.â
âHe always was decent,â another one with silver hair said. âeven back then.â A low whistle followed and your heart tightened.
âThatâll be six cents, sir.â You lifted your gaze just long enough to offer a polite expression as you handed over the package, taking the coins the man handed over.Â
You watched them move out of the building as swiftly as they had entered, waiting for them to fully cross the street before slumping against the wall with a heavy sigh. It was finally the late afternoon, which meant rush hour was over and youâd be free for a few hours before closing up.Â
Ten years gone and he comes back like that.Â
Your heart tightened again. You didnât need clarification, there was only one ânew rancherâ in town. Only one who had left a decade ago and returned broader, steadier and harder around the edges.
It had been three weeks since heâd returned. Ten years gone, and now three weeks back in townâand he still hadnât stepped foot in your shop.
Sim Jaeyun.
Why did the Gods ever give you Sim Jaeyun?
You tried not to think of his name too often. It felt dangerous somehow, like pressing on a fresh bruise. You thought back to last week, when youâd heard some older women talking about him, joking about how he wasn't married yet, but heâd probably have women lining up for him at his door soon. You had ignored themâold wives talkâbut something churned in your stomach.
Women lining up.
Of course they would. You imagined themâfixing their hair, adjusting their skirts, inventing reasons to wander near the edge of town at his ranch. You imagined him tipping his hat politely, offering that small, slow smile of his.Â
Did he smile differently now? The boy you remembered used to grin wide, boyish and careless. The man you had glimpsed outside the smithy had smiled like heâd seen things. You sighed as you reached for the sweet vanilla extract.
Jaeyun has always been sweet. Too sweet, all elbows and laughter and earnest promises. He used to bring you wildflowersâdry, stubborn little things that somehow survived in the desert. You would stick them in jars on the counter and pretend they were exotic blooms from some distant land.
He had come back taller now, broader to be precise, sun-browned and all sharp edges. You had seen him from a distance on his first dayâriding in at the edge of town, hat low over his eyes.Â
To be short and straight, he had come back looking like a damn five course meal.Â
His shoulders filled out his shirt in a way that made it pull across his back when he moved. And those gorgeous hands, veins like a network of rivers, visible and pulsing when he adjusted the brim of his hat. Jaeyun had always been handsome even when he was a boy. But god damn was he a hot piece ofâŠsomething now.
You told yourself you were too busy to seek him out and that he was busy too, setting up the new ranch heâd bought on the edge of town.It was reasonable that he hadnât come by yet, but something deep in you was kicking up a storm about it.
You couldn't help but remember your childhood, scraped knees, shared canteens, him carrying sacks of flour twice his size just to prove he could help you, sitting on overturned crates in the back stables of his fatherâs ranch, listening to you talk about anything and everything. You remembered the joy back then.
Back then.
Your hands stilled for half a second before you reached for the icing sugar.
You had been children, and you had loved him in the way children doâcarelessly, completely, foolishly, as if the world were small and safe and permanent. Then his father had sold their land, and Jaeyun had left with the promise that he would come back one day.
âIâll build you a proper place when I come back.â He said before he left, 15 year old hands wiping away your tears. âWith windows that look out over fields.â You had laughed at him. Fields in the desert. What a romantic idea. But he had said it like a promise and you believed him.Â
Somewhere along the lines of 19, you lost your hope. Your parents weren't getting any better and after your brother left, the house felt carnivorous and brittle, and you found yourself standing in a kitchen staring at hands that were capable of more than sitting still, looking pretty and listening to arguments.
The bakery had always been there, a modest place on the corner, owned by an old widow whose children had long since moved north. When she finally agreed to take you on as an apprentice, you knew that it was your chance to escape.Â
And it wasn't like you were completely useless either. The old woman admitted that you were quite the Picasso when it came to baking and when she passed, there was no question of ownership; your ties with your parents were already cut and dissolved and you needed a source of income, even if it meant sleeping in the bakery for a few months before you could save up enough to buy a house of your own.
The work was comforting too, in the manner that it was predictableâsomething that at that point you desperately needed in life. And of course the praise you got for your baking gave you the ego boost. So much so that even the travelers passing through made detours after someone mentioned the girl who made desserts that didnât taste like dust and disappointment.
âHoney! You there?âÂ
Ahh of course. The friends you made were the best part of it all.
âComing!â You peeled off your apron, dusting your hands and moving out front to see your friend, who owned the bar downtown.Â
To be honest, you didn't even remember how you two became friends, only that the incident definitely involved a lot of wine and two drunk women passed out on the front porch of the sheriffâs house.The next morning had arrived with the disapproving, but faintly amused expression of the sheriffâs wife.
âYou look alive.â She remarked now, eyes swapping over you critically before softening, âBarely.âÂ
She leaned against the counter on her elbows, sunlight framing her figure. There was always something faintly reckless about her smile, as though she knew exactly how far she could push the world before it pushed back.
âIâve been up since before the sun,â You leaned back against the wall. âSome of us run respectable establishments, you know.â
âIâll have you know my establishment is very respectable.â She scoffed lightly, though her cheeky smile remained, âThe men merely forget that after their third drink.â Her eyes wandered towards the display shelf behind you, inspecting the newer pastries, âYouâve been holding out on me honey.â She pointed towards one of the darker muffins, âThatâs a new one isn't it?â
You reached up and pulled it off, twirling it in your hand, âRan out of rum so I made this one with scotch.â You handed it to her, âThink it needs a quality check?âÂ
She giggled and took it from you with a little curtsey, immediately attacking the soft side with her teeth. She closed her eyes and sighed.Â
âIâm so glad I convinced you to make these.â She said through a mouthful of muffin, âI love you so much.âÂ
âIâm a woman in love unfortunately.â You laughed, warmth creeping into your chest, âSpeaking of which, Iâll need another delivery of sweet rum by tomorrow. Iâm nearly out.â
âIn love?â She raised a brow, âWith who, I wonder?â
âI ask you for a delivery and thatâs the first thing you ask?â You sighed, âOne day youâll admit youâre a thorough romantic.âÂ
She laughed with her whole stomach and so did you. You relaxed around her in a way you rarely did with anyone else, the one person who had seen you in all coloursâhungover, furious, exhausted, triumphant. Your friend leaned her elbows on the counter and studied you with a look that made you wary.
âWhat?â You asked, crossing your arms.
âOh, nothing.â She replied far too innocently. âJust wondering how long you plan on pretending you donât give a hoot.â
âAbout who?â Your spine stiffened slightly.
âAha.â She said triumphantly, âI never said it was a who.â She tilted her head, waving the half eaten muffin in front of you, âJaeyunâs back in town.â Your heart betrayed you immediately, thudding harder against your ribs.
âI donât know what you mean.â You said with the air of a royal butler, or in other wordsânot giving a fuck. But of course you weren't going to admit your innermost thoughts to her, about how you imagined the bell ringing.Â
Imagined looking up and seeing him there, filling the doorway, hat in hand, sun outlining the breadth of his shoulders, those hands resting briefly against the frame before he stepped inside. Would he stop in his path when he saw you? Would he smile that slow smile? Would he say your name the same way he used to? Your throat tightened unexpectedly, as you pressed your palms flat against the counter to ground yourself.
âYou do spill a lot when youâre drunk, you know.â Your friend hummed in disbelief, âAnd youâve been staring at that door ever since I came in here.âÂ
âIââ
âIf he does come in,â She leaned forward, elbows on the counter, âwhat will you say to him? Because from our last time, I recall you crying about how much youâd love to slap him across the face if he ever came back.â She grinned, âTo quote âfor leaving me alone all these yearsâ.â
âOh please.â Heat flared in your cheeks, âThat was years ago.â
âSix months but alright.â She said, as you shot her a look sharp enough to slice bread but she only looked on, seemingly delighted, âJust to be sure, youâre not heartbroken are you honey?âÂ
You opened your mouth to answer, and then closed it again to ponder on the question for a minute. You weren't heartbroken, not in the romantic sense at least. You just feltâŠabandoned. Left behind in a town that felt too small and too loud all at once, left to shoulder things you hadnât been ready for, left with a promise about windows and fields that had slowly begun to feel foolish.
âIt's stupid.â You said finally, âHeâs probably busy anyways, he doesn't have time to visit.âÂ
âYouâre his best frienââ
âWas.â You corrected her, âWas his best friend.â Your gaze flicked to the door once more and then away, âWeâre not children anymore, it's not like heâll still consider me as his best friend.â
âYouâre very good at pretending you know.â She replied gently, earning a groan from you.
âIâm not pretending!â You defended, âCross my heart, if he comes in front me Iâll just say hello and go on my merry waââ
It was a miracle your heart hadn't given out yet.
The bell above the door jingled, the sound slicing clean through the air and cleaving through you. Both of you turned at once. And for a split secondâjust a heartbeatâyou thought of what would have happened if he never left town.
Would the man filling the doorway in a way that made the bakery feel suddenly small have been yours? Yours to cherish and love? Yours to plant fields in a desert with?Â
The first thing you noticed was the breadth of him. The boyish angles you remembered had settled into solid lines, his shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt; his sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms marked by sun and work. His jaw was sharper, dust shadowing it faintly as if the desert had etched itself into his golden skin. God was he a hot piece of something.
âLadies.â Jaeyun tipped his hat and sauntered in, gait still as careless and cocky as back then. Your body reacted before your mind could reason, your breath catching, your heart leaping violently against your ribs.
Love is lust, you thought.Â
âWell well well.â Your friend drawled lightly, âIâve been wanting to catch a glimpse of the new rancher in town." She turned towards him with an easy smile, extending a hand, which he shook, âIâm surprised I haven't seen you by my bar yet, Jaeyun.âÂ
âIâd introduce myself, but it seems you already know me.â Jaeyun laughed lightly and for half a second you forgot how to breathe, âIâve been meaning stop by Miss, new friend of mine sang a lot of praise about your place.â
âNew friend?â Your friend glanced at you briefly before turning her interrogating gaze back to him, âWell, Mr. Jaeyun, three weeks in and a friend already. My my, Iâm curious.â
âSaid his name was Sunghoon.â Jaeyun removed his hat, running a hand briefly through hair that had grown darker with age. âYou know him?â His voice was rich and smooth like melted chocolate.Â
âOh donât I.â Your friend said through gritted teeth, âOh donât I know that damned cowboy.âÂ
The words barely registered, as you remained rooted behind the counter, your palms tingling, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. He laughed softly at something she said, the sound low and warm and you felt yourself fall deeper into the void you were traversing.
Your gaze traced him without permission. The way he stood, the way his hands rested against the counter when he leaned slightly forward, fingers long and calloused, a faint scar near his wrist you did not recognize, the line of his throat when he tilted his head.
And those eyes.
Those beautiful eyes. Two galaxies you wanted to dive into and rest your little tired heart in. He was no longer the boy you once ran through the wildflowers with. He was unmistakably a man. And here he was. In your bakery. Skillfully avoiding your gaze.
Your friendâs eyes flickered toward you briefly, sharp and knowing. She reached back without looking and squeezed your hand where it rested against the counter, the contact jolting you back into your body.
âIâll send someone over with that sweet rum, honey.â She said casually, withdrawing her hand. âWell, it was nice meeting you Mr Jaeyun. Iâd recommend the lemon tarts for today.â There was mischief in her tone and something gentler beneath it, âNow if youâll excuse me, I have to go..âŠ.thank Sunghoon.â
Before you could protest, she stepped past him, offering a parting remark about expecting to see him at the bar soon. The bell jingled again as she exited, leaving behind a quiet that felt almost tangible.
And then it was just you and him.
He turned fully toward you and for a moment, neither of you spoke.
âHi.âÂ
âHi.â
âSoâŠ..ââSo?âÂ
The air felt tight in your lungs. You became acutely aware of everything at onceâthe ticking of the cooling oven in the back, the faint hum of wind outside, the scent of citrus and sugar lingering between you.Â
âIs it really you?â Jaeyun said, running a hand through his hair again. By god, you wanted to slap him across the face.
And then hug him and never let go.
âIt is.â Your throat felt tight, as you diverted your gaze to the floorboards.
âYou look the same, love.â A faint smile tugged at his mouth. Love, how long has it been since youâd heard that beautiful word dance at his lips?
âWe both know thatâs a lie.â You forced yourself to straighten as though you werenât acutely aware of every inch of space between you. âI hear youâve been busy.â
Something flickered behind his eyes as he traced his gaze over you, as if remembering the lines to his favourite poem, something that heâd read long before, whose emotions heâd never forget even if he forgot its words.
âGetting the ranch set up. Took longer than I expected.â His gaze drifted around the bakery. âNice place you got.â
âThank you.â You said politely, as if your pulse wasn't stumbling at the moment.Â
Jaeyun leaned forward, both hands braced against the counter now. The wood creaked faintly under his weight. The movement brought him closer, you could see the faint scar along his jaw.
âWhy wonât you look at me, love?â He asked quietly. Your breath hitched. You had been studying the floorboards again, as if they held answers.Â
Jaeyunâs slender fingers came up carefully, brushing beneath your chin, gripping it with the softest touch just guiding your face upward with a gentleness that felt almost reverent. Slowly and reluctantly, your gaze lifted to his. Your pulse thundered in your ears.
âHmm, maybe I was wrong.â His eyes held yours with an unwavering intensity, âYou do look different.â His fingers smoothed from your chin to cup your cheek in his palm, âYou look stronger, love. What happened to that girl I knew all those years ago whoâd hide from sheepdogs hm?â
To hear those words felt like stepping into sunlight after years indoorsâblinding, warm and overwhelming. Quite akin to feeding a starved angel ambrosia. All theyâd do is throw it all up, having accustomed to the feeling of hunger.
âShe died when you left her.â You heard yourself say, the sentence slipping out before you could soften it. There it was. A fucking slap to the face. His expression shifted, something heavy clouding behind his eyes.
âI didnât have a choice,â he said quietly.
âI know.â You did know. You had always known. But knowing wouldn't erase the emptiness, "Couldn't have written me a damn letter, Jaeyun?â Your vision blurred before you could stop it. You hated that your eyes burned, that after all these years of building up your walls, one look from him could destroy them.
âLove Iââ
âYou donât get to call me that.â You laughed crudely. You shook your head, stepping back a fraction, breaking the contact. Your hands came up defensively, not against him, but against the swell in your chest. Jaeyun studied you as though searching for something familiar beneath the years.
âYou left.â You said, and your voice trembled despite your efforts. âYou left and you didnât write. You didnât come back. And I kept thinkingââ Your breath hitched. âI kept thinking maybe you forgot about me.â
âLove, don't say that.â Jaeyunâs expression changed, hurt, immediate and unguarded. âI could never forget you.â
âThen why did it feel like you did, Jaeyun?â The tears spilled fully now, quiet and hot down your cheeks, âWhy did it take you three fucking weeks to come see me?â Your hands trembled, âDo you know what it was like? Watching everyone move on like you were just another boy who left? I didnât even get to be angry properly because I knew you didnât have a choice.â
âI was alone,â The words scraped their way out. âEverything was falling apart at home. My brother was gone. My parents wereââ You stopped, shaking your head. âAnd I kept thinking youâd walk back in any day to hand me a stupid flower and tell me a stupid joke.â
Your chest heaved. You wiped your eyes, though they filled up again when you looked at him. Your heart stuttered again, the absolute beauty of him knocking the air from your lungs.
âI needed my best friend,â You whispered, âand you weren't there.â You took a deep shuddering breath in, âSo forgive me if I donât let you call me what you used to all those years ago, Jaeyun.âÂ
The space between you felt unbearable. Yes, you wanted to go to him. Yes you wanted to throw yourself at him and cry your heart out. You wanted to do all that. So what was it that held you back?
Was it the hatred you had for him leaving you? The fear of breaking down the walls that had kept you safe all these years?
Or was it the tiny tug at your heart that wanted him, needed him, to step to you first?
Jaeyun moved then, rounding the counter quietly, boots soft against the floor. The familiar scent of sun and leather and something unmistakably him drifted closer, making your pulse trip. For a split second, you thought he might stop short.
He didnât, stepping into your space slowly as if giving you enough time to retreat
You didnât, hands coming to rest on his shoulders, as if this was routine.Â
His arms came around you with a firmness that stole the breath from your lungs. One arm wrapped high around your shoulders, pulling you fully into him, sliding up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair. The other anchored at your lower back, spreading warm and solid against you as though afraid you might disappear.
Heat bled through your clothes where his chest pressed against yours. His heart was beating hard; you felt it against your cheek as your forehead tipped forward without permission.
You clutched at the back of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like you were afraid of falling. The material bunched beneath your grip and he tightened his hold in response, pulling you impossibly closer until there was no space left between your bodies.
It was the kind of hug that wasnât polite and sweet. It was desperate, like a wolf clawing at the sheep it once loved.
Years folded in on themselves, the ache of waiting, the nights you pretended you didnât care, the empty space beside you where he used to sitâall of it seemed to press into that single embrace.
Your face buried against his chest, breath shaking as it hit the cotton of his shirt. He was warm in a way that steadied the world beneath your feet. His chin rested against the crown of your head like it had always belonged. One of his hands shifted, splaying against your back, fingers flexing slightly as if reassuring himself you were real.
You felt him exhaleâslow and heavyâagainst your hair. Your tears soaked into his shirt, but neither of you moved to pull away. His grip didnât loosen when your shoulders trembled. If anything, he held you tighter, arms firm and protective, he was bracing against a storm and choosing to stand in it with you.Â
Your heartstring tugged again.
You hadnât realized how cold youâd been until you felt warm again.
âIâm sorry.â His voice went to your soul, âI know it wonât do anything, but I am sorry.â His fingers curled gently at the nape of your neck, thumb brushing once against your hairline, âI missed you so much, love.â His forehead brushed yours, as you clung to him harder, âNot a day passed where I didn't think about you.âÂ
You let out a broken laugh that dissolved into another sob. âI was so damn angry,â You confessed. âAnd I missed you so much it felt stupid, Yeun.âÂ
His arms tightened around you at the sound of that nickname. Yeun, he never knew his own name to sound so melodic.
âIâll make it up.â Jaeyun said into your hair, âI swear Iâll make up all that time we lost, love.â The words vibrated through his chest into you, breaking something slightly open inside you, âPinky promise?â
A small, watery laugh escaped you. âYouâre so stupid.â You muttered into his chest.
âThat I am.â He replied softly.
His hand moved slowly up and down your back in reassurance, softening the ache that had settled in your chest.
Love is lust, you thought.
Were you willing to allow him to make it feel kinder?
______________________
The next few days felt like a fever dream.Â
Jaeyun came in the next morning. And the morning after that. And the one after that.
Always at different times, as if trying to convince both of you that it wasnât routine, sometimes just before the lunch rush, leaning casually against the display case while you boxed pastries, sometimes late afternoon, when the sunlight slanted gold and painted him in honeyed light.
Jaeyun slipped back into conversation as if the years were only a misplaced afternoon, cracking his silly little jokes, nudging at you when you got too serious and teasing you about your frazzled hair after attending to a lot of customers at once (âDidnât know a witch lived in this town.â âThere is a knife in my hands Sim Jaeyun.â)
He was a lingering presence at your bakery, sometimes perched on one of the stools near the counter, boot hooked on the rung, sometimes helping carry a flour sack in without asking. Once, you caught him sweeping near the doorway after a group of teenagers tracked dirt across your clean floor.
âYou donât work here,â You muttered.
He shrugged. âLooks like you could use the help.â It was infuriating how good he looked doing simple mundane things.Â
It was infuriating how much you wanted to jump on him and bite his arms.
As if to push the knife in deeper, customers began to expect him. The sheriff, Jay, asked if he was on payroll. Your friend only smirked every time she walked in and saw him there, like sheâd predicted this outcome long ago. By the end of the week, his presence no longer startled you. It settled around you instead like background music.Â
But perhaps the most terrified person in the entire town was Jaeyun himself.
When the bakery quieted and you were turned away from himâreaching for a jar on the highest shelf or bending slightly over the counter to scribble an orderâJaeyunfound himself forgetting whatever he was about to say.
You had changed. Of course you had.
The girl he used to race through wildflowers with had grown into something softer and sharper all at once. There was confidence in the way you moved now, your laughter slow and warm. And it did something dangerous to him.
The first time he truly noticed it was when you stepped into the sunlight by the window, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears, the late afternoon glow catching along the curve of your cheek. He had meant to make a joke. Instead, his breath had stalled in his chest.
By god, were you gorgeous.Â
The second time was when you bent over in front of him to pick up something on the floor and Jaeyun had to drag his eyes away from the slightest peek of your ass in your panties when your skirt lifted up.Â
By god were you so fucking gorgeous.Â
Of course he had always known you to be pretty, even back then, beautiful in a way that almost felt unfair. Jaeyun often found himself thinking about you at inconvenient times. Out at the ranch, reins loose in his grip, staring across dry land, the image of you looking up at him through your lashes would pop into his mind and heâd have to go inside to take care of his littleâŠâŠproblem.
It stole the air from him every single time and sometimes, when you werenât looking, he would study you with a kind of stunned reverence he didnât dare let you see. Every curve of your body, every single line and dot that shaped you, every detail that he longed to see up close.Â
And your legs of course.Â
What he would do to be suffocated by those legs.
The realization that he was thinking such thoughts about youâhis best friendâdid something complicated in his chest. Awe, regret, desire all tangled together. There were moments he had to drag his gaze away just to breathe properly again.
But god damn those fucking legs.
One evening, just before closing, you found him leaning against the doorway, sleeves rolled up, forearms (veins, veins, veins) dusted faintly with flour from helping you knead dough.Â
âYou know,â Jaeyun said lightly, âif you keep feeding me like this, Iâm going to start expecting benefits.â
You snorted. âYou get a free croissant and suddenly you think youâre staff?â
âI think I deserve at least a name tag.â
You wiped your hands on your apron, failing to hide your smile. The sky outside was streaked with deep pinks and purples, when you finally locked the door and flipped the sign to Closed, he was still there, leaning against the fence, hat in hand, hair gently blowing in the wind.
âWhere are you rushing off to today?â Jaeyun drawled in that tone that always had butterflies flying in your stomach.
âNowhere.â You hummed slowly, stepping onto the street, âJust got a bottle of wine at home thatâs calling my name.â His gaze lifted to yours, steady but careful as he joined you in walking down the street. âI can share.â You added, as if it were an afterthought.
âIâd like that,â Jaeyun said, grinning his goofy grin.
And that was how you ended up here.
The wine caught the light, deep and red and slow as it filled your glass again, third glass of the evening to be precise. The laughter bubbled up between you, warm and easy, as Jaeyun leaned back against the sofa cushions, his arm stretched out along the backrest, fingers dangling just close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin.Â
The glass of wine sat heavy in your hand, the deep crimson liquid swirling as you took a slow sip, letting the tartness linger on your tongue. His stories from the ranchâtales of stubborn horses and endless sunrisesâhad you both in stitches, the kind of joy that felt like slipping back into an old, comfortable rhythm after all those years apart.
But as the evening deepened, the conversation shifted, meandering from the lighthearted to something more personal. Marriage came up first, Jaeyun mentioning offhand how some of the ranch hands back west had tied the knot, settling down with women who'd followed them into the dust.
âNever seemed like my path thought.â His voice dropped a notch, eyes flicking to yours with a curiosity that made your pulse quicken. âAnd you, love? Anyone ever catch your eye?â
You did, you idiot.
His hand, which had been resting innocently on his thigh, shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers now brushing the edge of your knee through the thin fabric of your pants. It was accidentalâor so it seemedâbut the contact sent a spark up your leg. You swallowed, setting your glass down on the coffee table, the clink echoing in the sudden quiet of the room.
âNot really.â Your voice was softer than intended, âBut you know ten years is a long time. You must have met some women too.â
Jaeyun's grin faded into something more thoughtful, his gaze drifting to the window where the streetlights cast faint shadows across the floor. He paused, and in that moment, his mind wandered to the women he'd knownâfleeting encounters in dusty motels or under starlit skies, bodies pressing close in the heat of the night.
But as he thought of them, their faces blurred, replaced by yours: the way your lips curved when you laughed, the flush creeping up your neck now. He imagined pinning you down, thrusting deep until you gasped his name, writhing beneath him, your melodic moans filling the air. The thought stirred something low in his gut, his cock twitching faintly against the confines of his jeans.
âA few.â Jaeyun said, hand inching just a fraction closer to your thigh. âNobody that stuck though. Just... passing through, you know?âÂ
He turned the question back, his fingers now fully resting against your leg, a light pressure that made your breath hitch. âYou havenât answered my question though, love. Who's been making your heart race while I was gone, hmm?â
You gasped softly when his hand squeezed your thigh gently, his eyes raking up and down your body. The rancher life had sculpted him into something powerful, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt, veins tracing paths along his forearms as he sipped his wine, his lips faintly stained red.Â
Snap out of it!
âYou think youâre the only one who can make my heart race?â You asked, pressing your arms together. His eyes flickered down for half a second to your cleavage in your tank top, bingo, âReally Yeun?â
âAm I not?â Jaeyun said, running a tongue over his lips, oh fuck him, âIsnât that why youâre not answering my question, love?â
âHmm maybe.â You giggled, âIâll admit it, thereâs no one yet.â You sighed and tipped your head back against the headrest, closing your eyes, making sure to curve your body just right so he could see your chest properly, âNever even kissed anybody you know.â The wine had loosened your tongue, âIâve read about it of course, sex and all that.â The warmth of his touch had emboldened you, âDo you think it feels good, Yeun?â
Jaeyun's eyes darkened with desire as he took in your words, his gaze lingering on the swell of your breasts before snapping back up to meet yours. His hand slid further up your thigh, fingers digging into your soft flesh possessively.
âIt feels amazing, love.â He rumbled, his voice a deep, seductive purr. "You have no idea how good it feels." He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, âTastes juust as sweet as your pastries, if you want a comparison so badly.â
You shivered at his words, pulse pounding in your ears. You'd never been touched like this before, never felt someoneâs hands on you with such blatant hunger. It felt intoxicating.
The room went still, save for the soft hum of the clock on the wall. Jaeyun's hand stilled on your leg, his thumb tracing a slow circle that sent shivers racing across your skin. He searched your face, his expression a mix of surprise and something deeper, tender.Â
âWould you like to, angel?â He murmured voice low and intimate, âBe kissed I mean.â
Your heart pounded, a rush of nerves flooding through you. Your cheeks burned as you met his gaze, was it really a sin to have your best friend be your first? Just two days ago you two were sweetly baking cookies together. And now you were here, your mind screaming at you to get onto that sweet, sweet lap of his.
Lust had never felt so damn euphoric.
Your movements were slow and careful as you moved, propelled by a desperate need to feel his lips on yours. With a sudden burst of courage, you climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Jaeyun's eyes went wide with surprise, then darkened with desire as he took in your position, setting his glass down, but not touching you yet.
âAnd if I said yes?â You kept your gaze on him, eyes hooded, âWhat would you do if I said yes, Jaeyun?â His hand slid up to cup your cheek, rough palm gentle against your skin, which then traced down to cup your jaw, thumb tracing your lower lip.
âThen I supposeâŠ.â His voice was smooth with unleashed desire, âIâd do this.â
Jaeyunâs lips met yours softly at first, a brush of warmth that made your eyes flutter shut. The kiss deepened slowly, his mouth moving against yours with a deliberate tenderness, tongue teasing the seam of your lips until you parted them, letting him in.Â
He tasted of wine and sugar, mixed with the faint salt of his skin. Your hands found his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle there as the kiss grew hungrier, his free hand settling on your waist, pulling you nearer.
âFuckâŠâ He mumbled into the kiss. He tore his mouth away from yours only to blaze a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his teeth scraping delicately over your racing pulse.
âYeunâahâŠâ You said, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the foreign noises coming from your mouth. Jaeyun only chuckled into the curve of your neck.
âThat feel good, love?â He cupped your breast through your top, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, âMy pretty angel likes when I touch her like that hmm?â
âYeunnnâ You whined, hips moving against his hard length unconsciously.Â
âWhat happened, my sweet angel?â He lifted his head to meet your gaze, âTell me what you want, love.âÂ
âIââ You found yourself squirming beneath him as his mouth explored your throat, his hands teasing your body with expert touches that had you aching for more, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer, âwant you to fuck me.â Your words were barely audible, only spurring Jaeyun on.
âWhat was that?â He said, hand reaching up to grip the back of your head, "Couldn't hear you, love, say that again.âÂ
âI want you to fuck me!â You whimpered, cheeks burning at his words, âPlease?â Jaeyun silenced your pleas with a kiss, lips claiming yours as he jut his hips up. You shuddered at the feeling, so big and hard and hot against you.
"Bedroom," Jaeyun said, his eyes blazing. "Now."
With a jerky nod, you let him guide you off the couch and lead you towards your bedroom, anticipation and arousal building with each step, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that sent your pulse racing anew. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, the bed inviting with its rumpled sheets.
Jaeyun turned to you, his hands framing your face again as he kissed you once more, slower this time, savoring. His fingers trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, slipping under to brush the bare skin of your stomach.Â
You shivered, arching into his touch, and he broke the kiss to murmur against your ear, âTell me if you want to stop.â
âI don't.â You replied, voice steady despite the tremor in your limbs. Emboldened, you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal his chest, tanned and marked with faint scars. Your hands explored him, tracing the ridges of muscle, the warmth of his skin under your palms.
He helped you out of your clothes next, patient and reverent, top discarded, then pants sliding down your legs until you stood in just your underwear. His eyes roamed over you, appreciative and hungry.
âYou're so gorgeous, love.â He said simply, stepping closer to kiss your shoulder, then your chest, lips lingering on the swell of your breasts through the fabric.
His mouth found yours in a brief, heated makeoutâlips pressing firm, tongue slipping in to taste you, exploring with a gentleness that made your knees weak. It was electric, his stubble grazing your chin as you reached for his jeans, fumbling with the button, and he assisted, kicking them off along with his boxers.
God he looked so perfect  thick and hard, curving slightly upward, the head already glistening with precum. You stared, curiosity and desire mixing in your core, an ache building between your thighs.
âStaring are we?â He chuckled, setting you down gently on the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs.
âN-No.â You muttered, acting as if you weren't on the verge of having a heart attack with how hard your heart was beating.
âCalm down, love.â Jaeyun's hands were everywhere and nowhere at once, soft and reverent, âWeâll go slow yeah?â He cupped your face first, kissing you deeper now, slower, his tongue coaxing yours in lazy circles.Â
âYou're beautiful, angel.â He breathed, trailing kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at your collarbone. He was so careful, like you were something precious, âTell me if it's too much.â But you shook your head, pulling him closer.
His mouth descended, lips closing around one nipple, sucking gently while his tongue flicked over it. You moaned, low and surprised, your back bowing as heat pooled between your legs. Jaeyun laid you back on the bed, hovering over you, his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing you. You felt so vulnerable under his gazeâyour books had never said anything about this odd feeling in your chest.
âNeed to stretch you out first, yeah?â He settled between your thighs. His hand cupped your pussy, fingers parting your folds gently, and you tensed, unused to the touch. âRelax for me angel. I've got you.â One finger pressed against your entrance, slick with your growing arousal, and he pushed in slowly, âEver touched yourself like this, love?âÂ
Your fingers were nothing compared to his, you couldn't even answer him, mind already hazy. The stretch was unfamiliar, a burn that quickly melted into pleasure as he curled his finger inside you, stroking that sensitive spot.Â
âYeunâŠoh! Oh godddd thatâsâŠamazing.â The sensation built, waves of heat radiating from your core, your walls clenching around his digit. You writhed beneath him, moans spilling freely, amazed at how your body respondedâwet sounds filling the room as he pumped his finger deeper, preparing you.
âLike that?â He added a second finger, scissoring them to open you up, his thumb circling your clit in firm, steady motions, âMy pretty angel likes my fingers?â
âYesâoh, Jaeyun!â The words dissolved into a whimper as he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.Â
âYou're so tight, love.â He groaned, watching your face, his free hand stroking your thigh. âGonna feel incredible around me.â The praise sent shivers through you, and in the heat of the moment you reached down, palming his cock.
âTch tch.â Jaeyun clicked his tongue, âSo impatient.â He worked you steadily, thumb on your clit, building the rhythm until your breaths came in pants, body tensing, âCum for me first, love.â
When you shattered, it was with a guttural cry, pussy pulsing around his fingers, cum coating his hand in a rush of warmth. He didn't stop, drawing out the waves until you were trembling.
âYeun Yeunâoh ohhhhhâ You whined, already feeling your bones give out. Jaeyun withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean, tasting you with a groan.Â
âSo fucking sweet, angel.â He settled between your thighs, hands gripping your hips as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, then higher, breath hot against your core, âTaste like heaven for me.âÂ
âAhhâYeunâŠâ You moaned loud, propping yourself up by the backs of your elbows to see just what he was doing. You caught sight of his drunken eyes between your legs, âYeun whatâoh fuck!âÂ
His tongue pressed, pressed, pressed flat against your pussy, lapping up the remnants of your earlier release. He sucked your clit gently, then delved deeper, tongue fucking into you, exploring every inch. Your hands fisted the sheets, thighs quivering as he ate you out with focused intensity, nose brushing your clit, lips sealed around your folds.
âJaeyun!â You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue circled your clit, flicking it with teasing licks that sent jolts of ecstasy up your spine, âYeun oh godâright there right there!âÂ
Your pleas made him moan desperately into your folds, his dick straining, aching to plunge into your tight heat. He added a finger alongside his tongue, pumping it in and out while he sucked harder on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge, but he held back just enough, savoring your begging as your arousal dripped down his chin.
âOh god, Yeun, please.â Your voice broke, your body was on fire, every nerve lit up, thighs trembling around his head. The pressure built fast in your belly, coiling tight, but it's not enoughâyou needed more. âFuck me, please!â You begged, your words tumbling out needy, hips grinding against his face. âWant you in me Yeun please pleaseâahh fuck fuck!â
Jaeyun lifted his head from between your thighs, his lips shiny with your juices, eyes dark and feral as he stared down at you. Your pussy throbbed from his tongue's relentless assault, clit swollen and sensitive, the ache deep inside you screaming for fulfillment. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug grin curling his lips as he heard your ragged breaths and saw the desperation etched on your face.
âLook at you, love.â He murmured, voice husky and low, âBegging like thatâŠâŠdriving me insane angel.â He rose, kissing you deeply so you tasted yourself on his tongue, âPretty girl wants my cock so bad hmm? What have you been reading while I was gone, sweetheart?âÂ
You didnât have it in you anymore to answer, instead staring at his cock, long and girthy, veins pulsing along the shaft, the head already leaking pre-cum. He was built like everything else about him, overwhelming and powerful. Jaeyun positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip through your slick folds.
âAhâYeunâŠfeels so good.â You whispered, a mix of awe and nerves in your voice. Jaeyun smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you softly.
âWeâll go slow angel.â He promised, reaching down to place both your hands on his shoulders, âReady?â
At your shy nod, Jaeyun smiled and then pushed in, the head breaching you with an agonizingly slow thrust. It split you open, the stretch intense, bordering on pain as your pussy yielded to his thickness.
God this man was so fucking big.
âYeun!â You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, but he paused, kissing your forehead and your cheeks.Â
âBreathe, love. You're doing so well.â Inch by inch, he sank deeper, filling you completely, your walls fluttering around his cock as it bottomed out, stilling to let you adjust, forehead pressed to yours, breaths shared in the intimate space.
The fullness was indescribableâevery ridge, every pulse of him inside you. âYeunâfeel so full fuckkk.â You had no idea what you were saying at that point, every single thought just Jaeyun Jaeyun Jaeyun. He groaned, burying his face in your neck, holding still until you adjusted, your hips starting to rock tentatively.
âSo tight, angel.â He whispered, âYou doing alright?âÂ
âMmhhâŠâ You sighed, âFeel so good Yeun.â You slowly wrapped your legs around him, nails digging into his back, âMoveâŠ.please.âÂ
When you urged him on, he began to moveâslow thrusts, pulling out almost to the tip before sliding back in, his cock dragging along your inner walls. The friction built pleasure steadily, your amazement turning to bliss as he fucked you softly, hips rolling in a gentle rhythm.
âFeelâhah fuck youâre so tightâ-feel good love?â He asked, voice strained, and you nodded, tangling your fingers into his hair. His hands roamed your body, one pinching your nipple, the other gripping your hip, but always tender, like he was savoring every moment.
The pace stayed languid, his thick cock stretching you with each pass, hitting spots that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Sweat beaded on his muscular chest, dripping onto your skin as he leaned down to kiss you, tongues tangling in time with his thrusts. Your climax built gradually, coiling tight in your belly, and you clenched around him, crying out his name.Â
âCloseâYeun Iâm, fuck..âŠcloseâ You felt him speed up, just a fraction, grinding against your clit.
You shattered first, pussy spasming around his cock, waves of ecstasy crashing over you soaked him with your release. Jaeyun kissed you through it, murmuring your name like a prayer, pace quickening as his own release neared.
He followed seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with hot cum, groaning your name like a prayer.Â
âFuck, loveâŠâŠso perfect.â He panted, still buried inside, holding you close as you both caught your breath, the aftershocks trembling through your joined bodies, âYou ok sweetheart?âÂ
âMore.â You mumbled, eyes half shut but god you wanted to feel that again and again and again, âWant moreee Yeun, please?â
âMore?â A breathy chuckle came from him, âYou sure, love? Donât wanna hurt you.â
âJust fuck me already, Jaeyun."
He didn't hesitate this time. Flipping you onto your stomach, he hiked your hips up, slamming back into your cum-slick pussy with a forceful thrust. The gentleness evaporated, replaced by raw powerâhis muscular body driving into you hard, cock pounding deep, splitting you wider with each brutal stroke.
 âLike that, love?â The bed creaked ominously, headboard thumping against the wall as he fucked you relentlessly, one hand fisting your hair, the other slapping your ass lightly to spur you on.âGod, sweet little pussy looovess me so much.â
You moaned into the pillow, the intensity overwhelming, pleasure bordering on too much as his thick shaft battered your cervix. âYes, Jaeyun...harder! Fuck!âÂ
He obliged, hips snapping faster, balls slapping against your clit, the room filling with the wet sounds of him railing you. Sweat slicked your skin, his muscles flexing with every plunge, and you pushed back, meeting his thrusts, chasing another high. The bed groaned louder, springs protesting, and you felt itâthe frame shifting under the force.
With a final, savage push, he drove in deep, and the bed gave way, one leg buckling with a sharp crack. You both tumbled slightly, laughing through gasps as he kept fucking you on the tilted mattress, undeterred.Â
Jaeyun flipped you to face him, his cock hammered into you, stretching your pussy to its limits, and you came again, screaming his name as your walls milked him. He whined high, pumping another load of cum into you, hot and thick, collapsing as the bed fully surrendered beneath you.
âOh god.â Jaeyun panted, slowly but surely pulling out of you after a few minutes of hard breathing, âOh my god I am so sorry.â
âYeun justââ You said, eyes fluttering close as exhaustion washed over you, ââjust shhhh.â
âI broke your beââ
âShhh.â
In the aftermath, tangled in sheets on the broken bed, he pulled you close, kissing your temple as you surrendered to the warmth of his bed, not giving a fuck about anything other than the sleep that was threatening to overtake you.Â
âGood night, my angel.âÂ
_____________________
A few days had passed since that unforgettable night in your bedroom, you two had fallen back into the easy rhythm of best friends, but now laced with stolen glances and lingering touches that sent sparks through your skin.Â
The desert sun beat down relentlessly as you helped him out at the ranch that afternoon, hauling feed buckets under the vast, cloudless sky. You had offered to help mostly to proveâto him and to yourselfâthat you could exist in his world as easily as he had begun to exist in yours. So you had tied your hair back with a ribbon that was already slipping loose, rolled your sleeves to your elbows, and followed him out.
The land stretched wide and gold around you, wind combing through tall grass in lazy waves. It was quieter than the town, open and airy.Â
You tried not to stare at the way his shoulders shifted beneath his shirt when he lifted a saddle or how easily he handled the tools laid out near the fence or how his shirt clung to his torso.
He explained something about new horseshoesâhow the ground out here had been rougher than expected, how he wanted to make sure the fit was right before taking the horse too far and you were nodding away like you hadn't been watching his hands for the past 30 minutes.
You'd chosen your outfit carefully that morning: a particularly short skirt that barely skimmed your thighs, the fabric light and teasing against your legs. Every time you bent to pick something up, you caught Jaeyun's eyes flicking downward, his jaw tightening. You could tell from the way his gaze darkened, how he adjusted his stance when you brushed past him, why did no one tell you the art of seduction felt so amazing?
And god, you were turned on too, mesmerized by his veiny hands gripping the tools, the cords of muscle standing out as he worked, and those defined abs peeking from under his hem when he stretched. The memory of them under your fingers from that night made your core ache.
The horseâa tall chestnut mare with a white blaze down her noseâsnorted softly as he ran a steady palm along her flank. She stamped once, impatient but not wild.
âWell sheâs certainly got spirit.â You said lightly, trying to sound braver than you felt.
âReminds me of someone else I know.â He glanced at you, amused. âYouâll be fine.â
He tightened the girth, checked the stirrups, then swung himself up into the saddle in one smooth, practiced motion. The movement was effortless, and for a brief second you simply stared. From atop the horse, he looked unfairly at home, sun catching in his hair, one hand resting loose on the reins. He leaned down slightly, extending his hand toward you.
âCome on.â Your stomach flipped at the sound of his voice. You stepped closer, boots crunching against dirt. His hand wrapped around yoursâwarm and calloused and before you could overthink it, he tugged.
You let out a small startled breath as your feet left the ground. The world tilted and then you were lifted, guided up and over, settling onto the saddle in front of him.
Your back pressed against his chest. It was an accident at first, a byproduct of space.
But then he adjusted you gently by the hips, positioning you more securely, and the contact became deliberate.
Close.
Far too close.
You were acutely aware of everything, the heat of him at your back, the solid line of his torso. The steady rise and fall of his breathing that brushed against your shoulder blades. Your hands hovered awkwardly before settling at the front of the saddle.
âComfortable?â He asked. You nodded, though your voice felt lodged somewhere in your throat. The horse shifted beneath you, muscles coiling with contained energy. Jaeyunâs boots nudged lightly at her sides, and she began to moveâslow at first, a careful walk around the paddock.
The rhythm was unfamiliar. Each step rolled through your hips, gentle but undeniable. You felt it everywhereâthrough your thighs, your spine, the space where his legs bracketed yours. His arm came around you loosely to guide the reins, forearm brushing against your waist, a highly practical thing.
It did absolutely nothing to steady your pulse.
The wind lifted strands of your hair, carrying the scent of leather and grass and him. You could feel the warmth of his chest through your shirt.
âYouâre stiff, angel.â He murmured, voice close to your ear. You exhaled, trying to relax your shoulders.
âIâm not used to this.â You said, âMore of a baker myself.âÂ
âOf course you are.â Jaeyun chuckled, âIâve got you.â
Highly simple words and they were making you go insane.
The mare picked up into a slow trot. The change jolted you slightly, and instinctively your fingers tightened on the saddle. The motion was sharper now, bouncing you subtly back against him. He adjusted without hesitation, his hand sliding more securely around your middle. Your breath hitched.
Every small shift brought you into closer contact, his chest against your back, his thigh firm along yours, the brush of his chin briefly grazed your hair when the horseâs stride lifted you both.
You tried to focus on the horizon, on the open sky, on anything but the heat blooming under your skin.
âSheâs moving well.â He said, more to himself than to you. You nodded again, though your thoughts were far from horseshoes. The mare startled then, a sudden surge forward when something rustled near the fence.
Why were the gods never on your side?
The trot snapped into something faster, tearing your breath from your lungs as the ground seemed to blur slightly. Your body pitched forward, unprepared for the speed.
Jaeyunâs arm shot firmly across your torso, locking around your waist. In one fluid motion, he pulled you back flush against him, your back colliding with his chest. His other hand tightened on the reins, guiding the horse back under control, but his arm never loosened.
You felt the strength in it, the tension, the protective instinct that had flared without a second thought and you were absolutely dead.
What an extraordinary person you were, you thought, this man had taken your virginity and this was what you were bubbling over.
The mare slowed after a few heartbeats, settling once more into a manageable pace. But he didnât release you. His forearm remained braced across your middle, palm splayed firmly at your side. You could feel the pressure of each finger through the fabric of your shirt.
Your entire body was pressed to his nowâhips aligned, shoulders pinned gently back against him. His chest rose and fell against your spine, slower now, but still charged with the remnants of adrenaline.
âYouâre okay.â He said, low and close. You nodded, though you werenât entirely sure what âokayâ meant in this context, âI think thatâs enough for one day.â The arm around you softened slightly but stayed in place, his thumb brushing once against your side.
You became painfully aware of how perfectly you fit there. The world seemed smaller now, narrowed to the space between his heartbeat and yours.
You were fucked.
As the sun began its slow descent, painting the dunes in oranges and golds, you two slowly walked back to his truck, having taken him up on his offer to drop you home. Your legs were a little wobbly from the unfamiliar rhythm of the saddle, and he noticed immediately, offering his arm without comment when the ground dipped unevenly.
Neither of you spoke much, not because there wasnât anything to say, but because the quiet had become strangely comfortable. You climbed into the passenger seat with a small sigh, leaning your head back against the cushion while Jaeyun slid into the driverâs seat and sat there for a moment, forearms resting on the steering wheel, catching his breath.
You glanced over at him. A strand of hair had fallen across his forehead and there was a flush high on his cheekbones. How very handsome.
âYou know,â You said after a moment with a lazy giggle, âI always carry chocolate sauce in my purse.â
Jaeyun blinked. He turned his head slowly toward you, brow creasing in confusion.
âYou what?â
You reached into your bag with theatrical seriousness, rummaging around until your fingers wrapped around the small bottle you kept tucked away, holding it up triumphantly. âFor emergencies.â
âFor emergencies,â Jaeyun repeated, mouth twitching.
âRefreses me.â You nodded sagely, âKinda like lemonade.â
âI don't think thatâs how it works, sweetheart.â He laughed, the sound of a gentle midnight drizzle.Â
âIt absolutely is.â You leaned back in the seat again, dangling the bottle between your fingers. âYou never know when youâll need a little sweetness.â
Jaeyun huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. But thenâunfortunately for himâhis brain betrayed him.
An image of you arrived immediately, chocolate on your lips, your mouth glistening sweet while you laughed the way you were laughing now.
And suddenly his throat felt dry and his dick felt a bit harder.Â
âYouâd look good like that.âÂ
Great fucking job, Jaeyun.
Silence fell as his words slipped out before he realized they had. Your hand stilled in mid air as he froze. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then your head turned slowly toward him.
ââŠWhat?â You asked softly. His eyes widened slightly, like heâd just realized heâd stepped directly into a trap of his own making.
âIâm so sorryâthatâs not what I meant, I justââ But the explanation died halfway out with a shuddering breath as he saw the way your eyes traced over him.
There was something in your gaze now that hadnât been there a second ago, something curious, and maybe hazardous.
âJust what, Yeun?â You said, the sound light, moving your thigh closer to his so your skirt hem brushed his leg, âYou think Iâd look good with chocolate all over my lips?â His breath hitched, pupils dilating as he glanced at your short skirt again, then up to your breasts straining against your top in the heat, âYou think you want to kiss it off my lips, hm?â
The dare hung in the air, your eyes locking on his, his grip on the steering wheel hardened. He swallowed hard, clearly imagining itâyour mouth on his skin, the absolute sweetness of youâhis sweet angel.Â
âLove, justââ He murmured, but your hand grazed his thigh and the tension snapped like a taut rope.
âYeunâŠâ You whispered, your hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle tense under your palm. âCan you lie back for me, please?â
It was safe to say you had zero idea what you were doingâhell the art of seduction just meant getting yourself lost in the haze of your own horniness. But the way Jaeyunâs breaths came a little too quick and the way his dick strained against his pants was driving you bat shit insane.
His eyes burned with desire, fixed on your breasts as they rose and fell with your breaths. He was obsessed with themâthe way they bounced slightly when you moved, the soft curves pressing against the fabric.
You climbed onto him without any hesitation, skirt riding up your thighs as you settled onto his lap, giving one experimental shift of your hips. Jaeyun groaned, shifting to recline the driver's seat fully, his back arching against the leather as his shirt pulled up, exposing his chiseled abs, each ridge etched deep.Â
You ran a tongue over your lips as you clicked open the cap of the bottle, drizzling it slooowlyy over his stomach, watching it pool in the valleys between his abs, trailing down toward his navel. The scent filled the airârich cocoa mixing with his musky sweat. Jaeyun hissed at the cool touch, his cock twitching visibly in his jeans.
âAngel... that's cold.â But his voice was thick with arousal, his veiny hands gripping the seat edges to steady himself.
Straddling his hips, your short skirt hiked up completely, exposing your panties to the air between you. You leaned down, breasts brushing his chest, and he groaned again, eyes glued to them, one hand reaching up to cup one through your top, thumb rubbing your hardening nipple.
âSo fucking perfect.â He muttered, squeezing gently, turned on beyond words by their fullness, the way they filled his palm, âHow did I get so lucky hm?â You moaned softly, the sound muffled as you lowered your mouth to his skin.
âLucky?â Your breath ghosted over his stomach, âStill haven't asked me to be yours, properly Jaeyun.âÂ
Your tongue flicked out, lapping at the chocolate sauce on his lower abs first, the flavor bursting sweet and bitter against the salt of his body. You licked in long strokes, tracing each defined muscle, sucking lightly to clean the sauce from the ridges.Â
Jaeyun's abs contracted under your mouth, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he fought to stay quietâthe truck's windows were up, but the open desert could carry sounds.Â
âShit, loveâŠ.feels so good.â He whispered hoarsely, his free hand tangling in your hair, guiding you without pushing.
You worked upward, swirling your tongue around, then flattening your tongue broad against his upper abs, licking firmly to savor every inch. The chocolate smeared slightly on your lips, but you didn't careâhis skin was hot, tasting of him beneath the sweetness, and you hummed in pleasure, the vibration making him buck his hips.
Your hand slid down, palming his clothed cock through his jeans. It was rock-hard, thick and straining, the outline clear as you rubbed along the length, squeezing the head. He throbbed under your touch, pre-cum likely soaking his boxers, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan, his veiny hand clamping over his mouth for a second.
âQuiet, Yeun.â You teased in a breathy whisper, your own arousal building as you ground your soaked panties against his thigh.Â
But you were struggling tooâthe wet sounds of your licking, the slick slide of your palm over his bulge, it all threatened to echo. You licked higher, cleaning the last traces from just below his chest, your breasts pressing fully against him now, nipples draaagging over his skin. He growled low, the hand on your breast kneading harder, pinching your nipple through the fabric until you gasped, your mouth pausing on his abs.
âCanât get enough of you, angel.â Jaeyun rasped as he watched you, his cock jerking under your stroking hand. You resumed licking, slower now, savoring the way his muscles jumped, the chocolate fully gone but your tongue reluctant to stop. Finally, you sat up, lips shiny, and met his gazeâdark, hungry, tension crackling between you like the desert heat. But instead of pulling away, you shifted forward, positioning your core directly over his abs.
The skirt bunched at your waist as you rocked against him, your panties drenched, clit throbbing as it rubbed over the hard ridges of his stomach.Â
âNeed you so bad Yeun.â You whimpered, hands on his chest for leverage, palming his cock again with one hand, the friction making him hiss. He nodded, abs flexing deliberately under you to increase the pressure, his veiny hands gripping your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh just below your skirt.Â
âFucking hell youâre so wet.â His voice came strained, âUse me aaall you want, my angel.â
You started slow, hips rolling in a steady grind, your pussy lips spreading over his skin through the thin barrier of your panties, the chocolate residue making everything slicker. Each forward sliiide dragged your clit along a peak of his abs, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.
You bit your lip hard to stay quiet, but soft whimpers escaped, your breasts bouncing with the motion, drawing his eyes like magnets. He was mesmerized, one hand sliding up to push your top higher, exposing them fullyâyour nipples peaked, begging for attention.Â
âGod, angel, look at youâŠ.âŠâ His cock pulsed under your palm as you stroked him faster, unzipping his jeans just enough to rub over the fabric of his boxers, feeling the heat and girth.
The pace quickened, your hips bucking now, riding his abs with desperate thrusts. The ridges provided perfect friction, hitting your clit repeatedly, your arousal soaking through your panties onto his skin, mixing with the faint chocolate stickiness.Â
âYeunâŠ.feels so good.â You gasped, voice a hushed plea, struggling not to cry out as the pressure built.Â
âPussyâs drippin all over me.â He thrust up subtly, abs clenching to grind back against you, his own breaths labored, grunts muffled behind clenched teeth, âMy angelâs going to make herself cum?â
Sweat beaded on his torso, making the slide even smoother, and you leaned forward, breasts dangling over his face. He captured a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, tongue lashing the sensitive bud while his hand palmed the other, rolling it between his fingers.
 The dual sensations overwhelmed youâhis mouth on your breast, the relentless rub of his abs against your core. You palmed his cock roughly now, fingers tracing the veins along the shaft through the cloth, squeezing the base as it leaked more pre-cum.
The truck filled with the hushed symphony of your bodiesâwet grinds, stifled moans, the creak of the seat under his shifting weight. Your thighs trembled, skirt flipped up completely, exposing everything as you rode him faster, clit swollen and pulsing.
âYeunâhahâgonna cum.â You whispered urgently, nails digging into his shoulders. He released your nipple with a pop, eyes locked on your bouncing breasts, then down to where your pussy dragged over his abs.Â
âGo on love. Soak me like a good girl.â His words pushed you over, and you shattered, pussy clenching on nothing as waves of pleasure crashed through you, juices flooding out to drench his stomach, your body shaking with the intensity.
You collapsed forward, panting against his neck, still palming his cock in lazy strokes as aftershocks rippled. He held you close, one veiny hand stroking your back, the other cupping your ass under the skirt.Â
âFucking hell.â He breathed, voice rough with his own unspent need, but content in the intimacy, âWhere the actual hell did you learn that sweetheart?â
âTold you I read a lot.â You kissed his jaw, âWanna head home?â
âWeâll be doing way more than that, love.âÂ
__________________
Sim Jaeyun was a fucking flirt.
Of course, you had expected it fully when he came into town looking like that. But ever since your three nights of constant lovemaking, you were sure he was only yours. But of course this bastard chatted up the women in town, his easy charm drawing them in like moths.Â
So what else was a girl supposed to do other than retaliate?
Your bakery buzzed with the usual morning rush, the scent of fresh pastries mingling with the dry desert air filtering through the open door.Â
You laughed a little too brightly at the compliments from a couple of regular customers who lingered at the counter, their eyes appreciative as they ordered their usuals. It was harmless flirting but you revelled in knowing it stung him; you saw the flicker in his expression, his veiny hands gripping his coffee tightly as he watched from the doorway.
You couldn't wait to get back home.
âNice show you were putting on, angel.â Jaeyun scooped you up with effortless strength, carrying you straight to the bedroom, the repaired bed waiting like an invitation.
âYou started it, Yeun.â His dark eyes bored into yours, as you bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeksâand lowerâas you met his gaze, âCanât blame a girl for trying can you?â
âOh trust me I can.â He laid you back, his abs brushing your stomach through his shirt, âLet me show you how, yeah?â You felt the familiar ache of desire twist within you, his breath hot as he rummaged in his pocket. He pulled out a small black box, flipping it open to reveal aâŠ.peculiar shaped silicone ring. âYou wanna know what this is, angel?â You nodded your head a meek no and he chuckled.
âFriend of mine back in the city gave it to me.â He slowly pulled away from you, opening the drawer next to the bed and pulling out your silk scarf, why ever did you tell him where you kept those things, âAnd weâre going to play a game with it.â
His thick cock strained against his pants as he blindfolded you with the soft scarf. The world went dark, heightening every sensationâthe rustle of clothes, the dip of the mattress as he stripped you both bare.
You settled back, heart pounding, the cool sheets contrasting the air on your naked skin. Jaeyun's hands traced your body reverently, starting at your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebbled hard.
âSo beautiful, angel.â His voice was thick with arousal, âIâm going to fuck you with my fingers and my cock, and youâre going to guess which is which.â His tone was playful yet commanding, making your pussy clench in anticipation, âReady to play, love?â
You meekly nodded again as he settled between your legs, the bed creaking under his weight. He slipped the ring onto his index finger, the vibrator hummed to life at a low setting, a deep buzz that vibrated through the air.
You gasped as he pressed the tip of his finger against your entrance, circling your clit teasingly before pushing inside. The vibrations pulsed against your inner walls, intense and unrelenting, stretching you just enough with the girth of his digit. He curled it, rubbing that spot deep within, the buzz amplifying every nerve.
âWhich one is it, love?â He asked, voice husky, his free hand palming your breast, pinching the nipple. You arched, blindfold somehow heightening the pleasure.
âF-Finger?â You whimpered, hips bucking instinctively. He chuckled, low and satisfied, thrusting his finger deeper, the ring's vibrations making your toes curl.
âGood girl.â He withdrew slowly, leaving you aching, then positioned himself. His cock, veiny and oh so much larger, nudged your folds, the head parting you before he sank in inch by inch.
The stretch was exquisite, his size splitting you open just like that first time, filling you completely. No vibrations yet, but the raw girth dragged along your walls, hitting every sensitive point, âWhich one, sweetheart?â
âCockâcock oh god Yeun!â You moaned loud, your hands fisting the sheets, âYeun youâre so big!â The words tumbled out, stroking his ego; you heard his sharp intake of breath, felt him throb inside you.Â
âFuck, angel, yeahâŠ..keepâahâkeep talking like that.â He rocked his hips slowly, a gentle fuck that built the tension, his abs flexing against your thighs, âDirty little angel.â
He pulled out almost fully, then switchedâplunging his finger into your soaked pussy. The buzz hit harder this time, higher setting, vibrating wildly as he pumped two fingers now, scissoring them to open you wider.Â
âGuess.â He demanded, leaning down to suck a mark on your neck, his cock sliding along your thigh. The dual penetration of his fingers plus the relentless thrum had you writhing, clit pulsing untouched.Â
âFingerâoh hahhhhâŠ.â You gasped. He hummed in approval, twisting his wrist to grind the vibrations against your g-spot, your juices coating his hand.
And then back to his cockâhe thrust in deep, bottoming out with a groan, your mind leaving you as you felt every ridge, every vein.
âFeel so full YeunâŠ.filling me up so goooodâŠâ You praised him breathlessly, blindfolded eyes imagining his smug grin, the way his muscles tensed.Â
He fucked you with measured strokes, slow and deep, pulling whimpers from your throat. The alternation continued, a torturous rhythm: finger with the ring buzzing furiously, curling and thrusting until your walls fluttered; then his cock, bare and powerful, pounding in with raw force that made the bedframe groan.
Each switch blurred the lines, your guesses growing desperateââCock! No, finger... oh fuck, Jaeyun!ââas pleasure layered upon itself. He amped the vibrator higher during finger turns, the buzz echoing through your core, while his cock thrusts grew harder, chasing your reactions.Â
The build was relentless, coiling tighter with every alternation. His fingerâbuzzing deep deep deep, stretching your pussy with twists that made stars burst behind the blindfold. His cockâplunging thick and unyielding, the head battering your cervix in the best way. '
âYeun, âm gonna cum!â You cried, legs wrapping around him. He growled, switching faster now, the game dissolving into pure sensation.Â
Finally, on a deep cock thrust, combined with his thumb on your clit, you shatteredâsquirting hard, fluid gushing around his shaft, soaking the sheets as your pussy clenched in waves of ecstasy.
âFuck, angel, that's itâŠ..squirt for me, pretty baby.â He praised, riding out your orgasm with shallow pumps before pulling out, breathing ragged.Â
You collapsed, trembling, the blindfold damp with sweat. He removed it gently, his dark eyes soft with affection amid the lust, kissing your forehead. âSo beautiful when you let go, angel.âÂ
You lay there, chest heaving, body still humming from the intensity of your release, the sheets beneath you damp and twisted. Jaeyun's warmth pressed against your side, his arm draped possessively over your waist as he nuzzled into your neck, planting soft kisses along your sweat-slicked skin.Â
The blindfold was now discarded on the nightstand, and the room felt charged with the afterglow, the air thick with the scent of your combined arousal.
âYeun?âÂ
âHmm?â
You turned your head to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and sated, locked onto yours, a small smile playing on his lips, âCan I ask you something?â He nodded and you took in a breath, âCan you teach me how to suck you off?â
And that was the day Sim Jaeyun lived his last.Â
You looked so fucking innocent like this, widened eyes asking him so sweetly such a devilish thing. And it was destroying all his remaining brain cells.
He paused, surprise flickering across his features before it melted into a heated grin, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. âYou sure, angel?â
âI want to.â You insisted, propping yourself up on one elbow, your free hand trailing down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, âWanna make you feel good.â
Jaeyunâs breath hitched at your touch, his cock already stirring to life against your thigh, half-hard from the remnants of your shared pleasure. He nodded, shifting to sit up against the headboard, legs spread wide to make room for you.
âCome here.â He said, voice low and encouraging, patting the space between his thighs. âWeâll go slow.â
You crawled forward on your knees, the mattress dipping under your weight, positioning yourself between his legs. His cock lay heavy against his stomach, thickening as you watched, the shaft veined and flushed, the head still glistening from your earlier release.Â
A bead of precum formed at the tip, and you felt a fresh wave of curiosity and desire pool in your core. Your hands rested on his thighs, fingers digging into the firm muscle as you leaned in closer, inhaling his musky scentâearthy and intoxicating.
âFirst, use your hands.â Jaeyun instructed gently, reaching down to guide one of yours to his base. His fingers wrapped around yours, showing you how to grip him loosely, stroking upward in a slow, firm pull that made him groan softly, âFeel how hard I am baby? That's exactly what you do to me, my sweet angel.âÂ
You mimicked the motion on your own, hand sliding along his length, marveling at the velvety smoothness over the rigid heat beneath. Precum smeared under your thumb as you circled the head, and Jaeyun's hips jerked slightly, his hand threading into your hair.
âGood girl.â He praised, voice roughening, âNow your mouthâjust lick first.â He instructed softly, his cock bobbing heavy before your face, pre-cum beading at the tip.
 You leaned in, tongue darting out to lap at the slit, salty and musky, making him hiss. Your lips parted to suckle the crown, tongue flicking the sensitive underside. He threaded fingers through your hair, not pushing yet, just encouraging.Â
âRelax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Yeah, just like that.â Inch by inch, you slid down, his thickness stretching your mouth, the veins pulsing against your tongue. His cock fully hardened now, standing proud and thick, curving toward your mouth like an invitation.
âOpen up, angel.â He murmured, guiding you with a gentle nudge. Your lips stretched around the bulbous head, the fullness pressing against your tongue as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked.Â
Jaeyun moaned, low and deep, his free hand gripping the sheets. âThat's it, angelâgod, your mouthâs fucking heaven. Bob your head a little for me, thaatâs it.â
You eased down further, inch by inch, your jaw relaxing as you accommodated his girth. Saliva pooled in your mouth, dribbling down his shaft as you sucked and licked, the wet sounds filling the room alongside his ragged breaths.Â
Your hand twisted at the base, following the rhythm of your mouth, while your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently as he'd shown you earlier in the heat of the moment.
âLook at me.â Jaeyun rasped, and you glanced up through your lashes, seeing the raw hunger in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell. It spurred you on, making you take him deeper, until the head bumped the back of your throat. You gagged but didn't pull back, breathing through your nose, tears pricking your eyes from the effort.
âEasy, sweetheart.â He soothed, thumb stroking your cheek. âGod, youâre aâah ahhâa fuckin natural.â
The praise sent a thrill through you, your pussy clenching emptily as you worked him, alternating between deep sucks and teasing licks along the frenulum. His hips began to rock subtly, fucking your mouth in shallow thrusts, but he kept control, letting you set the pace. Drool escaped the corners of your lips, slicking your chin and his balls, the messiness only heightening the intimacy.
âCan I... faster?â You pulled off briefly to ask, voice muffled and breathless, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.
âFuck yes.â He said, guiding your head back down, âGonna make me cum down your throat, love.â
You redoubled your efforts, bobbing quicker, hand flying along the slick length you couldn't reach. He pushed your head down, guiding you faster, cock sliding deeper into your throat with each thrust. You relaxed, letting him use your mouth, the wet glucks filling the room as he fucked your face. Tears pricked your eyes from the depth, but the thrill of pleasuring himâseeing his abs clench, hearing his moansâkept you going.Â
You felt him swell, the telltale pulse against your tongue, and hollowed deeper, urging him on with a hum that vibrated through him.
âTake it, babyâall of me.â He grunted, pace quickening. His veiny hand held you steady, pushing until your nose brushed his pelvis, then pulling back just enough for air before plunging again. You sucked harder, tongue working the underside, hand cupping his sack to massage.Â
You chose to stay, sealing your lips tight as he thrust once, twice, then erupted. Hot spurts of cum flooded your mouth, thick and bitter-salty, coating your tongue as you swallowed convulsively, some dribbling past your lips despite your efforts.
 Jaeyun's hand held you there gently through it, body shuddering, a guttural moan tearing from his throat, as he forced you to gulp it all down. Not that you were complaining though.
When he softened, you released him with a pop, licking your lips clean, a shy but satisfied smile breaking across your face as you looked up. Cum glistened on your chin, and he reached down to wipe it away with his thumb, pushing it back into your mouth for you to suck.
âDid I do good, Yeun?â You murmured. He kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue.Â
âPerfect.â He breathed, pulling you up into his lap for another kiss. You smiled against his lips as he pulled you into his warm arms, feeling sleep take over you.
Love is lust, as it always had been.
But maybe your Yeun could make both of them feel as sweet as cream.
fin.Â
Taglist: @bkatarina @raven-unkind @shawnyle @starry-eyed-bimbo @nichozzystuffs
divider by @bonnieknowsbest
MINIMUM BALANCE REQUIRED ⊠yjw
As if surviving on McDonaldâs and a moldy apartment near campus wasnât enough, your shady bank starts cursing you out for being broke. Oof⊠yeah, this is gonna be a long ride.
â nonidol!jungwon x y/n
â genre: smau , crack , romance if we squint , bad financial decisions , hey so I don't know how banks actually operate , shit and giggles
â đ§đšđđđŹ đđ§đ đČđđ©đŹ : wrote this instead of preparing for my sem 3 exam tomorrow đčđđ» this better not flop.
â CHAPTERS : (taglist closed!)
chapter 01 : pay up
chapter 02 : punami
chapter 03 : soda pop
chapter 04 : ngh
coming soon...

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Keep it a Secret (or try) | MASTERLIST
synopsis you kinda (literally) catch your brotherâs best friend touching himself and can't stop thinking about him after that. He doesn't make it any easier when he starts teasing you.
pairing: brother's bff!heeseung x reader
genre: smau (+ written). crack. brother's best friend.
featuring: rei, wonyoung, & liz (ive), enhypen, anton (riize), taesan & leehan (bnd), minju, yunah, & moka (illit).
contains: kys jokes; suggestive jokes; little age gap (19&22); profanity.
martina's yap: this is my first time posting in here, I've had so much fun reading SMAUs so I thought i'd try it since I kind of do them but in Wattpad (follow me by the way @ hyuckzcult)! I will try updating regularly and not leave you waiting lol but I can't promise anything!! Reblogs, comments, asks and even likes are deeply appreciated. Have fun reading!!
PROFILES just us girlies ; gay freaks
CHAPTERS
01. caught in 4k
02. bouta jump off a cliffâïžđ
03. "perfect" brother-in-law (not)
04. hey shawty
05. into the water you go - written
Also credits to @cafekitsune for their divider!
TAGLIST CLOSED áČïž”đŒ
Ë˰âą*ââ· REDBONE âž LHS
PAIRINGS:- leeheeseung x fem!reader, GENRE:- smau oneshot, strangers to lovers, crack, fluff, college au, SLIDE COUNT:- 25 (these long ass smaus will not stop)
( âïž ) -> STARRING heeseung as the tired economics major, who is convinced he's going insane, and STARRING y/n as someone who strongly believes in using free will for entertainment purposes, decides to make that his problem.
sorennotes:- a little random smau oneshot to keep ygs distracted with how ive not been posting đ€đ€đ€ but truthfully I really loved how this one came out andd im making a smau series for him as well called, âwhat happens in vegasâ !! ( coming soon ) enjoy reading and send your thoughts ê(Ë”Ë á ËË”)
I hope this doesnt flop I loved this smau sm ))))): I hope yall liked it and pls send your thoughts in my comments/inbox/messages anywhere !! ê(Ë”Ë á ËË”) ilygs and thank you for reading <333
*ââ·perm taglist! comment to be added or removed đŐ. .Ő𩯠(if i missed anyone im so sorry) @sweethoons @gyuzies @lassiie @enhypens-hoe @lowkhyeon @bananabread785 @heekiaras @midniightfiction @kristynaaah @effiemjch @ijustwannareadstuff20 @miajojojo @mjllies @rikisonline @tsukheeshima @drkbl00d @wobblymug @tearsforyrsins @wichujunseo @teacuplps @miellette
HOW SWEET
don't you know how sweet it tastes, now that I'm without you?
pairing soccerplayer!sunghoon x sororitysister!yn
synopsis When your sorority president volunteered the house to work with the soccer team for fundraising, you didnât know how you were supposed to react. Not when your assigned partner turned out to be Park Sunghoon, the vice-captain and your worst enemy since grade school.
featuring chaewon (LESSERAFIM), sophia (KATSEYE), yunah (ILLIT), ENHYPENâs hyung line, and MORE! â xinyu (TRIPLES) as your faceclaim
content warning kys jokes, sexual innuendos, drinking, swearing, yn is stubborn, sunghoon is rizzful, sunghoon and Haruna (BILLLIE) are dating and shes rly bitchy :/
note NO HATE TO ANY IDOLS INVOLVEDDD its just a story guys and i dont wanna hear serious hate about the idols only their characters in this story AT MOST!!!!
profiles
AOII GIRLS KUS SOCCER SQUAD
chapters
(OO1) â so so sexy
(OO2) â jakes horrible flirting skills
(OO3) â to my reputation
(OO4) â On my way!
(OO5) â hes a man
(OO6) â pairings
(OO7) â woman UP
(OO8) â im not his friend
(OO9) â bikini carwash
(O1O) â traumatized
(O11) â swan
(O12) â woah vicky on baddies
(O13) â Hoppy Hopscotch and Catnap
(O14) â fishy bananas
taglist. CLOSED
đ·ïž @ewstain @clearlyhoonie @iiunique @idonthatefruits @miajojojo @12e45 @velvetkisscs @dazqa @areikii @hayeonsonlyfan @miffikeuu @kitteaasstuff @lotsafim @enhypenlvrsstuff @sasu-aki @halfwayhearted @jvngw0nlvr @tinyhrry @ni-k1ttie @mystgene @s4eungie @bunnyhoon @zoe1love @hoszhe @cokewithcameron @jellykitti @wobblymug @jenniferrvsesi @snooki-doodle @kenzo3tenzo @viatopia @tessa365 @angeliykyk @nctspersonaltherapist @gothhyucks @minjsui @chaconnebliss @heelovesmeknot @tzupolo @purplehairedbaddie @wonderlandxriki @angelhyuka @kangseulgithegreat @hhoneyhan @arischacco @nataliasdiary @yuyita-rosier @gyucnt @astronomicalastro-blog1 @arminswife12 @chyssly @ziziforsan
a girls amateur guide to chemistry
â§âË à±šà§ -- park sunghoon x fem!reader
synopsis: It was supposed to be a joke. a simple experiment after one too many 'but what if we could' questions. but now the college golden boy is convinced he's in love with you, and you have to figure out a way to remind him he's not. unless, of course, the experiment isn't the reason he can't seem to leave you alone.
wc: 22.1k
warnings: romcom, fluff, humor, hockey captain!sunghoon, a lot of chemistry nonsense that is not realistic or accurate, slow-burn (i did not mean for that to happen but it did so sorry), love potion (?), severe yearning, reader is a bit oblivious, reader is a woman in stem, reader AND sunghoon are down baddd, one scene inspired by âbetter then the moviesâ // p in v, fingering, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, soft dom!sunghoon, super sweet and giggly sex (theyâre in love your honor), praise kink
ab thinks... i rewatched descendants and this came to me...so thank ben's rendition of "ridiculous" for this LOL. also the chemistry plot kind of got away from me towards the end but i promise the concept is there! this fic meant so much to me to write. it's one of the longest I've ever wrote, and i seriously think that despite how much i complained about writing this, it helped me fall back in love with writing. special thanks to @arischacco @ickbite @ewstain @heedimples and @clearlyhoonie for listening to me complain while also supporting all my ideas. ily guys ok?
the playlist: "black magic" - little mix / "if only" - dove cameron / "slut" - taylor swift / "supernatural" - ariana grande / "ready to love" - seventeen / âtoo closeâ - enhypen
Itâd sounded like a good idea at the time.
But now, as you watch Park Sunghoonâcampus golden boy and the boy youâve been (secretly) in love with for three yearsâliterally drink your experiment, youâre starting to think you might have messed up somewhere.
Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
âOkay, but, like, what are the odds a person could make a real life potion? Or something like it?â Jungwon asks, eyes racing back and forth on the screen as Harry Potter brings back Cedric's dead body.
Yunjin shoots him a glare, her eyes brimming with tears. âAre you seriously asking that right now? Cedric just died!â
He blinks, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Weâve seen this movie, like, a hundred times.â
âThat doesnât make it any less sad!â She scoffs, reaching for the throw pillow behind her head and tossing it at him.
It hits him square in the chest, but he barely reacts. Just lets it fall into his lap like it'd always been there. âIâm being serious, though!â
Beomgyu hums, popping another pretzel in his mouth. âIâm pretty sure youâre just thinking of chemistry.âÂ
Jungwon rolls his eyes, shifting in his seat so he can better face the three of you. âI mean like an actual potion. Like ones that make you fall in love or something dumb like that.â
You finally decide to speak up, tucking your feet under yourself and pulling your gaze away from the glowing screen. âYou want to know if itâs possible to make a love potion?â You ask, voice laced with disbelief.
But Jungwon doesnât laugh. If anything, he just looks ten times more serious. âExactly.â
The three of you go silent, glancing between eachother like Jungwon might reveal heâs joking and he knows something like that isnât possible.Â
Right?
See, there's a lot of issues with being a Biochemistry major. Some of the more obvious being that youâre a woman in a male-dominated fieldâwhich is a problem in and of itselfâand the other being that itâs extremely difficult.
But the one people donât talk about is your extreme crave for knowledge. Even if that knowledge has to do with finding out whether or not itâs possible to make a fucking love potion.
And you should shoot the idea down as soon as it comes to your head, really, you should. But thereâs that little flicker in the back of your mind, the one that usually gets you into trouble, that has you saying: âIt wouldnât hurt to try, right?â
(Newsflash: it really, really would.)
Three weeks. Thatâs how long it takes the four of you to work out numerous formulas, some which nearly exploded in your face, others that did nothing at all. It wasnât until you suggested using a bit less magnesium does the whole thing seem to be less far-fetched.
Despite her initial scepticism, Yunjin was insistent on finishing it as soon as possible so that she could make Jayâher second situationship of the monthârealize he was in love with her and finally ask her on a proper date. You couldnât help but feel like maybe that was a little unethical.
Besides, youâd already agreed you werenât actually going to use the substance on real people. Youâd test it on rats, see if it worked, and then go to sleep feeling completely and utterly satisfied.
That was the plan, anyway.
You crossed your legs, pencil tapping against your chin as you read over the equations in your notebook. The experiment was nearly completedâbut you just couldnât figure out how to make sure its effects wore off. Beomgyu had suggested maybe substituting the sodium for something else, but you just werenât sure what.
Jungwon groans next to you, letting his forehead rest against the desk. âRemind me again why electives insist on giving more work than necessary? Like, why do I have to write a 15,000 word essay on the history of the internet?â
You snort, shaking your head slightly as the eraser of your pencil rubs furiously against your paper. âRemind me again why you chose to take a class on the internet?â
He lifts his head up, glaring at you the entire time. âI wasnât aware the curriculum included 15 page long think pieces on the significance of Damn Daniel.â
You really laugh at that, lips curling up in a cheeky smile.Â
You and Jungwon usually had nightly study sessions at the campus library. It was a good way to unwind while also getting some work done. Well, more like you were getting work done and he was decoding Vineâs cultural significance.Â
Itâs hard for you to focus though.
Park Sunghoon is considerably the most beautiful man youâve ever had the pleasure of seeing, with raven hair and a smile that stops girls in their tracks, he has officially claimed the title of Campus Golden Boy and local heartthrob.
So how can you be expected to focus when heâs sitting in front of you, looking like that?Â
Heâs wearing glasses, something you werenât even aware he needed, slightly hunched over his glowing computer screen with an adorable knit in his brow. The sight should be illegal, honestly.Â
You donât even notice youâre staring until Jungwon nudges your foot with his, a knowing smirk on his face. âIf you keep staring at him like that he might think thereâs something wrong with you.â
You immediately flush, forcing your gaze back onto your notebook and trying to ignore the fact that your ears have begun to burn something mean.
âI hate you.â You mumble, fully expecting Jungwon to reply with something witty, but it never comes. Instead, when you lift your gaze up, Sunghoon has left his table and begun to make a beeline for you.
Your eyes widen, throat already closing up and panic swelling deep in your chest. Youâd definitely been caught and now he was going to confront you about your stalker-like behavior. You briefly wonder how long it takes for the police to arrive when theyâre called, because he was definitely coming over to inform you that heâd done just that.
âStop looking like your five seconds away from combusting.â Jungwon whispers, tone strangely serious.
You do your best to straighten your posture and make it look like there werenât three-week-old eye bags under your eyes or a mysterious stain on your sweats, but itâs all futile when he flashes you that smile. The one he gave everyone when he was being friendly, something youâd been on the receiving end of before. But, for some reason, this time it feels different.
This time it feels like the start of something new.
He stops at the other end of your table, hand shooting up in a brief wave. âHi,â He breathes out, âWe have chemistry together.â
You blink. Once. Twice. Jungwon kicks your shin and you remember that you should probably reply. âUhâYeah!â Your voice cracks, tone pitching up higher than you meant it too. You clear your throat with a slight wince, doing your best to give him a smile. âYes. Yeah. We do.â
He chuckles, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. And, wow, maybe Jungwon was rightâyou really are about to explode.
âI was having trouble with this last assignment,â He sighs, clearly exasperated, pointing a thumb back at his computer. âWhat are the chances you might be able to help me?â
Okay. This is fine. Amazing, actually. Youâd finished that assignment the other night and you understood it pretty well, so helping him should be a piece of cake.
At least it would be if you didnât seem to forget everything in his presence. Because you can definitely smell a bit of his cologne right now, sharp and clean, and you think youâre going to die. Yep. Youâre going to pass away from cologne.
âYes,â Jungwon answers for you, already ushering you out of your chair. âShe can help you. Trust me, sheâs crazy smart.â
Your eyes widen, staring at your friend in horror as he practically pushes you out of your chair and closer to Sunghoon.
âI know.â Sunghoon replies easily, tone light. Two words, but theyâre enough to nearly send you melting into the floor.
You do your best to stay composed as Sunghoon leads you back to his table, but you arenât entirely sure youâre even going to be able to think next to him. Which is definitely a little pathetic when you think about it, but seriously, look at the man. You are not ashamed in the least.
Jungwon shoots you two thumbs up, dimples showing as he smiles like heâs just won the fucking lottery. You donât return the sentiment, instead shooting him a harsh glare.Â
Sunghoon pulls out the chair next to his computer for you, and you sit down shakily. Your nerves feel completely shot, face on fire and your palms becoming uncomfortably moist.
He gestures to the problem on his screen, murmuring something about how heâd been stuck on it for the last hour.
You nod along, chewing on your bottom lip. The equation he was stuck on was thankfully something you knew how to do, so after taking a breath and reminding yourself that he is simply a boy and you are a very smart woman, you manage to explain it to him.
âYou put a negative there, but the equations actually positive,â You explain, voice still shaking the tiniest bit, but stronger than it was earlier as you gain back some confidence. âYou also wrote the wrong unit over here.â
Sunghoon listens as you explain everything to him, your hands gesturing wildly and words going a mile-a-minute. Itâs obvious to anyone watching you that youâre passionate about the subject.
By the time you finish, heâs already fixing his mistakes and taking the steps needed to get the right answer.
He shifts closer to you, finger dragging over the paper with a light touch, âIs this right?â He asks, voice barely above a whisper. He says it loud enough that only you hear, eyes flickering over the side of your face.
You feel that familiar flush building when his knee brushes yours under the table, but do your best to swallow it down. âUh, yeah. All you have to do now is figure out the correct configuration, which youâre pretty close to doing, and youâll be good to go.â
He hums, leaning back in his seat and flexing his palms. âHow are you so good at this stuff?â He asks with a laugh, eyes raking over yours like heâs trying to fully understand you.
You swallow, playing with your fingers in your lap. âItâs just always interested me, I guess. Like, the fact that we breathe in air and breathe out carbon? And the earth needs carbon to survive, so really weâre helping power the world. Itâs all just so fascinating to me!â Youâre smiling now, talking animatedly, âItâs difficult, yeah, but itâs also rewarding. Like, watching your experiment work is such a rush and Iââ
You cut yourself off, realizing youâre rambling about fucking chemistry like youâre in love with it. He must seriously regret even asking.
âSorry,â You mumble, nervous laughter bubbling out of you like a defense mechanism.
He shifts, leaning forward onto the table now, face turned so heâs still looking at you. âDonât be sorry,â He reassures, eyebrows lifting slightly. âI was listening.â
Okay, wow. You are seriously either about to throw up and die orâŠyeah thatâs it. There arenât any other options.
By the time you make your way back to your table youâre practically shaking, breaths coming in shallow and rushed, your entire body on fire. You feel like youâre in some weird kind of fight or flight.
Jungwons bouncing in his seat, bottom lip sucked into his teeth. He practically pulls you down next to him, beginning to ask you a million questions, but you canât see him.
All you can focus on is the subtle glance Sunghoon gives you when he leaves.
You shouldâve known something was going to go wrong the moment Beomgyu called you.Â
âI swear Iâve almost figured it out,â He sighs into the phone. You canât see him, but you can tell his nose is scrunched up the way it always is when heâs thinking too hard about something. âI think we got the units wrong, but if we can figure out the correct ones it should work.â
You kiss your teeth, bumping your silverware drawer with your hip and letting it slide shut. Your phone rests snugly between your shoulder and ear, your head tilted uncomfortably to accommodate it. âAre you in the lab right now?â You ask.
Beomgyu hums, âJungwon and Yunjin are here too, but I donât really know why considering neither of them are doing anything to help.â He says sharply, and you can hear the subtle cries of retaliation from your two friends in the background.
You snort, rolling your eyes slightly. âOkay, well,â You sit on your couch, attempting to get comfortable and placing your plate of food in your lap. âIâm gonna eat this and then Iâll be over, okay? Try not to blow anything up before I get there.â
âNo promises.â He groans, tone laced with annoyance, but you know itâs all out of love.
You get there twenty minutes later, hair thrown up and sweats hanging off your body. Very professional, you know.
When you push the metal doors open the first sight that greets you is one youâre quite familiar with. Jungwon and Yunjin fighting with each other over something stupid, and Beomgyu ignoring them like they're his children. Nothing says friendship quite like that.
Yunjin immediately shoots up when you enter, her eyes narrowed with anger. âCan you please tell him that Jay is in love with me before I kill him?â
Jungwonâs quick to follow her, knocking his shoulder with hers so that his frame blocks her from your view. âCan you please tell her sheâs known him for a week?"
You roll your eyes and scoot past them, making your way over to Beomgyu. Heâs diligently writing down formulas; bottom lip sucked between his teeth. He's giving off a mad scientist vibe right now. Or maybe just a stressed-out university student vibe. Both are interchangeable.
You nudge his shoulder to get his attention, but he barely even glances at you. Just continues mumbling out questions like he's expecting the universe to answer him.
âWhat can I help with?â You ask, throwing on your lab coat and snapping on a pair of medical gloves.
He groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He gestures lazily to the counter top, where a small gatorade bottle is sitting where the glass test tubes usually do. âThose two idiots broke the glass tubes I was holding the liquid in so now I have to use this janky bottle,â He mutters, throwing a glare at Yunjin and Jungwon.
Your experiment was currently sitting in a Blue Crush Gatorade bottle, floating around the bottom unsuspectingly. You snort at the sight, rolling your eyes slightly. âI think they have some extra next door,â You sigh, turning on your heel to go grab them.
But before you can even think about pushing the door open, Sunghoon reveals himself on the other side.
Heâs still in his hockey uniform, helmet hanging from his hand and cheeks flushed a lively pink. You both stand there for a moment, blinking like youâre waiting for each other to make the first move. Jungwon and Yunjin even stop bickering, the both of them staring at you with wide eyes and cunning smiles.
Sunghoon clears his throat, gripping his helmet just the tiniest bit tighter. âSorry for bothering you,â He murmurs, âI, uh, forgot something in here. Just stopping by to grab it.â
Youâre silent for a moment too long, trying to string together a sentence without sounding itâs your first day on earth. It turns out, itâs a bit difficult to do that when Sunghoon is staring at you like that.
Like heâs trying just as hard as you are to not burst at the seams.Â
âCan I scoot past?â he asks, tone small and light, a shy smile playing on his lips.
You swallow, managing a small nod and moving to the side weakly. His fingers brush yours when he scoots past, sending a cool shiver down your spine, one that shouldnât feel as electric as it does.
He waves at Jungwon and Yunjin, who both give him polite smiles, but you can see the way their eyes shine at him. Like they know something he doesnâtâwhich they doâbut still.
Yunjin hurries over to your side as soon as his back is to you, giving you the brightest smile you think youâve ever seen. She grabs your bicep with her manicured hand, squeezing it so tightly you have half the mind to think itâll bruise.
âOh my God,â She whispers, eyes flickering between you and Sunghoon, whose eyebrows seem to be narrowed in confusion as he looks for whatever it is he left. âDid you see the way he looked at you?â
You immediately flush, smacking her lightly on the shoulder. âShut up.â You grumble.
âIâm being serious!â She defends, wiggling her eyebrows. âEven I got butterflies.â
You run a hand over your face, head shaking slightly. âYunjin, seriously, stop talking.â
She laughs, but you canât find it in yourself to laugh with her. Even if Sunghoon was looking at you a certain way, it didnât mean anything. Not when Sophia was still around.
Sophia was the complete opposite of Sunghoon. A rude party girl who assumed the world revolved around her and her perfectly blown-out hair. And somehow, someway, sheâd gotten the dark-haired man wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.
Their relationship was constantly off and on, mostly because Sophia could never seem to make up her mind on what man she was interested in that week. And Sunghoon, poor, beautiful Sunghoon, always went back to her. Sometimes you wondered if she had some kind of blackmail on him. Or maybe he was just a secret masochist. Both answers were equally concerning.
They seemed to be on one of their breaks right now, but everyone knows it's only a matter of time before she's showing up at his games again. You hate that the thought of it fills your chest with green smoke.
You turn around on your heel to continue your walk to the classroom next door, but the sound of Beomgyu shrieking stops you.
You whip around, half expecting something to have exploded, but instead the sight youâre met with is worlds more alarming.Â
Sunghoon, the campus golden boy and secret love of your life, is drinking your experiment. Literally. Lid to mouth, chugging it like it's water.
Beomgyu rips it from him, but itâs too late. Almost all of the liquid, aside from a few measly drops in the bottom, is gone.
The four of you freeze, watching Sunghoon like heâs grown three heads. But the boy in question just blinks at you with confusion. His tongue flicks out to lick a drop off his bottom lip, eyes flickering between the three of you. âWhat?
Beomgyu takes a cautious step towards him, arm held out like heâs worried Sunghoon might go rabid and lunge at him. âDo you feel anythingâŠstrange?â
Sunghoon swallows awkwardly, lips curving into a concerned smile. âUm,â he murmurs, letting out a nervous laugh. âShould I?â
You share a glance with Jungwon, who just shrugs his shoulders. The four of you are in different stages of shock, because why would somebody drink a mysterious liquid in a lab? What is the thought process behind that?
Yunjin looks like she's holding back a laugh, which isn't that shocking since she always laughs at the most inappropriate times. Meanwhile Jungwon looks nearly amused, like he'd known this would happen, and Beomgyu just looks pissed.
âSunghoon,â Jungwon murmurs, circling the ravenette like heâs studying him, a hand on his chin. âWhy did you drink out of that bottle?â
Sunghoon watches him, head twisting around his shoulder every time Jungwon makes his way out of his line of sight. âBecause itâs mine? I left it here last night.â He answers casually.
Your eyes snap to Beomgyu, watching as his eyes trail down to the bottle in his hand.Â
âYou guys alright?â Sunghoon asks, tone laced with suspicion. Not that you can really blame him.
Yunjinâs the first to answer, a honey-sweet smile on her face. âOh, yeah, weâre good! JustâŠdeadlines. You know how people get.âÂ
Sunghoon nods, eyebrows knit together. âRight,â He mumbles, pursing his lips slightly. His eyes flicker between all of you once more, like if he stares at you long enough one of you might break.Â
When his eyes land on you, he pauses. Itâs just a moment, something you wouldnât have caught if you werenât paying attention, but something you arenât quite sure how to place flashes in his gaze. Something far too real and confusing.
âI should, uh,â He swallows, gesturing lazily towards the door. âI should go.â
You nod, lips parted slightly as he slips past you.Â
Beomgyu clearly wants to stop him and ask more questions, maybe try and keep him for observation, but you shoot him a look that tells him to let it go. Your experiment being gone sucks, yes, but if he seems fine then there isnât any reason to scare him. And if he isnât fine later then you can deal with it then.
Sunghoon glances back at you before he leaves, lips parting like he wants to say something more, but he decides against it. Instead, he pushes the door open and steps back outside, leaving the four of you to try and come to terms with what happened.
Theres a pregnant pause, mostly because you think nobody really knows how to approach the situation. How do you move on with your day after your personal campus celebrity drank your fucking experiment? It's seriously a valid question.
Yunjin clears her throat, arms crossing over her chest. âSo... does this mean I canât use it on Joshua?" She asks, expression completley serious.
Beomgyu lets out a large sigh, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose like it might ground him. âYunjin,â He murmurs, âShut up.â
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "It was a genuine question."
Your lips tighten, hand reaching out to give her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "You weren't going to be able to use it on him anyway."
"You don't know that!"
You canât help but feel on edge when you walk into your Chemistry lecture the next day, hands gripping your computer tighter than necessary.
Would Sunghoon be here? Would he be okay? Did he die sometime in the night and the campus just wasnât aware? What if the police were waiting for you so they could question you?
What would you even say? Well, you see officer, he kind of drank my experiment. So sorry it killed him! Yeah, no. That wasnât gonna work.
To your relief, there arenât any police officers waiting for you in the lecture hall, and Sunghoon seems to be perfectly fine.
Except, heâs sitting in Yunjinâs usual seat right next to yours.
You immediately pause, heart dropping to your stomach. This has never happened, ever, and you already know it must mean bad news.
Heâs writing something in his notebook casually, hair curling over his forehead in a way that makes him look hand-sculpted by the Gods themselves. Your mouth goes dry, eyes flickering across the room until they land on a sly looking Yunjin. She curls her fingers at you in a sultry wave, like she knows exactly what sheâs doneâwhich youâre sure she does.
And, conveniently, every other seat in the room is full. Which means you have no other choice than to sit by Sunghoon.
Which is perfectly fine. Yep. Itâs fine.
You force yourself to make your way to your seat, feet dragging the entire way, head hanging so that your hair covers your face. Is it a little pathetic? Yeah, definitely. But youâre way past caring.
You try to sit down as incredulously as possible, making sure your body is conveniently facing away from him. And for the first few minutes it works! Sunghoon doesnât glance at you when you open your computer and pull up the assignment, doesnât even blink when you sneeze right next to his ear.
And when you think youâre finally in the safeâfinally feel like you can let yourself relaxâit happens.
Sunghoon turns to you, his cheeks flushed a strange shade of pink, eyes strangely bright and pupils blown, and says in a scarily serious tone, âHow are you, beautiful?â
You donât even register it at first. It feels so absurd, so out of reach that he could even be thinking about saying that to you, that you completely ignore him. You assume he must be on the phone with Sophia, because there is absolutely no way Park Sunghoon just called you beautiful. It just wasnât possible.
But then his foot finds yours under the table, and he starts trying to play fucking footsie with you. You freeze momentarily, brain trying itâs very hardest to catch up with whatever the hell it is thatâs going on right now.
You swallow, finally forcing yourself to look at him. For a moment you really wish you hadnât, because heâs got this cheeky smile going on, like heâs content just being in your presence.
You clear your throat, looking around once more for confirmation that he isnât talking to anyone else. Your pointer finger comes up to point at yourself hesitantly, voice coming out in a small whisper when you say, âAre you talking to me?â
His foot stops nudging against yours now that youâve finally answered him, and his smile widens. âWho else would I be calling beautiful?â
You nearly choke on your own spit, hand flying up to your mouth as you fall into a coughing fit. Sunghoons hand comes up to rub soothingly on your back like heâs done it a million times.
âWhat are you talking about?â You manage between coughs, eyes wide like youâve just seen a bomb go off.Â
Well, this certainly feels like one has.
Your mind can't even make sense of what he's saying. It almost feels like he's speaking another language and you're using google translate to try and communicate with him.
Sunghoon laughs, head shaking as his hand travels up to ruffle your hair. âYouâre so funny sometimes, really. Did you know that? Honestly, Iâve always thought you were the funniest girl Iâd ever met. And the prettiest.â His eyelashes flutter, leaning his cheek onto his hand like heâs got some type of school-girl crush. âI want the whole world to know just how perfect you are.â
Youâre too shocked to even respond, lips opening and closing while you rack your brain for anything to say. This is so out of character for Sunghoon. Not just because his admiration is aimed at you, but because youâve gone to university with him long enough to know he doesnât act like this.
And then it hits you.
The fucking experiment.
You are so screwed.
You clear your throat, glancing around warily. Your professor started lecturing a few minutes ago, but you were so busy with Sunghoon you had no idea what it was he was even talking about.
You suck in a shaky breath, âOkay, listen, I know youâre probably confused right now." You attempt, voice quiet as to not draw any attention to whatâs going on. âBut you drank something you shouldnât have yesterday, which isnât your fault! Me and Beomgyu just have to figure out how to reverse its effects! Unless, of course, it wears off by itself. That would definitely be ideal.â You mumble the last part, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth just like it always does when youâre thinking too hard.
Sunghoon watches you with a dopey smile on his face, clearly not caring about anything that youâre saying. The sight makes your heart stutter, which you know shouldnât happen. Personal feelings about Sunghoon aside, he doesnât actually feel anything for you. He just thinks he does.
âYouâre so cute when youâre focused.â He murmurs, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
Your breath catches when the tips of his fingers brush against your cheek, the touch soft and intentional. He's gazing at you with so much love, so much genuine feeling, it breaks your heart the tiniest bit.
And you wonder for the briefest moment what would happen if you let yourself indulge in this. Even if just for a day. Would it be so bad?
He pulls away from you slowly, the tips of his ears pink and his lips curled into a shy smile. âYouâre beautiful,â he murmurs again.
You sigh, letting your head fall into your hands. âSunghoonââ
He stands from his seat abruptly, his chair scratching against the floor obnoxiously. You wince, head whipping up to figure out what the hell it is heâs doing.
âEveryone!â He announces, voice booming through the lecture hall. You immediately scramble to stop him, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to try and pull him back down. He just ignores you, instead choosing to continue to address the whole class like heâs giving some big speech.
âIâm in loveâ!â
Yeah, no.
You practically wrestle him into his chair, pulling on his arm so hard he nearly collapses into your lap. You push him into his chair, a shaky smile on your face.
The class stares at you with unamused frowns, all clearly annoyed at having the lecture interrupted by Sunghoons near-declaration.
You clear your throat, hands waving in front of you. âHeâs just not feeling well,â You attempt nervously, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your lips like it might save you from embarrassment. It doesnât.
Your professor fixes you with a stern look, one that youâd never been on the receiving end of until this moment. Now, youâre starting to understand why people say sheâs so icy.
You murmur out apologies to the room, hoping to ease at least some ofthe growing tension between you and your peers. Yunjins looking at you with genuine shock, her hand covering her mouth like sheâs hoping to spare you any kind of embarrassment. It doesnât work.
You turn your attention back to Sunghoon, whoâs giggling in his chair like heâd just witnessed the funniest thing ever.
âWhat is wrong with you?â You hiss, beginning to pack your stuff as well as his. Youâd thought youâd wait until class was over to go find Beomgyu, but after that stunt youâre starting to think your social life might go down if you donât figureout how to fix this ASAP.
Sunghoon shrugs, fingertips tapping against his thigh. âIs it a crime to tell people about the girl I love?â
You tense for a moment, but donât stop gathering the rest of your things. âYou donât love me.â You manage out, voice cracking slightly. âYouâre just confused.â
Sunghoon grabs your wrist and stops you from closing his notebook, his thumb hovering over your pulse point. âIâm not confused.â He insists, and, God, for a second you almost believe him. Itâd definitely be easier to.
But you know he doesnât know what heâs saying. Heâs confusing his emotions for you with something elseâsomething that isnât there.
Something that will never be there.
You pull your wrist out of his grip, a sad smile on your face. âCâmon,â You manage, throwing your bag over your shoulder. âLet's go talk to Beomgyu.â
The walk to Beomgyuâs apartment is filled with endless yapping from Sunghoon and mostly silence from you. You arenât sure how you should reply to his advances considering he doesnât actually know what heâs saying. You keep telling yourself to imagine heâs on some weird drug that makes him more open than normal. And ten times more flirty.
Beomgyus apartment is just on the cusp of campus, close enough that it wasnât a long walk, but far enough to get some sense of individualism. Youâd been there a thousand times, whether it was for a casual hangout or to catch up on homework, but never in a million years did you imagine youâd be knocking on the door with Park Sunghoon staring at you like youâd hung the moon and the stars.
âStop,â You mumble, fist rapping onto the door again. You know Beomgyuâs home right now.
Sunghoon raises a brow, arms crossed as he leans against the wall next to you. âStop what?â He asks, maintaining his false facade of innocence.
You shoot him a glare, hands gesturing at him wildly. âStop looking at me like that!â
He just hums, like heâs amused at your reaction. And you know none of this is technically his faultâwell, it is but it isnâtâbut thereâs a growing annoyance in your chest that you canât seem to get rid of. If you were going to be subjected to another public embarrassment like what heâd pulled in your lecture you think youâll die.
You huff, fist tapping against the door again. âI know youâre in there, Beomgyu! Stop trying to pretend you arenât there so Iâll leave!â
Thereâs a momentary silence, and then the door clicks open and an unamused Beomgyu stares at you from the other side. Heâs wearing a white stained shirt, hair sticking up in numerous places.Â
Heâs a sight for sore eyes, honestly.
âWhat?â He sighs, staring at you like youâve interrupted his very busy schedule.
You point over at Sunghoon with your thumb, âWeâve got a massive issue.â
Beomgyuâs eyes trail towards where youâre pointing lazily, like youâre somehow inconveniencing him. He looks Sunghoon up and down, lips twisting into a frown. âI donât see the problem.â He mumbles.
You sigh, running a hand over your face and letting it slap back down to your thigh. âIt worked.âÂ
Beomgyu raises a brow. âWhat worked?â
You groan, âThe experiment worked.â You hiss, nodding towards Sunghoon slightly. âAnd now heâs convinced heâs in love with me.â
Beomgyu blinks, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes what you said. Heâs been your closest friend for long enough to know that under different circumstances, Sunghoon confessing his love to you wouldâve had you over the moon. He knows you wouldâve had a much different reaction to the one youâre giving now, at least.
He licks his lips, glancing around the hallway like heâs expecting someone to jump out at you, and then ushers the both of you into your apartment. Sunghoon tries to grab your hand when you go inside, but you pull away and shoot him a sharp glare. He just smiles back, like your annoyance is the most amusing thing in the world to him.
Beomgyu gestures to the couch, mumbling out a hasty sit before disappearing into his room. You sigh when you plop down onto it, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursued.Â
You know itâs not Sunghoons fault. This whole thing was a complete accident. ButâŠsome part of you couldnât help but feel like this entire thing was only going to end one wayâwith you getting hurt. Sunghoon doesnât love you like he seems to think. The issue is, you arenât sure just how long youâll be able to resist him before you finally start believing him.
Thatâs why you need to figure out how to reverse this before it gets to that point.
And what about the effects it must be having on Sunghoon? Sure, you were taking emotional hits, but what if you had accidentally seriously messed him up mentally or physically? What if he never recovered and then youâd have to live with the fact that youâd indirectly messed him up for life?
Sunghoon sits down next to you wordlessly, hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes trail over the living room, eyes pausing on a framed picture of you and Beomgyu from highschool. In it, the both of you are laughing at something on the other side of the camera, your hands clenching your stomachs and wide smiles on your faces. You donât remember what exactly had been so funny at the time, but your heart still melts all the same every time you look at it.
Sunghoon hums, nodding towards the picture. âYou look happy.â
Even though you donât mean to, and there's definitely no reason to do so right now, you crack a small smile. âYeah,â You mumble, âThat was a good day.â
The space between you isnât uncomfortable, it never really has been despite everything, but itâs tense. Like thereâs some sort of gravitational force pushing you towards him, and the harder you resist, the more it wants to persist.Â
Sunghoon must feel it to, because his tongue darts out to wet his lips, his adams apple bobbing slightly. For the first time since this entire fiasco started, he looks almost unsure, like thereâs something he wants to do or say, but he canât.
You frown, hand instinctively coming up to rest on his bicep, âSunghoon,â You murmur, eyebrows furrowing in concern. âAre you alrightââ
âOkay, here's the plan,â Beomgyu interrupts, finally emerging from his room. He looks much more put together now and not like heâd just rolled out of bed. He points to himself, âIâm going to figure out how to fixâŠâ He gestures to Sunghoon warily, âThis as soon as possible. You,â He points to you next, âAre going to watch him while I do.â
Immediately, alarms go off in your head. You canât watch over Sunghoon. You just canât.
You sit up straighter, arms crossing in an X over your chest. âI canât,â You blurt, heat rising to your cheeks. You slowly lean back again, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. âI haveâŠplans.â
Itâs a lame excuse, you know. And you know neither of them believe you. (Honestly, does Sunghoon even understand whatâs going on?)
Beomgyu rolls his eyes, âOkay, first off, no you donât. And if this is like, a one in a million time in which you actually do have something going on, cancel it.â He lowers his voice slightly, hand covering his mouth so Sunghoon canât see what heâs saying. âHe canât be alone right now, and Iâm guessing youâre the only person heâll willingly go with. So, either take him or deal with the repercussions.â
You hate that heâs right.Â
Maybe, if you had any energy left in you youâd fight with him on it. Or maybe youâd just deal with the consequences of sending Sunghoon out there on his own. But one glance at the man in question, and you immediately cave.
Heâs gazing at you with hopeful eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side, like heâs hanging onto every word you say. It really shouldnât tug at your heart strings like it does. It shouldnât make you want to say yes until the word doesnât sound like a word anymore.
You sigh, forcing your gaze to the ground. âFine,â You huff, âIâll watch him. Whatever that means.â
Beomgyu grins, glancing between you and Sunghoon cheekily, like he knows something you donât. âGreat,â He rolls his neck, letting it pop once. âNow get out so I can get to work.â
Campus is never busy on Mondays. You think itâs because most people donât like the idea of morning classes on the first day of the week, which you canât really blame them for. But that also means that itâs just you and Sunghoon on the street, and while it feels completely awkward for youâhe looks like he just won a million bucks.
Heâs smiling, as if the harsh winds blowing across your faces is anything to smile about. As if anything about this situation is something to smile about.Â
And you know you shouldnât be upset. Anyone in your situation right now would probably be ecstatic. The man youâve been secretly in love with for the past three years is finally returning your feelings, even if they arenât completely genuine.
But thatâs the issue, isnât it? He doesnât really feel this way towards you, he just thinks he does. And it would be so easy to let yourself indulge in itâto let yourself forget that none of this is actually real.
But you canât. You know you canât.
Sunghoons arm brushes against yours, a complete accident, but you still flinch and pull away like heâs burned you.
He glances at you, eyebrows furrowing. His breaths coming out in uneven puffs of white fog. âEverything okay?â
You clear your throat, trying to act like the shiver that goes down your spine is from the frosted air and not because his smooth voice makes your body flush with heat. âIâm fine,â You murmur, âJustâŠhungry. Tired.â
He hums, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. âYou know,â He drawls, trying to keep up a nonchalant front. âWe could go eat. Together. Just me and you.â
You blink, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Is he asking you on a date right now? If the past two hours hadn't happened, you probably would've been more surprised.
You sigh, shaking your head slightly, âIâm not going on a date with you Sunghoon.â The words nearly don't make it out of your throat, feeling more artificial and practiced than anything else. If you would've told yourself a week ago you'd be rejecting Sunghoon, you probably would've slapped yourself for even thinking about it.
He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. âWho said anything about a date?â He asks, looking at you like you've just uggested the craziest thing he's ever heard. âWe're just two friends eating lunch together, right? Even if I am irrevocably in love with you.â
He throws the word love out like he's saying hello, not like he's pulling at the strings of your heart every time it leaves his lips. It almost sounds fucking natural, like he'd been saying it to you for years, which makes it even worse.
You pause in the street, pointing an accusatory finger at him. âOkay, I get that your brain isnât in the right place right now, but stop saying things like that.â
His head tilts slightly to the side, eyebrows raising in amusement. âWhy?â He asks, tone innocent, but you know better. You know heâs finding this funny. Itâs frustrating and annoying and your heart fucking stutters every time he looks at you like he knows exactly what makes you tick.
You stumble over your words, hands gesturing wildly in front of you. âBecause Itâs annoying! And weird! How would Sophia feel if she knew you were saying all of this?â
The air goes still at the mention of Sophia, like the thought of her is enough to push away the sun. Sunghoons expression hardens, his jaw tightening for a moment before he releases it. Itâs almost like the sound of her name has sucked all of the joy out of him. âWhy would I care what she thinks?â He mutters.
You blank, unsure of how to respond to that. You know the two have always had a more than toxic relationship, but youâve never seen him have so much distaste towards her before. Youâve never seen him have so much distaste towards anyone before.
âI don't know, maybe because sheâs your girlfriend?â You attempt.
His eyes harden as he looks away from you, like he doesn't want to point his annoyance towards you. âSheâs not my girlfriend.â He mumbles.
Your neck cranes up so you can look at him, arms crossing over your chest in a silent defense. âBesides,â He continues, taking a small step closer. âWhy would I care about her when youâre right in front of me?â
You feel that familiar heat rush up your neck, the one you know you have no right to feel. And itâs strange how something good on the surface can cut you so deeply. How something you hoped to hear from him for years can suddenly feel like the biggest insult.
But, you are hungryâyou werenât lying about that, and Beomgyu has already assigned you to practically be his babysitter anyway, so might as well get something out of it, right?
You let out a breath, kissing your teeth as you do. This is a very bad idea, and you know it. âWe can go to lunch as friends, but thatâs it, okay? And no more flirting.â
His lips curl into a grin, eyes flashing like heâs just won a prize. âPerfect, because I already made a reservation for us off campus.â
Of course he did.Â
You open your mouth to argue, or really say anything, but his hand makes its way onto your lower back so he can lead you away and you suddenly forget how to speak. Because, yes, youâre still a strong woman who would rather die than ever be rendered speechless by a manâbut Park Sunghoon is an exception. One that you know you shouldnât indulge, but doesnât it feel oh, so good when you do?
Thatâs how you find yourself thirty minutes later in the nicest restaurant in a fifteen mile radius, wearing jeans and an old ratty t-shirt. You cross your legs, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach at being so underdressed.
Sunghoon doesnât look the least bothered by it though, reading over the menu with sharp eyes and a slight furrow to his brows. He asks you your opinion occasionally, mumbles about calories and his protein intake. All things youâd never really felt the need to look at yourself before. Maybe hockey people have to worry about that stuff? Youâd always assumed it was just wrestlers and weightlifters.
âDo you like Alfredo sauce or marinara? I like both, but I want you to be able to pick off my plate.â He mutters, saying it so casually. Like ordering his own food based on what you like is just common sense. If any of this was real, he would make the perfect boyfriend.
It makes you wonder again how Sophia could just let him go so easily.
Your eyes flicker up from your own menu, heart stuttering in your chest. âJust get whatever you want,â You sigh, âYou donât need to ask me.â
Heâs silent for a moment, the gears in his head turning. He slowly sets his menu down, and then plucks your own from your fingers.
Your eyebrows furrow as you go to reach for it, âSunghoonââ
âWhy are you so set on rejecting me?â He asks, keeping his eyes on yours. The eye-contact nearly makes your throat close up from how intense it is. âI know you think none of this is real or whateverââ
"Because it isnât.â You interrupt. You wish you understood how this experiment worked, because then maybe you'd know how to get it through his thick skull that none of this was real. You run a hand through your hair before continuing, âYou drank an experiment, Sunghoon. Everything youâre feelingâeverything you think youâre feelingâit isnât real.â Your voice cracks slightly, like itâs a manifestation of your own hurt.Â
Sunghoon, for the first time since this entire thing started, goes silent. His jaw ticks, breathing going slightly uneven. The air crackles between you, tension that neither of you really want to admit is there.
And then, without even so much as a stutter, he says, âIâll prove it then.â
You falter, lips parting as a laugh bubbles out of your throat. You donât mean to laugh, really, you donât, but Sunghoon's insistence is almost admirable. And, unfortunately for you, his stubbornness only makes you fall for him the tiniest bit more.
âWhy are you so set on this?â You ask, mimicking his question from earlier.Â
He shrugs, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hand. âDoes it matter?â
Yes, it does matter. But you know thereâs no way youâre going to get an actual answer from him, so you wonât push anymore. So, instead you just shrug, fingers tapping against the table. âI guess not.â
Sunghoon grins, his tongue poking against his cheek slightly. âAtta girl.â
You should drag him out of the restaurant and back to Beomgyuâs apartment after that. Should refuse to even speak to him until Beomgyu figures out how to reverse this whole thing. Should protect your heart from the hurt that you know is coming.
But you donât do any of that. Instead, you laugh along to his jokes. You donât protest when he pays for your food. You let him walk you home like heâs your boyfriend and try to ignore the deep ache beginning to bloom in your chest every time he looks at you like he loves you.
And when you lay in bed that night, sheets tucked to your chin and green glowing stars shining on your ceiling, you let yourself believe that all of it was real. That all of it meant something.
Even if that was only true for one of you.
You arenât sure what youâre expecting the next morning, but it certainly isnât sunghoon at your door with a jersey in one hand and hockey stick in the other.
You blink at him, still in your pajamas with leftover mascara flakes covering your cheeks. Youâre sure you look the picture of attractiveness right now. You sigh, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles. âWhat are you doing here?â
Sunghoon holds the jersey out to you, and itâs then that you realize itâs his. Or, at least, one with his number and name on it. âThis is for tonight.â He says casually, like youâre supposed to know what that means.
Your eyebrows furrow as you cautiously take it from him, inspecting it like it was a bomb and not a piece of fabric. âUh,â You chuckle humorlessly, âWhatâs tonight?â
The jersey is your size, but the only other people you can think of who wear these are family members, die-hard fans, andâŠgirlfriends.Â
But thereâs no way thatâs why heâs giving this to you. Besides, youâd seen Sophia wear the same exact thing enough times to know what wearing it would mean--to know what it would make you, as well as everyone else on the campus, aware of.Â
That you were Sunghoons.
That is not happening.
He leans against your doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. His hockey stick pokes out from under his armpit awkwardly, and the sight nearly makes you crack a smile.
âFor the game,â He says, âYouâre coming.â
You immediately shake your head and attempt to shove the jersey back into his arms. âYeah, no, Iâm not going to that. Thanks for the offer though.â
You turn on your heel after forcing him to take back the shirt, and while you know you should tell him to leave, you let him follow you into your apartment.
He trails behind you like a lost puppy, a slight pout twisted onto his features. âYou have to go,â He insists, âYouâre my girlfriendââ
You whip around and glare at him, âI am not your girlfriend.â
His lips curl up into a shy smile, a hand coming up to brace the back of his neck. âThatâs a technicality.â
You give him a look before finally turning back around and continuing your walk to your bathroom. He tries to follow you in, but you quickly shut the door in his face. You half expect that to finally be the hint he needs, but of course it isn't. Instead, he just keeps talking to you through the door. âOkay, fine, youâre not my girlfriend.â He sighs, voice slightly muffled. You just roll your eyes and throw your hair up, grabbing your toothbrush from its place in the barbie cup on your sink.
âBut you said I could prove to you how serious I was,â He continues. You can hear his body slide down to the floor, and you assume heâs sitting with his back against the door. Heâs silent for a moment, before mumbling out so quietly you nearly donât hear him, âLet me do what I said I would. Please.â
You are a weak, weak woman. Youâve always known this. When it comes to school and things of that nature youâd always known you excelled. But, people? That was something that was way out of your league.
Your mom used to call you a people-pleaser. Said itâd end up in you getting hurt if you didnât learn how to step away from things before they got out of hand. And you thought you had.
But maybe you hadnât.
You sigh, finishing up brushing your teeth and washing your face. By the time you're finished the ends of your hair and the sleeves of your shirt are soaked, but you donât care. He wouldnât care what you looked like right now anyway. His brain is all jumbled up and you doubt you looking like a hot mess is the thing that'll fix it.
You open the door cautiously, and just as youâd expected heâs sat on the other side with his knees tucked into his chest. He looks so small here, so boyish. Not like the Park Sunghoon youâd seen from the spotlight, not like the school's star player and pride and joy. From here, he looks like a boy trying to find himself in a world too big for him.
You tug your bottom lip into your teeth, eyes choosing to look everywhere but at him. âIâll go,â You finally mumble, voice smaller than you wanted it to be. âBut Iâm not wearing the jersey.â
He smiles, shoulders sagging in relief. He tilts his head up so he can see you. âJersey?â He smirks, crumbling up the fabric and shoving it behind his back. âWhat jersey?â
You grin despite yourself and nudge your foot into his lower back. âWhatever. Go home so I can get ready.â
He stands, knees popping as he does. He grabs his hockey stick from where it leans against your wall, fingers wrapping around it and giving it a firm squeeze. âSix pm, alright? Iâll get you and your friends a spot up front.â
You shake your head, âYou donât have to do thatââ
He grins, and before you can even think about swerving him, leans in and places a gentle kiss at the crown of your head. You freeze, body flushing and eyes going wide.
His lips are softer than you thought theyâd be, coated with a scentless chapstick that youâd seen him carry around with him for years. He pauses for a moment, his spare hand lingering at your waist. He never touches you directly, doesnât even attempt to. But you can still feel the slight heat emitting from his hand, and it almost feels more intimate than if he'd just taken that final leap.
He swallows, taking a step away from you. Thereâs a slight pink blush dusting his cheeks, like heâs shocked by his own actions, but heâs quick to clear his throat and pretend like there was nothing out of the ordinary about what heâd just done. Like the entire thing was a regular occasion for the both of you.
âIâll see you there, okay?â He mutters, raising a brow. Like he needs more reassurance that youâll stick to your word and show up.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips for a moment, eyes searching for any indication that maybe he understands what he did. That maybe the experiment's effects are starting to wear off. But when you look at him, you see the same exact thing youâve been seeing since yesterday morning.
Pure, unbridled, love.
You suck in a breath, nodding your head slightly. âYeah,â You manage, though your voice comes out low and breathless. âIâll be there.â
He smiles, mumbles out a soft goodbye, and then leaves you in the middle of your hallway, body flushed and mind jumbled.
Yunjin, to your dismay, comes over as soon as you ask her too.
She looks ecstatic. Youâd called her last night and explained the entire situation, but she, of course, couldnât see how it was a very bad thing.
âWhy are you so upset?â Sheâd asked over the phone. You didnât have to see her face to know she was practically beaming. âThe guy youâve been secreltey obsessing over like some kind of stalker is in love with you! That sounds like a complete win to me!â
Youâd winced, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. âYeah, It sounds great! But he doesnâtâŠâ You swallowed uncomfortably, âHe doesnât actually feel that way for me. He just thinks he does.â
You heard her take a drink of something before she sighed out, âHow do you know that?â
You went silent, unsure of how to answer. What did she mean how did you know? It was obvious. Sunghoon accidentally drinks a love potion and now thinks heâs in love with you. Thatâs what had happened.
You tucked your legs under you and adjusted your phone against your ear. âI think thatâs obvious, Yunjin.â You murmured.
She hummed, âI donât know, [Y/N].â She said, tone strangely teasing. âMaybe heâll surprise you.â
So, when youâd called her and asked her to help you get ready for tonightâs match, she was ecstatic. And you appreciated her support, of course, but you werenât sure she really understood what was happening here.
You and Sunghoon are nothing. When all of this was over, youâd go back to being two strangers who sometimes smiled awkwardly at each other out of obligation. And you needed to be able to be okay with that. You had to be.
âOkay, I think you should wear something super sexy so that Sunghoonâs knocked on his ass.â Yunjin quips, scouring through your closet and inspecting everything you own like it owes her something.
You sigh from where you lay on your bed, staring up at the stars on your ceiling like maybe theyâll save you. âWeâre going to his game, Yun. I donât want him to fall on his ass.â You chuckle, throwing up air quotes around the end of your sentence.
Yunjin rolls her eyes and throws another pair of jeans onto your desk chair. âI donât mean literally. I just mean maybe it wouldnât hurt to wear something different."
You sit up, bracing yourself against your elbows. âWhat's wrong with my usual clothes?â You ask, eyebrows raising teasingly.
Yunjin pauses, cautiously turning around so youâre face to face. âThereâs nothing wrong with it," She attempts, lips twisting thoughtfully as she tries to come up with the softest way to say it. âBut I donât think a pair of sweatpants and some random shirt you got in middle school is quite the look weâre going for.â
You scoff, flopping back down onto your bed and pushing the palm of your hands into your eyes until white dots fill your vision. You donât think thereâs anything wrong with what you usually wear, even if it isnât the nicest clothes ever.
But you canât lie and say there isnât a part of you that wonders how Sunghoon would react. Would he even care? If he did, would it even be real?
âI think that youâre blowing this way out of proportion.â You mutter, letting your arms wrap around yourself.
Yunjin snorts and tosses a shirt at you. You cautiously inspect the fabricâa blue long sleeved top with a deep neckline that youâd bought to make your ex-boyfriend jealous and then never wore. You scrunch your nose slightly at it and then toss it back at her.Â
âThereâs no way Iâm wearing that.â You snort.
Yunjin nods, grabbing a pair of dark jeans from your closet. âThatâs what you think.â
The hockey arena, to no one's surprise, is full to the brim with die hard fans and half-way drunk college students. You, personally, have never been to a game before. Mostly because you know what they consist of, and youâd rather skip watching men fight over a puck on ice when you could be doing much more important things. Like rewatching New Girl.
But, alas, you, Yunjin, and Jungwon all find your seats right at the barricade. Beomgyu had chosen to skip so that he could keep working on some kind of fix for your current situation, but you had half the mind to believe it was because he simply didnât want to come.
Jungwon takes a sip of his fountain drink, letting the red straw rest on his lip. âSo, youâre telling me that Sunghoon drank the experiment, thinks heâs in love with you, and invited you here because he wants to prove to you that itâs real?â
You nod, shrugging your jacket off and laying it across the back of your seat. The players are warming up in front of you, their skates scratching against the ice as they yell instructions at each other. You can see Sunghoon talking to another boy with a serious expression, his hands moving admittedly as he does. You can tell heâs being stern with him, but the boy doesnât look upset or scared in the least. If anything, heâs taking his lecture with prideâlike getting told off by Park Sunghoon is a privilege.
And you think that goes into show just the kind of person that he is. He's kind, and funny, and defientley doesn't deserve what you're putting him through.
"Um," You sniff, adjusting yourself in your seat. âThatâs pretty much it, yeah.â
Jungwon hums, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. âIs it weird that that isnât the strangest thing thatâs happened to us?â He asks.
You furrow your brows, âWhat could possibly be weirder then that?â
âRemember freshman year?â Yunjin chimes in, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. âThere was that full two weeks where Beomgyu was stained pink.â
âOh,â You draw out, chuckling at the memory. âI do remember that.â
You giggle at the memory. Beomgyu had had a rouge experiment blow up in his face--literally--and spent two weeks looking like he'd just stepped out of the Barbie movie.
Jungwon shrugs, âI would argue that seeing Beomgyu walk around campus like a real-life monster high doll was definitely weirder than this.â
You donât respond, instead turning your attention back towards Sunghoon. He still hasnât noticed youâwhich youâre mostly grateful for, but it also makes you anxious for when he does.
While youâve never been to one of the matches in person, you have seen them online. You know that they can get heated and violent. Youâve seen Sunghoon walk into class with the occasional black eye or scabbed over knuckles.
It makes worry build in your stomach, thick and strong and nearly overwhelming. And you know you shouldnât care. Sunghoon isnât your boyfriend, even if he seems to think he is. But, still, the thought of him getting hurt makes you want to throw up.
You lean back in your chair, leg bouncing anxiously, and then you see it. Itâs a subtle movement from the corner of your eye, but you catch it nonetheless.
Two seats down from you, Sophia sits down with her friends, all of them looking like they just stepped out of fucking vogue. And Sophia, with her perfectly blown-out hair and sickly sweet smile, is wearing Sunghoons jersey.
Your heart drops, stomach becoming an endless pit as you stare at her. Youâd assumed they broke up, but what if they hadnât? That was the only explanation you could think of for why she was here wearing that. What if you had accidentally ruined her relationship with Sunghoon?
Not to say that their relationship wasnât already on the brink of disaster, but still.
You nudge Jungwon with your elbow, forcing your gaze onto the rink. The other team has come onto the ice now, and you can see Sunghoon's jaw tick. But he isnât watching the other team, no, heâs searching the stands.
Searching them for you.
You suddenly feel a wave of guilt at what youâve done, even if it was an accident. Youâve inadvertently forced yourself into the middle of a relationship that was never any of your business. Does this make you a homewrecker?
âJungwon,â You mumble, âTell Yunjin weâre leaving.â
âWhat?â He asks, eyebrows knitting together. âThe game hasnât even started.â
You sink into your seat as you watch Sunghoons gaze get closer and closer to you. âSophiaâs here.â You say through your teeth, âAnd sheâs wearing his jersey.â
Jungwons gaze shifts past you, lips parting when he spots her. âOh.â
âYeah,â You murmur, âOh.â
Jungwon turns and tells Yunjin, and you watch as her head pops out from behind him, her lips pulled into a frown. âOh, this is so fucked.â
You cover your face with your hands and groan, âIâm a homewrecker!â
âOkay, no,â Yunjin scoffs, still eyeing Sophia like maybe if she stares at her long enough sheâll disappear, âThis is all just a really small misunderstanding.â
You groan again, dropping your hands to your lap and looking back onto the rink. Sunghoon finally spots you then, a smile curling onto his lips as he skates over. Your stomach churns, letting yourself steal a glance to Sophia, who is also smiling at Sunghoon.Â
You sink further into your seat.
âY/N!â He calls once he approaches, placing a hand in the glass separating you. You can practically feel Sophiaâs gaze burning into your skull, and for once, you canât even be mad that youâre on the other side of her icy glare.
âUm,â You manage, clearing your throat and cocking your head as subtly as possible towards Sophia. âSunghoon, you should probably go say hi to your girlfriend before you say hi to me.â
You can feel Jungwon and Yunjin holding their breaths, like theyâre scared any sudden movement will set off some kind of bomb. But Sunghoon either doesn't notice the tension, or heâs actively choosing to ignore it.
He cocks his head to the side, smile faltering a bit. âWhat are you talking aboutââ
âHoonie!â
Thereâs something very distinct about Sophiaâs voiceâjust the right amount of feminine to be cutsey, but still bordering on the edge of nails on a chalkboard. Normally, the sound of it would make you roll your eyes and resist the urge to pull your hair out, but now it just makes you feel sick with guilt.
Sunghoons expression immediately shifts, his smile curling downwards, eyes narrowing slightly. When he spots Sophia, he almost looks bored. Like the sight of her is nothing special.
She climbs over the people next to you, a mom and her toddler, both of whom she doesnât apologize to when she steps on the tips of their shoes.
âHoon,â She sighs, adjusting her skirt. âI missed you.â
She doesnât even spare you a glance, which youâre partially thankful for. But, you also canât help but wonder if itâs because she doesnât even see you as a threat.
Which, youâre notâbut still. Itâd at least be nice to be considered one.
Sunghoons jaw ripples, gaze icy and nearly angry. âWhatâre you doing here Sophia?â He asks. His gaze falls downwards, onto the blue jersey she wears proudly across her chest, and scoffs. âAnd why are you wearing that?â
Sophia doesnât even flinch at his tone, if anything she seems to revel in it. âWhy wouldnât I be here, silly?â She giggles, âIâm supporting my boyfriend!â
Jungwon glances over at you, but your eyes stay on the floor. What are you supposed to say? Actually, youâre boyfriend thinks heâs in love with me, so sorry! Youâd just sound crazy.
Sunghoon leans closer, voice lowering an octave. âAre you forgetting that I caught you fucking my roomate last weekend?â He spits, gripping his hockey stick so hard youâre convinced itâll break. âOr am I supposed to just get over that like everything else?â
You canât help the gasp that leaves you. A small sound, but itâs enough to catch her attention. She whips her head around, dark eyes catch yours, nose scrunched like sheâs staring at the trash on the side of the sidewalk and not a person.
You half expect her to apologize for having such a private conversation in front of you, but she doesnât do that. Why would she? Instead, she barks, âCanât you see weâre having a conversation? Go somewhere else.â
You blink, lips parting as you try to come up with something to say. But, Sunghoon beats you to it.
âDonât talk to her like that.â He defends, eyes blazing something nearly protective. It makes your heart flutter and heat fill your stomach for all the wrong reasons.
Sophia takes a moment to process, but when she does, you wouldâve thought Sunghoon had just told her heâd made out with her mom.
âWhy are you defending her?â She asks, letting out a humorless laugh. She really takes you in then, eyeing you up and down. You sink into yourself instinctually, arms wrapping around your stomach like a shield. âDonât tell me this is my replacement?â She chuckles, like the thought of you even being near Sunghoon is amusing.
You shake your head, hands shooting out in front of you. Even though she doesn't deserve it, you don't want to be the other woman. âNo, no, thatâs notââ
But Sunghoon doesn't let you finish. âShe canât be a replacement when thereâs nothing to replace.â He mutters, tongue leaking venom.
Sophia, for what youâre sure is the first time in her life, is rendered speechless. Her glossy lips part, eyes widening a fraction. âSunghoonââ
He turns to you then, completely ignoring her like her prescense isnât even a blip on his radar. His eyes soften, cheeks flushing the lightest shade of pink. âMeet me after the game, okay?â He mumbles.
A buzzer sounds, and both teams on the ice skate over to their respective coaches to get ready for the game. Your lips part as you wrack your brain for a response, but itâs hard when Sophia is sneering at you like youâd just said the dumbest thing sheâd ever heard.
Sunghoon sighs, throwing you a final glance before pushing off the glass and beginning to skate towards the rest of his teammates.
His jaw ticks once, throwing Sophia an icy look over his shoulder. âGo home, Sophia.â He mumbles.
Sophia doesnât say anything else, just shoots you a glare and then stomps back to her waiting friends. They all look sympathetic when she tells them what happened, shooting you not-so-subtle death glares. As if you did something. Well, you didâyou unintentionally home wrecked her relationship, but still, it was all accidental!
Yunjin lets out a low whistle, crossing her leg over her knee and clasping her hands around it. âCan we make more of those love potion things?â She asks with a chuckle. âThis is reality tv kind of entertainment.â
Jungwon nods, âRivals love island, honestly.â
You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut, âThis isnât a reality tv show.â You mumble.
Yunjin shrugs, popping a piece of candy into her mouth. âWe know, but it might as well be. Or maybe the plot of some super bad fanfiction.â
And, well, you canât really argue with that.
But youâd never been good at confrontation, and Sophia keeps looking at you like youâd owe her something. Her lips pulled tightly together, friend whispering in her ear like she knows your deepest darkest secrets.
And somewhere in the back of your mind, thereâs a subtle prick of insecurity. One that forces you deeper into your seat and into your own head.
The game goes by in a blur, one that you barely pay attention to. Itâs not that you donât want to, but itâs a little difficult when Sophia keeps glancing over at you and laughing with her friends.
You arenât stupid. Youâve been laughed at before--been the victim of bullies who thought they had the upper hand for whatever reason. But that had been in high school, never in college. And even though you try to push it awayâtry to block it outâthose awful thoughts still crawl their way from the depths of your mind. Thoughts that you hadnât had since youâd sat alone in a chemistry classroom in tenth grade, back before youâd met Beomgyu.
So, when the game is over (Sunghoon led the team to victory of course, because why wouldnât he?), you donât hesitate shrugging your jacket back on and climbing your way over people to get to the exit.
Yunjin and Jungwon stumble behind you, calling your name in an attempt to get you to slow down, but you donât. Canât, really.
You didnât sign up for any of this. Didnât sign up to be the target of Sophiaâs stares, didnât sign up to be the girl Sunghoons convinced heâs in love with.
You just wanted to go back to your life before. When you were still just in the background with your select circle. You wanted to go back to watching Sunghoon from afarâto being the girl heâd never look twice at.
Because this? This was too much for you.
And you know none of it is his fault, but that almost just makes it worse. He has no idea how much all of this is really hurting you. How much it breaks your heart every time he looks at you like you mean something to him.
The wind hits your face when you step outside, neon lights of the stadium lighting up the parking lot around you. You finally let out a breath, eyes glassy and lips chapped. Maybe youâre being dramatic, but you really donât care.
â[Y/N]!â Yunjin calls, jogging slightly to catch up with you. Her jackets hanging off her arms awkwardly, purse dangling from her elbow. âWhere are you going?â She presses, grabbing your bicep gently and forcing you to a stop. âWhatâs going on?â
You force your gaze to the ground, shoving your hands in your pockets. âIâm going home,â You tell her, voice raw. âThis was a mistake. I shouldnât have come. If I had known he was still with Sophiaââ
âWoah, hold on,â Yunjin interrupts you. Jungwon approaches then, his blonde hair blowing over his forehead awkwardly. âDid you not hear Sunghoon? Theyâre broken up.âÂ
You scoff, rolling your eyes. âTheyâre always broken up.â
Yunjins lips pull in tight, annoyance flashing in her eyes. âIs this because she was here?â She asks you, tone serious and deadly. "You know you don't need to care about whatever it is her and her friends think."
Itâs rare for her to speak to you so seriously, always the one looking towards humor to lighten up situations. So when she does, you tend to listen.
âSophia is a bitch, plain and simple. Sunghoon is not. And heâs actively trying to prove to you that he wants you, and youâre not letting him.â She insists.
You pull your arm from her grip at that, eyebrows knitting together. Does she seriously think anything Sunghoon is doing he actually means? If that were the case, you wouldn't even be in this situation.
âYunjin, he doesnât know what heâs doing!â You spit, tone harsher then you mean it. You donât mean to aim your anger towards her, but she just keeps pushing and pushing until you finally explode. âDonât you get it? He doesnât feel like that towards me.â Your voice breaks, eyes brimming with tears. âHe doesnât feel anything towards me.â
Jungwon swallows, his eyes downcast. He was usually good in situations like this, usually the one to take the lead and get you laughing again, but now he canât even meet your eyes.
Yunjin reaches for you again, sympathy written all over her face, but you pull away. You donât want her comfort right now, even though you know it comes from a place of love.
You suck in a shaky breath, forcing your gaze onto the sidewalk in front of you. The pavement is wet from rain earlier in the day, collecting in small puddles below your feet. âIâm just going to go home, okay? Tell Sunghoon Iâm sorry.â
â[Y/N]âŠâ Yunjin mumbles, but youâre already walking away, arms wrapped around yourself and bottom lip trembling.
Is it pathetic to be crying over a stupid boy and a mean girl? Maybe. But you also know that having feelings is human, and sometimes, when the time is right, itâs okay to cry.
And you think right now is one of those times.
You donât cry hard. Not full, chest-heaving sobs, just occasional hiccupsâa steady stream of tears flowing down your cheeks that you stain your sleeves with every time you wipe at them.
Your apartment is cold when you enter, the air brushing harshly against your face. You shrug your jacket off and toss it onto the couch, padding over to your room with exhaustion sinking into your bones.
You peel off your clothesâthe top Yunjin had insisted you wear for Sunghoon suddenly feeling suffocating and tight. It isnât often you let yourself wallow in self-pity like this, but tonight was going to have to be an exception.
You change into a stained t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a rip in the knees and collapse onto your couch. You wonder if Sunghoon said anything when he noticed you werenât there. Was he disappointed? Or had he finally realized it wasnât you he should be chasing after?
Your heart hurts at the thought, aching and heavy in your chest.
It isn't fair to him that you feel like this. It isn't fair to you that he's unknowingly playing with your heart. The entire thing is a bad dream you wish you could just wake up from.
You barely register the knock at your door at first, too stuck in your head while trying to pretend youâre paying attention to whatever sitcomâs playing on the TV.
But then it comes again, not harsh, just louder. More insistent. Like whoeverâs on the other side is desperate to see you.
You roll your eyes, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders and forcing yourself to pad over. âYunjin,â You sigh, clicking the lock and swinging the door open. âI donât want to talk to you.â
But it isnât Yunjin standing on the other side. Itâs Sunghoon.
His black hair is a mess, bangs covering his eyes in a way you know canât be comfortable, a pair of black-rimmed glasses resting against his nose. Heâs not wearing his jersey anymore, but the black compression shirt he wears under it is still there, a pair of gray sweatpants laying dangerously low on his hips.
He looks dangerously handsome without even trying.
Your breath catches before you can stop it, gaze falling down his body like youâre commiting it to memory. Youâre both silent, just staring at eachother, waiting for the other to cut through the tension first.
It shouldnât hurt seeing him right now as much as it does. You donât have any claim on him. He loves Sophia, youâve known that from the start.
So why does it feel like tonight was just one big slap in the face? Like the universe was reminding you of exactly what your place with him really is?
Sunghoon swallows, eyes shaky as they try to search your own. You donât let him though. You know if you look him in the eye right now, youâll break, and thatâs the last thing you want him to see.
âYou left,â He whispers, tone low. You can hear the hurt seeping through his voice, but itâs masked by a weird kind of warmth. Like even though you hurt him, he canât physically be mad at you.
You think thatâs probably a side effect.
You shift your weight uncomfortably, twiddling your thumbs in front of you. You canât look at himâtoo scared of what youâll find if you do.
âSunghoon,â You start, voice trembling. âYou donât want me.â You don't say it like a question, instead it's a statement.
His fingers tighten into fists at his sides, knuckles going pale. âWhy do you keep assuming you know what I want?â He asks.
You shake your head, âYouâre just confusedââ
âStop,â He interrupts, taking a small step towards you. âStop saying that when I know I've never been more clear headed in my life.â
You stiffen, unsure of how to respond. You know for a fact he has no idea what heâs doing or talking about. And thatâs what makes it hurt the most. He genuinely believes he loves you, and fuck, youâd give anything for it to be real.
His hand reaches out, but he hesitates and drops it back to his side. "Let me prove it to you, okay? Just like I said I would. No games. No Sophia. Just me and you.â
You force your gaze up then, eyes narrowed. You shouldnât say yes, not when your heart is already on the brink of collapse. But Sunghoons staring at you like heâll break into pieces if you say noâlike the thought of you rejecting him is too much to handle.
You lean against the doorframe, lips twisting slightly. âI don't know,â You attempt, âitâs already so late and I look a messââ
âPlease,â he breathes out, voice wrecked. âStop thinking so hard and let me show you how much you mean to me.â
Your knuckles tighten until your fingernails dig into your palms, forming little crescent-shaped marks into the soft skin. Everything inside of you is telling you to say no. To tell him to go home and lock himself in his room until Beomgyu figures out how to fix this.
But thereâs still that small part of youâthe part that wonders if maybe he really did mean every sweet word that fell from his perfect lips. If maybe, just maybe, all of this was real.
And that part of you wins.
Sunghoon doesnât let you changeâjust ushers you into your jacket and leads you with a hand on your lower back out of your apartment and back towards the rink.
You donât notice thatâs where youâre heading at first, not until the lights outside the parking lot come into view. Your stomach twists at the memory of your last conversation with Yunjin and Jungwon, but you push it away. Youâd fix things tomorrow.
âWhy are we here?â You ask, glancing up at the raven-haired boy. His palm hasnât left your back since you started walking, almost like he was staking his claim there. Imprinting the shape of him into your skin like itâs second nature.
He shrugs, mischief flashing in his smile. âYouâll see.â
Youâve never seen the stadium empty before, but now that you are, it makes you realize just how daunting it really is. The lights pointed at the rink are still on, reflecting off of the ice and glinting across its surface. You can see the slight scuff marks and dents from numerous skates, small puddles forming in their wake.
Sunghoon jogs in front of you, pulling out a set of keys and opening the gate that the hockey players use to get onto the rink. He holds an arm out to you, gesturing for you to come over to him.
You do so cautiously, arms wrapped around yourself. The ice from the rink makes the air frigid, crawling up your spine like a garden snake. Menacing, but not dangerous.
âI donât have any skates.â You mumble.
Sunghoon smiles, reaching out and wiggling your hand out from where it rests under your arm, âThatâs okay,â He says softly, intertwining your fingers. His hands are large, this is something youâve always known. Itâs hard not to notice when he makes his pencil look like a fucking mini-brand every time he writes down his notesâbut now you realize just how much they dwarf your own. âWe don't need them.â
He pulls you onto the rink then, and feet immediately slip on the slick ice. You yelp when you feel your foot begin to slide from beneath you, back arching and spare arm flinging to your side, but Sunghoon grips your hand and pulls you to his chest like heâd been expecting it.
You huff when your face meets his chest, heat crawling viciously up your neck from embarrassment. Sunghoons chest vibrates with laughter against your cheek, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pull you closer to him.
âFinally falling for me?â He teases.
If only he knew.
You scoff and cautiously step away from him, tightening the muscles in your legs so you donât slip again. âYou wish.â You say, meaning for it to come out harsh, but instead it sounds soft. Playful. Everything it shouldnât be.
He rolls his eyes and drags you to the middle of the ice, careful not to tug too hard or walk too fast, instead matching his pace with yours.
You look around at the thousands of seats surrounding you, the blinding lights on the ice. There isnât even anyone here, and you still feel slightly intimidated. It makes you wonder how heâs able to deal with all of it so efficiently.
He stops suddenly, forcing you to as well. For a split second, you think he almost looks nervous.Â
He sucks in a breath, brown eyes finding your own. You just raise your brows, staring at him expectantly. You assume he mustâve brought you here for somethingâitâs just whatever that is that puts you slightly on edge.
âDo you remember that glass duck you carried around at the beginning of the year? The one with the weird monocle and pink jacket?â He asks, releasing your hand and shoving it into his coat pocket. You can see something round in there, you just have no idea what it is.
You frown. You do remember that duck. Youâd found it on your trip with Yunjin to Europe over the summer in some rundown antique shop. It was stupidly overpriced and honestly kind of ugly, but youâd fallen in love with it for whatever reason. Maybe because it was a little different then the other ducks, with a weirdly shaped beak and slightly bigger beady eyes. But it was perfect to you.
At least, it was until Jungwon accidently broke it on Halloween weekend. Heâd drunkenly slammed into you and knocked it loose from its place on your bag, and it ultimately shattered as soon as it hit the floor. You remember youâd been devastated and refused to talk to Jungwon for a week after, but that was it. You hadn't really thought twice about it for a while now.
But, how did Sunghoon know about it? Why was he asking you? Youâd never talked about it with himâhell, you barely said two words to him back then.
Your chin lowers slightly in suspicion, âI do, yes. Why?â
He swallows, and you can see his free hand twitch. âWell, I saw it break at that party on Halloween. And you looked so sad. AndâŠI really hated it. So,â He takes a breath, finally revealing whatever it was he had in his pocket. âI fixed it.â
You blink. Once. Twice. Heâs holding out the duck to you, cracks from where it'd shattered all over its little glass body but ultimately put back together.
It takes you a second to fully process whatâs going on, but once you do your lips part in a gasp and you take it from him. You hold it up to your face, cradling it in your hands. âHow did youâwhat? Why? I-I donât understandââ Youâre talking so fast you barely even understand yourself, but Sunghoon just laughs, and you notice the way his shoulders slowly relax in relief.
He shrugs, like this is any other day and he didnât just reveal to you heâd fixed your most prized possession. âI didn't want you to lose it,â He admits, taking a careful step towards you. âYou donât deserve to lose things you love.â
You glance up at him then, and you realize just how close he really is. The last time youâd been in this position heâd placed a soft kiss on your hairline, and although your heart feels like itâs skipping a beat, itâs not out of fear this time.
Itâs something more dangerous, something you shouldnât be allowing yourself to feel. Not with his condition. You glance back down to the glass duck, hesitation gnawing at your stomach.Â
Ultimately, you know that what you feel for Sunghoon is not returned. But this... this changes things. Heâd taken the time all those months ago, before the experiment was even thought of, and fixed something youâd deemed unfixable simply because he didnât want you to be sad. Usually, youâd think that meant something.
But isnât that also just the kind of boy he is? Kind, golden-hearted Park Sunghoon. Campus golden boy. Star hockey player. Everything you could never have.
âSunghoon,â You breathe out shakily, still holding the duck in your palm. âThank you.â
Although you're feeling conflicted about where he really stands with you, you know you're overall grateful. You've never had someone do something so kind for you simply because they can.
He doesnât respond, just gives you a shy smile. Itâs the first time youâve seen him look so bashful. Itâs cute. âIt wasnât any problem.â
You hum, tapping your nails against the duck's glass tail. âCan I ask why you needed to bring me here to give me this?â You question, a teasing lilt to your voice.
He shrugs, âItâs more romantic here then in the middle of your living room.â
You laugh aloud at that. For once, the mention of romance with him doesnât make you want to throw up and die all at the same time. Instead, it leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy and all the things you know are going to hurt you in the end.
Because while this entire illusion is going to be over at some point, right now, in this moment, Sunghoon is in love with you. And youâre starting to wonder just how wrong itâd be to let him.
Your heart is heavy in the morning as you fidget with the duck. Itâs hanging off your purse again, safely locked into place with a keychain. Youâd asked Jungwon and Yunjin to meet you for coffee so you could talk, and both had agreed easily.
You guys never really did well with bad blood. Any arguments you had were always resolved fairly quickly, because otherwise it would simmer until you thought too hard about it and ended up doing something you regretted.
And you know you owe them an apologyâYunjin, especially. Sheâd only been trying to help, and youâd spat venom at her like sheâd done something wrong. You didnât want to be like that, and it was important to you that she knew how sorry you were. That they both knew.
They arrive together, steps slow as they approach the table youâd saved. You shoot them a sad smile, unsure of just how angry they were.
They sit next to each other across from you, sharing a glance that makes your stomach churn. You suck in a breath, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. âIâm sorry,â You start, choosing to skip the awkward pleasantries and getting straight to the point. âYou guys didnât deserve that. At all. And Iââ
âStop,â Yunjin sighs, not letting you finish. Your heart drops, immediately assuming she's about to end your friendship. But she doesn't--instead, she points between herself and Jungwon and says with a quiet finality, âWe should be the ones apologizing.â
You raise a brow at that, spine straightening in your seat. âWhat? Noââ
âYes,â Jungwon interrupts now, his eyes full of concern. âYou were rightfully upset with everything going on, and we pushed it aside simply because we didnât understand how you were feeling.â He sniffs, head tilting to the side slightly. âI didnât realize how hard this must all be for you. Having the guy you like constantly telling you heâs in love with you, and then not even know if he means it? Itâs unfair to you.â
Youâre silent, a wave of relief and guilt crashing over you at once. Youâre relieved that your emotions are being validated, but you also feel guilty that they think they need to apologize to you when you yourself are struggling with what you should feel. Before last night, you would've agreed with them wholeheartedly, but now you werenât sure. You glance down at the figurine hanging from your bag once, heart filling with so much warmth you think it may burst.Â
âYouâre right,â You murmur, leaning back in your chair. âIt is unfair, but Iâm starting to wonder if maybeâŠmaybe I was wrong.â
Yunjinâs eyes widen, confusion written all over her face. âWhat?â
You smile softly, reaching for your purse and spinning it around so they can see the once-broken glass duck. They both study it for a moment, and you watch as recognition flashes in their eyes.
Jungwon frowns and looks back at you. âI thought I broke that ugly thing?â
âItâs not ugly,â You scoff, snatching your bag back and carefully unclipping the little duck from where it hangs. You place it in the middle of the table with a small shrug. âHe fixed it.â
The three of you stare at it, studying the cracks the run along itâs surface.
âWhat do you mean he fixed it?â Yunjin asks.
âI mean,â You sigh, âHe saw it break on Halloweekend, and took it upon himself to fucking glue it back together.â
A beat. And then, âAre you serious?â
You donât laugh, even though you want to. It is entirely ridiculous, but it happened. Youâve spent the last twelve hours mulling it over in your mind, and you can only come to one conclusion.Â
Maybe Sunghoon noticed you more than you thought.
And if that were true, what did it mean now?
You manage a soft smile, picking at the skin around your fingers mindlessly. âYep,â You hum, popping the P. âGave it to me last night.â
Yunjin squeals, gripping Jungwon's bicep and shaking him. He huffs and rips his arm from her grip. âQuit!â He hisses.
Yunjin just ignores him, her full attention on you. âI know I shouldnât be feeding into this anymore, but that,â She gestures towards the duck, âThat is more than some stupid experiment.â
You sigh, voice small when you say, âI know. I justâŠI donât know what the right thing to do is anymore.âÂ
And for the first time, youâre starting to feel like youâre finally being honest with yourself.
âWell,â Jungwon shrugs, leaning back in the booth. The waitress comes around and drops off three milkshakes, vanilla for yourself, and chocolate for Jungwon and Yunjin. âMaybe it wouldnât hurt to try it out.â
Your eyebrows furrow, âTest it out?â You repeat, taking a small spoonful of whipped cream and stuffing it into your mouth. You'd always been a sucker for ice cream.
Jungwon nods, âThereâs a party tomorrow night to celebrate the hockey team's win last night. Sunghoon will obviously be there, and maybe you can test out what he does when itâs not just the two of you.â
Yunjin sucks in a sharp breath, âBut,â She draws, âSophia will be there too.â
Jungwon snaps his fingers, âMy point exactly.â
You arenât really understanding where heâs trying to go with this. âSo what?â
Jungwon continues, âWe donât really know if heâs still under the influence of the experiment,â He explains, nodding towards the duck, âthat changes things. So, I think we should see if his feelings are real or not at the party.â
Your lips twist in thought, âHow do you plan to do that?â You push. It's not that you don't understand what he's trying to say, it's just hard for your head to fully wrap around it.
He smiles then, that same mischievous smile heâd given you all those weeks ago when heâd initially suggested this whole disaster, and itâs then that you know you shouldnât listen to anything that comes out of his mouth.Â
âSimple,â He shrugs, taking a sip of his milkshake. âWe ask.â
Your lips part to respond, but your phone ringing in your pocket interrupts you. Beomgyuâs name flashes across the screen, bold white letters that usually bring you comfort, but strangely are now doing the opposite.
You clear your throat, âHello?â
Beomgyuâs voice sounds from the other side, exhausted and groggy, but heâs got that spark he always does when he says, âI did it.â
You glance up at Yunjin and Jungwon, stomach twisting low. âDid what?â
âI figured it out,â He swallows, âIâve got the cure or whatever weâre calling it.â
And while it should be relief that floods your chest, instead what youâre met with is a cold pinch of disappointment.
Youâd never been one for parties. Even now, dressed in some slim black dress Yunjin picked for you, a vial of something you arenât even sure works in your purse, youâre reminded just why you donât like them.
Theyâre overcrowded, filled with college students all looking to either pass out drunk or find someone to fuck until they forget why they were even there in the first place. It wasnât your crowd, and youâd found peace with that a long time ago.
And yet, you're still here.
Beomgyu nudges your shoulder, eyes searching around the crowd of sweaty bodies. He wasnât one for parties either, but when you explained to him just why you were coming, he insisted on joining. Of course, Yunjin and Jungwon had been ecstatic and you had to explain to them that you were not coming just to have a good time.
You were coming to find out the truth, and that was it.Â
âAre you sure heâs here?â Beomgyu asks.
You nod, âHe texted me earlier and invited me. Said heâd meet us here.â
Sunghoon had been slightly surprised but happy when you confirmed you already planned to come. Heâd told you he might get a little busy with people trying to talk to him, but heâd make sure to try and come find you at some point. You'd scoffed, in disbelief that you seemed to have to schedule a time to talk to him. You knew he was popular, but people here seriously treated him like some celebrity and not a normal college student.
Yunjin smiles next to you, plucking a drink from the countertop. She tips it back against her mouth and chugs it, wiping off the small droplet that spills from her lips.
Beomgyu makes a disgusted face, âYou donât even know where that came from.â
âDoes it matter?â She asks, grabbing another one and shoving it towards you, âIt all ends up in someone's stomach.â
You push her hand away and take a cautious step back. âIâm good, thanks.â
She just shrugs like sheâd been expecting that and hands it to Jungwon, who happily accepts it. âSuit yourself.â
You donât respond, instead unknowingly floating closer to Beomgyu. Your eyes rake along the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar head of black hair, but instead youâre met with the one person you didnât want to see.
Sophia is wearing a soft baby pink skirt and a white top that make her look like the picture of innocence, lips red and tempting. The guy sheâs flirting with clearly isnât immune to her strategy, because his eyes keep falling down to her soft neckline like heâs hoping heâll suddenly develop x-ray vision.
Normally, the sight of her wouldnât bother you. It really shouldnât considering you havenât interacted with her at all outside of the hockey incident. But, for some reason, all you can see when you look at her is Sunghoon.
Sunghoon looking at her like sheâd hung the moon and stars. Sunghoon dragging her to his games. Sunghoon fixing things for her simply because he didnât want her to be sad. Sunghoon telling her he loves her.
You have no right to feel it, but jealousy curls deep in your stomach.Â
You recognize the boy sheâs talking to. Jay, The hockey teams co-captain, and Sunghoons roommate. The same roommate who youâre assuming slept with Sophia.Â
You donât know any of the detailsânever thought it appropriate to ask, really. But you do know that if Sunghoon saw this, heâd probably be pissed. You wonder if thatâs why sheâs flirting with him so openly, because she wants Sunghoon to see. You wouldnât put it beneath her.
The night continues like that, with you and Beomgyu hanging around awkwardly while Yunjin and Jungwon drink until their vision goes blurry. You keep catching glimpses of Sophia, and each time sheâs talking to a different guy. A different pawn, actually.
You haven't even seen Sunghoon once, which is kind of strange considering this party is kind of for him. Youâd even texted him, a quick "you here?" and had gotten no reply.Â
The antidote feels heavy in your purse for reasons you canât exactly explain. You were going to give it to him tonight no matter what, youâd already decided that. Even if you found out that this entire thing meant more to him then you thought it did, you were going to give it to him. Your heart flutters in your chest at the thought, forcing yourself to bite back a smile.
You know you shouldnât get your hopes up, but itâs hard. The duck had to be proof that this whole thing wasnât just a massive fuck upâmaybe it was exactly what youâd needed to finally lead the both of you to each other.
And then, as if itâs fate throwing it in your face, you see Sunghoon.
Heâs laughing at something someone's saying, his cheeks flushed and hair falling over his forehead like heâd deliberately placed it there. He looks goodâbut when does he not?Â
You nudge Beomgyu (Yunjin and Jungwon are too busy on the dance floor) and nod your head towards the black-haired man.
Beomgyu exhales lowly and grips the strap of your bag. âNo matter what he says, he has to drink this.â He insists, âI know it might be easier to keep up with the lieââ
âI know,â You interrupt, placing your hand atop his. You give it a light squeeze, âNo matter the outcome, he has to drink it.â
Beomgyu physically exhales and then shoots you a small smile, âFor what itâs worth,â He murmurs, âI donât think you have anything to worry about.â
âYeah,â You reply, âNeither do I.â And you really mean it.
Sunghoon doesnât notice you approach at first, not until you push past one of his friendsâHeeseung, you think his name isâand his attention snaps to you.
The look he gives you isnât one youâre used to seeing from him. Itâs softer. Like light rain on a warm day. Like the beginning stages of a love that lasts a lifetime.
Every other time itâs been strong. Fierce. Like a house fire at its peak. But nowâŠnow it makes your heart melt just like it did when youâd seen him for the first time three years ago.
âHi,â You breathe.
âHi.â He replies.
His friends have dispersed now, leaving just you and him in the sea of bodies. The moonlight filters through the windows, reflecting across his face in a way that really should be illegal.
âYou came,â He says after a moment, but he doesnât sound surprised.
âI did.âÂ
The air crackles between you in a way it never has before. Real and raw and entirely strange. It should scare youâit does scare youâbut you lean into the feeling. Because if thereâs one thing youâve learned the past couple of weeks, itâs to embrace the fear.
You reach into your purse and pull out the vial. Itâs small, with a few drops of a see-through pink liquid that you donât think anyone should ever be drinking.
âI need you to do something for me,â You tell him, voice shaking slightly. Embrace the fear, you remind yourself. âI need you to drink this.â You say, pushing the vial towards him.
His eyes flicker down to it, and then back up to yours, and for a moment you think he looks guilty.
âLook, [Y/N]ââ
âHoonie!â Your blood feels like it goes cold. Sophia approaches from behind you, shoving past and making her way in front of you like werenât even there.Â
âI got your text,â She grins, voice sweet. But you know she knows what sheâs doing. You know sheâs doing it on purpose to upset you, but youâre not going to give her that satisfaction. âI knew it was only a matter of time before you came to your senses.â
Oh.
Your eyes widen slightly, something mean twisting in your stomach. Your heart feels heavy in a way that physically hurts. Of course. The experiment mustâve worn off, and he was trying to figure out the best way to tell you that he hadnât meant anything heâd said. Thatâs why the air between the two of you had been so different.
You look at the antidote in your hand, and suddenly it feels pointless. Beomgyu did all that work just for it to wear off on its own. But youâd promised that youâd get him to drink it no matter what, and you werenât planning on breaking that.
Sunghoon shakes his head, âSophia, thatâs not why I texted you.â He practically spits, âStop trying to spin this into something you know itâs not.â
She looks genuinely taken aback for a moment but recovers swiftly. âIâm not trying to do anything,â She laughs, but thereâs no humor in it. âYouâre the one who asked me to meet you, yes?â
His eyes flicker to yours, like heâs begging you to hear him out before you jump to conclusions. âI did, butââ
âThen what else am I supposed to assume? Unless,â She turns back to you then, finally acknowledging the fact that youâre there. The sneer on her face when she looks at you is nearly enough to make you feel small. âYou didnât want to say it in front of your rebound.â
Sunghoon visibly bristles, âSheâs notââ
But you've heard enough. âItâs fine,â you say, not letting him finish. You manage a small smile, but it feels like poison against your skin. âI just need you to drink this so we can make sure everything goes back to normal without any hiccups.â
You push it back towards him, but he refuses to take it. â[Y/N], just let me explain.â He begs.
âYou donât need to explain to me.â You reply, and you mean it. Youâd done the exact thing youâd been afraid of since the beginning, and that wasnât his fault. It wasnât his fault that youâd taken everything too seriously despite knowing it was all manufactured by your own hands. Heâd just been an accidental victim. âJust drink it and then we can pretend none of this ever happened.â
When you let your eyes meet his, it hurts so bad you think youâll collapse right there and then. He looks genuinely devastated, eyebrows pulled taut and lips parted. But you canât for the life of you understand why. He was getting what he wanted, right? He was getting Sophia back. He was getting his life back. And so were you.
So why does it feel like nothing will ever be the same again?
He looks like heâs going to protest again, but holds back. Whether itâs for his own sake or yours, you arenât sure.
He takes the vial from you with shaky hands, unscrewing the cap and swallowing it down in one gulp. He doesnât make a face, even though youâre sure it canât taste pleasant.
Once itâs done, you donât bother saying bye. You just nod at him and turn on your heel, ignoring the smirk you can practically feel growing on Sophiaâs face.
Sunghoon got what he wanted. So did you. Thatâs all that should matter.
But you still canât stop the tears from flooding your eyes.
You don't look for your friends, you just get out of there as fast as possible. You knew this would happen, it was exactly why you'd been so worrued at first. And you did exactly what you said you would, you got too involved. You let his words seep through the cracks in your walls instead of strengthening them.
And now you weren't sure they'd ever be fully put back together again.
You spend the next few days locked away in your dorm. You skip class, even though you know you shouldnât, and spend your time watching reruns of New Girl and eating bowls of Lucky Charms.
Usually, hiding away for a few days and letting yourself marinate in your ugly helps. But itâs been days since the party, and the ache in your chest hasnât subsided at all.
Sunghoon tried to text you once, just to check up on you since you hadnât shown up to class, but you didnât respond; just shut off your phone and shoved it in between the couch cushions.
Youâd known this would happen when it started. Knew youâd end up hurt, and the worst part was that it wasnât even anyoneâs fault. There was no one you could shift blame onto; no one you could justify being angry with.
Itâd all just spiraled out of control before you could fix it.
The following Monday you finally decide to suck it up and go to class. You werenât going to let a boy get in the way of your schooling, even if the thought of seeing him made you sick to your stomach. (Also because Yunjin had threatened to call your mom if you didnât show up again, and you really didnât want to have to deal with that.)
Your feet drag when you get there, head hanging low. Youâre expecting Sunghoon to have gone back to his spot before, but when you look up, heâs still in the chair next to yours. He looks different. Tired, almost. Like he hasnât gotten proper sleep in days. You doubt you look any better.
You approach cautiously, hoping and praying that he wonât try and say anything to you. Does he even remember everything that happened? Was memory loss a symptom? You werenât really sure, and you werenât that interested in finding out.
You feel his eyes on you when you sit down, pulling out your computer and crossing one leg over the other. Youâre hoping you look the picture of casual, not like your heart was just unknowingly crushed by the boy next to you.
Sunghoon, for what its worth, doesnât talk to you for the majority of the lesson. Just shakes his leg anxiously and sneaks not-so-subtle glances your way. He keeps biting his bottom lip like he wants to say something, but stops himself before he can. Truthfully, it takes everything in you to not look at him. Itâd be so easy to look into those brown eyes and remember everything heâd saidâto remember every almost-kiss and every i love you that spilled from his lips like oil spilling into an endless clear blue sea.
Itâd be so easy to pretend that nothing had changed between you. That the last two weeks had never happened and things were still how they were beforeâwhen he was the moon and you were the star blinking just for him, hoping for just a sliver of attention.
But, you know things will never be the same.Â
You barely even register the lesson ending, not until you feel Yunjin at your side. She mustâve known youâd need her support right now, and that much you can appreciate.
âYou good?â She mumbles, glancing over at Sunghoon. The lecture hall has begun to clear out now, only a few stragglers remaining. Everyone must be ready to get out of this weather.
You nod, but itâs not sincere. âYeah,â You manage, stuffing your laptop into your bag. It clinks against the glass duck softly, and your heart twists again. âIâm all good.â
Yunjin gives you a look that says she doesn't believe you, but she doesn't push. You stand, starting to make your way down the stairs and finally away from himâbut he stops you.
â[Y/N].â
You almost donât hear him at first, but youâd recognize that tone anywhere. The same one heâd used when he asked you to come to the rink with him. Insistence teetering on the edge of pleading, but there's something that underlines it. Something youâve been recognizing within yourself a little too much lately.
You make the mistake of turning to look at him, and your breath catches in your throat. That look in his eyes is one youâve seen before, the same one youâd convinced yourself meant nothing.
Pure, unfiltered, love.
Except now there isnât any experiment to fall back on.
âCan weâŠâ He glances back at Yunjin and clears his throat. âCan we talk?â
Everything inside of you screams at you to say noâto turn around and ignore the way your body feels like itâs being pulled towards him. Like the world has tilted on its axis and he is your only source of gravity.
Against your own will, you hear yourself say, âOkay.â
Youâve only ever felt genuine fear three times in your life.Â
That time in the second grade when your dad thought itâd be funny to take you on a roller-coaster despite your fear of heights, and youâd cried so hard you ended up throwing up onto the lady in front of you. Then, there was the time youâd accidently switched up a water bottle and literal acid your freshman year of college and watched as your professor drank one of the liquids (Itâd been the water, thank God). And, of course, the time you watched Sunghoon drink your experiment.
But now, standing in some empty corridor with Park Sunghoon, you think you might have to add this to the list.
Embrace the fear, you remind yourself.
He doesnât say anything for a long moment, just stares at you with this unreadable look in his eyes. His hands are shoved in his coat pockets, posture slightly slumped. He doesnât look like the put together golden-boy youâd fallen in love with. He looks more vulnerable; more like a person instead of an idea.Â
He sniffles and juts his chin towards the duck hanging off your bag, âYou arenât scared itâll break again?â He asks softly.
You glance down at the cracked glass, reaching out and holding it between your fingers. âI guess I wasnât worried,â You mumble, âBecause last time it shattered someone put it back together.â
You hear his breath catch at that, and he takes a small step towards you. Heâs close enough now that you can smell his cologne, can feel the ghost of his lips on the crown of your head.
âDo you know why I fixed it?â He asks.
You swallow, having to lift your head slightly to see him. âBecause youâre a nice person, Sunghoon.â You murmur, forcing yourself to take a small step back. Enough distance that his presence doesnât feel like itâs consuming your very soul. âYou wouldâve done it for anyone.â
He breathes out a disbelieving laugh, âThatâs not true.â
âWhat do you mean?â
His eyebrows knit together, âI know youâre smarter than that.â Even though his words are harsh, his tone is soft. Like he canât even conceptualize the concept of being upset with you. Like it's an emotion heâs never even experienced.
Heâs right, you are smarter than that. But last time you let yourself believe, youâd ended up exactly where you knew you would beâwith a broken heart and tear-stained cheeks.
âYou donât understand,â You manage, voice breaking slightly. âYou donât feel that for me. I know you donât.â
âHow do you know that?â
You pause, bottom lip finding itâs way between your teeth. âYouâve been with Sophia for so long, and Iâm just-just me. Sheâs beautiful and popular and I spend more time watching fucking Harry Potter with my friends then I do actually socializing andââ
Sunghoon cuts you off, voice level. âExactly.â
You blink. âWhat?â
âSure, Sophia is popular and objectively beautiful, but she isnât you.â
It takes you a moment to fully process what heâs saying. But still, all you can find in yourself to manage is a quiet, âWhat?â
He takes another step closer, enclosing in on your personal space like he's always belonged there. âShe isnât you.â He repeats.
Youâve only felt genuine fear four times in your life. But only once has it ever melted into something so genuineâsomething so raw and real that your heart has felt like it was bursting at the seams.
âThat night Jungwon shattered your duck, you said something. Do you remember what it was?â
You shake your head softly. All you remember from that night is how upset youâd been that itâd happened and trying to find it in yourself to forgive Jungwon.
Sunghoonâs lips twitch softly, âYou said you loved it because it was different. You said you didnât care that it was a little strange on the outside, because you knew it had a good heart.â
You donât even remember those words coming out of your mouth. Honestly, you donât even remember Sunghoon being close enough to hear them.Â
âI think thatâs when I fell in love with you,â He admits quietly. âI didnât know it at first, but it was there. Everytime you sat down in class and tried not to laugh at something Yunjin said, everytime I saw you and Jungwon studying at the library, I felt it.â He sucks in a breath, âAnd then I drank the experiment.âÂ
You shudder at the memory, lips twisting slightly in discomfort. Youâre expecting him to say that it made him realize his feelings for you werenât actually thereâthat this was all just an elaborately cruel way to reject you.
But then, without even blinking, he says, âBut it didnât work.â
Your world stops for a moment. Thereâs no way thatâs possible. Youâd seen him with your own two eyes acting like a fool to get your attention. Constantly following you around, texting you late into the night, tucking your hair behind your earâall things heâd done because the experiment gave him the confidence to. But, if that wasnât true and the experiment hadnât worked then that meant that all of it had been real. Thereâd never been any pretend. Thereâd never been any accidents.Â
Itâd all been real.
Your eyes widen, hands gesturing in front of you. âBut that doesnât make any sense.â You insist, âYou were acting like youâŠâ Love me. The words linger in the air, like mistletoe teasing you.
You think at first, part of you still didnât believe that he loved you even with him standing here pouring his heart out to you. It just didnât make any sense in your head. But now it was undeniable. It was a burning truth that had forced its way into the light without so much as apologizing.
âBecause I do,â He murmurs, âAnd maybe it was stupid to go about it this way. I wonât argue with you on that. But, can you blame me? Do you know how hard it was to approach you?â
You scoff, âMe? What about you? And what about Sophiaââ
He shakes his head, âThatâs done. Has been for a long time now. Thatâs why I texted her at the party, I wanted to make sure she finally got it through her head that there was nothing there.â
âOh.â
Sunghoon chuckles, voice deep and soft. âYeah,â he mumbles. âOh.â
You look up at him now, into those swimming pools of chestnut. His pupils are slightly dilated, light reflecting off of his irises in a way that looks serene. The air around you fills with a soft tension, one that youâd have to focus on to even really notice.
You donât miss the way his eyes glance down at your lips, silently asking for a permission youâd given him years ago.
He leans in closer, breath warm against your lips. âI really want to kiss you right now,â He murmurs. Your skin tingles when his fingers brush the apple of your cheek, before cupping it softly.
You lean into him, reaching a hand up to cover his own. âWhatâs stopping you?â
He smiles, a big toothy grin that shows off his canines, and then leans forward slowly.
It isnât really a kiss at first, more like he's just lingering there, letting your breaths intermix. His hand travels from your cheek to the side of your neck, gently holding you in place.
And then he surges forward, mouth moving against yours like heâs trying to memorize you. Heâs gentle, holding you like youâre something fragileâlike heâs terrified youâll disappear if he pushes too hard.
He pulls away slowly, grinning from ear to ear like heâs just won the lottery. âYou have no idea how bad I've wanted to do that.â
You giggle, heat crawling up your stomach and swirling around your cheeks. âMaybe you should do it again just to make sure it sticks.â
Sunghoon doesnât hesitate then. His hand finds your waist and pulls you into him, lips colliding with yours in a way that makes your head spin. You think colors swirl behind your eyes, but you canât find it in yourself to care.
âI love you,â Sunghoon murmurs against your lips, âI love the way your nose scrunches when youâre focused,â He kisses the tip of your nose. âI love how kind you are even when people donât deserve it,â Another one to your cheek. âI love that youâre unapologetically you.â
Your heart stutters, laughter bubbling out of your chest uncontrollably.Â
âYou sure it isnât because you accidentally drank a love potion?â You tease, reaching a hand up to tangle in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.
He huffs, finally pulling away so he can get a good look at you. âI donât think Iâd need a love potion to find my way to you.â He says, voice so sincere it nearly makes tears spring to your eyes.
So, yeah. The thing about Biochemistry is that itâs extremely difficult and sometimes shows you that maybe you should let your curiosity remain exactly thatâcuriosity.
But sometimes, if youâre lucky, it can lead you to exactly where youâre supposed to go.
Sunghoons hand traces down your arm until it finds your hand, and he easily intertwines your fingers like he was always supposed to fit there. âLet me take you home?â
For the first time, you see no reason to argue. No reason to protect your heart or turn him away. So, without a single protest, you say, âOkay.â
You arenât sure exactly how it happened. One minute Sunghoons walking you home, smiling like a kid in a candy store, and the next heâs kissing you like heâll die if he isnât touching you. Your apartment door shuts softly behind you, leaving just the two of you in your space.
You remember the last time heâd been in here, how heâd kissed the crown of your head with tender care. Heâd seemed nervous then, like the action was scandalous. Now, it was nearly the opposite.
He isnât rough, no, heâs deliberate. Fingertips tracing across the curve of your waist, teasing against the hem of your shirt. He kisses you like youâre the oxygen he needs to survive, like he's an addict and your lips are his fix.
It steals your breath away and breathes the air into your lungs all at once.
âTell me to stop and I will.â He grunts against you, hands tugging at your waist and pulling you closer against him until youâre flush against his body.Â
âSunghoon,â You gasp when you feel the growing bulge in his pants brush against your thigh. âDonât you ever stop.â
Thatâs all it takes before heâs tapping your thigh once and lifting you into his arms. His hands take up half your thighs, kneading the skin as he carries you to your bedroom. Youâre giggling the whole way there, hearts in your eyes and cheeks flushed.
He places you down on the bed gently, your hair fawning out around you like a halo. He sucks in a breath and crawls over you, eyes trained on your face. His knuckles brush your cheek, and you lean into it on pure instinct.
âYouâre so beautiful,â He murmurs, voice tender. âCanât believe youâre letting me love you.â
You smile, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. âThereâs no one in this world for me except for you, Park Sunghoon.â
He grins, burying his face in the nape of your neck like heâs embarrassed. âYeah?â
âYeah,â You answer, not even having to second guess yourself. âIâm so in love with you it hurts.â
He whines at your words, lips tracing across the skin of your neck, the length of your jaw, the space behind your ear, tongue darting out occasionally to mark you as his.
He tugs gently at your shirt and you arch your back so he can pull it over your head and toss it across the room, but it gets stuck on your elbow and he has to tug it loose. You laugh when it finally comes off, your hair falling in places it isnât supposed to.
Sunghoon giggles and pecks your lips. âYouâre making this difficult," he teases.
You just shrug and settle back down, ignoring the way his fingers trail over your bare stomach and pop open the button of your jeans. âI have to make you work for it.â
He smirks, devilish and no longer with any of that boyishness heâd had earlier. âYeah, baby?â He whispers, voice husky. âWant me to beg you to let me taste you?â
Your breath hitches, bottom lip finding its way in between your teeth. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore.Â
He unzips your jeans and slowly drags them down your legs, tossing them to the floor and out of sight. âWant me to beg you to let me fuck you?â He continues.
You whimper, the sound escaping you without your permission. Youâd be lying if you said the idea of Sunghoon on his knees for you doesnât make something burn deep in your belly, but the thought of admitting that to him make your nerves spike with embarrassment.
He chuckles, sinking down to his knees until his face is level with your cunt. You canât help but squirm in place, because even though your panties still cover you, you feel completely exposed. If you wouldâve known this was going to happen today, you wouldâve worn something much cuter. Not your days of the week pantied and an old bra that was a pathetic excuse for lacy.Â
Sunghoons breath ghosts against your growing slick, and you know your panties are already damp. âYou gonna let me touch you, baby?â He asks.
You nod your head insistently, hips searching for any kind of relief. He just chuckles and places a hand on your tummy to hold you down. âNeed to hear you say it.â He murmurs. You can feel his lips brushing against your core, his nose nudging in the junction of your hip. Heâs so close to giving you what you want, but he wonât. Not until he hears it coming from your own lips.
âPlease,â You gasp. Your own voice sounds so needy, completely foreign to your own ears. âWanâ you to touch me, Hoon.â
He groans, but immediately obliges. He doesnât devour you at first, just lets his tongue lick small little kitten licks over your panties. You jump at the feeling, but he uses his spare hand to grip your hip and hold you down.Â
Heâs messy with it, even when heâs being gentle. He licks you open until youâre teary eyed and your panties are so drenched they look nearly see-through. He just sighs dreamily, like heâs enjoying some five-star meal and not like heâs eating you out like his life depends on it.
Pretty soon though you get over feeling everything without actually feeling it, because yes, it feels fucking insaneâbut you want to actually feel his lips against your bare folds. Want to feel him suck against your clit while his fingers get you ready to take him. Itâs just actually admitting that thatâs the hard part.
âSunghoon,â You whine, hips stuttering slightly. âStop teasing me.â
He pulls off of you, tongue darting out to lick his lips. âIâm not teasing you, baby.â He chuckles, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin of your hip.Â
You huff, âYou are.â
He raises a brow and begins to stand, and your stomach immediately drops. âYou want me to stop then?â
âNo!â You cry, shaking your head furiously. âGod, no, donât-donât stop.â
He nods slowly, finding his place on his knees in front of you once again. âThen be a good girl and tell me what you want.â
It shouldn't be as embarrassing as it is. Youâre a twenty-something year old woman with a sparkling GPA and enough experience under your belt that asking for something like this should be easy. But Sunghoons looking at you so tenderly, his hair a slight mess and eyes fucked out without even having been touched, and youâre finding it difficult to get the words out.
âI wantâŠâ You suck in a shaky breath, forcing your gaze to the ceiling. âI want you to eat me out. Properly.â
He grins and presses a chaste skin to the inside of your thigh. âSee?â He hums, âthat wasnât so hard was it?â
You don't bother giving him a response, because heâs already pulling your panties off your legs and plunging back in like a man starved. His lips wrap around your clit and suck the bud into his mouth, causing your back to arch and a loud moan to fall from your lips.
He doesnât stop after that, licking and sucking with such expertise you wonder how Sophia could ever want anything else. She had all this and genuinely thought she was going to get better? What a fucking joke.
âS-Sunghoonââ You gasp, fingers tightening into fists in his hair. He groans when you tug lightly, and you swear you see his hips roll against nothing.Â
The hand on your belly travels down until he reaches your fluttering hole, gently pushing his middle finger inside of you. The stretch isnât intense, more like just a subtle pressure between your hips, but itâs drowned out by the stimulation against your clit.
His fingers arenât abnormally large, but they are long. So long he finds your g-spot with ease and curls his finger against it until you swear youâre seeing stars. You let out a choked whimper, hips stuttering against him.
He seems to take that as a good sign because heâs slipping another finger inside now, intensifying the stretch and making your eyes roll back. His fingers move in tandem with his tongue, licking and thrusting until your vision starts to blur at the corners. Youâre close, you know itâcan feel it tightening deep in your stomach.
âGonna-gonna cum, fuck, mâcummingââ
Sunghoon hums, and the vibrations are exactly what you need to reach your peak. Your back bows off the bed, mouth falling open and eyes squeezing shut. You release with a silent cry of his name. He fucks you through it, and you can feel his eyes on you as he does. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, the way your legs shake slightly with aftershocks. Heâs studying this image of you, fucked out and empty-headed, like heâs committing it to memory.
When he finally pulls away your vision is slowly starting to come back to you. You barely register him maneuvering to come up next to you until you watch him rid himself of his shirt and you come face-to-face with the hard plains of his chest. His skin is soft and milky, the soft lines of his abs rising and falling as he takes in breaths of air.Â
You reach for him and he complies, falling over you until youâre chest to chest. You donât waste any time before youâre kissing him again. You can taste the saltiness of your own slick on his lips, but you donât careâinstead, you kiss him deeper.
His tongue slips until your mouth, brushing against your own. Itâs wet and gross and fucking perfect. âSunghoon,â You manage between pants, âFuck me.â
A beat passes as his eyes find yours, âYeah?â
You nod, and thatâs all the answer he needs. He wastes no time ridding himself of his pants and lining himself up with your entrance. He pushes in slowly, taking in every expression you make like heâs scared heâll hurt you. And, yeah, heâs big. Like, bigger than anything youâve ever taken. But the stretch is also perfect, filling you so completely your eyes nearly roll back.
âFuck, youâre warm,â He mumbles, words slurring together. He sounds drunk on you.Â
When he bottoms out, you swear youâre seeing soundwaves and hearing colors. His tip nudges against that spot in you perfectly, curved at just the right angle.
He takes a moment to let you adjust, but you can tell heâs holding himself back. His fingers drip the sheets with effort, bottom lips in between his teeth. You roll your hips once, testing the waters, and the pleasure that floods through you forces a moan out of the both of you.
âDonât do that,â He says breathily, voice on the verge of collapse. âFuck.â
It takes a second, but his hips slowly start to push into yours. His thrusts are shallow at first, just little pushes that help you to accommodate his size, but itâs not long before they turn rougher.
He pulls out halfway just to slam back in, and your breath actually gets ripped from your lungs. Stars swim behind your eyes as he finds his pace, âFuck,â You breathe.
Sunghoon gasps, burying his face in your neck. âI love you,â He groans, âFuck, I love this pussy. I love the way you sound. Love the way you fucking feel. Youâre perfect,â He babbles.
You part your lips to reply, but all that comes out is a sob when he thrusts particularly hard. You tighten instinctively around him, and he falters for a split-second before heâs finding his tempo again.
He fucks you like youâve been denying him for years, like heâs spent every night dreaming of this. Tears of pleasure begin to streak across your cheeks; each he kisses away without so much as a hum.
Itâs so intimate, so perfect, so full of love that you donât even notice youâre approaching your climax until it crashes over you.
âFuck, just like that,â Sunghoon whimpers, reaching down and rubbing light circles over your clit. âYouâre so perfect. Such a good fucking girl. My good girl.â And then heâs releasing inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your insides.
He stays inside of you after he comes, both of you panting hard, sweat and fluids leaking from your bodies. He eventually pulls out and lays down next to you, his arm across your middle.
Youâre silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts. You just had Sex with Park Sunghoon. Not only that, but Park Sunghoon is in love with you. Heâd said it enough times tonight for you to finally really believe it.
âYou okay?â He asks softly, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The gentleness in which he treats you now is such a stark contrast to the brutalness of which he just fucked you that you nearly laugh.
âYeah,â You hum, voice a bit raspy. âIâm perfect.â
Sunghoon grins and pulls you into him. He kisses you again, but there arenât any intentions behind it. Instead, itâs slow and sweet, like heâs hoping to convey every emotion heâs ever felt into the kiss.
âGood,â he says, pulling away slightly. âBecause Iâm going to remind you of how much I love you as much as I can.â
You laugh, âAre you asking to fuck me again?â
He shakes his head, âNo,â He whispers, âIâm asking if I can make love to you again.â
And it doesnât take much for you to say yes.
Youâve been dating Park Sunghoon for nine months and fourteen days. Nine months of hockey games, late night study session, and weekly dates (all of which he insisted he pay for). Nine months of surprise gifts, of sweet words, and daily reminders of just how lucky you are to have him.
Yunjin groans next to you, typing away furiously on her phone. âI canât believe this is happening again!â She whines.
âI told you that a man you met on snapchat quick add wasnât going to end up the love of your life.â Beomgyu sings knowingly, shoveling popcorn in his mouth.
âFor what it's worth, he really wasnât even that cute.â Jungwon adds.
She shoots him a glare, âShut up, you donât know what youâre talking about. Jiung was fucking beautiful and now heâs ghosting me!â
You shiver slightly, watching Sunghoon glide on the ice. Heâs instructing his teammates to do something; you arenât really sure. Heâd tried to explain the rules of hockey to you months ago, but your brain was very clearly made for science and not sports.
âTry not to worry about it, Yunjin,â you say sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on her back. âYou just havenât met your person yet.â
She scoffs, gesturing at your shirt. âEasy for you to say when youâre already practically married to, like, the most perfect guy on the planet!â
You glance down at what youâre wearingâa blue jersey with the number 23 sprawled in the middle. Sunghoons hockey number.
You would argue with her, maybe try to make her feel better, but your eyes lock with Sunghoons across the rink for just a moment, and you stop yourself.
Because, well, sheâs right. You did get lucky. You glance down at the duck hanging off of your bag, the very thing that had unknowingly started this entire thing.
âYeah,â You shrug, âYouâre right.â
And when you go home that night, listening to Sunghoon ramble about scoring the winning goal, you know that there's nowhere else you'd rather be.
thank you guys so much for reading đ„Č this story took everything out of me but iâm mostly happy with how it came out. ily guys <3
taglist: @chyssly @hoonarchives @hearteubeateuxz @yufawnz @areikii @wobblymug @rikipepitos @jk5t4r @somieverse @nishimurasona @psychicdazestrawberry @isa942572 @lawjakesim @mae-f1 @12e45 @wichujunseo @holacsh @vissnipherwifeey @enhypenlovre @karynnoona @yenienha @tessa365 @kristynaaah @min9lam7 @tombraiderjones2505 @livonianmaia @betagalactose @lac4ygal @enhainurheart @tiramisuhn @caratcakemoa @teenagecheesecakereview @filthxyy @dr1diot @mcwilla @jaeyundazed
sorry if i missed anyone in the tag list!
crawling back to you â jungwon yang
â spiderman! jungwon x fem! reader â summary: spider-man was the city's strongest hero: a crime-fighter, a man of the people, and... a loverboy? it's been months since jungwon, the identity behind the powerful spider-man persona, broke up with you. somehow, even with the entire city's fate resting on his shoulders, his biggest concern still remains whether or not he will ever get to see you again. â genre: spider-man! au, exes to lovers, JUNGWON YEARNINGGG, slooooow burn, college! au, jealousy, angst, pining, SEXUAL TENSION & YEARNING â word count: 24.4k words â my long awaited... im sorry guys i was genuinely going through hell and back when i was writing this but its okay papa vanya pulled through, for my dearest @ashtxrie
Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, bated breaths tearing from his lips.
Not again, he thought to himself, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He could feel his loose t-shirt sticking to his skin, the heat from under his blanket too sweltering to endure that he had to throw it off of him. His cat-like eyes flickered to the window beside his bed. The moon gleamed so charmingly, streaming bright slivers of light through his window. And yet, all Jungwon could do is shiver into his hot skin.
Itâs been almost 6 months since Jungwon broke up with you. 6 months since heâs been genuinely happy.
And for the past 6 months, Jungwon has been having the same nightmare every night. The nightmare that ended the same way no matter what Jungwonâs brain wired itself to conjure up: with you dying in his arms.
Jungwon shuddered. It was the middle of summer. Even when it was late in the depths of night, beads of cold sweat managed to find their way back onto Jungwonâs neck. Sitting up on his bed, his knees pressed against his chest, Jungwonâs heart pounded in his ribcage, so loud that he could hear it in his ears, yet his fear was so quiet in his heart.
His eyes flickered around his dark bedroom. He needed to call you, he thought. Images of your dying face, choked sobs, and teary voice flooded his memory. It made Jungwonâs eyes line with hot tears, as they always did whenever this nightmare returned to him. He needed to call you, to make sure that you were okay, that his greatest fears hadnât come true.
Jungwon's hand, still trembling, reached out for his bedside table. If he ignored the empty coffee cups cluttered on it, or the way he had hundreds of ignored messages and call notifications, he would have slowed down. And just as he searched up your name in his contacts, his shaking fingers about to call you, he stopped.
Oh right. Heâs not with you anymore.
6 months is a long time. Apparently not long enough for Jungwon to forget his feelings for you.
If his chest wasnât already aching, it was now. It was him that broke up with you. It was him that chose to break your heart. It was him that chose to leave you crumbling to your knees, tears spilling from your eyes as you silently begged him to stay.
And maybe that was his biggest regret.
Jungwon stared at his hands. He gazed each callous on his palm, every single scar and scratch still evident on his skin. His eyes glazed over the black spider-like veins on his wrists.
No, there was no time to mull over you. Not when there was an imminent threat in this city. Slapping his cheeks awake, Jungwon huffed before climbing out of bed. There was no way he would be able to fall asleep anyway. He might as well distract himself with something productive. Start early.
His eyes fluttered back to his moonlit window. Ah, fuck it.
Jungwon had a secret.
A secret that he kept guarded day in and day out, like his life depended on it. And the truth was, his life did depend on it.
Ignoring the way the red and blue spandex felt particularly uncomfortable as it stuck to his still-sweaty skin, Jungwon shot a sticky white web at a building. He gazed at the web that had ejected from his wrist, before peering over the ledge. In this busy city, it seemed like no road was ever going to be completely empty, not even in the depths of night. There were still people roaming the streets, noisy cars honking at one another with their tires screeching.
You hated heights, was the resounding thought that clouded his head as he looked down to the city below him. Once again, Jungwon's heart tightened in his chest, and he shook his head.
He needed to stop thinking about you. You probably already stopped caring about him anyway. You're a pretty girl, even before you and him broke up there was already a line of guys waiting for you to be single. Jungwon wouldn't be surprised if a girl like you already found someone else.
Someone better. Someone that wasn't a damn coward like Jungwon was.
Jungwon let his eyes fall shut, relishing in the way that the cool summer night air brushed against him. It's hard. To let you go, to accept that what once was his could be someone else's.
He looked back down to his gloved hands, the same hands that have been fighting crime for the past 6 months, the same hands that were responsible for the safety of this city, the same hands that touched your pretty face, the same hands that have brought criminals to justice.
It was all blurring together. Jungwon dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He needed to let you go, before his mind devoured him. He needed to let you go, before his identity as Spider-Man, the number one crime-fighter in this city, gets inevitably revealed, and he has to witness you die for the hundredth time. But for real this time.
"Damn, you look like shit."
Jungwon rolled his eyes at his friend's comment, sighing loudly as he flipped through the pages of his textbook. "Didn't get much sleep last night."
Look, Jungwon is a college student. Although his Spider-Man gig was pretty good at paying him, he wanted to contribute to his community in another way. Like through tutoring the local kids.
"Why are you even studying basic elementary algebra?â you're a film major!" Jungwon's good friend Sunghoon Park was a great guy. A little rambunctious, but still a good friend. But not right now.
Jungwon had agreed to have a quote un-quote "study date" with Sunghoon at the coffee shop below Jungwon's apartment complex. Jungwon was a little proud that his friend suddenly wanted to study with him (such intellectual vitality!), but seeing as all Sunghoon has been doing for the past 30 minutes is scrolling on his phone and looking around conspicuously tells Jungwon otherwise. Sunghoon didn't even order a coffee or soak in the scent of warm coffee beans in the coffee shop. He just sat there.
Jungwon shot a look at Sunghoon. "This kid that I'm tutoring, apparently he's not very good at math."
Sunghoon nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as his thick brows quivered.
"Okay..." he said slowly, his vowels drawing out. "But why do you need to study for it? Don't you likeâ" the man made a faceâ "Already know how to do basic math?"
Jungwon opened his mouth to explain that he's not necessarily trying to review elementary math, but moreso trying to figure how to teach it, but he was cut off by Sunghoon's continued rambling.
"âLike shouldn't you know how to add apples? Like if Sally has 2 apples and she gets 3 more, how many does she..." Sunghoon trailed off when he saw Jungwon's completely vacant, unamused expression. Jungwon clicked his tongue, going back to his very informative reading. However, he could practically feel Sunghoon staring at him, to the point that it felt like he was burning holes into Jungwon's person.
Jungwon let out another annoyed sigh. When he looked up to Sunghoon very obviously staring at him, his friend comically looked away. As if Sunghoon was fooling anyone.
"Do I have three heads?" Jungwon asked bluntly.
"What?"
Jungwon huffed, leaning back in his seat. "You keep looking at me. What is it?"
Sunghoon blinked. Jungwon watched as his older friend's Adam's apple bobbed. The once relaxed, though awkward, expression on Sunghoon's face wiped almost immediately, being replaced with a deeply uncomfortable and uneasy one. He squirmed in his seat, his dark eyes darting around the coffee shop in silence.
"Are you okay?"
But instead of answering, Sunghoon just shoved his face into his hands, muttering something under his breath that Jungwon couldn't make out.
Finally, Sunghoon finished his mini-mental breakdown and looked at Jungwon. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes Sunghoon went from looking perfectly fine to looking like he just went through hell.
"Jungwon." Sunghoon finally said, his voice solemn. Which was weird, because when is Sunghoon ever serious? To add to Jungwon's bewilderment, Sunghoon reached across the table, taking hold of Jungwon's hands. His expression was so comically somber that Jungwon thought he was joking. "I have something to tell you."
Jungwon rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting. "Yeah, yeah, get on with your little bitâ"
"I"m serious." Sunghoon looked around again, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. He leaned in closer to Jungwon, his voice dropping to as low as a whisper. "It's serious."
Jungwon's brows knitted together, his expression pinching in pure confusion. "What are you talking abouâ"
Sunghoon squeezed Jungwon's hand from across the table. His friend took a deep breath, before earnestly facing Jungwon. "What I'm about to tell you, you didn't hear it from me."
"Justâ" Jungwon's scowl deepened. "Just tell me already, dude!"
Usually Sunghoon would react, but he just shook his head solemnly. Sunghoon took another deep breath, before he opened his mouth and let words tumble out: "She has a blind date. This weekend."
Jungwon blinked slowly. "Um. Who?"
Sunghoon looked like he was going to shit himself. "You know...."
Jungwon didn't know. Jungwon literally does not talk to anyone except a select few of his friends. And none of them are girls. "I don't, though...?"
Sunghoon sucked in another sharp breath, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. "Your... Your girl."
Oh. Jungwon's heart sank to his stomach. That's not... what he expected. Not in the slightest. And the way that Sunghoon physically flinched as he revealed such information didn't make Jungwon feel any better.
"Who... told you that?"
Sunghoon pressed his lips together, forming a line as thin as paper. "You know my coworker? Wonyoung? She's [Name]'s good friend and she's been boasting how she hooked her up to this guy."
But Jungwon tuned Sunghoon out after that. Maybe if Jungwon had a better grip he would have calmly explained that you were not his anymore. Itâs not like your breakup was a secret, and if there was anyone who had to bear witness to Jungwon's abject gloominess, it would be Sunghoon. Jungwon couldn't understand why his friends still referred to you as his, even when they were well-aware of the fact that you two were separated.
"C'mon, man, we all know you still want her," was a sentiment echoed by all of his friends.
And they were right. As if they could see through Jungwon's quiet exterior, his robotic composure so keen on hiding his true feelings.
Sunghoon's words fell upon deaf ears. If he did listen, he would hear Sunghoon pleading Jungwon to let go of this act, to stop putting up walls, to finally admit that he was wrecking himself from the inside out by continuing to act like he no longer cared for you.
Jungwon stared blankly at the coffee shop table. The pain in his chest no longer felt new. It felt more like a constant.
In his pencil case he still had the expensive mechanical pencil that you gifted him. Its silver ridges were practically molded to the curves of his fingers. The capsule of lead that came with the pencil only had a few pieces left. When he studied he still listened to the same songs that you introduced to him, the same songs that you and him kissed to as the two of you laid in his bed, andâ
Jungwon thought he was okay. And for the first few weeks, he really was just fine. After all, he'd convinced himself that it was all for the better. But Jungwon knew that he'd break sooner or later. And it would be now.
It seemed like in every waking moment, you still managed to consume his thoughts.
All roads led back to you.
As Jungwon swung from building to building, he tried his best to clear his mind. As he always did.
After his little coffee chat (disaster?) with Sunghoon, Jungwon had excused himself to go to some "work." When really, he was just reporting for duty as Spider-Man. Feeling the wind against him as he swung around the city, the thrill of nearly flying through the air, was always useful whenever Jungwon had a lot on his mind. Like always, Jungwon checked his usual stops: banks, daycares, financial and business centers, just to make sure that no one was rumpling with civilians' safety.
Lately, it hasn't really been working. But what did he expect?
The bright summer sun, blaring its orange-yellow light, was now dipping into the horizon. The air smelled like gasoline and peaches, and yet, Jungwon couldn't even relish in the tranquility. Jungwon didn't know why he kept thinking about you. The thought of you going on a date at all with someone else made him feel sick to his stomach. His gut twisted as images of you laughing and smiling flashed through his mind. It hurt so bad, so damn bad.
A few more times of helping kids cross the road, or giving an elderly person some directions, and Jungwon felt like his legs were going to give out. Which was strange.
As Spider-Man, Jungwon was cursed with enhanced senses and incredible regeneration abilities. Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Jungwon never had to experience feeling physically worn out.
Not until right now. Jungwon slumped against the wall in the back alley, the cool stone pressing against his cheek. He looked down at his handsâ was he sick? Losing his abilities? Seriously, what was wrong with him? His body was feeling uncharacteristically warm, like he was burning up from the inside. His eyelids felt heavy, while his legs felt like jelly.
And maybe Jungwon would have passed out in that alleyway if it weren't for the god-awful sound of his cellphone ringing.
Kriiiing! Kriiiing! Mindlessly, he picked up the call. "Hello?" Jungwon breathed, pushing nearly all of his body weight against the cold wall for support. He laid his head back, exhausted in ways that he couldn't explain.
A familiar voice greeted his ears. "Hey, it's Sunghoon."
Jungwon gritted his teeth. Not again. "I'm not interestedâ"
"Listen." Sunghoon said, his voice earnest. "I'm sorry about what I said today, butâ"
Jungwon's lips pressed together. How shameful. It must be so shameful, the fact that everyone knew that Jungwon was suffering so much, that it was so obvious.
"âMe and the guys are going out this weekend," Sunghoon's gravelly voice said over the phone. "And we thought that you should really come with us."
Without even realizing it, Jungwon's breath got caught in his throat. He swallowed the lump, his voice coming out so much weaker than he wanted it to, "Like I said, I'm not interestedâ"
"Jungwon," Sunghoon pleaded. "You... You haven't been yourself lately. We know that you're struggling right nowâwe're worried about you. Please, just let us be there for you."
Jungwon felt so humiliated. Ashamed even, at the way Sunghoon's voice was filled with so much sympathy. So much pity.
Jungwon wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at Sunghoon and all of his friends for not minding their damn business, for treating him like he was some charity case.
But as Jungwon's eyes traced his shadow on the road, his phone to his ear, Jungwon wanted to shout at himself, for being so weak, for being a coward, for pushing people away, for having an ego so fragile that he felt threatened by his own friend caring about him.
How pathetic. And Jungwon has the gall to call himself a hero?
Jungwon clicked his tongue. "Okay, I'll be. there."
Jungwon wasn't stupid.
He knew exactly why his friends called him out tonight. It was to distract him from the fact that on this same night, you'd be going on your date.
The plan was to all meet up at Jake's apartment, and then go to the club from there. The moment that he arrived at Jake's apartment, he scurried to the bathroom.
Jungwon stared into Jake's bathroom mirror. The entire cramped bathroom smelled like strong fumes of manly cologne and hair spray. From inside, he could hear the muffled bantering of his friends, probably arguing about who would be driving.
His eyes glazed over the tight black compression shirt that clung to his chest, the dark-washed ripped jeans hanging from his hips. It's been a while since Jungwon utilized his pierced ears, and he figured that he'd put in some simple flat black studs before the piercings inevitably closed up. On his wrist, Jungwon had mindlessly slipped on the braided tassel bracelet that you made him; it was still hanging around his room, and he had forgotten that it was from you. Despite that, he didn't have the heart to take it off and shove into his pocket.
Jungwon couldn't recognize himself. It wasn't just the breakup that ruined him.
Sure, losing you was probably one of the greatest losses in his entire life, he was sure of that. But since then, Jungwon has also purposely distanced himself from his friends. He stopped responding to their messages and going to big group outings.
He could hear Jay's howling laughter and Jake's shouting, all sounds that should be completely familiar to him. And yet, there he was, feeling awkward.
He felt like staying in this bathroom until someone noticed that he was absent.
Click! But that wasn't what Spider-Man's do.
Jungwon cracked the bathroom door open, and the moment that he stepped into the hallway, revealing his blank expression, all of his friends whipped their heads. Jungwon could feel their eyes on him, staring at him like he was some anomaly, and for a second, he regretted even agreeing to hang out with them.
He hadn't seen these guys all together in so long. In fact, Jungwon hadn't been in a personal group setting for months now. He wasn't going to lie and say that showing his face to the friends that he strayed away from made him feel uneasy.
But almost immediately, his friends' faces cracked with large grins, whooping his name.
"Jungwon!" Jake delighted as Heeseung threw an arm around Jungwon's shoulder, pulling him snugly to the side of him.
Jay's sharp features morphed into a big, boyish smile, his lips forming a curve. Jay brought up a hand to dap Jungwon up, and Jungwon received it. "Hey, man."
Sunghoon followed behind him, his sharp canine teeth revealing as he chuckled. "Glad you could make it, Jungwon."
Jungwon felt unnatural. Out of place, like a fish out of water. When was the last time he was around people that enjoyed his presence? Other than the group of middle schoolers that cheered him on when he dashed through the air, or the middle aged women at the local library club that doted on him, Jungwon couldn't remember clearly.
For all the months that Jungwon tore himself away from his friends, he didn't know what was more surprising, that his friends still wanted something to do with him, or that nothing had changed while he was gone.
Sunoo's eyes still pressed into thin crescents as he threw his head back, laughing at something stupid Riki said. Heeseung still pulled Jungwon into a headlock, aggressively scruffling his head and ruining his hair despite Jungwon's complaints. Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon still liked to argue loudly, their voices reaching volumes so high that Jungwon was sure they'd get a noise complaint before even leaving.
And as Jay and Sunghoon wrestled, falling onto Jake's couch, the room erupted with the same familiar howling laughter and quips that Jungwon had forgotten how much he loved.
As Riki jumped in to join in the pseudo-wrestling match, Sunoo chanting "fight, fight, fight!," and Heeseung and Jake acting as refs, Jungwon gaped at the scene.
The boys that he's grown up with, the boys that had seen him grow from a wimpy little middle schooler into a strong adult, the boys that never failed to make him laughâ have stayed the exact same.
And for the first time in a while, Jungwon felt his lips lift up, soft giggles erupting from his chest as his eyes squeezed shut. It was such a foreign feeling, and an even more foreign sound.
His friends seemed to think the same. In an instant, the room fell silent. Once again, Jungwon felt all eyes on him.
But before Jungwon's mind could play tricks on him, Riki dashed over to him, throwing the older boy over his shoulder and throwing him on the couch.
"You son of bitch, Jungwon!" Riki laughed affectionately, beginning a tickling assault on him.
Once again, Jake's apartment was engulfed in chaos and laughter.
Well, after being tickled so hard that he almost started crying, as well as a well-deserved noise complaint from Jake's neighbors, Jungwon and his friends finally decided to go to the club. Which was their plan all along, but it wasn't any of their faults that messing around in Jake's home was more fun. And plus, Jungwon accidentally used too much of his spider abilities and body slammed Riki so hard that they all needed a momentary time-out to get Riki an ice pack for his head ("How the hell did you get so strong?!" was what Riki was more concerned about than the giant red mark on his forehead).
Bright strobing lights, the smell of sweaty bodies and alcohol, and the sound of techno music filled all of Jungwon's senses.
And with the encouragement of his rowdy, unruly friends, Jungwon sucked in sharp breath.
Fuck it.
Whatever worries he had now, or whoever was breaking his heart, he was going to forget it. He was going to pretend that it never existed, that it never hurt him, that he was okay.
Just for tonight, just for his friends.
"C'mon!" Jake pulled Jungwon by his arm to the bar. The older boy ordered the two of them a few shots. As they waited for the bartender to prepare their drinks, Jake and Jungwon sat on the barstools. In the corner of Jungwon's eyes, he could see his other friends fucking around like they always did.
"Would it hurt them to have some class?" Jungwon muttered playfully, unable to hide his amusement when Heeseung slipped and fell on the dance floor.
"Nah, class is a foreign concept to them." Jake let a bashful smile spread on his face, his gelled hair falling over his eyes. The older man tapped his fingers on the bar counter to the electric music loudly blasting.
Jungwon grinned, and the two sat in a comfortable silence, before Jake opened his mouth again.
"We missed having you around, you know."
Jungwon whipped his head over to his friend. He quirked a brow. "Really?"
Jake put a hand on the back of his neck, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. "Yup." Jungwon followed his eyes, back to their friends that were now teasing Jay for his wild dance moves. "I think you're the smartest out of all of us."
"That's not true."
Jake shook his head. "Nah, you should have seen us. Me and Sunoo were trying to figure out how to do taxes. Never again."
As the bartender served up their drinks, Jungwon turned back to Jake, who continued, "I know you're having a hard time, but just know that we're here for you."
Jake raised the shot glass filled with a golden brown liquidâ "Cheers."
Jungwon smiled.
Clink! Their shot glasses collided.
"Cheers." And with that, Jungwon threw the shot back, the bitter taste on his tastebuds burning so hard that it reached his nose. Almost immediately, Jungwon's expression turned sour, his nose scrunching at the taste. "Bleghâ How do you drink this?!"
Jake shrugged. "You'll get used to it if you drink enough."
Jungwon hunched over the bar counter, his elbows on the counter as he held his hands in his head. He shook his head. "Never again. That's nasty."
A few moments of silence pass. Jungwon slid his empty shot glass over. "Give me another shot."
Despite being an adult, Jungwon had forgotten what it felt like to party.
The thrumming of the techno music that filled the club felt like it was stringing directly through Jungwon, droning through his head. After a few shots and buzzed laughs with Jake, Jungwon was tipsy enough that his body felt weightless. Weightless enough to find himself on the dance floor.
As his strong body moved to the music, Jungwon felt the rhythm of the music. His mind was hazy, nebulous as the alcohol in his system began to take over. Jungwon's head felt warm, and his vision despite his spider senses was more blurry than usual. But that didn't matter.
Blood was rushing all over Jungwon's body. His cheeks felt warm, and he couldn't tell if it was his enhanced spidey-senses or if the music was just that loud that he could physically feel the hum in his chest.
Then, the music switched from an upbeat electronic sound, to a slower, more melodic one. Jungwon swore he recognized the song, but he couldn't name it. Jungwon felt the multiple bodies of the room brush against him, before he felt one directly press up against him.
It was clearly a woman. Jungwon let his eyes shut as he let his body take reign.
Swaying to the gradual beat, Jungwon found his hands on this new woman's body. As his chest pulsed to the song, he took in her scent, he could smell sweet, floral nodes. He could barely feel his feet below him, and for a few moments, he felt like he was going to float off of the ground. And just as Jungwon thought he was going to ascend, he felt two manicured hands on his chest. His hands slid down to her hips, squeezing them, which earned him a sultry giggle.
If Jungwon weren't drunk, he may have jumped away the moment he realized that a woman was practically grinding on him. But the alcohol was too deep in his system, and he was too far gone. Even with his eyes closed, Jungwon could feel everything so intensely. He felt fingers reach for his belt loops, pulling him along.
As the music slowed to a stop, momentarily invading the usually bumping club in a hushed silence, Jungwon felt the woman lean into his ear.
"So handsome," she rasped, her warm breath brushing against his skin.
And as the chills trickled down his spine, the music finally came back on. And strangely enough, even though they were, in fact, inside a partying club, the music that blasted from the speakers was the complete opposite.
A slow piano, rich and deep vocals, and a romantic cadence.
Even in his drunken state, Jungwon immediately recognized this song at the first lyrics. Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Preseley. Without a doubt, it was this song.
How did Jungwon know? Because this was the song that you and him loved to slow dance to on your kitchen floor. And just like that, Jungwon's mind drifted into the deepest pits of his mind, the parts that he'd locked away.
In his mind, he saw you and him swaying to this song. You and him both wearing matching aprons, giggling as you attempted to slow dance. He saw the way you'd look at him, with those beautiful eyes that he could never refuse. He saw the way you said his name with a smile that he could never forget, not even in a million lifetimes.
Then, he saw flickering images of you and him: you and him holding each other in the winter to keep each other warm, you and him crying into each other's arms, you and him arguing over something so silly that you just ended up bursting out laughing.
And for a moment, it felt like you were there. Another body up against his, dancing so rhythmically that for a split second, Jungwon could pretend that it was you.
And in the depths of his heart, he prayed that it was you.
He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this nightmare would end, and he would get to see you. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, he would see you, staring up at him with those same beautiful, glossy eyes. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this song would end, and he could scoop you up and bring you home, to show you all the love that he desperately wanted to give you.
But as Elvis Preseley's resonant voice sang earnestly, Jungwon's eyes slowly peeled open to not see you, but another woman.
A woman that was not you.
"N-Not her," Jungwon's lips quivered, his body instantly pulling away. His feet stumbled, in an attempt to tear away from her grasp. Jungwon ignored the way the woman attempted to pull him back, calling out to him.
In his intoxicated state, Jungwon felt hot tears line his eyes as he staggered away.
Not you. She wasn't you. It didn't matter, in fact. No one was you.
It didn't matter what Jungwon tried to do, his heart kept going back to you.
His head was spinning. Jungwon could barely control his body as he bursted out of the doors of the club, and even less, he couldn't control the tears that were now staining his cheeks. The expensive bottle of water that the club had at the entrance was completely chugged down in a single swish, minus Jungwon's struggles to manage his soft sobbing.
Even with water in his system, Jungwon's head was still spinning. His vision was swirling. Finally, after faltering for a few moments, Jungwon found himself sitting on the stairs at the entrance of the club.
As his vision cleared up, the alcohol in his system slowly washing away, Jungwon brought his hand to his mouth, to muffle the sounds of his crying.
Maybe he was just drunk, but the tears were just not stopping. Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, labored and stammering breaths rising from his chest. His hot tears were beginning to burn his eyes.
Even from outside, he could still hear Elvis Preseley's vocalization.
Damn it, did he have to ruin tonight? Jungwon pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face into his knees. His jeans were getting wet with his tears, and the late-night breeze was getting chilly.
In fact, everything was hurting.
Why couldn't he just forget you? Why couldn't he just let you go? Why did he still yearn for you?
Jungwon lifted his head. He could see his hunched figure in his shadow on the ground. How pathetic of him. He hasn't cried in a long time. It felt weird. It didn't feel like him.
Jungwon looked at the spider-like black veins on his wrist. Why was he cursed? Why did it have to be him? He wasn't worthy, he would never be worthy of being Spider-Man. Jungwon didn't ask to be bitten. He didn't ask for that stupidly rich and ignorant scientist to come to him and urge him to use his powers for good. He didn't ask for this responsibility. He didn't ask for anything, except you.
"With great power comes great responsibility," was what he was told the moment the scientists found him. And Jungwon really believed in it. He used his strength to help the weak, he gave others the power that they couldn't have, he protected the love that others cherished.
But couldn't keep any for himself.
After Jungwon's initial honeymoon phase with his newfound spider abilities, he realized something that changed his entire life forever. That he was no longer safe, and even more, everyone that he loved was no longer safe. And Jungwon thought he was strong enough; he thought that he could let you and all of his friends go slowly to protect you all. But he simply wasn't.
And Jungwon felt so damn selfish. He felt like a greedy bastard, someone who couldn't sacrifice himself for the good of others. Why was he even crying? There were people in danger right now, and here he was crying because he missed the girl of his dreams? How pathetic.
But he wanted you so bad.
Jungwon never wanted anything in life. All his life, he was obedient like a dog. He did everything that others asked of him. He always tried his best, always valued his righteousness, always did what was right.
But now, all he wanted was you.
He's never wanted anything, but the moment that he wants you, he couldn't have you.
Here he was, crying like some idiot all alone while you were probably still on that date. God, he wished Sunghoon never told him. He tried his best for the past few days to just not think about it, but now Jungwon had to truly face the fact that you've already moved on. His chest felt like it was going to burst.
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his fist to muffle his sobs even more. Maybe he should just go home. It's cold, it's uncomfortable, it's unsanitary, and most of all, Jungwon felt like shit.
As Jungwon stumbled to his feet, he sucked in one more breath. It still smelled like alcohol, with a scent of cigarettes. Then, he looked at the bustling road across the street. Somewhere out there, you were laughing with another man. Probably kissing him, calling him the same names that you'd call Jungwon.
God, it made him physically ill. Jungwon brought the back of his hand to wipe his nose one more time. He was going to go home. He'll leave a call for Heeseung or something later.
But before he could even take another stepâ
Boom!
Jungwon looked up at the sky. Even when it was dark, he could see a large cloud of black smoke. And now, he heard police sirens in the distance and the screaming of civilians.
Shit.
You fiddled with your fingers, bouncing your knee in anticipation to the beat of the 2010's pop song that your taxi driver chose.
Damn it, Wonyoung, you thought. You glanced down at the dress that your best friend chose for you. In the reflection of the backseat car window you caught your made up face. The blush on your cheeks, your curled lashes, the lip gloss. You thought you looked pretty.
Your eyes fluttered to your phone resting in your lap. The latest notification was from Wonyoung, telling you good luck and that you looked pretty. You couldn't help but smile.
It's been 6 months since your boyfriend Jungwon broke up with you. And frankly, it's probably been the worst 6 months of your life.
Words could not describe the types of pain and downright suffering that you went through. You cried for weeks straight, and up until recently, you hadn't had the motivation to really do anything.
The breakup was so unexpected, too. One day you and Jungwon were laughing, the next he left you. You couldn't understand why, and it wasn't like Jungwon gave you a succinct reason either. All he had said was that he was sorry, and that he had no other choice.
And the worst part was, you still weren't over your ex.
All that pain for nothing, you thought as your eyes followed the cars that passed your taxi. Your best friend, Wonyoung, on the other hand, had had enough.
"I don't like seeing you like this," Wonyoung had told you one night, as you cried into her shoulder. Despite what she showed others with her bubbly personality, her voice was stern. "It's not fair to you."
And you knew she was right. Which was why you let her set you up on a date with one of her colleagues. You figured that it was time that you stopped mulling over a man that couldn't stay anyway.
It's been so long in general since you even considered looking at someone else that wasn't Jungwon. And for a reason that you couldn't explain, it didn't feel right. And yet, you pushed it to the back of your head as you stepped out of the taxi.
The restaurant that your date, a guy named Haruto Watanabe, chose was a semi-formal one, called Bisco's Palace. You thought that name was a little bit corny, but you brushed it off. Thick stone walls, yellow-orange moody lighting, and an elegant grassy hedge at the entrance. It looked like a fairytale, and because of the beautiful dress that Wonyoung made you wear, you felt like you were in a fairytale.
When you arrived, you were met with a tall man with sharp features.
"Haruto?" you asked. He turned to look at you. You watched as his eyes widened, before he gave you a once-over.
"[N-Name]?" he spluttered. You recognized the look on his face. It was the look on a man's face whenever he found a woman attractive, and unfortunately, you were no stranger to it. "You lookâ You look beautiful."
If you were someone else, maybe you'd feel flattered. It's not every day that a good-looking man calls you beautiful. But all you felt was a sense of unease. Not that it was his fault; there was nothing intrinsically wrong with him. You just didn't know why you felt so uncomfortable.
You fought back the urge to make a face, and you instead forced a tight-lipped smile.
"Thank you." Now it was your turn to look him over. He was wearing a crisp button-up with slacks. He looked well put-together. "You look great too."
Haruto visibly turned pink, and he muttered something under his breath as he averted his gaze. Finally, he cleared his throat, extending his hand out to you. "Shall we go in?"
You narrowed your eyes at him, before you took his hand curtly. "Of course."
The two of you were quickly seated, and after being greeted by a cheery waitress that was clearly still in high school, your food was ordered and served in a timely manner. If you were to be honest, you weren't exactly too invested in tonight's date. Even if you agreed to it to get over Jungwon, you knew that your heart wasn't there yet.
Not to say that Haruto wasn't a sweetheart. He was polite, had very good manners, and was very respectful toward you. He tried his best to keep a flowing conversation with you, and in recognizing his efforts, you simply just went along with him. He was handsome and a well-natured guy. And, the food was great. Everything was to your taste, from the appetizers to the drinks to the dessert. The wait staff were also on top of it. As a whole, the restaurant was just perfect. The lights, the music, even how cushioned the chairs were.
Like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect. Perfect man, perfect food, perfect night. But it just wasn't good enough.
You felt nothing for Haruto, not even an ounce of interest. And as much as you didn't want to admit it, you knew why you were like this: Because he wasn't Jungwon.
There was nothing "Jungwon" about this date. Haruto certainly wasn't Jungwon, but everything about this date was nothing like how you liked to be treated. You liked to laugh and to get into dynamic discussions about silly topics, ones that didn't even matter. Haruto was so sweet, but he couldn't match your level of wit. While the food was tasty, you didn't want something so stringent and formal. You'd rather do something together with your date, to get to know each other better rather than sitting at a candle-lit restaurant.
Who would have known all of this? Who would have allowed you to do all of these things regardless of the environment? Who did your heart still stubbornly belong to?
Jungwon.
You let out a forced laugh at one of Haruto's jokes before excusing yourself to the washroom.
Shhhhh! As the sink water ran, you stared at your reflection. Even your makeup was done in a way that you knew Jungwon liked. The lipgloss in your purse was the same one that he bought you all those months ago. You didn't even know if you had the heart to use it up.
You thought that you were doing better. But it seemed like time and space only made your heart grow fonder.
It was getting later into the night now. And against your better judgment, you wondered what Jungwon was doing. Maybe he's playing video games. Or reading all of the superhero comics that he loved to collect.
Then, your mind wandered. What if he was with another girl? Your chest overwhelmed itself with unimaginable hurt. He never gave you a real explanation as to why he wanted to end things, and seemingly, his closest friends couldn't either. You'd be lying if you said that your mind didn't betray you, wandering to all of the darkest places.
Your eyes traced your own face in the mirror. Would Jungwon do that to you? Was he really the type to be unfaithful?
You knew the answer: no. Never. Jungwon was many things, and a cold-hearted unscrupulous cheater was not one of them. But then again, you thought you knew him to be the type to never spring a breakup on you. But he did. Maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought he did.
You took a deep breath. Not right now, you thought. You were on a date with another guy. It would be disrespectful to think about your ex, wouldn't it? Even if Haruto was most definitely not the one for you, you should have some courtesy.
You quickly rinsed your hands, dried them, and reapplied your lipgloss. And as you were ready to step back out, prepared to brave your tight-lipped smile and kind words, a large crashing sound pierced your ears.
Boom!
In the blink of an eye, the tiled bathroom floor below you rumbled, low growls rolling from under your feet. You froze. Your hand jerked out to grab the counter, the wall, the bathroom door handleâ anythingâ to keep you stable.
"W-What theâ"
Another deafening roar thundered through the air, enough to make your ears ring. At that instance, the floor below you ripped open.
What the hell was going on? Was it an earthquake? That would explain why the ground tore open. And yet, in the distance, you could hear booming thumping sounds.
Almost like the footsteps of a humongous being. Almost like the footsteps of a supervillain. Shit.
You're well aware of the state of your city. In the past few years, there has been a strange phenomenon of evildoers and mutants alike, appearing throughout your city to wreak havoc and torment civilians. And with that came the rise of even more bold crimes. Bank robberies, arson, kidnappings, pretty much everything.
Luckily, in the past 6 months, a new hero has appeared. The red and blue masked hero; the friendly neighborhood superhero himself; Spider-Man.
Your apartment, located near the center of the city, was awfully close to all of the commotion, nearly all the time. Which was why you couldn't help but admit that Spider-Man was quite the gem, for taking out all of these ne'er-do-wells and eccentric supervillains. And yet, here you were, probably in the middle of a supervillain attack.
All of the past villains have been eccentric but petty. But as the tiles below your feet literally cracked with each booming thrum, you were sure that this new villain, whoever it was, was worse.
Much worse. Probably worse than you could ever imagine.
And before you could react to the way that you tumbled to the ground, the cold floor hitting your knees so achingly, you heard a shriek from outside the bathroom.
"It's Baron von Fizzlebang!"
.... Who?
Baron von Fizzlebang?
What kind of shitty villain name is thatâ
Boom!
The smell of smoke filled your nostrils. You didn't know where it came from, but from the way that civilians screeched and screamed outside, you figured that it couldn't be far from you.
Boom!
Okay, this is urgent, you needed to get out!
Your heart rate picking up, you breathed slowly to keep yourself calm. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the way your soon-to-be bruised knees ached. As you reached for the bathroom door handle, the lights flickered, followed by the sound of explosions. Even though you were definitively inside the bathroom, with all sides of the room still intact, the dust seeped through the cracks, filling your lungs. With a strained gasp for air, you clamped a hand over your nose, squinting.
You pressed your ear against the bathroom door. Now the entire restaurant blared with fire alarms and smoke detectors. Police sirens also sounded. The large footstep-like thudding in the distance came closer and closer. You had no choice but get out of this damn bathroom and book it.
Your heart was now pounding so quickly that it felt like it would fall out. Your legs felt so weak, your head feeling too heavy. Who the hell is Baron von Fizzlebang? And more importantly, why did it have to be tonight? Without even realizing it, your palms had become sweaty, and with all the blood rushing to your head, you were mere seconds away from sweating.
You shook your head. Focus! You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand wrapped tightly on that bathroom door handle. On a count of three, you were going to open that door and run for your life.
One. Why did some good-for-nothing supervillain have to ruin your already-mediocre night?
Two. You needed to relax. There's no time to sit around and think and languish. Just do it!
Three. You pushed the heavy bathroom door open, and you bursted through the doorway.
And much to your relief, the dark hallway that led to the restaurant's bathroom was hidden away in a little nook; at the end of the hallway was the entrance to the main room of the restaurant.
Slowly creeping down the hallway, you could see the destruction that was wreaked on Bisco's poor, fancy restaurant. Chairs and tables were knocked over, with broken glass and porcelain scattering the red-carpeted floor. From the looks of it, it seemed like all of the restaurant's patrons were either huddled up in another section of the restaurant, or they had escaped.
Great. Now, all you had to do was get out. Thankfully, at the other end of this hallway, there was a backdoor exit. So all you had to do was turn around andâ
There standing at the end of the hallway, in front of your exit, was a tall and slender man.
He wore a fitted tailored suit, yet it was bright purple, with a giant bow tie. He had a monocle over his eye.
Like some type of costumed noble. Like a baron.
"That's right," he said, a devious grin spreading across his face, in a way that almost made him look like a carnival clown. Your pulse froze, mid-beat. Theatrically, he gave you a bow, before he reached a hand out to you. " 'Tis I, Baron von Fizzlebang."
Your gut twisted. And when you stared at him with shaky eyes, your entire body frozen in time, the supervillain let out a cackle.
"Oh dear," Baron von Fizzlebang put his hand to his chest, feigning offense. He slyly eyed you, and at once, you could see a lightbulb seemingly pop from his head. "You don't mind being a hostage, right?"
Before you could even open your mouth, Baron von Fizzlebang shot you with finger-guns. And before you knew it, you fell to your knees, your vision became hazy. The last thing that you heard as you lost consciousness was the supervillain's laughter, police sirens, and shouting for a particular red and blue masked superhero.
Jungwon swore that he had a special sense for you.
Jungwon arrived at the scene barely even 5 minutes after he heard the initial explosion. The big fancy restaurant at the end of Mainstreet was the scene.
Really? Jungwon thought. Bisco's Palace? That pretentious place?
The thing was, Jungwon wasn't really nervous. One time, he had to fight an entire group of 20 thugs with guns barely 5 minutes after he was rudely awoken. Jungwon could probably fight people in his sleep. His body and physicality, although he resented it half the time, was perfectly attuned to everything that he needed.
Even now, as he was barely sober and emotionally wrecked, he could see clearly. When he arrived at the scene, half of Bisco's Palace was completely destroyed. Mini fires spotted the scene, with pods of smoke bursting in the night air. Terrified civilians cried that they heard earsplitting thumping in the distance, like footsteps. Others claimed that an eccentric villain called "Baron von something-something" was the cause of this all.
Jungwon huffed. Another crazy supervillain? Seemingly there was another crazy supervillain appearing everyday! What, was there some kind of factory pumping them out? From the looks of it, it seemed like most of the civilians had escaped relatively unscathed.
Good. Jungwon readied himself to launch into that burning restaurant. He had a simple action plan: Rescue the remaining civilians, beat that Baron von something-something's ass, and go home.
The moment that Jungwon's striking red and blue figure launched across the sky, Jungwon could hear the gasps of civilians, police officers, and on-site journalists alike. Jungwon landed easily into what was left of that restaurant building.
And when he entered, it was quiet. Eerily quiet.
Jungwon had to be careful.
Jungwon creeped slowly, closer to the main dining room. He kept his breathing as quiet as a whisper. And when he peeked his head through the grand, arched door-frame that led into the dining room, there, he saw a group of civilians, huddled among the flickering fires Men, women, childrenâ there they were, shaking in fear, and coughing as the. Fire smoke filled their lungs. With his enhanced senses, he could hear mothers hushing their wailing babies and children asking their fathers if they were going to die tonight.
Not on my watch, Jungwon mentally answered their questions.
Jungwon shot a web at the ceiling, and in one fell swoop, he gathered enough momentum to swing across the restaurant, landing where the civilians were.
"Spider-Man!" they cried.
Jungwon crouched down toward them, putting his hands on his knees.
"Listen," he began, his voice stern. "I am going to help you guys escape." Jungwon grimaced at their amazed gazes. "But I need you guys to listen to me carefully."
Jungwon's eyes glazed over the group of civilians. There were up to 15 of them. He didn't have time to carry each and every one of them out. The entrance was burning, and there weren't any other ways to get out. Jungwon wanted to conserve his time as much as possible. To prevent that bastard of a villain Baron von something-something from doing any more damage.
And now that he took a better look at these civilians, they looked tired and worn out. Their cheeks were covered in soot, sweaty faces from the fire that was surrounding them.
Jungwon's eyes darted around the restaurant. There had to be another exit. Then, his eyes fell upon the tall window that stretched from the ceiling down to the floor.
Bingo.
"Mama, it's too hot," Jungwon could hear a toddler babble. Other people seemed to join in on agreement, and yet, they could barely speak coherently. With sweat-stained shirts and cheeks, Jungwon cursed under his breath.
Damn it, the fire was physically weakening these people. Jungwon's plan was nothing short of easy: he was going to break the hell out that window and get these people to escape that way. Yet, the problem was, the windows were bound to shatter and create dangerous shards. Jungwon was going to instruct them to be careful, but judging from the way that these civilians flinched at even the slightest flutter of fire while barely even having the strength to stand up, there was no way that they could have the alertness and mental precision to actually avoid the shards.
Think, think! Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut. What should he do? In the palace that was his mind, Jungwon ran through every possibility. These fires were big. They looked much smaller outside, but now that he was in the restaurant itself, these tongues of fires were massive. Not only were these fires scalding, but the smoke was painful for these civilians.
Come to think of it, shouldn't every building in this city have a robust mechanism for when fire breaks out? And yet, the walls, floor, and remaining civilians in this restaurant were dry. Which means that the sprinklers haven't gone off yet.
This was why public establishments needed health inspections... Jungwon shook his head. He didn't have time to criticize the efficacy of his government.
At once, Jungwon shot webs at whatever hard object he could findâ fallen plates, bundles of metal utensils, even pieces of debrisâ before slinging them into the ceiling, directly toward all of the sprinkler bulbs that dotted the tall ceiling.
I'm sorry about your ceiling, but you'll thank me later, Jungwon thought, before slinging thick wads of webs toward every vent.
As each sprinkler bulb shattered, flared streams of water bursted from the ceiling. And as each vent of this flaming restaurant were webbed over, Jungwon prayed to whichever god he could think of that his physics professor was right about buoyancy. Hopefully, if he was right, by webbing over the vents, new smoke would not be able to enter the room, and thus reduce the amount of smoke that the civilians were breathing in.
As cold water droplets pittered and pattered over Jungwon's suit, he watched as the remaining civilians cheered and cooled off under the sprinkler. And with his physics-accurate ventilation blockage, they'd now be much more compliant.
Jungwon latched onto a larger piece of debris and slung it at the closest and safest window.
"Okay," he began instructing, creating a temporary web to shield the civilians from the fractured pieces of the window. "
Youâ" he pointed at a manâ"Take that kid. And you twoâ" he pointed at two teenagersâ"Stick together."
Jungwon organized the people. "Be careful, and step around the shards!"
The civilians were already on it. Jungwon watched as they carried their young and old, fleeing as fast as they came, all of them murmuring a "thank you, Spider-Man," as they pushed out through the window.
And with that, Jungwon was left all alone. The fire had died down just a little bit, by virtue of the sprinklers. For safe measure, Jungwon configured a few webs to create a few fire barriers to slow those damned flames down.
Now where was that Baron von something-something?
Jungwon scanned the restaurant. He looked everywhere. In the foyer, at the entrance, in the kitchen, even under the tables.
But he couldn't find anyone.
Except, there was one place that he didn't check: the dark hallway in the corner of the restaurant.
Jungwon inched toward it, slowly. He took small, spider-like steps.
"Oh, would you just hurry it up already?!" a loud voice boomed through the air.
Emerging from the hallway was a tall man.
Baron von something-something.
"Look at you, Spider-Man!" he cried, mockingly batting his eyelashes and clasping his hands together. "So brave! So strong! You helped those poor, poor civilians escape!"
Jungwon narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was this maniac? Jungwon's fingers twitched.
"But it looks like you forgot one." A sinister smile spread across his face. "Oh come out, dear!"
There was nothing that could have possibly prepared Jungwon for what he saw next. His heart plummeted to his stomach, because from the dark hallway emerged you.
Your face was dazed, your eyes cloudy, and your movements so sluggish. As if you were unconscious, and your mind was being controlled.
"Dontcha think she's pretty?" the villain continued, eccentrically throwing his arms around you. He laughed. "They don't call me Baron von Fizzlebang for no reason! With a single gunshot from my fingers, I can take anyone under my control!"
Jungwon tuned everything out.
He felt a flood of emotions.
Fear.
You, the person that's been haunting him. You, who has been consuming his thoughts and life. There you were, in front of him, after all of this time. Even when you weren't really there, Jungwon couldn't bear to look you in the eyes.
And yet, it meant nothing. His fear meant absolutely nothing. Not when there was another emotion taking hold: anger.
So much anger, that his blood felt hot. Jungwon dug his fingernails into his gloved palms, enough that his knuckles were beginning to ache. How dare this villain take advantage of you? Your safety was in jeopardy. It made Jungwon's stomach boil with a rage that he couldn't comprehend, the way that you were quite literally not in control of your body. That in the time that Jungwon wasn't there, unspeakable things could have been done to you. To think that your own autonomy was torn from your hands, to think that your own dignity was desecrated in the name of some supervillain's sick power gameâ that conjured a feeling that Jungwon couldn't even describe. Disgust, horror, wrath; he felt it all.
Jungwon now looked upon the villain with eyes full of wrath.
Baron von Fizzlebang continued to rave on and on about how great he was, and how this was just all part of his master plan to subjugate this city. But it didn't mean anything.
To the entire world, Spider-Man was a hero. And in most ways, he was one. Jungwon saved people daily, he prevented the city around him from crumbling to the ground like it was easy. He was a man of the people, the beacon of hope for all city residents.
The symbol of law and order, the righteous hero of the city, Spider-Man.
And yet, as Jungwon's eyes couldn't bear to tear away from your dazed face, he felt his resolve slip away.
The obligation to protect others, defend freedom, and uphold justice, like a vessel from a dock, sailed away into the horizon, into the unknown. Right now, Jungwon was not Spider-Man protecting a civilian. He was not the Spider-Man that had no other duty than to ensure the safety of his fellow citizens. He was not the Spider-Man whose every action reflected his moral purity.
No, Jungwon was a man that was so ashamed of his own fears, that he never even dared to speak of them. He was the man that pushed everyone away, frightened by what would happen if he continued to associate with them. And worst of all, Jungwon was the man that still continued to yearn you, longing for your touch one last time before he would consign his love to oblivion.
Which was why all Jungwon saw was red.
Maybe if he was actually listening to Baron von Fizzlebang's monologue he would have heard how his abilities worked, but Jungwon didn't care. He'll probably figure it out later when this lunatic gets thrown into jail.
Jungwon couldn't control his body, or his mind at that matter. All Jungwon could remember doing was shooting a web at the ceiling to gain a higher vantage point, before (with all of the maximum, inhuman speed that his body was capable of) swinging down to land a kick flat onto Baron von Fizzlebang's cheek, effectively knocking the man down to the floor.
Before the villain could even react, Jungwon couldn't stop himself; he pinned the villain down to the floor using all of his body weight, before he let nothing but his sheer anger reign. All of his pent up emotionsâ anger, fear, shame, guiltâ spilled out. No longer was Jungwon the pure hero.
With his bare hands, he landed punches to Baron von Fizzlebang's abdomen. Over and over and over.
Spider-Man used spider webs and crafty tricks to defeat his enemies. But Jungwon? He used his bare hands. With gritted teeth, and blood boiling hotter than lava, Jungwon punched, and punched, and punched. Even when he could feel his knuckles beginning to bruise, he punched. He ignored every cry and groan of pain coming from the villain, for there was only one thing on his mind: your dignity.
Jungwon wouldn't have stopped, not even if his arm gave out (because he would just switch to his other arm), not even if this maniacal supervillain was out for good.
The only thing that pulled Jungwon into his blind rage was the sound of you collapsing to the ground, with a thump!
Instantly, Jungwon snapped out of his fury, his head whipping over to you. Seemingly, with Baron von Fizzlebang knocked out, you were released from his control.
Immediately, Jungwon rushed over to you, leaving Baron von Fizzlebang's unconscious body.
"[Name]!" he cried, scooping your limp body up into his arms. You no longer looked dazed, so at least Baron von Fizzlebang's control of you wore off for good. And yet, your expression looked exhausted. Your eyes were half-lidded, labored breaths and soft whimpering pushing from your lips. "[Name], can you hear me? Are you okay?â"
Overhead, Jungwon could hear helicopters and the shouting of police officers and firemen from outside. They must have figured that Jungwon defeated Baron von Fizzlebang, and now they were sending re-enforcements. But all of Jungwon's focus was still on you.
"Spider-Man...?" you mumbled weakly, your voice hoarse and quivering. Now that he got a better look, your eyes were bloodshot, and your cheeks were tear-stained. Jungwon's heart clenched in his chest. He couldn't understand why he felt such an overwhelming urge to pull you into his embrace, to hold you close as if you would disappear. "Spider-Man, Iâ"
"Don't speak," Jungwon's voice came out as a whisper. And maybe it was now that Jungwon realized that his eyes were welled up with tears. It's been so long since he's been able to see you, and yet ironically, the only reason that he could was because your life was in danger. Jungwon let out a choked sob. "Don't say anything, [Name]."
"But IâI wanted to thank youâ"
"Shhhh."
You looked so tired. He couldn't imagine how you felt, being under the control of a supervillain that has malicious intentions. But here you were, still taking it upon yourself to thank him. He couldn't even fathom what type of pain (emotional? physical? mental? you definitely weren't going to be okay after this, he knew you that well) you were going through.
Hug her, was the resounding thought that filled Jungwon's head. He almost cursed himself for thinking such a thing. After all, he wasn't yours anymore. But as he watched your worn face, he thought again. When you were still his, you always felt soothed when you were under intense stress if he hugged you tightly, the way that you always liked it.
Holding his breath, Jungwon gently lifted your head and chest, before pulling you into his arms. Almost instantly, you relaxed into his body, pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Like how you used to. You murmured something under your breath, but Jungwon was too distracted by the tears that were now definitely streaming down his face. He hadn't felt your touch in so long. He's been dreaming of getting to hold you one last time for months now.
Your eyelids began to fall, your head yielding to his shoulder, which was a tell-tale sign that you've fallen unconscious.
In the restaurant of ruin and rubble, Jungwon sat there on the debris-ridden floor, with you in his arms. Before he finally decided to get back up and take the two of you out of this place, he gave you one more tight squeeze.
"I love you," he whispered into your ear. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped that somewhere in dreamland, you heard him.
Jungwon stared out of his apartment window. It's been a few days since the Baron von Fizzlebang-Bisco's Palace incident. Baron von Fizzlebang was taken into police custody and his trial awaited him. Meanwhile, the city was still cleaning up the aftermath, with an entire block of the city being taped off.
But the city wasn't the only thing that had to be repaired.
Namely, Jungwon hadn't recovered yet. His fists still had red-purple marks on them. Even with his superhuman regenerative abilities, he had pushed himself to the extreme when he was beating up Baron von Fizzlebang the other day. But that wasn't the issue.
Ever since that day, Jungwon hadn't stopped thinking about you. Well, to be sure, he never stopped thinking about you, but he was thinking about you extra now.
He wondered how you were doing. You were a strong girl. You could withstand pretty much everything, because it was in your nature. But after an incident like this one, he was sure that you were going through a lot.
Jungwon felt selfish. He wanted to check up on you. He wanted to ask one of his friends to ask your friends how you were doing, or maybe go to your apartment as Spider-Man to check up on you himself.
But that's a purely selfish desire.
Jungwon couldn't do that to you. He broke up with you for a reason: to protect you. He'd never want to do anything to put you in danger, and by even opening an avenue of communication between him (in both his hero and civilian form) and you was dangerous in and of itself.
It scared him so deeply, the thought of losing you. But still, Jungwon wanted to be selfish. He wanted to love you greedily, to have you all to himself.
He looked out his window again, then he looked down at his wrists: the black spider-like veins looked darker today. Maybe in another lifetime, because in this lifetime, he had a duty as Spider-Man.
Speaking of which, there were few actual benefits of being Spider-Man. One of them was that Jungwon got to directly impact other people's lives. Which was why every week, the municipal government would send him all of the fan-mail that civilians had for him.
Jungwon shook the thought of you away, pushing it to the back of his mind as he. grabbed his keys, slipped on some slippers, and ventured down to his apartment complex's mailroom.
As always, his mailbox was filled to the brim with mail. From letters to postcards to care packages, Jungwon looked like a madman as he struggled to carry all of his fan=mail back up to his apartment. It sucked that he couldn't use his spider abilities to help him in broad daylight.
In fact, there was so much mail that as Jungwon traversed the hallway back to his apartment, stumbling over himself, one stray letter fell from the stack of letters that he had atop all of the packages.
He cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes. He watched as that one stray letter seemingly flew off of the stack, gracefully floating in the air for a few seconds before landing before his feet.
Jungwon huffed again. He quickly made his way back to his apartment, set down all of his fan-mail, before running back out into the hallway to pick up that pesky envelope that decided to fly away.
But as Jungwon marched down that hallway, crouching down to pick up the letter that had fallen out of his grasp, his eyes fell upon that name on that envelope.
It was your name. Jungwon snatched it up.
You wrote him fan-mail. Jungwon couldn't help but smile.
It has been about two weeks since the incident, and frankly, you're only halfway over it. You could tell that you were getting better compared to how you were in the immediate aftermath. But you still couldn't sleep at night, and you needed lots of mental preparation to go anywhere outside.
But today, you decided that you were going to put on a brave face, and stand up against your fears.
Pushing what fears you had to the back of your mind, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. It was late into the morning, and yet, you were wearing makeup.
Wonyoung (that smart girl, always with tricks up her sleeve), feeling apologetic about what had happened at that disaster of a date last week, begged to take you out on a girl's date today. After being cooped up in your room everyday for the past few days, you couldn't say no to her offer.
You felt a little nervous, though. The last time you went out, you got taken control of by that supervillain. But Wonyoung had been there for you the entire way, talking you through it every night. You trusted her, and you appreciated how she didn't treat you like a victim; Wonyoung wasn't babying your every step, but instead just treating you like a normal person.
And plus, it was summer. You wanted to have fun and to live your young adult life. Your eyes fluttered over to your window. Streams of yellow sunlight peeked through. Today was too beautiful. You could remember Wonyoung's excited voice over the phone a few nights ago.
"We should go take pictures!" she has squealed over the phone. "You just look toooooo pretty and we need to post something on your Instagramâ to show all the guys what they're missing out on!"
You giggled. You still couldn't get used to being treated like you were single. There were indeed a few cool freedoms that came with being single. But in your mind, you still belonged to someone.
You looked at your phone. Wonyoung talked about posting pictures to make guys feel like bums for not getting on their knees and worshipping you (her words, not yours!). But when you thought about posting pictures, all you thought about was whether or not Jungwon would see them.
You squeezed your eyes shut. You needed to stop thinking about him. It wasn't healthy. But you still wondered if he thought about you, the same way you thought about him. You sat up from your bed, before you glanced into the mirror near the foot of your bed.
You hoped that he thought about you, too.
Ding dong! Oh! A ring from the front door! It must be Wonyoung! You happily promenaded to your apartment door, excited to greet your best friend with a big hug, andâ
"J-Jungwon?!"
Instead of seeing your pink-wearing scheming best friend, you're greeted with your ex-boyfriend. However, for some reason, he looked more surprised than you!
"[N-Name]?!" he spluttered, his cat-like eyes as wide as saucers with his jaw falling open.
The two of you stare at each other like that for what felt like an eternity.
Your eyes fell over his features. His hair had grown a little bit longer since the last time you saw him (granted, that was half a year ago). His face looked slimmer, like he had lost weight. As you glazed over his figure, he had a backpack on his shoulders as always, but you eyed the way his biceps looked. He looked like he had put on more muscle, and before you could start ogling at him, you stopped yourself.
This was the guy that broke your heart. This was the guy that left you with no words. And now he was at your door?
"What the fuck do you want?" you spat at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Your brows crashed together, your expression turning sour. When he didn't respond, because you could tell by his expression that he was too busy checking you out, you began to close the door in his face.
"W-Wait!" he put his hands in front of him, flailing them panicked. You shot him a questioning look. "I thinkâ I think I'm at the wrong apartment..."
You scoffed. "Oh, bullshit. What do you actually want?"
"I-I promise that I'm serious," Jungwon breathed out, and for a second you felt the walls you built for yourself threatening to crash down. He looked like a sad cat. Frantically, he shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for his phone that was squashed somewhere in them. When he finally found his phone, he fumbled with it, before showing you his screen. "I'm tutoring... a kid on your floor, I think."
You took a good look at his phone screen, and he was telling the truth.
You sighed, pinching your nose-bridge.
"Do you..." he began, his eyes refusing to look at yours. "Do you know how to get to room 1214?"
You let out another sigh, this time louder. Jungwon stumbled, stammering to explain himself again, but you put a hand up, effectively silencing him.
"Keep going down the hallway, make a left turn, and you'll find room 1214 on your right," you said simply.
"Thank you," Jungwon said, as he nodded slowly, and you hummed.
Another long moment of silence engulfed the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick that you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You watched the way Jungwon's fingers fidgeted, a habit that he's never lost. He did this whenever he felt nervous or shy. It was a habit that you had grown to be fond of. You thought it was sweet that he was so fidgety. You tore your eyes away from him.
Was this the guy that wordlessly broke your heart?
"I'm gonnaâ" Jungwon started, breaking the silence. "I'm gonna go now."
He locked eyes with you, but just as he tried to break eye contact, you sent him a warning look. He didn't look away.
"Okay," you said simply. "Me too."
"Yeah."
And yet, the two of you still stood there, staring at each other. You've spent so many nights crying over him. You've never felt so much pain in your life before. There was so much anger and resentment that you had built up for him. There were a million words that you wanted to say to him, to tell him how much he hurt you.
But right now, you couldn't think of anything.
"Take care," you said.
"You too."
And with that, you slowly closed your door on him, while he slowly walked away from your door. But you swore that he kept looking back at you.
The moment that your front door clicked shut, you pressed your back up against it, before sliding down and holding your knees to your chest. You couldn't get over him when he clearly still wasn't over you. Why was he playing with you like this? Why did it have to be you, and more importantly, why did it have to be him?
Surely in time, Wonyoung showed up, and the two of you went on your little girl's day.
You huffed as you stumbled through your apartment doorway, struggling to take off your shoes amidst all of the shopping bags hanging on your arm. That Wonyoung, so eager to treat you to a nice day out. She bought you everything that you remotely showed interest in.
The moment that you arrived home, you shed all of your outdoor clothes, retreating to the comfort that was your bedroom. By now, it was dark out, and despite having a long and fun day with Wonyoung, you didn't feel tired. Unlike most days like this one that would follow a logical sequence, you still felt restless, as if your day had not been complete.
You were plagued with a weird gnawing feeling inside you. This happened a lot lately, probably just your anxiety from the past few weeks' incident.
And when you finally realized that laying in bed for hours scrolling on your phone was barely productive for an adult like you, you sighed, before sitting up from your bed.
Maybe you should write to him.
Ever since the incident at Bisco's Palace, you've found yourself especially restless. It's hard to tell if you're just paranoid, but on nights like this, you found yourself doing the same thing: writing to Spider-Man.
You used to be indifferent to the buzz around the masked hero, but now you understood it. You didn't know the reason why, but you found yourself finding comfort in simply writing to Spider-Man. It's simple things like thanking him for his service, and telling him about your day.
You glanced at the disorderly pile on your desk, of folded letters and envelopes. You never sent your letters. You've only ever sent him one letter.
The rest of your letters, which were structured more like long streams of consciousness vomited on a piece of paper, were left unsent.
You sighed. It wasn't like Spider-Man was really going to read your letters. You were just writing your thoughts out. You sat at your desk, scrolling through your Spotify Playlists to first choose the perfect moody music to get you writing. Your finger scrolled around your screen, glazing over the icons for each of your playlists.
You stopped when you saw a familiar, yet long-forgotten one.
It was a playlist that was created an entire year ago, with a simple title: love. Its icon was none other than a picture of you and Jungwon, with your cheeks smooshed up against each other. Smiling. In love.
Your finger hovered over its icon for a few moments. You haven't listened to this playlist in months. It's practically been collecting cobwebs in your Spotify account. If you listened to it now, you'd probably lose your mind. And yet you felt drawn to it.
You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples. In times in stress, we as humans seek familiarity. It's not crazy for you, who just experienced something traumatizing, to seek the solace of an old playlist reminiscent of a happier time. Right?
Play, you clicked.
Immediately, songs that you haven't heard in a long time filled your ears, the familiar tunes and melodies that you've grown to love hanging in the air.
You grabbed a pen, and began jotting down your thoughts.
'Dear Spider-Man,' you started off your letter. Below your desk, your knees bounced to the rhythm of each songâ each song chosen by Jungwon, reminding you of all of his laughs and soft kisses as you and him shared earbuds on the city's underground subway.
As the black ink of your pen smudged against the side of your palm, you hummed along to the music that emitted from your phone. For a second, you could pretend that it was last summer, when you still had a boy to call yours.
You bit your lip, staring at the words scribbled on the paper.
It wasn't like Spider-Man would ever read these letters. He was a hypothetical addressee in your letters, so to speak. You took a deep breath.
'I miss him,' you wrote next, wincing as you gazed at your handwriting. How embarrassing, that you're confiding in the hypothetical version of a superhero in your head about your boy troubles. Whatever. You continued, 'I don't think I'll be able to move on from him, not any time soon.'
You stared at your words again. Oh, isn't this just pathetic?
You groaned, exasperated. You seriously just needed to get a life, or something. Just as you were about to throw yourself into your bed and scream into your pillows, leaving an unfinished letter open on your deskâ
Crash!
You whipped your head toward the source of the sound: your bedroom balcony.
For a moment, your shoulders tensed. The last time a loud sound filled your ears, you got your mind controlled. And plus, it wasn't safe being a woman that lived alone, especially in a city notorious for its crime.
With trembling eyes, you stared out your glass balcony doors. It was completely dark out, save for the streams of light staining your balcony from your room. There's loud sounds all the time, but this time, you were 100% certain that the sound was on your balcony.
Should you go check it out? Or should you just turn off all your lights and jump into bed?
But before you could scare yourself even more, a strong figure slowly rose from the darkness. Hunched over, as if he was in pain, emerged a familiar red and blue hero.
"S-Spider-Man?!" you gaped to yourself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
And despite the darkness, you and him seem to lock eyes. Spider-Man, although it was him that was intruding on your property, seemed even more surprised by your presence, physically jolting away as if he was really that taken aback by you. And unfortunately for him, just as he was about to scurry away, you bursted through your balcony doors.
"Spider-Man!" you called out, as the cool night air kissed your face. You could feel goosebumps rise on your skin, as your thin pajamas did you no justice against the night coolness.
Although he was masked, you swore that Spider-Man was looking at you like you were some kind of freak of nature. But you ignored his gaze, noticing the way his clothed thigh had a massive dark-red splotch on it.
"I-Is that blood?" you peeped, pointing to his thigh. That would explain why Spider-Man had such an unceremonious crash landing into your apartment balcony; he was injured. You looked back up at the hero's masked face. "Spider-Man, are you okayâ"
"I-I'm fine!" Spider-Man blurted, his voice shaky and almost uncertain. The hero staggered, stumbling to his feet. You could tell that he was in pain, but was trying to hide it. "I'm okay."
You watched as Spider-Man limped, quietly wincing in pain to the railing of your balcony, gripping it tightly to support himself.
He looked over his shoulder. Even when his face wasn't visible, it was like he was sheepish. Timid, even.
"I'm...." Spider-Man began. You could see his toned back tense. "I'm sorry."
You blinked. "For what?"
The hero hesitated. Why was Spider-Man being so... shy? And unassuming? Wasn't he this grand and powerful hero?
"For...." he drew out his syllables, as if he was grasping for thoughts in his head. "For abruptlyâ umâ crashing. Into... your apartment."
A curve formed on your lips. "No, no. no!" you waved your hands in front of yourself. "Don't worry at all!"
You glanced at the wound on his thigh. Blood ran down his thigh, seeping through his costume. "Are you sure you'reâ"
Spider-Man interrupted you with a loud groan of pain, as he attempted to take a step forward. He crumbled to his knees, choked cries of pain falling from his lips.
The hero cursed under his breath, muttering about some "bastard" stabbing him.
You rushed to his side, your arms wrapping around his torso to pull him back to his feet. Despite being in pain from his injury, he seemed even more baffled by your touch, flinching away.
"S-Sorry," he apologized again.
"It's okay," you shot him a small smile. "Why don't you come inside?"
Jungwon wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
After his tutoring session with one of your neighbors, Jungwon went home and decided to take a long nap. After all, running into you, his ex, was definitely not something that he intended to do. He needed a nap to clear his mind.
Except, that was not what Jungwon got. Instead, he got another dream of you dying. Combined with seeing you getting controlled by that supervillain, Jungwon was not in the right headspace when he awoke.
Once again, with goosebumps littering his arms, cold sweat rolling down his temples, Jungwon's first instinct, as always, was to jump out of that damn window and take a lap around the city. By the time he finished a lap, it was already dark, and yet neither his mind nor body had the sharp precision that he needed to fight criminals.
Which was why when fighting a group of bandits, Jungwon dishonorably got stabbed in the thigh (though, of course, he kicked their asses to the moon).
And after he tried to swing away via his webs, his painful wound in the thigh made him miscalculate and web, and he tumbled down from the sky.
And that's how Jungwon found himself sitting on your bed.
This time, instead of breaking up with you, he was clad in his spandex suit, waiting for you as you rummaged through your bathroom cabinet.
Jungwon looked around your room. Everything was the same.
You had the same plushies on your bed, with the scent of your perfume still strong in the air. Your desk is still cluttered with the same papers and pens.
Everything, and really everything, was the same. Like one of those unfortunate true-crime cases, where someone dies under mysterious circumstances, and yet their home is completely untouched, with no signs of disturbance. As if nothing had changed at all, save for the absence of life.
It was a strange stillness, and yet, Jungwon shook his head. He was in no position to judge. Though, Jungwon's eyes did catch something interesting.On your desk lay a messy stack of envelopes and papers, some crumpled up and others pristinely folded. Like letters.
And maybe Jungwon was paranoid, or heartbroken, but his mind wandered to the worst places. Were you seeing another guy? Maybe the guy that you went on that date with. Was that why you were probably writing love notes?
Have you moved on that quickly? Was it that easy to forget him? Jungwon's heart ached, and against his better judgement, he rose to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his thigh. He creeped up to your desk, limping with each step. With each inch closer, he could feel the world shattering around him.
And when he realized that there was an unfinished letter already in the works, freely laying on your desk, his heart dropped.
Jungwon gazed at the stack of letters, then back at the half-written letter played on your desk. But his eyes caught the heading of the letter: 'Dear Spider-Man.'
And it was now that Jungwon realized another crucial detail: your phone, also laying on your desk, was playing music. Playing music from the playlist that you and him made together.
"Spider-Man?"
Jungwon whipped his head around as your voice pulled him out of thought. And before he could even question why you would be writing to him of all people, you were already throwing all of your bandages onto your bed, rushing profusely to him as you cried, "Don't look at those!"
You tugged on Jungwon's arm, pulling him and gently pushing him onto your bed. Your bottom lip jutted out into a small pout, your face painted with an embarrassed expression.
"You were not supposed to see that," you murmured with your brows knitted together, standing in front of the now sitting hero. When Jungwon didn't respond, you continued, your voice breathy. "Justâ Just forget you saw anything."
Jungwon nodded slowly. Under the mask, he glanced back to your desk. Were all of those letters addressed to him? As in, Spider-Man? And why were you still listening to that playlist?
"It's okay," he said reassuringly, even though he was extremely uncertain himself. "I didn't see anything."
You visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh. "I-It's just embarrassing."
Your eyes fluttered up to Jungwon's masked face. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jungwon could tell by the way your lips trembled ever-so-slightly and your brows crashed together that you felt uncomfortable.
You made that face when you felt like you needed to talk. Jungwon swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his arms opening up and his palms opening. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"Butâ"
Jungwon hoped that you could see his earnest smile from behind his mask. "I mean it. Don't worry about it."
Your eyes narrowed, as if you were studying his face. You sighed again. "Okay, sorry."
A silence engulfed the two of you, as you reached for the bandages and first-aid supplies that you had so abruptly thrown onto your bed earlier, completely unaware of the way Jungwon watched you so intently. He hadn't been so close to you in so long. With every flicker of your eyes and twitch of your face, Jungwon admired you closely.
What he would do to reach out and cup your cheek again, to feel your living and breathing self against his hands. To verify that you hadn't died. To confirm that you were safe and sound, alive and well.
"Can Iâ" you started, breaking the silenceâ "Can I help with your wound?"
Jungwon blinked. He had high levels of regeneration, so in a few hours, the wound on his thigh would be completely gone. It would be better to not waste both of your time.
But how you looked at him with wide, innocuous eyes, filled with worry and your characteristic kindness, Jungwon's greed clouded his mind.
"I would love that," Jungwon replied, his voice a near whisper.
How shameful of him, to sit here and selfishly bask in your presence as if he hadn't broken your heart.
You smiled, taking your rubbing alcohol and coming to Jungwon's side. Quickly, you started at your ministrations. Jungwon hissed at the burning sensation of the rubbing alcohol on his open wound (he had forgotten what it felt like), whispering apologies with each squeak of pain that fell from his lips. You hummed to yourself, your delicate face so focused.
"You know, Spider-Man," you began as you continued treating his wound, your voice soft, "I always wonder if you remember me."
Jungwon scoffed, his lips moving faster than his brain. Breathy, but eager, words came out, in a tone that Jungwon had always reserved for you. "How could I ever forget you, [Name]?"
You let out a peep, your face slowly morphing into a flustered expression. "W-What are you talking about?"
Shit. "I-I meanâ"
Jungwon's ears burned, the apples of his cheeks prickling with warmth. This is not what he meant to do! Jungwon cleared his throat, sucking in a sharp breath to recompose himself.
"W-What I meant was that Iâ" Jungwon narrowed his eyes, thinking of an explanationâ "I could never forget what happened at Bisco's."
You blinked at him a few times, your face breaking out into a frown. "Oh."
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. Did that make you upset?
"I always remember the people that I save," he continued, observing your facial expressions carefully. "I could never forget the impact I made on others, and that includes you, [Name]."
You shook your head understanding, but Jungwon could still see the frown on your face. "You're right," you said. Your eyes met with his. "You really have made an impact on me, Spider-Man."
You reached for the bandages, beginning to slowly wrap them around his wounded thigh.
"You know..." you started slowly. A bashful curve formed on your lips, nearly forming one of those cute grins that you always did whenever you felt particularly happy or appreciative. "I think about you quite a bit."
Jungwon cocked a brow.
"The truth is," you continued, the bashful expression on your face growing, "I write letters to you whenever I feel like shit."
"Why?" Jungwon blurted. He knew he probably shouldn't ask. It would make him spiral even harder, but his curiosity got the better of him.
You let out a chuckle, closing your eyes and shaking your head in embarrassment. "Because you saved me. And because you're a pretty universal symbol of strength and reliability."
You looked up at him again, flexing your arms with a goofy grin. "You're this city's number one defender. I write to you because I feel like even if I can't send you anything, I could rely on you, y'know?"
"Yeah," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't seen you smile like that in a while, and your reasoning was un-surprisingly sweet. Because you were that type of person. He couldn't help the way his lips pulled up into a small smile. "That makes sense."
"How about you, Spider-Man?" you asked.
"What about me?"
"What do you do when you feel like shit?" you cocked your head, blinking owlishly. "You must go through a lot as a hero. What makes you feel like you should keep going?"
You, he thought. You were what made him want to keep being a good person. All his deep fears of failure and imperfection were intrinsically rooted in his desires to make himself worthy for you. It was all you.
"You," Jungwon said. But he couldn't have you. "... And other people that I've saved. Knowing that I have helped others is enough to keep me going."
You nodded your head, understanding, your lips forming an 'oh' shape. You continued wrapping his thigh with bandages. "Do you ever check up on the people that you save?"
"I wish I could," Jungwon responded. "I would love to check up on everyone."
"So why don't you?"
You were always so curious. Jungwon pursed his lips. "Because there's too many people that I've saved. I don't know all of them by name. I don't know how to find them."
You hummed. You finished wrapping Jungwon's leg with bandages, using scissors to cut the cloth bandages and securing them. You patted your hands off, sending the hero another smile. "Aaaand you're all done."
"Thank you," Jungwon held a fixed gaze on you again. It took all of his self-control to not throw his arms around you and embrace you. "I don't know how I can repay youâ"
You waved your hands in front of you profusely. "No, no! I'm repaying you for saving meâ"
Jungwon shook his head. "If it wasn't for your balcony, I would have probably died."
You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating, before a lightbulb seemingly popped above your head. You swiftly took Jungwon's hands, squeezing them tightly.
"Come visit me."
Jungwon spluttered. "W-What?"
"You said that you didn't know how to repay me, and that you didn't check up on people you saved because you didn't know how to find them," you gushed eagerly. "You found me. You can repay me by visiting me ever so often."
"Butâ But why?"
You shrugged. "It gets lonely sometimes," was all you said, but your wide and glassy eyes staring up at him so pleadingly made it hard to say no. "Please?"
"I'll try."
You didn't catch it at first. "What?"
"I'll try," Jungwon murmured. "To come back. If I can."
You chuckled. "Good enough for me."
Jungwon wasn't sure if he made a promise that he could keep.
"Good morning! Welcome to Maeum's Coffee Shop, what can I get youâ Damn it, [Name], did you have a rough night again?"
You winced at Wonyoung's words. Wonyoung worked at a local coffee shop, and as a good friend, you always came in to support her.
It's been a few days since you found Spider-Man on your balcony, and you would be lying if you said that you weren't excited. You stayed up a few nights waiting for Spider-Man to crash-land on you again. It wasn't anything romantic for sure, you were just interested in talking to him. The truth was, you stayed up most nights anyway. You stayed up most nights thinking about everything, unable to truly rest. If you were going to be restless, you might as well think about your new friend Spider-Man.
"The usual," you murmured to your friend, who hummed understandingly, despite you completely ignoring her question. You rubbed your eyes. "I'm so tired, Wonyoung."
Wonyoung's bright eyes ran over your figure: you were wearing sweats with a hoodie draped over your shoulders, as if you just woke up. She chuckled at you, before ringing you up. "We could go to the beach after my shift, if you want."
You groaned as you swiped your card. You didn't feel like doing anything, but when it was Wonyoung, it was hard to say no. "Fine."
You grinned lazily as she cheered, before you took a seat in the coffee shop, slumping over yourself as you waited for your coffee. You could hear some light jazz playing, but especially the laughter of Wonyoung as she charmed customers, and most importantly, the flagrant whispers of her coworkers.
There was always one downside of visiting Wonyoung while she worked: her coworkers, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, who just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend's best friends. And now as you tried to fight your tiredness, all you could hear now was their whispers. Their frantic whispers.
If you weren't literally about to fall asleep, pulling your hood over your head, you would have shot them a glare, maybe even text Wonyoung to tell them to shut up.
"....that's definitely his..." you could hear Jake whisper-yell.
"...ngwon's gonna blow his shit..... Hurry, call him!"
"âShit, he's on his way already!"
Ding! The doorbell of the coffee shop rang, making everyone in the shop (including yourself) turn their heads. And lo and behold, standing at the doorway was none other than your ex-boyfriend.
You couldn't even bring yourself to care. You could hear his friends practically shouting in the back while your phone pinged a billion messages from Wonyoung, but you just continued to push your face into your arms, taking comfort in the hoodie that you had thrown on this morning.
You hoped that Jungwon didn't notice that you were here. Maybe that would be better for your mental stability.
"[N-Name]?" Sunoo's shaky voice called out from the counter, where Sunoo, Sunghoon, and Jake liked to hang around. Your drink was ready. Finally.
Lifting yourself off of the cafe table, you trudged over to the counter, only a few feet away from the cash register. Where Jungwon was standing, getting ready to order. Which meant that he 100% saw you, and now he 100% knows that you're here.
Damn it. You really couldn't take seeing his face today. You fiddled with your hood, pulling it closer to you to hide your face.
"Here's your.... drink," Sunoo said, slowly and awkwardly, as if you were some alien. You rolled your eyes, fighting the horrible feeling of Jungwon's eyes boring into the back of your head, as you took your coffee from the counter.
As you read over the labeling and Sharpie'd name on your cup, you verified that this drink was indeed yours. And just as you were about to turn on your heel and get the fuck out of there (away from Jungwon, who was now 100000% staring at you), Jake just had to open his mouth.
"I-Isn't that Jungwon's hoodie?" Jake blurted, throwing an accusatory finger at the hoodie draped over your shoulders.
You didn't know what came first: Wonyoung's gasp from the cash register, you choking on your spit, or Jungwon spluttering from where he was. Sunoo and Sunghoon whacked Jake in the head, but the damage was already done.
Once again, for no apparent reason, you and Jungwon found each other. You couldn't fight the urge to turn over your shoulder and spot Jungwon, who was staring at you with big, shivering eyes, his ears red and his lips agape. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. Your emotions were so erratic. Sometimes when you saw pictures of Jungwon you felt nothing, but now that he was in front of you, face to face, you wanted to scream and cry.
You looked down at the hoodie that enveloped you. Now that Jake mentioned it, yes, this hoodie was Jungwon's. In fact, you could remember how you acquired such a thing. One time, it was raining so Jungwon let you wear his hoodie, and you never gave it back. What once belonged to Jungwon was now yours, and you've made it such a normal part of your life that you forgot that it had ever been his.
This hoodie, having lived in your closet for months and months, smelled like your own laundry detergent. And as you brusquely walked past Jungwon, blinking back the tears that you hadn't even noticed were collecting in your eyes, you wished for something abnormal: you wished that this hoodie still smelled like Jungwon, even after all this time.
So that you could have something to remember him by.
Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath. Temptation was a work of sin, and unfortunately, it was not his fault that the devil was stronger than a man.
There were many reasons that Jungwon was so committed to keeping a distance from you. He wanted to respect your space, and he was dedicated to protecting you. But even more, there was an intimacy that was never speaking to you again. In his last act of love for you, Jungwon would grant you the peace that his presence could never give you. He hoped that his absence spoke of the words that he could never have said. And yet, as Jungwon sat on the ledge of some building, he watched the cars pass wistfully a few hundred meters below his feet.
In the daytime, he felt like he could deal with the guilt and loneliness. But at night, it was nearly impossible. It's been another week since Jungwon had uneventfully landed on your balcony, and you had requested that he, as Spider-Man, visit you.
And frankly, Jungwon wasn't going to visit you. Even if he promised you, he was so sure that he couldn't keep it. After all, he had a commitment. But when the summer air is so warm yet so unforgiving, sending hot beads of sweat running down Jungwon's face, the frustration and guilt festered, devouring Jungwon from the inside out. That was how Jungwon found himself only a few buildings away from your apartment. He teetered on the ledge. Half of him wanted so desperately to just swing onto your balcony again, to just see you again. But the other half of him couldn't stand putting you in harm's way any longer.
So imagine Jungwon's shame as he picked up his feet and swung by your apartment. All he wanted to do was check on you. He had good eyes, so hopefully he'd be able to catch a glimpse of you through your windows as he briefly came by. And yet, instead of finding you safe and sound through your bedroom window, what Jungwon saw from a distance was you, on your balcony, looking sad. Wistful, even. You had your arms over the railings, and even when he was afar, Jungwon could recognize any of your expressions, and this one, he could tell that you were crying.
His body moved faster than his mind, with zero hesitation, zooming right onto your balcony. Jungwon's mind was still racing, questions blurring through his mind, hesitating about what he should do. Why were you crying? Was it someone that made you feel this way? But his body knew his intentions better. His body knew the sorts of yearning that he had no chance of resisting. And just as swift as he came, Jungwon found himself breathing heavily as he landed back on the railing of your balcony.
"S-Spider-man?!" you sniffled. Under the dark sky, he could see the way your eyes lined with tears, your tearful eyes puffy and bloodshot. You quickly hid your face in your sleeve, turning your face away from him. "WhâWhat are you doing here?"
"I..." Jungwon's mouth ran dry. He didn't have an answer for you. Seeing you like this made him feel on-edge, nervous even. He didn't know why he was here with you. He didn't know why his body forced him to keep crawling back to you. He didn't want to be here, it went against all instinct. He stared at the back of your head. "I'mâ Umâ"
You let out a loud, high-pitched sob, before you threw your arms around Jungwon's shoulders, burying yourself into his chest. Jungwon stiffened under your touch. It felt weird. He hadn't been close to really anyone at all, at least not physically. If it wasn't you that he was physically intimate with, he'd rather not have it at all. But even when it was you, intimacy felt so foreign, so lost. But as your choked sobs rung through the air, your arms holding onto him like he'd save you, Jungwon relaxed. Mixed in with the smell of the night air, you smelled like your usual peachy perfume. Your touch, just like he had remembered it, was soft. Kind.
Jungwon brought a hesitant hand up to the small of your back, in an attempt to quell your distress. Yet, he felt such a weird warmth as you clung onto him.
"I hâhate him, Spider-Man!" you cried, your hand gripping his forearm. "I hate himâ so much."
And maybe if Jungwon was stronger than he was now, he would have just listened to you silently without any questions, patting your back and lending you a shoulder to cry on. But he wasn't.
"Who?" he breathed into your ear, his brows knitted together. That horrible gnawing feeling filled his stomach once again. He didn't want to know what your answer was, but that sickening curiosity was burning from the inside out. "Who do you hate?âDid youâ Did you get hurt?"
You shook your head, looking up at the hero. The moonlight reflected off your eyes. You looked so pretty, even when you were crying. Jungwon's heart ached at the sight of your pained face. My baby, he thought. After all this time, you could commit all the grievances in the world, and if you just looked at him with your big, teary eyes, he would acquit you of all your crimes.
You tugged on his arm, your glossy eyes staring at him like he was some god, pulling him back into your room. And against all resolutions that Jungwon tried to make to himself, he followed you in anyway.
As your balcony door clicked shut, Jungwon watched as you pulled him onto your bed with you, pulling him as close as you could as you continued to cry, murmuring about how much you hated "him."
This time, Jungwon just let his eyes fall shut. He hadn't laid down in your bed in a while, and frankly, he thought your bed was more comfortable than his. With you so close to him, and his arms wrapped around you, for a split second, it felt like he was back together with you. It felt like another one of those nights where you'd cry into his arms about how stressed you were, and all he could offer up was his presence to console you.
"I know, I know," he gently whispered into your ears. You always loved it when he reassured you like that. He rubbed slow circles on your back, continuing to whisper soft reassurances into your ear, even if he knew that you couldn't hear him. "I know, love."
"I c-cant get over him," you lamented. At this point, Jungwon's chest was wet. "I don't know why I c-can't. I h-hate him so much."
Jungwon gulped as his gut twisted.
"Tell me," he rasped. He knew what your words meant. He knew better than anyone that you were talking about him, that it was him that you hated. But he needed to hear it from your lips first, to get real confirmation. Despite the weak feeling in his knees and the pang in his chest, he wanted to listen to you.
After all, he'd do anything to make you feel better, even if you didn't know it was him. And he knew how to do that exactly.
You lifted your head to look at him in the eyes, shaking your head profusely. "But i-it's paâpathetic," you stammered, but when you could feel Jungwon's unwavering gaze on you, you gave in. Resting your cheek on the hero's shoulder, you spoke in a low, shaky voice. You told him everythingâ every thought and emotion that's been swirling your mind. You told him of how you still constantly thought about Jungwon, how you felt like in every crevice of your life he was there, how you've done everything you could to get over him with fruitless results. You cried and cried and cried. You detailed to him what types of restless nights you had, what kinds of thoughts swirled through your head whenever you thought about your ex.
"I miss him," you ended your tear-filled rant with. "I mi-miss him s-so much and I feel soâso d-dumb."
And if you weren't so caught up in your feelings, you would have noticed how the hero's body tensed with each word that fell from your lips.
A silence fell over you and Spider-Man, as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, letting your bated breaths calm down with each hiccup. You let your heart rate slow down, as your eyesâ sore from cryingâ rested. Against you, the hero was so... still. He was definitely breathing, but it was slow and tranquil. If you listened hard enough, you could hear his heart beat; weirdly enough, it was erratic and loud.
That's what Jungwon's heartbeat sounds like when he's excited, you thought, before shaking your head and pushing that thought into the back of your mind. The mere thought of Jungwon made your stomach churn. You didn't want to even entertain that thought.
"Spider-Man...." you began in a soft voice, your finger coming up to poke his masked face. No response. "Spider-Man, are you asleepâ"
Suddenly, Jungwon jolted up from the bed, his voice ripping through the air: "Boo!"
You let out a loud shriek, jumping away from him, surprised. You stared at him for a few moments, before Jungwon bursted out into giggles. On your bed, you watched as the red-and-blue masked hero who had just tried to startle you attempted to conceal his giggles, clamping a hand over his mouth.
"S-Sorryâ" his voice was shaky, trying so goddamn hard not to laugh. Airy laughs escaped his lips, filling the air with something that felt all too familiar.
Despite having just cried for what seemed like forever, you slapped his chest, your lips pulling up into a wobbly smile. Spider-Man's laughter was contagious, and even as you continued to lightly punch him, you couldn't help but let giggles fall from your own mouth.
"Sh-Shut up!" you said between laughs. Having enough, you reached for a stray pillow and threw it at him. "You're so annoying!"
You couldn't remember the last time you laughed like this with someone. In fact, perhaps if you weren't so busy beating Spider-Man up like your life depended on it, you would have noticed the way your beloved hero was watching you closely. Jungwon knew exactly how to get you to loosen up; and in this case, it was to do something so stupid and dorky that you had no choice but to laugh.
"Ow! Ow!" Jungwon squirmed like a spider that had just gotten hit by bug spray. He let you win, as now he was pinned down on the bed, with you smothering him with your pillows. "White flagâAck!"
Your laughter rang through the room. You weren't even that strong, but Jungwon did not dare to use his own strength on you. That wouldn't be fair.
That's right, he thought. Forget about me. Forget about the pain, forget about everything that I've done to you. Your eyes crinkled and your nose scrunched and your lips parted when you threw your head back and laughed. If he could preserve that laughter for the rest of his life, he would. Forget about me, baby.
"Jesus Christ, Spider-Man!" you snickered, as you held him down with a hand on his hard chest. "I thought you were stronger than this."
Jungwon's strong hand slid to wrap around your wrist. "You really wanna see strength?"
A weak yet sly grin spread across your face. You leaned down to him, so close that your noses touched. Almost purring,"Try meâ Eek!"
That was all the confirmation he needed. In an instant, Jungwon flipped the two of you over, crashing into the soft plushness of your bed. This time, he was the one pinning you down. And while airy laughter fell from your lips, the surprise of Jungwon's outburst reducing you to giggles, Jungwon was distracted. You're just so pretty, so strikingly beautiful that he had no choice but to admire you.
And if Jungwon wasn't so distracted, he would have noticed the way that you stared at him owlishly, with a type of hunger and curiosity that was all too familiar. As if a lightbulb had switched on, your arms slithered up from under him to wrap around his neck. With glassy eyes and a girlish giggle, you gently pulled him toward your face.
Jungwon's body froze up as you plant a soft, tender kiss on his masked cheek, a spluttering sound coming from his mouth.
"Relax, silly," you rasped into his ear with a chuckle. Even with the mask, your fingers found their way to the crook between Jungwon's ear and jaw, delicately running your fingers over that spot and mindlessly caressing itâ something that always made shivers roll down Jungwon's back. "You can save lives but you can't handle a girl kissing you?"
Jungwon's face felt hot. "Shutâ Shut up!" That night, you eventually laughed yourself to sleep, and after tucking you in, Jungwon left with a bittersweet feeling in his chest. He hoped that he'd given you any type of emotional refuge, so that you would eventually forget the hurt and pain that he had caused you.Â
To be a girl, after a long week of stress, unloading your worries and the like in a nice steamy bathâ Oh, that is the best thing any person could experience.
You relished in the warm solitude of your bathtub. You hummed along to the quiet music you liked to play when you bathed, the peachy bubbles and scent of your soap filling your senses. You relaxed with an "ahh" into the water. Tonight was going to be perfect. After this bath, you were going to do your skincare routine and lather yourself with your new yummy lotion. Then you'd go make yourself a late night snack. Then maybe you'd spend the night reading some manga, or watching some shows, or anything you wanted frankly.
You had worries: finding an internship, employment, boy troubles. But this was no time to care about them. You let your eyelids gently fall shut... and maybe if you weren't careful, you might... just... drift... off...
"Eep!" You're startled back into reality by the sound of a distant crash! You glance around your bathroom, clutching yourself. It didn't sound nearby, so you had nothing to worry about. You sunk into the water again, letting your tense muscles relax into the warmth. Your tired eyes fell closed again. And maybe this time.... you'd be permitted the peace... to just... drift... off...
Crash! You jolted up, your eyes shooting open. This time, this crashing sound was much louder, and appeared to be much closer. Following that outburst was the sound of rustling and scrambling, which (in your already paranoid state) confirmed your fears that whatever the cause was, it was too close to you.
Emboldened, you stepped out of your bathtub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body tightly, before slipping your shower slippers on.
And maybe you're dumb. Really dumb. But you peaked your head out your bathroom door, eyes glazing over the hallway between your bathroom and kitchen. Everything seemed fine. You crept out of the bathroom. Your entire apartment was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. Slowly, you made your way into your bedroom. It looked normal, not a single hair out of place. Nothing was wrong then.
Since you were already out of the bathroom, you should probably start dressing anyway. You loosened your grip around the towel, and just as the fabric fell from your chestâ
"[N-Name]?!"
There had to be something psychological about the way bright red and blue were incredible at camouflaging, because you had not noticed the red and blue superhero perched at your window. And it seemed like he didn't notice you either, until now.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried. But it was too late. There you were, naked in all your glory and exposed entirely to the spider hero himself. You didn't know what was worse. The feeling of the cool air hitting your skin, sending goosebumps on your arms, or the feeling of Spider-Man practically ogling at you. It didn't seem to matter because the two of you stood like that: in silence, in complete and utter horror.
"I-I'm..." You've never seen Spider-Man more flustered, but if you weren't too busy trying to cover yourself up, scrambling for your fallen towel, you would have noticed the way the hero's hand shot up to clutch his face in embarrassment. A habit that you loved to see in your ex-boyfriend. "S... Sorrâ"
"Get out!" you cried, clutching your towel so tightly as you began reaching for all of the pillows and plushes on your bed, hurling at the hero at full-force. Your face burned with embarrassment as you heaved. "Out! N-Now!"
Spider-Man simply stood there, stunned, which was weird considering that he should have a fast enough reaction time to stop you. Frustrated, you threw yourself on your bed, throwing the blanket over your naked body and pushing your face into the mattress, humiliated and flustered beyond belief.
"Get out!" you cried again, your eyes almost welling up with tears with how embarrassed you were. You felt so hot all over that you could probably melt. You hadn't felt this wayâ this flustered and embarrassedâ in so long. You murmured, "What are you even doing here?!"
Finally breaking from his stupor, Spider-Man spluttered, "I-I just wanted to check up... on you."
You groaned from under the blanket, muffled, and that seemed to egg the hero on with a squeak. Words tumbling from his mouth like water, he squeals, "It seems like you're doing well! YoulookgoodaseverâI meanâ In all the years I've known you, you always look amazingâ Likeâ Uhmâ Iâ You're alwaysâ" he sucked in a deep breath, and you could hear how red his face was under the maskâ "Beautiful."
There's a long silence, before Spider-Man nearly shouts, "Okay bye!"
And with that, he climbed out your balcony, and swung away. You stay where you are under the blanket all huddled up for a few moments, before you let out a giddy little chuckle. You flipped over to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, before it hit you.
"Years?" you said aloud. Spider-Man said that you've been beautiful in all the "years" that he's known you.
You sat up. But you swore you only knew him for a few months.
Hm. Interesting.
Jungwon cursed under his breath. Fuck. He was in a pickle. After a few weeks in hiding, archvillain Baron von Fizzlebang was back for more, this time with more to show. It seemed like every time, he was getting progressively worse and worse. New gadgets, new costumes, new methods of entrancing people. First, Baron von Fizzlebang entranced a mob to rob a bank. Then, he controlled some elementary schoolers and tried to get them to walk into oncoming traffic (really evil of him). Most recently, the supervillain tried to possess the entire fire department and make them commit arson in an ironic turn of events. If it weren't for Jungwon's restless fighting, the entire city might have gone up in flames already.
Simultaneously, against his own better judgement, yet in alignment with his heart, Jungwon found himself intentionally coming to see you more. It's shameful that despite cutting you out of his life he still tried to keep you at an arm's reach. But oh, Jungwon was so greedy. Each time your face lit up when he appeared on your balcony left him eager for more. Every smile and little touch had him hungry. Hungry for more of you, hungry to keep you for himself, hungry to hide you from the world and selfishly have you all to himself. And the worst part was, your grief and sadness over civilian-Jungwon was slowly dissipating with time: you were reverting back to the you that he knew, not the sad, crestfallen version of you.
But, he had no time to think of that. Right now, Jungwon was beaten up pretty badly, resting atop the roof of a building and leaning against some structure there.
It's not easy to fight one Baron von Fizzlebang, when he's able to manipulate up to a hundred people to do his own bidding. Jungwon doesn't want to hurt the civilians under Baron von Fizzlebang's control, but how is he supposed to win at all if these civilians are being used to attack him?
One eye was incapacitated, with blood dripping down Jungwon's forehead and his lip bleeding. Even in the darkening night sky, Jungwon could tell that there were a few tears here and there on his hero costume, but the worst part was that Jungwon's right shoulder was most definitely out of commission.
Luckily, Jungwon got the victimized civilians to safety. Unluckily, Baron von Fizzlebang was still on the loose, pretty much unscathed. Jungwon could work under severe pressure, with great injuries too. But for some reason, he absolutely couldn't think straight as he stumbled to his feet, clutching his injured shoulder. He blinked his one working eye slowly, trying to see clearly, but there was too much blood coming from his head after getting slammed against a brick wall for him to get a clear view.
At the very least, Jungwon needed to locate where the villain wentâ
"Yoo-hoo!" a sing-songy voice boomed, and Jungwon whipped his pounding head around. "Spidey-Spidey!~"
Lo and behold, Baron von Fizzlebang was (for some reason) suspended in the air, completely uninjured, a stark difference from Jungwon's hunched-over, painful form. With his extravagant costume, he waved mockingly at Jungwon, a cackle spilling from him. "I'm back for more, Spidey. Are you?"
Jungwon's eyes narrowed, a pained grunt escaping his lips before he limped toward the villain. He sucked in a sharp breath. The blood from his bleeding lip tasted metallic on his tongue, but his physical pain mattered notâ not when the livelihood and safety of the city was on the line because of this maniac.
"Yeah," Jungwon responded breathily, stumbling. "Come get me."
Much to Jungwon's chagrin, from Baron von Fizzlebang came some strange metal contraption. With big and long metal tentacle arms with grabby hands at the ends, Baron von Fizzlebang laughed maniacally as his new gargantuan device conjured a physical reaction out of Jungwon. Faster than Jungwon could move, the villain's metal arms snatched him up.
"Let me goâAck!" Jungwon squirmed in the contraption's grasp.
"No," Baron von Fizzlebang said simply. "All you do is ruin my plans to take over this city!"
Jungwon cried in pain as the metal hands squeezed him tighter. The villain laughed again. "Have you ever had to experience someone try to ruin something you care about, Spider-Man?" Jungwon opened his mouth to choke a retort, but the Baron continued. "Or in your case, someone that you care about?"
Jungwon continued to squirm in the metal hands' grasp, the villain taking it as a sign to continue his villainous monologue.
"You don't think that I don't know you have a secret little girlfriend, right? She's the same one I claimed that one night at Bisco's." At the sound of that, Jungwon tensed up even more. No.... Don't tell me.."Maybe I should let this little spider go. To make you really feel my pain, why don't I go pay your little girlfriend a visit again."
"No!â" tore from Jungwon's throat, but it was too late. With panic filling his body, Baron von Fizzlebang's metal tentacles hurled him through the sky before the villain took off. Presumably to find you. And even though Jungwon was falling through the sky with an incapacitated eye and shoulder, all he could think about was you.
Every single fear and made-up scenario of you getting hurt or even worse, dying, as a result of Jungwon ran through his head in the milliseconds that he was in the air.
Just as Jungwon was about to slam against a sky-scraper, he shot a web to catch himself. His hands shook as he stabilized himself against another wall.
Dammit, dammit, dammitâ I'm so fucking stupidâ She's in danger nowâ Everything that he had feared was coming true, and it was all a result of Jungwon's selfishness and negligence andâ Jungwon took a deep breath, not noticing that he had neglected to breathe as he spiraled. He shoved his face in his hands. Think, think, think. He had to do something.
He looked at his hands. He had to go find you, and warn you. Move you to safety, make sure you're somewhere safe where that maniac couldn't find you.
Even with all his injuries, nothing stopped Jungwon as he shot webs across the sky. With all the remaining strength in his body, and with all the power he could muster up, Jungwon flew across the sky to where he knew you'd be: in your apartment.
And just as he expected, you were in your room, peacefully listening to music and painting your nails. Usually, he'd be courteous and wait for you to welcome him in. But Jungwon had no time to waste: he crashed onto your balcony, practically busting into your room through the doors.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried, startled by his sudden entrance.
"You have to leave," Jungwon breathed with labored huffs. He clamored toward you, grabbing you by your shoulders. "I-I don't have time to explainâ"
"Whatâ What are you talking about?â"
Jungwon gripped your shoulders, the vehemence in his voice resounding as he desperately repeated, "You have to leave. It-It's not safe for youâ I need you to leave and go somewhere saâ"
"Spider-Man," you said firmly. Jungwon breathed shakily, swallowing down hard. He shook his head. It felt like the world had fallen into his shoulders.
"Please, [Name]," he pleaded. Even with a mask, you can hear his sheer desperation. "Please listen to me this time."
You stared at him, with a curious yet concerned look, like you were studying him. âPlease,â Jungwon said again, his voice high-pitched and cracking. His grip on you loosened, but his head hung low.âPlease.â
You kept your eyes stuck on him, but Jungwon couldnât focus. All he could think about was how you could die. Everything hurt, and yet nothing did at the same time. The mere thought of something even worse happening to you made Jungwonâs gut twist, the oncoming fear so great that it effectively numbed everything in him.
âI canâtâ I canât lose youââ
There was something unsettling about you that Jungwon never figured out. Youâre sensitive and soft, but strong-willed and stern. But youâre also a level of smart that Jungwon couldnât understand.
Which was why he couldnât possibly understand why you grabbed him by his shoulders, pulled him into you, and slammed your lips against his. You let your lips stay on his for a little bit, but before you could pull away, all the hunger and fear consumed Jungwon whole. His large hands grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. Greedily, like a starved man, Jungwon hungrily kissed you back, holding you tightly as his breathing picked up.
Maybe it was all the adrenaline, or the pain and delirium, or just Jungwonâs fear, but he didnât even think about what he was doing. Your lips against his, your body pressed against him, and your scent overtaking his mindâ it all made it impossible for him to stop.
He muttered your name against your lips, grasping you like youâd disappear any minute. Your soft body on him felt heavenly, as he drank you in. Everything felt hot and everything ached, but even with his mask on, it felt so delicious. He heaved as your lips moved against his. A choked breath and whimper escaped his lips as you slid tongue into his mouth, your hands slithering up his chest and wrapping around his neck, the way that he always liked it. Almost like you knew how to make him feel good.
The kiss halted to a slow stop, with the two of you gently pulling away. And Jungwon, too dazed, didnât know what to expect nextâ and he definitely didnât expect the next words that came out of your mouth.
"Jungwon," you hummed against his lips, looking at him with an expression that he couldn't read. Jungwon's heart plummeted to his stomach, shaky eyes widening.
"Wh-Whatâ" he began, but you brought a finger up to his lip, hushing him. No way. There's no way that you knew it was him all alongâ
"You need to calm down, Jungwon," you said as you pulled away from him, eyes glued to his masked face. You took his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his hand slowly, the way that always helped calm him down. "I know you. You're spiraling. We can't do anything if you're panicking. Deep breaths."
"I don'tâ I don't understand," Jungwon whispered, his strong body still. Had you known it was him all along? And if you did, why didn't you say or do anything? Did you find him pathetic? "How did you know?"
You blinked at him slowly, before a bashful grin pulled onto your face. You reached your hand out to him, your palm finding itself on his cheek. In a moment of instinct, Jungwon leaned into your touch.
"That's how I knew," you breathed. Your lithe fingertips then prodded at the crook between his jaw and his ear, the sensitive spot, and just as you expected, Jungwon shuddered. Your fingers traced down his jaw to his neck, pressing on the tender spot in the middle of his neck. Much to Jungwon's personal mortification, he let out a gasp, and when you leaned closer to his neckâ so close that he could feel your breath on himâ Jungwon let out a soft sound and shivered. Your lip grazed against the covered skin of his neck, watching him intently as you earn a sensitive whimper from him.
"Whatâ What are you doingâ" Jungwon was cut off again by your lip pressing against his jugular, at the spot that never failed to make him cry out in pleasure. Jungwon's ears burned, but the blood rushing through his body made him feel hot all over. He leaned his head back, eyes falling shut.
"I know you, Jungwon." Your voice was low, almost like a purr. Your hands continued to run over his jaw and neck, hooking onto the edge of his mask and uncovering the honey tan skin of his neck. You pressed your lips against his exposed skin, another gasp falling from his lips. "You're not good at hiding anything. And you're not a convincing liar."
You pulled his mask up, exposing his lower jaw and lips. When he muttered your name startled, you pulled the entire mask off.
Lo and behold, just as you had expected, it was Jungwon Yang. You had your suspicions, and when you made them known to him you were certain that you were right. And yet, you're still taken aback when it's really Jungwon behind the mask. His overgrown blonde hair falling over his eyes, his cat-like eyes staring at you with a mix of fear, shame, and desire, his jaw that had gotten strongerâ you drank in every last bit of it.
"Son of a bitch," you murmured under your breath.
Jungwon hadn't noticed the way his chest pounded and how his breathing became erratic, nor did he notice that he was now blinking back tears, his chest heaving. "IâI'm sorryâ" he struggled to get out, his voice getting caught in his throat. "Ohâ I'm soâ I"m sorryâ"
He couldn't tell if you were angry, or disgusted, or both... because despite the unreadable look on your face, you still grabbed his face, slamming your lips against his once more.
Your fingers brusquely grab at his hair, tangling themselves in his grown-out blonde locks. This time, you're the hungry one. Your hands slid down his chest again, grasping onto his strong, toned arms, and running your hands all over him. Your lips moved surly against his, as if you hadn't been fed in days.
"You're a jackass," you rasped against him, and yet you kept kissing him like he'd disappear. "Fucking jackass." Jungwon tried to murmur apologies, but you kept kissing him, shutting him up. You pushed him against your bed slowly as your lips moved, so that he had no choice but to fall back onto it.
With Jungwon's back now pressed up against your bed, you were on top of him. Your hands roamed his body, and Jungwon couldn't help but let his eyes fall shut.
"I-I'm sorry," he rumbled, but with you on top of him, lips all over him, he couldn't do much but gasp and squirm under your touch. "I-I didn't mean toâ"
Boom! In the distance, a massive explosion sound careened through the air. You and Jungwon, both alarmed, froze in your position. Even with you filling his senses, Jungwon's immediate thought is simple: he is Spider-Man.
Jungwon felt your body tense against his, with fear painted on your face. His body felt hot all over, the excitement still pulsing through his veins and desperate need for you still clouding his mind. But a trembling, paralyzed you was enough to pull him away from himself, and force him to focus.
In one fell swoop, Jungwon pulls the two of you to your feet, his arms wrapping around your waist firmly, yet gently. Ignoring your questions, he felt around for his discarded mask, before shooting a web from his fingers and pulling it to him.
"You have to go," he said to you, his hands tightening around your waist. Jungwon watched as your brows crashed together, your expression morphing from bewilderment to hurt, and then anger.
"What are youâ Jungwonâ" Jungwon ignored you, quickly searching around your room. He took a jacket from your closet (which was definitely his), before draping it around your shoulders.
"I'm serious," he said, his voice cracking with earnestness. "I mean it, [Name]. You have to go."
It was your turn to splutter, scoffing in disbelief. "Where would I even go? I don't know why you're saying thisâ"
Jungwon chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments, before he huffed. "Go to Jake's."
You're about to scoff again, but Jungwonâ the most tender person you've ever metâ sent you a stern look that shuts you up.
"Tell him that I sent you," Jungwon instructed. "Tell him to keep you safe. And text me when you're there...." the boy trails off, awkwardly scratching his head, "If I'm not blocked, y'know.... Or just have Jake text me."
You stared at him in silence, blinking slowly, in an attempt to assess his face. Finally, you sigh, your face looking sad. "Okay."
Jungwon helped you collect your things, the two of you engulfed in a silence, with nothing filling your apartment but the ambient sound of your footsteps and breaths. That is, until it was time for you to go.
"I-I think I should go now," you said shakily, your back turned to Jungwon as you reached for your front door. Jungwon solemnly nodded, wistfully staring at you as he fiddled with his mask; his face was still uncovered, making it difficult to hide his concern, yet he didn't have the courage to put his mask back on. Not when you were here. And Jungwon would have let you go like that, alone into the night, if it weren't for the sound of your sniffles.
"Hey, hey," he called out to you, reaching out to you and taking hold of your shoulder. His brows furrowed. "[Name], what is it?"
You sniffled, your breath getting caught in your throat, and it was clear now that you were crying. However, you just shook your head, your back still turned to him.
"Baby," Jungwon said again. "Baby, please tell me. What is it? Why are you crying?"
The sound of Jungwon's voice made you tense up again. You let out a choked sob, before you sucked in a sharp breath. "Th-That."
Jungwon reached for your face, tilting your chin so that you would face him, but you wouldn't budge. "Talk to me. Please."
"That!" you cried. You sucked in another sharp breath as you threw your face into your palms. "Youâ You l-left me the first time... andâ and now you're leaving a-again."
Jungwon's chest ached, and in a moment of remorse and desire, he slid his hands around your waist, pulling you into an embrace with you pressed against his chest. The way you always liked it. He pressed his cheek against your head, his own tears welling up in his eyes as you sniffled and cried.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes squeezing shut. He knew he hurt you, it was nothing new to him. But just knowing that never made the regret feel any better. He kissed your head. "I'm so sorry."
There's another explosion in the distance, and Jungwon's hold on you tightened. "Please. I'll make it up to you. Please just go this time."
You shook your head. "IâI don't get it. J-Jungwon, I don't g-get itâ"
In your state, there was no way you'd make it to safety in time. And Jungwon was a fool for thinking that you could, not after opening up the wounds you were trying to heal from. Jungwon pressed one more kiss on your head. He hauled you into his arms, ignoring your protests, only saying, "Wrap your arms around me."
Jungwon wished he had more time. He wished he could sit you down and explain everything. But there was no time, and he had to make sure you were safe first: he'd like to do it himself. All the injuries from earlier had been healed for the most part, just enough that he had strength.
"Hold on tight, baby," he said in your ear before putting his mask on, and shooting a web out your window. Jungwon figured it was your first time soaring with Spider-Man, because you let out a squeal, hiding your face in his neck.
"Jungwon!" you cried, your eyes still lined with tears. "P-Please, I'm scaredâ"
Jungwon chuckled, but complied with your request, taking less risky swings. And when he arrived at Jake's apartment, he simply forced his friend's window open. Much to his luck, Jake was already there.
"S-Spider-Man?!" Jake gawked. It wasn't every day that the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man showed up at your window. Then, his eyes fell on you. "[N-Name]?!"
Gently, Jungwon set you down. "Jungwon's request: Keep her safe."
Jake, utterly baffled, opened his mouth to speak. But like a little boy (quite literally) seeing his favorite super-hero for the first time, Jake nodded dutifully, his eyes comically filling with stars. "Yes sir!"
Jungwon nodded satisfied. He knew he could count on Jake. As Jungwon readied himself to jump out the window, he's stopped by your soft voice.
"G-Good luck..." you murmured, fiddling with your fingers. "Don't die... please."
Jungwon couldn't help but grin. "Of course."
And with that, he swung away, ready to kick ass.
You're already asleep when Jungwon finds you back at Jake's house. He felt a little bad about placing the burden of you on Jake, but Jungwon couldn't care more about that when your life was on the line. Jungwon, in his hero form of course, left a note for Jake on the kitchen counter, as he slowly wrapped his arms around your sleeping figure.
You're left sleeping on Jake's couch, with a throw blanket awkwardly draped over you. He appreciated Jake's efforts, grinning softly as the way you stirred in your sleep. It's near dawn, and Jungwon couldn't ignore the ache in his body. But even so, the way your eyes were puffy, your cheeks stained lightly with tears made his chest ache more than his body did.
As quietly as he could, Jungwon took you in his arms, and took you back to his apartment (he didn't have the keys to your apartment, and he didn't want to make you angrier by breaking in). Helicopters were still flying overhead, the sound of police sirens below filling the air. Jungwon's eyes twitched with tiredness, his straining muscles nearly giving out. The city was asleep, and yet it was still functionally cleaning up the mess from earlier.
Speaking of, that son of a bitch Baron von Fizzle-dick or whatever was now in police custody. Jungwon was too exhausted to remember the details, but it was a long and tiring fight. One that was painful.
As he swung through the sky, Jungwon couldn't forget the fight. He was hit pretty badly, almost nearly stabbed in the chest. His entire body was in pain, and if it weren't for the precious you in his arms, Jungwon thought he would collapse mid-air. The feeling of the insurmountable physical agony that that villain inflicted on him was definitely one for the books. Jungwon could still feel the blood dripping down his back. But what was even worse were the things Baron von Fizzlebang had said. The threats he made, the words he said: the villain, and apparently, all the villains in the city, via their underground network, seemed to know you by name. They knew you because you were a soft spot for Spider-Man. It terrified him that now you had a target on your back. He cursed himself for letting himself get comfortable, for endangering you in the process. Even if he won the fight now, Jungwon couldn't forget the fear.
As he landed on his window, Jungwon slowly cracked it open, supporting both you and himself as he brought the two of you into his apartment. He placed you down on his bed, pulling his comforter over you. He watched as you snuggled into his bed, a satisfied murmur falling from your lips. You looked so peaceful, and for a moment, Jungwon could forget all the pain he felt.
Jungwon looked down at his hands. Ripped gloves, blood-stained palms... will it ever go away?
He pulled away from you, about to make his way to his bathroom. He ought to wash the blood off his hands. The night was at its peak, the dreariest that it had ever been. He didn't know what time it wasâ he lost track of that a long time agoâ but all he knew was that it was dark outside. He better get some sleep too. But as he pulled away from you, he felt a few fingers weakly grip his arm. He froze.
"Jung... won..." you murmured. Your eyes were shut, and your voice sounded dreamy.
"I'm here," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't realized it, but his voice broke. Really, all he felt like doing was crying.
"Don't leave," you mumbled. Your fingers tightened around his arm. "I'll do.... do anything..." you drew on. "Just... don't go."
"Oh, babyâ" And with that Jungwon broke, the hot tears he hadn't even realized he were holding in spilling. He pulled on his mask. He dropped to his knees, resting his head on the bed beside you. "I... I never meant to. I never wanted to leave youâ"
You hummed, murmuring something incoherent. "Stay."
Jungwon let out a shaky breath. "I willâ I really want toâ Please, let meâ"
"Jungwon," you said, rather firmly. You still had your eyes shut.
"I'm here, baby." Jungwon sniffled, swiping the back of his ragged hand to wipe his nose. "I'm not gonna goâ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm soâ"
"In the... morning," you whispered. Before Jungwon could ask, you continued. "Talk in the morning."
Jungwon's voice broke again. "W-What?"
Your hand reached out for him again, this time falling onto his disheveled head. Jungwon nearly flinched at the feeling of your hand running through his hair, but instinctively he leaned into your touch. For a few moments, your fingers ran through his blonde locks, such a foreign feeling and yet a welcome one. Jungwon let his eyes shut, and they burned as his lids fell shut.
Your voice is quiet, and Jungwon is almost certain you're awake now. "Jake told me some things. I put two and two together."
"Really?" Jungwon, too tired to be mad. "Was it bad?"
You only hummed, giving him a classic nonresponse. Your fingers continued through his hair. "Go to sleep now."
"Butâ"
You hushed him, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "I love you."
Jungwon was stunned, but it felt so natural as, "I love you, too," tumbled from his lips.
There's a warmth that spreads across his chest, reassuring and comforting. But yet, so deeply harrowing, and so deeply frightening. He's a man of a thousand words and complex ideas, and you knew it, so you hushed Jungwon before he could continue, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "We'll talk in the morning."
Jungwon opened his mouth to protest. But as your fingers ran through his hair, he couldn't help the satisfying chills that ran down his spine. And everything hurt, and it hurt so bad that it was unbearable and Jungwon felt like he couldn't take it.
But your touch was so soft and familiar, Jungwon felt like.... for a second... he could maybe... fall into your touch... and just... take... it... easy...
"Pro...tect you..." Jungwon murmured. "I'll protect... you."
You chuckled softly. "You're not alone. I'll carry your burden with you."
It's his turn to hum, nearly satisfied. As he drifted off into a deep slumber, his troubles melting away into the palms of your hands, there's only one last thought in Jungwon's head.
Maybe there will be a new day tomorrow, and hopefully, he won't be alone when the day breaks.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
SKIN ON SKIN [SOS] ⊠S.JY ìŹìŹì€
ââ kiachiako ⚟ sim jaeyun
PAIRING: hockeyplayer!jake x f!reader (feat. brother!sunghoon)
GENRE: brothersbestfriend-to-lovers au, uni au, smut, fluff, coming-of-age, childhood friends au
SYNOPSIS: you grew up orbiting your brother's fast-paced world, school days filled with your hometown rink and boys who were the personification of the biting winter chill. somewhere along the way â between neighborhood sledding and blacking out at uni house parties â you watch jaeyun turn from your brother's quiet best friend to jake sim, your university's most coveted star hockey player. one that you happen to have a devastating crush on, a friend you've known since childhood. [in otherwords] a story about crossing a line you can't come back from with a boy that you can't have, and realizing that you can't stand beside him when it hurts more each time you do.
WARNINGS: marijuana consumption, smoking (shotgunning), cussing, violence/blood (hockey fight), mentions of alcohol consumption, making out, fingering (f/receiving)
WC: 12.3k
AUTHORâS NOTE: a fic not set in summer?? who am I omg 0.o i couldn't find an enha hockey fic that i liked, so i decided to write one for myself HAHA and now you guys can to read it too! this is super self indulgent, and thereâs a note at the end w a hockey clip lmfao [ manhwa in banner from @/so_wha.1 on ig ]
APPLE MUSIC PLAYLIST â
â
âJake.â
Your eyes glance up from the hot cocoa warming your hands to the sharp eyes of a boy already looking at you, maintaining his gaze even when his name is called. His piercing expression doesnât change, but as you peer up at him, you can feel a flicker of want before you look away with warming cheeks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the edges of his mouth lifting before he turns away.
âJake.â
Itâs odd to hear his name on itâs own like that, not when youâre used to hearing it roared by crowds through jampacked uni rinks; not when Sim Jaeyun is something bigger than himself already, a household name in premier league hockey and a constant on your universityâs community forum.Â
While heâs like a myth of sorts to the rest of the student body, heâs definitely very real as he sits in the living room of yours and Gawonâs shared apartment, quilt thrown over his legs that heâs claimed from years of movie nights and sleeping over.Â
Heâs got his hoodie pulled low, bleached hair falling over his eyes and cuffed sleeves pulled up to his elbows, crowded into the arm of the couch by your other friends talking animatedly next to him. He fiddles with the delicate silver chain around his wrist, a matching gift you got him and your brother in primary school. Because thatâs what he is to you.
Before ice hockey, before uni, before amateur fame, Jake was your hometown friend.Â
If you can call it that.
âJake, dude, come back to earth.â
Jake shifts, turning to his left at your brotherâs voice.Â
Realizing you spaced out staring at his wrist, you snap out of it with a jolt and catch Jungwonâs expression next to you, a grin on his face as he responds to your dazed look with a raise of his eyebrows.Â
Itâs mid January, the bite of vicious winter air unable to get to you in the warmth of the studio apartment you lease during the semester. In here, itâs all warm tones and paper garlands â ones you made together with Gawon during the holidays â candle warmers brightening the living room as your friends litter the space, their bright chatter and the clink of mugs filling cozy, sepia air. Soft indie-pop plays from the old radio your parents gifted you and your brother Sunghoon when you had moved away for university, his grace in letting you have it lost on you (he bought himself a new speaker with cash he âborrowedâ from your wallet during Christmas instead).Â
If you could keep this moment ingrained in your soul forever, youâd do it in a heartbeat; tangerine light spills out from your little kitchenette, Gawon and Sunooâs mischievous giggles ringing out as they crowd around the oven, the smell of burnt cinnamon cookies faint behind the chilli hot cocoa wafting up from next to you.
Jungwon has his head on your shoulder as he pulls a fleece blanket onto your lap, his plaid pajama-clad leg thrown lazily over yours. You can see Ni-ki and Jay in your peripheral vision thumbing through your DVD bin thoroughly as they hunch in front of your TV.Â
Your friendship has been steady throughout all first three years of uni, nights made up of late movie theater runs and overcooked ramen, attempted snowboarding down empty city streets at 3am and all nighters pulled at the sauna to escape the claws of studying.Â
If Jake and Sunghoon were at hockey practice, youâd all pile into Jayâs 2005 Hyundai and drive to the rink to watch them, making raunchy commentary that would have your brother slamming his stick against the plexiglass in playful warning. You all knew that they secretly liked it, Jungwonâs consistent âIâd let you slam me into the barricadeâ echoing out and drawing a flicker of a smile out from their coach before he would threaten to make you leave. He let you all back in every time.
It was the same during the weekends, when you and Ni-ki would be holed up in the practical arts and sculpture department of your university, hands covered in clay and silt and pottery glaze as you chiseled away at your individual term projects before the start of the week. Ni-kiâs r&b playlist drifting through the still, dusk-masked studio would be broken with the loud shouts from your friends as they filed in with snacks and bottled coffee from the vending machine, determined to give you a caffeinated sugar high to make it through the next few hours of work.
The eight of you have been consistent since the beginning, and the last thing you would ever want is to be the cause of your dependable friend group dynamic to change.
Your brother scrunches his nose at you from across the room, now squished into a loveseat definitely made for one with Jake.Â
âStop chewing in my ear, Won.â
At your soft voice, Jungwonâs eyes widen innocently before he stuffs another marshmallow in his mouth and leans in, noise amplifying.
âThatâs nasty,â you canât help but giggle at your friend, your eyes creasing as he sticks his tongue out immaturely.
Your gaze subconsciously trails to Jake again, his attention now on your brother as he throws an arm over the back of the couch to reach for the TV remote. The bottom of his hoodie rides up a bit, a sliver of his toned stomach visible before heâs flopping back into the couch again. You will yourself to look away while the back of your hand comes up to feel your cheek, startling when your skin is hot to the touch.
It was a night just like this that you realized you were hopelessly in love with Jake, more than just a friend should.
In retrospect, how could you not? He was out of every little girlâs dream future-husband-wish-list, perfect to a T in a way that you couldnât even describe with words.Â
His professors, his coach, his teammates would say that he didnât have a bad bone in his body, always approaching others with kindness and raw honesty that made him easily likeable, even with players on rival teams. His classmates would say that heâs personable and too outgoing, attracting people everywhere during group projects and library sessions but still getting the work done on time without fail. Your parents would say that heâs the son they never had â sheepishly covering Sunghoonâs ears, of course â polite, smart, and dependable, from helping your mom carry the groceries to washing garden vegetables in the kitchen with your dad when all of you were home for break.
But it was his flaws that made you like him even more. What made Jake so loveable to you were the sides that only a few people got to see, deep and thoughtful underneath the first layer that you had to get through first.
You were there when his childhood dog passed away, trying his best not to cry and stay strong for his mom even when you and Sunghoon were bawling your eyes out on the sidewalk. You were there when he got drunk for the first time, staring with horror as he got on all fours on the dirty asphalt in the alley behind your local bar because standing up felt too âwavy.â You remember shivering in the cold in a short skirt, hands on your knees from laughing so hard as Sunghoon frantically called an older friend to come pick you up, scared that youâd get busted for being underage.
When everyone else was too busy, Jake would be the one who sat for hours as your âmodelâ while you sketched, scolding him when he moved and exploding into fits of giggles when he would give up in the middle. He believed in your art more than you yourself did, and that meant everything to you â even now. He still sits on the plastic chair next to your work station in the sculpture studio until late at night, content with just humming to himself as you work quietly.
You were also there when Jake and Sunghoon got their official hockey gear for the first time in year five, their thrilled squeals ringing around your neighborhood as your parents set up a practice shooting pad in your front yard. Even though hockey wasnât as mainstream as baseball or basketball at the time, it still meant everything to them.
Itâs funny to see the same setup now when they come back home as big stars, bigger than your small town has ever seen. The same town with the same dingy rink that raised them to stardom, good enough until it was too small to hold them.Â
The three of you grew up in a one-major-intersection, snow-filled sidewalk kinda town, lamp posts covered in taped flyers about high school hockey tournaments in obnoxious red type that were miraculously still there after years.Â
Sunghoon and Jake were better friends than you and Jake were, but youâd still run from your job at your local province radio station to the ice rink at midnight with your school friends, just in time to catch the last of late night practices. Old 90âs tunes would crackle out of the janky speakers from the local radio, pre-queued by you so that the three of you could listen to your favorite songs if you timed it right.
Your friends and their teammates would go home after a bit, but youâd stay, fighting the cold to sit with your brother and Jake on the foam mats just off the ice. It was tradition, the hum of the zamboni behind you as you brought them warm, watered down coffee in styrofoam cups from the 24hr convenience store outside. Theyâd still be in their hockey uniforms, hair slick with sweat.Â
Back then, no matter how annoying or gross you thought they were, you still looked up to them with all of the admiration you had in your young body.
You can still feel it now if you wanted to, the shared winters that fill your well-loved memories of growing up in a scuffed-up rink. Fresh ice, rough leather, and the smell of sweat that clung to your clothes long after leaving, even if you werenât the one skating. In your hometown, ice hockey wasnât just a sport. It was the thing that raised Park Sunghoon and Sim Jake, larger-than-life players whose jerseys were mass produced and worn by thousands across the country now.Â
When Sunghoon was drafted into the Winter Olympicsâ reserve team in high school â the youngest to ever be â you had watched from your small living room TV with your parents and Jake, all wide eyed and hands held in anticipation.
You can still remember the feeling of Jakeâs thigh against yours on the carpet, his warm palms enveloping yours as he prayed. He was sniffling and recovering from a cold, but he still prayed with all his might that his best friend would make it big for the both of them.
He didnât have to. A month later, Jake was chosen as the last reserve team member, and both were scouted for the top universityâs first division ice hockey team. A year later, and your whole neighborhood was in your living room celebrating your own acceptance into the same school; this time, enrolled as a studio arts student.
Youâre all older now, life is getting a little too real, and you realize that falling for him had to be inevitable.Â
You knew Jake when he was just Jaeyun, not Yonseiâs resident golden boy with a disarming smile and his signature cobalt blue jersey, #15 stitched across its back. But youâve never wanted him like the people shouting his name through crowded university rinks want him.
You want him like you did when you were neighbors and eight, building life-size igloos with rainbow-dyed ice blocks and jumping for hours on his frozen trampoline. Just matching mittens knit by his grandmother, building snowmen and chasing winter hares, and a whole lot of feelings to go around. Just the two of you and infinite time.Â
Nostalgia will be the death of you.
As you sit in your living room now, with Jungwonâs head on your shoulder and Sunghoonâs side pressed against Jakeâs, you come to the bitter realization that you might not ever get Jake the way youâve always subconsciously yearned for. You donât want to offset your own relationship with your brother â and especially with the rest of your friends â because once you cross that line, there's absolutely no coming back. You donât ever want to have your friends choose a side, and what you have right now is too perfect to taint.
Youâve convinced yourself that you can live with being just friends, just like you always have.
But man, is it getting hard.
No one talks about how disorienting and weird it feels to come to the slow realization that you like someone who you're definitely not supposed to like, especially when youâve spent your entire life as good friends. Itâs disarming and you canât help but feel icky when you look at him. Youâre not supposed to want him like this, where your head pounds and you feel too warm everywhere.
Sometimes, though, you feel like his gaze lingers on you a little longer than the others too. In those moments you let yourself daydream a little, thinking about an alternate reality where he loves you just as loudly as you do in your head. Those moments get shattered though, especially when you remember where you are and who youâre withâ
ââand why arenât you getting lit right now, Jakey-bear,â Jayâs voice carries over the sound of a kitschy, low-budget horror film rolling on your TV, the glow from the screen flickering across his face as he messes with the buttons on the side.Â
Jakeâs eyes lazily rake across the room before they land on his friend. Snorting, he offers a small smile before holding up his cocoa-filled mug.
âI donât drink the night before games. Weâve gone over this.â
Jay shakes his head, standing up before collapsing on the carpet next to Jakeâs feet.
âIf only the world knew how fucking lame you are,â he mutters, throwing an arm over his face. âMaybe Iâd be a hockey star too.â
Sunghoon turns to look at his friend on the floor.
âWhat?â
âYou know, âcause I have a brilliant sense of humor and a fabulous personality. God knew not to make me athletic. Iâd be unstoppable,â he says, patting Jake on the ankle. âGood thing youâre cute though. Makes up for the fact that youâre aâŠâ Jay pauses to hold an âLâ up to his forehead before taunting, âloser.â
âFuck off,â Jake says with a grin, pushing Jayâs shoulder with his foot for good measure.
You tune out of their bickering as Gawon settles down next to you, poking your cheek with a pout before offering up a plate of cookies.Â
âSorry I left you for so long with these monsters,â she grimaces, glancing around at the living room in mock disgust at the scattered plates and empty beer cans. Jungwon peers at her from around you, frowning. âNot you though, Won. Youâre my favorite.â
âI know,â he says smugly through a mouth full of cookie, hands already reaching for more. You look at your best friends in adoration, their smiles making you feel all warm and gooey inside.
Itâs only when you turn your attention back to the TV that you catch bits of the conversation happening across the room, your brotherâs loud voice dominating the movie playing.
âYou better play your damn hardest tomorrow,â he emphasizes to Jake, nudging his shoulder. âThereâs this hot hot girl from my stats class thatâs been bugging me about you, you lucky bastard. And because Iâm your best friend, I made her promise that sheâd come over after the game for you if we win.â
Your heart falls out of your chest as you quietly look up at the two of them, catching onto the way Jake rolls his neck before slowly coming to look back at Sunghoon.
âAnd?â He says, albeit quietly.
âAnd? What do you mean âand?ââ Sunghoon smirks, putting his hand on Jake's arm. âDonât you want some good victory head? I heard sheâs really good, knows how to go downââ
âUgh, you freaks are disgusting," Sunoo laments from the kitchen, holding out a whisk to shake at the two of them. âHave some decorum, please.â
Youâre used to your friends talking so casually about their sex lives, but the fact that itâs Jake is a whole different thing. Youâve heard stories, yeah, but nothing prepared you for how much it would hurt to hear after coming to terms with your own feelings.
You watch his reaction closely, his silence making you chew on your lip. Itâs almost like heâs contemplating it. You canât help the unwanted feeling of jealousy that bubbles up in you, your throat closing up as you look at your lap.
âAnyway,â your brother continues, âyou definitely need it. Youâve been so tense recently.âÂ
You refuse to look at them, instead distracting yourself by pulling at a strand of Jungwonâs sweater next to you. You can feel Gawonâs eyes on you.Â
She and Jungwon are the only ones who know about your feelings for Jake, their sharp senses catching on quick when theyâd catch you staring at him more than you ever had. You had threatened them to promise never to tell after a particularly bad night, making them swear on their bloodline that Jake would never find out. Â
âShould I send her our address?â Sunghoon prods.
Itâs silent for a few moments, before Jake's next words make your heart sink further.Â
â...yeah, I guess.â
Oh.
You feel a hand slide over your leg, Gawonâs rings cold against your skin as you look up at her.
She furrows your eyebrows, as if silently asking you if she should say something. Your eyes widen, shaking your head with a miniscule no. Donât.
She tilts her head, as if questioning why?Â
Jungwon looks between the two of you with furrowed eyebrows.
Sheâs about to open her mouth when Sunghoonâs voice rings out again. You snap your head back in the rest of your friendsâ direction, brushing Gawonâs concerned hand off your leg.
âAre you swinging by tomorrowâs game, Rockstar?â He calls you by the nickname heâs had for you since childhood, throwing a piece of popcorn up before catching it in his mouth. âItâs gonna be against KU. Itâll be a big one.â
You feel your eyes betray you as they flit to Jake quickly, finding him already looking at you.Â
âUhh,â you start, looking at Jungwon nodding beside you for confirmation, âyeah. Yeah, Iâll be there.â
You start to get up to escape this feeling thatâs creeping up your throat, but youâre stopped in your tracks by Gawon who gives you a look from beside you. You know that look.Â
Raising her voice suspiciously loud, she glances at Jake before grabbing your arm.Â
âRight, and who was that guy that you said was cute last time, Y/N? The top center for KU, right? He dmâed one of my friends asking for your number, you know,â she starts, your eyes widening as you realize what sheâs doing. Sheâs digging for a reaction from Jake.
You see Jakeâs head tilt slightly, not fully acknowledging your conversation but still showing that heâs listening. Sunghoon, on the other hand, snaps his head around to give you a pointed glare.Â
âThe fuck? Who?â
âNo one.â You reply quickly, glaring back.
âBullshit. Tell me, Y/N.â
âNo one,â you say at the same time Jungwon says âHeeseung,â his figure immediately shrinking when you shoot him a look that you usually reserve for your brother.
âYouâre kidding,â your brother starts, pulling out his phone before searching for something â someone â rapidly. âIâm gonna get his ass. Heâs trying to get to us through my sister? Who the fuck does he think he is?â
With a sigh, you sit back down and close your eyes. You can already feel a migraine forming.
Yeah, you had thought Heeseung was cute the last time your universities had played each other, but that was only to desperately distract yourself from thinking about Jake. You knew you shouldnât have said anything to your friends.
âDonât talk to him, Y/N, Iâm putting my foot down as your brother. You are forbidden from talking to him,â Sunghoon continues, exasperated.
Ni-ki snorts from the corner of the room, speaking up from underneath a swath of blankets.
âWhat are we in, the fucking middle ages?â He grins before pointing at you. âWatch out Y/N, your brotherâs gonna ride out on a horse tomorrow and demand a duel with KUâs center.â Gawon laughs out loud before Sunghoon throws a piece of popcorn at her.Â
Tuning out Ni-ki and Sunghoonâs rising voices, you canât help but notice the way Jake has seemingly clocked out of the conversation. He stares at the side of your face and then the ground when you give him a questioning glance. He doesnât look back up after that, playing with his bracelet instead. The moment passes, and everything returning back to normal as your friends settle in around you. They pass drinks and food around, but you canât help but overthink the entire conversation.
Itâs still bothering you when you flop onto your bed an hour later, tired from talking. Everyone is still in the living room outside, but you need quiet space to think.Â
Youâre laying off the edge of the bed with your knees up, hair lifting from the cool wind seeping through a crack in your window, when your door creaks open. Blue light spills in from the hallway before a figure slips into your room, stopping before you.
You turn onto your stomach, your sleep shorts riding up, and shoot Jake a small smile as he settles at the foot of your bed. He doesnât say anything; he simply reaches for the bulky hockey bag heâs had since secondary school, left in your room from coming straight from practice earlier.Â
Itâs a comfortable, full silence as you watch him from your position. He glances up every once in a while, careful hands wrapping the end of his hockey stick with new grip tape. He doesnât speak for a long while, face pale from the moonlight and lip caught between his teeth like he always does when heâs focused. Long fingers loop around each other carefully as he lines the stick, finally putting it down after a few long minutes. Youâve watched him do this a million times, but it feels more intimate when he does it in your space.
You blink at him when he looks back up at you through his messy bangs, gaze full of something you canât quite decipher yet.
His hands shake slightly from the chill in your room, so you silently offer him the fleece blanket from your bed. Instead, he gently pushes your hand away, climbing onto your bed before laying his head down next to you.Â
Tucking his chin on top of your childhood plushie, he tilts his head to look at you. Faint chatter from outside seeps under the crack of your bedroom door, the soft crackling of a burning candle filling the silence. His eyes seem to sweep across the expanse of your room before landing back on you.
âNervous?â You finally whisper, with no need to talk at normal volume when heâs this close. Your heart is racing out of your chest but you regulate your breathing the best you can.Â
It's just Jake. Youâve had millions of talks like this before.
âYeah,â he admits, shifting so that his hair isnât in his eyes. The collar of his hoodie is loose in the position, his collarbones and a thin silver chain peeking out.
âLast game before recruiting season,â you continue, glancing down at the bandaid across his knuckles.
âOh,â he sighs out. âYeah, I guess.â He follows your gaze before tucking his hand under the plush.
âYouâre gonna try to go pro for real?â
Jake pauses before grimacing, his dimple slightly showing itself before disappearing again.
âYeah, if I can,â he says, your chest stuttering when he lets that smile that he reserves only for you take over his face. âSigning my soul away to the devil or whatever.â
You giggle, nudging his arm lightly.
âAnd you promise youâll remember me when you end up playing in the national league, right?â
âYou know I couldnât forget you if I tried,â he reassures back, his voice heavy as if he means every word. He points at you, letting the tip of his index finger touch your shoulder. âAnd you canât forget me when youâre some hotshot artist who sells paintings for more than my yearly rent.â
âMm,â you tease, rolling onto your back, âmaybe youâll just have to buy one to see.â
âConsider me sold,â he murmurs back, tenderly staring at the side of your face.
You let your arms fall off the bed, stretching languidly before tucking your hair behind your ear. You wordlessly blink at him as he reaches out with a slight tremor in his hand, fixing a strand thatâs blown into your eyes. His hand lingers for a second before he pulls away again, eyes fixed on yours with an unreadable expression.
It hurts to look at a face youâre so familiar with, one thatâs been steadily by your side since you can remember.Â
âIâll always root for you, Jake,â you say softly, honestly bleeding into your words.
Thereâs much to be left unsaid, but some part of you feels like he understands with the way he just peers at you, dark eyes never leaving your face.
âI know,â he whispers back, gaze leaving yours to travel to the doorknob, where his old skate laces are tied around the brass handle. They then flick over to your windowsill, where dark, scuffed pucks are stacked up the wood. Just below it is his worn hockey bag, stick poking out to lean against your tall stack of old CDs. Thereâs remnants of him everywhere, and not just physically either. Heâs part of your core memories, from all eras of your life, and there will always be bits and pieces of him in the way you speak and behave too. âIâll see you in the crowd tomorrow, yeah?â
âAlways.â
You couldnât get rid of Jake if you tried.
â
Everyone in this part of the city knows three things for sure: winter never really ends at Mokdong collegiate rink, Friday nights are for Yonsei ice hockey, and cobalt blue is law.Â
Youâre wearing Jakeâs worn out leather bomber with #15 stitched proudly across its back, your brotherâs original faded jersey snug underneath. It smells like the both of them, woody and sweet as you lean back with your shoes up on the seat in front of you. Gawon leans over you to clip your hair with barrettes of the team color, sitting back with a satisfied hum after brushing your hair back. Jungwon bounces his leg up and down nervously from next to you, keeping an eye on the clock as he waits restlessly for the game to start.
The three if you are in your universityâs home rink, chalk full as people still trickle in from all sides, pouring down the stands and settling in just before the teams skate out. Itâs a blue ocean, university students and parents alike filling the seats. Bleeding dots of red can be seen infiltrating the side across from you, donning opposing team jerseys and KU colors.Â
Youâve been here plenty of times, but the air feels different today. Itâs electric and alive, an audible hum filling the space as remnants of chants echo around the rink.Â
You canât help but be nervous for your brother whoâs most likely the first in line waiting to come out of the player tunnel as team captain. You know firsthand how hard he worked to get to where he is today, and tonight, there will be international scouts in the audience looking for the next big names in ice hockey. Your brother is already a local hero in skates, but going pro would seal his professional career for him.Â
And of course, you canât help but think of Jake, whoâs probably second in line right behind Sunghoon as the center. You can sense his nerves already, the way he fiddles with his gear when heâs anxious and looks up to the heavens to remind himself of the things that keep him grounded. From years of following him and your brother around to their practices, you can bet with confidence that Jake has one hand on Sunghoonâs shoulder and the other on the cross around his neck right now. Theyâre the faces of the team, and that means the worries they carry can't show.Â
As much as hockey is pure athleticism and skill, itâs also a game of ego.Â
Playing a home game means the universityâs pride is on the line, and the winner be damned if it isnât them. You, Jungwon, and Gawon arenât the only ones waiting in anticipation; much of the student body is also here, as well as half of the hearts of the city through live broadcasting.Â
You can pretend youâre not just another fan, hands wrapped around an overpriced paper cup of hot coffee, but the second #15 hits the ice, your pulse will match the drum of the crowdâs.Â
Gawon clenches your hand in anticipation as the lights of the arena start flashing, beams of blue and red circling the ice. The crowd erupts in animated cheers, Jungwon sliding to the edge of his seat so he can be closer to the plexiglass. The analog scoreboard resets with a click, displaying a blinking â00â for both teams, and the large screens hanging from the ceiling of the rink switch to show the entrance of the player tunnel.Â
And then â in all their glory â there they are.Â
The notorious Yonsei menâs hockey team pours out of the tunnel with their easy grins and bright blue gear, skating a lap around the large rink before lining up across its expanse. You canât help but let your mouth fall into a wordless âwow,â the view awing you no matter how many times you see it.Â
Your eyes naturally find Jake by habit, your breath catching as you spot him gliding to his spot just meters away from where youâre sitting.Â
He looks like a true celebrity from here, slipping his helmet off and ruffling the resulting wavy hair with a gloved hand. His skates skim the ice with quiet precision, cutting effortless lines across its surface. The cold makes his breath come out in pale clouds, but his face is composed with a kind of stillness that only comes from someone deeply comfortable in their body and their sport. His jersey hangs off his body prettily, stretching across broad shoulders that shift with every movement as he handles his hockey stick with years of experience, hand wound around the handle tightly.
Coming to a sharp hockey stop just short of the barrier, he sprays snow towards the reactive crowd before reaching down to wipe the excess off his blades. The metal and the white of his teeth glint under the fluorescent lights as he shoots the stands a charming smile, screams ringing out in immediate response.Â
It makes you feel faint in the head.Â
Shaking out his hair again, his eyes shine with determination as they rake over the seats. Pink dusts his nose and cheeks, stiff eyelashes a result of the arenaâs chill. He finds your familiar face in the crowd easily and gives a small nod in acknowledgment, your friends waving back excitedly before you turn to Jungwon.Â
âIâm so fucked,â you whisper, forehead falling against his shoulder as he shakes with laughter.Â
You turn back to the ice as the opposing team skates out, Gawon hitting your leg repeatedly when she spots Heeseung in all his glory, his blinding smile easily recognizable through the grates of his helmet.
You donât catch the way Jake looks down and tenses when Heeseung glances in your direction, throwing a smug look your way from across the arena, but Gawon sure does. She observes Jake quizzically, trying to figure him out from the stands like staring hard enough will make everything clear.
The striped refs throw up symbols with their hands as the lights dim, the sharp crack of sticks startling you as both teams hit the ice once in unison. Coaches and managers in suits stand off to the side of the penalty box, guiding most of the team as they skate over to the playersâ bench.
The air tastes metallic as you snuggle into Jakeâs jacket further, eyes following his figure as he moves towards the middle of the ice with Sunghoon flanking him. Their postures are relaxed but you can see how tightly they grip their hockey sticks, moving into the starting face-off position. The arena quiets down as the timer gets ready to drop, Heeseung and Jake turning to face each other as both of their teamsâ respective centers.Â
The referee crouches low between the circles, puck balanced on his fingertips and breath fogging the air as steadily as the arena lights flicker overhead. His skates are planted wide, knees bent, eyes flicking back and forth between the two. Measuring. Waiting.
Jake positions himself tensely, blade angled, stick laid flat to the ice, and knuckles wrapped tight in black tape under his gloves. The position of his shoulders gives him away, coiled and predatory as Sunghoon backs him up from outside the circle. His visor catches the glare of the lights, briefly obscuring his eyes, but when he tips his chin down you could see them; sharp and unblinking, locked directly onto Heeseung across from him.
Itâs a waiting game. For a beat, the rink feels impossibly quiet, like live wire. The crowd stills.
Jake doesnât move, just lets a slow breath drift past his mouthguard, eyes never leaving his opponentâs face.
The refereeâs hand hovers.
Then, in a flash, the puck drops between them, and the stillness is shattered into motion.
Heeseung is quick but Jakeâs quicker, dashing out to shoot the puck to his teammate who appears in his peripheral. They pass it back and forth with practiced ease, moving down the rink towards the visiting teamâs goal and attacking zone, slapshots echoing across the arena as it bounces off of the dasher boards.
The first point passes in a flash as the puck gets shot around the rink, Yonsei taking the lead within the first fifteen minutes.
Tension rises as KU scores a match point in the second period, the score tied neatly. An hour passes and neither team scores a second point in the third period, which means the game is launched into sudden-death overtime. The coach whistles, signaling a line change, and the crowd watches with tight suspense as Jake skates back onto the ice with a shout from the team manager. His finger subconsciously rubs over the tape on his stick that he redid in your room the day before.Â
You can hear Jungwon get serious from beside you, leaning back with a steep inhale.
âHe better not mess this up,â he mutters under his breath. You turn to him, tilting your head. âALIH scouts,â he explains, pointing across the rink to a group of people you had missed, their clipboards and sharp suits a stark contrast to those around them. âTheyâre watching.â
With a bated breath, the puck drops for the last time, and Jake chases it like itâs the last thing heâll ever do. Blue jerseys swarm into the opposing defense zone as he skids behind the goal and straight towards it.Â
What he doesnât account for, however, is a figure who comes in hot from the opposite side. Heeseung barrels towards the edge of the rink, colliding straight into Jake as they both slam against the barrier in front of you. The whole thing rattles, a whistle slicing through the rink as he tries to shove the opposing center away to go after the puck.
The snow of ice spray is still glittering in the lights when the crowd erupts. The row of people in front of you bang on the plexiglass, egging on a potential fight like they always do in hockey culture. Itâs something youâve never gotten used to, but never have you seen Jake at the center of it. Heâs always prided himself in keeping his anger in check, so when he turns around to bodycheck Heeseung, your friends look at each other in shock. You see your brother ready to interfere on the ice, pushing his visor up.
You donât even have time to register whatâs happening before you see a glove come off, hard fist against hard chest as their skates dig into the ice with fervor. You donât see whose it is, just that Jakeâs got a mean snarl on his face that he rarely shows.
The puck skids uselessly away as the game comes to a pause, teammates hovering nearby as the refs standby, not a single person interfering just yet. Itâs rooted in the sportâs culture to let fights play out, which renders you speechless as you watch Jake get aggressively pushed down onto the ice. You let out a worried sound as you jump up, straining to see whatâs happening.
âWhat the hell is your problem?â Heeseung grits out, teeth bared through a mouthguard. Jake doesnât answer, jumping right back up to shove him back into the plexiglass in uncontrolled anger. The impact makes the sound rattle up into the rafters, jolting the crowd as they leer in excitement. The people around you lean forward as one, the noise swelling into something feral and hungry.
âHoly shit,â Jungwon exclaims, grabbing your arm. âGet him, Jake!â
âJungwon whatââ you exclaim back, looking around wildly in worry. âOh my God, guys, heâs bleeding.â
A punch lands fast, from Heeseung this time. Itâs violent and cracks against hard plastic as Jakeâs head is snapped sideways, silent fury locked behind his eyes.
âLook at me,â he hisses, grabbing Jakeâs jersey and yanking him close. âYou donât do that to me. Ever.â
The refs rush in then, bodies wedging between them and arms locked around waists to pull them apart. Jake brushes them off, skating off himself with undeniable rage in his clenched jaw and stormy eyes. You can see the red already blooming from behind the grating of his helmet, lip most likely nicked in the short brawl.
From the stands, all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you sit back down in your seat with wide eyes. The crowd is still jittery from the fight, the air buzzing with chatter.
The two of them are dragged to opposite penalty boxes, separated by a strip of frozen blue. Even just sitting there, breaths ragged and cheeksâ split, they stare each other down.
The crowd roars as the game plays on, but your eyes are locked on Jake and his defeated figure. Heâs slumped on the bench unmoving, eyes closed and head against the plastic board behind him. He breathes slowly now, chest rising in controlled increments as the match comes to an end with a draw.
Itâs over.
They tied.
Somewhere in the noise, he looks up and finds your eyes in the mass of people. He holds your gaze for a moment before furrowing his eyebrows and dropping his head down.
It feels like you donât move for a long time until Gawon jostles you, a hand on your shoulder as Jungwon stands up with a stretch.Â
âI canât believe he actually did that,â he chatters excitedly, hands waving around. âIâve literally never seen Jake fight like that before. That was so hot, right Y/N-ie,â he adds with a smug grin pointed at you. Youâre still at a loss for words, unable to tear your eyes away from Jakeâs form.Â
Gawon shushes Jungwon before shooting you a concerned look.
âWeâre gonna go meet Sunghoon out back, maybe head to the bar. Are you gonna⊠do you wanna stay and wait for Jake?â
You feel your head nod, not even hearing yourself as you tell them to go ahead without you. All you can see is him, and the way that he doesnât even seem to know that heâs bleeding as he sits on the bench alone. Sunghoon whispers something to him before heading to the locker room himself.
You sit with your knees up in your seat as the arena clears out, the few people lingering behind the ice paying him no mind. The lights have faded, the scoreboard shut off for the night. Itâs a complete 180 from just twenty minutes ago when the game was at its height. You feel like youâre watching Jake quietly lose his mind, his eyes blank as he touches his lip with his fingers. They pull away bloody, but he doesnât even flinch.
The only people left are some helpers shoveling away the excess snow off the ice, so you decide to get up and make your way towards Jake. The familiar chill of the rink seeps into your bones as you wrap his jacket around you tighter, coming to a stop next to the penalty box heâs trapped himself in.
Knocking on the glass once, you lean down to catch his attention.
â...Jake?â You call, offering what you hope is a comforting smile, even when your heart breaks at the sight of his bruised mouth and torn knuckles. âIâll drive you home. Câmon.â
He finally lifts his head at your voice to look at you, eyes softening as they catch you in his jersey number.Â
He nods slowly, letting you pull him out of his confinement and back onto solid ground, the added height from the blades of his skates making him tower over you as you lead him out of the rink.
â
You can never tell what heâs thinking, Jakeâs normally clear eyes thick with something heavy that you canât quite place.Â
Neither of you have said a word since getting to his and Sunghoonâs shared apartment, the latter most likely getting black out drunk at this very moment. The silence is new to you, especially when youâre used to your brother filling it with his outloud-thoughts at every waking moment. You appreciate the fact that heâs not here to ruin this moment though, especially when youâre currently closer to Jake than youâve ever been.
Youâre standing snug between his legs as he sits sprawled on the living room couch, bending down so that you can gently apply ointment on his lips without it getting everywhere. One hand cradles his jaw while the other brushes the medicine on, his sharp intakes of air letting you know that it stings more than he lets on. Heâs close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, his eyelashes fluttering close with a grimace when you brush on another layer. His hands settle naturally on your hips â more so to keep him grounded than anything â his grip tight as you wipe away dried blood from his skin.
You chew mindlessly on your bottom lip in concentration, not even noticing until Jake reaches up to pull it from your teeth. His voice is hoarse as he speaks for the first time tonight.Â
âStop that,â he breaks the silence to scold you lightly, hand dropping back down when you still. âThe skin will tear.â
âAnd look whoâs talking,â you frown back, brushing a finger over the blooming bruise at the corner of his mouth. Even as pain flickers across his face, his gaze never drifts. He studies you from below, lids lowered, the heaviness in his eyes betraying how exhausted he really is.
His lips fall into a natural pout as you busy your hands, searching aimlessly for bandages on the coffee table behind you just to keep yourself from saying something you donât mean. Heâs so beautiful looking up at you like this, but thinking about his injuries and what caused them confuses you.
Your hands subconsciously tremble as you rip open the pack of bandages, Jakeâs eyes on you as he leans back on the couch, legs spread wide.Â
Hesitating, you ask the question thatâs been running laps in your mind all evening.Â
âWhy did you do that? Iâve never seen you like that on the ice before,â you end up rambling, not accusing, just curious.
Jake stills.Â
â...are you mad at me?âÂ
âWhy would I be mad at you?â you muse, careful fingers gently lifting his right hand into yours. His fingers curl into your palm naturally, letting you brush over his knuckles before you begin to wrap gauze over them. His features soften as he observes the way you hold up his hand to inspect it for any missed injuries.
âI donât know,â he admits, brows knit together in a shallow furrow.
You pause, dropping his hand before sighing.
âI was just worried, Jake.â
He lets a few moments pass before looking back up at you.
âWhy were you worried?â He seems to hesitate before he whispers, as if fishing for a specific answer.
You say nothing, not sure if you can admit to him just yet why you care so much. You canât even admit it fully to yourself. Biting your lip from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment, you toss the extra gauze behind you before sliding down onto the couch next to him.
He scans you for a moment. Realizing youâre not going to answer him, he reaches for a small metal tin on the table with shaky hands. He doesnât prod further.
You can tell â through all these years of knowing him â when he begins to sink into one of his moods, the ones that make him turn to his vices to cope. Itâs the way his eyes gloss over, unfocused as his mind drifts elsewhere. You saw it plenty when you were both eighteen and stupid, deep in the alley behind your local karaoke bar sharing a cig when the pressure of parents, school, and expectations got too much.
âYou know, youâve always been too good to me,â he mutters, voice low as he rolls a King Palm onto his open hand. Out of pure muscle memory, he sifts sativa in a line along his palm before packing it into a blunt. â...want a hit?â he whispers, almost like heâs ashamed of asking you to indulge in something thatâs supposed to be his bad habit.
Youâd usually chastise him lightly for smoking as an athlete, but you can tell he needs it tonight, the dimness in his eyes concerning you.Â
You hesitate before nodding slightly, eyes in a trance as they follow his nimble fingers. You can physically feel your resolve crumble when he brings the cone to his lips, tongue darting out to slowly wet the edge of the rolling paper.
It takes everything in you to look away, hands furling and unfurling in your lap.
âIâm good to you because you deserve it, Jake. And donât get used to this,â you admit, tucking your legs underneath you. You pause with a blink before admitting, âIâm only saying yes because itâs you.â
He swallows hard at your words, tension leaving his shoulders as he watches you. Itâs as if he can see right through you, see your walls slowly crumble.
Holding a lighter up to his face, he lights the blunt with a sharp click before taking a deep drag, letting the warmth take over his body before blowing the smoke away from you. Color rises back into his cheeks as he holds it out for you to take.Â
Itâs been a while.
He must see the hesitation in your face because he pulls away suddenly, tilting his head like a puppy. His usual easy confidence seems to flicker.Â
âWould it be better if⊠is it easier for you if I shotgun it?â He barely gets the words out without a stutter, eyes averting as your face burns at his suggestion. âTo get a smoother high, maybeâŠâ he tacks on with a mumble, like it changes anything he just said.
You stare back at him with wide eyes, mouth parting before slowly nodding.
âMaybe,â you peek at him before repeating yourself in a whisper. âIâd- Iâd like that.â
His throat bobs like heâs holding himself back before scooting himself closer and bringing his hand up slowly to your face. You can sense his hesitancy, the way thereâs a slight tremor in the movement.Â
Your lungs stop working as his skin touches yours, fingers warm as they cup the side of your face gently.Â
Both of you seem to pause, faces so close that you can see the way the space between his eyebrows creases, full lips just centimeters away from yours. The air feels warm and charged, your skin buzzing as he shifts to pull you in closer by the thigh. Strands of his wavy hair brush your forehead.
He braces an arm against the couch cushion before taking a long drag, eyelashes fluttering as he pauses before you. His eyes look different, like heâs fighting both something inwardly and the pull of the moment. They lower, betraying, and flicker to your mouth, lips pressed flat.
âAre you okay?â He asks so quietly that you almost donât catch it, careful not to let any smoke out.
It only takes one nod from you before he leans forward in the slightest, coaxing your mouth open with his thumb before breathing out, letting it permeate your mouth.
âBreathe,â he talks you through it, letting his palm rest against your chest as it rises to feel the large inhale you take. âLet it go all the way.â
The smoke burns as it goes down, resulting in you coughing lightly as Jake moves to rub smooth circles into your back. His other hand falls from your jaw to your knee, bracing himself before taking another hit and letting the smoke curl its way up the ceiling. The smell clouds your senses, making your vision hazy as you let yourself relax into his side naturally.
His arm tightens around your back, a small smile making its way up his face â as if he can feel your eyes on him â as he continues to take long, sharp inhales. The tips of his finger drum against your waist for a moment before they tighten to pull you closer into him.Â
âAgain?â
âMm,â you mumble in a daze, looking up with sparkling, wide eyes that take every last bit of his resolve. âFeels good.â
You donât really know how you ended up in this position, with your body half in his arms, but you donât complain. He doesnât either.
Resting your head against his shoulder, he tilts your head back up to meet him halfway. He brushes your hair out of your face and behind your ear slowly, looking intently between your eyes before leaning down and blowing another bout of smoke into your mouth.
This time, your lips touch just a hair, his breath hot on yours. You jolt slightly.
Neither of you move away, scared to cross a line thatâs been drawn since the first time you met him.Â
He lets you inhale the smoke fully before starting to pull away.
Your hand comes up ever so slowly, shaking slightly, until your fingers make contact with his face. The space between his brows pinches when your thumb presses near the bruise on his mouth, then slowly smooths when he meets your eyes again.
Jake finds himself naturally leaning into your touch, a glimpse of his dimple appearing as his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth.
And when you see that, you decide you canât take it any more.Â
Youâve waited long enough.
Youâre done being scared of consequences.
Threading a hand through his hair, you pull him down gently until his lips fully touch yours.
And then youâre kissing Sim Jaeyun. Your brotherâs best friend. One of your best friends. And you donât care, because this is the moment youâve wanted more than anything, ever.Â
And then heâs kissing you back.Â
Jake doesnât pull away like the fear in the back of your head thought he might.
It starts off sweet and short, chaste until he deepens the kiss slightly. After a few seconds, his eyes glaze over as he sits back to admire the way your lips glisten.Â
A charged moment passes before his gaze turns dark, leaning in and invading your space once again. He captures your mouth even more intensely as he reaches out to cradle the back of your head, blunt forgotten to the side on an ash tray. His lips mold around yours, the pace escalating quickly like heâs been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. You can taste it on him, the bitter dregs of the sativa mixing into your saliva.Â
His tongue darts out to drag against yours, taking advantage of your little gasps to deepen the kiss. Letting you melt into him, he nips and tugs at your lip gently with his teeth before licking it better. Itâs hot and bothered and strained, and youâre not sure if youâll ever be able to let go after getting him like this. He unabashedly moans straight into your mouth, the sound shooting straight to your core as you whine against him.
âJakeââ you gasp into his mouth, hand on his chest to slow him down.Â
He brushes your hand away, pulling you onto his lap so you can sit with your thighs around his waist â all without disconnecting his mouth from yours. Tilting his head, he lets your hands roam across the expanse of his chest before threading themselves back in his hair with a tug.
âShitâ Y/N,â he barely gets out, lips on yours again. âKeep doing that, baby.â
You can barely keep up with his pace, overcome with white hot pleasure that renders you momentarily incapable of thinking about anything else. You let out another gasp at hearing the way he calls you âbaby,â the name so unfamiliar to you that you almost feel tears sting the back of your eyes. It feels so right hearing them fall from his mouth.
Dropping your head into his neck, you lick a stripe up to his jaw and press wet kisses over his bruises. His hips immediately jerk in reaction, hands squeezing your waist as his head falls back over the edge of the couch. Youâre in the middle of sucking a hickey into the skin next to the bulge of Adam's apple when he starts rambling, hand sneaking up under your tank to press against your stomach.
âSweet, sweet girl,â he starts, taking a breath and moaning out loud when he sees the string of saliva that connects where your mouths part. âIâve wanted this for so long, you donât even know.â
âJakey,â you mumble into his skin, voice breaking when his hand wanders up to cup you through your bra. Jakeâs at war with himself, but he canât fight desire, especially not when he can feel you shiver against him like youâve never trusted someone more.
âFuck, say that again fâme,â he curses before dragging your shirt up your stomach with his teeth, dipping just below to press kisses just below your chest with fervor. His nose presses against your skin as he inhales, mumbling about how he feels like he could stay in this position forever.
âJakey please,â you whine, needy hands reaching out so that Jake can pull you to him again. âNeed you. Bad.âÂ
He complies happily, groaning at the way you fit perfectly in his hands.
At some point, the pleasure gets too much and you find yourself rocking into him, head tucked into his neck as he sings praises into your ear.
âShit baby, câmere,â his hands canât seem to keep still, dragging down your back to your thighs and back up to your face. âTake what you need from me.â
Your face burns as you lay the side of your face against his chest, his hand guiding your hips right against the bulge growing in his sweats. The other holds your head to him, making sure youâre comfortable before matching the pace of your rocking.Â
âIâm all yours,â he whispers down at you, smiling when you cry out his name in response.
Your stomach seizes when you feel his hand start to creep under the waistband of your sweats, playing with the string before dipping under the elastic of your panties. Youâre pressed flat against him, and feeling his arm creep against your stomach makes you feel things no man has made you feel before.
âIs this⊠is this okay?â He hesitates, pausing as he watches you carefully.
You nod against his chest rapidly, shutting your eyes when his pointer and middle finger finally push against your heat. Youâre embarrassingly wet, the sound clearly audible as he begins to move.
âOh baby,â he coos, resting his chin on top of your head as he starts to move his hand back and forth slowly, coating himself in your juices. âSomeoneâs needy, mm? Canât believe you were hiding this from meâŠâ he trails off, biting his lip.
You fail to hold back a moan, muffling yourself with his shirt and biting the fabric between your teeth. Jake chuckles as he feels the fabric get wet against his chest from your saliva, gently pulling it from you. Tears prick against your waterline at the pleasure.Â
âLet me hear you fall apart, baby.â
You shake your head against him, babbling nonsense as his fingers get quicker, rolling your sensitive bud between his fingers before dipping into you. It feels like all the times youâve pleasured yourself thinking of him mean nothing â the real thing isnât even close to being compared. Itâs ecstasy that youâve never felt before, the second-hand high from earlier hitting you fully now. White appears at the edge of your vision, your breath catching as you fall against Jake.
The second he feels your thighs start to tremble around him, the pleasure in the pit of your stomach starting to build, he pushes two fingers into you slowly, spongy walls swallowing them right up. He sets a rhythm, coaxing you to ride his fingers while he kisses along the crown of your head.Â
âThere you go,â he whispers. âJust like that. Made for me, arenât you?â
His fingers are cold as they curl inside of you, hitting that spot deep in you that youâve never been able to reach yourself.
Jakeâs jaw clenches as he watches you fall apart on his fingers, the sight of you coming undone unlike anything heâs ever seen before. His erection is almost painful at this point, and if you keep making those noises, he knows heâll be ruining his pants in no time.
Your hips jerk, movements uncontrolled as the pleasure inside you builds quickly. You know youâre close when he drags his thumb against your puffy clit, pressing down before drawing shallow circles around it.
âCome on, baby. Let go for me.â
You shudder at his tone thatâs dropped an octave lower, an obvious rasp in his voice from all the overstimulation. His fingers are coated in you, your saliva still on his skin. The pace of his fingers double, helping you chase your release as he leans down to press a messy kiss to your lips.
Itâs finally when he thrusts up against the fabric of your pants that you shatter, coming apart with a broken moan as you bite his shoulder. Jake rocks you through it, helping you ride out your high with his fingers still inside of you. He doesnât stop, continuing to push in and out until you push against his hand in protest.
âJake,â you whine out, unable to say anything except his name as you slow your movements. His fingers slowly slip out of you, completely soaked before he brings them up to his mouth. His eyes burn into yours as he licks them clean, tongue circling around them before pushing against his tongue with a smile. You almost climax again at the sight, cheeks burning as you watch him hum around his own fingers.
âYou were so good for me,â he praises.
You look down in embarrassment, not getting very far before heâs capturing your mouth in a searing kiss once again. You taste yourself on him this time, eyebrows furrowing at the taste of cum and weed.Â
Jake doesnât give you even a second to think before heâs pulling away again, adjusting himself in his sweats. You shift your hips to reveal a dark stain on the front of his grey sweats, gaping in awe when you realize that he came from the mere act of getting you off. Your movements had dragged his pants halfway down his hips, the band of his boxers completely out as he makes no move to fix them. He lifts his hips, manhandling you to sit almost against his stomach as he settles back into the couch, breathing heavily.
âDid youâŠ?â you start, staring at the space when your bodies connect.
Jake turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears reddening.
âYou did this to me,â he says with a pout, dragging a finger through the wetness thatâs both a mix of yours and his. Poking his tongue into his cheek in mock annoyance, he squints up at you. âLittle minx.â
You hover, letting your hand drag slowly over his bulge and down his leg as he hisses at the feeling.
His jaw drops when you slide to the ground before him, knees hitting the ground between his open legs. Looking up at him with innocent, blinking eyes, you tilt your head before tossing your hair to one side and getting comfy with your arms in his lap.
Jake thinks he can cum from the view alone, that pretty mouth pouting at him as you paw at his sweats. You pull at the strings, focused. His head swirls with warning sirens, closing his eyes as he thinks about all the things youâve already done and what would happen if he took it further.Â
Would Sunghoon murder him in cold blood? Probably.
You make noises of protest from the back of your throat when Jake gently takes both of your hands in his, pulling you up until he can press his nose against yours. You can see the internal conflict in his gaze, guilt flickering through him as he looks from your messy hair to your swollen lips.
âWant you in meâŠâ you start, clumsily trying to pull out of his hold before falling forward as he tugs you into him.
Smoothing a hand over your hair, he shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you.Â
âNot today, baby.â
You frown, suddenly overly conscious of everything. The way the strap of your tank is halfway down your shoulder, the way Jakeâs still out of breath, the way you almost just went all the way with him. You seem to shrink, shifting out of his hold to sit back on your heels. The heat drains from your face, hands suddenly cold as you fold them together.
âWhy? You donât want meâŠ?â You say quietly, almost like you donât want him to hear you. Your heart drops, and it doesnât help that he stays silent as your mind runs through all of the possibilities as to why. Does he regret it? Already?
âŠmaybe his friendship with my brother is more important than this.
âWhat? Noâ what, thatâs notââ he splutters, bewildered at the way you start to pull away. He can feel his chest stop as he watches your face fall, starting to turn away from him before he desperately reaches out to have you close again.
âY/N, listen to me,â he says firmly, heart aching when you look back at him with confused eyes. âListen to me before you jump to any conclusions. I know that head of yours.â
Your throat tightens, lashes lowered.
âThereâs nothing I want more than you. All Iâve ever wanted is you, actually.â
Your mouth parts, surprised at the sincerity in his voice as he clasps your hands with a film shake. He sounds firm and sure, gaze determined as he confesses. He looks to the side, pausing.
âI hate that youâre doubting yourself because of me. And I know Iâve been terrible at showing it, my feelings towardsâ towards you. I know Iâve fumbled maybe a thousand times at telling you how much you mean to me, especially considering our friendship and your brother and our friends and all thatâ but I want this to be real, and I donât want you to think this is just a heat of the moment thing. You mean much more to me than just this⊠and you deserve a love thatâs patient,â Jake stares at you, the one that you only see when he feels like heâs won something worth fighting for.Â
âI want to stop running away from my feelings, and Iâm so sorry I let my fear get in the way of telling you this earlier. Canât stop thinking about the time we couldâve had together if I just told you how I felt,â he shakes his head, a bittersweet taste on his tongue. âIâm sorry that you had to be the one to initiate something for me to be honest with you. I want to take it slowly with you, if youâd let meââ
âJakeââ you interrupt his chain of thoughts, putting a hand on his knee.
ââand instead of telling you, I would get jealous on my own and do stupid things like bodycheck Heeseungâlike fuck, why did I even do that? Now he probably hates me too, oh godââ
âJaeyun,â you say firmly, cupping your hand over his mouth to shut him up. He stares at you at the abruptness, lips twitching against your palm.
âWhere did that come from?â You say softly, unable to hide your grin as giddiness overtakes you. âIâ Iâve been the same way, silly. Weâve both been stupid.â You rest your chin on his knee, peering up at him. âDonât apologize.â
His whole body seems to release all the tension thatâs been building up, fingers carefully brushing the hair out of your face.
âGod, how did I get this lucky,â he sighs out, throwing an arm over his forehead at your cute expression.
You giggle, overcome with the fact that Jake likes you. Jake likes you too.
âSo you like me, huh,â you tease, scooting forward. Moonlight bounces off the side of your face as you shift, every tiny sound amplified: the wind rattling against the windows, the hum of the fridge, the soft shift of fabric when Jake leans forward. You can still feel where his hand had been on your waist, the ghost of his thumb at your jaw.
âShut up,â he mumbles with a bashful smile, slightly mortified at how intently youâre looking at him. âYeah. Badly.â
âAnd you want meâ mmph!â you exclaim in surprise when Jake hooks his arm around your waist, his biceps flexing against you as he pulls you back into his lap. He spreads out on the couch, letting you curl comfortably in his chest with your face buried in his neck. The scent of cedar and bergamot orange clouds you, snuggling into him as he chuckles.
âHm? What was that?â
âNothing.â
âThatâs what I thought, baby.â
Youâre squirming in his arms, trying to get away from his wandering hands when the front door clicks open with a beep. You jump, flinching as it creaks open. Jake doesnât seem surprised. A head peeks through the crack before rolling his eyes at the scene before him.
âGet out of my apartment,â Sunghoon deadpans, kicking off his shoes, shimmying off his jacket and throwing it at the two of you. It hits you in the leg before falling to the ground. Tossing his keys and wallet onto the kitchen island, he grabs an apple off the counter before taking a bite and leaning his weight against it. Raising an eyebrow, he eyes the two of you.
You blink at him nervously, staring off into space somewhere between his shoulder and his wall. You hope Jake says something, because you sure arenât. What if he gets mad? What if he hates this? What ifâ
Your brother must see the look on your face because he sighs, putting his apple down before gesturing vaguely at you.Â
âDonât look at me like that, Rockstar,â he snorts, pointing at Jake. âBroâs been pining after you since we were like ten. This,â he looks pointedly between you and his best friend, âwas gonna happen at some point.â
You whirl around to look at Jake, a dusty rose spreading over his cheeks as he glares at your brother.
âReally?â You ask in wonder, ignoring the sound of Sunghoonâs fake retching behind you.
âGod, I hate love,â he continues in the background, fully ignored by you and Jake as the latter stammers his words at your attention.
âYeah, our friends always say that Iâm painfully obvious,â Jake confesses quietly, thumb rubbing circles against your leg.
âBut⊠but what about earlier today?â You hesitate to ask, turning back to Sunghoon whoâs now spinning himself around on a bar stool. âThe girl from your stats class?â
âWhat?â your brother says absentmindedly, spinning himself once more before stopping with a snap. âOhh, the girl from stats!â
âThere was no girl⊠Iâ I wanted to make you jealous. It was so stupid,â Jake admits, his face heating up even more as Sunghoon bursts out into laughter behind you.
âActually,â your brother starts, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes another bite of his apple. âSheâs very real. And she also just sucked me off in the bathroom of the bar I came from, sooo,â he trails off, âI think the real winner tonight is me.â
âHoly TMI, dude,â Jake complains from under you, the timbre of his voice humming against your side. He covers your ears from Sunghoonâs crass mouth as you make a face at your brother, his laugh reaching you even with Jakeâs hands protecting you.
âAnyway,â Sunghoon swings his legs off the stool, grabbing his phone before sneakily taking a picture of the two of you snuggled together on the couch. âImma send this to Jungwon so he can stop blowing me up on Kakao. Heâs been waiting for this since our first year, probably.â
You just sigh contently, happily pushing yourself into the warmth of Jakeâs chest and relieved that you donât have to hide your feelings anymore. The softness of his arms around you are no longer a daydream. The world shrinks to just this, the smell of him, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of his old hockey tee, the gentle press of his chin near your temple. His embrace is possessive and reverent, like youâre the most precious thing to him.
Your own breath finally slows.
For so long youâd been orbiting him â watching from across rooms, stealing glances, cataloging every laugh and look â and now, wrapped in his arms, that ache resolves into something quiet and full. You feel small in the best way, tucked against him, fitting into the hollow of his body. His hand moves absentmindedly along your side, curling into your skin and reminding you that this is very real.
Thereâs no more guilt humming at the edges of the moment, the pressures of facing your brother or telling your friends gone.
You finally have him.
âSo sorry to interrupt,â Sunghoonâs voice bursts the moment, popping up in front of you with an exaggerated smile. âLove that this is happening. Super cute. Mom and dad will be thrilled, I bet.â He pauses, biting his pointer finger between his teeth before looking at the two of you with a pointed stare. âIf you have sex on my couch though, different story. Iâm shooting everyone in this room and then myself. Thanks.â
You gape at him as Jake mutters a smug âcanât promise I wonât tryâ from behind you, earning a hard smack on the arm.
âJoking, Iâm joking, holy shit,â he chokes out, dodging to the side with you in his arms as your brother tries to land another hit.Â
âYou better be,â he says, eyes snapping down to the wet patch on the crotch of Jakeâs pants. ââCuz thatâs fucking nasty, man. I shouldâve let Heeseung knock some sense into you while we were still on the ice.â
You groan in mortification, burying your face deeper into his chest like you could disappear into the fabric of his shirt. From above you, Jake lets out a low, amused breath, his arms tightening instinctively around you as you hide. You can feel his chest shake beneath your cheek as he looks up.
You let out a muffled whine against him.
Jake, infuriatingly, only smirks, chin resting lightly atop your head. âYou only said she was off-limits, not the couch.â
âJaeyun,â your brother warns, raising a hand at him.
âOkay, okay,â Jake chuckles, finally easing back just enough that you can peek out from behind him, cheeks burning.
Your brotherâs expression softens when he sees your face. Youâre mortified and flustered, but still fully in Jakeâs arms.
He exhales. âYouâre lucky I trust you more than any guy at this goddamn university.â
Jakeâs laugh follows him down the hall, and his arms donât loosen. If anything, he pulls you in a little closer. Not for show, but because he needs it.
âI know,â he looks down at you, determined.
âAnd for what itâs worth,â Sunghoon adds with a wicked smile, already turning toward his bedroom, âif you make her cry, youâre benched for the season, Sim.â
END.
â
NOTE. thank you for reading this very self-indulgent fic âȘâȘâ€ïžâŹ I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. pls leave any and all feedback, it always makes my day and helps improve my writing so so much! this was all solely fueled by my first college hockey game of the semester. ts was lit asf, i was so into it that i literally lost my voice the next day LMFAO [ i thought i'd share a small clip from the game, esp because of how much of this fic was inspired by the strong hockey culture where i grew up. for your viewing pleasure HAHA ]
xx, kiachiako
-
© kiachiako, 2026. all rights reserved.
extra cheesy â e. sohn
pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader
genre: pizza boy! eric, very mild childhood friends to acquaintances to friends to lovers au. college au, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst. mutual pining, slowburn, jealous eric, oblivous reader, the whole lot... includes pizza boy! sunwoo and eric's older sister! lisa manoban.
wc: 31k (31.071)
warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mention of throwing up, mentions of jealousy, the reader and eric are the same height bc i wrote this for and about myself, talks about the ex-gifted kid burnout syndrome lol.
listen to: so american - olivia rodrigo, love - wave to earth and stuck with u - ariana grande and justin bieber
being a wingman is not always the easiest task - especially not when your roommate's target is best friends with someone taking your attention away from the main goal.
a/n: thank u so much best friend @csenke for beta reading as always and thank u best friend @from-izzy for hyping me up and listening to me ramble hours upon hours about this fic (oh and also for stepping in as the reader's roommate HAHA).
âCome on, we deserve a little pizza for dinner!â your roommate, Izzy, shakes your arm as she clings to you on the sofa the way she always does when she wants you to do something. And although your dear flatmate isnât usually the one to order in, much preferring to cook meals at home and save the leftovers for another day, you wouldnât find her desperation for pizza as strange, if it wasnât for the batting of her eyelashes and her pleading voice.
Surely, she doesnât need the pizza that much, right?
âIâm not saying we donât, Iâm just saying I have leftover soup from yesterday that I have to eat tonight or else itâs gonna go bad,â you justify your protests, âbut you can get one, if you want. Iâm not stopping you,â you say, furrowing your eyebrows at the girl in confusion before reaching for the TV remote.
âOh come oooon, Y/N,â she pressures, pouting at you in disappointment. More weight is put into your body as she clings to you, acting like a child throwing a tantrum. âYou deserve to have delicious pizza for dinner today, because you finally bagged that internship! Isnât that a reason to celebrate?â
âWe can just pop the champagne, if you wanna celebrateââ
âY/N, can we please just get the pizza tonight?â she turns serious for once, the smile disappearing off her face, replaced by a much more stoic expression. And see, thatâs a little scaryâ desperation can make people do bad, bad things. Youâd be a fool to turn down your flatmateâs requestâ youâd have to sleep with one eye open tonightâŠ
âOkay, fine,â you grunt, shaking your head at her ridiculous antics, âfrom the usual place?âÂ
âNO!â the girl chimes, making you jump in your place on the sofa with the loudness of her voice. If she wants to scream, she should move further away from your ear, goddamn it. After sending her a look full of anger, she offers you an apologetic one before she reaches for her laptop resting on the coffee table in front of you, opening it and pressing in a new Google search. âThereâs this place I found with Yizhuo after class one day,â she says, scrolling through the browser and finding the site of the place she wants to order from today, âand they make pretty good pizza. So just choose one and then Iâll put it through the online order.â
âThey have online orders?â you hum, interested. âTwenty-first century, this is. Online shopping for pizzaâŠâ you snicker, shaking your head in disbelief. Maybe youâre getting oldâ and itâs not like you donât enjoy the comfort this gives you, not at all, you just find it a little strange to order food over the internet. What happened to phone calls?
âYes, grandma,â Izzy sighs, âthatâs like, a normal thing, I fear.â
Rolling your eyes at her irony, you scan the menu before deciding on your usualâ margherita, extra cheesy. After pointing your finger at the pizza of your choice, your roommate takes it upon herself to add the meal to her cart (while also adding one she likes as well) before she proceeds further with the order. Your eyes stay glued to her, interested in the way this whole thing worksâ because letâs be real, ordering a pizza without having social interaction is every introvertâs dreamâ and watch as she hesitantly clicks onto the âadd a note to your orderâ section of the website.
Confusion fills your veins as you stare your roommate down. What more could she possibly need for this order? Does she not just want to eat? Does she need her pizza sliced in a special way, or does she want the pepperoni in the shape of a flower, or something? You really wouldnât be surprised, with how peculiar Izzy could get sometimes, but stillâ wasnât she the one mourning about how hungry she was just a few minutes ago? Surely, she would want her food to get here the fastest it can, with no additional requests that would take up too much time.
âDonât say anything,â she mumbles as she starts typing, and finally, it all starts to make sense.
The desperation in her voice. The determination. The need to have a pizza tonight, right now. Because after reading out the words sheâs written down, you realize that it was never about the pizza itself in the first place. Knowing Izzy, you shouldâve knownâ after the months of sharing an apartment with her, you shouldâve been able to predict her antics.
There, proud, black on white, shine five words saying: Send your cutest delivery boy :)
âIzzy what the fuckââ
âI told you not to say anything!â she cuts you off, clicking through the rest of the order hurriedly, as if worried you were going to make her delete her embarrassing request.
âOkay, miss, âI donât chase no man!â, I see that youâre living up to your motto. What? You ate there with Yizhuo last week and saw a cute guy doing deliveries, so you thought youâd drag him to our house instead of asking for his number like a normal person?â you grunt, shaking your head at the lengths your roommate is willing to go toâ while also making her own life twice as complicated as it needs to be.
âWell, pretty much, yeah,â she peeps as she closes the laptop after paying for your pizzasâ youâre not paying her back, just for the record. Not after she just publicly embarrassed you by making that stupid request with your address attached.Â
âAre you crazy?â you scoff. âWhy didnât you just talk to him back there?â
âHe was busy!â she mourns. âLook, this is me shooting my shot. Youâre getting a pizza out of it, so I donât see the problem here.â
âThe problem is you doing all of this when you couldâve literally just walked up to him last week and introduced yourself,â you say, watching your roommate physically crumble under your scolding, but truthful words.
Izzy slides down further into the sofa, as if to shield herself from the attack. She puts her hands over her face, hiding the blush on her cheeks as she mourns into the silent apartment. âLook, I was shy, okay?â she says.
âBut not shy enough to be so bold over the internet, huh?â you mock her, feeling your roommateâs hand slap your upper arm in frustration.
âYou shouldâve seen him, Y/N! There was no way I was going to walk up to him after the whole day I spent at uni. I looked like a dead rat, thatâs not how you pull men,â she mutters. âAnd he looked so perfect, so adorable, itâs⊠I keep thinking about him and his plump lips and his dark messy hair, and he was so tall andââ
âOkay, okay,â you cut her off, a hint of annoyance tinting your tone. âIâll see him with my own two eyes in a bit anyway,â you comment, âif heâs really the cutest out of them, as you requested,â you snicker.Â
âHe is! I swear. There is no way he isnât going to appear on our doorstep in a few minutes, trust me.â
Little did the two of you know that you caused havoc on the other side of the town. It was a slow day in Sohnâs Pizza, leaving the two part-timers on duty scrolling through their phones, awaiting any new customers. It was the middle of the week, 2 hours before their closing, and so the sound of the new online order coming in surprised the two boys, having the ownerâs son sit up from his place in the corner of the room and click through the system.
âDad, it says one extra cheesy margherita and one pepperoni!â Eric yells out into the kitchen, followed by a loud acknowledging hum from the cook himself. Sunwoo looks up from under his chocolate bangs, pausing the game heâs been playing on his phone, licking his lips.
âDo you wanna go?â he asks, obviously too lazy to move from the pizzeria. See, the two part-timers had many responsibilities. One wasnât just a delivery man or just the server. Because Ericâs father didnât really trust anyone with his business, he relied only on the people closest to himâ which caused this place to operate mostly as a family business. Sunwoo only got the job because he was Ericâs longest friend, and that made the Sohn family consider him as one of them.Â
That meant the pizzeria was almost always short on staff, thoughâ which was a problem Eric complained to his dad about more often than not, being too busy with deliveries and also wiping down the tables, serving the customers and helping with the sides. The poor boy already learned that his dad wonât do anything about it from the sheer discomfort of having to go through the hiring process with anyone, though, and so after a while, he just stopped trying.
âI dunno,â he shrugs, eyes scanning the order. âIt has a note, though.â
âWhat does it say?â Sunwoo asks, voice barely coated in any interest. Eric would argue that the boy doesnât really care, but is just asking to seem mentally present.
âSend your cutest delivery boy, smiley face,â Eric hums, snickering to himself. Now, thatâs a request he hasnât gotten beforeâ and the pizzeria has been open for quite some time now.
âOh, so Iâm going,â Sunwoo says, already standing up from his place in the camping chair behind the counter even though the order isnât ready yet, full confidence flowing through the manâs veins.
âDidnât you just ask me if Iâm going?â Eric jokes, eyes darting towards his coworker.
âYeah, but that was before I saw the note,â Sunwoo scoffs, âwe obviously donât want our customers to be unhappy, so Iâm going to do my job, and as the cutest one, go deliver these pizzas.â
âWhere did the confidence come from?â Eric clicks his tongue. âWell, that being said, I am going to deliver these.â
âSo you think youâre cuter than me?â Sunwoo looks at his friend with a stern face, and to be honest, itâs kind of funny how serious the matter is for the boys. They would both blame the 8 hour shift getting to their brains, but in reality, itâs clear as day that they both want to win this argument.Â
âIâd say so,â Eric nods. âDidnât you say you were more sexy than cute the other day?âÂ
Sunwoo looks at his friend suspiciously. He doesnât really remember the full context of the conversation, but he does remember stating the factâ and although heâd argue itâs true, he also doesnât want to lose to Eric. Because lookâ the job is taking up the majority of the boysâ time, so looking for a girlfriend has gotten severely more difficult.Â
Why not take the opportunity at work? And besides, everything is more entertaining than sitting around and waiting for the place to close for the day.
âI did,â Sunwoo carefully admits, âbut that was more to do with the general attractivity. Iâd say those two go hand in hand, and therefore me, as the objectively more desirable one, should go deliver these.âÂ
Eric blinks slowly at his friend, trying to process the self-absorbed words spilling out of the taller oneâs mouth. âAre you calling me ugly right now?â
âNoââ
âIâm pretty sure you just called me ugly.â
âI would neverââ
âIâd say Iâm the cuter one,â Eric snaps back, shrugging. âI have this aura around meââ
âNow youâre just being ridiculous. You know the note was obviously for me, so why donât we stop this and you let me make this delivery? You can always do the next oneââ
The argument is growing more heated. Who wouldâve thought such a simple note would lead to two men trying to advertise themselves as the cuter one? The room is filled with testosterone, although the objective of the fight was somewhere completely elseâ the question was who the cuter one was, and if they had to be truthful, they had to go with facts, no?
Small things are cute. Eric is shorter than Sunwoo. Logically, it should be himâ but he wonât say this comment out loud in fear of carrying the burden of admitting to his laughable height in front of his spiteful friendâs ears.Â
âHow can you tell it was for you?â Eric scoffs. The arguments were starting to get ridiculous.
âIt was the energy, I swear, the note is calling for meââ
âBoys, the pizzas are ready!â the voice of Ericâs dad calls from the kitchen, making both of them snap their heads towards the source and hurry. Never in a thousand years have either of them reacted to an order so quicklyâ not even in the highest of rushesâ when they reach for the two boxes with grabby hands, like it was some sort of a prize.
It felt like everything was on the line. Eric Sohn prides himself in being a fast runner, but when he senses the taller boy breathing down his neck, he breaks all rules of safe workspace and also friendship as he outstretches his leg towards the right, tripping the boyâ all to win the title of the cutest delivery boy.
Snatching the pizzas and also the car keys, Eric pays his coworker a victorious smile. Sunwoo glares at him from the ground, breathing heavily, anger roaring inside of his body. Eric finds this as his cue to hurry out before heâs attackedâ while heâs a good runner, he was never quite good at combatâ and so he jogs out of the pizzeria and unlocks the door to the Honda Civic parked outside, hopping in and typing in the address into the GPS on his phone.
Back over at your place, you try to pass the time by watching the TV. Netflix failed you with its poor selection of things to watchâ mainly because youâve already seen most of the true crime documentaries that you could findâ so you just let yourself get pulled into the doom of teleshopping, your brain quickly getting used to the flashing images and over-exaggerated voices advertising the newest sumo slicer. You had a long day at university todayâ while also finally managing to get the internship with the company you dreamed of working forâ and after all of the stress, your brain decided to simply turn off.
Youâre only taken out from your trance as the doorbell rings, making you jump slightly at the loud noise. Dinner must be hereâ your stomach churning at the premise of a good pizza already (you have to give it to Izzy. She was right and you do deserve pizza tonight)â and so you stand up from the sofa in the living room, calling for your roommate.
âIzzy, the pizzaâs here! Come get the door if you wanna see the guy!â you yell into the depths of your apartment.Â
You get no response. Did she fall asleep? âIzzy!â you call again, this time louder.
âComing!â you hear her reply. You wait a few seconds, standing in the hall, when the doorbell rings againâ after not opening the door for at least 2 minutes, youâre starting to get worried that the delivery man will just turn on his heel and take your pizzas away from you.Â
And you canât let that happenâ not when you were finally persuaded into eating themâ all because your roommate is seemingly getting ready to open the door and see the newly found love of her life, probably putting on some cute clothes in her room.
âIâm just gonna get it!â you say, reaching for the door handle.
Opening the door, you are met with the sight of a delivery boy standing on the other side, two boxes in his hands, shifting weight from his heel to the tips of his toes. He sends you a soft smile before he raises his eyebrows at you so high they almost touch the red cap adorning his head, opening his mouth to speak.
âEric?â
âY/N?â
Both of you shock the other with the recognition. You havenât seen Eric Sohn since elementary schoolâ and while you must admit that the son of your parentsâ friends grew up to be mildly attractive, you must say he hasnât changed a bit. Now, this whole interaction grew even more embarrassing for youâ you completely forgot about the note.
âHello?â your roommate calls from behind you, walking up to the door inâ you guessed itâ her finest clothes. She always wears this outfit out, which makes you roll your eyes at her. She is trying too hard. And for whom? Eric Sohn, of all people?
âIzzy, hereâs the cutest delivery boy you asked for,â you awkwardly say, trying to save your face. You wonât allow her to embarrass you like thisâ yes, you are completely content with throwing her under the bus in this situation. This is the boy you were forced to hang out with the whole entirety of elementary school, after all. You wonât let her humiliate you by making him believe it was you who found him so attractive.
Because letâs face itâ he wasnât. WellâŠÂ
Maybe he was and youâre lying to yourself. But stillâ you wonât let him think youâd be so pathetic to shoot your shot by an online order. The boxes in his hands have Sohnâs pizza written all over themâ maybe you shouldâve paid more attention to the name of the pizzeria you were ordering from.Â
âAh,â Izzy hums, and something in her composure shifts. Her shoulders drop and her smile dimsâ and thatâs when you realize Eric is not the delivery boy she was hoping for. You have to laugh at her.
Izzy makes no effort to move or take the pizzas from the boyâs hands, and thatâs when you take charge. Sighing at her, you move her out of the way before you send Eric an apologetic smile, freeing him off your order. âThank you for the pizzas,â you say, watching as the delivery boy nods at you, offering you an awkward smile.
You push the boxes into Izzyâs hands, ordering her with your eyes to take them into the kitchen. As she slowly moves out of the hall and disappears into the apartment, you face the boy again, still standing at your doorstep. You scan him all overâ from the top of his red cap thatâs hiding his honey blonde locks to the black cargo pants covering his legsâ before you nod to yourself, the awkward atmosphere making you tense under his gaze.
âUhmâŠâ you hum, not really knowing what else to say to diffuse the atmosphere. This is embarrassing. This is humiliating. Why did your dumb roommate do this?Â
Now she got the poor boy disappointed. Couldnât Izzy at least act like heâs the one?
âWell, Iâll.. see you around, I guessâŠ?â Eric says, nodding to himself. He scratches the back of his neck as he looks at youâ one short glance up and down that doesnât go unnoticed by you, making you instantly regret getting the door in your sweatpants and the pink socks with hearts and a single hole on the toe on themâ before he takes a step back from the doorstep and starts walking away from your apartment.
âYeah,â you clear your throat, mentally punching yourself with how pathetic you sound, âsee you around. And⊠and thank you again! For the pizzas, I meanâŠâ you hum. Now, youâre mentally kicking yourself. Scratch that, youâre throwing yourself down the stairs. Why are you so awkward? Youâre only making it worse.
He flashes you a smile, not oblivious to the shame you feel. If you really think about it, the situation is kind of funny, isnât it?Â
âBye, Y/N,â he says, waving at you as he walks down the stairwell, sending you one last glance over his shoulder.
âYeah, bye!â
Closing the door behind you, you try to take deep breaths to steady yourself. You will murder your roommate with your own two hands and use her blood as the sauce for your pizza. Slowly walking towards the kitchen, you see Izzy munching on the pepperoni slice, sending you a look full of innocence.
âWell, that didnât work out,â she says, trying to make light of the situation, ignoring how embarrassing this situation was for both parties involved. Without a word, you sit down at the table, opening the box of your pizza of choice, taking a bite.Â
âAre you okay? You seem a bitââ
âShut it.â
âHow was it, bubs?â Izzy asks you once you get into the car while simultaneously reaching for the volume button on the radio, turning the music down so she can hear you talk.
âTerrible,â you mourn, sighing as you buckle your seatbelt and watch your roommate back out of the parking lot. She was nice enough to offer to drive you home after your first day of your new mandatory internship, and although you told her over and over how you didnât need a ride and could just walk home after, youâre actually very grateful for her act of kindness nowâ for your feet hurt like a bitch and youâre so mentally tired you think you could get lost on your way home, had you not paid enough attention.
âThat bad?â she hums, voice full of consideration. Izzy only pays you a short look full of undeniable worry before she gazes back at the roadâ thankfully, because she is not the best driver and you think her not paying full attention to where sheâs going would significantly lower the chances of you getting home safely todayâ subtly allowing you to vent about the day you had.
A grunt escapes your mouth. âYeah,â you agree, âitâs justâ god. The place is full of morons, my boss is demanding a marketing project from me until the end of my internship, everyone keeps using me as their coffee delivery person because Iâm new, and I forgot everyoneâs names alreadyâŠâ you complain, furrowing your brows in concern. How are you going to survive going there weekly?
As a business student, you have to go through an internship in order to successfully graduate. Getting one was already hard enough, but the responsibilities that come with doing all the stuff youâre not even educated enough to do yet are only making the weight on your shoulders heavier and heavier to the point where you suddenly start to doubt if youâre even good enough for your major. Hell, you barely have any interest in it in the first placeâ hence why you lack the enthusiasm your boss would surely love to see from you.
âCanât they just not make it easier for you?â she shakes her head in disapproval. âYouâre a mere student, not the new hire,â Izzy grunts, sympathizing with you.
âApparently not,â you roll your eyes. âIâm so tired, manâŠâ you sigh, resting your head against the window, letting your eyes close for a bit. âThanks for giving me a ride, Izz.â
âNo worries,â she innocently replies. Almost too innocently, you thinkâ but with the amount of hours you slept last night and the mental overload of new information you had today, you choose to not pay much attention to it. Maybe youâre just making it upâŠ
If the drive was a bit longer, youâre sure you wouldâve fallen asleep. The car comes to a halt in a few more minutes, though, and the sudden silence of the vehicle as the engine turns off and the radio goes silent has you opening your eyes, scanning your surroundings.
And you were right. Izzy was almost too nice in giving you a ride home. You shouldâve known she always had different motives.
âWhy are we here?â you ask, choosing not to face her so you donât have to look at the dumb smile on her face again, for you think that if she dared to force innocence on herself right now, youâd seriously punch her.
âOh,â she hums, âI thought we could get pizza for dinner.â
âWe had pizza last week,â you deadpan, tone of voice only a bit hostile.
âThatâs correct,â she agrees, âhowever, I am in the mood for some pizza right now. And we donât really have any groceries at home, so I think this is the best alternative to end your bad dayââ
âYouâre not dragging me in there after embarrassing us so much last week, Isabelle,â you grunt, pulling out the full name to act more tough and get your point across. âI am never going there again. You simply canât force meââ
âOh come on! Youâre ruining all fun.â
âThatâs because I am not having fun right now,â you note, already too tired after the long day.
âThen let me cheer you up! I donât know why youâre making such a big deal about it,â Izzy glares at you, sighing. âBesides, the last time I checked, you owe me pizza, and I would like to redeem that now.â
âSince whenââ
âDonât think I forgot that you didnât pay me back last time,â she cuts you off, sending you a stern look.
If you were closer to home right now, you wouldâve left the car and just walked back to your apartment, leaving your dear flatmate to get her pizza alone. You both know youâre not here for the pizza itself anywayâ so why does she need you there? As an excuse? Itâs already embarrassing enough for the both of you. Why wonât she just drop it?
But since the circumstances are given the way they areâ youâre tired, hungry, frustrated and full of worry about your internshipâ you figure there is really no need to argue with your roommate right now. When she sets her mind on something, she is going to get it, no matter what. You know her well enough.
âFine,â you sigh, getting out of the car and slamming the passenger door with as much force as you can humanly conjure in yourself after the long day, satisfaction flowing through your veins at the sound thatâs loud enough to make your roommate jump in surprise.
Youâre going to give her what she wants, but youâre not going to act happy about it. Youâre just gonna get the pizza and leave. Thatâs the plan.
Walking up to the building of Sohnâs Pizza, you push the door open, ears instantly catching the low music coming from speakers situated in the corners of the room. You havenât been here before, so you take your sweet time looking aroundâ noticing the neat-looking interior, admiring the wooden furnitureâ before you walk towards the table in the corner of the middle-sized restaurant, sitting down. Izzy follows you like a lost puppy with its tail wagging because she got what she wanted before she sits down opposite of you, offering you a giant smile. She is like a kid under the Christmas tree with the toy she always desired securely in her grasp. Which is weirdâ the cute delivery boy hasnât even shown up yet.
After scanning the menu for a bitâ since you already know what youâre going to getâ a server walks up to your table, a big, welcoming smile on her face. She is short even when wearing heels, hair pulled up into a ponytail, straight-across bangs sitting on her forehead. Itâs been years since you last saw her, but the resemblance is undeniableâ itâs Eric Sohnâs older sister.
âHello! What can I get for you today, girls?â she asks as she takes out a notepad. Her eyes land on you for a bit before she gasps, even a bigger smile appearing on her cheeks, if thatâs possible. âOh my god, Y/N?â
âYeah,â you nod, grinning. âItâs me.â
âHow are you?â she asks, beaming. You and Lisa were never really closeâ since she was so much older than you back when you hung around the Sohnâs house, but she was always really kind to you. You remember her making snacks for you and Eric to eat in afternoons or taking you two out to get ice cream, your heart squeezing at the nostalgic memories.
âIâm good, what about you?â you ask, genuinely interested.
âIâm fine,â she nods. âWell, just rotting in here, if Iâm being honest, but other than that, Iâve been good,â she laughs, making you mirror her actions.
âWell, itâs really pretty here, if that makes you feel any better,â you smile.
She shrugs at your compliment. âI did most of the decorating, so it should be,â she snickers before she looks back at you after scanning over the entire room. âWhat will you get today, then?â
âJust a margherita is fine,â you note, âcould I possibly get extra cheese on that?âÂ
âAnything for little Y/N,â she hums, making you roll your eyes at her teasingâ yet the grin never leaves your features. âAnd for your friend?â
âIâll get pepperoni,â she peeps. Itâs unusual for your roommate to be so quiet in a conversationâ you guess she was caught off guard at your sudden acquaintanceship with the staff in her new favorite restaurant.
âComing right up!â Lisa smiles, walking away from your table.
After the server leaves, you are left with a few seconds of silence from your roommate. You raise your brows at her in question, mocking her change in demeanor, waiting for her to get back to her usual, chatty self. âWhat?â
âYou know her?â
âObviously,â you snicker. âOur families used to be close years ago,â you note, shrugging. âWe lived in the same neighborhood.â
âWowâŠâ she hums. âSo you know that guy who dropped our pizzas off last week as well?â
âI do,â you nod. âWe are the same age, so our mums forced us to hang out often.â
âInterestingâŠ.â Izzy says, lost in thought. If you didnât know better, youâd suspect she was scheming something up. Actually, you think you know her well enoughâ just give it a few more minutes.
The door opens again, making you two look around and watch the people coming into the restaurant. Instead of new customers, you are met with two men obviously wearing work uniformsâ white shirts with a pizza logo in red on themâ the shorter one with a cap on, the taller one with baggy jeans adorning his long legs. You recognise one of them instantlyâ and even despite the nature of the restaurant, his presence still shocks you and makes you feel alarmed.
You feel something come in contact with your shin as your roommate kicks your leg under the table. âThatâs him, thatâs him, thatâs himââ Izzy chimes, whispering, making you furrow your brows at her in question. Yeah, of course thatâs him. Ericâs dad owns the restaurant. Who the other guy by his side is, though, you donâtâ
oh.
So that must be the cute delivery boy your roommate has been thirsting over for the last couple of weeks. She has a lot of determination in her, youâll give her that. If it was you, you wouldâve forgotten about a random mediocrily attractive server after a day or two. Not her, though. What a strange womanâŠ
âY/N!â you hear for the second time today. Your heart skips a beat at the tone this time, making you remember the events of last week, heat instantly creeping up your neck at the memory.
âHi,â you peep, watching as the two men make a bee-line towards your table.
âHello,â he greets. He wears a bright smile on his faceâ one that makes his cheeks look fuller, something in his eyes glimmering (you think it might just be the reflection of the lights). He is wearing a blue cap today, covering his honey locksâ which leaves you wondering if he has a fucked haircut, or if he really just likes to wear hats that muchâ but other than that, his attire is the same as last time. âWhatâs up?â he asks.
Casual. Friendly. Like nothing happenedâ like this whole encounter isnât totally embarrassing.Â
Or is it not? Are you just being overly-dramatic again? You really donât know at this point.Â
Still, you act nonchalant. âOh, not much,â you hum, âjust got off my first day of internship, so we decided to get some pizza to comfort myself.â
âDidnât go well?â Eric asks, a sympathetic look on his face. Somehow, his concern seems genuine.
âYou could say that,â you note, shrugging.
âIt will be better next time,â he says lightly, smiling at you all encouragingly. For the first time in the last couple of seconds, you pay attention to your roommate againâ seeing her eyes glued to the taller boy. If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts drawn in her sockets and she would be drooling. Izzy seems to be totally enchanted with the delivery boy currently standing to Ericâs right, and you canât stand the view any longer.
âOh, this is Sunwoo, by the way,â Eric says, introducing his coworker.Â
âNice to meet you,â you smile, shaking the boyâs hand. He sends you a boyish grin, greeting you back, before he moves towards your flatmate, holding her hand in his.
âIzzy,â she introduces herself, tone of voice a few octaves higher than usual. âWeâre roommates.â
âI gathered as much,â Eric notesâ almost a little awkwardlyâ making your body electrify with a full body cringe. Why canât he just pretend last week didnât happen?
âYeah,â you hum, nodding and scratching the back of your neck. âShe pretty much dragged me here, hahaâŠâ you vocalize the laughter as a word, mentally slapping yourself. Haha? Whatâs so funny? Y/N, youâre only making it worse.
âWell, itâs nice seeing you again,â Eric says. When your eyes meet, he averts his gaze, an awkward cough battling its way out of his throat. âUhm⊠we better get back to work, or else my sisterâs gonna kill meââ
âOh, but itâs not busy!â Izzy suddenly utters out, making you snap your head towards her with shock, a look worthy of many words burning a hole into the middle of her forehead. What is she thinking? âWhy donât you sit with us for a while? It seems like you and Y/N have a lot to catch up on,â your roommate sweetly says, throwing the burden onto your shoulders again.Â
Why are you suddenly forced into the role of a wingman? You really didnât sign up for this.
âOh, Iââ
âI could use a little break,â Sunwoo grins, not even waiting for his coworker to immediately deny the idea. You swear you can mentally hear your roommate's excited squealing on a telepathic frequency as the dark-haired boy takes a seat right next to her, sprawling his legs wide and resting his back against the chair, seemingly tired. âCome on, Eric. Lisa has a soft spot for me, she wonât eat our heads off.â
Eric meets your gaze. You hope your brains match at frequencies with the boy as well as you send him mental apologies, the atmosphere once again getting too awkward for you to handle. He seems to be the victim of his friendâs terrorizing strategies as much as you are, though, so you think there is silent understandment hanging in the air over the two of you as he reluctantly sits on the chair next to you.
Youâre starting to think Izzy has a death wish. Youâre also starting to be fairly certain that you will be the one to fulfill it.
The passage of time is weird. Itâs a strange construct to you, finding yourself dwelling on it at times when itâs the least suitable toâ especially when you have things to do and a workload to get through. See, itâs incredibly bizarre to you how when youâre doing nothing, time is passing by quickly without you even noticing it: a few episodes of your favorite TV show go by and youâre suddenly well into the evening. When youâre working on assignments, though, it seems like time has stopped.Â
You promised yourself youâre going to stay in the library and work on the project you were assigned in your internship until at least 6PM. You arrived at 3 oâclockâ three hours should be easy, right? Not that much time.
Wrong. Because you swear youâve been aimlessly searching around the internet and writing things down for at least 10 years now, and itâs only been an hour and you still have two more to go. Time is weird like that. Itâs fascinatingâ at least when you hypnotize the numbers in the right corner of your screen, sucked into the doom of your laptop. Maybe you shouldâve taken Physics instead. Youâd love to learn about this.
(The fact that this has nothing to do with Physics and everything to do with your focus and attention is a completely invalid argument to you at this moment, so you donât even let yourself think about it.)
Something finally pulls you out of the hyper focused state that you put yourself in while staring at the time on your screen (as if to mentally push the clock to go faster), and that is a figure moving right opposite of you, resting their hand on the back of a chair.
âHi,â you hear, making you snap your head up and face the intruder, âcan I sit here?â
âHiâŠ?â you mumble, watching the boy in front of you not wait for your answer as he pulls the chair back and settles his body onto it. He empties his pockets in the true manly fashionâ putting his wallet, his phone and his keys onto the wooden tableâ all while letting you absorb his existence for a bit before you have to react to it some more.Â
You spent years not seeing Eric Sohn. Now, you bump into him at least every other week. Strange.
He is wearing a simple white hoodie, his hair now not covered by a cap. You glance over the honey blonde locks, noting to yourself that he does not have a messed up trim, which means he just must like hats a lot. You feel like you should probably say somethingâ start up a conversationâ but the shock of seeing him is still settled deep in your bones, stopping you from every attempt.
Looking around the library, you note that itâs half-emptyâ meaning that Eric couldâve chosen any seat, any other seat in the whole entire placeâ yet he chose to sit right opposite of you at one of the long tables in the middle of the room. Nodding to yourself as you absorb the information, you open your mouth to say somethingâ anythingâ before the boy beats you to it, acting in his true, nonchalant casualty.
âWhat are you working on?â he asks. âI mean⊠you seemed quite miserable when I arrived, so I assumed it was for the best to take you out of the frozen state before you go crazy,â he jokes, having you close your mouth and awkwardly smile at him.
âYeah,â you hum, shrugging. âI was mainly just trying to force the time to go quicker with the sheer power of my gaze, but I think it doesnât work like thatâŠâÂ
âYou set up a timer for yourself?â he asks, laughing.
âKinda,â you nod. âI knew I had to hold myself accountable and do work, or else Iâm going to leave things until the last minute and hate myself even more for not doing anything sooner, so I told myself Iâll work on my assignments until 6, but itâs⊠easier said than done.â
Eric nods at you, acknowledging your struggle. He takes out his own laptop and presses the power button. As he waits for it to turn on, he looks back at you, his gaze making you nervous.Â
Itâs not that you donât like Ericâ not at all, you have your fair share of fond memories with the boy when you were littleâ itâs just that you havenât seen him in ages, havenât properly talked to him since you were kids. You know nothing about the man he is right nowâ aside from the fact that his father owns a pizza place now. You donât even know what he majors in. Hell, you didnât even know he went to the same university as you up to this pointâ which makes everything just a little bit too awkward for you.
How to navigate the conversation? What to talk about? Why does he not just⊠ignore you? Itâs not like the two of you were that close in the first place.
âWhat do you major in?â he asks. You wonder if itâs sheer politeness, or if he really just wants to know.
âBusiness,â you say, tone of voice hinting that youâre not really satisfied with your own answer. âIâm actually supposed to be working on a project for my mandatory internship right now.â
âDamn⊠what is it?â he asks.Â
Scratching the back of your neck, you lick your lips before answering. âItâs like⊠I have to make a pitch about a new product for them to sell. I work in the sales section for Trust, the insurance company, so I have to do a lot of⊠market research⊠and then also marketing⊠itâs⊠kind of a lot, actuallyâŠâ you nervously laugh, trying to diffuse the fact that youâre genuinely scared of the very project you were assigned.
Eric stares at you with interest, a look of acknowledgement settling onto his face. âWow. That sounds hard.â
âI mean, I donât knowâŠâ you shrug. âMaybe Iâm just too stupid for thisââ
âNo youâre not,â the boy instantly cuts you off, shaking your head. âIâd say they just have high demands from you.â
His words do a bit to soothe you. You avoid asking your classmates about their internships in fear of being the only one thatâs finding things hard and being overly-dramatic. Talking to someone who doesnât really have the same experience as you makes things a bit easierâ you can complain and they wonât judge, because thereâs no way they know how it feels. Eric wonât judge you for finding your business internship hard, because he doesnât know what it takesâ at least not on his own skin. But if youâd complain to your classmate Yeji, for example, she might find it weirdâ what if your tasks are the easiest thing to do in her eyes?
âThanks,â you hum. âWhat do you major in, though?â you ask him, somehow committing to keeping the conversation going for just a little more time.
âCommunications,â he laughs. âI just⊠write a lot of papers, I guess.â
âAh,â you nod in acknowledgement.Â
You feel like you should add something. Maybe you should comment, sympathize, ask more questions, but in the moment, no fitting words reach your mind. After a heartbeat of silence, Ericâs eyes finally leave your figure to focus on his laptop, and the only thing resonating through your brain is the fact that the last two times you met him, it was painfully awkward and maybe a little strangeâ which leads you to questioning the fact that he still chose to approach you today.
âLook, Eric, we⊠you donât have to act like weâre friends now,â you say, refusing to meet his gaze. Somehow, your blank laptop screen is much more interesting. âAnd Iâm sorry about last week,â you note, tone of voice lightheartedâ trying to mask how much you actually think about the encounters and how they make you wish they never even happened. Somehow, you worry about how youâre perceived by him. âMy roommate just kind of likes your coworkerâ Sunwooââ you call him by his name, âso she has been doing all of this to get his attention, and itâsâŠâ
âItâs okay,â Eric laughs, making you glance up from the blank document and finally meet his eyes. There is no stern look on his face, no signs of disappointment or disgust on his features. It helps you calm down a bit. âIâm used to girls being all over Sunwoo, really,â he says, shrugging.
âYeahâŠâ you sigh. âSorry for making it all awkward, and stuff. As I said, you donât have to feel obliged toââ
âI donât, though,â he hums. The sentiment silences you. You offer him nothing but a nod, suddenly at a loss for words. âLook, we used to be close when we were kids,â he shrugs, âso donât even worry about it.â
Youâre not really sure what his words are meant to imply. Does he mean that youâre friends now again? Does he mean he doesnât find this whole thing absolutely awkward? Are you supposed to hang out more often now? Do you get his number?Â
After trying to clarify everything, youâre left even more confused.
If thereâs one thing about Eric Sohn that you remember from your childhood, itâs the fact that heâs friendly. And also⊠pretty fucking competetive. âItâs almost 4:30. Whoever gives up on their assignment first pays for coffee later, yeah?â he challenges you, looking at you with mischief glimmering in his dark orbs.
You guess both of these qualities stayed with him until adulthood, and although you were awkward with him just a few minutes ago, you donât really have it in you to overthink the interaction any longer.
âDeal,â you nod.
As if this was all the motivation you needed, you get back to working.
âJokes on you, drinking is not a forfeit for me,â Jake, the underclassmen you see around the campus sometimes says after a round of spin the bottle in which he refuses to make out with the person to his right (that was friend Sunghoon from middle school, just for the record), âI actually enjoy it. Soââ
âYou should stop drinking, dudeâŠâ the said friend nudges him to his shoulder, looking at the boy with a concerned look in his eye. Itâs no secret that both of them are light drinkers, but one of them is clearly handling his alcohol worseâ and itâs the shorter one of the two.Â
âWhy? You wanna make out with me?â
âIâd rather not carry you home again, thatâs allââ
âThat sounds a bit sus, Hoonââ Jake snickers before he downs the shot of whatever alcohol is passed to him, âyâknow, if you wanted to kiss me, you couldâve just said soâŠâ he slurs, making Sunghoon sigh, closing his eyes for a second to collect himself in time before the frustration in him turns into anger and he swings at his friend.
You canât help but laugh at the commotion. You donât really go out to party muchâ since you and Izzy are introverted, you donât really search for these types of gatheringsâ but you figured that doing something other than watching the TV on a Friday evening would be nice. Especially when you were invited by the guy you met in your internship.Â
It felt rude to deny an invitation to a party by Park Jihoon, given the fact that you wanted to make friends and connections during your stay with the company. He is an intern just like youâ maybe a bit more energetic and extroverted, thatâs all. Which you welcome with open arms, just for the record. Itâs been a while since an extrovert extroverted the way they are supposed to and adopted youâ itâs always a pleasant experience.
Youâre also not really the one to participate in a game of spin the bottle. You find such games embarrassing and nerve-wrecking. They induce anxiety in you from what you have to do, and itâs not the good kind. The adrenaline in your veins is enough for you to call it quits, but then again, youâre always good at falling for peer pressure and your roommateâs battling eyelashes are ones you donât find yourself resisting too often.Â
Thereâs alcohol running through your system, warming you up. Wearing a cropped top and shorts surprisingly didnât really help you to cool down as you soothe yourself with alcohol after another week of stressing yourself over your damn internship project (which Jihoon offered to help with, but youâre too much of an individualist to let anyone partake in even just the smallest task of your assignment) and after careful consideration, you realize you havenât had that much to eat before turning up to the party.
Which is always a mistake. Drinking on an empty stomach is one of the biggest flaws you bring with yourself to social gatherings.
âMaybe I should eat,â you suddenly comment, perking up the attention of Jihoon to your right. He looks at you with considerate eyes and nods.
âThere should be pizza coming soon, actually.â
âReally?â you gasp, excitement suddenly flowing through your bones. Itâs been at least a month since you last had pizza, and youâre slowly starting to crave it. Did Izzy give up on that cute delivery boy? Maybe you should remind her⊠the pizza was worth it, you must admit.
âYeahââÂ
And as if you wished it into existence, the sound of the doorbell suddenly brings you out of the conversation and has people closest to the door standing up to get it.
It seems like randomly running up to Eric Sohn is your newest hobby. Itâs strange how life worksâ you havenât seen him in ages, and suddenly, he finds his way to randomly walk back into the plotline of your life casually, as if it was fate. Itâs kind of laughable, really.Â
Because there he isâ standing behind the door with boxes of pizza in his hands, accompanied by his friend Sunwoo holding up even more. The amount could feed a whole village, you think, and youâre suddenly glad you arenât the one paying for the food, since youâre sure it would add up to a big check. The crowd hollers at the two boys at the door, and it takes you a few seconds to realize itâs not because of the feast they just brought into the building.
âEric! Sunwoo! Come in, you two!â Jihoon suddenly calls from next to you, waving the two over with a motion of his hand. This has the shorter boy look into the spacious living room, eyes scanning the surroundings. His eyes fix on you for a second, offering you a smile, before they move back to the host.
âCanât, weâre on the clock, actually,â Eric snickers awkwardly, shrugging.
âOh come on!â Haechan, the boy that was introduced to you today as Jihoonâs best friend, joins. It seems like everyone around knows exactly who Eric Sohn is, and it leaves you wondering just how you managed to unawarely avoid him for all those years. âJust for a bit!â
âYeah,â Jihoon adds. âJust stay for like 10 minutes, or something. Actually,â the tipsy boy has a million-dollar idea, âIâm not paying yâall until you stay for a bit. How about that?â
âGreat, dude,â Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head in disbelief at his friendâs tactics. âLetâs go in, then.â
The two get ridded of the pizzas they brought, walking up into the room. You feel Izzy poking your leg with her pointer finger repeatedly, and when you look at her, she is staring at you with eyes that remind you of someone slowly slipping into a manic state. You think itâs the effect of Kim Sunwoo entering the room with a smirk on his face, but youâre not really sure at this point.
âWhat are we playing?â Sunwoo asks the obvious as he sits down, dragging his friend with him. Their spot is currently straight across from you. After more careful examination, you realize Ericâs eyes are glued on your figure, making you smile at him and wave silently before he moves to scan your new friend sitting close to your right.Â
The last time youâve seen Eric was that day at the library. That was almost 2 weeks ago now, and although you went for a coffee after you declared that you âsimply canât do it anymoreâ and âwould rather die than to work on this project any longerâ, he insisted on paying for both of your drinks instead of making you do it, as was previously agreed on. You exchanged numbers after chatting and walking around for a bit, and although you waited for him to text you the same week, he never did, and you never tried to make conversation either.
Somehow, you simply didnât know what to say. Then againâ itâs not like the two of you were friends in the first place.
The game proceeds like before even with the new members added. Some of the people hanging out around the living room move to eat the pizzas, but if youâre being completely honest, the idea of eating was long forgotten to you the moment Eric and Sunwoo walked through the front door. Admittedly, maybe you did have a considerate amount to drink this evening, because everything is starting to turn into a bit of a blur from this moment. You watch the game absent-mindedly, not really taking much in, as your eyes sometimes subconsciously move to Eric sitting leisurely on the sofa opposite of you.
After a round where Jihoon is asked to suck on Haechanâs toe and Yizhuo is told to confess the last person she hooked up with (which was a guy to whose name everyone gasped, but left you clueless, since you didnât really know who it was), your biggest fears are proven to be reality as the bottle lands on you. Heartbeat instantly picking up at speed, making you hear your own blood in your ears, you look up from the cursed item and wait to hear your ordeal.
Who wouldâve thought playing spin the bottle would feel like a near-death experience?
âTruth or dare?â Yizhuo asks.
After a second of consideration, you blurt out: âDare.â
Big mistake. At least you can lie when you pick the truth, goddamn it. What was drunk you even thinking�
âOkay,â she nods, contemplating for a bit. As the gears in her head start working and the idea comes into her brain, a smug smirk appears on her face, hinting that this whole evening was a bad, bad idea. âI dare you to sit in the lap of the hottest guy here for three rounds.â
The crowd goes crazy.Â
Girls gasp, guys whistle, and your brainâ it completely shuts off. Alcohol should logically make you feel more courageous and daring, no? Thatâs what they all say.Â
Youâre the one to prove the sentiment wrong as you gulp and contemplate your next decision. Given the fact that youâre one shot away from throwing up, you decide to not drink to protect yourselfâ making sure you save your image and donât embarrass yourself by showing the contents of your stomach to everyone on Park Jihoonâs beige rug.
Scanning the circle, you watch the men situated right in front of you in the living room. It resembles window shopping a bit, except youâre feeling really fucking miserable while doing it. You know itâs all fun and games and that if you take the situation with enough nonchalance, everything will turn out fineâ hell, some might not even remember this moment in the morning, so itâs really not that big of a dealâ but the more you contemplate the object of your dare, the more nervous youâre starting to feel.
Kim Sunwoo is a clear no go. You and Jihoon are close enough where it wouldnât feel awkward, but somehow, you know you would be lying to yourself if you picked him. Your eyes smoothly drift past Haechan, Jake and Sunghoon, all the way past Renjun and Jeno to Eric sitting right across from you, eyeing you with interest in his dark orbs.Â
The circle is starting to rush you. Jihoon nudges your side, telling you to âjust pick one,â, making you briefly glance at him with a stern look in your eyes. After your gaze lands back on Ericâ whose eyebrows slightly furrow when he notices you paying attention to your new friendâ you come to a downing realization of the fact that somehow, your eyes keep landing on the short boy, not really wanting to look away.
Itâs alright. Itâs nothing. Eric Sohn is conventionally attractiveâ youâre sure itâs not that big of a deal.Â
Standing up from your spot, hearing the crowd pick up the excitement, you walk over to the other side of the circleâ while trying not to trip over your own foot and fall over in the process. Eric looks up at you with big eyes glimmering, expecting your final answer, making your palms sweat and voice a little shaky as you awkwardly let out.
âDo you mindâŠ?â
The question is laughable, really. You audibly hear Yeji and Yizhuo squeal in excitement at your action, while Haechan hollers out a laugh from the back. Trying to ignore the reactions, faking nonchalance, you watch as Eric shifts slightly in his spot and moves his hands to his sides, as if to make some space for you, before he shrugs.Â
âGo ahead.â
Nodding to yourself, you scratch the back of your neck before you turn your back to him and slowly settle yourself onto his lap.Â
And here you thought the delivery boy incident could simply not be beaten on the scale of awkward and embarrassing moments with Eric Sohn.
Itâs now your turn to spin the bottle, you realizeâ which you try to focus on instead of the fact that you are currently sitting in the lap of the guy you grew up withâ making you bend to the ground and proceed with the game. Only three rounds and you can move back to your initial spot, you think. You just have to survive three rounds of this stupid game before youâre free.
Watching the empty wine bottle spin in circles before it stops, your eyes move to the side with the opening, trying to see who it landed on. When you look up, your roommate is staring back at you with a suspicious look on her face, not even waiting for you to ask the question to determine her fate. âDare,â she spits out.Â
Her eyes bear into you with such intensity you think sheâs trying to tell you something, but right as you try to match her brain frequency and decipher what exactly she wants from you right in this moment, you feel Ericâs hands land lightly onto your sides.Â
They donât move, nor do they put any pressure into your skin. They just lay there, fingers on the skin of your bare midriff, sending an electric shock into your brain that completely shuts off your telepathic communication with Izzy, making you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind.
âUh⊠prank call your latest hook up and tell him you want to get together with him,â you say.
She immediately throws darts into your skull, making you regret your decision.Â
What? Is it not spicy enough? Judging from the reactions of the rest of the players, youâd say you did a good jobâ which makes you believe she just didnât want to expose hooking up with Jaemin in front of everyone.
Nonetheless, she moves on with the dare. You donât really pay much attention to it as a wave of sickness comes over you. Youâre genuinely left seeing things twice, which leads you to close your eyes and rest your head in your hands for a second before a low voice lands into your ear.
âHow drunk are you on a scale of 1 to 10?â Eric asks.
âLike⊠8, I think?â you snicker. âIâm okay, I just need toââ
Before you get a chance to finish your sentence or even barely think of what would help you in this moment, you feel Ericâs hands on your sides lightly tug your body towards him, leaving you to fully glue your figure onto his. Your back meets his front, sprawling out onto the sofa, leaving you to settle your head onto his shoulder.Â
You canât say your stomach feels less crazy at the moment, but you also canât say this isnât strangely nice. âBetter?â he asks.Â
You think you lost your voice for a second, so you only offer him a nod.Â
His next actions leave you wondering if heâs always been this touchy and affectionate. While one of his arms sneaks around your waist and holds you to him, his other palm leaves to take its new place on your thigh. The rational side of your brain is telling you that this is just the most comfortable place to let your arms rest when you have someone sitting in your lap, but itâs still enough to have heat rising up your neck, slowly warming up your face.
A few seconds pass before Eric absent-mindedly starts to draw circles onto your quad, your brain hyper-focused onto the feeling of his forearm on your bare midriff. When he laughs at the way Izzyâs prank call is goingâ to which he earns a warning look from your roommate to keep quiet and not break the facadeâ you feel his body vibrating under you, making you realize that youâre the only one out of the two that is so affected by this simple gesture.
It leaves you feeling silly. It must be the alcohol, surelyâ but god,
Eric Sohn surely has hands that make hell seem cold.
Youâre woken up in the morning to the sound of your roommate screaming, yelling at you. Not only do you already have a massive headache from the hangover you surely accidentally threw yourself in, now you also feel like there is someone cutting parts of your brain off with a knife. (Which sounds contradicting, because you do know the brain canât be in pain. Why does it feel like that, then?)
âYou had the perfect opportunity to think of something that could make me and Sunwoo closer. You couldâve said anything! But no, you chose toââ
âWhy are you screaming?â you ask, voice hoarse and quiet, your throat scratchy as you utter the few words.
ââlay in Ericâs lap like a princess and do nothingââ she continues, making you wince. Itâs not that you donât remember the moment, noâ you do. The memory is almost painfully crystal clear in your brain, you just didnât really mean to think of it the first thing in the morning.
âIsabelle,â you grit your teeth and put your pillow over your eyes to shield them from the sunlight that is only making your headache worse, âIâm gonna need you to shut. the. fuck. upââ
âYouâre a terrible, terrible wingwoman, Iâll tell you that,â she accuses you.
Suddenly, the cause for her telling looks and annoyed huffs throughout the last night make total sense. Hell, youâre smarter than thisâ you shouldnât need explaining for such a simple task. It was your turn to dare your best friend to do something, and the object of her desire was right there. You will blame the shortcoming on your alcohol-infused brainâ in Izzyâs eyes, though, it doesnât really change the narrative.
âIâm sorry,â you mourn, âI wasnât thinking properly.â
âYeah, I could see that,â she grunts, tugging the pillow off your face. âAt this rate, me and Sunwoo are never gonna be a thing, and I hope you know itâs completely your fault.â
âHow could it be my fault?â you grunt, suddenly frustrated with your roommate. She is the one that isnât sending him obvious enough hints, and itâs your fault he isnât catching on? Why are you suddenly blamed for something that is completely out of your control? This is getting a bit ridiculous.
Wanting to sit up on your bed and fight against your roommate, but failing to do so before she escapes your roomâ sensing that you would throw the pillow onto her as soon as youâd get the chanceâ you sigh and reach for your phone sitting on your bedside table. There is a notification shining at the top of your screen, and when you unlock your phone and absent-mindedly click on the message, youâre taken off guard by the view in front of you.
Eric Sohn [1:21 AM]: hi, just checking in to see if you got home okay?
You read the message over once, then twice, before you decide to reply. Clearing your throat, as if you were going to record a voice message, you think of the most appropriate answer.Â
If youâre being honest, you donât really remember much about how you got home last nightâ all you know is that after three rounds of spin the bottle, you reluctantly climbed off Ericâs lap, to which him and Sunwoo escaped the party and trailed back to work with excuses of Ericâs sister killing them if they didnât show up soon. Youâre fairly certain that you and Izzy just took a cab home, but since you notice youâre still wearing yesterdayâs clothes, you assume you werenât really with yourself at that momentâ which is also the sole reason for you not replying to Ericâs message when you first got it.
You [11:10]: hello!! yes we did :) You [11:10]: sorry for replying so late, but as you could see last night i wasnt rlly checking my phone haha..
Surely this is good enough to play it off. Not suspicious at all! Eric Sohn will never know you were drunk off your face and hardly made it through the front door of your apartment. (Except he does know, and youâre also painfully aware.)
And all of this for what..? A bad week at your internship? Youâre one of the weak ones, for sure.
Switching apps and deciding to scroll through Instagram for a bit before you get up and face the dayâ which includes making lunch, because you didnât have any leftovers left in the fridgeâ your phone buzzes in your hands, showing you a new message.
Eric Sohn [11:15]: good to hear :) Eric Sohn [11:15]: are u feeling well?Â
God. You feel like throwing upâ surely the cause of the alcohol still in your system.
 Well, itâs not like he didnât know before. And youâre a grown woman! Thereâs no shame in a bit of a hangover. Youâre fairly certain he gets them all the timeâ you two are in university, after all.Â
Faking nonchalance, once again, you text back.
You [11:16]: yeah, just a massive headache thatâs all :// You [11:16]: im sure lunch will fix it lol
Eric Sohn [11:16]: speaking of⊠do u wanna get lunch w me? im sure eating out is a better option for u rn haha
Something inside of you panics at the message. You donât know what it is, but somehow, you always feel a bit awkward with Eric at first. Maybe itâs the fact that you always remember how you grew up together and then vanished out of each otherâs livesâ without each other even noticingâ or maybe itâs the fact that you always feel like you only embarrass yourself in front of him.Â
He seems to be casual about things, though. He doesnât make fun of you for anythingâ rather, he takes those moments as opportunities to get closer to you and maybe even build back the friendship you were forced into in childhood, but chose in your adulthood.Â
There is no reason to overthink his words or actions. Itâs Eric, after all.
Eric Sohn [11:17]: me and sunwoo that is, btw. u can bring your roommate if sheâs down!:D
Oh.Â
Well, at least you have a way to fix things with your butthurt friend. Clearing your throat before calling into the depths of the apartmentâ because Izzy left your door open, seemingly hinting that itâs time for you to get up and cook lunchâ you slowly start getting out of bed.
âIzzy, do you wanna get lunch with Sunwoo, Eric and I?â you ask, a grin slowly appearing on your face. She rewards you with a few seconds of silenceâ as if trying to tease youâ before she gives you the obvious answer.Â
âYeah.â
âThought so,â you chuckle, sending Eric back a text agreeing to his invitation.Â
After a few minutes spent showering and making yourself look presentable, you walk out of the building with your roommate by your side (thatâs currently smelling a bit like she just poured the whole perfume bottle over her), nearing the building you decided to meet in over text messages. Itâs a small Korean place just down the street, making you wonder if itâs the boyâs favorite, or if he just chose something that was nearby for you out of convenience.
When you open the door and walk into the place, youâre immediately hugged by the smell of delicious food making your stomach churn in hunger and the low music playing in the background. It doesnât take you long to notice the two boys already sitting at one of the tables, chatting to each other. Sunwoo is very passionate about something, waving his arms around, but the moment you two arrive at the table, their conversation dies down a bit, replaced by warm greetings.
âWow, you look terrible,â Sunwoo lets out when his eyes meet your figure. The comment makes you shrink in yourselfâ truth be told, you know you donât look your best right now, given the fact that your headache was still very much present and you didnât put any makeup onâ but still, it isnât the best experience to hear someone say it out loud.
âThanks,â you nod, watching as your roommate eagerly takes a seat next to Sunwoo, her body in respectful, yet close proximity to his, âI feel like it too.â
âAuchââ the said boy lets out, glaring at Eric sitting opposite of him. Youâre not really sure what happened, but you donât pay it much mind as you slowly settle yourself in the last spot possibleâ next to Eric in the little booth.
âDid you order already?â Izzy asks, clearly more joy and cheerfulness in her body than in yours. You donât really know how or why sheâs not currently dying of a hangover like you are, but something is telling you that maybe, just maybe, you were the only one that took the drinking too far last night. (You and Sim Jake, that is. The poor boy had to run to puke only a few minutes after the game of spin the bottle ended, and it was not a fun sight.)
âNo,â Eric shakes his head, âwe were waiting for you to get here. Wanna check the menu? We already skimmed through it.â
You nod at his preposition, taking the laminated paper into your hand. Youâre always indecisive when it comes to ordering foodâ never really knowing what to get, because everything is either foreign to you or too appealing, nothing in between, leaving you on the fence about what youâd like to eat at the given momentâ and the lengthy list of options in this place isnât really helping you.Â
A sigh escapes your throat at the sight. Truth be told, youâre not even gonna read the whole thingâ so you opt to look at Eric to your right with a begging expression on your face.
âDo you know what youâre getting?â you ask, watching him nod.
âRamen.â
âIs it good?â you inquire, having the boy nod at you casually, replying to your question.
âPretty good, yeah,â he answers. âAlso, Iâd argue that itâs the best for a hangover.â
âPerfect. Iâll have that, then,â you note, putting the menu back to its place on the other side of the table, not really wanting to think about it any longer.
When the waiter comes and asks for your order, you notice Eric taking charge and saying your choice as well, ridding you of the burden. Grateful for his initiative, you turn to smile at him in return, before you choose to rest your head in your hands on the table, still not relaxed enough after the long night you had.Â
Thereâs a soothing hand rubbing your back in just a few seconds, pressing comforting circles into the middle of your torso. You think you canât really blame Sunwoo for making fun of you todayâ you surely must look like absolute shit.
âDid you two go to the same party?â Sunwoo chuckles, pointing out the obvious difference in your composures. âHow come do you not look dead?â he addresses the question to Izzy, curious.
âI can handle my alcohol well,â she hums.
âThatâs a lie,â you grunt, eyes still glued to the wooden table, âshe just didnât drink much last night.â
âI think thatâs a part of handling my alcohol wellââ
âNo itâs not,â you squint at her, shaking your head. âAbstinence is not âhandling alcoholâ, you moron.â
âOkay, well, Iâm just saying thatâs the reason why you look like you have some sort of disease, while I look fresh and beautiful,â she sings in half-seriousness, half-irony, going as far as posing like a flower, offering the whole table her bright smile.
âI mean, you always do,â a low voice echoes around the restaurant, making you snap your head up to gaze at the boy opposite of you that is now refusing to meet anyoneâs eye. Ericâs hand freezes on your back, stilling, as a chuckle leaves his throat at his friendâs comment.
Interesting. Sunwooâs usually cocky demeanor changes as he blushes, scratching the back of his neck. The air gets a little tense as you allow yourself to look your roommate in the eye, a hint of surprise playing with her face. She looks taken aback, but pleased with herselfâ and you have to give her that. Her magic is finally working.
âSo, anywaysâŠâ Eric breaks the awkward silence, arm slipping off your back and resting on the table. The absence of the soothing circles on your clothed skin makes you miss it only a little bit, but you wonât really dwell on that any longer or mention it out loud.Â
The food comes just in time to diffuse the weird atmosphere, making all of you thank the waiter for the meal and get to eating. You canât say ramen is your favorite meal on the planet, but you must admit that the way they prepared it here really gets your taste buds on Cloud 9. Youâre enjoying every bit of it, salvaging the salty taste and chewing on the noodles, looking like a person thatâs been starved for five days with the way youâre just inhaling the food like itâs oxygen.
âFeels nice to finally eat somewhere else than at work,â Sunwoo grunts in pleasure, throwing his head back and letting his eyes close, fully enjoying the moment.Â
Eric nods in agreement, having you furrow your brows at them. âYou must work a lot.â
âYeah,â the boy next to you nods, âI do it to help my dad, but the more I work, the more miserable and absolutely boring it gets.â
âI would imagine it to be kind of fun, I dunno,â you hum sheepishly, noticing the boys eyeing you with a deadpan expression on their faces.
âI mean, everythingâs better than a corporate job, in my opinion,â Eric throws a jab at you, a smirk playing with his lips. Heâs not wrong.
âDonât even remind meâŠâ
âStill no progress on that thing?â he asks, genuine interest lacing his tone.
Shaking your head, you sigh. âI mean, I did a bit of market research, but nothing to show my boss, thatâs for sure. Itâs just been rotting my brain for weeks and I feel like Iâm frozen with stress that I canât actually pick it up, yâknow?â
Eric nods in acknowledgement, swallowing the last bits of food in his mouth. âMaybe you just need to think about it less.â
âYeah,â Izzy joins, âtake off some steam. Maybe you just need a little break from it.â
âBut if I take a break from it, I might never actually start itââ
âThatâs ridiculous,â she cuts you off. âYou know you work well under pressure.â You sigh at her comment, shaking your head in disapproval. Procrastination isnât really your favorite thing under the sun, but itâs something you canât really control during most projects you pick up. âWhat do we say we all hang out together when youâre free? To chill, do something fun, get your heads off workâŠ?âÂ
You look around the table with questioning eyes. Youâre not really sure if you crawled across the bridge to the friendship side yet, or if Izzyâs efforts are what is going to do just that. Not really knowing where you stand with the boysâ because they did invite you to lunch, but you also hadnât spoken in a long time before thatâ you donât push them for an answer. Youâre going to go along with whatever they choose.
âIâm down,â Sunwoo nods, âI bet that if we tell Lisa in advance, she can do the deliveries. Thereâs a new Deadpool movie coming out next week, wanna go see that?â
Youâre not really a fan of Marvel movies nor have you seen the first two parts of the series. The same could be said about Izzy, but she grasps at the invitation like a thirsty woman seeing water after 20 days spent on a desert, nodding eagerly at Sunwoo. Itâs almost laughable how easily she agrees to everything the boy has to say.Â
You guess you canât really blame her, thoughâ he is giving her subtle signs of reciprocation with todayâs compliment, isnât he?
You think about it for a while. Looking to your right, facing Eric, you lock eyes with him, as he was already gazing at you and expecting your answer. The boy shrugs at the eye contact, seemingly down to the offer.Â
You guess seeing a movie with them isnât such a bad idea, right?
âYeah, okay,â you say, âwhat day is that?â
Foolish. Thatâs what you are.
Foolish for thinking you could get everything done in time and actually enjoy your time with your friends. Foolish for thinking you could have a day off when you donât have to think of all the responsibilities that adult life is throwing at youâ because as you realize exactly one day before youâre supposed to see the new Deadpool movie in the cinema with Izzy, Sunwoo and Eric, after a discussion with your boss about how he needs some spreadsheets done before the next day, you realize donât have enough time in your schedule for both.
Frustration, anger and also a bit of sadness fills your bones as you announce to your friendsâ in person to Izzy and over a text to Ericâ that you probably wonât make it. The boy tells you that if you do end up being able to come after all, you should, which makes you only feel worse at the realization that you are now missing out on what couldâve been a chill afternoon.
The frustration only grows in you when you decide to do your work in the library the next day, not even walking back to your apartment after classâ because you realize you not only donât enjoy any minute of your internship, but you also feel like a failure after not being able to finish any simple task with no bigger issues.
After sending one last message to your friends about how youâre stuck in the library for the time being, you try to drown yourself in workâ while simultaneously trying to ignore the clock in the corner of your screen telling you the exact minutes youâve spent missing out on the plans.
You donât really know how much time passes before a hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump violently in your seat. Your heart starts beating a thousand miles an hour as you turn your head to make out who is the cause of your heart attack, preparing yourself for the screaming match youâre very well mentally ready for.
Up until⊠you notice whoâs standing behind you, offering you a gentle smile.
âSorry. Did I scare you?â he asks, laughing softly at your shaken composure.
âI almost died, dude!â you scold him, shaking your head at the boy. Something inside of you lights up at the idea of a distraction from your workload, your heart squeezing on itself when you scan your visitor overâ from the bottom of his feet cladded in simple Nike pandas to the top of his head covered not only by a beanie, but also the hood of his gray sweater.
âSorry,â he once again apologizes, eyes glimmering in amusement.
âWhat are you even doing here?â you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion and checking the time on your laptop. âThe movie starts in a few minutes!â
Out of all the people on the whole entire planet, Eric Sohn is the last person youâd expect to appear in the library exactly at this moment. The sheer presence of him right in front of you makes you blink a few times in hopes of figuring out if his existence is not a fata morgana, watching as the boy only shrugs at you in nonchalance.
âAh, thatâŠâ he hums. âI actually brought you a treat, since you said you will be stuck in the library the whole day,â he says, offering you a bag containing something sweet-smelling.
Once you take a better look at what heâs holding in front of you, your stomach churns and your tastebuds yearn for the sugary dough he must have gotten in the bakery at the corner of the campus on his way hereâ pink glazing and colorful sprinkles, almost bringing tears into your eyes in appreciation. âWhat? Why?â you ask. âYou didnât have toâŠâ
âI figured there was no use going to the cinema if youâre not going,â he explainsâ his words making a nervous little bug fly around your stomach. âSince Iâm sure Sunwoo and Izzy wanted to go alone anyways, I didnât wanna be a third-wheel.âÂ
Oh. Right. You forgot about that part.
âI donât think itâs a good idea to leave them alone together, to be honest,â you say, making Eric chuckle at your comment.
âThis might either be the best, or the worst thing on the whole entire planet.â
âAgreed,â you nod.
Eric sends you a prolonged look in which you realize you havenât accepted his offering yet, making you reach for the bag containing the donut and placing it onto the table, right next to your laptop. âBut really, thank you,â you nod, âyou didnât have to. Iâm sure you have other things you could be doingâŠâ
âI wanted to make your stay in the library more pleasant,â Eric says, shrugging. His figure is still towering over youâ as heâs standing and youâre sitting downâ something about the fact making you wish he would take a seat next to you and maybe even stay for a minute. âI imagine itâs gonna be a long day for youâŠâ
âYeah,â you sigh. âAll thanks to my stupid internship and my stupid boss and this stupid assignmentâŠâ you ramble, watching as Ericâs lips turn into a soft smile. What heâs smiling at, youâre not really sureâ the topic of the conversation is already miserable enough for you without actually doing any of the things youâre complaining aboutâ but you drop it as the boy crouches next to you, putting his arm around your chair.
âWhat do you need to do?â he asks, interested.
âI just need to finish this spreadsheet,â you hum, âwhich isnât that hard, itâs just a lot of tedious work that no one wants to do, so of course it falls on the intern.â
âThatâs the beauty of an internship,â Eric jokes.
âDo you even intern?â
âNo,â he laughs, shaking his head. âBut Iâd like to see what itâs like. Want help with that? I can read the numbers out for you so you donât get lost in all those rows and columns,â he suggests, pointing to the amount of reports waiting at your desk, waiting to be digitized.
âOh, itâs okay,â you sheepishly say, although touched with the offer. Heâs probably only saying it to be niceâ but thatâs still enough for appreciation to grow in your chest. âYou donât have to stay and do boring things with me just because we were supposed to hang out today. Actually, you should hurry so you can get to the cinema on timeââ
In your peripheral vision, you watch as the boy stands up from his crouched position only to pull out a chair from one of the empty seats, placing it next to yours so he has a view of your laptop. Before you get a chance to protest any longer, heâs sat in the seat with one of his legs popped up and resting on the bottom construction of your chair, hands reaching for the papers that you could physically drown in sprawled all over your desk.Â
âDonât be silly. Iâd rather do anything else than to watch Sunwoo embarrassingly try to flirt with your friend,â he chuckles. âSo, which numbers do you need?â
âEric, reallyââ
âThese ones?â he persists, not even giving you a chance to protest any longer.Â
Eyes meetingâ his big and honest, a warm pool of honeyâ yours a little tired, but still filled with tender appreciation, he waits for you to answer and explain how he can help you. He patiently awaits your instructions, wanting to make your life a bit easierâ and something about that makes your heart leap in your chest.
You guess youâd say you and Eric are friends now. Yeah, you definitely are.
âLook, the sooner youâre done, the sooner you can get out of here and get another donut with me on your way home. Because trust me, I thought I could resist, but the more I look at the one I brought you, the more I kinda want one for myselfâŠâ
Laughing, you shake your head at his boyish antics. He looks so casual right nowâ like someone cut out of your everyday life, like someone youâve known for years and are destined to know forever.Â
You show him which row he should read out loud for you. You share the donut with him. It takes a bit longer than you expected and the donut place is closed when he walks with you home, but he assures you itâs okayâ you can get one another time.
âFive iced americanos, two lattes, one iced teaâ do you want anything?â Jihoon turns to you with raised eyebrows, getting a look of your sulking face.
âNo,â you bite back, anger getting the worst out of you.Â
âOkay, so weâll also add another americano and a flat white, please,â your coworker slash friend turns back towards the barista, smiling at him and paying with the corporate card.
After the two of you move into the line waiting for drinks, you continue on with your little tangent.Â
âSo they think they can make me do all the dirty work, leave me with no time to do anything and announce tasks at the last second, only to be bitchy and donât even say thank you when I do everything they tell me to?â you snap, scowling at Jihoon. âAnd then they decide that oh, maybe Iâm not good enough to do all those fucking spreadsheets for them, so I am demoted to a coffee runner?!â you yell out, having the heads of the rest of the customers turn to you with annoyed and concerned looks on their faces.
âOkay, so we are going to calm downââÂ
âI donât wanna calm down!â
Jihoon laughs at your little outburstâ which only makes you more frustratedâ before he puts a finger against your lips to silent you, an amused expression taking over his face. âDonât scream when we are inside, at least.â
After his finger leaves your lips, you are left staring at him with a sharp lookâ like a child that is mad because it didnât get a new toy it liked in the store. You acknowledge that you might be acting a bit overly-dramatic at the moment, but you also still think your feelings and thoughts are justified.Â
You hate the corporate lifestyle. You despise how you have to be a stuck-up to climb it, and how hard work never truly gets you anywhere if you donât have connections.
Which is why Liu Yangyang is currently helping your boss with all major tasks, getting the experience he truly needs for his degree, while you and Jihoon were sent to get coffee for the whole office. Amazing, isnât it? The way you can feel so looked down upon, even though youâre aware this is the place youâre supposed to be in, this is how youâre supposed to be treated.
Youâre just an intern, nothing else. But sometimes, the uneven weight of responsibilities you get at work makes you stressed and nervous that one day, youâll have too much on your shoulders to bear while all the other time, you arenât even worthy of a normal task.
âI hope each and every one of them burns their tongue on that fucking coffee,â you grunt, making Jihoon only laugh harder.
âAt least half of them ordered iced americanos, babe.â
A sigh escapes your throat at that. âOkay, so I hope they all spill the drink onto them,â you refute, making Jihoon grin.
âYouâre so petty,â he points out as he stands close to you, suddenly deciding to use you as his own personal armrest. âBesides, I think you should appreciate that you donât have to do a lot today, donât you think? Itâs nice to get a breather. I know I wouldnât wanna be in Yangyangâs shoes right now.â
âI guess so,â you sigh, looking up to meet the tall boyâs eyes. âBut it makes me feel like they donât think weâre good enough for anything else.â
âAnd if thatâs my crime, then so be it,â he playfully shrugs. âAt least Iâll have the experience on my CV and I can graduate.â
âIâd love to have your mindset,â you muse.
âItâs quite easy, actually,â he nods. âYou should get it into that pretty brain of yours,â he says as one of his fingers points to the side of your skull, making you scrunch your nose at him and try to avert the contact.Â
Jihoon is persistent, though, as he suddenly makes it his quest to ruffle your hair to tease you and make it all disheveled. The two of you get into a play-fight of some sort, consisting of you trying to wrestle the boy off and him trying to make your life a living hell in any way he can, when he abruptly stops and raises his eyebrows at someone behind you, offering them a wave.
âYo, dude! Hi!â he greets, making you turn your head to see who he is addressing.
There, standing just a few meters in front of you in the line, is Eric Sohn wearing cargo pants and a loose shirt, earphones hanging around the base of his neck. After being greeted by your friend, he moves closer to the two of you, smiling.
âHi!â he says, paying both of you an up-and-down scan. âWhatâs up?â
âNothing much,â Jihoon replies for the both of you, settling to his previous position of resting half his body-weight against your shoulder. Youâve grown used to his natureâ playful and friendly, much like an older brother would actâ so you donât really mind the casual touch and teasing from him. âWe were sent here to get coffee for the whole building, so weâre just doing that while Y/N here complains about everythingââ
âI donât complain about everything, just the systematic oppression of interns in the workplaceââ
âYeah, whatever you say,â Jihoon cuts you off, snickering. âWhat about you?â
Eric watches the two of you bickering with furrowed brows before he clears his throat, shrugging. âOn my way to class,â he says, âIâm late already, so I figured a few more minutes while I get my coffee wonât hurt me in the long run.â
âVery responsible of you,â you joke, watching as the boy in front of you laughs, paying you a short look.
âLook, I donât have any big responsibilities like the two of you do, soâŠâ
âY/N, on the contrary, doesnât think getting coffee for the corporate people is enough of a responsibility,â Jihoon chimes in, making Ericâs eyes shift towards the taller boy, sending him a look slightly different to the one he gives you.
âShe just doesnât really know how to chill out,â Eric nods.Â
âHello?â you snicker. âIâm literally right here.â
The shorter one looks at you with glimmering eyes, shrugging. âItâs something you have to hear,â he notes. âTruth hurts, but itâs better than lying to yourself.â
Just after that, an order is called that makes Ericâs attention perk up, turning around to the barista. âI think thatâs me,â he says, taking a step back towards the counter to retrieve his coffee. âI better get going, but it was nice seeing you two,â he nods.
âUs twoâŠâ Jihoon whispers next to you, making you look at him with furrowed brows, confused.
âIt was nice seeing you too!â you nod instead, smiling.
âIâll see you around!â Eric says. Before he completely disappears to the top of the line and out of the coffee shop, he turns to you one more time. âOh and Y/N, we should hang out again sometime⊠Text me?â
âOh, sure,â you agree, your stomach fueled with a strange kind of sensation at his words. You know you shouldâve had breakfast in the morningâ surely itâs just you being hungry. âIâll- Iâll text you.â
Only after Jihoon waves at him, finally ridding you off the burden of being his personal armrest, do you realize how hot you feel in your cheeks and how youâve spent the last couple of seconds carefully, intensively watching Eric get his coffee and step out of the building. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, the atmosphere suddenly too quiet to the one there was between the two of you before Eric Sohn arrived, you feel Jihoon elbow you in your side.
âSo,â he starts, already hinting that this is going to be a difficult conversation, âwhatâs up with you and Sohn?â
âHm?â you snap your head around to face him, almost breaking your neck with the force. âWhat do you mean, whatâs up with me and Eric? Thereâs nothing up between the two of us.â
âSure⊠and he wasnât staring at me like he wanted to personally kill me with his own two hands just now, correct?â he teases, making you stop in your tracks.
Was Eric looking at him like that? You didnât even notice.
âCorrect,â you agree. âI donât really think he wasâŠâ
âAnd my name is not Jihoonââ
âStop being so difficult to talk to all the time, dear godââ
âOkay, miss âI find Eric Sohn to be the hottest one in the worldâââ
âWhen have I ever said that?!â you call out again, suddenly feeling a little too hot in your cheeks, ears, and the back of your neck. Whatâs up with this visceral reaction? You swear you were nonchalant about these things!
âOh, sorry, let me correct myself. It was the hottest one in the room, actually, but I think that speaks for itself, since Lee Heeseung himself was presentââ
âAre you jealous, or something?â you choose to counter attack, leaving Jihoon to laugh at you in amusement.
âAs if,â he shakes his head at you. âI just think itâs cute how whenever I see you two interact, he acts like a lost puppy following you and youâre too oblivious to do anything about it.â
âNo, he doesnât,â you furrow your brows at him, the words not even fully registering in your brain. What does he even mean by all of this? You and Eric are friendsâ thatâs all there is to it.
âSure⊠stay being like that and end up a bitchless loser forever, then,â he shrugs. Youâd react more to his pointless argumentsâ because letâs be real, he is just making all of this up to stir some dramaâ but your awfully long order is called right in the moment you open your mouth to come up with a clever comeback, and so you choose to drop the topic, because itâs quite meaningless in your eyes anyway.
Walking back with two cup holders in your hands, fulfilling your one and only task of the day, you turn to Jihoon with a teasing grin. âWait, did you just call Lee Heeseung sexy?â
âIt was purely objectiveââ
âI really hate this, yâknow?â you mutter as you stand in front of the gates of the amusement park, your cheerful roommate standing by your side bouncing on her feet as she waits in excitement.
âShut up,â she says, a smile never leaving her face despite your gloomy expression, âdonât ruin this for me.â
âWell, itâs either you or me that is going to have their day ruined, and I think that judging by the fact that Iâm already here, we know which one is going to turn true,â you say as you aimlessly look around, watching people going in and out of the premises of the park, some with goofy headbands on, some holding balloonsâ all of them sickly in love.
âItâs not like I invited you to a funeral, yâknow,â Izzy grunts, âyou could just act happy for me. It wouldnât hurt you, yâknowââ
âI would act happy for you if you didnât feel the need to drag me to your dates with youââ
âStop being such a party popper, dude. Youâre going to have fun if you just allow yourself to,â she rolls her eyes at you. Yeah, she might be right about some parts of her argumentâ you got free tickets to the amusement park, which you love, just for the recordâ and you also have a day off from your internship and classes, which makes any day basically the best day on earth for you, but there is one thing about this whole situation that is making you doubt it just the tiniest bit.
That being the fact that youâre tagging along to a date. And youâre not alone in itâ which automatically makes this whole thing seem a little too similar to a double date.
âI just donât want him to think I see this as aââ
Your argument is quickly shut off as your roommate physically squeals into your ear before running off, feet automatically taking her to her sweetheart. Sunwoo is quick to catch her in his arms when she jumps into his hold, excited to see him despite hanging out with him two days ago, and youâre left walking slowly to the two approaching figures alone.
The moment you see Eric Sohn wearing tan cargo pants and a red windbreaker over his figure, your throat goes dry. His eyes light up a bit when they land on you, which makes the reality of not being able to run away anymore settle deep inside of your bones, and suddenly, you feel strangely nervous in his vicinity.Â
This hasnât happened to you yet around himâ if you donât count all the moments where you embarrassed yourself in front of him, feeling painfully awkward. However, the fact that this whole situation is too similar to a double date is making you feel slightly weak in your knees simply because of the fact that you donât want Eric to think you want this to be a double date. You only went because Izzy promised to wash the dishes for you for two weeks if you did, and thatâs an offer nobody should turn down, you think.
The idea of Eric Sohn thinking you want to go on a double date with him makes you feel agonizingly embarrassed. You two are just friendsâ nothing more, nothing lessâ and you wouldnât want him to get the wrong idea. You would never think of yourself as someone Eric would invite over for a date in the first place anywayâ you donât want him to have a feeling that you suddenly have high thoughts about yourself.
âY/N! Hi!â Your thoughts are quickly cut off when you hear the boy himself greet you cheerfully, walking up to you to envelope you in a short hug.Â
His arms sneak around you only for a moment, but you feel yourself automatically reciprocating the gesture before it even has a chance to register in your brain. You donât really know when the two of you passed to the level of friendship where you greet each other with a hugâ maybe the few text messages you shared since you last saw him in the coffee shop might have done the workâ but you try to not question it when he pulls away, leaving you awkwardly standing around and watching Sunwoo and your roommate gaze romantically into each otherâs eyes.
âTodayâs gonna be tough,â Eric notes.
Chuckling at his words, knowing heâs referring to the honeymoon stage your friends have somehow ended up inâ because you still canât believe Izzy managed to date the boy after her embarrassing attemptsâ you just shake your head and move towards the entrance of the amusement park, not really wanting to pay any more attention to the couple than you have to.
âIt is,â you agree, âI wouldnât have agreed to go for this exact reason, but the idea of rides persuaded me,â you hum.
âI only went because this was the only way I could get a day off at work,â Eric mutters, âmy stupid sister insisted I come with Sunwoo or else she wouldnât cover my shift.â
âThatâs strange,â you chuckle, furrowing your eyebrows at him. âWhy would she care?â
âI dunno,â he shrugs, âsaid something about âenjoying my youthâ, or something,â he grins. âI donât really even like amusement parks, if Iâm being honest.â
âYou donât?â you gasp, shaking your head at the boy. âDamn. I would think youâre an adrenaline junkie, if Iâm being honest.â
âI am!â he agrees, nodding. âThe other day, though, I saw a Tiktok about a ride breaking down somewhere in Japan, and that was the same day Sunwoo invited me here, so I think it mightâve been a sign from the universe to not go on any of these rides, or else I will die.â
Laughing at his words, shaking your head, you lightly slap his arm at the comment. âDonât say that,â you tell him, âyouâre just being a scaredy cat, admit it.â
âNoâŠâ he suspiciously shakes his head, very obviously lying.
âYeah, rightâŠâ you snicker. âI mean, itâs okay, dude. I wonât laugh.â
âYouâre already laughing, though?â Eric points out, an accusing finger in your face. His actions make you burst into even bigger giggles, eyes meeting his. When your gaze lands onto his faceâ the upper half shielded by the shade casted off his cap, yet still having his eyes crinkled up and cheeks full as he grins at you wide and warm in the sunlightâ your stomach does that weird thing again, completely ruining the moment.
Clearing your throat, trying to keep your composure, you turn your head to search for Izzy and Sunwoo. The moment you catch them in makes your eyes go big and a grunt leave your throat involuntarilyâ the PDA making you even sicker to your stomach. While Sunwoo is standing in front of your roommate, his arms securely around her middle, she is gazing up into his eyes with a pout decorating her lips. The boy holds her cheeks in his hands for a brief moment before he leans in and gives her a short kiss that makes the girl stand up on her tippy toes, chasing for another one.
âOh wow,â you let out, making Eric sigh next to you at the sight.
âNow thatâsâŠâ
âYeah,â you nod while you turn back forward, trying your hardest to not look at the two of them any longer than you physically have to. âI knew they would be like that if they started dating. Itâs like my worst nightmares came true.â
âSunwoo canât stop talking about her either. Iâm starting to think I will know more about your roommate than you do, at this rate.â
âYou might,â you agree, laughing to yourself. âWith how many nights sheâs spent at his place, Iâm starting to think sheâs going to move out soon.â
âWell, thatâs only good for you then, no?âÂ
âYeah,â you agree, joking. âThe only reason why I still keep her around is to pay half the rent, if Iâm being honest,â you chuckle, having the boy shake his head at your playful antics.
The two of you move forwards slowly while looking around the place, trying to see what you should do. The sun is strangely aggressive today, making it hard for you to see as you squint in the brightnessâ since the amusement park doesnât really provide you with much shadeâ only making you a bit more frustrated with your choice of plans today.
âShould we get some drinks first?â Eric asks, pointing towards a stand that sells coffee, milkshakes and other beverages.
The line is long, but you donât really see a reason not to wait. You have the whole day in front of you, after all, and since it seems to you that Sunwoo and Izzy have taken it upon themselves to ignore you two completely, acting like this was their own date, you choose to stick to whatever Eric wants to do.Â
As you move to stand next to himâ while also moving out of someoneâs wayâ the back of your hand comes in contact with the boyâs next to you, having a slight wave of electricity run through your spine as you clear your throat and move away from him, wishing he didnât notice. You take it upon yourself to look around to see what your next choice of plan should be.
After ignoring many couples walking aroundâ since it seems that you chose a day when no other visitors were around, just teenagers holding hands and kissing in front of the rides (much like your friends are doing right now)â you opt to point your eyes at the horizon, looking at the tall constructions and rides. You have to shield your eyes from the sun with your hand to really see them, but the sight of them excites you a bit, so you guess itâs worth it. Squinting at the Pirate ride or the big rollercoaster twisting and turning like a caterpillar in the distance, you make a mental note of all the attractions you want to visit today.
Slowly moving to the top of the line to get coffee with Eric, you continue gazing behind him, blissfully unaware that heâs been watching you the whole time, noticing your little struggle.Â
âAfter we get the coffee, I wanna go on that roller coaster there,â you hum, âand Iâm bringing you with me, because Sunwoo and Izzyââ
Your words get caught in your throat as the man suddenly moves the hand youâve been resting against your eyebrows to shield your eyes from the sunlight down, replacing it by taking his cap off and making you wear it. Your heart jumps at the action, eyes finally relaxing now that theyâre in shade, making you gulp and stare at Eric.
âYou donât have toââ
âI have my sunglasses with me, so itâs fine,â he says, tugging the peak further down your head in a teasing way, a smile adorning his face.
You forgot what you were even saying in the first placeâ the idea of Ericâs hat on your head making your brain overheat a little with the added fabric on top of your hair. Itâs the same cap you see on him oftenâ his favorite one, you thinkâ and your stupid, silly brian is starting to make connotations around the action that youâre sure are not correct.
You canât say youâre not happy about wearing it, though. It does help your eyes.
âYou were saying?â he asks, making you look back at him with big eyes, trying to think of what you were talking about before.
âOh,â you hum, while also simultaneously reaching to fix his hairâ since he hasnât bothered to after taking off his hat for youâ not even thinking about your actions as you run your fingers through the honey strands, âI was just saying youâre gonna have to go on some rides with me, because the lovebirds are ignoring us and I am not going alone,â you repeat.
When youâre done moving the blonde locks to their supposed place, eyes drifting back to Ericâsâ now big and watching your every move, making you falter a little under his gaze and heat creep onto your cheeksâ itâs his turn to clear his throat, shrugging.
âYouâll have to hold my hand when I get scared, though,â he says. The casualty of his tone shocks you, having you watch as the boy averts his gaze from you and presses his lips together into a thin line, not even paying a second thought to the implications of his words.
You pay them a second thought, though.
You keep repeating the words in your brain over and over, fingertips buzzing at the preposition, hands sweating at the mental image. Do you mind the thought of it?
Well, no. You donât.
Not a big deal, after allâŠ
âWhat did you want again? Flat white?â he asks, completely ignoring the previous conversation. You didnât even realize you got to the top of the line, too deep in your thoughts, and before you have a chance to take out your wallet to pay for your drink (or maybe even Ericâs, since he paid the last time), he is holding the cup up to you already.
As you take it from him, your fingers touch again. It makes a warm pool of honey glisten in the pit of your stomach, foolishness creeping up your bones.
The boy takes it upon himself to shock you even further as he swings an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to him. âLetâs go back to the lovebirds before they forget about our existence completely.â
You choose to ignore the fact that you forgot about their existence yourself.
When you get on the ride a few minutes later, Eric holds onto your hand. Your heart beats a thousand miles an hour, but you will write it off to the adrenalineâ you do, however, foolishly wish he was scared more often.Â
Turns out having Park Jihoon as your coworker isnât as bad as it seems. Sure, he is good at making the atmosphere lighter in the office and also amazing at gossip in the workplace, but he is also surprisingly very good at his jobâ and with the date of your presentation fastly approaching, you had to get all the help you needed.Â
Which is why you made the boy sit with you in the park as you went over it again and again, showing him your laptop and rehearsing your speech, taking notes of every little thing Jihoon said you should fix or add into the whole thing. You genuinely appreciate what heâs doing for you, which is why you also remind yourself to get him something after the internship is doneâ but after at least two hours of working on your laptop with him, he gets tired and his attention span seems to get shorter and shorterâ and you donât really blame him.Â
Actually, you welcome the distractions he offers with open hands. Even more so, you add on to them and fuel them with more conversation, the laptop opened on your thighs long forgotten as you search through your gallery and show the phone screen to your friend, talking about the cute pillows you found at the store last week.
âSee? Theyâre like⊠sea foam green, but Izzy says they wouldnât go with our couch,â you hum, furrowing your brows at him, trying to see a different opinion on your newest choice of furniture for the already overcrowded flat.
âWhat color is your couch again?â he asks as you keep swiping, showing him all the angles of the pillows.
âBrown.â
âOh, hell no,â Jihoon shakes his head, âthatâs a Perry the platypus type of combo, Iâm with Izzy on this oneâ oop, that doesnât look like the pillows anymoreââ
Swiftly turning the phone towards you again, worried of what picture you accidentally revealed to him (while you donât have any nudes on your phone, youâre sure any selfie would be just as much embarrassing), youâre left with heat rising to your cheeks and shame drowning your system.Â
âWell, anyways, so the pillowsââ
âWeâre not talking about the pillows anymore, girlââ
âWe areââ
âNo,â he keeps interrupting you, making you grunt and sigh as you rest your head against the trunk of the tree behind you, banging it against it in frustration.
âShut up,â you mutter. The thing is, you know you wonât escape the teasing nowâ because Park Jihoon watching you swipe through your gallery to a high-angle selfie of Eric Sohn in his work uniform, pouting, is surely a very incriminating image. âWe text on Whatsapp and he sent the pic, so it automatically savedââ
âAnd you just never deleted it, naturally,â Jihoon hums with a shit-eating grin on his face.Â
âI forgotââ
âYou just didnât want toââ
âOh shut the fuck up,â you sigh again, locking your phone and throwing it into the grass.Â
You and Eric have grown close since the day you spent together in the amusement park. So much to the point where you get lunch together sometimes and he sends you selfies when heâs bored at work, it seems. You donât mind the subtle shiftâ hell, you welcome it with open armsâ you just wish Park Jihoon (and Izzy, at this point) would stop teasing you about something that was not even vaguely true.
There is nothing going on between you and Eric Sohn.
And nothing ever will beâ not a chance.
âI think the denial is being a little embarrassing now,â Jihoon chirps, making you swat his shoulder. You are not in denialâ there is nothing to deny.
âYou are being a little embarrassing.â
âYou know Iâm right,â Jihoon shrugs, grinning. Does he not have enough drama in his own life to stick his nose into yours? Not that there is any drama between you and Ericâ but you bet Park Jihoon would love to create some.
âYouâre never right.â
âSure,â Jihoon hums. âIâll mention this on your wedding speechââ
âIâll kill you before I get married,â you grunt.
âBut you didnât deny the identity of the groomââ
Launching at the boy again, a threatening fist almost landing to his cheek, you watch as he wrestles you away with a loud laugh resonating through the space. Something about how lightly he takes the situation makes your stomach churn in an unknown emotionâ you really donât see why everyone thinks there should be something going on between you and your childhood friend.
âLook, all Iâm saying is that if you want this to be a thing, maybe you should finally make a move, since the guy seems to be dull as fuckââ
Interrupting, never letting him finish a sentence when it comes to this topic, you try to finally prove your point. âI donât want this to be a thing. I donât even know what youâre talkingââ
âI should go before Iâm killed,â Jihoon suddenly hurries out, making you furrow your brows at him.
âWhat?â
âSee you on Monday!â the tall male waves, scattering to his feet. He doesnât give you much explanation as he runs off to the other side of the campus, making you watch him with confused eyes. Where has he gone so quickly? He doesnât want to be killed?Â
By whom? Should you be afraid? Should you run as well?
Somebody clears his throat next to you, making you jump as you turn your head to see who is disrupting your peace. The moment your eyes meet the intruder, Jihoonâs comment finally settles inâ god, youâll kill him when you see him again.
âEric! What are you doing here?â you ask, watching as the boy shrugs, taking a seat next to you on the grass.
âJust got off work,â he says, âand you said youâll be here, so I thought Iâd come and say hi,â he hums, yawning and stretching his arms above his head.
The sentiment makes you mentally cooâ the emotion going as far as reaching your face in a form of a gentle poutâ as you dwell deeper over his words. You didnât think that complaining about how you have to do work would make Eric think of visiting you after finishing his own, but something about it makes you all warm from the inside.
âYou didnât have to,â you hum. âYou seem tired.â
A gentle smile is sent your way, so illuminizing it makes you look away. âI know, but I wanted to,â he says, âI also brought you leftovers, if you want some. Itâs almost dinner time.â
An involuntary gasp leaves your throat as you watch the male take out an aluminum wrap from his backpack and offer it to you alongside his bright grin. You waste no time in taking the pizza slices into your hand and carefully unwrapping them, allured by the smell.
âWhy did Jihoon run so fast, by the way?â Eric asks, laughing.
âOh, he said he was late for somethingâŠâ you hum. (Youâre not even convinced of your own excuse. You donât know how Eric doesnât see right through your lies.)
âAh,â the boy nods in acknowledgement, scooping closer to you so his back is now resting against the tree, his eyes gluing themselves onto your laptop screen. His piney smell fills your nose, making your stomach feel like itâs on water, before his soft, tired voice lands into your ear. âDid you make a lot of progress?â
âMhm,â you nod, clicking through the slides and showing him. The boy makes an acknowledging sound after each new information you tell himâ something that makes you find him immensely endearingâ as you simultaneously reach for the pizza and mindlessly offer the slice youâve already bitten into to him, watching as his straight teeth chew down into the dough, sharing one piece with you.
âAre you done for the day? Iâll walk you home,â he says, tiredness completely seeping through his tone now. You can tell he needs sleepâ which makes you feel slightly bad about making him take a detour just to meet you.
âAlmost,â you hum apologetically, closing your laptop. âI just need to read a few more articles Jihoon recommended for me and then I should be done,â you say, reaching for your iPad as you put your computer away into your bag.Â
âOkay,â he nods.
âYou can go home, Eric,â you say, âyou donât have to stay for me.â
âNo, itâs fine,â he shakes his head, smiling at you.Â
Watching him, eyes meeting for a heartbeat, you see that he wonât budge no matter how harshly youâd tell him to goâ so you figure that quickly getting through the articles and going home is your safest bet in this situation. Tapping on the screen and finding the email Jihoon forwarded to you, you open the first link in the message, subconsciously registering as the boy next to you gets comfortable sitting in the grass with you.
You only get through half of the (lengthy) article before you see Ericâs head lolling forwards, sleep taking over him. The motion wakes him, but not for long as he just canât keep his eyes open anymoreâ the combination of a long shift, classes in the morning and finishing up his assignments late in the night getting the worst out of him and making you feel immensely bad for the boy. Not focused on the words in the article anymore, you watch as your friend scooches further down in the grass, acting on instinct as his head suddenly rests against your shoulder, soft hair tickling the side of your neck.Â
Heart leaping in your chest and whole body freezingâ begging the universe to not make the boy wake up from his half-asleep state right nowâ you try your hardest to pay attention to the business tactics described in the article youâve been reading for the last couple of minutes. It seems to be the hardest task youâve ever set your mind on, though, as you notice the screen of your tablet getting dark, mirroring Ericâs relaxed face.
His neck is craned and his eyes are closed shut, making you turn your head to watch the sight first-hand, mentally counting all the eyelashes kissing his cheekbones and his puffed-out lips. Something about his pose doesnât seem the tiniest bit comfortable, thoughâ although it makes a strange wave of satisfaction run through your veinsâ and so, like any other decent person, you gently cradle your fingers through his hair, waking him up.
âHmm?âÂ
âYour neck is gonna be sore,â you quietly say as you put your arm around his shoulder, âjust lay down, yeah?â you say, doing your best at adjusting his position.
The male lets you navigate him with half-lidded eyes as you make him scooch even further down into the grass before you pull his upper body towards your lower half, essentially making the boy lay his head into your lap. Eric looks up at you from his new position for just a few seconds, eye contact reminding you of a small, shy puppy you just brought home from the road, making you smile softly and treat him as one when you instinctively reach out and pet his head, running your fingers through his soft strands and gently scratching his scalp.
After a few seconds, the male closes his eyes again, seemingly drifting off into the dreamland. Your actions soothe him and simultaneously bring you into some sort of trance you canât bring yourself out ofâ eyes glued to his face, studying it.
The angle of his nose and the slope of his upper lip is much more enjoyable to study and memorize than the sales statistics of your jobâs concurrency. You find his long eyelashes to be nothing far from angelic, his light hair like a crown of gold under your touch. Everything about him is soft and gentle in this stateâ with the golden hour shining down onto his features, making his skin glisten like honeyâ the view so pretty youâd like to take a picture to remember it forever.
Your head spins and your stomach does that weird thing again. This is not the first time you are acknowledging Ericâs attractivenessâ just the first time you are appreciating his beauty, his prettiness to the point where you are enchanted by it, not able to tear your attention away. You canât deny the fact that it affects you anymore.
You canât deny the fact you feel around him lately. It makes you feel strange and embarrassed, but not to the point where youâd want to keep away from him.
Your iPad is thrown next to you on the grass, forgotten and abandoned. Youâre jealous of the sunâ for itâs able to kiss his cheeks without fear, without judgmentâ the boy turning into a putty under your touch, subconsciously leaning into it when you drag his light bangs away from his forehead.Â
You admit the fact that you stopped working on your project the moment he arrived, not able to put your attention elsewhere than to his presence. Youâre also aware heâd sleep better and more comfortably in his own bed, but for some reason, you selfishly want to keep him thereâ looking like a painting, something akin to a poem you wish you wrote.
Just for the moment, you let the reality down on youâ that maybe Park Jihoon was right and there is no use denying the obvious anymore. Just for the moment, you let the feeling consume you, eat you alive. For now, though, the boy in your lap is all yours to admire. Blissfully unaware and painfully beautiful, soft and gentle all around.
The feeling inside of you is too raw, too real and so much different to anything youâve ever known before.
When youâre satisfied with the dose of skinship, you wake the boy up and let him walk you home. You pretend for a moment the feeling is reciprocated and not left scared and lonely out in the open as Eric helps you carry your stuff for you and pulls you into a bear hug in front of your doorstep. You donât tell him that you had the scariest realization while he was soundly asleep in your armsâ itâs too scary and too real and youâre not ready to get your heart broken just yet.Â
You pretend everythingâs like before. Normal.Â
You convince yourself that it will pass.
Once you enter the place, youâre instantly surrounded by the sound of people talking amongst each other, forks and glasses being put down, resonating through the whole place, the phone ringing somewhere in the distance, and a cold shot of liquid coming in contact with your stomach, making you gasp out in surprise.
âOh shit!â Sunwoo grunts as he registers the mess he just caused, looking up at you with an apologetic look. âIâm sorry!â
Noticing the rush everywhere in the pizzeria and the amount of customers he has to take care of, you canât really blame him for not watching where heâs going. Still, your face slowly morphs into a subtle frown at the realization that there is now a dark stain on your favorite white T-shirt, your outfit for the evening ruinedâ meaning half of your confidence disappeared just as fast as the Coca-Cola did from the glass Sunwoo has been holding.Â
âItâs okay,â you sigh, shaking your head. âItâs nothingââ
âIâll get you a towel! Iâll be right back,â the boy urgently says as he makes you hold the half-empty glass of the beverage he just spilled all over you, making you shrug and question if you should just drink the rest of it as a price of consolation.
âDude, this place is packed,â Izzy grunts from next to you, âcanât even blame him for being all over the place, at this point.â
âYeah,â you absent-mindledly nod, eyes searching in the crowd to find the figure you came here for in the first place. Not that you only want his presence, noâ itâs just that Eric was the one who invited you to the festival your university is throwing as a celebration of the end of the semester. Supposedly, he knows the guy thatâs playing in the band thatâs headlining it, and even though you tried to refute his arguments and invitations with the fact that you have nothing to be celebrating just yetâ the final season is surely going to kick your butt and the presentation for your internship is in just two days, which means you should be preparing for it really hard right in this moment, but his pleading voice in your speaker as you talked to him on the phone on your way home from class was strong enough to convince you that maybe you do need some time to wind off before the responsibilities sweep you off your feet again.
Once you find the boy himself walking away from one of the tables in the corner, his eyes find yoursâ as if knowing youâve been looking for him, sensing your presence. His face is outstretched into a smile as he practically skips towards you and Izzy, but the grin leaves his features swiftly once he notices the ugly stain on your shirt.
âDamn, what happened?â he asks.
âSunwoo spilled a drink over me,â you shrug, watching as his coworker rolls his eyes in frustration at the new information. You laugh at his fakely mad expression, shaking your head at him. âItâs fine, he was in a rush.â
âYeah, weâre kinda behind, so I donât know ifââ
âNo, itâs fine!â you hear a female voice call out, making you snap your head towards the direction of the counter behind you, noticing the presence of Lisa, Ericâs older sister. Her face is adorned with a wide grin that gets a teasing hint when her brother sends her a questioning look, making you watch the interaction with interest. âYou said youâre leaving at 7, so youâre leaving at 7. I told dad my friends are coming up to help today, so you just go and enjoy your time out!â
âReally?â Eric asks, tone full of disbelief. You think he spends more time at the restaurant than he does in his own bedroom, and suddenly, youâre happy his sister is being so kind towards the poor boy.
âYeah! You have more important business to take care of anyway, soâŠâ Lisa says, wiggling her eyebrows at Eric. The boy sends her a look full of fearâ which might be justified, since you donât really know whatâs going on at the momentâ before he clears his throat and turns his attention back towards you.
âAnywaysâŠâ he starts, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. âYou can change into my shirt, if you wantâŠ? I have a spare one in the back in a case of emergency, and this surely looks like one, soââ
âOh, itâs okay, you donât have toââ
âI mean, the stain is pretty noticeable, so I was justââ he says.Â
âItâs fine, Eric, Iâll just wash it in the sink, or something.â
âOr you can take my shirt that does not have a stain on it. I swear it doesnât smell, I only wore it once! Iâll wear the one I forgot in my locker the other day,â he says, looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. Your heart does a flip in your ribcage.
You have to mentally restrain yourself from freaking out over this. Heâs just being nice. Heâs offering you his shirt because he probably knows that you want to look goodâ he is offering you his shirt because he knows the stain on yours is bothering you and that it wouldnât come out as easily in the sink if you donât wash the shirt properly with laundry detergent that you donât have on hand right nowâ and when you weight all the positives and negatives of the offer (which you find far less pros than cons in, just for the record), you realize you donât really have a reason to decline his offer.
âI mean, if youâre sureâŠâ
The boy only nods, gently takeing you by your forearm as he leads you towards the back. Youâve never been there before and you also donât really know where Izzy disappeared to, but you stop worrying about those the same moment Eric opens his locker and hands you his black shirt, a tight-lipped smile adorning his features.
âIâll give you some privacy.â
âThanks,â you nod. You wait for the door to close before you quickly drag your sticky T-shirt over your head and discard it off your chest, glad youâre ridded of the nasty feeling of it against your skin, fastly putting on the soft material that Eric draped onto your hold before on your upper body.Â
The smell of his cologne instantly hits you in the face stronger than a baseball ever could, making your head spin and your stomach feel like itâs floating in the middle of the sea. Taking a quick look at yourself in the mirror on the wall next to you, you admire the way the garment fits you just wellâ since the height difference between you and Eric is barely existent. It makes you wonder if you could share wardrobesâ the mental image of him in your favorite oversized graphic T-shirts making a foolish smile creep onto your cheeks, one that you forcefully wipe off the second you see it in the mirror. You smooth down the fabric before you tuck one side into the waistband of your jeans, satisfied with your new outfit.Â
Giddy, you walk out of the storage room. It takes you a few moments to find your group of friends standing next to the counter, chatting. You notice that Sunwoo has already changed out of his work uniform into his regular clothesâ a black band tee and camo cargo pantsâ one arm around Izzyâs shoulders.
âReady?â your roommate asks, watching you nod.
âIâll just go change and then we can go,â Eric says, swiftly turning on his heel and disappearing into the room you just came out of.
Izzy and Sunwoo talk amongst each other before they turn to you, finally deciding to include you in their conversation. âExcited for tonight? Eric said you need to destress,â Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at you, making you shrug.
âI guess,â you hum, âI think I practiced my presentation so many times I could recite it in my sleep now, but it also strangely feels like I donât know it enough, yâknow?â you say, shaking your head. âItâs driving me crazy.â
âI just think you need to take your mind off things, babe,â Izzy chirps, sending you a comforting smile. âYou worked hard enough.â
âWell, we will find out soon if it really was enough,â you snicker, making your roommate glare at you with disapproval. Before she has a chance to ridicule you for your self-deprecating thoughts, you choose to change the topic instead, picking one thatâs interesting her enough to forget all about your worries. âI heard from Izzy you wanna go bowling?âÂ
âYeah!â Sunwoo perks up, excitement swirling in his dark orbs. âI havenât been in a while, actually. I was thinking us four could go after exams are done? As a celebration?âÂ
You four. You find the fact that this is your new usual strange, but also welcome. How you fit into the group, your presence always counted on. Somewhere along the way, you fell into the causality of the friend groupâ and you canât say you hate it as much as you thought you would.Â
âYeah, Iâm down,â you shrug. âIâve never played, though.â
âDude, you and Eric go so well together, then. Heâs actually shit at it, so I would even go as far as saying you will be better than him after two tries,â Sunwoo laughs.Â
You and Eric go so well togetherâ your brain repeats like a mantra. You know he didnât mean it in that way. You canât help but wonderâ if youâd ask, would he further support his point?
âSpeaking of Eric, whatâs taking him so long? Weâre gonna be late for the concert, at this point,â Izzy hums, checking the time on her phone.
âShould I go tell him to hurry?â you ask, receiving a pair of nods ushering you to go get him.
Taking a few steps towards the staff-only room, not thinking much before you pull the doorknob, you peep insideâ regretting it immediately.
Youâre met with the image of Eric turning towards the door to see who it is, shirtless. Your eyes canât help but wander over the angles of his defined arms and stomach, making heat rush into your cheeks faster than youâve ever felt it before, a broken noise escaping your throat as you pathetically try to both apologize and pretend you didnât just have a visceral emotion to the sight of his bare body right there, a few meters away from you.
âShit, sorry, I justââ you say as you turn on your heel, your body moving by itself and on its own accord as your brain flashes a few red exclamation marks right in front of your eyes, âthey justâ we should hurry, they said,â you mutter out, blanking.
âComing!â Eric hums, the shuffling of clothes behind you making you believe he is now fully dressed. You wonât test your theory and look over your shoulder, thoughâ you fear the dreams youâd have tonight if you saw him shirtless even for a second longer. You donât take the initiative to leave the room either, thoughâ feet glued to your spot right behind the door.
You hear the locker slammed shut, the sound of footsteps approaching making you all alert. God, you feel awkward. You feel embarrassingly awkward.
You find comfort in picking at the fabric of his shirt on your body, playing with it in between your fingers. After a moment, you feel his palm come in contact with your shoulder, his arm reaching around your figure as he leads you out of the storage room once again, completely ignoring your flustered state. Youâre not sure if heâs uncomfortable or if he truly didnât mindâ but the moment he utters out his next comment, your knees almost buckle, making you breathless at the sight of his cheeks dusted a light pink.
Tugging at the sleeve of his own shirt adorning your body, he admits: âThis looks really good on you, by the way.â
When you arrive at the festival, the band isnât playing yet. You and your friends decide to hang out in the back of the crowd, not really wanting the music to blast straight into your ears from the speakers on the podium, and before you even have a chance to ask Eric who is the friend thatâs singing in the band youâre here to see, the male disappears to find the toilets.
Chuckling at the fact that he couldnât take care of the business before you left the pizzeria, but also suddenly too bored without him (since Izzy and Sunwoo donât count as proper company when all they pay attention to at this point of their relationship is each other), you decide to get in the line for drinks, announcing your departure to the love birds before you go. You figure you should probably get a drink for Eric too, since he always makes it his quest to pay for yours before you even get a chance to take out your wallet, and you suddenly see his departure as the perfect opportunity to do just thatâ he wonât have a way to stop you this time.Â
Standing promptly at the end of the line, you people-watch and listen to conversations of the fellow students hanging around the field. The drink stands are the most occupied out of the whole festival, the crowd of people waiting for a beverage accumulating half the population waiting for the concert, making you almost regret going here alone, since itâs pretty boring to just stand around, doing nothing.
âDamn,â someone hums from behind you, making you turn around to face the stranger, âIâm doomed.â
Instinctively, you raise your brows in question at the male, only prompting him to speak more once you make eye contact.Â
âIâm playing on stage in a bit, but I wanted to get a beer before we start,â the guy states, chuckling. âAt this rate, Iâm gonna be late for my own set!âÂ
The fact that one of the band members that are supposed to perform in just a few minutes is currently standing behind you in line for drinks is a little amusing, to be honest. Youâd say itâs kind of irresponsible to get to your own gig late, but you guess the boy is living the lifestyle of a punk star already, despite bagging only a mere university concert.
âYou should try skipping the line and saying youâre VIP, then,â you joke.Â
âAnd get killed? No, thank you,â the boy laughs, shaking his head. âIâll just see if I can make it in 15 minutes. If I donât, Iâll just make a run for it.â
Laughing, you nod in acknowledgement at his comment. You donât really expect the conversation to go any further after that, but the stranger surprises you as he offers you his hand to shake, a lazy smile appearing on his face as he introduces himself.
âIâm Yeonjun, by the way,â he says.
âOh, nice to meet you. Iâm Y/N,â you smile, shaking his outstretched palm.
âHow come Iâve never seen you around before?â he hums, making a step towards you as the line moves, making you walk back a step to close the gap in the crowd. Still, he follows you a step further and invades your personal bubble, standing too close for someone youâve just met.
âMaybe you have,â you shrug, âand you just donât remember it.â
âIâd remember a pretty face like yours,â Yeonjun comments, making you bite back a laugh.Â
Is he flirting? Wow. You scan the male up and down, his self-assured stance making you believe that he is very confident in his persona. Maybe itâs the fact that heâs very attractiveâ plump lips, tall, shoulders broadâ or maybe itâs the social status that comes with being in a band. Nonetheless, you can see the act working on many women.Â
Not you, though.
âWell, I study business, so maybe thatâs why.â
The male nods, shrugging. âMaybe Iâll have to hang around the business building more often, then.â
âMaybe,â you nod, chuckling. âThere's a bunch of weirdos majoring in Accounting out there, though, so Iâd watch my back, if I was you.â
âWell, if it means I get to see your face, I can put that past me,â Yeonjun smirks, making you mentally roll your eyes at the cheesiness of his words.
You donât really get affected by obvious pick-up lines like these. Not that you hear them oftenâ quite the opposite, reallyâ but you much prefer more natural dynamics. One where conversations feel easy and casual, not forced and with deeper intentions. You canât deny Yeonjunâs attractiveness, no, but you also canât really say itâs doing much for you.
Not really knowing what to reply, you awkwardly shrug. âAnd what do you major in, then?â
âCommunications,â the male replies. Something in you clicksâ is this the friend Eric was mentioning? You should ask him about Yeonjun after he comes back.
Before you even have a chance to open your mouth and say the words, the male cuts you off after taking a quick glance at his phone. âLook, Y/N, Iâd love to get to know you more, but I really have to run now. But if you give me your number, we can get a drink together after my gig is done?â
âOhââ
âThat wonât be needed,â you hear a low voice coming from behind you, making your eyes snap towards the source. Your eyes go wide as you recognise the owner of the voice instantly, your heart hammering in your chest at the close proximity he puts between the two of you. âSheâs with me, actually.â
âEric, dude!â Yeonjun beamsâ confirming your suspicions. âSorry dude, I didnât know that was your girl.â
Your girl. The two words echo in your ears, making your world tilt slightly on its axis. Itâs not even trueâ youâre not together and youâre not Ericâs in any way, shape or formâ but something about being called that by other people while wearing his clothes makes you feel like you just shifted realities into one where youâre with him and not so scared of his rejection. One where youâre dating and you get to be called that all the timeâ one where the words are true.Â
Youâre being foolish again.
You look at Eric in shock, noticing him already staring down at you with a panicked expression on his face. You donât really know whatâs going on in his head behind the shaking orbs of his, a tight-lipped smile offered to his mate as the tips of his ears burn red, a hesitant tone of voice making it known that the possessive words caught him off guard just as much as they did to you. âWell, not exactlyâŠâ
The male trails off. Your stomach does that weird thing again. Youâd say thereâs a soaring hint of hope in your chest, swimming around your intestines, that you want to simultaneously help and also drown in fear of holding on to something that is not even there in the first place, as you look back at Yeonjun. He is now staring the two of you downâ shifting his gaze from one of you to the other, a knowing grin appearing on his lips as he processes the situation.Â
âO-oh⊠Okay, I see what you mean,â he nods, laughing. âWell, see you two later! Iâmma head to the stage,â he pats Ericâs shoulder and waves at you before fully disappearing from the never-ending drink line.
A suffocating silence engulfs the two of you after his departure, making you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek. The thoughts running through your brain almost suffocate you before Eric brings air into your lungs again, making your inner monologue stop as he casually speaks up again, showing you that nothing has changed in your dynamic after this interaction and there is no reason for you to feel awkward with him right now.Â
You just need to silence your thoughts and feelings more efficiently. These slip-ups canât keep happening.
âWhat will you have to drink?â he asks.
âIâm not telling you, because then youâll get it for me and I decided Iâm paying today,â you say, batting your eyelashes innocently at the male.
âI can just pay anyway, you know?â he laughs, making you shake your head.
âYou donât have to do that,â you hum. âActually, I donât want you to. You keep getting things for me, so I think this is the time to repay the favor.â
âDamn it,â he sighs. âThat was me paying the Y/N subscription, though. How will I manage to make you keep hanging out with me now?â he jokes, shaking his head.
âStupid,â you giggle, teasingly pushing him out of your way. âWhat will you get? And donât say nothing, itâs my time to pay the Eric subscription fee.â
âI actually get paid in hugs and cuddles, so this doesnât work on me,â the male shrugs, avoiding eye contact with you.Â
âDamn,â you hiss through your teeth, acting distraught. âThat payment is long overdue, then. Wonder if theyâll come and take my house, or something.â
âI heard they wonât if you pay back what you owe,â he states casually.
How can he say such things with a straight face? Does he not realize just how much his sweet words affect you? Does he not know you feel like he has a magnet inside of him at all times that is begging to pull you in and glue you to his side, always and forever? Is he unaware of the effect his arms have on you whenever he puts them around your shoulders in public, or to the way your hands sweat whenever his fingers mindlessly drag themselves along the length of shoulder while doing so?
Or does he know and only wants to drive you crazier, more insane? Does he enjoy your misery?
âHope itâs not a lot, then,â you joke, watching as the boy finally looks at you, eyes soft and glimmering, shoulders shrugging.
âIâll hand the accounting over to you,â he says. âI trust that youâll figure it out.â
Punching him in the shoulder lightly, you shake your head at his antics. âPeach iced tea, then?âÂ
âHow did you know?â
âYou always get that one when youâre driving,â you say, walking up to the counter.
He lets you pay for the drink this time, eyes glued to your figure. Youâre unaware of the way he watches you in the crowd, just as much as he is of the fact that he doesnât have to fear an older, taller band guy stealing your attention away from him.Â
You come back to your friends with the drinks in hand just in time for the show to start. You watch the stage and grin at the sight of the frontman you just met having the time of his life during his gig, while the boy next to you watches your face every time a love song appears on the setlist. Neither of you are bold enough to dance together to the slow beats the way Izzy and Sunwoo are, lovingly gazing into each otherâs eyes. You share knowing looks insteadâ growing shy when you hum the lyrics off the well-known songs Yeonjunâs band covers and the words get too intimate.Â
In the tune of love by wave to earth, though, when your heart skips a beat as Ericâs hand accidentally brushes against yours, you decide they wrote the song about himâ not that youâll ever admit that out loud.
The doorbell rings. Alone in the apartment, but knowing exactly who youâre expecting to see on the other side of the doorâ well, at least who youâre hoping to seeâ you shuffle towards the hall in your socked feet, taking your sweet time, your pace slow. There is not much energy stored in your body after today, and even though you wish to just bury yourself under the covers of your bed and sleep until you regain everything that your internship took away from youâ until you donât feel so bad about yourself and so defeated with your effortsâ your small, fragile heart yearns for the presence of one person in particular, making you sheepishly order pizza through their website, because you know he has work today and there is no other way for you to see him.
Reaching for the handle, you open the door and reveal your busted appearance to Eric Sohn standing at your doorstep with a box of pizza in his hands, a light pink hoodie covering his figure, eyes big as the moon staring at you all expecting.
âSo? How did it go?â he asks, genuinely hopeful. The boy has been suspicious of your mood ever since you got the final presentation on your internship over with and you didnât instantly text him, telling him how it wentâ and the look he finds on your face only further proves his suspicions.
Your face morphs into a deep frown, trying to bite back your tears. His cheerful demeanor drops the moment he sees you struggling, not wasting a second as he shifts towards you and makes you back up into your apartment, putting the pizza box onto the coffee table in your hall before throwing his arms around your body, leading your grabby hands to hold on to the fabric of his sweater.
âIt was terrible,â you sniffle, feeling the palm of his hand cradle your head into the crook of his shoulder, petting your slightly matted hair. A few tears escape your eyes and roll down your cheeks, making your whole body shake and tremble in his hold.Â
You donât usually show how affected you are by disappointment. You feel a bit humiliated, a bit embarrassing for both flunking your presentation and also for showing your weakness in front of Eric, but his gentle nature and the comfort you feel in his sheer presence is enough for you to forget about the hurt. You try to focus on the warmth of his skin instead, on the way his arm soothingly runs down your back, making you ground yourself. There is not much you can tell him in your current position, words getting caught in your throat, but itâs still enough for him to understand.
âI worked so hard on it,â you mumble, âI tried so- I tried so hard, and then they said it w-was bad andââ
âShh, itâs okay,â he hums, holding you closer to him.Â
Youâre not used to not being instantly good at everything. Itâs something you have yet to come to terms with after getting into university. Youâre no longer the top of your class and you arenât the best at all assignments and final exams you take anymoreâ and itâs a big kick to your ego. It makes you feel useless. It makes you feel stupid.
And thatâs world-shattering. The image you once had of yourself is now taken forcefully away from your hands, replaced by disappointment and shame from the fact that youâre only mediocre and everything you thought about yourself up to this point was just a mere lie.
âY/N, you tried your best. And I know you feel bad now, but Iâm still proud of you for working so hardâ itâs not your fault your efforts werenât appreciated,â he says close to your ear, trying his hardest to be the calm after the storm for you.
After a few moments spent breathing in his scent, anchoring yourself to his presence, you force yourself to pull away from his chest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, averting his gazeâ because still, this is all so new to you and you donât really know how to let yourself feel less foolish for your sudden outburstâ you shrug and clear your throat.
âUhm⊠thank you,â you mumble, âsorry forâŠâ
âNo,â he shakes his head, suddenly moving to take off his shoes. âThereâs nothing to be sorry for.â
âYouâre⊠Eric, you have work, you canât just stay. I donât want you to get in troubleââ
âThey canât fire me,â he chuckles, trying to make light of the situation. After you watch him with worried, guilty eyesâ because even though the logical part of your brain is telling you to throw him out of your apartment and just go eat the pizza you ordered as you bite back your own tears, the emotional side of you really wants him here, it really wants him close. He moves towards you again and ruffles your hair, gentle eyes watching you, preventing you from protesting any further. âItâs okay, Y/N. You need me here more than they do tonight, trust me.â
âI feel bad now,â you mumble.
âI know,â he playfully notes, âthatâs why Iâm here. Besides, youâre more important than work anyway.â
âThatâs a pretty fucked up list of priorities,â you laugh airly, trying to mask the way his words have your heart squeezing on itself, nervous gold swirling in your stomach.
âIt works for me,â he shrugs.
The moment you move back towards your room, the realization of the fact that Ericâs never seen it before sinks in fully, suddenly making you nervous about the act. Everything feels strangely natural as he enters the space, though, feet shuffling towards your bed as he takes a seat on the comfy mattress. However, your eyes still nervously scan your room, chewing on your bottom lip as you wonder if the perception of you has changed after seeing the state of you, the state you live in. âIâm sorry, itâs kinda messyââ
âY/N.â
Looking at him, noticing the encouraging, gentle gaze he offers you, everything around you shifts in its axisâ the world stops, giving you a chance to breathe, a chance to exhale, and the weight slowly disappears off your shoulders.Â
âRelax,â he laughs softly as he reaches for your hand, tugging you towards him. Taking your place in between his legs, towering over the sweet creature in your bed, you feel like you can finally breathe more easily now that heâs here.
Itâs okay, you realize. Magically, today no longer feels like the end of the world.Â
His thumb gently swipes across the back of your palm, making your insides turn into a putty, a soft smile slowly mirroring his appearing on your previously frowning face.Â
âIâd like to, uh..â you clear your throat, shying away from his gaze, âpay back the missed subscription fees then, if I can.â
Your bold statement has the room fall into an overbearing silence. For a moment, you forget itâs Eric who youâre withâ the man that never judges you, the only one that makes you feel safeâ as you go into a momentary panic. When you dare to look at him again, though, you notice him eagerly searching for your gaze, a boyish smile playing with his lips showing you that he doesnât mind you askingâ quite the opposite, really. He enjoys the preposition.
The male leans back in your bed and watches you as you climb next to him. For a moment, you donât really know what to do, being too shy to hold onto him the way you truly want to, but the male wastes no time as he shuffles a bit in your sheets and moves to his side. One of his arms sneaks around your middle, pulling you to him, as his leg carelessly swings over your feet, trapping you in. His whole body weight rests against your figure, but it does nothing to suffocate you or take air out of your lungsâ quite the opposite, really.Â
You feel content in his hold. Your hand instinctively holds onto his forearm, keeping him close. If you could, youâd crawl into his skin, make a home in his chest and stay there, protected from all bad. What you donât realize is that thereâs a little fort in his heart reserved as a house for you alreadyâ one he guards and lets no one intoâ the unspoken, tender words now hanging everywhere around the corners of your room.
âThe pizza will get cold, though,â he mumbles, tone of voice low from the close proximity of him next to you, the desire to protect the intimacy showing through the hushed out words.
âIâm not hungry,â you say lazilyâ exposing him to the fact that itâs not the food you needed tonight when you were ordering. âI kinda feel sleepy, thoughâ you admit, letting your eyes rest a bit. Youâve been restless ever since you came home from work todayâ you didnât know all you needed to finally turn off your endless stream of thoughts was Ericâs presence.
âSleep, then,â he hums. âIâll heat it up for you when you wake up.â
You let out a disapproving sound.
âYou need sleep. And also food,â he scolds you, his other hand somehow sneaking itself under your figure and into your hair again, playing with the strands and scratching at your scalp. âYouâve been stressing out for so long, no wonder youâre so worn out right now.â
You feel like youâve been laid bare, exposed right in front of his eyes. You feel naked and fully vulnerable, but you make no effort to shield yourself from his gaze, for itâs not prying and unwanted, but gentle and caringâ so much to the point you feel like itâs going to consume you. Your head spins and your heart aches with deep yearningâ itâs strange.Â
You already know what that feeling is:Â
Youâre falling, falling, and falling.
All thereâs left is to hope he wonât drop you. All there is left is to hope heâll catch you on your way down.
Your body shifts so itâs facing him, your breathing mixed. Your faces are inches away from each other, making you afraid to open your eyes and study him from up closeâ for you think he knows how to read you too well by now, and your lingering gaze would tell him too much. Eyes donât lie, after allâ they never do.
âYou did well,â he hums.Â
The shattered pieces of your tender heart spill themselves into his outstretched palms. You watch as he mends them together, sewing them with an invisible, red string. The boy silently leans into your face and his lips press a gentle kiss to your cheek, only further strengthening your decision to stay blind in the moment, not wanting to reveal just how much youâre affected by the tender action.Â
Itâs been a long dropâ a slow one, one you could get used to. Still, youâre falling, falling and falling,
And even though youâre unaware, heâs there all this time, waiting at the bottom, his arms open wide.Â
The idea of celebrating the end of the exam season with Izzy, Eric and Sunwoo by going bowling is quickly and forcefully taken out of your hands when you arrive at Sohn's Pizza to pick the boys up, all dressed up and ready. The place is full of people, there is screaming coming out of the kitchen, and while usually, Eric or Sunwoo would be greeting you by coming out of the back and welcoming you in, there is no one in your sightâ which makes you just the tiniest bit suspicious.
Sharing a concerned look with your roommate, the two of you curiously walk through the place and peek behind the counter, being met with emptiness as more screaming resonates through the kitchen. You donât mean to intrude or listen in on a conversation youâre not exactly invited to, you really donâtâ but you just canât help it as the sound of Ericâs angry, frustrated voice cuts through the space, catching not only your attention, but also everyone elseâs in the restaurant.
âI donât care that dad is too scared to hire someone into our sacred family business!â he huffs. âI donât give a single flying fuck, because now, our plans are ruined again, all because they decided to go on a surprise holiday and they left us three to deal with the whole place!â Eric ironically sings the words âsurprise holidayâ as he expresses his frustration, showing how much the whole situation bothers him.
âEric, calm down, people can hear youââ you hear Lisa muttering, making you chuckle at the interaction between the siblings.
âSo if dad wants to go on a holiday ever again, he either hires someone so we donât have to be here 24/7, or I quit!â he finishes his little rant.Â
There is a moment of silence behind the thin walls, making you and Izzy stare at each other with a blank lookâ a look empty, but full of understanding that there is no bowling happening today and there is nothing you can really do about itâ before the sound of dishes hitting the floor hits your ears, making you wince. The fall is followed by a pained voice full of misery.
âFUCK!â
Izzy chuckles, opening the door to the kitchen without much hesitance, inviting the two of you into the chaotic situation. Taking a step towards the room behind the staff only sign which you ignore because Izzy thinks sheâs basically a part of the family now, you look around a bit anxiously, being met with the sight of Eric picking up bowls and pans from the floor and throwing them back into the sink to wash, Sunwoo adding topics to a pizza with furrowed brows and his bottom lip jolted out (clearly sulking), and Lisa checking up on the food in the oven.
All three pairs of eyes are glued to you the moment the sound of the door opening fills the space, two sets lighting up and the third one looking at you with pure curiosity.Â
âNeed any help around here?â Izzy chuckles, looking around. The place is messyâ covered with sauce in some places, flour all over Sunwooâs apron, soap and water dripping down the cleaning station. Itâs clear as hell the three of them arenât handling the after-exam Friday rush well by themselves, and although you mourn the idea of relaxing in a bowling alley with your friends after the hard weeks of finals, you canât say youâre too disappointed.
You canât play bowling, after all, and you still get to see your friendsâ so itâs no big deal.
âNo, you donât have toââ Eric starts, ever-so considerate.
âItâs okay, we justââ Sunwoo follows, the two boys not wanting to share the responsibility thatâs not yours.
After hearing each other interrupting their dismissive words, the two look at each other and chuckle. âIâm afraid we canât hang out today, though. As you can see, our parents left the place to us and went on a holidayââ
âWe heard,â you cut the ownerâs son off, a teasing grin on your face shutting the boy up instantly, to which he offers you a shy look as he drowns his hands in the sink again, trying to tackle the dishes.Â
Walking over to the poor boy reminding you a little of a wet dog now, since his bangs are damp as well, making you believe heâs been running his hands through in frustration mid-washing upâ you take a kitchen towel off one of the shelves and decide to dry off the plates heâs done scrubbing, putting them away neatly on one of the trays situated next to the sink and getting them ready for the next customers. You donât really ask what to help with, since youâre sure Eric and Sunwoo wouldnât tell you eitherâ feeling bad for making you work with them instead of taking you out like they promised they wouldâ you only tackle what seems to be the most important task in the moment, helping out the best you can.
âIzzy, Iâm really sorry for exploiting you,â Lisa starts out, making the whole room laugh out at her joke, âbut for a free pizza or maybe even two, would you mind doing the waitressing for a bit? I fear people out there are mad as hell, but maybe if you tell them we are short on staff todayââ
âIâm on it!â your roommate nods and salutes to the older girl, disappearing back into the main area of the pizza place. Since she has some experience with waitressing and working in the food service, you doubt there is anything to worry about.
The kitchen quiets down, the only sounds heard being from the sink, an occasional sigh escaping Sunwooâs throatâ he really must have been looking forward to this dayâ the atmosphere growing less heavy and hectic with two more pairs of hands in the building. You know they donât want to admit it, but the boys are secretly glad for the helpâ it makes working so much easier and less nerve-wrecking to the employed youngsters.
âIâm sorry,â falls out of between Ericâs lips after a while, low and sincere. You look at him from your place to the left of his figure, furrowing your brows at him in question.
âHuh?â you voice out, watching him shrug.
âWell, we were supposed to hang out today and now we canât, soâŠâ the boy trails off, making you chuckle and coo at him, touched with his sincerity.
âThatâs not really your fault, so I donât see why youâre apologizing,â you say, âbesides, we are still hanging out now, no? I donât mind the location change,â you smile, slightly bumping your hip into his, the kitchen towel now getting damper and damper with the amount of dishes youâve dried off with it in such a small time frame.
The two of you continue on with the task, all while playfully bumping hips from time to time, trying to catch the other one off guard with the contact, grins shared between the two of you. You barely register Izzy coming in and out of the kitchen, telling the cookâ Sunwooâ the new orders, Eric and you pulled into your own bubble, attention focused mostly on each other, then at the otherwise domestic act accompanying you in your interaction.
âExams went well?â Eric asks.Â
Nodding, you hum in agreement. âSome were harder than others, but I didnât fail any, so thatâs a win. You?â
âAbout the same,â he grins. âI mean, the grades arenât great, but I passed all of them, soâŠâ
You laugh at his comment, shaking your head at his attitude. You wish you could take school and all of its responsibilities with as much ease as your friend doesâ too bad youâre an anxious over-achiever and donât really know how to relax ever.
âAcademic weapon,â you joke.
âOh, thatâs your title,â he says as he finally scrubs off the last plate and turns the tap off, placing it into your hands to dry, âI donât even try, because I donât wanna take it away from you,â he jokes.
âSo considerate,â you muse, rolling your eyes at him. The boy wipes his hands on the towel hanging off your arm, the two of you sharing a playful lookâ Ericâs eyes swirling with honey and gold inside, making you all warm and fuzzy. You find it hard to look away.
The noise of someone suddenly clearing their throat catches you off guard and pops the soap bubble youâve been trapped in with your friend, making you look at the source, curious what his sister has to say. She is looking at the two of you with a teasing smirk on her face that instantly makes your cheeks burnâ for you know you were caught staring too much, too long at her younger brotherâ before she points to the pizza boxes in front of her, towering so much they almost topple over and drown her in the baked dough and cheese.
âI need you two to do the deliveries,â she muses, âif you donât mind, of course.â
Shaking your head, showing that youâre completely fine with the task, the two of you walk over towards the impressive pizza tower. Eric takes the bigger half into his hands while Lisa puts the car keys onto the box on top of your smaller stack, sending you a knowing look that you try to ignore.Â
Walking out of the place, noting that one person could very well do the deliveries alone after loading up the car, but also realizing that even though you could be more needed inside, you kinda wanna spend more time with Eric, you wait for him to shut the car door and tell you the next instructions.
âI think the most efficient way to do this is one of us driving and the other one going up to the doors with the orders,â he muses, watching you nod in understanding. âI can drive, if you want?â
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, not really happy with the mental image of talking to so many people tonight, you huff. âI kinda wanna drive, thoughâŠ?â you peep.Â
The male stares at you for a few secondsâ as if contemplating if youâre safe enough of a driver, or somethingâ before he places the key into your hand and closes your palm, entrusting you with⊠pretty much his life, if you really think about it. In his defense, it only takes one wrong turn and both of you could be deadâ but he seemingly believes in your abilities.
After you get into the driverâs seat and adjust it to your liking, making sure you can see in all of the mirrors, you pull out of the parking lot with ease, turning with Ericâs directions. You see him watching the map on his phone, making sure you know where to go in time to not turn this drive into an amateur redemption of The fast and the furious: Tokyo drift. You drive smoothly, getting to the destination in short time, stopping in front of the targeted house and watching as your friend gets out of the car with a few pizza boxes, jogging up to the front door.
The sight makes you remember how you met him a few months ago. It makes you chuckle, noticing how much has changedâ you didnât even want pizza that night, but today, youâre driving him in his car, watching as he makes the deliveries.Â
âNo strange notes asking for cute delivery boys?â you joke when he gets to the car and tells you to drive straight until he says to turn right, making him chuckle.
âNo, not really,â he shakes his head, âbut I think itâs funny how Sunwoo didnât get to go, yet it still landed him a girlfriend.â
âI mean, they were both pretty desperate,â you admit, chuckling. Your foolish brain canât help but wonderâ what if it could land both of them a girlfriend? What if you were bold enough to confess your feelings one day?Â
âTrue,â he nods, âthey go well together.â
âItâs still miserable to watch them interact sometimes, though,â you joke.
âIâm sorry, I tried my hardest to prevent it,â he muses.
Furrowing your brows, you look at him in confusion only for a second before you focus back on the road. âHuh?â
âI physically fought Sunwoo so I could go deliver those pizzas to your house back then,â he grins. âBack then, it was because I genuinely believed I was the cuter one, but I think that somehow, I kind of felt it, yâknow? Like, intuition. It was telling me âEric, donât let Sunwoo deliver those pizzas, because then your friend will get into a relationship and make every second with him miserable, because he canât shut up about his new girlfriendââ
You cut him off by laughing, shaking your head at his antics. Eric points towards a street, hinting that you should turn, having you follow his orders.Â
âI like your confidence,â you say, âbut to be fair, seeing you show up at my door was kind of crazy, after all these years.â
âYou make it sound as if you disagree with me,â he casually utters out.Â
Your hands sweat on the steering wheel. Maybe you should swerve off the road and drive into a tree so you can avoid this conversation.
âMaybe I do,â you shrug, thankful that driving makes it easier for you to avert your gaze from him and not make it seem like youâre forcefully avoiding him.
âSo weâre just gonna ignore the fact that you called me the hottestââ
âIf you donât shut up, Iâm crashing the carââ you threaten, your voice coming out a bit more miserable-sounding than you intended it to, showing just how not casual the whole situation was for you.
âLook, you donât have to be shy about it, we both knowââ
âOkay, passenger princess,â you shut him off, watching as the boy next to you has a visceral reaction to your comment.
âI literally offered to drive!â
âWhatever you say,â you muse as you make the car stop at the next destination and let Eric out to complete another delivery.
After the boy jumps inside of the car again, he ignores the previous topic of the conversation. That fact makes you happy, since you donât really know if youâre ready to face the problem at handâ the problem being the very obvious and strong, magnetizing feelings you have for the boyâ so you only continue to drive, listening to the radio he puts on and his occasional humming that he slides in through the directions he gives you.
He continues to deliver all the pizzas they baked when he announces that youâre approaching the last destination. You canât say youâre happy about the factâ since you started to quite enjoy the comfort of the drive, but you guess you canât really prolong the moment any more and force it to last forever, no matter how much youâd like it to.
Eric walks out of the car with the last three boxes in his hands, knocking on the door. The commotion lasts longer than usual, making you suspicious of the interaction he has with the man at the door, before you see the boy shrugging and walking back to the car, one pizza box still in his hands. To say youâre confused would be an understatement.
âWhat happened? Did we mess up somehow?â you ask, motioning towards the pizza box in his hands.
âI donât think it was us who messed up,â Eric snickers, âapparently, they only ordered two pizzas, so I think Sunwoo accidentally made three.â
âOh,â you hum, nodding in acknowledgement.
âBut thatâs fine, because that means we can have this one for free,â the boy grins at you as he puts on his seatbelt. âLetâs move a few blocks so we donât just stay in front of this dudeâs house, though.â
You furrow your brows at him, but still start the engine nonetheless. âShouldnât we head back? I bet we should hurry, from how packed it was, they surely need our helpââ
There is a lack of worry in Ericâs face as he shakes his head in disapproval. It seems that neither of you really want to go back to Sohnâs Pizza and workâ because itâs not as fun as driving around together, singing along to the radioâ but the lack of empathy towards his sister and his friends surprises you. âIâm sure they will survive a few more minutes. Come on, Y/N, the bowling didnât work out, so let me make it up for you at least this way.â
His pleading voice does enough to persuade you as you drive down the street and then a few more blocks to the left, trying to find a calm place where you could park the car and wonât bother anyone as you eat the remaining pizza, while also trying to forget about Lisa, Izzy and Sunwoo alone in the pizzeria working their asses off. You feel a bit guilty with the idea in your brain, but you try to push it back with the image of spending more time alone with Ericâ and suddenly, the previous is almost too easy to ignore.
Little did you know that this was Lisaâs plan all along. While you may be a bad wingman, Ericâs sister surely isnât.
Stopping in front of one of the houses that seems to be empty, turning the engine off and undoing your seatbelt, you spin around to face Eric as he opens the pizza box and gasps at the sight of the cheesy dough. âIâm pretty sure this was fate, man,â he shakes his head in disbelief. âThereâs no way we are left with your favorite. Extra cheesy too, damn...â
âThis is unbelievable,â you agree, playfully clasping your hands together in prayer. âThank you universe for the sign. You were right, we were supposed to stay out longer.â
âIâm always right,â he nods, watching as you eagerly take a triangle off the greasy cardboard and bite down into it, your taste buds cheering in joy as you chew on the treat.
Eric is quick to follow as he takes one for himself as well, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you eat. You didnât even realize you were hungry beforeâ your intentions being to eat at the bowling alleyâ and so you welcome this idea even more now that your stomach is less upset. Crossing your legs on the seat, not really caring about getting the car dirtyâ which in retrospect, you shouldâveâ you hum before you speak up again, already on your second piece.
âIf you were a pizza, youâd be this exact pizza right here,â you hum. You donât really know where that idea came from, but you think youâre speaking the truthâ in your mind, it makes total sense.
Eric stares at you like a confused puppy, a slight grin appearing on his face showing you that heâs trying to see where that came from. âWhy?â he asks. âBecause you love me?â
Here it is againâ the heat appearing on your cheeks from the panic, embarrassment filling your veins. You feel like you were caught in the act, like he sees right through youâ with how heâs been acting the whole evening, you think he might have some sort of intuition. Still, you wonât admit to your feelings out loudâ because thereâs no way theyâre reciprocated, and you wonât cause such a heartbreak to yourself willingly.Â
Eric is just social like that. He is sweet, playful. There is no undertone to his actionsâ itâs just who he is as a person, and there is no way he likes you back.
âNo,â you cough out, almost choking on the pizza. âYouâd be a margherita, because itâs a safe choice. Everyone likes a margherita! Itâs fun, and itâsââ
âTasty?â he interrupts you, a shit-eating grin already plastered onto his lips. âI taste good too, wanna check?â
You think he might be teasing you just for the fun of it now. He loves to feed on your misery, because he sees right through you, he knows youâre absolutely, incredibly enchanted by him, and it strokes his ego to rile you up and make you flustered. Youâre sure of it now. âOh, shut it!â
Eric laughs out loud before he swallows another bite, shrugging. âIf you were a pizza, youâd be hawaiian.â
âHm? Why?â you ask, busying yourself with chewing on the cheesy dough in your hold.Â
âBecause you are both salty and sweet,â he starts, âand I didnât expect to be so into it.â
His words make you stop in your tracks. He didnât expect to be so into it. Does he mean heâs into you, or are you just reading too much into his words? Trying not to seem too affected by his wordsâ trying to play it casual, nonchalantâ you clear your throat and avert your gaze from him, continuing to chew. The pizza in your mouth loses all its flavor the longer you focus on it, turning into a mass of nothing to your taste buds. After the last bite, youâre left mortified with the realization that you have nothing to focus your attention to now, if you donât want to face your friend again and take another slice in between your fingers from the pizza box resting in his lap, and so you just continue to stare ahead, beaten up by the awkward silence.
Play it cool, Y/N. Be normal. He must think youâre weird now, because you wondered even for a second if his joke was serious, and now he wonât want to hang out with you ever againâ
âSo, uhm, just checking,â Eric awkwardly laughs, something about his tone sounding nervous in your ears. âAre you really still that oblivious, or are you just pretending you didnât catch that to not hurt my feelings because you donât like me backâŠ?â he asks.
Your heart does a somersault. Hell, you think you just went into cardiac arrestâ your ears are ringing, your stomach is floating on water and your breathing quickens with his words. Having a full visceral reaction does nothing to help you speak back to him, but your body reacts on itself as you snap your head to the side and finally look at him, gazing into his big, honest eyes.
He looks at you in a similar way he did back at that partyâ expecting, hopeful. You didnât catch it back thenâ the eager, desperate look in his orbs, wishing, praying you chose him in a room full of people, picked him in a row of anyone who would like to have you. It leaves you weak, it leaves you feeling like you were just punched in your face with the realization that youâve been foolish to ever think that this was just how Eric acts and there was nothing more to his acts of care and affection.
âI- uh⊠I just didnât expect you to like me backâŠ?â you say, making it sound like a question, still uncertain about the whole situation. âI thought you were justâŠâ you trail off, pupils shaking as you watch the boyâs face morph out of nervousness into a bright, amused smile.
âLook, Iâmâ I justââ you stutter, not really knowing what else to say, how else to express yourself.Â
Eric was always much quicker than you, much more clever in social situations. He takes your lack of words as a hint as he holds onto your honest, surprised state and takes it upon himself to solidify the reality for you, to show you what the two of youâve been missing for the last couple of months. Reaching over the gearstick, he gently glazes your cheek with his palm before he sends a one last look to your eyes, watching out for any sign of discomfort.Â
His lips lock with yours. Youâre convinced the world stopped turning.
Eric Sohn is sweet like cherry cola. He is a taste of familiarness with something more to it, something new and fresh, sugary and addictive. He is gentle, with an exciting aftertaste, leaving you breathless and wanting more. He is like a hint of home, a memory of your childhood, all safe and loving and tender.Â
The kiss is short. It has you leaning towards him, a handful of his hoodie filling up your fist as you desperately, foolishly drag him to you and press your lips to his again, as if to check if the last kiss was real and you didnât just make it up in your mind by wishful thinking.
You guess you finally reached the bottom after the long, slow fall. You donât even feel the landing as his arms hold you up and spin you around instead, showing you that falling in love doesnât have to be all that scaryâ if the one you want is caring, if the one you want is nothing short of an angel in your eyes.
After you pull away from him, he rests his forehead against yours and enjoys the proximity which he doesnât have to hide the need for anymoreâ now that heâs all yours to keep and youâre all his to hold.
âYou really thought I didnât like you back? Hell, Y/N, youâre all I ever think about,â he scoffs, showing you the ridiculousness of your own beliefs, his ever-so playful tone only further solidifying the sweet aftertaste of his confession. âI like, have butterflies in my stomach and all,â he confides, grinning at you.Â
Rolling your eyes, finally easing into the new territory, you tease him for his words. âThat was extra cheesy.â
âI thought you liked that?â
Gazing into his eyes, feeling your own heartbeat hammering against your chest, you canât help but chuckle at the subtle irony of it all.Â
âMaybe I do.â
âââ JUST MY LUCK; yang jungwon
when your impossibly good luck vanishes overnight after kissing a stranger at a masquerade ball, a fortune teller confirms what sounds impossible: you transferred it to someone who needed it more. now you have to find jungwon who accidentally stole your fortune, except you start to think that maybe meeting him was the luckiest thing that ever happened to you.
â pairing: jungwon x fem!reader | â genre: luck swap au, romcom, fluff, crack, strangers to lovers, slowburn, roommates to lovers; smut (mdni) | â playlist: just my luck - mcfly; no control - one direction; t-shirt weather - circa waves; whisper for the choir - the fratellis; just like a movie - wallows | â word count: 33k
â warnings: smut (mdni!!!!), unemployment lollll; soft down jungwon, switch jungwon, mutual pining, power play, praise kink, oral m&f receiving, piv, light spanking, protected sex
â ronnie's notes: guys iâve been keeping this plot hostage for like six months at least i actually started writing it as a smau but then i gave up because i got lazy just like with every smau iâve ever made (except nicest guy i miss my child then i sat there and thought wait this would work way better as a written fic right??? idk it just made sense in my head!!! so anyway she is finally here đ«¶ my second jungwon fic!!! i really hope you guys like it because iâm lowkey attached to this one đ„č itâs inspired by the movie just my luck btw!! and if youâve never seen it i SWEAR itâs sooo cute you need to watch it. mcfly was one of my favorite bands growing up so that movie has a special place in my heart and i basically wrote mcfly as enhypen LMAOO anyway thatâs it i hope you enjoy the story đ
YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN LUCKY. Every morning you wake up exactly one minute before your alarm goes off. The coffee shop always has your order ready when you walk in even though you never call ahead. You find money in jacket pockets you forgot about. Traffic lights turn green right as you approach them. When it rains, it starts the moment you step inside. Your friends joke that you were born under a lucky star, but it's more than that. It's like the universe decided you were its favorite, and it's been making sure you know it ever since.
And this morning is no different. You're running late for work â or you would be, if the subway train hadn't been delayed by exactly the amount of time you needed to make it to the platform. You slip through the closing doors with seconds to spare, and someone immediately stands up offering you their seat. At work, your boss announces that the company's landing a huge new client, and they want you on the project. You find a twenty dollar bill on the ground during your lunch break.
It's not magic, it's just how your life works. And across the city, Yang Jungwon is having the worst day of his life.
Actually, that's not quite right. He's having the worst day of his life so far, which is saying something, because yesterday was pretty bad too. And the day before that. And the day before that too.
Jungwon is a band manager, which sounds cooler than it actually is. He represents ENHYPEN: Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Jake; four guys with genuine talent and absolutely zero luck in the industry. They've been trying to get a record deal for two years now, and every single opportunity has somehow slipped through their fingers at the last possible second. Like today, he was supposed to have a meeting with a major label. Supposed to, because Jungwon woke up to a dead phone battery (he'd definitely plugged it in), missed his alarm, and then got stuck in traffic caused by a water main break that, according to the news, had a "one in a million chance of happening there." By the time he arrived at the venue, drenched from the sudden downpour that started the second he left his apartment, the label executives were already gone. "They waited thirty minutes," the venue manager told him, not unkindly. "I'm sorry, man."
Now Jungwon sits in a coffee shop, dripping rainwater onto the floor and staring at his laptop screen. His email inbox is full of rejections. His coffee tastes burnt, the cafe's wifi keeps cutting out. And when his phone buzzes with a text from Jay: Howd it go? Jungwon doesn't have the heart to respond yet. He runs a hand through his wet hair and closes his eyes. Somewhere out there, he thinks, someone must be using up all the good luck in the world. Somewhere out there, someone has to be.
And as you arrive at the office, the elevator dings right as you approach it and doors slide open like it was waiting just for you. You step inside and you continue up to the fifth floor, where the marketing agency you work for occupies the entire level. The glass doors swing open and you're immediately hit with the chaos that comes with planning high profile events in the city. Your desk is right by the window, which you'd worried about when you first started because of the glare, but somehow the sun never hits your screen and you have a fire view of the city skylines.
You drop your bag on your chair and head to the break room for water. Sunoo is already there, fighting with the coffee machine. "This thing hates me," he says while smacking the side of it. "I swear it only works for you."
"Want me to try?"
"Please." You press the same buttons he was pressing and the machine immediately whirs to life, dispensing espresso into his cup. Sunoo stares at it. "I don't understand your life."
"Maybe you just have to ask nicely."
"I literally said please three times." He takes his coffee anyway shaking his head. "Did you see the email? We have a meeting with Director Kim in twenty minutes."
You hadn't seen it, but when you check your phone the notification is right there, sent ten minutes ago. Back at your desk, you pull up the project files you'd been working on yesterday. Yunjin rolls her chair over from the adjacent desk, holding out a glazed donut. "They were giving these out in the lobby. Grabbed you one."
"Thanks, Yunjin." You take it and it's still warm. "You're the best."
"I know." She grins. "So, any idea what the meeting's about?"
"No clue."
"I heard it's something big," Riki says, appearing behind you both. The intern is holding a stack of folders that looks about two seconds from toppling over. "Like, really big."
"Everything's big to you," Sunoo says. "You've been here for three weeks."
"Three weeks and two days," Riki corrects. "And I'm just saying, Director Kim only calls meetings like this when it's important."
He's not wrong. Director Kim usually communicates through email or quick desk drop bys. Formal meetings mean something significant is happening. So you make your way to the conference room, it has floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Director Kim is already there, sitting at the head of the table with her tablet and a cup of tea. "Good, you're all here," she says as you file in. "Sit down. We need to talk about HYBE." You exchange glances with Sunoo. HYBE is huge â one of the biggest music labels in the industry. Your agency has worked with them before, but only on smaller projects. Director Kim pulls up something on the screen at the front of the room. It's a preliminary event outline, and the budget number at the bottom makes your eyes widen.
"HYBE is launching a new initiative," she continues. "They're hosting a masquerade ball to introduce upcoming artists, network with industry professionals, and make a statement about their brand direction. They want it elegant, exclusive, and flawless. The event is in six weeks." Six weeks is tight for something this scale, but not impossible. "If we get this, it'll be the biggest project we have handled all year." Director Kim looks directly at you. "I want you to lead this."
The words hang in the air for a moment. "Me?" you ask.
"You." She sets down her tablet. "You've been here for two years, and every event you've touched has gone off without a single issue. I don't know how you do it, but clients love you, vendors love you, and somehow everything just works when you're in charge. Sunoo, you'll be second lead. Yunjin, you're on creative direction and vendor coordination. Riki, you'll support where needed and learn as much as possible. But this is her project. She makes the final calls."
You feel Yunjin nudge your foot under the table, a silent congratulations. "The masquerade theme is non negotiable," Director Kim continues, pulling up mood boards on the screen. "HYBE wants sophisticated, mysterious and high end. Think Venetian carnival meets modern luxury. There will be approximately three hundred guests, including artists, executives, press, and investors. The venue needs to be secured by end of this week," she says. "Catering, entertainment, decor, security, invitations â all of it has to be perfect. HYBE's reputation is on the line, which means ours is too." She looks at each of you in turn. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this. It's going to be intense. But if anyone can pull this off, it's this team." Her eyes land on you again. "Especially you. I've seen you make impossible things happen. So, what do you say?"
What do you say? This is the kind of opportunity people wait years for. The kind that could define your entire career. "I'm in," you say obviously.
Back at your desk, you open your email, and sure enough, there's already a message waiting from Director Kim with all the project files. You start scrolling through, taking in venue options and budget breakdowns. Sunoo grins next to you. "What do you think the odds are that everything goes smoothly?"
You laugh. "Pretty good, probably." And you mean it, because things always do. And that was the exact opposite of how things usually happened to Jungwon.
The cafe kicked him out after the wifi died for the third time â apparently, his presence was "disrupting the router," which doesn't even make sense but also sounds exactly like something that would happen to him. Now he's standing outside the 7 Eleven near his apartment, trying to figure out how to tell the guys that they've officially lost their best shot at a record deal. His phone rings and it's Jay. "Tell me something good," Jay says immediately.
"I'm alive?"
"Jungwon."
"They left before I got there." Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose. "Water main break, traffic, rain â the use."
There's a long silence on the other end. Then: "The use? I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and you're going to come to the bowling alley so we can all yell at you."
"I have a shift in an hour anyway."
"Perfect. Bring food. The vending machine ate Heeseung's money again." And the line goes dead.
Jungwon buys four bags of chips and a pack of energy drinks with the last cash in his wallet, and the cashier gives him the wrong change and he doesn't bother correcting her. At this point, it's expected. The bowling alley is not the worst place Jungwon's ever worked but it's close. The carpet is a geometric nightmare from the eighties, half the lanes have technical issues, and the sound system shorts out every other week. But the owner lets them use the back room for band practice as long as Jungwon keeps everything running, so he fixes bowling shoes, unjams pin setters, and pretends he knows what he's doing with electrical wiring. When he arrives, Jake is trying to kick open the storage room door. "It's stuck again," Jake announces, slamming his shoulder against it.
"Stop, you're going to break it." Jungwon drops the snacks on the front counter and heads over. He jiggles the handle, pulls instead of pushes and the door swings open easily.
Jake stares at him. "I tried that."
"Sure you did."
Inside, Sunghoon and Heeseung are setting up their equipment in the cramped space between old bowling balls and stacks of rental shoes. There's barely enough room for the drum kit, two guitars, and the microphone stand, but they make it work. "Oh good, you brought food," Heeseung says, immediately abandoning his guitar to grab a bag of chips. "The vending machine robbed me."
"So I've been told."
"Did he also tell you that Sunghoon broke a drumstick on the second song yesterday?"
"I didn't break it," Sunghoon protests from behind the kit. "It broke itself."
"Sticks don't just break themselves, Sunghoon," Jake says.
"This one did. It was defective."
"You hit the cymbal too hard."
"That's literally my job! I'm the drummer!"
Jungwon collapses into a folding chair that wobbles dangerously under his weight. Jay emerges from the tiny bathroom drying his hands on his jeans. "So," Jay says, sitting on an overturned bucket. "We're back to square one."
"Square zero," Jake corrects. "Square one implies we made progress at some point."
"We've made progress," Heeseung argues. "We're way better than we were a year ago."
"Cool. Still broke and unknown, though."
"Thanks for that, Sunghoon. Really motivating." Jungwon says.
Jake cracks open an energy drink. "What about that other label? The one Jungwon emailed last month?"
"Rejected us two weeks ago," Jungwon says flatly. "I didn't want to bring it up."
"How many is that now?" Sunghoon asks.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Not really, no."
Heeseung tears open his chip bag with too much force and half the contents spill onto the floor. "This is fine. Everything is fine."
"Nothing about this is fine," Jake says, but he's grinning. "We're a struggling band practicing in a bowling alley that smells like feet."
"It's character building," Jay offers.
"I have enough character. I want a record deal."
Jungwon leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. This is his life now. Working a dead end job at a bowling alley, managing a band that can't catch a break and somehow always being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then his phone buzzes. He checks it, hoping for something good, literally anything good. It's an email from his landlord. Rent is going up next month. "You good?" Jay asks.
"Rent increase."
"Of course it is." Jay tosses him an energy drink. "Drink that. You look dead."
"I feel dead."
Sunghoon taps his drumsticks together. "Okay, pity party's over. We practicing or what?"
"What's the point?" Jake asks. "Not like anyone's going to hear us."
"The point," Heeseung says, picking up his guitar, "is that we're good, and eventually someone's going to notice. Right, Jungwon?"
Jungwon opens his eyes. All four of them are looking at him like he has answers. He doesn't. He really, really doesn't. "Right," he says anyway, because that's what managers do. "Someone's going to notice."
"There we go. Inspirational leadership." Jay picks up his bass. "Let's run through the new song. The one Heeseung wrote."
"It's not done yet," Heeseung protests.
"Then we'll workshop it."
They launch into the song, and it actually sounds good. For a few minutes, Jungwon lets himself believe that maybe, possibly, things could work out. Then the power cuts out. The music dies instantly. The lights flicker and stay off. "Are you kidding me right now?" Sunghoon's voice comes from the darkness.
Jungwon pulls out his phone flashlight and sighs. "I'll check the breaker."
"This place is cursed," Jake says.
"No," Jungwon mutters, heading toward the electrical panel in the hallway. "I'm cursed. The place is just old."
He finds the breaker box and flips the switches. Nothing happens. He tries again. Still nothing. From inside the storage room, he hears Heeseung say, "How much do you want to bet that Jungwon's phone dies right now?" On cue, Jungwon's phone screen goes black. He stands in the dark hallway of a broken down bowling alley, his phone dead in his hand, his band waiting for him to fix something he has no idea how to fix, and he thinks, not for the first time today, that whoever's hoarding all the good luck in the world needs to share. Just a little bit.
The cafe is packed on some Thursday afternoon which makes sense because it's the only decent coffee place within walking distance of your office. You and Sunoo have been coming here at least twice a week for the past six months. "I'm getting the lavender latte," Sunoo announces, studying the menu board like he doesn't get the same thing every time. "What about you?"
"Regular iced coffee. I need to be functional for the rest of the day."
"Boring." He steps aside to let you order first. You shake your head and approach the counter.
The barista smiles at you. "Hi, what can I get you?"
"Just an iced coffee, please. Medium."
She rings it up, and then her eyes widen slightly as she looks at the computer screen. "Oh, wait. Hold on." She turns to call over her shoulder. "Manager? Can you come here for a second?" A guy with a name tag reading "Mark" appears from the back. "What's up?"
"She's the one thousandth customer this month."
Mark breaks into a grin and looks at you. "Congratulations! You get your order for free today, plus a gift card for next time."
You blink. "Really?"
"Really. It's this thing corporate makes us do for customer appreciation." He's already pulling out a gift card from behind the register. "Here you go. Twenty dollars."
"Thank you," you say, taking it. This is objectively ridiculous, but you've learned to just accept these things when they happen. Sunoo appears at your elbow, looking betrayed. "Are you serious right now?"
"What?"
"Didn't you win this same thing last month?"
"That was two months ago."
"That doesn't make it better!" Sunoo turns to the barista. "She's literally the luckiest person alive. It's unfair."
The barista laughs. "Lucky day, I guess."
"Lucky life," Sunoo mutters, but he's smiling. "Okay, I'll have the lavender latte. Medium. Which I will be paying for, apparently."
You step to the side to wait for your drink and Sunoo moves up to the counter. Behind him, the line has grown longer. There's a guy standing there now, hands shoved in his jacket pockets and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He's cute, you notice. Dark hair, big cat looking but tired eyes, nice face, a really nice face. He's staring at the menu board with intensity.
The door to the cafe swings open, and a woman with a huge purse barrels in, not looking where she's going. Her bag clips the side of a display stand near the entrance, and everything happens in slow motion. The stand wobbles. Jungwon is standing right next to it, completely unaware. The stand tips forward, and bags of coffee beans slide off the shelves, tumbling directly toward him. He turns just in time to see them coming. "Oh, come onâ"
Three bags hit the floor around his feet, one of them splitting open on impact. Coffee beans scatter everywhere, rolling across the tile like marbles. "I'm so sorry!" the woman with the purse says, horrified.
"It's fine," Jungwon says, but his voice suggests it is very much not fine. He crouches down and starts trying to gather the beans, but they keep rolling away from him. One escapes under a table and another somehow rolls behind the counter. Mark rushes over with a broom. "Don't worry about it, man. We've got it."
"I can help â"
"Seriously, it's okay. Happens all the time." Jungwon knows it doesn't.
He stands up, and there are coffee beans stuck to his jeans. He brushes them off, looking exhausted in a way that seems deeper than just this one incident. Your eyes meet for a second. He's definitely cute. Even covered in coffee beans and looking like the universe personally inconvenienced him, there's something about him. He looks at you for just a moment longer, and you think maybe he's about to smile, or say something, but then the barista calls out, "Iced coffee for Y/N?"
"That's me," you say, breaking eye contact. You grab your drink from the counter and Sunoo gets his latte a moment later, and you both move toward the table. Jungwon is still standing near the wreckage of the coffee bean display waiting for the line to move forward.
"So," Sunoo says as you find a small table near the window, "did you secure the venue for the HYBE event?"
"Yeah, that gallery space in Midtown."
"Oh, the fancy one. Very masquerade ball-ish."
"Exactly. And we finalized the catering this morning. The guest list is almost done. HYBE's sending over the final names tomorrow."
"How many people?"
"Three hundred and twelve, last count."
Sunoo whistles. "That's huge. When's the event again?"
"Two weeks from Saturday. It's tight, but everything's been going smoothly so far."
"Of course it has. Because you're involved."
You laugh. "I don't think it works like that."
Behind you, you hear the cute guy finally reach the counter. His voice carries slightly. "Just a black coffee. Small."
"That'll be three fifty."
There's a pause. Then: "Uh, the reader's not working."
"Oh, sorry, yeah â it does this sometimes. Try again?"
Another pause. "Still nothing."
"Hmm. Let me reboot it real quick."
You glance over your shoulder without meaning to. Jungwon is standing there, card in hand, looking like he expected this exact scenario. "Give it a sec. It should work now."
After a while, Jungwon takes his coffee, looking stunned, and heads toward the door. As he passes your table, you catch a fragment of his muttered words: "...fuck my stupid baka life..."
"Okay, that guy had the worst luck I've ever seen," Sunoo says, watching him go. "Like, the exact opposite of you."
"Maybe he's just having a bad day."
You smile and finish your coffee. Outside, Jungwon has finally walked away, disappearing around the corner. You wonder, briefly, if you'll ever see him again. And Jungwon walks six blocks before he realizes he's going the wrong direction. He turns around, coffee in hand and tries to retrace his steps. His shoe squelches with every step. The puddle outside the cafe had been deeper than it looked. But he's not thinking about his wet shoe, or the card reader, or the coffee beans. He's thinking about the conversation he overheard.
His brain is already working through possibilities. If HYBE is hosting an event to showcase new artists, that means they're looking. That means there's an opportunity. He just has to figure out how to get ENHYPEN in front of them. You had said something about a meeting with HYBE's events team, which means you're involved somehow, probably with the event planning company. Jungwon pulls out his phone and types out a text to the group chat.
[jungwon:] emergency practice tonight smth came up and i have an idea [jay:] Is it a good idea or a Jungwon idea? [jungwon:] does it matter baka [heeseung:] kinda but yeah [jake:] i'm in but if i lose 20 bucks again ur dead [jungwon:] dude i already told u ill pay u back damn [sunghoon:] Do I have a choice? [jungwon:] no [sunghoon:] Then I'm in I guess
He'd gone home that day and done what he does best: research. He found out everything he could about HYBE's event. The date, two weeks away now. The location â some gallery in Midtown with a name he couldn't pronounce. The purpose â networking and showcasing new talent. And most importantly, the person in charge of casting decisions: Yoon Jeonghan, HYBE's A&R director. So the plan is: Get a demo to Jeonghan, get ENHYPEN noticed. Simple. Except nothing in Jungwon's life is ever simple.
The band spent the last two weeks practicing like their lives depended on it because maybe they did. They ran through their setlist so many times that the bowling alley's owner asked if they were training for Coachella. Jungwon recorded sample tracks; three of their best songs, mixed and mastered as well as he could manage with the equipment they had. He burned them onto a CD, wrote "ENHYPEN" in his neatest handwriting on the disc, and put it in a case that didn't look too cheap.
Now he just needed to get it into Jeonghan's hands. The masquerade ball was invitation only. Black tie. Three hundred of the most important people in the music industry. Security would be tight and Jungwon needed a way in. His first thought was to show up in a suit and try to blend in with the guests, but that plan died when he pulled his only decent suit out of the closet and found a cigarette burn hole right on the lapel. He still doesn't know how that happened, he doesn't even smoke. So the suit was out.
Plan B: get in as staff. Catering companies always needed extra help for big events, and Jungwon had waited tables before. He found the company handling the HYBE event; some place called Ălite Affairs and called asking about a day of work. They were desperate and they hired him over the phone. The mask was easier. He found a plain black one at a costume shop for fifteen dollars, it wasn't fancy but it would do. The catering uniform would cover most of him anyway. Everything was set: three days from now he'd walk into that gallery as a waiter, find Yoon Jeonghan, and hand him the CD. Maybe strike up a conversation, maybe get the guy to actually listen to ENHYPEN's music. It wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan. And right now, that was more than Jungwon usually had.
And for you, the last two weeks have been perfect. The invitations went out on time, HYBE's events team approved the design immediately with no revisions needed. The decor came together exactly as you had envisioned. The gallery place looked like something out of a drama, and Yunjin locked down the entertainment, a string quartet for the beginning of the night, a DJ for later and live performances from three of HYBE's upcoming artists. Riki organized the seating chart without a single complaint from any of the guests, which might be the the most impressive accomplishment of all. Sunoo coordinated with the catering company, and you did a tasting last week, needless to say everything was perfect. Director Kim stopped by your desk yesterday and said, "I don't know how you do it, but keep doing it." And you'd just smiled, because this was what you do. Things work out, they always have.
Saturday arrives with not a single cloud in the sky, which surprises absolutely no one who knows you. You were up at seven, even though the event doesn't start until seven pm. You make coffee, go over the timeline one more time and confirm with the team via group text that everyone's on schedule.
Your dress had been a last minute find, you'd gone shopping three days ago, fully expecting to spend hours searching and found it in the first store. Black, floor length with delicate beading along the neckline that catches the light when you move. It fits perfectly with no alterations needed. And the mask was even easier, you'd walked past a boutique on your way home from work yesterday and saw it in the window: black lace with gold accents and which matched your dress perfectly.
Meanwhile, Jungwon wakes up at noon in a cold sweat from a nightmare where he tripped and spilled an entire tray of champagne on Yoon Jeonghan. He lies there for a moment, staring at the water stain on his ceiling and thinks: Don't. Mess. This. Up. Please, for once in your life.
The catering uniform is hanging on the back of his door, they'd given it to him yesterday during the brief orientation, and it's slightly too big but he'd expected that. He tried on last night to make sure nothing was egregiously wrong. The shirt had a small stain on the cuff but he could scrub it out, probably. The mask sits on his dresser plain black and simple and forgettable, perfect for blending in. He showers and shaves and tries to make himself look presentable. His hair won't cooperate though, which is standard. He gives up after ten minutes and just runs his hands through it.
The CD is in a thin envelope on his desk. He'd checked it approximately fifty times to make sure it actually works and it does; all three tracks, clear audio, no skips. He slips it into the inside pocket of his vest. And by three pm, he's dressed and standing in front of his bathroom mirror, giving himself a pep talk. "You're going to walk in, do your job, find Jeonghan and give him the CD. Have a normal, pleasant and professional conversation with him. Don't spill anything, don't break anything. Don't. Mess. This. Up."
You arrive at four for the final walkthrough, and even though you've seen the space decorated before, it still takes your breath away. Sunoo walks over, adjusting his tie. "Catering's almost done setting up. They brought extra staff, so we're covered if it gets busy."
"Guest check in?"
"Ready. Riki's handling the mask distribution for anyone who forgets theirs."
You exhale. "Okay. Okay, we're ready."
Director Kim â Chaewon, she'd insisted last week ("We're friends, please, call me Chaewon") appears in a stunning black gown with her mask already in place. "This is beautiful," she says, surveying the room. "You've outdone yourself. Enjoy tonight. You've earned it."
Jungwon arrives at the gallery at 4:50 PM, which he considers a miracle. The catering manager briefs the staff in the gallery's kitchen. "This is a high profile event," she says, pacing in front of them. "HYBE's reputation is on the line, which means ours is too. You will be polite, efficient and invisible. If a guest needs something, you get it. If something goes wrong you find me. Do not â I repeat, do not â draw attention to yourselves." Jungwon nods along with everyone else. "Masks stay on at all times while you're in the event space. You'll be serving passed appetizers during the cocktail hour, then transitioning to table service for dinner. Questions?" No one has questions. "Good, masks on. Let's go."
They assign him to pass champagne during cocktail hour. Jungwon adjusts his mask and follows the group into the main gallery. And okay, he has to admit it looks incredible. By seven PM, the gallery is already full. You're standing near the entrance with Chaewon, greeting guests as they arrive. HYBE's executives arrived twenty minutes ago, you recognize a few faces from meetings, though the masks make it harder. Sunoo appears, grinning. "Okay, I have to show you something, come on." He leads you toward the back corner of the gallery, where a small booth has been set up. There's a sign: Madame Clarrisse - Fortune Teller. "HYBE requested this last minute," Sunoo explains. "Apparently one of their executives is really into this stuff. She's been reading palms for the last half hour."
You peer into the booth. A woman in an eleborate purple gown and a jeweled mask sits at a small table, holding a guest's hand. "You want to get your fortune read?"Sunoo asks.
"Why not? Could be fun."
"You already know your fortune, bitch. You're lucky as fuck." Sunoo says with a grin, teasing you, and you laugh along with him.
You wait until the current guest finishes, then slip into the chair across from Madame Clarisse. She's older, maybe sixties. "Give me your hand, dear," she says. You extend your right hand, and she takes it, turning it over, tracing the lines on your palm with one finger and her expression shift. "Interesting," she murmurs. "Your luck line is very strong, remarkably so." She pauses, studying it closer. "But there's a break here, right at the end."
"A break?"
"Yes. Your luck is about to run out."
You laugh through your nose. "Yeah, okay."
"I'm serious, dear. Whatever fortune you've had, it's ending. Soon." Sunoo, standing behind you, snorts. Madame Clarisse looks up, her eyes meeting yours. "Be careful tonight."
"Right. Thanks." You pull your hand back, still smiling.
You and Sunoo walk away, and he is still laughing. "That was the worst fortune telling I've ever seen. 'Your luck is ending.' What kind of scam is that? The fuck does she want you to do?"
"At least she committed to the bit."
"She's probably telling everyone the same thing, so you can come back or whatever and give her more money." You sip your champagne and scan the room. Everything is perfect â guests are mingling, the music is beautiful and the food is being served. Your luck isn't going anywhere.
Jungwon has been circling the gallery for forty minutes and he still hasn't found Jeonghan. He's served champagne to at least sixty people. He's narrowly avoided colliding with another waiter twice. He's successfully kept his tray balanced despite someone bumping into him. So far, nothing terrible has happened, which is almost suspicious.
He's starting to think Jeonghan isn't there when he finally spots him near the bar, talking to a girl in a black dress and lace mask and Jungwon's heart jumps. That's him, that's definitely him. Jungwon's seen enough photos to recognize him even with the mask. So he moves closer, trying to look casual, waiting for an opening. You laugh at something Jeonghan says, you're gesturing animatedly, clearly comfortable. Jungwon wonders if you're someone important or just a guest. After a few minutes, Jeonghan excuses himself and walks toward the restrooms. This is Jungwon's chance. But he needs a better approach than just ambushing the guy in a hallway. He needs context and information.
You're still standing by the bar, alone now, watching the room with the satisfied feeling of seeing everything go exactly according to plan. Then, Jungwon makes a decision. He walks over, tray balanced in one hand, and stops just close enough that you notice him. "Champagne?"
You turn, and there's something about the way he's looking at you, even through the mask. You can see his smiling, but not the polite server smile, almost a grin, more genuine, maybe. "Sure, thank you."
You take the glass and your fingers brush his for a second, and he should walk away now. That's what waiters do, right? Serve and move on. Instead, he stays. "You seem like you're having a good time."
There's a lightness to his voice, almost playful, and you find yourself smiling back. "I am. It's a beautiful event."
"Yeah, it really is." He glances around the room and then back at you. "Someone clearly knows what they're doing."
You smile at that. "Thank you," you say, taking a sip.
His eyebrows raise slightly behind the mask. "So you're the one running this whole thing?"
"Not alone, obviously. But I'm helping, yeah."
"That's impressive." He leans in just a little, enough that you catch a hint of cologne. "Must've been a lot of work."
"It was. But it's worth it when everything comes together like this." You tilt your head studying him. "What about you? You're not supposed to be chatting with guests, are you?"
He grins, and it's disarming. "Probably not. But you looked interesting."
"Interesting?"
"Friendly," he corrects quickly. "You looked friendly."
"Friendly. Right." You take a sip of champagne, hiding your smile. "That's one way to put it."
There's something easy about him. The way he stands there, relaxed but also attentive, like he's got nowhere else to be even though you both know he does. You're not sure why you're still talking to him, but you don't exactly want to stop. "So do you work for HYBE?" he asks, like he's genuinely curious.
"No. I'm with the event company. We're the ones who put all this together."
"Ah." He nods and you swear you see something shift in his expression â relief, maybe? Interest? "That explains the whole 'owning the place' vibe."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Definitely a compliment."
You laugh again, and he seems pleased by that. "What about you? Do you usually work at events like this or is this a one time thing?"
"Sometimes," he says a little too casually. "It's good money. Plus, you know, I get to see how the other half lives." He glances down at his tray and then back at you. "Though I have to say, this is probably the nicest one I've ever worked."
"Well, we tried."
"You succeeded."
There's a beat of silence, and you realize you've been looking at him for longer than it's probably normal. Even with the mask covering half of his face, there's something about him. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the easy confidence in the way he talks. He seems to realize it too because he straightens up slightly. "Well, I should probably get back to work before my boss notices I've been standing here flirting with a guest."
The word hangs in the air. Flirting. "Is that what you're doing?" you ask, smirking, and your voice comes out more playful than you intended.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Maybe. Was it working?"
You bite back a smile. "I don't know, were you trying?"
"Not at first," he admits. "But now I kind of am."
You heart does something stupid in your chest, and you take another nervous sip of champagne to cover it. "Well, you should probably go before you get in trouble."
"Probably." But he doesn't move. "Thanks for letting me talk your ear off."
"Anytime."
He takes a step back and then pauses. "What's your name?"
You hesitate. There's something fun about the anonymity of the masks, the idea that you're both strangers at a party. "Does it matter? We're all wearing masks."
He considers this and then grins. "Fair point â mystery makes it more interesting anyway."
"Exactly."
"So what do I call you then?"
"Hot and mysterious event planner?" you offer, smirking.
"I like it." He smirks back. "What about me?"
"HmmâŠ" You pretend to think about it. "Hot and mysterious waiter who's definitely breaking the rules right now?"
He laughs and it's genuine, the kind of laugh that makes you want to hear again. "That's a mouthful."
"You asked, though."
"I did." He's still smiling as he starts to back away. "Guess I'll see you around, hot and mysterious event planner."
"Maybe," you say. "If you're lucky."
Jungwon laughs at that. Well, he's never lucky, but maybe tonight's different. And then he's gone, slipping back into the crowd and you're left standing there with an empty champagne glass and the strangest feeling that you just met someone you weren't really supposed to. You don't even know his name, but you're smiling anyway.
An hour later, you've had three glasses of champagne, and the room has taken on a pleasantly soft glow. Everything is still going perfectly, the guests are happy, nobody's complained about anything. Chaewon even pulled you aside twenty minutes ago to tell you that HYBE's CEO personally complimented the event. You're riding high on success and champagne when Sunoo finds you near the dessert table. "Okay, so I've been thinking about that fortune teller," he says, already giggling. "What if your luck does run out tonight?"
"Then I guess I'll have to live like a normal person," you say, popping a chocolate covered strawberry into your mouth.
"Terrifying. Truly." He leans against the table, scanning the room. "Although, the way you're going, you'll probably find a sugar daddy at this party and never have to work again."
You snort. "Please. I want to be my own sugar daddy."
"Okay, boss. Independent woman. I respect it." He takes a sip of his drink. "But seriously, with your luck, you could probably kiss someone random tonight and they'd turn out to be the love of your life or something."
"Sunoo."
"I'm just saying! It's how your life works."
You roll your eyes. "You know me. I don't just go around kissing people."
"Maybe you should start. Live a little." He gestures broadly at the masked crowd. "Everyone's anonymous anyway. It's very romantic."
You're about to respond when you catch sight of Jungwon across the room. He's standing near one of the tall windows but he's not really working. He's just there, and the mask obscures most of his face but you'd recognize the way he stands anywhere. "Oh my god," you say. "You've seen that waiter? The one by the window."
Sunoo follows your gaze and nearly chokes on his drink. "Are you serious right now?"
"What?"
"You â of all the people at this party, all the rich executives and hot industry people â you're looking at a waiter?"
"He's cute!"
"He's working!"
"So? What's your point?" Sunoo stares at you like you've lost your mind. "My point is there are literal celebrities here, and you want to flirt with the helper," he says.
"Don't be snobby, Sunoo. It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not being snobby, I'm being logical." But he's grinning now. "Oh god. You have that look."
"What look?"
"The I'm about to do something impulsive look." Sunoo sets his glass down on the table. "Okay, this I have to see."
"See what?"
"You, flirting with a waiter at the most important event of your career."
You cross your arms. "I can flirt with whoever I want."
"I'm not saying you can't. I'm just saying it's very on brand for you to ignore everyone in favor ofâ"
"He seems nice and he's very charming."
"And you've talked to him for like, what? Five minutes?!"
"And?! So what! You've dated people you talked for less."
Sunoo gasps, hand over his chest. "Rude. But fair." He looks at the waiter again then back at you. " But you did say you don't just kiss random people."
"Maybe I'm feeling spontaneous tonight."
"Because of the fortune teller?"
"Because of the champagne."
Sunoo laughs. "Okay. Okay, I dare you to go over there and shoot your shot with the cute waiter, since you're so confident."
You look at him, then at the waiter, then back at Sunoo. "Fine."
"Wait, seriously?"
"You literally just dared me."
"I didn't think you'd actuallyâ" But you're already walking away, and Sunoo's laughter follows you across the room. Meanwhile, Jungwon has given up on finding Yoon Jeonghan. Not permanently but just for the next ten minutes, because he's been nursing a cocktail he swiped from a tray, and the room is spinning just slightly, and honestly? He's tired of stressing. He's leaning against the window just watching the party, and somehow thinking about the girl in the black dress, you. He hasn't seen you in a while, which was probably for the best because he was supposed to be working and not flirting with guests who are way out of his league. And then, as if summoned by his thoughts, you appear in front of him. "Hi again."
Jungwon straightens up immediately. "Oh. Hey."
"You looked lonely over here."
"Did I?"
"A little." You're smiling, and there's something loser about you now, more relaxed. "What happened to working?"
"Taking a break," he says, and you notice the way his mouth curves, not quite a smirk but close.
"Good. Breaks are important."
You lean against the window next to him, close enough that your bare arm almost brushes his sleeve. Close enough to notice things you didn't before, like the way his dark hair falls just slightly into his eyes or the way his mask doesn't quite hide the sharp line of his jaw. "So. Hot and mysterious waiter."
"Hot and mysterious event planner," he counters, and now he's definitely smirking.
"Are you having fun?"
"More fun than I expected," he admits, and his eyes â god, his eyes are so focused on you it makes your stomach flip. "You?"
"It's been a good night." You tilt your head studying him openly now. "You know, I never got to ask â do you always flirt with guests, or am I special?"
He laughs, and it's lower than you expected. "Definitely not always. You're a special case."
"Special how?"
"I don't know yet." He shifts his weight, angling toward you. "Still figuring it out."
You bite your lip without thinking and you watch his gaze drop to your mouth for just a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. "Well, let me know when you do."
"I will."
The air between you feels different now, more charged. The masks aren't even hiding you from each other anymore, it's more like they're giving you permission. "Can I ask you something?" You ask.
"Sure."
"Why did you come over to talk to me earlier? Really."
He considers for a moment and you notice the way he runs his tongue briefly over his bottom lip, a tell that he's thinking. "Because you looked interesting. And I wanted an excuse to talk to you."
"That's it?"
"That's it." He shifts closer. "Is that okay?"
"It's more than okay." You're looking at him, really looking, trying to memorize the details the mask doesn't hide.
"You know what," his voice drops a little lower. "You don't seem like someone who spends all their time planning fancy parties."
"What do I seem like, then?"
He takes his time answering, and his eyes moving over your face like he's reading you. You notice things about him too like the way he's tall enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to hold his gaze or the way his shoulders are broader than you initially thought. "Like someone I'd want to know," he says finally. "If we weren't both wearing masks at a party where we were both supposed to be working."
Your smile widens, and your heart is doing something stupid in your chest. "That's a good answer."
"Thanks. I try."
"Do you, though?"
"Not usually, no." He grins and it's devastating. "Tonight's an exception."
You laugh, because there's something about him that makes you want to be bold, want to push boundaries you normally wouldn't. "Okay, you're trouble," you say, but it comes out almost affectionate.
"Me?" He raises an eyebrow. "You're the one who came over here, love."
The petname makes you shiver. "Fair point."
You're standing even closer now. You're not sure when that happened but there's barely any space left between you. You can feel your pulse in your throat and you're aware of everything â the warmth of his body, the way he's looking at you. You should step back, you should remember that you're at the most important event of your career, that he's working, and that you don't even know his name. But you don't want to. Instead, you say, "What if I told you," and you take a step closer, "that I'm not very good at making decisions?"
His lips curve into a smile. "Then I'd say that's hard to believe."
"Why?"
"Because you seem like someone who knows exactly what she wants."
Your heart skips. "Do I?"
"Yeah." He reaches up, and his fingers brush a strand of hair away from your face. "You do."
The contact sends a shiver through you. His hand lingers near your cheek and you can't tell if he's being deliberate or if he's just as caught up in this as you are. "And what if," you breathe, "what I want is a bad idea?"
"Then maybe," he says and his thumb grazing your jaw now, "you should stop thinking so much."
"Is that your professional advice?"
"Definitely not professional." His eyes are locked on yours. "Nothing about this is professional."
"No," you agree. "It's really not."
The space between you has narrowed to almost nothing. You can feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rises and falls just a little faster than normal. His hand is still at your face, and yours has somehow found its way to his chest, your fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his vest. His eyes search yours for a long moment, and then, "Come here," he murmurs.
You close the distance. The kiss starts soft, like he's giving you a chance to change your mind. His lips are warm and gentle against yours, his hand cradling your face. But then you press closer, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and something shifts. He makes a sound low in his throat and the gentleness evaporates. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and his mouth moves against yours with an urgency that steals your breath.
And oh god, he can kiss. It's all consuming, like the way his tongue traces the seam of your mouth before slipping inside. He tastes like champagne, even though he probably shouldn't be drinking during work hours and that somehow makes him even hotter. His hand tightens at your waist while the other cups your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss even further. You press closer, and he responds immediately, his fingers sliding into your hair, careful not to dislodge your mask but possessive. You feel something shift inside you â something fundamental and terrifying and exhilarating, like a lock clicking into place. It feels like the ground beneath your feet just tilted, and it feels significant in a way you can't explain. Like the before and after of your life just split into two distinct halves, and this moment, this kiss, this person is the dividing line.
When you finally break apart it's only because you need air. His forehead rests against yours, and you're both breathing hard, your fingers still tangled in his hair, his hands still holding tight. "Jesus," he breathes.
You laugh, breathless. "Yeah."
"That wasâ"
"I know."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and even through the mask you can see the way his pupils are blown wide and his lips are slightly swollen from kissing you. He looks wrecked in the best way. His thumb traces your bottom lip. "We should probablyâ" You don't finish the sentence because you don't actually know what you should do. Stop? Keep going? Pretend this didn't feel like it just shifted something fundamental in your universe?
"Yeah," he agrees, even though neither of you moves.
You're still pressed against each other, his hand still in your hair, yours still on his chest. "This is crazy," you say. "I just kissed a waiter at my own event."
"I just kissed a guest when I'm supposed to be working." He grins. "Should we stop?"
You consider this for approximately half a second. "No."
"Good answer, love." He's leaning in again, his hand coming back up to cup your face, and you're already closing your eyes when you hear a loud crash. The kind of sound that makes an entire party go silent, and you both freeze. "What was that?" he asks.
You turn toward the main floor and your stomach drops. Director Kim, Chaewon, is standing in the middle of the dance floor, her mask askew, pointing an accusatory finger at a woman in a red dress. The woman is pointing right back and even from here you can tell they're both several drinks past professional. "Oh no," you breathe. "My boss. Oh my god."
Chaewon's voice carries across the gallery. "You have some NERVE showing up here!"
The woman in red gets right in her face. "I was INVITED!"
"By WHO?" Security is already moving toward them, and you're moving too, I mean you're already running or trying to, in heels and a floor length dress. You reach the stairs leading down to the main floor and you're halfway down when your heel catches on the hem of your dress. The snap is audible. Your shoe â your perfect, expensive, matched to the dress shoe â breaks clean off. You stumble, barely catching yourself on the railing, and hobble the rest of the way down with one heel and one bare foot.
By the time you reach the dance floor, Chaewon has grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and looks like she's considering throwing it. "Chaewon," you say, breathless, trying to step between them. "Hey. Let's justâ"
"She's sleeping with my husband!" the woman in red shrieks.
The entire gallery is watching now. All three hundred guests. HYBE executives. Press. Everyone. "I am NOT â" Chaewon starts.
"You absolutely AREâ"
A security guard finally reaches them, gently but firmly taking Chaewon by the arm. "Don't touch me!" She yanks her arm away and nearly loses her balance. Her mask falls off completely, and you try again. "Chaewon, please, let's just go outside andâ"
"Where were you?" Chaewon whirls on you and her eyes are unfocused. "You're supposed to be MANAGING this event!"
"I was â I amâ"
"Mrs. Choi was NOT supposed to be on the guest list!" She gestures wildly at the woman in red. "I specifically told you to make sure her name wasn't on there!"
Your blood runs cold. "What?"
"I sent you an email! Two weeks ago!"
You remember it now, an email buried in your inbox, unread, flagged as low priority by your email filter: Please remove Mrs. Choi from the final guest list. Personal reasons. "I didn't see it," you whisper.
"You DIDN'T SEE IT?" Chaewon's voice echoes. "This is YOUR job! This whole night was YOUR responsibility, and you â" Mrs. Choi interrupts, her voice icy. "My husband is Director Choi from HYBE. And I will be making sure he knows exactly how this event was run."
Your stomach plummets to your feet. The head of security appears. "I'm going to have to ask both of you to leave."
"This is ridiculous," Chaewon slurs but she's already being guided toward the door. You follow with one shoe on, one shoe off, your dress torn at the hem, your mask crooked, and your entire career presumably in ruins. He escorts you and Chaewon out through the main entrance and the cool night air hits you. "This is your fault," Chaewon says. "This whole thing is your fault."
"I didn't see the email â"
"That's not an excuse! You were supposed to be on top of everything!" She laughs bitterly. "God, I actually thought you were good at this. Director Han kept saying you were so lucky, so perfect, nothing ever goes wrong for you â"
"Chaewonâ"
"Director Kim. Well, congratulations. Something finally went wrong." She flags down a taxi and stumbles into it, and disappears into the night without another word. You stand there on the sidewalk, your dress ruined, your career probably over, and you think about the fortune teller: Your luck is about to run out. Maybe she wasn't kidding after all.
Inside, Jungwon watches the whole thing unfold with a mixture of horror and disbelief. He should find you and make sure you're okay, do something. But then he sees Yoon Jeonghan, walking toward the exit with his phone pressed to his ear, looking slightly irritated. This is it. This is Jungwon's chance. He hesitates for only a second â thinking about you, about the kiss, about how wrong it feels to just let you leave like that â but then reality crashes back in. He came here for a reason. He has a band counting on him, he has a CD in his pocket that represents two years of work. He can find you later, maybe, somehow.
Jungwon follows Jeonghan, keeping enough distance to not look suspicious. Jeonghan stops at the curb still on his phone, waiting for his car. Jungwon's hand goes to his pocket, feeling for the CD. He takes a step forward and a car comes around the corner fast and Jeonghan, distracted by his phone call, steps off the curb without looking. Jungwon doesn't think, he just lunges forward, grabbing Jeonghan's arm and yanking him back onto the sidewalk. The car blares past, missing them by inches. Jeonghan drops his phone. "What theâ"
"You almost got hit," Jungwon says, breathing hard.
Jeonghan stares at him, then at the street, then back at him. "I â you justâ"
"You weren't looking."
"I wasn'tâ" Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, visibly shaken. "Jesus. Thank you. That car would'veâ" They stand there for a moment, both processing what almost happened. Jeonghan bends down to pick up his phone, miraculously uncracked, and looks at Jungwon properly for the first time. "You work for the catering company?"
"Uh, yeah. Tonight, anyway."
"Well, you just saved my life, so." Jeonghan laughs shaky. "Thank you. Seriously."
"No problem."
Jeonghan's car pulls up and he opens the door, then pauses. "What's your name?"
"Jungwon. Yang Jungwon."
"Well, Jungwon. I owe you one." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a business card. "If you ever need anything, just call me."
Jungwon takes the card and his heart is pounding. "Actually," he says, pulling the CD from his pocket before he can lose his nerve, "I have something. If you have a second."
Jeonghan looks at the CD then at Jungwon, curious. "What is it?"
"A demo. For my band. It's called ENHYPEN. I'm their manager, and they're â they're really good, and I know everyone says that, but they are. They've been trying to get signed for two years, and I just â" He takes a breath. "I just want someone to listen. That's all."
Jeonghan studies him for a long moment and then takes the CD. "You just saved my life," he says. "The least I can do is listen to your band."
"Really?"
"Really." Jeonghan slides into his car. "I'll call you next week. We'll talk." Jungwon stands on the sidewalk watching him leave, his business card in one hand, the ghost of the CD in the other, and he can't quite believe what just happened. He almost got Yoon Jeonghan killed. Then he saved Yoon Jeonghan's life. And now Yoon Jeonghan has his demo. He looks up at the night sky and thinks, for the first time in his entire life â maybe his luck is finally changing.
The week after the masquerade ball is, without exaggeration, the worst week of your life.
Monday morning, you're fired. Director Han doesn't even look at you when she says it. Just slides a severance packet across her desk and tells you that "given the circumstances," it's best if you "pursue other opportunities." The circumstances being: HYBE terminated their contract with the company. Effective immediately, no future projects, no referrals, nothing. All because Mrs. Choi told her husband what happened, and Director Choi told HYBE's CEO, and suddenly the company that organized the event where the director got publicly accused of having an affair is no longer a company HYBE wants to be associated with. Chaewon hasn't responded to any of your texts. You're pretty sure she's blocked your number.
Tuesday, you spill coffee all over yourself on the subway. Your white shirt is completely ruined, and you have a job interview in twenty minutes. You show up looking like a disaster. You don't get the job. Your landlord calls on wednesday. "I'm so sorry," He says, and he actually sounds sorry. "But the building's been sold. New owners want everyone out by the end of the week for renovations."
"End of the week? That's in two days!"
"I know. I'm really sorry. It's out of my hands."
You spend wednesday night frantically searching for apartments you can afford, which turns out to be zero apartments, because you no longer have a job and your savings are pathetic. Friday, you move into Sunoo's apartment with two suitcases and a dying plant you've somehow managed to keep alive for three years. "It's temporary," you tell him, setting your stuff down in his tiny living room.
"Stay as long as you need," Sunoo says. He's being incredibly nice about this, considering his apartment is barely big enough for one person. "The couch pulls out into a bed. Kind of."
You test it. It does not pull out into a bed, it pulls out into a medieval torture device. "It's perfect," you lie. Saturday, you go to three more job interviews and none of them go well. One of them ends with the interviewer asking if you're feeling okay because you "seem stressed." You are stressed. You're very stressed. Sunday, you're sitting on Sunoo's couch (your new bed) eating cereal and staring at nothing, when Sunoo comes out of his room. "Okay," he says. "I've been thinking. Remember the fortune teller? At the party?"
You look at him. "How could I forget."
"Yeah." Sunoo sits down next to you. "I think she was right."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"Like, everything went wrong in your life. Literally everything all at once in one week."
"I got it Sunoo. What's your point?"
"My point is what if she actually did something? Like what if it wasn't just a prediction? What if she cursed you or something?"
You stare at him. "Sunoo. She's a party entertainer, not a witch."
"You don't know that!"
"I'm pretty sureâ"
"All I'm saying is, your entire life fell apart the night she touched your hand. That's suspicious."
You want to argue, but honestly? You're desperate enough to consider it. "Fine," you say. "I'll go find her and ask her to uncurse me. Happy?"
"Very." Sunoo grins. "See? This is why we're friends. You're willing to entertain my insane theories."
"I don't have a choice. My life is already upside down."
And across town, Jungwon is having the best week of his life. He finds twenty dollars in the pocket of a jacket on monday, a jacket he hasn't worn in months. Not life changing, but nice. Tuesday, he buys a lottery scratch off ticket on a whim and wins fifty bucks. The subway is delayed on wednesday, and he's annoyed until he realizes the delay meant he avoided a massive service outage on the line he would've transferred to. He would've been stuck underground for two hours but instead, he gets home early. Thursday, his landlord calls to say they're lowering rent for all tenants because of some tax credit thing Jungwon doesn't understand. Friday, his phone rings, an unknown number. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Yang Jungwon?"
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"Yoon Jeonghan. From HYBE. We met last weekend."
Jungwon's heart stops. "Oh. Yeah, Jeonghan! Hi."
"Listen, I listened to your demo. And I have to say â I'm impressed. Your band is really good."
Jungwon sits down before his knees give out. "Thank you. That â thank you."
"I'd like to bring you and the guys in for a studio session. See how you sound live, meet the team. Would next week work?"
"Yes. Absolutely, yes."
"Great. I'll have my assistant send over the details. Looking forward to it, Jungwon."
The studio session is scheduled for the following Thursday. Jungwon spends the days leading up to it in a state of controlled panic and the guys practice until the bowling alley owner threatens to charge them extra. But Thursday arrives and nothing goes wrong. Actually, everything goes perfectly. They arrive at HYBE's building with twenty minutes to spare and the studio is incredible, huge, with equipment that probably costs more than Jungwon's entire life.
They play three songs, their best three songs and they're perfect. Heeseung's vocals are flawless, Jake's guitar work is clean and emotional, Jay's bass anchors everything, Sunghoon's drumming is powerful. When they finish, there's a moment of silence and then Jeonghan starts actually clapping. "That is exactly what we've been looking for." The other executives are nodding, talking amongst themselves. Jeonghan turns to Jungwon. "Can we talk in my office?" Jungwon follows him down a hallway. Jeonghan's office is sleek with a view of the city. He gestures for Jungwon to sit. "I'm going to be direct," Jeonghan says. "We want to sign ENHYPEN. Full contract. Album deal, marketing budget, tour support. Everything."
Jungwon's brain short circuits. "You â what?"
"We think you guys have something special. You guys have potential, it's all there. We want to invest in it."
"How much are we talking?"
Jeonghan slides a paper across the desk. Jungwon looks at the number and nearly passes out. "That's just the signing bonus," Jeonghan says. "The full contract is much more comprehensive. But I think this is a partnership that could really work."
Jungwon stares at the number. It's more money than he's ever seen in his life. More money than he thought was possible. They say yes, obviously they say yes. The contract is signed the following week and the signing bonus hits their accounts two days later. Suddenly, Jungwon can pay rent for a year in advance. Suddenly, the guys can quit their day jobs. Suddenly, they're not a struggling band anymore. They're HYBE artists.
On Saturday night, they celebrate at the bowling alley, the place where it all started. They're loud and drunk and happy in a way Jungwon hasn't felt in years. "I can't believe this is real," Jake says, staring at his phone like he's checking his bank account for the hundredth time. Jungwon leans back in his chair, looking at his best friends, his band, and thinks about how one decision â one stupid, desperate decision to sneak into a party â changed everything.
On next Monday, you and Sunoo stand outside a shop in a part of town you've never been to before. The sign above the door says Madame Clarisse - Spiritual Advisor in peeling gold letters. There's a neon palm reader sign in the window that flickers every few seconds. The whole place looks like it hasn't been updated since the 90s. "This is humiliating," you say.
Sunoo pushes the door open and a bell chimes overhead. The interior smells like incense and there are crystals everywhere and velvet tablecloths. It's definitely mystical. Madame Clarisse emerges from behind a curtain. She's not wearing her party costume anymore â just regular clothes, jeans and a sweater, but she's still got the jewelry. Rings on every finger, about six necklaces. She takes one look at you and smiles. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
"You were?" You ask, surprised.
"Of course. You're the girl from the party. The one whose luck ran out." She gestures to a chair. "Sit." You do and Sunoo hovers behind you like moral support. "So," She says, settling into the chair across from you. "What can I do for you?"
"You can uncurse me."
"Unâ I'm sorry, uncurse you?"
"Yes. Whatever you did to me at that party, I need you to undo it."
She laughs. It's not a polite laugh, it's the kind of laugh that says she thinks you're an idiot. "Sweetheart, I didn't curse you."
"Then why did you say my luck was running out?"
"Because it was. I read palms. I see things." She leans back, arms crossed. "You think I have the power to just take away someone's luck? That's not how it works."
"Then how does it work?"
She tilts her head, studying you. "You kissed someone that night, didn't you?"
Your face goes hot. "That's none of yourâ"
"You did. I can tell." She's smiling now. "That's what did it. You transferred your luck to the person you kissed."
Sunoo leans forward. "She what?"
"It's rare, but it happens. When someone with an extraordinary amount of luck kisses someone with an extraordinary amount of bad luck â" She makes a gesture like she's balancing scales. "The universe likes balance."
You stare at her. "You're telling me I kissed someone and gave them my luck and they gave me bad luck?"
"More or less. The person you kissed needed it more than you did. The universe decided to redistribute."
"The universe can't just â"
"The universe does what it wants. You had more than your fair share of good luck for your entire life. Someone else was drowning in bad luck. You kissed them, and it balanced out. Simple. But this is just temporary."
"Temporary?"
"Well. Probably." She waves a hand. "Unless you want your luck back. Then you'd have to kiss them again."
You stand there, staring at this woman in her crystal covered shop, and your brain is trying to process what she just told you. That you kissed someone and that the kiss stole your luck. That the universe decided you'd had enough good fortune for one lifetime and redistributed it to some random person at a party. Your eye twitches. "So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "I have to find someone I kissed at a masquerade ball â where everyone was masked â and kiss them again."
"If you want your luck back."
"And if I don't find them?"
Madame Clarisse shrugs. "Then you live like a normal person. It's not the end of the world."
"My landlord kicked me out. I got fired. Iâ"
"Yes, yes, very tragic." She's still smiling. "But you're young, healthy, and you have a friend who clearly cares about you." She nods at Sunoo. "You'll survive."
You want to argue, but the words get stuck somewhere in your throat. Instead, you just stand there making a noise that's half laugh, half scream. Sunoo puts a hand on your shoulder. "Okay. We're leaving now. Thank you for your time."
"Anytime," Madame Clarisse calls after you as Sunoo guides you toward the door. "And really â good luck!"
The door slams behind you. Outside, rain is coming down in sheets, soaking through your clothes in seconds. You and Sunoo are standing under a tiny awning that's doing absolutely nothing to keep you dry. "I'm going to kill her," you say.
"She's a fortune teller. She probably saw that coming."
"Sunoo."
"Sorry." He's already scrolling through his phone, squinting at the screen. "Okay. Okay, I'm texting Riki right now. He can get us the staff list from the catering company."
You turn to look at him. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Sunoo, I am not â I'm not going to just â" You gesture wildly, and a car drives by too close to the curb, sending up a spray of water that drenches your legs. "Oh, come ON!" Sunoo jumps back just in time, completely dry. You stare down at your jeans, now soaked and clinging to your shins and something inside you snaps. "This is what I'm talking about!" you shout, throwing your hands up. "This is my life now! I get hit by puddles! My phone is in a storm drain! I'm living on a couch!"
"I knowâ"
"No, you don't know! You still have your job! Your apartment! Your normal, boring, non cursed life!"
"You're not cursed â"
"I kissed someone and lost my luck, Sunoo! That's a curse!"
He's quiet for a second, and then he says, very calmly, "So let's find him."
"Find him?"
"Yeah. The guy you kissed. We find him, you kiss him again, problem solved."
You laugh and it comes out a little unhinged. "Oh, sure. Let me just â let me just go through the entire city kissing every man who worked that event until one of them magically gives me my luck back. Great plan."
"Do you have a better one?"
"Iâ" You stop, open your mouth then close it because he's right and you hate it. Your life is a disaster, everything you touch breaks. You have no job, no apartment, no luck. And somewhere out there, some guy you kissed at a party is probably living his best life with your good fortune. "Fine," you say through gritted teeth. "Get the list."
He's already typing on his phone, texting Riki, pulling up something that looks like an event database. You stand there in the pouring rain soaked to the bone, watching him work, and you think about that guy. Like the way he smiled and the way he kissed you. You don't even know his name, but apparently, he has everything you used to have. And you're going to get it back.
And Jungwon was living like a king with the amount of luck you gave him. He moved out of his cramped studio apartment into a real place with two bedrooms and actual sunlight, a kitchen where he could fit more than one person at a time. The landlord had called him personally to offer a unit that just became available, said something about how Jungwon seemed like "good energy." He signed the lease the same day.
And now he has a driver, an actual driver who picks him up every morning and takes him to HYBE. Jungwon still isn't used to it, he sits in the back of the car and feels like he's playing pretend. The guys are living their dream, though. They're in a real studio now, not the bowling alley storage room, but an actual professional space with soundproofing and expensive equipment. Jake bought new guitars, plural. Heeseung got vocal coaching from someone who's worked with actual famous people. Sunghoon upgraded his drum kit and nearly cried when it was delivered. Jay keeps texting photos of expensive bass pedals to the group chat like a kid in a candy store. Everything is working out.
Jungwon knows it's the luck, he's not stupid. Things don't just fall into place like this. Not for him, not naturally. But he doesn't take it for granted. He remembers what it was like before, when every single thing was going wrong at the worst possible moment. He remembers being tired all the time, not from work, but from fighting against the universe. So yeah, he's grateful. He tips the driver well, he brings coffee for the studio staff. He says thank you for things people don't usually say thank you for. And he actually thinks about you sometimes. He wonders if you're okay. And, well, you are not okay.
The list Riki got from the catering company has forty three names on it. Forty three men who worked the HYBE event that night. You've been through twelve of them so far. The first guy you eliminated immediately because his Instagram showed he was engaged. The second one was eliminated because he posted a photo from that night and you could see his hands and they were different. You don't know how you remember his hands, but you do. The third guy you actually went on a date with. He seemed nice enough over text, and when you met him at a cafe, he was polite, average looking, completely fine. You kissed him in the parking lot after. Just went for it, quick and experimental. But, nothing. You pulled the scratch off lottery ticket from your purse â one of ten you bought specifically for this purpose â and scratched it right there under a streetlight while he watched confused. You obviously lost. "Thanks," you'd said, already walking away. "This was great."
"Wait, are weâ"
"Nope!"
The eighth guy was easier to eliminate. He posted a photo of himself and the mask he wore that night was completely different. The eleventh guy also agreed to meet you for drinks. You kissed him outside the bar and then scratched a ticket, nothing again. By guy number twenty, Sunoo started coming with you for moral support. "This is the saddest thing I've ever witnessed," he said, watching you scratch another losing ticket outside a restaurant.
Forty three names. You went through all forty three names on that list. Not all of them required dates â some you could eliminate from their social media alone, others from a quick coffee meetup where you could tell within five minutes it wasn't him. But you were thorough. Methodical, even. You checked every single person who worked that event and cross referenced their schedules and their photos or the way they carried themselves. You kissed enough of them to feel ridiculous, scratched enough lottery tickets to fund someone's gambling addiction, and came up with absolutely nothing. None of them were him.
By the time you crossed off the last name, you were sitting on Sunoo's couch at two in the morning and staring at the list. Your phone was on three percent battery â you'd forgotten to charge it, naturally â and your back hurt from the terrible angle of the pull out bed that wasn't actually a bed. You'd checked everyone, like literally every single person who worked that party and the waiter you kissed wasn't on the list. Which meant either the catering company's records were incomplete, or he wasn't actually staff, or the universe was playing some kind of cosmic joke on you that you didn't have the energy to appreciate. Which, to be fair, it kind of was.
The next day, you end up at the cafe near your old office without really planning to. It's a Wednesday afternoon, and you're unemployed so technically you could go anywhere, but your feet just carried you here out of habit. The place where you used to grab coffee every morning before work, back when your life made sense. And well, getting there is its own disaster because the subway stopped between stations for fifteen minutes because of "signal problems," and when you finally got off, it started drizzling, not enough to justify an umbrella, just enough to make your hair frizz and your shirt stick to your skin. You stepped in a puddle that was deeper than it looked. A cyclist nearly hit you and yelled at you like it was your fault. By the time you push open the cafe door, you're already exhausted and it's only two PM. The place is busy and there's a line at the counter, and you join it, and you pull out your card and tap it against the reader. Declined. You stare at the screen. "That's weird. Can I try again?"
"Of course."
You try again. Declined again and your stomach sinks. You know you have money in your account, not a lot, but enough for a coffee. You checked this morning. "Um, hold on." You pull out your phone to check your bank app, but the wifi isn't connecting and your data is throttled because you haven't paid this month's phone bill yet. The barista is still smiling, but it's getting strained. There are people behind you in line. You can feel them staring.
"Do you have another card?" The barista asks gently.
"I â yeah, let me justâ"
You're digging through your wallet which is a mess of receipts and lottery tickets just in case and old gift cards that probably don't have anything on them, when a voice behind you says, "I've got it."
You turn around. Jungwon is standing there, tall, dark hair pushed back from his face, wearing a nice jacket that looks expensive and he's smiling at you like this is the most normal thing in the world. "You don't have toâ" you say.
"It's fine. Really." He's already holding out his card to the barista. "Just the coffee, right?"
"Yeah, but â"
"Consider it a good deed for the day." He taps his card and it goes through immediately, because of course it does.
The barista looks relieved. "Thanks. I'll have that right out."
You step aside to let him order and your face is burning. This is humiliating, because you used to be the person who got free coffee for being the thousandth customer. Now you're the person who can't afford a four dollar drink and needs a stranger to bail you out. He orders something and then moves to stand next to you while you both wait. "Thank you," you say, because you have to say something. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know. But you looked like you were having a rough day."
"Is it that obvious?" You smile, kind of embarrassed.
"Little bit." He's still smiling and it's such a cute apologetic smile. "I'm Jungwon, by the way."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."
There's a pause, and you should probably just take your coffee and leave when it's ready, but something about him makes you stay. Maybe it's the way he's looking at you â not like he's hitting on you but like he's actually seeing you. Or maybe it's just that he bought you coffee and it feels rude to run. "Do you come here a lot?" he asks.
"Yeah, erm â I used to. I worked nearby."
"Worked?"
"Past tense."
"Ah." He doesn't pry, which you appreciate. "Well, it's a good cafe. Best coffee in the area."
"Yeah, it is."
The barista calls out your order and you grab it, and this is the part where you should say thanks again and leave. But he's still standing there and there's something about the energy between you that feels familiar in a way you can't place. Like you've met before, but you know you haven't because you would remember. "Can I ask you something?" he says.
"Sure."
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
Your heart does a weird little skip. "I don't think so. Why?"
"I don't know. You just seem familiar." You study his face trying to figure out if this is a line or if he actually means it. His eyes are dark and focused, and there's a small mole on his neck that you notice because you're staring now, which is weird. The barista calls his order, and he grabs his latte, and you both stand there for another second, neither of you moving. "Well," he says finally. "I hope your day gets better."
"Thanks. And thanks for the coffee."
"Anytime." He heads toward the door and you watch him go, and there's something tugging at the back of your mind, something you can't quite name. You pull out your phone and check your bank account â finally connected to the cafe wifi â and you see the Spotify fee. Because apparently your card declined not because you didn't have money, but because the bank decided to process a charge from three days ago that you'd forgotten about, and it pushed you into the negative. You close your eyes and take a long sip of your coffee. Of course. Of course that's what happened.
That night, lying on Sunoo's terrible excuse for a pull out couch, you stare at the ceiling and think about him. There was something about him that felt familiar, like you'd seen him before or heard his voice somewhere, and your brain keeps trying to make connections that don't quite fit. For a second you wonder if he could've been the waiter from the party, but that doesn't make sense. The guy who bought you coffee today was wearing a jacket that probably cost more than your rent used to cost, and he had this air about him like someone who's doing well, someone whose credit card doesn't get declined at cafes. The waiter from the party was working a catering gig and picking up shifts for extra cash, they can't be the same person. It's just your brain trying to find patterns where there aren't any because you're desperate and tired and running out of options.
The next week is a special kind of terrible. You go to four job interviews, and each one is worse than the last. The first company looks at your resume amd sees that you were fired and the interview is over before it really starts. The second place seems promising until the hiring manager asks why you left your last position, and you have to lie and you watch their face change in real time from interested to we'll-call-you-but-we-won't. The third interview goes fine until you spill coffee on yourself in the waiting room and walk into the meeting with a massive brown stain on your white shirt. The fourth place doesn't even bother to reject you in person, just sends an automated email two hours later.
By Friday, you're done. You've applied to thirty two jobs in the past weeks and heard back from eleven and been interviewed by seven, received absolute zero offers. Your savings account is running on fumes and even though Sunoo has been amazing, but you can tell he's getting tired of you sleeping on his couch even if he won't say it. You leave another failed interview on friday afternoon â they said they would keep your resume on file which is corporate speak for never contact us again â and you're walking down the street trying to decide what to do next when the sky opens up. A full downpour drenches you in seconds, you pull out the umbrella you bought at a dollar store last week and pop it open, and immediately one of the spokes snaps and the whole thing inverts itself. You stand there holding your broke umbrella with the rain pouring down on you and you legitimately cannot remember the last time something went right in your life.
That's when a car pulls up next to the curb, a black expensive looking car, and the window rolls down. "Hey!" You look over, and it's him â Jungwon. "You need a ride?" he asks, and he's leaning over from the driver's seat, looking at you with a look that might be concern or amusement but you can't tell.
You should say no and tell him you're fine, that you don't need hhelp from a stranger, but you're really soaking wet and your umbrella is destroyed, you have absolutely nowhere else to go. So you don't even hesitate, you yank open the passenger door and collapse into the seat, pulling the door shut behind you. The interior of the car is warm and dry, unlike you. Jungwon is staring at you. "You just got in my car."
"You told me to get in your car."
"I know, butâ" He laughs surprised. "You didn't even think about it. What if I was going to kidnap you or something?"
"Are you going to kidnap me?"
"No, but â" He's still staring at you like he can't quite figure you out, and then he shakes his head smiling. "You're either very trusting or having a really bad day."
"Definitely the second one."
"That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea." You wipe rain off your face with your sleeve which doesn't help because your sleeve is soaked too. "I got kicked out of my apartment â well, it's not my apartment, it's my friend's apartment, but he's out of town and I lost the spare key he gave me, so now I'm locked out. I tried calling him but he's not answering, probably because he's on a plane or something. I tried calling my mom but she's not picking up either. I had a job interview earlier that went terribly, and before that I applied to like six places and haven't heard back from any of them, and I'm starting to think I'm unemployable. And now it's pouring rain and my umbrella broke, obviously, because why wouldn't it, and I was just walking around trying to find a hotel that doesn't cost a hundred bucks a night because that's literally all I have left in my bank account." You take a breath. "So yeah. Bad day." Jungwon is quiet for a moment. His hand are still on the steering wheel and you realize you just unloaded your entire life story on a gay you've met once. "Sorry," you say. "That was a lot."
"No, it'sâ" He glances at you. "That's really rough. I'm sorry."
"It's fine. It's not your problem."
"Where were you headed?"
"I don't know. Nowhere. Anywhere. I was just walking."
He's quiet again and you can see him thinking, weighing something. "Okay, this is going to sound weird," he says finally. "But I have a guest room in my apartment. It's just sitting there, and you clearly need a place to stay, and â" He stops and runs a hand through his hair. "No pressure. Seriously. I know I'm basically a stranger. But the offer's there if you want it."
You turn to look at him properly. You can tell he is nervous because his grip on the steering wheel is a little too tight, and he's not quite meeting your eyes. "You're offering to let me stay at your apartment," you say slowly.
"Just for the night. Or however long you need. I don't know. I'm not trying to be creepy, I swear. It's just â you seem like you're having the worst day ever, and I have space, so." He shrugs. "If you want to find a hotel instead, that's totally fine. I can drop you off wherever."
You should say no. Every true crime documentary you've ever watched is screaming at you to say no. But there's something about the way he's looking at you, like a little genuine and a little awkward like if he is not sure he's overstepping it, and that makes you think he's not a serial killer at all. Or at least probably not. Either way, you don't have a better option. "Okay," you finally say.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay. Thank you very much, I hope you really donât mind."
He blinks surprised. "You're sure?"
"Well I don't have anything to lose at this point. My life is already a disaster so⊠if you murder me at least I won't have to deal with being unemployed anymore."
He laughs, startled. "Okay, that's dark." He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb. "For the record, I'm not going to murder you."
"Good to know."
"I'm a musician, by the way. I manage a band. And we just signed with a label so I've been real busy with that, and the apartment I'm in now is way too big for just me, so the guest room is just sitting there empty." He's talking fast now like he's trying to justify the offer to himself as much as to you. "It has its own bathroom and everything so you'd have privacy."
"Oh, you manage a band?"
"Yeah, they're called ENHYPEN and we just signed with HYBE actually, you know? The label?"
Your stomach drops. "HYBE?"
"Yeah. You know them?"
"I â yeah, kinda." You don't know what to say. I mean, what were you supposed to say? Yes I've worked for them before and I got fired and now I'm banned from HYBE events for life?
"Oh, that's cool. Small world." He says.
"Yeah," you say faintly. "Small world." You're staring at the windshield now and watching the rain while your brain is trying to process this. Okay, so he works with HYBE, which means he wasn't working at the party as a waiter â he would've been there as industry or maybe not there at all. So Jungwon is definitely not the guy you kissed, which is good. That would've been too complicated. But there's still that nagging feeling of familiarity, sort of, like you've seen him before. Like there's something you're missing.
He pulls into an underground parking garage and parks in a spot marked with his unit number, and you follow him to the elevator and up to his floor, and the whole time you're expecting this to be a terrible decision. But when he unlocks the door and lets you in, his apartment is just normal. Obviously very nice, but normal, it looks like someone actually lives here. There are shoes by the door and a jacket thrown over the back of a chair, and a coffee mug on the counter. "Guest room is this way," he says as he leads you down a short hallway. Jungwon opens a door to reveal a small bedroom with a double bed, a dresser and window overlooking the street. "Bathroom's through there, there should be towels and stuff. Help yourself to whatever you need."
"Thank you," you say and you mean it. "Seriously, this is â thank you."
"It's no problem, really." He lingers in the doorway for a second. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything, okay? And, uh, just so you know â I'm not going to like, bother you or anything. You can lock the door if you want."
"Okay."
"Okay." He smiles, a little awkward. "Well. Goodnight, I guess."
"Goodnight, Jungwon." You smile, fondly and grateful. He closes the door then, and you can hear his footsteps retreating down the hall. You stand there in the middle of the room, basically dripping water onto the floor, thinking about how bizarre your life has become. A month ago you were at the top of your game and running a high profile event and everything was going perfectly. Now? Now you're staying in a stranger's apartment because you literally have nowhere else to go. So you peel off your wet clothes, find a towel in the bathroom and take the hottest shower you've had in weeks. When you get out, wrapped in a towel, you realize you don't have any clothes to change into â everything you own is locked in Sunoo's apartment.
You hear a knock on the door. "I left some clothes outside the door," Jungwon's voice comes through. "In case you need them. They'll probably be big but I swear they're clean."
So you open the door a crack, and there's a folded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants sitting on the floor. "Thank you!" you call out.
"No problem." He calls back.
You change into his clothes â he's right, they're huge on you â and you climb into the bed, which is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in a month. You just lie there for minutes staring at the ceiling and trying to sleep. But your stomach is growling because you haven't eaten since this morning, and that was just a granola bar. You can smell something cooking from the living room. You could just stay there and avoid being awkward and try to sleep on an empty stomach â or, you could actually go out there and face the guy who's letting you stay in his apartment for free. So you get up and go out there. Jungwon is standing at the stove stirring something in a pan. He's changed out of his nice jacket into a hoodie and sweatpants. He looks comfortable, at ease. He glances over when he hears you come in. "Hey. Can't sleep?"
"Yeah, not really."
"Come in, I'm making fried rice. There's plenty if you need some."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, of course. Sit." He gestures to the small table near the kitchen. "It'll be ready in like two minutes."
So you sit and watch him cook. He moves around the kitchen with the kind of ease that suggests he does this a lot. He is tossing vegetables and rice in the pan, and adding sauce, adjusting the heat, and it smells incredible. "You cook a lot?" you ask.
"When I have time, yeah. It's cheaper than ordering out and I got used to it when I was broke." He grins over his shoulder. "You know, old habits."
"You were broke? Really?"
"Very broke actually. Like living off instant ramen and hoping the subway fare didn't go up kind of broke."
"What changed?"
"Well, lots of things, honestly." He plates the food and brings two bowls over to the table, sitting across from you. "And a lot of work, but mostly â luck, I think."
The word hangs in the air. Luck. You stare at your bowl of rice, your fork halfway to your moth and something twists in your chest. He said his life turned around recently because of luck â good luck that came out of nowhere. And yours fell apart at the exact same way. It's a coincidence, it has to be. You take a bite of rice and try to focus on the fact that it's delicious and not on the strange timing of everything.
When you look up, he's watching you with this easy smile and his chin was resting of his hand. You notice details you didn't catch before: like how his eyes are bigger than you realized, round and expressive in a way that makes him look younger than he probably is, and they have this slight upward tilt at the corned that reminds of you a cat. When he smiles, dimples appear, and there's something about the combination of his sharp jawline and soft features that's unfairly attractive. And well, you can't stop staring. Maybe being homeless and unemployed has made you forget how to act normal around people.
"So," he says breaking the silence. "What's your deal? Like before everything went wrong, what were you doing?"
"Uh â I was doing event stuff, you know? Planning and coordinating events, managing logistics. It was good, I mean I was good at it." You don't elaborate because you don't wanna talk about HYBE or the masquerade ball or how spectacularly everything fell apart. "What about you? How'd you get into managing a band?"
"I've known the guys for years. We all went to the same college and they were just messing around at first like playing at parties and open mics. But they were really good, and no one was taking them seriously so I just figured I'd help them out, you know? Book some shows and handle the boring stuff so they could focus on the music." He shrugs but there's pride in his voice. "And then it turned into a real thing, and we've been grinding for two years, like terrible â real terrible gigs and empty venues and labels telling me they're not marketable enough. It was rough."
"Well, but it seems that it worked out, right?"
"Eventually, yeah." He leans back in his chair and there's something vulnerable in the way he's looking at you now. "For a long time though I thought maybe we were just unlucky. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Like â I'd book a showcase and the venue would double book us. Or we'd record a demo and the file would corrupt. One time Sunghoon, our drummer, broke his wrist the day before a big audition because he went night rafting. Can you believe this guy? Yeah, anyways, it was like the universe didn't want us to succeed."
"That sounds awful, I'm sorry," you said even though you were smiling at how resilient he was.
"It was, but it also made us tougher, I think. Made us appreciate it more when things finally started working, you know?" He grins and there's that cute dimple again. "Although I'm not gonna lie it's nice not having to worry about whether my card's gonna decline every time I buy coffee." You laugh, but it's hollow because that's your life right now. He must notice because his expression softens. "Sorry, huh, that was â insensitive."
"No, really, it's fine. I'm glad things are working our for you." You smile at him because you mean it.
"They will for you too. I mean it." He says it with so much conviction that you almost believe him. "You seem like someone who's got their shit together, you know? Or had it together â you'll figure it out. I know it."
"You don't know that." You laugh small through your nose.
"Well, I have a good feeling." There's a pause and he's looking at you with this intensity that makes your stomach so something weird. You're very aware of the fact that you're sitting in his apartment and wearing his clothes and eating his food â and he's being so nice about all of it that it feels almost suspicious. Except it doesn't feel suspicious at all, it just feels genuine instead. "Why'd you get in my car though? Like you didn't even hesitate." He was being serious but he was also smiling, playfully even.
You think about it. "Honestly? I don't even know, I'm not usually like that, like I don't trust people that easily, is what I'm saying. But you seemed â" You pause, trying to find the right word. "Safe? I don't know. You just did."
"Safe," he repeats, something amused in his tone. "Well that's not usually the vibe I fo for but I'll take it."
"Really? What vibe do you usually go for?"
"Mhm, I don't know. Cool and mysterious?" Jungwon's grinning now, clearly joking. "Dangerously charming?"
"Dangerously charming?" You grin back.
"Too much?" You nod, but still smiling. "Okay, okay. I'll dial it back." But he doesn't, not really. There's this playful energy to him that feels effortless, like he's not trying to impress you but somehow he is anyway. "So," he says leaning forward slightly. "Since you're staying here, we should probably establish some ground rules."
"Oh! Ground rules?"
"Yeah, like, you can use the kitchen whenever. Help yourself to anything in the fridge â the wifi password is on a sticky note there, by the way. And if you need space, just let me know, okay? I won't be weird about it."
"Yeah, okay." You smile and nod.
"And â" He pauses, his smile turning a little softer. "If you need to talk or vent or whatever, I'm around. No judgment."
You laugh at that, but it's fondly. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
He doesn't answer right away. He just looks at you and there's something in his expression you can't quite read. "Because I've been where you are right now and I remember how much it sucked. And I wish someone had helped me out back then. SoâŠ" He shrugs. "Now I'm helping you."
You don't know what to say to that, because you're not used to people being king without expecting something in return and it's throwing you off balance. "Thank you, Jungwon. Really. I don't know what I would've done tonight if you hadn't shown up."
"Probably found a terrible hotel." You smile and he smiles back, and for a moment you just sit there, and it feels like the first good thing that's happened to you in weeks.
After dinner, Jungwon suggests watching TV and you both end up on the couch with a random cooking competition show playing in the background. He's leaning into the corner of the couch with one leg tucket under him, while you're on the other side holding a bowl of ice cream he gave you, and it's ridiculously domestic in a way that makes you feel both comfortable and slightly off kilter. He makes commentary about the contestant like "there's no way that souffle is going to hold, look at it," and you find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks.
The exhaustion hits you slowly though, and before you realize it, your head is tilting sideways and your eyes are getting heavier with each blink. The last thing you're aware of is the warmth of his shoulder under your cheek and the sound of his voice, but quieter now, saying something you don't quite catch.
The next morning you wake up in the guest bed. For a second you're disoriented, staring at the ceiling and trying to piece together how you got here. You sit up and realize you're tucked under the blanket, your phone plugged in on the nightstand, the screen showing it's fully charged. He must have carried you in here or woken you up and guided you, and either way he covered you with the blanket and made sure your phone was charging. The thoughtfulness of it makes you chest feel tight.
The smell of coffee drifts in from the kitchen so you get up, still waring his oversized shirt and sweatpants, and pad down the hallway. Jungwon's at the stove, flipping pancakes, and he's already dressed for the day with dark jeans and a sweater that looks soft but expensive, his hair styled in a way that suggests he actually tried this morning. He glances over when he hears you. "Morning. Sleep okay?"
"Yeah, really well actually." You lean against the doorway. "Did you carry me to bed?"
He stiffens. "You fell asleep on the couch and I didn't want to wake you up. I hope that's not weird." He says while he flips another pancake onto a plate.
"No, it's not â thank you."
"No problem." He sets the plate on the table along with a mug of coffee that's already poured. "I made pancakes. Wasn't sure if you were a breakfast person but I figured it was better safe than sorry."
You sat down, and the coffee is perfect and the pancakes are fluffy and golden. "You didn't have to do all this, Jungwon."
"I know but I wanted to." He leans against the counter with his own mug in hand, and he's watching you with that easy smile again. "I have to head out in a bit but make yourself at home, seriously. There's food in the fridge and the Tv remote is on the coffee table. And maybe text your friends? Let them know where you are. I don't want anyone thinking I kidnapped you."
You laugh. "Okay, yeah, I'll do that."
He finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the sink, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. As he passes behind you on his way to the door, he pauses, and you feel his hand on your shoulder â just a brief respectful squeeze, reassuring. "Good luck today, okay?" He says, his voice soft. "I mean it." And then he's gone and you're left sitting at his kitchen table with a plate of pancakes me made and the lingering warmth of his hand on your shoulder.
You wander around the apartment eventually. It's not spooning exactly, but more like observing. There are photos on the shelves in the living room, candid shots of Jungwon with four other guys who you assume are the band. They're laughing in most of them, arms slung around each other, and they're clearly close. You study Jungwon's face in the photos and he looks genuinely happy, in a way that makes you smile without meaning to.
Your phone buzzes and it's Sunoo. "Hey!" you answer.
"Oh my god you're alive. I tried calling you last night and you didn't answer and I thought you died in a ditch somewhere."
"I'm fine, I just â It's a long story." So you tell him everything about the rain, the broken umbrella and Jungwon pulling up in his car and offering you to stay at his apartment and everything you talked about. Sunoo is silent for most of it, which is unusual for him, and when you finish, there's a long pause. "So let me get this straight," he starts slowly. "A hot stranger offered you a place to stay, made you dinner, let you sleep in his room and then made you pancakes this morning?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure he's not a serial killer?"
"Pretty sure."
"Okay. Okay, this is insane. But also â wait. What's his name again?"
"Jungwon."
"And he works with HYBE?"
"Yeah. He manages a band."
There's another pause, and then Sunoo says very carefully, "Do you think he could be the guy you kissed?"
Your stomach flips. "What? No. He's a band manager. He wasn't working the party as a waiter."
"Because think about it â he said his luck changed recently, right? Around the same time yours went to shit. And he's being weirdly nice to you. And you said there was something familiar about him."
"Sunoo, that's insane."
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, the timing is very suspicious."
"No, he's not the waiter dude, he can't be. He has money and a nice apartment, he's managing a signed band. The waiter was working a catering gig, it doesn't even make any sense."
"Well, people can have two jobs."
You're quiet staring at the photos on the shelf. Jungwon smiling at the camera. Jungwon with his arm around one of his friends. Jungwon looking genuinely and effortlessly happy. "He's not the waiter," you say finally.
"Okay. If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Cool. But like â"
"Drop it Sunoo."
"Dropped." A pause. "Okay. But just so you knowâ" You hang up.
You meant to leave Jungwon's place that same day, you really did. The plan was simple: thank Jungwon for his hospitality and grab your things which was basically nothing, since everything you owned was locked in Sunoo's apartment, and find a hotel or a shelter, a bench, whatever. But then Jungwon came home that evening with takeout for two, and said "I figured you'd like it," in that casual way of his like it was obvious. So you stayed.
The next morning, he made coffee again and placed two cups without asking. You sat at his kitchen table in his clothes and it felt so easy that you almost forgot you were supposed to be leaving. Sunoo dropped your stuff on wednesday, what was left of it, anyway. And then you and Jungwon already had a routine by then. You'd wake up to the smell of coffee â he was always up before you and already dressed. You'd sit at the table scrolling through your phone while he ate standing up by the counter, checking messages, answering emails, muttering things like "Jake, please don't do that" into his phone without any context.
You felt guilty the first few days. You were literally a stranger living in his space and eating his food and taking up his bathroom. I mean, his guest bathroom, but still. But Jungwon didn't seem to mind at all, or if he did he just didn't care to say it. He just adjusted around you, making room for you, even. On Thursday, you tried bringing it up. "I should probably go back to Sunoo's," you said over dinner, he'd made pasta and it was somehow better than any pasta you'd ever had. "I don't want to impose."
He looked at you like you'd just said something genuinely confusing. "Why?"
"Because I'm living in your apartment? For free?"
"Yeah, and?"
"And that's weird and you don't really know me."
"Is it?" He twirled his fork. "I have an extra room. You needed a place, it's not that complicated."
"Jungwon â"
"Look, I get it. I'm saying I don't mind having a roommate. Specifically you." He pointed his fork at you. "You're quiet, you don't make a mess, and you actually watch good shows on TV. Those are the only three things I care about."
"Those are your criteria?"
"Yeah. High standards."
You laughed, he grinned, and that was the end of the conversation. So you stayed. But the bad luck didn't stop, obviously. Monday of the second week, you tried to cook breakfast while Jungwon was still in the shower. You burned the toast so badly that the smoke alarm went off, and it took you a few minutes trying to figure out how to turn it off, and by the time Jungwon came out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel and dripping water down his chest. You were standing on a chair waving a fish towel at the ceiling, and nothing happened.
"What happened?" he asked, his hair sticking up, and droplet sliding from his collarbone straight over the defined lines of his abdomen â eight perfect ridges, still glistening from the shower. Not that you were staring, anyway. (You were definitely staring.)
"I'm having toast problems." And that was all you managed to say.
He stared at the blackened bread on the counter, lips curving. "That's⊠a way to say it."
"Please don't laugh."
"I'm not laughing." Jungwon was absolutely laughing, low. He stepped closer and took the dish towel from your hand and reached up from the floor â didn't even need the chair, he was tall enough â fanning the alarm until it stopped. The movement made the towel slip just a dangerous inch lower on his hips and your eyes betrayed you again, dropping straight to the deep V line that disappeared beneath the fabric before you snapped them back up to his face.
But it was too late, because he noticed. "There you go," he murmured, his voice softer now like almost a tease, his eyes locked on yours for a beat too long.
Your face was burning, and you couldn't decide if you wanted to jump off the chair or melt into the floor. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He tilted his head. "I'll make breakfast, okay?" He made breakfast every morning after that. You didn't ask him to, he just did it.
Wednesday night, you were on the couch with your laptop pretending to look at job listings but actually watching Jungwon play guitar in the corner of the living room. He didn't know you were watching â he had his eyes closed and his head tilted back slightly, fingers sliding over the strings with this slow precision that made your throat go dry. The soft melody he was picking out wasn't anything you recognized; it was just intimate and unfiltered.
His shirt was loose, the collar slipping just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbone and the faint shadow of definition along his chest every time he shifted. His long fingers moved with precision in a way that had your mind wandering to places it had no business going. You watched him for a while longer than you should have. Way longer, actually. Long enough that your pulse was thudding in your ears and you had to actually press your thighs together under the blanket, for some reason. When he opened his eyes, he caught you staring, but he didn't flinch or look away. He just held your gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted in the tiniest knowing smile. He tilted his head a little, his hair falling into his eyes. "What?"
"Nothing." Your voice came out quieter than you meant, almost breathless. "That was nice." He smiled at that with the deep dimples, and went back to playing, but slower now, like he was performing just for you.
And oh boy â you were so screwed. Down bad and didn't even cover it. You were lying there pretending to scroll when you really were memorizing the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed of the soft exhale he let out between notes, or even the way his fingers looked wrapped around the neck of the guitar like they could wrap around anything else just as easilyâ Idiot. Absolute idiot.
The thing is: you knew you should leave. You knew it every single morning when you woke up in his guest bed. The luck wasn't coming back â you'd checked obsessively scratching lottery tickets and checking your horoscope and watching any sign that the universe was done punishing you. But nothing â you were still broke and still unlucky, but you stayed anyway. And it took you an embarrassingly amount of time to figure out why.
It wasn't the apartment, comfortable as it was, and it wasn't the food either, or the stability. It was actually Jungwon. It was the way he made you laugh without trying, or the way he remembered small things like that you didn't like your coffee too hot, or that you got cold at night, that you got anxious when you had too much free time. It was the shoulder squeeze and the good luck whishes every morning. It was the way he looked at you sometimes like you were the most interesting person in the room, even when the room was just the two of you eating takeout on his couch.
So yeah, you'd developed a crush on him. A bad one, really, the kind that made you hyper aware of every little interaction or the kind that made you smile at your phone for no reason after he texted you something stupid. The kind that kept you up at night staring at the ceiling replaying conversations in your head and analyzing his tone. It was pathetic, yeah, and you knew it. And you did absolutely nothing about it.
And it was a Thursday night when everything shifted. You were on the couch watching something neither of you was really paying attention to. Jungwon was on the other end scrolling through his phone. "How did you actually get the HYBE deal?" You asked kind out of nowhere, just curious about the situation in general.
He put his phone down and leaned back, thinking about it for a second. "Honestly? It was the most chaotic night of my life." He sat up straight and continued. "So we'd been trying for two years to get in front of anyone at a major label and nothing was working. We'd email or like, show up at showcases, leave demos with anyone who'd take them. And every single time, something would go wrong. Like that one time we got a showcase slot and I literally got hit by a bike on the way there. It was constant." He laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that meant it wasn't exactly that funny. "So I figured, okay, clearly doing things the normal way isn't going to work. So I said: I actually need to get creative."
"Creative how?" you asked.
"Well, I found out that HYBE was hosting this big event â a masquerade ball. And it was very exclusive, like invitation only, and all the big names in the industry were going to be there." He paused and you felt something cold start to settle in your chest. "So I got a job with the catering company."
Your own breathing suddenly felt very loud. You didn't move. "You got a job with the catering company," you repeated and your voice came out steadier than it should have.
"Yeah, a side gig really, I worked the event as a waiter." You couldn't believe his words and he kept going. "The whole time I was trying to find a guy named Yoon Jeonghan â he's HYBE's A&R director â so I could hand him our demo." Jungwon shook his head smiling at the memory.
You couldn't breathe properly. You were pretty sure you'd stopped breathing entirely at one point. "And did you find him?" you asked because you had to say something, and the silence could give you away.
"Not at first, actually. I spent most of the night just walking around trying to spot him, and thenâ" He stopped and laughed again. "Okay, this is going to sound insane. But I almost got him killed." He held a hand up before you could react. "Not on purpose! He just stepped off the curb without looking and a car was coming, and I just â I grabbed him and pulled him back. And after that, he was so grateful he actually took the CD was listening to it."
"That'sâ" you swallowed. "That's actually crazy."
"Right? The one night I needed everything to go right and get real lucky â I almost witnessed a hit and run." He laughed. "Yeah, but it worked out, he loved the demo and brought us in for a studio session, and the best is history."
You were staring at him. You knew you were staring at him and you couldn't stop because your brain was running through every single thing at once â the cafe, the way he felt familiar, the way he said I don't know, you just seem familiar â and it all made sense now. All of it. Jungwon was him. He was the waiter from the party. Jungwon was the guy you kissed. Jungwon was the reason your luck was gone. And you had been living with him for two weeks. And, accidentally-not-so-accidentally, falling for the guy. "Hey." Jungwon tilted his head, studying you. "You okay? You look kind of pale."
"Yeah I'm fine," you said too fast. "Just tired, I'm sorry."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I think I'm going to head to bed, actually."
"Okay." He didn't push, which was one of the things you liked about Jungwon, except right now you kind of wished he could because at least then you'd have an excuse to keep talking and to process this out loud, to said, wait, I have something to tell you. But you didn't say anything. You just stood up and walked down the hallway to the guest room, closed the door, leaned against it and immediately called Sunoo.
"I knew it, I knew it I fucking knew it!" He said. âSo? What are you going to do? You're going to kiss him?"
You opened your mouth then closed it. Because the thing was â yes. You wanted to kiss Jungwon. You wanted to kiss him so badly it was ridiculous. But the reason you wanted to kiss him had nothing to do with getting your luck back, and that was the part that was making your chest feel like someone was sitting on it. "It's not that simple," you said instead.
"Why not? Kiss him and get your luck back, everybody wins."
"Yeah, everybody wins but Jungwon! I don't want to kiss him for the luck." Silence on the other end. "What do you mean?" Sunoo asked slower.
"I meanâ" You slid down until you were sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. "I mean I want to kiss him because I want to kiss him because I like him, like embarrassingly much." You said that way too fast, and Sunoo kept silent. "Sunoo?"
"So you like him."
"Yes."
"The guy whose apartment you're living in."
"Yes."
"The guy you kissed at that party and took your luck away."
"Yes, Sunoo, that guy."
"Okay. Okay, that's â" He paused. "That's actually really cute."
"Fuck you mean cute?! It's a disaster, Sunoo! Because if I kiss him now, I don't know if it's because I actually want to or because I need my luck back, and he doesn't know any of this â he doesn't know about the fortune teller, he doesn't know I was the girl at the party, he doesn't know I've been living here partly because I'm trying to figure out how to get my luck backâ"
"Okay, slow down. When did you start liking him? Like actually liking him?"
"I don't know. Gradually? I think it started when he made me fried rice the first night and then it justâ" You made a vague gesture even though he couldn't see you. "Got worse."
"So you have a crush on him."
"I have more than a crush, dude, I think about him all the time and I memorize the way he laughs and I get excited when he comes home. Like yesterday he pushed my hair out of my face and I almost passed out, Sunoo! I almost passed out!"
"Okay so it's beyond a crush â it's a super crush."
"I know."
"Like, really down bad."
"I said I know, Sunoo!"
He was quiet for a moment, and you could practically hear him grinning through the phone. "So what's the problem, exactly? You like him and you need to kiss him. Seems like the universe is literally giving you an excuse to do the thing you already want to do."
"The problem is that it's not honest! I can't kiss him just because I want my luck back, that's using him."
"But you said you want to kiss him anyway."
"I do."
"So then it's not using him. It's justâmultitasking."
"That's not â" You took a deep breath and laughed despite yourself. "That's not how that works. Plus, what if he doesn't feel the same way?"
"Well, you said he makes you breakfast, carries you to bed, he gets you groceries. I think he feels the same way." You leaned your head back against the door and stared at the ceiling. From somewhere in the living room, you could hear the faint sound of Jungwon's guitar again. You were quiet for a long time after that just listening to the guitar, thinking about his hands and his smile and the way he said good luck to you every morning like he actually meant it.
So, needless to say, the rest of the week was pure torture. Now that you knew that it was Jungwon who you had kissed at that party, you couldn't stop thinking about it â how his lips felt, and the memory lingered in your mind, and somehow the fact that he was the most charming and gentlest man you've ever met, made everything even more devastating. When he reached past your for the coffee mug in the morning, his arm brushed yours, and your skins burned for ten minutes after as if he'd dragged his fingers down your spine instead. Or when he stretched out on the couch and his shirt rode up just enough to show that tight strip of toned abdomen, the faint happy trail disappearing under his waistband, you had to physically look away before you did something stupid like trace it with your tongue. You tried to act normal you really did. But knowing what you knew now made everything feel different. Every interaction had this layer underneath it, like this secret weight that made your chest tight and your pulse throb whenever he got too close. And he kept getting close.
Like friday morning, he leaned over your shoulder to show you something on his phone, and his chest brushed your back, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, and you almost choked on your coffee. He patted your back laughing, and said "You okay?" and you said "fine, went down the wrong pipe," which was such a lie but he didn't question it, just let the hand rest there a beat too long, his thumb brushing the edge of your shoulder blade like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
He caught you staring at him on sunday, while he was playing the guitar again, and instead of looking away like a normal person, you just said "What?" and he smiled slowly, dimples carving deep, and said "Nothing, just glad you're here." His voice dropped on the last word, his eyes flicking down to your mouth for half a second before meeting yours again, and the air between you felt thick enough to taste.
And you almost said it right then, almost told him everything. But you didn't, because you were a coward, and because some part of you wasn't ready to lose this, whatever this was. On monday, he brought something up. "I have something to ask you. The showcase for ENHYPEN, it's this friday. I want you to come."
You blinked. "To the show?"
"Yeah, backstage, obviously. You'd be there with me the whole time." He said it casually like it was obvious, like there was no reason you wouldn't want to. "I think it'd be good to have you there."
"Me? Why?"
He shrugged but there was something in his eyes that said that he wasn't quite serious but wasn't entirely joking either. "Things have been going really well lately. And a lot of that started happening around the same time you showed up."
You laughed like you couldn't help it. "I'm not bringing you luck, Jungwon."
"Aren't you though?" He tilted his head, half smile pulling at his mouth. "Think about it. Before you, everything was falling apart."
You thought about it. You thought about it a lot, actually, because it wasn't much of a coincidence at all. It was literally your luck, living inside him, because you kissed him at a party and the universe decided to redistribute. "I seriously doubt I'm your good luck charm, Jungwon," you said, keeping your voice light.
"Well, I seriously doubt you're not." He pointed his fork at you. "So come, please? For me?" He was faking a pout now, and he was adorable.
"But what if I make everything worse?"
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"I have a good feeling." He was smiling now, and it was devastating, and you hated how easy it was to say yes to him.
"Okay, fine. I'll come." You finally said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You smiled and took a sip of your coffee and didn't say that's because your good luck is literally my good luck that you stole when we kissed at that masquerade ball and you don't even know it. But you almost, almost did.
The venue was bigger than you expected â it wasn't a stadium or anything like that obviously, but it had real lightning and a real sound equipment and a proper stage. Jungwon walked you through the backstage area, nodding at crew member and checking in with the sound engineer, all while keeping one hand loosely on the small of your back in a way that was probably just him guiding you through the crowd but it felt like way more than that.
The dressing room was small and chaotic. When you walked in, all four of them were there: Jay was passing by the door, Sunghoon was sitting on a bench with his eyes closed, drumsticks tapping against his knee, Jake was lying on the floor, I mean literally on the floor, staring at the ceiling while Heeseung was looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his jacket for what was clearly not the first time.
"Everyone," Jungwon said, gesturing to you. "This isâ"
"Yeah, bro, we all know who she is," Jay interrupted without stopping his pacing. "Nice to meet you by the way, I'm Jay."
"It's notâ"Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, while you nodded at Jay, smiling. Jungwon looked at Jake. "Jake? Why are you on the floor?"
"I'm focused," Jake said.
"You're lying down."
"Yeah, I focus better horizontally."
Heeseung turned from the mirror and looked at you properly for the first time, and he studied you for a second, smiling. "So you're the reason Jungwon's been in a good mood lately."
"Iâ What?" Jungwon says.
"You literally smile now, like, at things. It's weird."
"I smiled before," Jungwon said flatly.
You were grinning and you couldn't stop grinning. Jungwon caught your expression and shot you a look that was half embarrassed and half please help me, and you just shrugged enjoying this way too much. Jake finally got up from the floor and dusted himself off, walking over to you. "Nice to officially meet you. We've heard a lot."
"All good things," Jay added quickly, glancing at Jungwon.
"Mostly good things," Sunghoon corrected.
"Okay, everyone out," Jungwon said herding them toward the door. "Warm up. Sound check is in ten. Move."
They filled out one by one, Heeseung even winked at Jungwon in a way that made Jungwon pinch the bridge of his nose, and then it was just the two of you. The room was quieter than it had any right to be at this point, considering a few minutes ago it was full of chaos. Jungwon was leaning against the vanity counter with his arms crossed, and the tension in his shoulders had shifted from manager mode to something else. "So," he said. "They like you, apparently."
"They were just teasing you." You sat down in one of the chairs, calmly, still looking at him. "You okay? For tonight?"
"Nervous." He said it simply. "This is the biggest thing we've ever done, so if it does well⊠it could change everything for us. And if it doesn'tâ"
"It will."
He looked at you. "You don't know that."
"Well, I have a good feeling." You echoed his own words back at him, and he laughed, some of the tension in his jaw loosened. He pushed off the counter and walked toward you. You just stayed there watching him move easily and unhurried. He stopped right in front of your chair, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him.
"Thank you for being here, I mean it." He said, his voice was quieter now and his thighs were bracketing yours.
"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."
He held your gaze for a beat too long, and there was that thing, that charge that had been building between you for weeks. You could feel it in the air and in the way his eyes dropped just for a second to your mouth, lingering on your lips, before coming back up to meet your eyes again. You moved then. Not toward him, no, but away â because you were nervous. And then, of course, a disaster happened.
Your foot caught on the leg on the chair on your way up, the chair rolled backward and you stumbled, your arms pinwheeling, and you were about to hit the floor when his hands caught you; one at your waist, his fingers splaying wide over the curve of your hip, and the other one gripping your arm. Jungwon pulled you forward into him, hard enough that you slammed right into his chest, your breasts pressing flush against the hard planes of him.
Both of you froze. His hands were still on you, one at your waist digging in just enough to feel like a claim, and the other one on your arm was sliding up to your bicep, thumb stroking once and slow. Your palms were flat against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat under your fingers pounding like it wanted out. You looked up and his face was just inches from yours, his eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted.
Neither of you moved, god, neither of you even breathed. And then, from somewhere outside the dressing room door, Jay's voice cut through the silence. "Jungwon! Sound check, let's go!" Jungwon closed his eyes, and you watched his jaw tighten, and he took a slow breath through his nose, like he was physically forcing himself to come back to reality, but he didn't even move his hands. "Jungwon," Jay called again. "Now man. We're running behind."
"Coming," Jungwon said, but his voice came out rougher than he probably intended, like the sound of a man on the edge, and he didn't take his eyes off you.
You should have stepped back or laughed it off, made some joke and let him do his job. But you kept your hands on his chest, fingers slightly curling into the fabric of his shirt, and his hands were still on you and you couldn't move. You couldn't do anything except stand there and look at him and want him so badly it physically hurt. He must have seen it on your face, the raw need, because something in his expression shifted like the restraint cracked just for a second â that's when he kissed you.
It was the kind of kiss that feels like something breaking open. His hand was sliding from your waist to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair and gripping hard, pulling you in, his mouth hard against yours and certain, like he'd been thinking about doing this for weeks now. Because well, he kind of was. And you were shocked, genuinely shocked, your eyes going wide for a second before your brain caught up with your body, and you kissed him back.
You kissed him back like you'd been starving for it because you have. Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt pulling him closer until there was no space left. His other hand came up to your jaw, tilting your head exactly how he wanted, and the kiss deepened in a way that made your knees week. His tongue was sliding against yours slow and deep, claiming every inch, and the sound he made low in his throat was quiet enough that only you could hear it, but it vibrated through your chest and straight between your legs, making you ache for him.
And then when he finally pulled back, not all the way but just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb still tracing along your jaw, then slowly dragging down the column of your throat. You could feel him breathing hard, his chest rising and failing against your hands. "Jungwon!" Jay's voice again, closer now, and you could hear the footsteps in the hallway.
Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut for a second like he was in actual pain. Then he let go of you and stepped back. "I have to go now, okay?" he said. His voice was wrecked, hoarse. He looked at you one time time, his eyes ranking over your swollen lips like he was trying to memorize you and burn the image into his brain for later. He turned then and walked toward the door.
"Wait," you said, but he was already gone. The door swung shut behind him and you just stood there with your lips still tingling, your heart hammering so hard you could actually hear it in your ears, and you pressed your fingers to you mouth.
You kissed Jungwon. Jungwon kissed you. And somewhere in the back of your mind, buried under everything in an almost insignificant thought flickered through: Did it work?
You were about to check like pulling out you phone or find a scratch off app, anything, when you heard noise. Commotion behind the door â security guys sprinting down the hallway outside the dressing room, someone yelling something you didn't catch it and the sound of walkie talkies crackling. You then opened the door and stepped out into the corridor and the first person you saw was Jake, running full speed.
"Jake!" He almost ran right past you but you grabbed his arm. "What's going on?"
He stopped out of breath and his eyes were wide. "Sunghoon's gone."
"What do you mean gone? Gone where?"
"Bro, we don't know. He was right there one second and someone said he fell into some kind of pit behind the stage and now nobody can find him and the show starts in ten minutes and we're literally missing our drummer."
You just didn't know how to react. "He fell into a pit?! Like a hole? How?"
"I don't know! He said he was looking for the bathroom!"
A security guard jogged past you both, and the whole backstage area had descended into this not so controlled panic with people moving fast and everyone looking at everyone else. You let go of Jake's arm. "Go, help them look, I'll find Jungwon."
So you turned the corner toward the main backstage corridor, and that's when you spotted Yoon Jeonghan. He was standing near the production booth with his phone pressed to his ear â he did not look happy at all. He hung up and started pacing, muttering something that you were pretty sure included several words you wouldn't repeat in polite company. Then he saw you, blinked and stopped pacing. "Y/N? What are you doing here?"
"I'm â it's complicated. I'm here with Jungwon."
He looked at you then and it looked like something was flickering across his face, maybe amusement, but he probably didn't have the time for it because he was already shaking his head. "Look, I found out what happened at the ball, and what they did to you, kicking you out like that, was completely unfair." He pointed at you. "If you want a job, I can make it happen. We have an events division and frankly you're way more qualified than half the people we have."
Your mouth opened and then closed. "You serious?"
"I'm dead serious, but right nowâ" he gestured at the chaos around both of you. "Well, right now I have a band that's supposed to go on stage in fifteen minutes and one of their members apparently fell into a hole. And I just signed theses guys last month."
"Okay, I can fix this."
Jeonghan stared at you. "Fix what?"
"This situation. Give me ten minutes."
He looked at you trying to figure it out what you meant. "Ten minutes."
"Yeah. Just â just trust me on this one."
He held up his hands. "I literally have no other option right now, so, cure. Ten minutes. Go."
And finding Jungwon in the chaos of that venue was harder than it should have been. You checked the production booth; not there. The main dressing room, also empty. The corridor near the stage entrance and even security, but no Jungwon. You checked the bathroom, the catering area, even poked your head into a storage closet just in case but nothing.
And then you finally spotted him near the loading dock at the back of the venue, sitting on a concrete step with his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. His hair was a mess, his jacket was halfway off one shoulder, and he looked like someone who had just watched his entire life fall apart in real time. "Hey," you said as you approached him.
He looked up. "Hey." You sat down next to him, and for a second, neither of you said anything. "Everything is falling apart," he said and his voice was flat and tired. "Sunghoon fell into some kind of maintenance shaft and nobody can find him. The lighting rig almost came loose during the pre show check. Jay's mic has been cutting in and out for the last hour. And the sound engineer just told me there's a feedback issue he can't figure out." He laughed, but it was hollow. "It's like it all started again. All at once." He dropped his head into his hands. "I thought it was over, I thought the bad luck was done."
You looked at him and your chest ached. Because you knew, you knew exactly why this was happening. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong, right on schedule because apparently that's how it works when the universe decides to rebalance.
And it was your fault. So you grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him toward you and kissed him again. You grabbed him hard enough that he stumbled forward, one hand instinctively coming up to catch himself against the step, and your other hand was shaking, and your eyes were burning in a way that had nothing to do with the dusty air. His hand came up to the back of your neck pulling you closer, responding almost immediately.
When you pulled back, you were breathing hard, and he was looking at you with this expression that was equal parts confused and completely wrecked. "What was that abâ"
And then the music started. Not the pre show stuff but the opening notes of their first song and the crowd erupted. You both turned toward the stage entrance, and that's when you saw through the side door, visible from where you were sitting and there, climbing up onto the drum platform from a maintenance ladder behind the kit, covered in dust grinning like an idiot, Sunghoon. He'd been in the maintenance shaft the entire time. The shaft that connected directly to the raised platform behind the drum kit.
Jake was already at the mic, laughing. Heeseung was strapping on his guitar, shaking his head. Jay caught Sunghoon's eye from across the stage and just mouthed something that made Sunghoon flip him off. The show was starting, so Jungwon stood up slowly, still staring at the stage and then he turned back to you. "How didâ" he started.
"Go," you said. "They need you."
He looked at you, at the stage and then back at you. "But I really want to kiss you again right now," he said.
"Later." You pushed him gently toward the stage door. "Go. Work. Be amazing."
He took a step backward still looking at you and that half smile pulling at his mouth. "You know we're not done talking about this right?"
"I know."
He turned and jogged toward the stage, and you watched him disappear through the side door and then you sat back down on the concrete step, alone, and pressed your hands to your face. And somewhere in your chest, something was cracking open. You stayed there for a minute, maybe two, trying to breathe normally, trying to think. Then you got up, wiped your face with the back of your hand, and walked back inside. You could see the stage from here but not all of it, just a sliver through the gap in the curtain. The crowd was already on their feet, phones up, and Jungwon was standing at the side of the stage with his headset on, watching them.
This was everything they'd been working toward, everything he'd been working toward. And it was happening because you kissed him, because you gave him back his luck. Your vision blurred and you blinked but it didn't help, so you just turned and walked away before anyone could see.
The apartment was too quiet when you got back and you stood in the doorway for a second, staring at the living room. Two coffee mugs sat on the table, one of them yours, the handle chipped from when you'd knocked it against the sink last week. The blanket you used at night was folded on the chair. It looked lived in, it looked like two people lived here. Because it did.
You went to the guest room and started packing and since you didn't have much it took maybe ten minutes. When you were done, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the far wall. The apartment was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen, so you thought about Jungwon coming home later, late probably, after one of his best nights ever and finding you gone.
You thought about the look on his face and your throat got tight. You found a notepad and you stared at the blank page for a long time before you picked up the pen.
jungwon, i'm sorry. i know that's not enough, but i don't know what else to say. i can't stay. i thought i could figure this out, but i can't. every time i'm around you, things get complicated, and i don't know how to fix it without making everything worse. you're going to do incredible things. tonight proved that. you and the guys are going to be huge, and you deserve all of it. you worked so hard for this. thank you for everything. for letting me stay. for the coffee and the terrible toast that one time. for being kind when i didn't deserve it. i hope you understand.
You stopped and stared at what you'd written and thought about adding more â something about the masquerade ball, the fortune teller, the kiss â but what would that even do? He'd think you were losing it and honestly maybe you were. You signed it with just your name and left it on the kitchen counter, then you grabbed your bag, took one last look around, and left.
Sunoo opened the door before you could knock. "I saw you coming up the street," then he looked at your bag and at your face. "Oh no."
"Can I come in?"
"Obviously, come in." Sunoo sat down next to you and didn't say anything. "I kissed him, everything fell apart and then I kissed him again at the venue, right before the show. And then everything started going right again. Because I gave him the luck back." You looked up and your eyes were burning. "And if I stay, if I keep doing this, I'm going to ruin his life because every time I kiss him, it switches. I can't do that to him."
"Did you tell him any of this?"
"No."
"So you just left."
"I left a note."
"Are you serious right now?"
"What was I supposed to do Sunoo?!"
"I don't know, maybe talk to him? Like an adult?"
"And say what? Hey, by the way, I'm the reason your life fell apart and then got better and if we keep kissing it's going to keep yo-yoing forever?"
"Yes. Exactly that."
You looked at him. "He'd think I'm insane."
"He probably already thinks you're a little insane. You've been living in his apartment for weeks." Sunoo leaned back, arms crossed. "He's going to come looking for you, you know."
"Then I won't answer."
"You're going to hide in my apartment forever?"
"If I have to," you said. Sunoo made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "You're the dumbest smart person I know. This is genuinely the worst decision you've ever made." Your phone buzzed then and it was Jungwon, and you and Sunoo looked at it.
jungwon: show was amazing. where are you? want to grab food?
Your chest hurt and flipped the phone face down on your lap. You didn't answer, you just sat there on the world's worst couch and tried not to think about the way Jungwon's hand had felt on the back of your neck. The way he'd looked at you before he ran to the stage. The way he'd said you know we're not done talking about this, right? And then your phone buzzed again.
jungwon: you okay?
You turned it off. And you were absolutely miserable for the next few days. You kept your phone completely off shoved in the bottom of your bag where you wouldn't be tempted to turn it back on just to see if he'd texted again. You barely left Sunoo's apartment, you sat on the couch with the blanket pulled up to your chin and stared at the TV without actually watching anything. Sunoo would leave for work in the morning and come back in the evening with takeout, and you'd eat because he was looking at you like he was worried you'd forget to, and then you'd go back to staring at nothing.
One day you finally turned your phone on just for a minute, just to see. Fifteen missed calls and twenty three texts, most of them from Jungwon. A few from numbers you didn't recognize â probably the guys, or Jeonghan. But you didn't read any of them, you turned the phone off again and handed it to Sunoo and told him to hide it somewhere you wouldn't find it.
Eventually you started to feel like a person again. Not a good person, not a functional person, but a person. You showered and you changed out of the clothes you'd been wearing for days straight. You sat at Sunoo's tiny kitchen table and drank coffee and stared out the window at the street below and thought about what you were going to do next. You couldn't stay here forever, Sunoo's apartment was barely big enough for him, and you were taking up his couch and his space and his emotional energy and it wasn't fair. You needed to figure out a plan so you called your mom and told her you were staying there for a while, and she obviously said yes.
You packed what little you had and tried not to think about the apartment you'd left behind, tried not to think about Jungwon. You tried not to think about the way he'd kissed you in the dressing room, or the way his hand had felt on your neck or the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth keeping. But you thought about it anyway, you thought about it all the time, actually. It sat in your chest like a weight you couldn't shift heavy and constant and aching in a way that made it hard to breathe sometimes.
So when the day came, you sat on a bench in the park across from your old building with your bag at your feet, an hour before your train to your hometown was supposed to leave. Sunoo had offered to come with you to the station but you'd told him no, that you wanted to do this part alone, and he'd hugged you at the door and told you to text him when you got to your mom's and you'd promised you would. Now you were just sitting, watching people walk by â couples holding hands, someone walking a dog. Just people living their normal luck-curse-free lives.
You thought about everything you'd had a month ago. The job, the apartment. the confidence that came from being someone who had their life together, someone people looked at and thought had it figured out. Thought about how you'd lost all of that in one night. But none of it â none of the job or the apartment or your carefully constructed life â hurt as much as this. Losing Jungwon hurt more than all of it combined.
You were standing there staring at the pavement and trying to convince yourself that leaving him was the right then to do, when you heard your name. Quiet and almost hesitant like the person saying it wasn't sure it was really you. You looked up and Jungwon was standing ten feet away and he looked wrecked. His hair was a mess and he had dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn't a good night of sleep in days.
He looked at you and his expression did something complicated â relief, anger, hurt, all of it at once. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he said.
You stood up. "Jungwonâ"
"You left." His voice cracked a little on the word. "You just â you left a note and disappeared, and I've been calling you for a week, and Sunoo wouldn't tell me where you were, and I thoughtâ" He stopped and took a breath. "I thought something happened to you."
"I'm fine."
"Are you though? Because you're sitting on a bench with a suitcase looking like you're about to get on a train and never come back." You didn't say anything because he was right, so he took a step closer. "Can we talk? Please. Just five minutes, that's all I'm asking."
"Jungwon, I can'tâ"
"Five minutes."
You looked at him, at the way his jaw was tight and at the way he was looking at you like if you said no he might actually break. "Okay, five minutes."
He sat down on the bench. You sat next to him leaving space between you, and for a long moment neither of you said anything. "Why did you leave?" He asked eventually.
You stared at your hands. "It's complicated."
"So explain it to me." His eyes were pleading.
So you took a breath and let it out slowly. "Do you remember the masquerade ball? The one you worked as a waiter?"
He blinked. "Yeah?"
You turned to look at him. "Do you remember kissing someone that night?"
He went very still. "Iâ" He stopped. "Yeah. I do."
"That was me."
The silence that followed was so thick. "You," he said slowly. "You were the girlâ"
"Yeah."
You watched him try to piece it together, watched his brain work through it. "So that's why you seemed familiar. That's whyâ" He stopped again. "Wait. If you knew it was me, why didn't you say anything?"
"Because it's not just that." You were talking faster now, in a rush because if you stopped you'd lose your nerve. "There was a fortune teller at the party. She told me my luck was about to run out and I thought she was full of it, but then we kissed, and everything in my life fell apart. I lost my job, my apartment, everything. And at the same time, your life got better. The band got signed, you moved into a nicer place, everything started going right for you."
He was staring at you. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying the kiss transferred my luck to you, Jungwon. I know how that sounds, I know I sound insane and I know you probably think I'm completely insane right now, but I swear I'm telling the truth. The fortune teller said it happens sometimes â when someone with a lot of good luck kisses someone with a lot of bad luck, it balances out apparently. And that's what happened to us I think." Jungwon didn't say anything, looking at you like he was trying to figure out if you were serious. "And then, when I kissed you again at the venue, before the show â I gave you the luck back. That's why everything went right that night. That's why the show was perfect. But it also means I took it away from myself again, and if I stay, if we keep doing this, it's just going to keep switching back and forth, and I can'tâ" Your voice broke. "I can't keep doing that to you. I can't ruin your life every time I want to be near you."
The silence stretched out. A car drove by. Someone laughed on the other side of the park. The world kept moving and you sat there waiting for him to say something, anything. "So you left because you thought you were protecting me. By disappearing without explaining any of this."
"I didn't think you'd believe me."
"You didn't even give me the chance, Y/N!"
You stood up and you looked down at your hands. "I know."
"Do you?" He stood up with you and his voice was sharper. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you made a decision for both of us without asking what I wanted. You decided I was better off without you and just left."
"You are better offâ"
"Don't." He cut you off. "Don't tell me what I want. Don't tell me what's better for me."
"Jungwonâ"
"I don't care about the luck." He was looking right at you now and his eyes bright and intense. "I don't care if it switches every time we're together. I don't care if everything falls apart again. I just want you to stay."
Your throat closed up. "You don't know what you're sayingâ"
"I know exactly what I'm saying." He reached out and took your hand. "I'm saying I don't care about any of it. Not even the band or the contract because it doesn't mean anything if you're not there with me."
You were crying now. You didn't know when it started, but your face was wet and your vision was blurred and you couldn't stop. "I'm going to ruin everything for you," you said.
"Then ruin it," he said simply. "I don't care."
"Jungwonâ"
"Stay." His voice broke on the word. "Please. Just stay."
You looked at him, at how you were completely in love with this guy and you thought about the train ticket in your pocket â the plan to start over, the clean break you wanted. And then you thought about his laugh, about the way he looked at you like you were the best part of his day. You were completely in love with Jungwon.
"I'm scared, Won," you whispered.
"I'm scared too, love. But we will make it work. I promise you." His eyes were glassy and he was looking at you with that look â that down bad look he gave you countless times before.
You were so tired of running. "Okay."
He blinked. "Okay?"
"Okay. I'll stay."
For a second he didn't move like he was afraid he'd heard you wrong, like if he reacted too fast you'd take it back. And then his face broke into this smile, the one that made your chest ache because it was so openly, devastatingly happy. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He pulled you toward him and you went, and then his arms were around you and his face was buried in your hair and you could feel him breathing, could feel the way his hands gripped the back of your jacket like he was holding on for dear life. "Don't do that again," he said into your shoulder. "Don't just leave."
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise." He pulled back just enough to look at you and his hands came up to your face, thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn't realized were still falling. His eyes were searching yours like he was checking to make sure you meant it. "I'm sorry," you said. "I should've told you. I should'veâ"
"Stop," he said gently. "Don't apologize."
"Butâ"
"We'll figure it out. The luck thing, all of it. I don't care how complicated it is. We'll figure it out together."
And then, finally, he kissed you carefully like he was giving you a chance to change your mind, but when you leaned into him he kissed you deeper. His hand slid to the back of your neck and his fingers threading into your hair, and the other stayed on your face. When he pulled back, it was only for a second. "Hi," he said, and there was that smile again.
"Hi," you giggled.
And then he kissed you again, this time with more confidence and more certainty, his mouth moving against yours like he was making up for lost time. You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up to his shoulders, then to his neck. He pulled back again with his forehead resting against yours. "One more," he murmured.
"You're keeping count?"
"No. Definitely not keeping count."
He kissed you again, and again, and again, and you didn't care that you were in public, that people were probably staring, that your train was leaving in forty minutes and you weren't going to be on it. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard, and he was grinning like an idiot. "I have no idea who has the luck right now."
You laughed and it felt like something breaking open in your chest, something that had been wound too tight for too long. "Me neither."
"Good. Let's keep it that way." He kissed you one more time and when he pulled away he kept his forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed, just breathing with you. "So," he said after a minute. "What do we do about the train ticket?"
"I don't know. Refund?"
"I vote for that option."
His hand sliding down to lace with yours and he looked at you like he was still trying to convince himself you were real. "Come home," he said. "Please. Come back to the apartment."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. I've been sure since the day you showed up soaking wet with a broken umbrella." He squeezed your hand. "I want you there. I want you to stay."
You looked at him and you thought about the place that slowly started feeling like yours too. "Okay, let's go home."
His smile was so bright it could've powered the entire city. He grabbed your bag off the ground and you walked next to him with your hand still in his, and he didn't let go the entire way back. Not when you crossed the street, not when you got to his building, not even when he had to dig his keys out of his pocket with his free hand. When you got to the apartment, he dropped your bag by the door and turned to you. "For the record," he said, "I'm never letting you leave again."
"Is that a threat?"
"Yeah, and I'm definitely kidnapping you this time."
You laughed and then he kissed you again right there in the doorway, and you kissed him back, and he didn't break the kiss right away. Instead he backed you up slowly step by step until your back met the door with a soft thud. His hands slid up to frame your face and he pulled back just enough to look at you. "God, baby," he murmured and he pressed a finger to your lips, then replaced it with his mouth with a quick teasing kiss. "I'm gonna kiss you so many times tonight the universe is gonna run out of bad luck and just start handing us infinite good fortune." He laughed softly against your mouth. "Starting right now."
Before you could answer he kissed you again deeper, his tongue sliding slow against yours. His hands moved, one sliding down to grip your hip and the other tangling in your hair, and he pressed his body flush against yours pinning you gently but firmly to the door. You made a small needy sound into his mouth and he groaned in response, pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips. "You're so perfect, fuckâ"
Your knees went weak and he must have felt it because his arm wrapped around your waist steadying you, and then he scooped you up like you weighed nothing. You gasped as your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips and your arms looped around his neck. "Easy," he said grinning as he carried you toward the kitchen. "I've got you."
He set you down on the counter but he didn't step back. Instead he stepped between your legs with his hands sliding up your thighs to rest at your hips. He leaned in close and said "look at me," softly, his voice dipping into that gentle command. You did and his eyes were locked on yours, intense, adoring, a little hungry, and he tilted his head. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured. "My pretty girl." His thumb dragged along your bottom lip parting it slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you like this."
He kissed you again while one hand slid up under your shirt, his palm flat against the bare skin of your back pulling you closer. You moaned softly and he rewarded you with a low hum, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth along your jaw down the side of your neck. He nipped lightly at your collarbone then soothed it with his tongue. "Tell me if it's too much," he said.
You nodded breathless. "I want you, Won."
His smile turned downright sinful. Jungwon kissed you again more possessively, his hands roaming freely now, one sliding up to cup the back of your neck and the other slipping under your shirt to trace the curve of your spine. You tugged at his hair pulling him closer, and he groaned into your mouth, hips rocking forward once, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you. He broke the kiss just enough to breathe. "Fuck," he whispered. "Are you okay? We can slow down. Or stop, whatever you need."
You shook your head quickly and your fingers tightening in his hair. "Donât stop, please"
His eyes searched yours for a long second. "Okay." He kissed you once more then pulled back just enough to look down between you, at where your thighs were still wrapped loosely around his hips on the counter. His hands settled on the tops of your legs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over the denim. "Can I touch you?" he asked quietly, voice almost shy despite everything. "Please?"
Your heart stuttered at the way he asked earnest and almost pleading. "Yeah," you whispered. "Yeah, you can."
His smile was instant. "Thank you, baby." He kissed you one more time grateful, then slid his hands down to the button of your jeans. He popped it open slowly and his fingers hooked into the waistband tugging gently. "Lift up for me?" he murmured.
You braced your hands behind you on the counter and lifted your hips just enough. He peeled the jeans down your thighs carefully so as not to rush, then he dropped to his knees between your legs right there on the kitchen floor and your breath caught hard. He looked up at you with eyes wide and reverent, hands resting on the outside of your thighs. "Youâre so beautiful," he said simply. "Look at you. All pretty just for me."
He leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the inside of your knee, just a brush of lips, and then another a little higher, teasing the sensitive skin with feather light kisses, occasionally letting his tongue flick out just enough to make you shiver. "JungwonâŠ" Your voice came out small and needy.
"I know baby," he murmured against your thigh. "Just relax for me okay? Let me take care of you." He kissed higher open mouthed now, sucking lightly just below where your thigh met your hip. His hands slid up to hook under your knees spreading your legs wider so he could fit himself closer. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but the way he looked at you made it feel safe instead of scary. He nuzzled the damp cotton of your underwear, nose brushing the most sensitive part of you through the fabric and you gasped. "Already so wet f'me," he said, voice low and awed. "Fuck, that's perfect. You're perfect."
He hooked two fingers into the side of your panties and tugged them down agonizingly slowly until they were off and tossed somewhere behind him. Then he looked up at you again, eyes dark with want but still so gentle. You nodded breathlessly and that seemed to unravel something in him. He leaned in and kissed you there, not diving in, not yet, just a closed mouth press right over your clit. Then another and another tiny reverent kisses. "You taste so good baby," he murmured between kisses. "Just from this. My good girl..." Finally he flattened his tongue and licked one long, slow stripe up your center. You moaned, head falling back, and he groaned in response. "That's it, let me hear you baby."
He did it again slower circling your clit with the softest pressure before pulling back to kiss like it was your mouth, and your hips bucked involuntarily. Jungwon felt the way your hips jerked up and just pressed his palm firmer against your thigh, keeping you right where he wanted you. The sounds were filthy in the quiet kitchen: wet, soft, the occasional quiet suck when he sealed his lips around your clit again. Your fingers tightened in his hair and he let out this low, pleased hum that vibrated straight through you. "Fuck," you breathed, hips twitching.
You were getting louder without meaning to and he didn't shush you or tell you to be quiet. He just groaned against you like the sounds were turning him on more. When your breathing hitched hard and your whole body tensed, he didn't speed up, he just stayed exactly where he was. Your back arched off the counter, a choked "Jungwonâ" slipping out as you came, thighs squeezing around his head, fingers yanking his hair hard.
He didn't flinch, he just kept licking you soft and slow through the aftershocks until you were whimpering and pushing weakly at his forehead. "Fuck that was so hot," he murmured, finally pulling back. His lips were shiny and his chin wet, then he stood up slowly leaning over you to kiss you, letting you taste yourself. You were still catching your breath when he broke the kiss. "You good?" he asked.
"Yeah," you managed, voice wrecked. "That was⊠yeah."
He smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth. "Good." Then he hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you off the counter and you wrapped your legs around him in reflex and he carried you down the hallway. He kicked his bedroom door shut with his heel and walked over to the bed, set you down in the middle, then he climbed over you shifting his weight, bracing on his forearms and looked down at your face for a second. "What do you want now, mhm?" he asked, then he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth. "I'm down for whatever you want, baby. Just tell me."
You reached up, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to kiss him. He let you, melting into the kiss, and when you broke apart you were both breathing a little harder. "I want you, so much," you said simply.Â
He exhaled through his nose a relieved sound, and kissed you again before trailing his lips down your jaw then your neck. He found the spot just under your ear and sucked lightly, humming when you shivered. "Me too, love. You're so fucking pretty, I can't get over it." Another kiss, lower, along your collarbone, then down to the center of your chest, right between your breasts, his lips brushing the fabric of your shirt. "This body⊠fuck, it's all mine tonight, yeah?"
You laughed softly and a little breathless, and he kept going, pushing your shirt up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered. Stomach, the dip of your waist, the curve under your ribs. "Gosh look at you," he breathed, lips grazing the underside of your breast. He kissed there, then higher, his tongue flicking over your nipple before he took it into his mouth while his hand cupped the other one. You arched a little, fingers tightening in his hair, and he groaned low against you. "Love the way you sound when I touch you," he said, switching sides, giving the same careful attention. "Makes me crazy."
He spent minutes like that and eventually he kissed his way back up, settling between your legs again, hard and obvious against you through his sweats. He rocked once slowly letting you feel him then dropped his forehead to yours. "Baby," he whispered. "I want to be inside you so bad."
You smiled and before he could say anything else you pushed at his shoulders until he rolled onto his back with a surprised little huff. Now you were the one hovering over him, straddling his hips with your hands braced on his chest. His eyes widened for a second, then softened while his lips curved intoa lazy smile. "Oh?" he said, voice teasing. "You taking over now?"
"Yeah," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him slowly and deep, letting your tongue slide against his until he groaned into your mouth. You pulled back just enough to speak against his lips. "My turn to make you feel good."
You kissed down his jaw, then his neck, mirroring what he'd done to you, smiling when his hips jerked up under you. "Fuck," he breathed, hands settling on your waist. "You're gonna kill me love."
You kept going down his chest, lips brushing over the cotton of his shirt first, and you could tell how much he liked it by the way his stomach flexed under every kiss. You slid your hands under the hem pushing the fabric up and exposing the smooth toned plane of his stomach. He had that subtle definition, just lean and strong, a faint happy trail started just below his navel leading down. You followed it with your tongue with a deliberate stripe right up the center of his abs and Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath, his abs jumping under your mouth. "FuckâŠ" he exhaled, voice wrecked. His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through gently.
You kissed lower, lips tracing the sharp cut of his hipbone then the other side and every time you got close to the waistband of his sweats you'd pull back just enough to kiss the skin right above it. "Baby," he murmured, half laugh and half plea. "You're killing me here."
You looked up at him through your lashes, smirking. "Good." He was breathing harder now, and you palmed him over the fabric with a slow drag of your hand from base to tip, feeling how thick and hard he already was. The outline was obscene and long enough that the head pushed against the waistband, thick enough that your fingers didn't quite meet when you wrapped around him. "So pretty," you said softly with your eyes locked on his.Â
He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan when you squeezed just a little. "You have no fucking idea what you do to me," he rasped biting his bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark.
You tugged the waistband down finally letting the elastic catch on the head for a second before you pulled it past. He sprang free and heavy against his stomach, flushed dark at the tip, already glistening with precum that beaded at the slit and slid down the underside in a thin line. You wrapped your fingers around him then you stroked once, slow from root to tip, thumb swiping over the head to spread the precum. Jungwon's head fell back against the pillow with a thud. "Shit â fuck, babyâŠ"
You did it again slowly and watched every reaction. "Feels good?" you asked teasingly.
"So fucking good," he groaned and his hips lifting into your hand before he caught himself. "Don't â don't tease too much, please. I'm already losing it." But you did tease just a little more. You leaned down and kissed the inside of his thigh then higher, right at the crease where leg met hip, letting your breath ghost over him without touching. He whined low and needy. "Baby, pleaseâŠ" His voice cracked on the word and his fingers in your hair tightened. "Please put your mouth on me. I need it. Need you." You smiled against his skin, then finally gave in and you licked a slow flat stripe from base to tip and his whole body jerked. "Oh god â fuck yes," he gasped and his voice breaking. "Just like that. Fuck, your tongueâŠ"
You swirled around the head with slow circles, then flicked the underside and he cursed under his breath, hips stuttering up. "Baby â shit, you're so good at this, fuck I love your mouth." You took him in properly then, sucking his length while your tongue pressed flat against the slit. He moaned loud and unrestrained. "Yes â yes, fuck, suck it like that," he babbled, voice wrecked and so, so vocal. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
You bobbed down further until he hit the back of your throat and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder on the pull up, hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. His breathing turned ragged, moans spilling out nonstop. "Fuck baby, you're gonna make me come so fast," he groaned, fingers flexing in your hair. You hummed around him and he practically sobbed. "Baby fuck, do that again. Please. I'm âshit, I'm so close already."
You picked up the pace just enough and your hand twisting at the base while your tongue worked the head on every upstroke. His hips were jerking in helpless thrusts and his voice cracking on every word. "Gonna come baby, I'm gonna come," he warned, desperate. "Where â fuck, where do you want it?"
You pulled off just long enough to whisper, "In my mouth." Then you took him deep again sucking hard, and he broke. "Fuck yesâ fuck babyâ" His whole body locked up and his hips snapped forward once as he came with a loud moan, spilling hot and thick down your throat. You swallowed around him working him through every pulse until he was whimpering from overstimulation, hand gently tugging you off.
He collapsed back and his eyes were glassy as he looked down at you. "Holy shit," he breathed. "Come here." He pulled you up immediately with his strong arms wrapping around you, rolling so you were half on top of him. He kissed you messy and deep, tasting himself on your tongue then softer hands stroking your back like he was grounding himself. "You're insane," he murmured against your lips, still catching his breath. You laughed quietly, pressing your face into his neck. "Still want inside you," he added. "Soon as I can breathe again."
You laughed a breathless giggle and leaned in to kiss his face everywhere. Soft pecks on his forehead and his eyelids then the tip of his nose, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes, smiling lazily, letting you do whatever you wanted while his hands rubbed slow circles on your back. "The universe must be confused as hell right now with all the kisses we've been throwing around," he murmured, voice still a little rough, his eyes opening n to meet yours with that playful glint.
You grinned, pressing one more kiss to his jaw. "I have no idea who's got the luck right now."
"Well I don't know," he said, smirking, "but I'm feeling pretty damn lucky."
Before you could respond, he shifted and his arms wrapped around your waist as he rolled you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling over you. He caught your hands and lacing his fingers through yours and pinning them gently above your head. Then he kissed your face just like you'd done to him: forehead, cheeks, nose, eyelids. "I'm so crazy about you," he whispered against your temple. "Like stupid crazy."
He released your hands but kept his fingers tangled with yours on one side, using the free one to slide under your shirt again. He tugged it up slowly and kissing the skin as it appeared until he could pull it over your head and toss it aside. His mouth was everywhere then and he took his time sucking lightly on one nipple while his thumb brushed the other, humming low in his throat when you arched into him. "Fuck you're gorgeous," he murmured between kisses.
He settled between your legs again, hard against you, and rocked slowly with his tip teasing your clit with the blunt pressure then dipping just barely against your entrance. Back and forth, slow drags that made you gasp, hips lifting to chase more. "Feel that? How bad I want you?" But then he paused as a small self deprecating laugh escaping him. "Shit, wait. I don't wanna push my luck here. Need a condom before I... yeah."
You laughed too, nodding. "Yeah, good call."
He kissed you quick then rolled off to grab one from his nightstand drawer. He tore the wrapper with his teeth, rolling it on with quick, his yes flicking back to you the whole time like he couldn't look away. Then he was back over you settling between your thighs, one hand bracing beside your head while the other guided himself. He teased again with just the tip circling your entrance pressing in barely an inch before pulling back, watching your face. "Ready baby?" he asked.
You nodded. "Please, Won."
He pushed in slow stretching you inch by inch, the burn intense as your body adjusted to him. He was thick, filling you up so completely that you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned low against your neck, "Fuck," he rasped. "You feel... so good. So tight around me. You okay?"
"Yeah," you whispered, rolling your hips experimentally making you both moan. "Move. Please move."
He did, slowly pulled out then deep thrusting back in, building a rhythm that had the bed creaking quietly under you. He kept that slow, deep rhythm at first pulling almost all the way out just to slide back in with a deliberate grind. The stretch was perfect bordering on too much, his thickness filling you so completely that you could feel every ridge. Sweat slicked between your bodies, and you could hear the quiet creak of the bed mixed with the wet obscene sounds of him moving inside you.
"Fuck baby, you feel so good," Jungwon whined, voice high. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut for a second before they fluttered open, locking on you with this desperate look. "So tight... God, I can'tâ I can't. You're driving me insane."
You whimpered back, hands clawing at his back. "Jungwon â please, harder... need you deeper," you begged, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. It felt so good it almost hurt, that sweet ache building low in your belly, but you wanted more, wanted him to ruin you.
He groaned loud, a shaky, obsessed sound, and picked up the pace with his thrusts turning sharper, hips snapping forward with a wet slap each time. "Like that? Fuck yes â tell me, baby." His mouth crashed against your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise. One hand slid down to grip your thigh, hitching it higher around his waist so he could angle deeper, hitting that spot that made you see white.
"Oh god â right there," you cried out. "You're so big..."
"Fuck I love this pussy..." He was babbling now completely unfiltered, hips stuttering as he chased the feeling, his free hand roaming everywhere, squeezing your breast, thumb flicking your nipple hard. You pulled him down for a messy kiss, both of you whining into each other's mouths. "Want on top, let me ride you â please, Won," you whined.
He let out a broken moan at that. "Yeah? Fuck â yes, baby." He rolled you both over and settled on his back with you straddling his hips, his cock still buried deep inside you and the new angle made you gasp. You braced your hands on his chest and started moving with slow rolls at first, grinding your clit against his pelvis. He looked up at you like you were a goddess, hands gripping your hips hard. "Holy shit â you look so hot like this," he whined with his hips bucking up weakly to meet you. "Bouncing on my cock... fuck, your tits â play with them for me? Please baby, wanna see."
You did, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples, moaning whiny and loud as you picked up speed, lifting and dropping harder now. "Like this?"
He threw his head back, throat exposed and bobbing with a swallow, a needy whine escaping him. "Yes fuck, just like that." You leaned down sinking your teeth into his shoulder enough to make him hiss and buck wildly under you, his hands sliding to your ass to squeeze and guide your movements. "Fuck yes, like that, gonna come if you keep, shit, baby."
You tightened around him on purpose as you rode him. "Oh god baby, fuck, do it again," so you did and he gasped and his voice was cracking, hips jerking up hard enough to make you bounce. His hands flew to your ass, gripping tight and then on instinct, he lifted one palm and brought it down in a sharp smack right across your cheek. You moaned loud and shameless. Jungwon froze for half a second, eyes widening like he'd just discovered something dangerous, then he saw the way your back arched, the way you clenched even tighter around him, and his expression shifted. "You liked that yeah?" he rasped while his palm was rubbing over the warm spot he'd just hit. "Fuck⊠you really liked that huh?"
You nodded fast, biting your lip. "Yeah, fuck, do it again. Please."
He groaned like the word alone almost finished him off. Another smack harder this time and you cried out, grinding down harder on his cock. "Goddamn, love, such a good girl for me⊠taking it so well." He squeezed your ass possessively then delivered one more controlled slap. "Turn around," he said suddenly, voice firm. "On your hands and knees. Now."
You scrambled off him and got into position with your ass up and your back arched. You looked back over your shoulder, while Jungwon sat up behind you, hands roaming over your hips, your waist, your back like he couldn't decide where to touch first. "Fuck princess, you're dripping down your thighs. Fuck, I'm obsessed."
He lined himself up again with his tip nudging your entrance, teasing for just a second then he pushed in slowly at first, and you both moaned at the same time, filthy. "So deep," you whined, pushing back against him. "Jungwon â please⊠fuck me hard."
His grip tightened on your hips and he started thrusting fast, really fast, slapping against your ass with every stroke, the bedframe rattled against the wall. "Fuck fuck, baby, listen to that," he panted. "You love it rough, don't you? Love when I fuck you like this?"
"Yes yes, oh gosh yes," you cried, pushing back to meet every thrust, hands fisting the sheets. "Harder please, Jungwon, don't stopâ"
He leaned over you with his chest pressing to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other slid between your legs. His fingers found your clit rubbing fast circles that matched the brutal rhythm of his hips. "Come for me again," he begged, voice whiny and commanding at the same time. "Please, baby milk me, I need it around my cock."
You were already close, the angle hitting that spot over and over and his fingers relentless while your moans turned into broken sobs. "Jungwon, I'm â fuck, I'm gonnaâ"
"Do it," he growled against your ear. "Be a good girl and come for me, yeah?" You shattered with your back arching hard, walls clamping down around him in fluttering pulses as you came with a wrecked cry of his name. Your whole body shook, vision blurring. He fucked you through it fast and sloppy now, chasing his own high. "Fuck baby, that's it, milk me, shit, I'm so close â gonna come â"
"Come for me, Won, please â" you whined, pushing back weakly.
That sent him over. He slammed in one last time deeply, his hips flush against your ass and came with a long, broken moan that sounded almost pained, his cock pulsing hard inside you as he spilled into the condom. His whole body shuddered, arms wrapping tight around you from behind, holding you close while he rode out the aftershocks.
He stayed buried inside you for a good minute after he came, bath of you breathing hard while his chest was plastered to you back and his arms locked around your middle. His face was tucked into the side of your neck and every few seconds he would press a lazy kiss there. Eventually he pulled out slowly and carefully, hissing a little through his teeth when the cool air hit him. "Fuck that was intense," he muttered as he rolled the condom off and tied it quick, chucking it toward the trash can by the desk.
You laughed, still face down on the mattress. "Yeah, it really wasâŠ"
He flopped down beside you, one arm slinging over your waist pulling you sideways so you were kind of snooping, as his fingers started tracing lazy patterns on your hip. Â "You okay my love? I kinda went feral at the end there."
You turned your head enough to look at him. His hair was a disaster, sticking up everywhere and his cheeks were super flushed, but he was smiling and it was disarming. "More than okay. My legs are jelly, though. And my ass is gonna remind me of you tomorrow."
He grinned with that boyish grin. "That's good, a souvenir." Then he leaned in and kissed your shoulder right over one of the little red marks he'd left earlier. "Sorry if I got too carried away. You just⊠you really make me lose my mind, you know?"
"Same here," you admitted, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair.
He hummed pleased and pulled you closer. "So," he said, as his thumb was circling sweet circles on your ribs. "Do you think we switched again?"
You laughed. "Honestly I have no idea. I wasn't exactly keeping track."
"Yeah, me neither." He nuzzled into your neck. "I was a little distracted."
"Just a little?"
"Okay, extremely. You're very distracting, baby."
You smiled, turning in his arms so you were facing him properly. His eyes were half closed and there was this softness to his expression that made your chest feel tight in the best way. "I don't think I care," you said quietly.
"About the luck?"
"Yeah, I mean I thought I did. I thought it was this whole big thing we had to figure out, but now I'm just like..." You trailed off not sure how to explain it.
"You're like what?" He was really looking at you now and his hand came down to reach yours and give a light hearted kiss on your palm.
"I don't know. I think maybe I had it backwards. I thought losing my luck was the worst thing that could happen to me, but then I met you and â" You stopped feeling your face heat up. "That sounds so cheesy."
"No, keep going. I wanna hear this." He was grinning now, that charming asshole grin.
"I'm not gonna keep going if you're gonna be smug about it."
"Smug? I'm not being smug," he smirked, teasing you.
"You're absolutely being smug."
"Okay, maybe a little." He kissed the tip of your nose. "But seriously. Keep going."
You sighed but you were smiling too. "I just mean... meeting you was lucky. Even if everything else fell apart. Meeting you made all of it worth it."
His expression did something vulnerable and a little overwhelmed like he wasn't expecting you to say that. His hand was on your face and his thumb was brushing over your cheek. "Yeah?" he said quietly.
"Yeah."
"You mean that?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."
He was quiet for a second, just looking at you, and then he pulled you closer and kissed you. It was different from before, just sweet and slow. "I'm in love with you," he said when he pulled back. "Just so you know."
Your breath caught. "What?"
"I'm in love with you." He said it again. "I think I have been for a while. Since before the showcase, probably. Maybe since you showed up soaking wet with that broken umbrella and got in my car without even thinking about it. Hell I fell in love with you at that ball even though you were wearing a mask and I didn't know your name."
"Jungwonâ"
"I know everything is messy," he continued talking faster now like he was worried you'd interrupt. "And I know everything's been kinda insane with the luck thing and you leaving and me being a mess about it, but I don't care. I'm in love with you. And I just, I wanted you to know that." You stared at him. Your heart was doing something cartwheels and your eyes were getting hot, and you didn't know what to say. "You don't have to say it back by the way," he added quickly. "I'm not â this isn't me trying to pressure you or anything. I just wanted to tell you because it's true."
"You're an idiot," you said and your voice was shaking.
He blinked. "That's not usually the response â"
"I'm in love with you too, you idiot."
His face broke into the biggest smile you'd ever seen. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Obviously. Why do you think I came back?"
"I don't know, I thought maybe you just really liked my pancakes." You laughed, and it came out wet because apparently you were crying now, and he kissed you again, still grinning against your mouth. "God, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he mumbled between kisses. "Luck or no luck, I don't care. You're it for me, you know that?"
"Stop, don't say that..."
"I'm serious, baby. You're it."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, you're it for me too." He made this sound like a laugh but still a sigh and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his hips, his hands settling on your waist. You could feel him already starting to get hard again beneath you, which was honestly impressive considering you'd literally just finished. "Again?" you said, raising an eyebrow.
"What? You're naked and sitting on me and you just said you're in love with me. What did you expect?"
"Yeah, okay, fair." You giggled.
"Mhm. So what do you say, my love? Round two?"
"You're insatiable."
"Only for you, baby."
And, well, turns out the universe has a sense of humor after all.
The band blew up, like actually blew up. ENHYPEN's live album hit streaming platforms and within a month they were getting requests for festival appearances and opening slots for bigger acts. Jeonghan called it the fastest trajectory I've ever seen for a new signing which Jungwon pretended to be cool about but you caught him grinning at his phone for like twenty minutes after that call. They did a small tour but sold out every show. Sunghoon broke another drumstick on stage and the fan video went viral. Jake started getting recognized at coffee shops. Heeseung got approached about a solo EP. Jay bought a car, which he immediately regretted because parking in the city is a nightmare but he was too proud to admit it.
And Jungwon? Jungwon was in his element. Managing them and keeping them on schedule, negotiating with venues and doing all the behind the scenes stuff that nobody sees but makes everything actually work. He was really good at it and watching him do his thing, watching him be confident and competent and completely in control, was honestly kind of hot. As for you, Jeonghan kept his word. He got you an interview with HYBE's events division and you walked in with a portfolio of every event you'd ever planned, including the disastrous masquerade ball, because fuck it, you organized that thing and it looked incredible even if it ended badly. They hired you on the spot with a decent salary and actual benefits. You were so back.
The apartment became both of yours pretty quickly. You'd officially moved in as a girlfriend about a month after and it was kind of seamless in a way that would've freaked you out before but now just felt right. Your plant claimed the windowsill in the living room and your books took over half the shelf. Your toothbrush lived next to his in the bathroom. He cleared out two drawers for you without asking and you bought matching Pokémon mugs as a joke except now you both used them every morning.
Sunoo came over at least twice a week usually to raid your fridge and complain about his dating life. He and the band got along great, which you should've predicted because Sunoo gets along with everyone. Sometimes you'd come home to find him and Sunghoon arguing about anything on the couch while Jungwon made dinner. It felt like family, the kind of family you choose.
But here's the weird part and you noticed it first, though Jungwon figured it out around the same time â the luck thing evened out completely. You weren't absurdly lucky anymore and he wasn't cosmically cursed. You were both just... average. The kind of normal where sometimes you'd find a twenty in your coat pocket and sometimes your card would decline at the grocery store for no reason. Sometimes Jungwon would hit every green light on the way to the studio and sometimes the subway would break down and make him late. One time you were running to catch the train and you tripped on the platform and Jungwon caught your arm at the exact same second. You both stopped and looked at each other and started laughing because what were the odds? Bad luck canceled out by good luck, or maybe good luck canceled out by bad luck, or maybe it was just two people in the same place at the same time and that was enough.
You were both at the amusement park on the edge of the city one saturday, those amusement parks with rides that were just rickety enough to be fun and overpriced carnival games that nobody ever wins. Jungwon showed up at noon with tickets already purchased and this grin on his face like he was about to surprise you with something amazing. And, well, it was a good day. You went on the ferris wheel first because he insisted, and at the top he kissed you with the whole city spread out below and it was corny as hell but you didn't care. You played one of those rigged basketball games and he missed every single shot and the guy running the booth felt so bad he gave you a stuffed bear anyway. You got soft pretzels that were too salty and lemonade that was too sweet and wandered around just talking about nothing, his hand in yours the whole time.
Later, when the sun was starting to set and the park lights were coming on, you were walking past the games and food stalls when you saw Madame Clarisse. She was set up at a small table near the back of the park with the same jeweled mask, same rings on every finger, same sign that said Palm Reading - $10. There was no line, though. She was just sitting there shuffling a deck of tarot cards and when you walked past she looked up and your eyes met. She smiled like she'd known all along how this would turn out.
You stopped walking and Jungwon noticed after a second and turned back. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you said, still looking at her. "I just â do you remember the fortune teller? From the ball?"
"The one who said your luck was running out?"
"Yeah. That's her."
He followed your gaze and when he saw her his eyebrows went up. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Madame Clarisse gave a little wave. You couldn't help it so you waved back. "Should weâ" Jungwon started.
"No," you said already pulling him away. "I think we're good."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I don't need her to tell me anything. I already know."
"Know what?"
You looked at him, at his ridiculous windswept hair and his easy smile and the way he was looking at you like you were the best part of his entire day. "That I got lucky," you said.
He laughed. "That's terrible."
"I know."
"I love you, you know?"
"Yeah, I know that too."
He kissed you then, right there in the middle of the amusement park. "Come on," he said. "I want to win you something at one of these rigged games."
"You're going to lose all your money."
"Not if I get lucky."
You walked away hand in hand, and behind you Madame Clarisse went back to her cards still smiling. You thought about all of it: the ball, that first kiss, the broken umbrella, the month you spent convinced the universe hated you, the moment you almost got on a train and left everything behind. You thought about luck and cosmic balance and fortune tellers who saw things coming before you did. But mostly you just thought about the way Jungwon's hand felt in yours, the way he looked at you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him. The way you'd kissed a stranger in a mask and somehow ended up here, with him, exactly where you were supposed to be.
Maybe the universe had a sense of humor after all. Or maybe some things were always meant to happen, luck or no luck. Either way, you weren't complaining. Just my luck, you thought. Just my luck.
taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @saeris-world @jayparked @solonenova @izzyy-stuff @gh9sty @xoenhalover @bambiens @hoonsocks @jaeyunflixÂ
© all rights reserved @/heejamas â do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works without explicit permission. these are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real-life actions, thoughts, or personalities of any public figures
this is so amazing im gonna eat it
âââ JUST MY LUCK; yang jungwon
when your impossibly good luck vanishes overnight after kissing a stranger at a masquerade ball, a fortune teller confirms what sounds impossible: you transferred it to someone who needed it more. now you have to find jungwon who accidentally stole your fortune, except you start to think that maybe meeting him was the luckiest thing that ever happened to you.
â pairing: jungwon x fem!reader | â genre: luck swap au, romcom, fluff, crack, strangers to lovers, slowburn, roommates to lovers; smut (mdni) | â playlist: just my luck - mcfly; no control - one direction; t-shirt weather - circa waves; whisper for the choir - the fratellis; just like a movie - wallows | â word count: 33k
â warnings: smut (mdni!!!!), unemployment lollll; soft down jungwon, switch jungwon, mutual pining, power play, praise kink, oral m&f receiving, piv, light spanking, protected sex
â ronnie's notes: guys iâve been keeping this plot hostage for like six months at least i actually started writing it as a smau but then i gave up because i got lazy just like with every smau iâve ever made (except nicest guy i miss my child then i sat there and thought wait this would work way better as a written fic right??? idk it just made sense in my head!!! so anyway she is finally here đ«¶ my second jungwon fic!!! i really hope you guys like it because iâm lowkey attached to this one đ„č itâs inspired by the movie just my luck btw!! and if youâve never seen it i SWEAR itâs sooo cute you need to watch it. mcfly was one of my favorite bands growing up so that movie has a special place in my heart and i basically wrote mcfly as enhypen LMAOO anyway thatâs it i hope you enjoy the story đ
YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN LUCKY. Every morning you wake up exactly one minute before your alarm goes off. The coffee shop always has your order ready when you walk in even though you never call ahead. You find money in jacket pockets you forgot about. Traffic lights turn green right as you approach them. When it rains, it starts the moment you step inside. Your friends joke that you were born under a lucky star, but it's more than that. It's like the universe decided you were its favorite, and it's been making sure you know it ever since.
And this morning is no different. You're running late for work â or you would be, if the subway train hadn't been delayed by exactly the amount of time you needed to make it to the platform. You slip through the closing doors with seconds to spare, and someone immediately stands up offering you their seat. At work, your boss announces that the company's landing a huge new client, and they want you on the project. You find a twenty dollar bill on the ground during your lunch break.
It's not magic, it's just how your life works. And across the city, Yang Jungwon is having the worst day of his life.
Actually, that's not quite right. He's having the worst day of his life so far, which is saying something, because yesterday was pretty bad too. And the day before that. And the day before that too.
Jungwon is a band manager, which sounds cooler than it actually is. He represents ENHYPEN: Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Jake; four guys with genuine talent and absolutely zero luck in the industry. They've been trying to get a record deal for two years now, and every single opportunity has somehow slipped through their fingers at the last possible second. Like today, he was supposed to have a meeting with a major label. Supposed to, because Jungwon woke up to a dead phone battery (he'd definitely plugged it in), missed his alarm, and then got stuck in traffic caused by a water main break that, according to the news, had a "one in a million chance of happening there." By the time he arrived at the venue, drenched from the sudden downpour that started the second he left his apartment, the label executives were already gone. "They waited thirty minutes," the venue manager told him, not unkindly. "I'm sorry, man."
Now Jungwon sits in a coffee shop, dripping rainwater onto the floor and staring at his laptop screen. His email inbox is full of rejections. His coffee tastes burnt, the cafe's wifi keeps cutting out. And when his phone buzzes with a text from Jay: Howd it go? Jungwon doesn't have the heart to respond yet. He runs a hand through his wet hair and closes his eyes. Somewhere out there, he thinks, someone must be using up all the good luck in the world. Somewhere out there, someone has to be.
And as you arrive at the office, the elevator dings right as you approach it and doors slide open like it was waiting just for you. You step inside and you continue up to the fifth floor, where the marketing agency you work for occupies the entire level. The glass doors swing open and you're immediately hit with the chaos that comes with planning high profile events in the city. Your desk is right by the window, which you'd worried about when you first started because of the glare, but somehow the sun never hits your screen and you have a fire view of the city skylines.
You drop your bag on your chair and head to the break room for water. Sunoo is already there, fighting with the coffee machine. "This thing hates me," he says while smacking the side of it. "I swear it only works for you."
"Want me to try?"
"Please." You press the same buttons he was pressing and the machine immediately whirs to life, dispensing espresso into his cup. Sunoo stares at it. "I don't understand your life."
"Maybe you just have to ask nicely."
"I literally said please three times." He takes his coffee anyway shaking his head. "Did you see the email? We have a meeting with Director Kim in twenty minutes."
You hadn't seen it, but when you check your phone the notification is right there, sent ten minutes ago. Back at your desk, you pull up the project files you'd been working on yesterday. Yunjin rolls her chair over from the adjacent desk, holding out a glazed donut. "They were giving these out in the lobby. Grabbed you one."
"Thanks, Yunjin." You take it and it's still warm. "You're the best."
"I know." She grins. "So, any idea what the meeting's about?"
"No clue."
"I heard it's something big," Riki says, appearing behind you both. The intern is holding a stack of folders that looks about two seconds from toppling over. "Like, really big."
"Everything's big to you," Sunoo says. "You've been here for three weeks."
"Three weeks and two days," Riki corrects. "And I'm just saying, Director Kim only calls meetings like this when it's important."
He's not wrong. Director Kim usually communicates through email or quick desk drop bys. Formal meetings mean something significant is happening. So you make your way to the conference room, it has floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Director Kim is already there, sitting at the head of the table with her tablet and a cup of tea. "Good, you're all here," she says as you file in. "Sit down. We need to talk about HYBE." You exchange glances with Sunoo. HYBE is huge â one of the biggest music labels in the industry. Your agency has worked with them before, but only on smaller projects. Director Kim pulls up something on the screen at the front of the room. It's a preliminary event outline, and the budget number at the bottom makes your eyes widen.
"HYBE is launching a new initiative," she continues. "They're hosting a masquerade ball to introduce upcoming artists, network with industry professionals, and make a statement about their brand direction. They want it elegant, exclusive, and flawless. The event is in six weeks." Six weeks is tight for something this scale, but not impossible. "If we get this, it'll be the biggest project we have handled all year." Director Kim looks directly at you. "I want you to lead this."
The words hang in the air for a moment. "Me?" you ask.
"You." She sets down her tablet. "You've been here for two years, and every event you've touched has gone off without a single issue. I don't know how you do it, but clients love you, vendors love you, and somehow everything just works when you're in charge. Sunoo, you'll be second lead. Yunjin, you're on creative direction and vendor coordination. Riki, you'll support where needed and learn as much as possible. But this is her project. She makes the final calls."
You feel Yunjin nudge your foot under the table, a silent congratulations. "The masquerade theme is non negotiable," Director Kim continues, pulling up mood boards on the screen. "HYBE wants sophisticated, mysterious and high end. Think Venetian carnival meets modern luxury. There will be approximately three hundred guests, including artists, executives, press, and investors. The venue needs to be secured by end of this week," she says. "Catering, entertainment, decor, security, invitations â all of it has to be perfect. HYBE's reputation is on the line, which means ours is too." She looks at each of you in turn. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this. It's going to be intense. But if anyone can pull this off, it's this team." Her eyes land on you again. "Especially you. I've seen you make impossible things happen. So, what do you say?"
What do you say? This is the kind of opportunity people wait years for. The kind that could define your entire career. "I'm in," you say obviously.
Back at your desk, you open your email, and sure enough, there's already a message waiting from Director Kim with all the project files. You start scrolling through, taking in venue options and budget breakdowns. Sunoo grins next to you. "What do you think the odds are that everything goes smoothly?"
You laugh. "Pretty good, probably." And you mean it, because things always do. And that was the exact opposite of how things usually happened to Jungwon.
The cafe kicked him out after the wifi died for the third time â apparently, his presence was "disrupting the router," which doesn't even make sense but also sounds exactly like something that would happen to him. Now he's standing outside the 7 Eleven near his apartment, trying to figure out how to tell the guys that they've officially lost their best shot at a record deal. His phone rings and it's Jay. "Tell me something good," Jay says immediately.
"I'm alive?"
"Jungwon."
"They left before I got there." Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose. "Water main break, traffic, rain â the use."
There's a long silence on the other end. Then: "The use? I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and you're going to come to the bowling alley so we can all yell at you."
"I have a shift in an hour anyway."
"Perfect. Bring food. The vending machine ate Heeseung's money again." And the line goes dead.
Jungwon buys four bags of chips and a pack of energy drinks with the last cash in his wallet, and the cashier gives him the wrong change and he doesn't bother correcting her. At this point, it's expected. The bowling alley is not the worst place Jungwon's ever worked but it's close. The carpet is a geometric nightmare from the eighties, half the lanes have technical issues, and the sound system shorts out every other week. But the owner lets them use the back room for band practice as long as Jungwon keeps everything running, so he fixes bowling shoes, unjams pin setters, and pretends he knows what he's doing with electrical wiring. When he arrives, Jake is trying to kick open the storage room door. "It's stuck again," Jake announces, slamming his shoulder against it.
"Stop, you're going to break it." Jungwon drops the snacks on the front counter and heads over. He jiggles the handle, pulls instead of pushes and the door swings open easily.
Jake stares at him. "I tried that."
"Sure you did."
Inside, Sunghoon and Heeseung are setting up their equipment in the cramped space between old bowling balls and stacks of rental shoes. There's barely enough room for the drum kit, two guitars, and the microphone stand, but they make it work. "Oh good, you brought food," Heeseung says, immediately abandoning his guitar to grab a bag of chips. "The vending machine robbed me."
"So I've been told."
"Did he also tell you that Sunghoon broke a drumstick on the second song yesterday?"
"I didn't break it," Sunghoon protests from behind the kit. "It broke itself."
"Sticks don't just break themselves, Sunghoon," Jake says.
"This one did. It was defective."
"You hit the cymbal too hard."
"That's literally my job! I'm the drummer!"
Jungwon collapses into a folding chair that wobbles dangerously under his weight. Jay emerges from the tiny bathroom drying his hands on his jeans. "So," Jay says, sitting on an overturned bucket. "We're back to square one."
"Square zero," Jake corrects. "Square one implies we made progress at some point."
"We've made progress," Heeseung argues. "We're way better than we were a year ago."
"Cool. Still broke and unknown, though."
"Thanks for that, Sunghoon. Really motivating." Jungwon says.
Jake cracks open an energy drink. "What about that other label? The one Jungwon emailed last month?"
"Rejected us two weeks ago," Jungwon says flatly. "I didn't want to bring it up."
"How many is that now?" Sunghoon asks.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Not really, no."
Heeseung tears open his chip bag with too much force and half the contents spill onto the floor. "This is fine. Everything is fine."
"Nothing about this is fine," Jake says, but he's grinning. "We're a struggling band practicing in a bowling alley that smells like feet."
"It's character building," Jay offers.
"I have enough character. I want a record deal."
Jungwon leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. This is his life now. Working a dead end job at a bowling alley, managing a band that can't catch a break and somehow always being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then his phone buzzes. He checks it, hoping for something good, literally anything good. It's an email from his landlord. Rent is going up next month. "You good?" Jay asks.
"Rent increase."
"Of course it is." Jay tosses him an energy drink. "Drink that. You look dead."
"I feel dead."
Sunghoon taps his drumsticks together. "Okay, pity party's over. We practicing or what?"
"What's the point?" Jake asks. "Not like anyone's going to hear us."
"The point," Heeseung says, picking up his guitar, "is that we're good, and eventually someone's going to notice. Right, Jungwon?"
Jungwon opens his eyes. All four of them are looking at him like he has answers. He doesn't. He really, really doesn't. "Right," he says anyway, because that's what managers do. "Someone's going to notice."
"There we go. Inspirational leadership." Jay picks up his bass. "Let's run through the new song. The one Heeseung wrote."
"It's not done yet," Heeseung protests.
"Then we'll workshop it."
They launch into the song, and it actually sounds good. For a few minutes, Jungwon lets himself believe that maybe, possibly, things could work out. Then the power cuts out. The music dies instantly. The lights flicker and stay off. "Are you kidding me right now?" Sunghoon's voice comes from the darkness.
Jungwon pulls out his phone flashlight and sighs. "I'll check the breaker."
"This place is cursed," Jake says.
"No," Jungwon mutters, heading toward the electrical panel in the hallway. "I'm cursed. The place is just old."
He finds the breaker box and flips the switches. Nothing happens. He tries again. Still nothing. From inside the storage room, he hears Heeseung say, "How much do you want to bet that Jungwon's phone dies right now?" On cue, Jungwon's phone screen goes black. He stands in the dark hallway of a broken down bowling alley, his phone dead in his hand, his band waiting for him to fix something he has no idea how to fix, and he thinks, not for the first time today, that whoever's hoarding all the good luck in the world needs to share. Just a little bit.
The cafe is packed on some Thursday afternoon which makes sense because it's the only decent coffee place within walking distance of your office. You and Sunoo have been coming here at least twice a week for the past six months. "I'm getting the lavender latte," Sunoo announces, studying the menu board like he doesn't get the same thing every time. "What about you?"
"Regular iced coffee. I need to be functional for the rest of the day."
"Boring." He steps aside to let you order first. You shake your head and approach the counter.
The barista smiles at you. "Hi, what can I get you?"
"Just an iced coffee, please. Medium."
She rings it up, and then her eyes widen slightly as she looks at the computer screen. "Oh, wait. Hold on." She turns to call over her shoulder. "Manager? Can you come here for a second?" A guy with a name tag reading "Mark" appears from the back. "What's up?"
"She's the one thousandth customer this month."
Mark breaks into a grin and looks at you. "Congratulations! You get your order for free today, plus a gift card for next time."
You blink. "Really?"
"Really. It's this thing corporate makes us do for customer appreciation." He's already pulling out a gift card from behind the register. "Here you go. Twenty dollars."
"Thank you," you say, taking it. This is objectively ridiculous, but you've learned to just accept these things when they happen. Sunoo appears at your elbow, looking betrayed. "Are you serious right now?"
"What?"
"Didn't you win this same thing last month?"
"That was two months ago."
"That doesn't make it better!" Sunoo turns to the barista. "She's literally the luckiest person alive. It's unfair."
The barista laughs. "Lucky day, I guess."
"Lucky life," Sunoo mutters, but he's smiling. "Okay, I'll have the lavender latte. Medium. Which I will be paying for, apparently."
You step to the side to wait for your drink and Sunoo moves up to the counter. Behind him, the line has grown longer. There's a guy standing there now, hands shoved in his jacket pockets and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He's cute, you notice. Dark hair, big cat looking but tired eyes, nice face, a really nice face. He's staring at the menu board with intensity.
The door to the cafe swings open, and a woman with a huge purse barrels in, not looking where she's going. Her bag clips the side of a display stand near the entrance, and everything happens in slow motion. The stand wobbles. Jungwon is standing right next to it, completely unaware. The stand tips forward, and bags of coffee beans slide off the shelves, tumbling directly toward him. He turns just in time to see them coming. "Oh, come onâ"
Three bags hit the floor around his feet, one of them splitting open on impact. Coffee beans scatter everywhere, rolling across the tile like marbles. "I'm so sorry!" the woman with the purse says, horrified.
"It's fine," Jungwon says, but his voice suggests it is very much not fine. He crouches down and starts trying to gather the beans, but they keep rolling away from him. One escapes under a table and another somehow rolls behind the counter. Mark rushes over with a broom. "Don't worry about it, man. We've got it."
"I can help â"
"Seriously, it's okay. Happens all the time." Jungwon knows it doesn't.
He stands up, and there are coffee beans stuck to his jeans. He brushes them off, looking exhausted in a way that seems deeper than just this one incident. Your eyes meet for a second. He's definitely cute. Even covered in coffee beans and looking like the universe personally inconvenienced him, there's something about him. He looks at you for just a moment longer, and you think maybe he's about to smile, or say something, but then the barista calls out, "Iced coffee for Y/N?"
"That's me," you say, breaking eye contact. You grab your drink from the counter and Sunoo gets his latte a moment later, and you both move toward the table. Jungwon is still standing near the wreckage of the coffee bean display waiting for the line to move forward.
"So," Sunoo says as you find a small table near the window, "did you secure the venue for the HYBE event?"
"Yeah, that gallery space in Midtown."
"Oh, the fancy one. Very masquerade ball-ish."
"Exactly. And we finalized the catering this morning. The guest list is almost done. HYBE's sending over the final names tomorrow."
"How many people?"
"Three hundred and twelve, last count."
Sunoo whistles. "That's huge. When's the event again?"
"Two weeks from Saturday. It's tight, but everything's been going smoothly so far."
"Of course it has. Because you're involved."
You laugh. "I don't think it works like that."
Behind you, you hear the cute guy finally reach the counter. His voice carries slightly. "Just a black coffee. Small."
"That'll be three fifty."
There's a pause. Then: "Uh, the reader's not working."
"Oh, sorry, yeah â it does this sometimes. Try again?"
Another pause. "Still nothing."
"Hmm. Let me reboot it real quick."
You glance over your shoulder without meaning to. Jungwon is standing there, card in hand, looking like he expected this exact scenario. "Give it a sec. It should work now."
After a while, Jungwon takes his coffee, looking stunned, and heads toward the door. As he passes your table, you catch a fragment of his muttered words: "...fuck my stupid baka life..."
"Okay, that guy had the worst luck I've ever seen," Sunoo says, watching him go. "Like, the exact opposite of you."
"Maybe he's just having a bad day."
You smile and finish your coffee. Outside, Jungwon has finally walked away, disappearing around the corner. You wonder, briefly, if you'll ever see him again. And Jungwon walks six blocks before he realizes he's going the wrong direction. He turns around, coffee in hand and tries to retrace his steps. His shoe squelches with every step. The puddle outside the cafe had been deeper than it looked. But he's not thinking about his wet shoe, or the card reader, or the coffee beans. He's thinking about the conversation he overheard.
His brain is already working through possibilities. If HYBE is hosting an event to showcase new artists, that means they're looking. That means there's an opportunity. He just has to figure out how to get ENHYPEN in front of them. You had said something about a meeting with HYBE's events team, which means you're involved somehow, probably with the event planning company. Jungwon pulls out his phone and types out a text to the group chat.
[jungwon:] emergency practice tonight smth came up and i have an idea [jay:] Is it a good idea or a Jungwon idea? [jungwon:] does it matter baka [heeseung:] kinda but yeah [jake:] i'm in but if i lose 20 bucks again ur dead [jungwon:] dude i already told u ill pay u back damn [sunghoon:] Do I have a choice? [jungwon:] no [sunghoon:] Then I'm in I guess
He'd gone home that day and done what he does best: research. He found out everything he could about HYBE's event. The date, two weeks away now. The location â some gallery in Midtown with a name he couldn't pronounce. The purpose â networking and showcasing new talent. And most importantly, the person in charge of casting decisions: Yoon Jeonghan, HYBE's A&R director. So the plan is: Get a demo to Jeonghan, get ENHYPEN noticed. Simple. Except nothing in Jungwon's life is ever simple.
The band spent the last two weeks practicing like their lives depended on it because maybe they did. They ran through their setlist so many times that the bowling alley's owner asked if they were training for Coachella. Jungwon recorded sample tracks; three of their best songs, mixed and mastered as well as he could manage with the equipment they had. He burned them onto a CD, wrote "ENHYPEN" in his neatest handwriting on the disc, and put it in a case that didn't look too cheap.
Now he just needed to get it into Jeonghan's hands. The masquerade ball was invitation only. Black tie. Three hundred of the most important people in the music industry. Security would be tight and Jungwon needed a way in. His first thought was to show up in a suit and try to blend in with the guests, but that plan died when he pulled his only decent suit out of the closet and found a cigarette burn hole right on the lapel. He still doesn't know how that happened, he doesn't even smoke. So the suit was out.
Plan B: get in as staff. Catering companies always needed extra help for big events, and Jungwon had waited tables before. He found the company handling the HYBE event; some place called Ălite Affairs and called asking about a day of work. They were desperate and they hired him over the phone. The mask was easier. He found a plain black one at a costume shop for fifteen dollars, it wasn't fancy but it would do. The catering uniform would cover most of him anyway. Everything was set: three days from now he'd walk into that gallery as a waiter, find Yoon Jeonghan, and hand him the CD. Maybe strike up a conversation, maybe get the guy to actually listen to ENHYPEN's music. It wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan. And right now, that was more than Jungwon usually had.
And for you, the last two weeks have been perfect. The invitations went out on time, HYBE's events team approved the design immediately with no revisions needed. The decor came together exactly as you had envisioned. The gallery place looked like something out of a drama, and Yunjin locked down the entertainment, a string quartet for the beginning of the night, a DJ for later and live performances from three of HYBE's upcoming artists. Riki organized the seating chart without a single complaint from any of the guests, which might be the the most impressive accomplishment of all. Sunoo coordinated with the catering company, and you did a tasting last week, needless to say everything was perfect. Director Kim stopped by your desk yesterday and said, "I don't know how you do it, but keep doing it." And you'd just smiled, because this was what you do. Things work out, they always have.
Saturday arrives with not a single cloud in the sky, which surprises absolutely no one who knows you. You were up at seven, even though the event doesn't start until seven pm. You make coffee, go over the timeline one more time and confirm with the team via group text that everyone's on schedule.
Your dress had been a last minute find, you'd gone shopping three days ago, fully expecting to spend hours searching and found it in the first store. Black, floor length with delicate beading along the neckline that catches the light when you move. It fits perfectly with no alterations needed. And the mask was even easier, you'd walked past a boutique on your way home from work yesterday and saw it in the window: black lace with gold accents and which matched your dress perfectly.
Meanwhile, Jungwon wakes up at noon in a cold sweat from a nightmare where he tripped and spilled an entire tray of champagne on Yoon Jeonghan. He lies there for a moment, staring at the water stain on his ceiling and thinks: Don't. Mess. This. Up. Please, for once in your life.
The catering uniform is hanging on the back of his door, they'd given it to him yesterday during the brief orientation, and it's slightly too big but he'd expected that. He tried on last night to make sure nothing was egregiously wrong. The shirt had a small stain on the cuff but he could scrub it out, probably. The mask sits on his dresser plain black and simple and forgettable, perfect for blending in. He showers and shaves and tries to make himself look presentable. His hair won't cooperate though, which is standard. He gives up after ten minutes and just runs his hands through it.
The CD is in a thin envelope on his desk. He'd checked it approximately fifty times to make sure it actually works and it does; all three tracks, clear audio, no skips. He slips it into the inside pocket of his vest. And by three pm, he's dressed and standing in front of his bathroom mirror, giving himself a pep talk. "You're going to walk in, do your job, find Jeonghan and give him the CD. Have a normal, pleasant and professional conversation with him. Don't spill anything, don't break anything. Don't. Mess. This. Up."
You arrive at four for the final walkthrough, and even though you've seen the space decorated before, it still takes your breath away. Sunoo walks over, adjusting his tie. "Catering's almost done setting up. They brought extra staff, so we're covered if it gets busy."
"Guest check in?"
"Ready. Riki's handling the mask distribution for anyone who forgets theirs."
You exhale. "Okay. Okay, we're ready."
Director Kim â Chaewon, she'd insisted last week ("We're friends, please, call me Chaewon") appears in a stunning black gown with her mask already in place. "This is beautiful," she says, surveying the room. "You've outdone yourself. Enjoy tonight. You've earned it."
Jungwon arrives at the gallery at 4:50 PM, which he considers a miracle. The catering manager briefs the staff in the gallery's kitchen. "This is a high profile event," she says, pacing in front of them. "HYBE's reputation is on the line, which means ours is too. You will be polite, efficient and invisible. If a guest needs something, you get it. If something goes wrong you find me. Do not â I repeat, do not â draw attention to yourselves." Jungwon nods along with everyone else. "Masks stay on at all times while you're in the event space. You'll be serving passed appetizers during the cocktail hour, then transitioning to table service for dinner. Questions?" No one has questions. "Good, masks on. Let's go."
They assign him to pass champagne during cocktail hour. Jungwon adjusts his mask and follows the group into the main gallery. And okay, he has to admit it looks incredible. By seven PM, the gallery is already full. You're standing near the entrance with Chaewon, greeting guests as they arrive. HYBE's executives arrived twenty minutes ago, you recognize a few faces from meetings, though the masks make it harder. Sunoo appears, grinning. "Okay, I have to show you something, come on." He leads you toward the back corner of the gallery, where a small booth has been set up. There's a sign: Madame Clarrisse - Fortune Teller. "HYBE requested this last minute," Sunoo explains. "Apparently one of their executives is really into this stuff. She's been reading palms for the last half hour."
You peer into the booth. A woman in an eleborate purple gown and a jeweled mask sits at a small table, holding a guest's hand. "You want to get your fortune read?"Sunoo asks.
"Why not? Could be fun."
"You already know your fortune, bitch. You're lucky as fuck." Sunoo says with a grin, teasing you, and you laugh along with him.
You wait until the current guest finishes, then slip into the chair across from Madame Clarisse. She's older, maybe sixties. "Give me your hand, dear," she says. You extend your right hand, and she takes it, turning it over, tracing the lines on your palm with one finger and her expression shift. "Interesting," she murmurs. "Your luck line is very strong, remarkably so." She pauses, studying it closer. "But there's a break here, right at the end."
"A break?"
"Yes. Your luck is about to run out."
You laugh through your nose. "Yeah, okay."
"I'm serious, dear. Whatever fortune you've had, it's ending. Soon." Sunoo, standing behind you, snorts. Madame Clarisse looks up, her eyes meeting yours. "Be careful tonight."
"Right. Thanks." You pull your hand back, still smiling.
You and Sunoo walk away, and he is still laughing. "That was the worst fortune telling I've ever seen. 'Your luck is ending.' What kind of scam is that? The fuck does she want you to do?"
"At least she committed to the bit."
"She's probably telling everyone the same thing, so you can come back or whatever and give her more money." You sip your champagne and scan the room. Everything is perfect â guests are mingling, the music is beautiful and the food is being served. Your luck isn't going anywhere.
Jungwon has been circling the gallery for forty minutes and he still hasn't found Jeonghan. He's served champagne to at least sixty people. He's narrowly avoided colliding with another waiter twice. He's successfully kept his tray balanced despite someone bumping into him. So far, nothing terrible has happened, which is almost suspicious.
He's starting to think Jeonghan isn't there when he finally spots him near the bar, talking to a girl in a black dress and lace mask and Jungwon's heart jumps. That's him, that's definitely him. Jungwon's seen enough photos to recognize him even with the mask. So he moves closer, trying to look casual, waiting for an opening. You laugh at something Jeonghan says, you're gesturing animatedly, clearly comfortable. Jungwon wonders if you're someone important or just a guest. After a few minutes, Jeonghan excuses himself and walks toward the restrooms. This is Jungwon's chance. But he needs a better approach than just ambushing the guy in a hallway. He needs context and information.
You're still standing by the bar, alone now, watching the room with the satisfied feeling of seeing everything go exactly according to plan. Then, Jungwon makes a decision. He walks over, tray balanced in one hand, and stops just close enough that you notice him. "Champagne?"
You turn, and there's something about the way he's looking at you, even through the mask. You can see his smiling, but not the polite server smile, almost a grin, more genuine, maybe. "Sure, thank you."
You take the glass and your fingers brush his for a second, and he should walk away now. That's what waiters do, right? Serve and move on. Instead, he stays. "You seem like you're having a good time."
There's a lightness to his voice, almost playful, and you find yourself smiling back. "I am. It's a beautiful event."
"Yeah, it really is." He glances around the room and then back at you. "Someone clearly knows what they're doing."
You smile at that. "Thank you," you say, taking a sip.
His eyebrows raise slightly behind the mask. "So you're the one running this whole thing?"
"Not alone, obviously. But I'm helping, yeah."
"That's impressive." He leans in just a little, enough that you catch a hint of cologne. "Must've been a lot of work."
"It was. But it's worth it when everything comes together like this." You tilt your head studying him. "What about you? You're not supposed to be chatting with guests, are you?"
He grins, and it's disarming. "Probably not. But you looked interesting."
"Interesting?"
"Friendly," he corrects quickly. "You looked friendly."
"Friendly. Right." You take a sip of champagne, hiding your smile. "That's one way to put it."
There's something easy about him. The way he stands there, relaxed but also attentive, like he's got nowhere else to be even though you both know he does. You're not sure why you're still talking to him, but you don't exactly want to stop. "So do you work for HYBE?" he asks, like he's genuinely curious.
"No. I'm with the event company. We're the ones who put all this together."
"Ah." He nods and you swear you see something shift in his expression â relief, maybe? Interest? "That explains the whole 'owning the place' vibe."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Definitely a compliment."
You laugh again, and he seems pleased by that. "What about you? Do you usually work at events like this or is this a one time thing?"
"Sometimes," he says a little too casually. "It's good money. Plus, you know, I get to see how the other half lives." He glances down at his tray and then back at you. "Though I have to say, this is probably the nicest one I've ever worked."
"Well, we tried."
"You succeeded."
There's a beat of silence, and you realize you've been looking at him for longer than it's probably normal. Even with the mask covering half of his face, there's something about him. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the easy confidence in the way he talks. He seems to realize it too because he straightens up slightly. "Well, I should probably get back to work before my boss notices I've been standing here flirting with a guest."
The word hangs in the air. Flirting. "Is that what you're doing?" you ask, smirking, and your voice comes out more playful than you intended.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Maybe. Was it working?"
You bite back a smile. "I don't know, were you trying?"
"Not at first," he admits. "But now I kind of am."
You heart does something stupid in your chest, and you take another nervous sip of champagne to cover it. "Well, you should probably go before you get in trouble."
"Probably." But he doesn't move. "Thanks for letting me talk your ear off."
"Anytime."
He takes a step back and then pauses. "What's your name?"
You hesitate. There's something fun about the anonymity of the masks, the idea that you're both strangers at a party. "Does it matter? We're all wearing masks."
He considers this and then grins. "Fair point â mystery makes it more interesting anyway."
"Exactly."
"So what do I call you then?"
"Hot and mysterious event planner?" you offer, smirking.
"I like it." He smirks back. "What about me?"
"HmmâŠ" You pretend to think about it. "Hot and mysterious waiter who's definitely breaking the rules right now?"
He laughs and it's genuine, the kind of laugh that makes you want to hear again. "That's a mouthful."
"You asked, though."
"I did." He's still smiling as he starts to back away. "Guess I'll see you around, hot and mysterious event planner."
"Maybe," you say. "If you're lucky."
Jungwon laughs at that. Well, he's never lucky, but maybe tonight's different. And then he's gone, slipping back into the crowd and you're left standing there with an empty champagne glass and the strangest feeling that you just met someone you weren't really supposed to. You don't even know his name, but you're smiling anyway.
An hour later, you've had three glasses of champagne, and the room has taken on a pleasantly soft glow. Everything is still going perfectly, the guests are happy, nobody's complained about anything. Chaewon even pulled you aside twenty minutes ago to tell you that HYBE's CEO personally complimented the event. You're riding high on success and champagne when Sunoo finds you near the dessert table. "Okay, so I've been thinking about that fortune teller," he says, already giggling. "What if your luck does run out tonight?"
"Then I guess I'll have to live like a normal person," you say, popping a chocolate covered strawberry into your mouth.
"Terrifying. Truly." He leans against the table, scanning the room. "Although, the way you're going, you'll probably find a sugar daddy at this party and never have to work again."
You snort. "Please. I want to be my own sugar daddy."
"Okay, boss. Independent woman. I respect it." He takes a sip of his drink. "But seriously, with your luck, you could probably kiss someone random tonight and they'd turn out to be the love of your life or something."
"Sunoo."
"I'm just saying! It's how your life works."
You roll your eyes. "You know me. I don't just go around kissing people."
"Maybe you should start. Live a little." He gestures broadly at the masked crowd. "Everyone's anonymous anyway. It's very romantic."
You're about to respond when you catch sight of Jungwon across the room. He's standing near one of the tall windows but he's not really working. He's just there, and the mask obscures most of his face but you'd recognize the way he stands anywhere. "Oh my god," you say. "You've seen that waiter? The one by the window."
Sunoo follows your gaze and nearly chokes on his drink. "Are you serious right now?"
"What?"
"You â of all the people at this party, all the rich executives and hot industry people â you're looking at a waiter?"
"He's cute!"
"He's working!"
"So? What's your point?" Sunoo stares at you like you've lost your mind. "My point is there are literal celebrities here, and you want to flirt with the helper," he says.
"Don't be snobby, Sunoo. It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not being snobby, I'm being logical." But he's grinning now. "Oh god. You have that look."
"What look?"
"The I'm about to do something impulsive look." Sunoo sets his glass down on the table. "Okay, this I have to see."
"See what?"
"You, flirting with a waiter at the most important event of your career."
You cross your arms. "I can flirt with whoever I want."
"I'm not saying you can't. I'm just saying it's very on brand for you to ignore everyone in favor ofâ"
"He seems nice and he's very charming."
"And you've talked to him for like, what? Five minutes?!"
"And?! So what! You've dated people you talked for less."
Sunoo gasps, hand over his chest. "Rude. But fair." He looks at the waiter again then back at you. " But you did say you don't just kiss random people."
"Maybe I'm feeling spontaneous tonight."
"Because of the fortune teller?"
"Because of the champagne."
Sunoo laughs. "Okay. Okay, I dare you to go over there and shoot your shot with the cute waiter, since you're so confident."
You look at him, then at the waiter, then back at Sunoo. "Fine."
"Wait, seriously?"
"You literally just dared me."
"I didn't think you'd actuallyâ" But you're already walking away, and Sunoo's laughter follows you across the room. Meanwhile, Jungwon has given up on finding Yoon Jeonghan. Not permanently but just for the next ten minutes, because he's been nursing a cocktail he swiped from a tray, and the room is spinning just slightly, and honestly? He's tired of stressing. He's leaning against the window just watching the party, and somehow thinking about the girl in the black dress, you. He hasn't seen you in a while, which was probably for the best because he was supposed to be working and not flirting with guests who are way out of his league. And then, as if summoned by his thoughts, you appear in front of him. "Hi again."
Jungwon straightens up immediately. "Oh. Hey."
"You looked lonely over here."
"Did I?"
"A little." You're smiling, and there's something loser about you now, more relaxed. "What happened to working?"
"Taking a break," he says, and you notice the way his mouth curves, not quite a smirk but close.
"Good. Breaks are important."
You lean against the window next to him, close enough that your bare arm almost brushes his sleeve. Close enough to notice things you didn't before, like the way his dark hair falls just slightly into his eyes or the way his mask doesn't quite hide the sharp line of his jaw. "So. Hot and mysterious waiter."
"Hot and mysterious event planner," he counters, and now he's definitely smirking.
"Are you having fun?"
"More fun than I expected," he admits, and his eyes â god, his eyes are so focused on you it makes your stomach flip. "You?"
"It's been a good night." You tilt your head studying him openly now. "You know, I never got to ask â do you always flirt with guests, or am I special?"
He laughs, and it's lower than you expected. "Definitely not always. You're a special case."
"Special how?"
"I don't know yet." He shifts his weight, angling toward you. "Still figuring it out."
You bite your lip without thinking and you watch his gaze drop to your mouth for just a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. "Well, let me know when you do."
"I will."
The air between you feels different now, more charged. The masks aren't even hiding you from each other anymore, it's more like they're giving you permission. "Can I ask you something?" You ask.
"Sure."
"Why did you come over to talk to me earlier? Really."
He considers for a moment and you notice the way he runs his tongue briefly over his bottom lip, a tell that he's thinking. "Because you looked interesting. And I wanted an excuse to talk to you."
"That's it?"
"That's it." He shifts closer. "Is that okay?"
"It's more than okay." You're looking at him, really looking, trying to memorize the details the mask doesn't hide.
"You know what," his voice drops a little lower. "You don't seem like someone who spends all their time planning fancy parties."
"What do I seem like, then?"
He takes his time answering, and his eyes moving over your face like he's reading you. You notice things about him too like the way he's tall enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to hold his gaze or the way his shoulders are broader than you initially thought. "Like someone I'd want to know," he says finally. "If we weren't both wearing masks at a party where we were both supposed to be working."
Your smile widens, and your heart is doing something stupid in your chest. "That's a good answer."
"Thanks. I try."
"Do you, though?"
"Not usually, no." He grins and it's devastating. "Tonight's an exception."
You laugh, because there's something about him that makes you want to be bold, want to push boundaries you normally wouldn't. "Okay, you're trouble," you say, but it comes out almost affectionate.
"Me?" He raises an eyebrow. "You're the one who came over here, love."
The petname makes you shiver. "Fair point."
You're standing even closer now. You're not sure when that happened but there's barely any space left between you. You can feel your pulse in your throat and you're aware of everything â the warmth of his body, the way he's looking at you. You should step back, you should remember that you're at the most important event of your career, that he's working, and that you don't even know his name. But you don't want to. Instead, you say, "What if I told you," and you take a step closer, "that I'm not very good at making decisions?"
His lips curve into a smile. "Then I'd say that's hard to believe."
"Why?"
"Because you seem like someone who knows exactly what she wants."
Your heart skips. "Do I?"
"Yeah." He reaches up, and his fingers brush a strand of hair away from your face. "You do."
The contact sends a shiver through you. His hand lingers near your cheek and you can't tell if he's being deliberate or if he's just as caught up in this as you are. "And what if," you breathe, "what I want is a bad idea?"
"Then maybe," he says and his thumb grazing your jaw now, "you should stop thinking so much."
"Is that your professional advice?"
"Definitely not professional." His eyes are locked on yours. "Nothing about this is professional."
"No," you agree. "It's really not."
The space between you has narrowed to almost nothing. You can feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rises and falls just a little faster than normal. His hand is still at your face, and yours has somehow found its way to his chest, your fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his vest. His eyes search yours for a long moment, and then, "Come here," he murmurs.
You close the distance. The kiss starts soft, like he's giving you a chance to change your mind. His lips are warm and gentle against yours, his hand cradling your face. But then you press closer, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and something shifts. He makes a sound low in his throat and the gentleness evaporates. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and his mouth moves against yours with an urgency that steals your breath.
And oh god, he can kiss. It's all consuming, like the way his tongue traces the seam of your mouth before slipping inside. He tastes like champagne, even though he probably shouldn't be drinking during work hours and that somehow makes him even hotter. His hand tightens at your waist while the other cups your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss even further. You press closer, and he responds immediately, his fingers sliding into your hair, careful not to dislodge your mask but possessive. You feel something shift inside you â something fundamental and terrifying and exhilarating, like a lock clicking into place. It feels like the ground beneath your feet just tilted, and it feels significant in a way you can't explain. Like the before and after of your life just split into two distinct halves, and this moment, this kiss, this person is the dividing line.
When you finally break apart it's only because you need air. His forehead rests against yours, and you're both breathing hard, your fingers still tangled in his hair, his hands still holding tight. "Jesus," he breathes.
You laugh, breathless. "Yeah."
"That wasâ"
"I know."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and even through the mask you can see the way his pupils are blown wide and his lips are slightly swollen from kissing you. He looks wrecked in the best way. His thumb traces your bottom lip. "We should probablyâ" You don't finish the sentence because you don't actually know what you should do. Stop? Keep going? Pretend this didn't feel like it just shifted something fundamental in your universe?
"Yeah," he agrees, even though neither of you moves.
You're still pressed against each other, his hand still in your hair, yours still on his chest. "This is crazy," you say. "I just kissed a waiter at my own event."
"I just kissed a guest when I'm supposed to be working." He grins. "Should we stop?"
You consider this for approximately half a second. "No."
"Good answer, love." He's leaning in again, his hand coming back up to cup your face, and you're already closing your eyes when you hear a loud crash. The kind of sound that makes an entire party go silent, and you both freeze. "What was that?" he asks.
You turn toward the main floor and your stomach drops. Director Kim, Chaewon, is standing in the middle of the dance floor, her mask askew, pointing an accusatory finger at a woman in a red dress. The woman is pointing right back and even from here you can tell they're both several drinks past professional. "Oh no," you breathe. "My boss. Oh my god."
Chaewon's voice carries across the gallery. "You have some NERVE showing up here!"
The woman in red gets right in her face. "I was INVITED!"
"By WHO?" Security is already moving toward them, and you're moving too, I mean you're already running or trying to, in heels and a floor length dress. You reach the stairs leading down to the main floor and you're halfway down when your heel catches on the hem of your dress. The snap is audible. Your shoe â your perfect, expensive, matched to the dress shoe â breaks clean off. You stumble, barely catching yourself on the railing, and hobble the rest of the way down with one heel and one bare foot.
By the time you reach the dance floor, Chaewon has grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and looks like she's considering throwing it. "Chaewon," you say, breathless, trying to step between them. "Hey. Let's justâ"
"She's sleeping with my husband!" the woman in red shrieks.
The entire gallery is watching now. All three hundred guests. HYBE executives. Press. Everyone. "I am NOT â" Chaewon starts.
"You absolutely AREâ"
A security guard finally reaches them, gently but firmly taking Chaewon by the arm. "Don't touch me!" She yanks her arm away and nearly loses her balance. Her mask falls off completely, and you try again. "Chaewon, please, let's just go outside andâ"
"Where were you?" Chaewon whirls on you and her eyes are unfocused. "You're supposed to be MANAGING this event!"
"I was â I amâ"
"Mrs. Choi was NOT supposed to be on the guest list!" She gestures wildly at the woman in red. "I specifically told you to make sure her name wasn't on there!"
Your blood runs cold. "What?"
"I sent you an email! Two weeks ago!"
You remember it now, an email buried in your inbox, unread, flagged as low priority by your email filter: Please remove Mrs. Choi from the final guest list. Personal reasons. "I didn't see it," you whisper.
"You DIDN'T SEE IT?" Chaewon's voice echoes. "This is YOUR job! This whole night was YOUR responsibility, and you â" Mrs. Choi interrupts, her voice icy. "My husband is Director Choi from HYBE. And I will be making sure he knows exactly how this event was run."
Your stomach plummets to your feet. The head of security appears. "I'm going to have to ask both of you to leave."
"This is ridiculous," Chaewon slurs but she's already being guided toward the door. You follow with one shoe on, one shoe off, your dress torn at the hem, your mask crooked, and your entire career presumably in ruins. He escorts you and Chaewon out through the main entrance and the cool night air hits you. "This is your fault," Chaewon says. "This whole thing is your fault."
"I didn't see the email â"
"That's not an excuse! You were supposed to be on top of everything!" She laughs bitterly. "God, I actually thought you were good at this. Director Han kept saying you were so lucky, so perfect, nothing ever goes wrong for you â"
"Chaewonâ"
"Director Kim. Well, congratulations. Something finally went wrong." She flags down a taxi and stumbles into it, and disappears into the night without another word. You stand there on the sidewalk, your dress ruined, your career probably over, and you think about the fortune teller: Your luck is about to run out. Maybe she wasn't kidding after all.
Inside, Jungwon watches the whole thing unfold with a mixture of horror and disbelief. He should find you and make sure you're okay, do something. But then he sees Yoon Jeonghan, walking toward the exit with his phone pressed to his ear, looking slightly irritated. This is it. This is Jungwon's chance. He hesitates for only a second â thinking about you, about the kiss, about how wrong it feels to just let you leave like that â but then reality crashes back in. He came here for a reason. He has a band counting on him, he has a CD in his pocket that represents two years of work. He can find you later, maybe, somehow.
Jungwon follows Jeonghan, keeping enough distance to not look suspicious. Jeonghan stops at the curb still on his phone, waiting for his car. Jungwon's hand goes to his pocket, feeling for the CD. He takes a step forward and a car comes around the corner fast and Jeonghan, distracted by his phone call, steps off the curb without looking. Jungwon doesn't think, he just lunges forward, grabbing Jeonghan's arm and yanking him back onto the sidewalk. The car blares past, missing them by inches. Jeonghan drops his phone. "What theâ"
"You almost got hit," Jungwon says, breathing hard.
Jeonghan stares at him, then at the street, then back at him. "I â you justâ"
"You weren't looking."
"I wasn'tâ" Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, visibly shaken. "Jesus. Thank you. That car would'veâ" They stand there for a moment, both processing what almost happened. Jeonghan bends down to pick up his phone, miraculously uncracked, and looks at Jungwon properly for the first time. "You work for the catering company?"
"Uh, yeah. Tonight, anyway."
"Well, you just saved my life, so." Jeonghan laughs shaky. "Thank you. Seriously."
"No problem."
Jeonghan's car pulls up and he opens the door, then pauses. "What's your name?"
"Jungwon. Yang Jungwon."
"Well, Jungwon. I owe you one." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a business card. "If you ever need anything, just call me."
Jungwon takes the card and his heart is pounding. "Actually," he says, pulling the CD from his pocket before he can lose his nerve, "I have something. If you have a second."
Jeonghan looks at the CD then at Jungwon, curious. "What is it?"
"A demo. For my band. It's called ENHYPEN. I'm their manager, and they're â they're really good, and I know everyone says that, but they are. They've been trying to get signed for two years, and I just â" He takes a breath. "I just want someone to listen. That's all."
Jeonghan studies him for a long moment and then takes the CD. "You just saved my life," he says. "The least I can do is listen to your band."
"Really?"
"Really." Jeonghan slides into his car. "I'll call you next week. We'll talk." Jungwon stands on the sidewalk watching him leave, his business card in one hand, the ghost of the CD in the other, and he can't quite believe what just happened. He almost got Yoon Jeonghan killed. Then he saved Yoon Jeonghan's life. And now Yoon Jeonghan has his demo. He looks up at the night sky and thinks, for the first time in his entire life â maybe his luck is finally changing.
The week after the masquerade ball is, without exaggeration, the worst week of your life.
Monday morning, you're fired. Director Han doesn't even look at you when she says it. Just slides a severance packet across her desk and tells you that "given the circumstances," it's best if you "pursue other opportunities." The circumstances being: HYBE terminated their contract with the company. Effective immediately, no future projects, no referrals, nothing. All because Mrs. Choi told her husband what happened, and Director Choi told HYBE's CEO, and suddenly the company that organized the event where the director got publicly accused of having an affair is no longer a company HYBE wants to be associated with. Chaewon hasn't responded to any of your texts. You're pretty sure she's blocked your number.
Tuesday, you spill coffee all over yourself on the subway. Your white shirt is completely ruined, and you have a job interview in twenty minutes. You show up looking like a disaster. You don't get the job. Your landlord calls on wednesday. "I'm so sorry," He says, and he actually sounds sorry. "But the building's been sold. New owners want everyone out by the end of the week for renovations."
"End of the week? That's in two days!"
"I know. I'm really sorry. It's out of my hands."
You spend wednesday night frantically searching for apartments you can afford, which turns out to be zero apartments, because you no longer have a job and your savings are pathetic. Friday, you move into Sunoo's apartment with two suitcases and a dying plant you've somehow managed to keep alive for three years. "It's temporary," you tell him, setting your stuff down in his tiny living room.
"Stay as long as you need," Sunoo says. He's being incredibly nice about this, considering his apartment is barely big enough for one person. "The couch pulls out into a bed. Kind of."
You test it. It does not pull out into a bed, it pulls out into a medieval torture device. "It's perfect," you lie. Saturday, you go to three more job interviews and none of them go well. One of them ends with the interviewer asking if you're feeling okay because you "seem stressed." You are stressed. You're very stressed. Sunday, you're sitting on Sunoo's couch (your new bed) eating cereal and staring at nothing, when Sunoo comes out of his room. "Okay," he says. "I've been thinking. Remember the fortune teller? At the party?"
You look at him. "How could I forget."
"Yeah." Sunoo sits down next to you. "I think she was right."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"Like, everything went wrong in your life. Literally everything all at once in one week."
"I got it Sunoo. What's your point?"
"My point is what if she actually did something? Like what if it wasn't just a prediction? What if she cursed you or something?"
You stare at him. "Sunoo. She's a party entertainer, not a witch."
"You don't know that!"
"I'm pretty sureâ"
"All I'm saying is, your entire life fell apart the night she touched your hand. That's suspicious."
You want to argue, but honestly? You're desperate enough to consider it. "Fine," you say. "I'll go find her and ask her to uncurse me. Happy?"
"Very." Sunoo grins. "See? This is why we're friends. You're willing to entertain my insane theories."
"I don't have a choice. My life is already upside down."
And across town, Jungwon is having the best week of his life. He finds twenty dollars in the pocket of a jacket on monday, a jacket he hasn't worn in months. Not life changing, but nice. Tuesday, he buys a lottery scratch off ticket on a whim and wins fifty bucks. The subway is delayed on wednesday, and he's annoyed until he realizes the delay meant he avoided a massive service outage on the line he would've transferred to. He would've been stuck underground for two hours but instead, he gets home early. Thursday, his landlord calls to say they're lowering rent for all tenants because of some tax credit thing Jungwon doesn't understand. Friday, his phone rings, an unknown number. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Yang Jungwon?"
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"Yoon Jeonghan. From HYBE. We met last weekend."
Jungwon's heart stops. "Oh. Yeah, Jeonghan! Hi."
"Listen, I listened to your demo. And I have to say â I'm impressed. Your band is really good."
Jungwon sits down before his knees give out. "Thank you. That â thank you."
"I'd like to bring you and the guys in for a studio session. See how you sound live, meet the team. Would next week work?"
"Yes. Absolutely, yes."
"Great. I'll have my assistant send over the details. Looking forward to it, Jungwon."
The studio session is scheduled for the following Thursday. Jungwon spends the days leading up to it in a state of controlled panic and the guys practice until the bowling alley owner threatens to charge them extra. But Thursday arrives and nothing goes wrong. Actually, everything goes perfectly. They arrive at HYBE's building with twenty minutes to spare and the studio is incredible, huge, with equipment that probably costs more than Jungwon's entire life.
They play three songs, their best three songs and they're perfect. Heeseung's vocals are flawless, Jake's guitar work is clean and emotional, Jay's bass anchors everything, Sunghoon's drumming is powerful. When they finish, there's a moment of silence and then Jeonghan starts actually clapping. "That is exactly what we've been looking for." The other executives are nodding, talking amongst themselves. Jeonghan turns to Jungwon. "Can we talk in my office?" Jungwon follows him down a hallway. Jeonghan's office is sleek with a view of the city. He gestures for Jungwon to sit. "I'm going to be direct," Jeonghan says. "We want to sign ENHYPEN. Full contract. Album deal, marketing budget, tour support. Everything."
Jungwon's brain short circuits. "You â what?"
"We think you guys have something special. You guys have potential, it's all there. We want to invest in it."
"How much are we talking?"
Jeonghan slides a paper across the desk. Jungwon looks at the number and nearly passes out. "That's just the signing bonus," Jeonghan says. "The full contract is much more comprehensive. But I think this is a partnership that could really work."
Jungwon stares at the number. It's more money than he's ever seen in his life. More money than he thought was possible. They say yes, obviously they say yes. The contract is signed the following week and the signing bonus hits their accounts two days later. Suddenly, Jungwon can pay rent for a year in advance. Suddenly, the guys can quit their day jobs. Suddenly, they're not a struggling band anymore. They're HYBE artists.
On Saturday night, they celebrate at the bowling alley, the place where it all started. They're loud and drunk and happy in a way Jungwon hasn't felt in years. "I can't believe this is real," Jake says, staring at his phone like he's checking his bank account for the hundredth time. Jungwon leans back in his chair, looking at his best friends, his band, and thinks about how one decision â one stupid, desperate decision to sneak into a party â changed everything.
On next Monday, you and Sunoo stand outside a shop in a part of town you've never been to before. The sign above the door says Madame Clarisse - Spiritual Advisor in peeling gold letters. There's a neon palm reader sign in the window that flickers every few seconds. The whole place looks like it hasn't been updated since the 90s. "This is humiliating," you say.
Sunoo pushes the door open and a bell chimes overhead. The interior smells like incense and there are crystals everywhere and velvet tablecloths. It's definitely mystical. Madame Clarisse emerges from behind a curtain. She's not wearing her party costume anymore â just regular clothes, jeans and a sweater, but she's still got the jewelry. Rings on every finger, about six necklaces. She takes one look at you and smiles. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
"You were?" You ask, surprised.
"Of course. You're the girl from the party. The one whose luck ran out." She gestures to a chair. "Sit." You do and Sunoo hovers behind you like moral support. "So," She says, settling into the chair across from you. "What can I do for you?"
"You can uncurse me."
"Unâ I'm sorry, uncurse you?"
"Yes. Whatever you did to me at that party, I need you to undo it."
She laughs. It's not a polite laugh, it's the kind of laugh that says she thinks you're an idiot. "Sweetheart, I didn't curse you."
"Then why did you say my luck was running out?"
"Because it was. I read palms. I see things." She leans back, arms crossed. "You think I have the power to just take away someone's luck? That's not how it works."
"Then how does it work?"
She tilts her head, studying you. "You kissed someone that night, didn't you?"
Your face goes hot. "That's none of yourâ"
"You did. I can tell." She's smiling now. "That's what did it. You transferred your luck to the person you kissed."
Sunoo leans forward. "She what?"
"It's rare, but it happens. When someone with an extraordinary amount of luck kisses someone with an extraordinary amount of bad luck â" She makes a gesture like she's balancing scales. "The universe likes balance."
You stare at her. "You're telling me I kissed someone and gave them my luck and they gave me bad luck?"
"More or less. The person you kissed needed it more than you did. The universe decided to redistribute."
"The universe can't just â"
"The universe does what it wants. You had more than your fair share of good luck for your entire life. Someone else was drowning in bad luck. You kissed them, and it balanced out. Simple. But this is just temporary."
"Temporary?"
"Well. Probably." She waves a hand. "Unless you want your luck back. Then you'd have to kiss them again."
You stand there, staring at this woman in her crystal covered shop, and your brain is trying to process what she just told you. That you kissed someone and that the kiss stole your luck. That the universe decided you'd had enough good fortune for one lifetime and redistributed it to some random person at a party. Your eye twitches. "So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "I have to find someone I kissed at a masquerade ball â where everyone was masked â and kiss them again."
"If you want your luck back."
"And if I don't find them?"
Madame Clarisse shrugs. "Then you live like a normal person. It's not the end of the world."
"My landlord kicked me out. I got fired. Iâ"
"Yes, yes, very tragic." She's still smiling. "But you're young, healthy, and you have a friend who clearly cares about you." She nods at Sunoo. "You'll survive."
You want to argue, but the words get stuck somewhere in your throat. Instead, you just stand there making a noise that's half laugh, half scream. Sunoo puts a hand on your shoulder. "Okay. We're leaving now. Thank you for your time."
"Anytime," Madame Clarisse calls after you as Sunoo guides you toward the door. "And really â good luck!"
The door slams behind you. Outside, rain is coming down in sheets, soaking through your clothes in seconds. You and Sunoo are standing under a tiny awning that's doing absolutely nothing to keep you dry. "I'm going to kill her," you say.
"She's a fortune teller. She probably saw that coming."
"Sunoo."
"Sorry." He's already scrolling through his phone, squinting at the screen. "Okay. Okay, I'm texting Riki right now. He can get us the staff list from the catering company."
You turn to look at him. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Sunoo, I am not â I'm not going to just â" You gesture wildly, and a car drives by too close to the curb, sending up a spray of water that drenches your legs. "Oh, come ON!" Sunoo jumps back just in time, completely dry. You stare down at your jeans, now soaked and clinging to your shins and something inside you snaps. "This is what I'm talking about!" you shout, throwing your hands up. "This is my life now! I get hit by puddles! My phone is in a storm drain! I'm living on a couch!"
"I knowâ"
"No, you don't know! You still have your job! Your apartment! Your normal, boring, non cursed life!"
"You're not cursed â"
"I kissed someone and lost my luck, Sunoo! That's a curse!"
He's quiet for a second, and then he says, very calmly, "So let's find him."
"Find him?"
"Yeah. The guy you kissed. We find him, you kiss him again, problem solved."
You laugh and it comes out a little unhinged. "Oh, sure. Let me just â let me just go through the entire city kissing every man who worked that event until one of them magically gives me my luck back. Great plan."
"Do you have a better one?"
"Iâ" You stop, open your mouth then close it because he's right and you hate it. Your life is a disaster, everything you touch breaks. You have no job, no apartment, no luck. And somewhere out there, some guy you kissed at a party is probably living his best life with your good fortune. "Fine," you say through gritted teeth. "Get the list."
He's already typing on his phone, texting Riki, pulling up something that looks like an event database. You stand there in the pouring rain soaked to the bone, watching him work, and you think about that guy. Like the way he smiled and the way he kissed you. You don't even know his name, but apparently, he has everything you used to have. And you're going to get it back.
And Jungwon was living like a king with the amount of luck you gave him. He moved out of his cramped studio apartment into a real place with two bedrooms and actual sunlight, a kitchen where he could fit more than one person at a time. The landlord had called him personally to offer a unit that just became available, said something about how Jungwon seemed like "good energy." He signed the lease the same day.
And now he has a driver, an actual driver who picks him up every morning and takes him to HYBE. Jungwon still isn't used to it, he sits in the back of the car and feels like he's playing pretend. The guys are living their dream, though. They're in a real studio now, not the bowling alley storage room, but an actual professional space with soundproofing and expensive equipment. Jake bought new guitars, plural. Heeseung got vocal coaching from someone who's worked with actual famous people. Sunghoon upgraded his drum kit and nearly cried when it was delivered. Jay keeps texting photos of expensive bass pedals to the group chat like a kid in a candy store. Everything is working out.
Jungwon knows it's the luck, he's not stupid. Things don't just fall into place like this. Not for him, not naturally. But he doesn't take it for granted. He remembers what it was like before, when every single thing was going wrong at the worst possible moment. He remembers being tired all the time, not from work, but from fighting against the universe. So yeah, he's grateful. He tips the driver well, he brings coffee for the studio staff. He says thank you for things people don't usually say thank you for. And he actually thinks about you sometimes. He wonders if you're okay. And, well, you are not okay.
The list Riki got from the catering company has forty three names on it. Forty three men who worked the HYBE event that night. You've been through twelve of them so far. The first guy you eliminated immediately because his Instagram showed he was engaged. The second one was eliminated because he posted a photo from that night and you could see his hands and they were different. You don't know how you remember his hands, but you do. The third guy you actually went on a date with. He seemed nice enough over text, and when you met him at a cafe, he was polite, average looking, completely fine. You kissed him in the parking lot after. Just went for it, quick and experimental. But, nothing. You pulled the scratch off lottery ticket from your purse â one of ten you bought specifically for this purpose â and scratched it right there under a streetlight while he watched confused. You obviously lost. "Thanks," you'd said, already walking away. "This was great."
"Wait, are weâ"
"Nope!"
The eighth guy was easier to eliminate. He posted a photo of himself and the mask he wore that night was completely different. The eleventh guy also agreed to meet you for drinks. You kissed him outside the bar and then scratched a ticket, nothing again. By guy number twenty, Sunoo started coming with you for moral support. "This is the saddest thing I've ever witnessed," he said, watching you scratch another losing ticket outside a restaurant.
Forty three names. You went through all forty three names on that list. Not all of them required dates â some you could eliminate from their social media alone, others from a quick coffee meetup where you could tell within five minutes it wasn't him. But you were thorough. Methodical, even. You checked every single person who worked that event and cross referenced their schedules and their photos or the way they carried themselves. You kissed enough of them to feel ridiculous, scratched enough lottery tickets to fund someone's gambling addiction, and came up with absolutely nothing. None of them were him.
By the time you crossed off the last name, you were sitting on Sunoo's couch at two in the morning and staring at the list. Your phone was on three percent battery â you'd forgotten to charge it, naturally â and your back hurt from the terrible angle of the pull out bed that wasn't actually a bed. You'd checked everyone, like literally every single person who worked that party and the waiter you kissed wasn't on the list. Which meant either the catering company's records were incomplete, or he wasn't actually staff, or the universe was playing some kind of cosmic joke on you that you didn't have the energy to appreciate. Which, to be fair, it kind of was.
The next day, you end up at the cafe near your old office without really planning to. It's a Wednesday afternoon, and you're unemployed so technically you could go anywhere, but your feet just carried you here out of habit. The place where you used to grab coffee every morning before work, back when your life made sense. And well, getting there is its own disaster because the subway stopped between stations for fifteen minutes because of "signal problems," and when you finally got off, it started drizzling, not enough to justify an umbrella, just enough to make your hair frizz and your shirt stick to your skin. You stepped in a puddle that was deeper than it looked. A cyclist nearly hit you and yelled at you like it was your fault. By the time you push open the cafe door, you're already exhausted and it's only two PM. The place is busy and there's a line at the counter, and you join it, and you pull out your card and tap it against the reader. Declined. You stare at the screen. "That's weird. Can I try again?"
"Of course."
You try again. Declined again and your stomach sinks. You know you have money in your account, not a lot, but enough for a coffee. You checked this morning. "Um, hold on." You pull out your phone to check your bank app, but the wifi isn't connecting and your data is throttled because you haven't paid this month's phone bill yet. The barista is still smiling, but it's getting strained. There are people behind you in line. You can feel them staring.
"Do you have another card?" The barista asks gently.
"I â yeah, let me justâ"
You're digging through your wallet which is a mess of receipts and lottery tickets just in case and old gift cards that probably don't have anything on them, when a voice behind you says, "I've got it."
You turn around. Jungwon is standing there, tall, dark hair pushed back from his face, wearing a nice jacket that looks expensive and he's smiling at you like this is the most normal thing in the world. "You don't have toâ" you say.
"It's fine. Really." He's already holding out his card to the barista. "Just the coffee, right?"
"Yeah, but â"
"Consider it a good deed for the day." He taps his card and it goes through immediately, because of course it does.
The barista looks relieved. "Thanks. I'll have that right out."
You step aside to let him order and your face is burning. This is humiliating, because you used to be the person who got free coffee for being the thousandth customer. Now you're the person who can't afford a four dollar drink and needs a stranger to bail you out. He orders something and then moves to stand next to you while you both wait. "Thank you," you say, because you have to say something. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know. But you looked like you were having a rough day."
"Is it that obvious?" You smile, kind of embarrassed.
"Little bit." He's still smiling and it's such a cute apologetic smile. "I'm Jungwon, by the way."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."
There's a pause, and you should probably just take your coffee and leave when it's ready, but something about him makes you stay. Maybe it's the way he's looking at you â not like he's hitting on you but like he's actually seeing you. Or maybe it's just that he bought you coffee and it feels rude to run. "Do you come here a lot?" he asks.
"Yeah, erm â I used to. I worked nearby."
"Worked?"
"Past tense."
"Ah." He doesn't pry, which you appreciate. "Well, it's a good cafe. Best coffee in the area."
"Yeah, it is."
The barista calls out your order and you grab it, and this is the part where you should say thanks again and leave. But he's still standing there and there's something about the energy between you that feels familiar in a way you can't place. Like you've met before, but you know you haven't because you would remember. "Can I ask you something?" he says.
"Sure."
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
Your heart does a weird little skip. "I don't think so. Why?"
"I don't know. You just seem familiar." You study his face trying to figure out if this is a line or if he actually means it. His eyes are dark and focused, and there's a small mole on his neck that you notice because you're staring now, which is weird. The barista calls his order, and he grabs his latte, and you both stand there for another second, neither of you moving. "Well," he says finally. "I hope your day gets better."
"Thanks. And thanks for the coffee."
"Anytime." He heads toward the door and you watch him go, and there's something tugging at the back of your mind, something you can't quite name. You pull out your phone and check your bank account â finally connected to the cafe wifi â and you see the Spotify fee. Because apparently your card declined not because you didn't have money, but because the bank decided to process a charge from three days ago that you'd forgotten about, and it pushed you into the negative. You close your eyes and take a long sip of your coffee. Of course. Of course that's what happened.
That night, lying on Sunoo's terrible excuse for a pull out couch, you stare at the ceiling and think about him. There was something about him that felt familiar, like you'd seen him before or heard his voice somewhere, and your brain keeps trying to make connections that don't quite fit. For a second you wonder if he could've been the waiter from the party, but that doesn't make sense. The guy who bought you coffee today was wearing a jacket that probably cost more than your rent used to cost, and he had this air about him like someone who's doing well, someone whose credit card doesn't get declined at cafes. The waiter from the party was working a catering gig and picking up shifts for extra cash, they can't be the same person. It's just your brain trying to find patterns where there aren't any because you're desperate and tired and running out of options.
The next week is a special kind of terrible. You go to four job interviews, and each one is worse than the last. The first company looks at your resume amd sees that you were fired and the interview is over before it really starts. The second place seems promising until the hiring manager asks why you left your last position, and you have to lie and you watch their face change in real time from interested to we'll-call-you-but-we-won't. The third interview goes fine until you spill coffee on yourself in the waiting room and walk into the meeting with a massive brown stain on your white shirt. The fourth place doesn't even bother to reject you in person, just sends an automated email two hours later.
By Friday, you're done. You've applied to thirty two jobs in the past weeks and heard back from eleven and been interviewed by seven, received absolute zero offers. Your savings account is running on fumes and even though Sunoo has been amazing, but you can tell he's getting tired of you sleeping on his couch even if he won't say it. You leave another failed interview on friday afternoon â they said they would keep your resume on file which is corporate speak for never contact us again â and you're walking down the street trying to decide what to do next when the sky opens up. A full downpour drenches you in seconds, you pull out the umbrella you bought at a dollar store last week and pop it open, and immediately one of the spokes snaps and the whole thing inverts itself. You stand there holding your broke umbrella with the rain pouring down on you and you legitimately cannot remember the last time something went right in your life.
That's when a car pulls up next to the curb, a black expensive looking car, and the window rolls down. "Hey!" You look over, and it's him â Jungwon. "You need a ride?" he asks, and he's leaning over from the driver's seat, looking at you with a look that might be concern or amusement but you can't tell.
You should say no and tell him you're fine, that you don't need hhelp from a stranger, but you're really soaking wet and your umbrella is destroyed, you have absolutely nowhere else to go. So you don't even hesitate, you yank open the passenger door and collapse into the seat, pulling the door shut behind you. The interior of the car is warm and dry, unlike you. Jungwon is staring at you. "You just got in my car."
"You told me to get in your car."
"I know, butâ" He laughs surprised. "You didn't even think about it. What if I was going to kidnap you or something?"
"Are you going to kidnap me?"
"No, but â" He's still staring at you like he can't quite figure you out, and then he shakes his head smiling. "You're either very trusting or having a really bad day."
"Definitely the second one."
"That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea." You wipe rain off your face with your sleeve which doesn't help because your sleeve is soaked too. "I got kicked out of my apartment â well, it's not my apartment, it's my friend's apartment, but he's out of town and I lost the spare key he gave me, so now I'm locked out. I tried calling him but he's not answering, probably because he's on a plane or something. I tried calling my mom but she's not picking up either. I had a job interview earlier that went terribly, and before that I applied to like six places and haven't heard back from any of them, and I'm starting to think I'm unemployable. And now it's pouring rain and my umbrella broke, obviously, because why wouldn't it, and I was just walking around trying to find a hotel that doesn't cost a hundred bucks a night because that's literally all I have left in my bank account." You take a breath. "So yeah. Bad day." Jungwon is quiet for a moment. His hand are still on the steering wheel and you realize you just unloaded your entire life story on a gay you've met once. "Sorry," you say. "That was a lot."
"No, it'sâ" He glances at you. "That's really rough. I'm sorry."
"It's fine. It's not your problem."
"Where were you headed?"
"I don't know. Nowhere. Anywhere. I was just walking."
He's quiet again and you can see him thinking, weighing something. "Okay, this is going to sound weird," he says finally. "But I have a guest room in my apartment. It's just sitting there, and you clearly need a place to stay, and â" He stops and runs a hand through his hair. "No pressure. Seriously. I know I'm basically a stranger. But the offer's there if you want it."
You turn to look at him properly. You can tell he is nervous because his grip on the steering wheel is a little too tight, and he's not quite meeting your eyes. "You're offering to let me stay at your apartment," you say slowly.
"Just for the night. Or however long you need. I don't know. I'm not trying to be creepy, I swear. It's just â you seem like you're having the worst day ever, and I have space, so." He shrugs. "If you want to find a hotel instead, that's totally fine. I can drop you off wherever."
You should say no. Every true crime documentary you've ever watched is screaming at you to say no. But there's something about the way he's looking at you, like a little genuine and a little awkward like if he is not sure he's overstepping it, and that makes you think he's not a serial killer at all. Or at least probably not. Either way, you don't have a better option. "Okay," you finally say.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay. Thank you very much, I hope you really donât mind."
He blinks surprised. "You're sure?"
"Well I don't have anything to lose at this point. My life is already a disaster so⊠if you murder me at least I won't have to deal with being unemployed anymore."
He laughs, startled. "Okay, that's dark." He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb. "For the record, I'm not going to murder you."
"Good to know."
"I'm a musician, by the way. I manage a band. And we just signed with a label so I've been real busy with that, and the apartment I'm in now is way too big for just me, so the guest room is just sitting there empty." He's talking fast now like he's trying to justify the offer to himself as much as to you. "It has its own bathroom and everything so you'd have privacy."
"Oh, you manage a band?"
"Yeah, they're called ENHYPEN and we just signed with HYBE actually, you know? The label?"
Your stomach drops. "HYBE?"
"Yeah. You know them?"
"I â yeah, kinda." You don't know what to say. I mean, what were you supposed to say? Yes I've worked for them before and I got fired and now I'm banned from HYBE events for life?
"Oh, that's cool. Small world." He says.
"Yeah," you say faintly. "Small world." You're staring at the windshield now and watching the rain while your brain is trying to process this. Okay, so he works with HYBE, which means he wasn't working at the party as a waiter â he would've been there as industry or maybe not there at all. So Jungwon is definitely not the guy you kissed, which is good. That would've been too complicated. But there's still that nagging feeling of familiarity, sort of, like you've seen him before. Like there's something you're missing.
He pulls into an underground parking garage and parks in a spot marked with his unit number, and you follow him to the elevator and up to his floor, and the whole time you're expecting this to be a terrible decision. But when he unlocks the door and lets you in, his apartment is just normal. Obviously very nice, but normal, it looks like someone actually lives here. There are shoes by the door and a jacket thrown over the back of a chair, and a coffee mug on the counter. "Guest room is this way," he says as he leads you down a short hallway. Jungwon opens a door to reveal a small bedroom with a double bed, a dresser and window overlooking the street. "Bathroom's through there, there should be towels and stuff. Help yourself to whatever you need."
"Thank you," you say and you mean it. "Seriously, this is â thank you."
"It's no problem, really." He lingers in the doorway for a second. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything, okay? And, uh, just so you know â I'm not going to like, bother you or anything. You can lock the door if you want."
"Okay."
"Okay." He smiles, a little awkward. "Well. Goodnight, I guess."
"Goodnight, Jungwon." You smile, fondly and grateful. He closes the door then, and you can hear his footsteps retreating down the hall. You stand there in the middle of the room, basically dripping water onto the floor, thinking about how bizarre your life has become. A month ago you were at the top of your game and running a high profile event and everything was going perfectly. Now? Now you're staying in a stranger's apartment because you literally have nowhere else to go. So you peel off your wet clothes, find a towel in the bathroom and take the hottest shower you've had in weeks. When you get out, wrapped in a towel, you realize you don't have any clothes to change into â everything you own is locked in Sunoo's apartment.
You hear a knock on the door. "I left some clothes outside the door," Jungwon's voice comes through. "In case you need them. They'll probably be big but I swear they're clean."
So you open the door a crack, and there's a folded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants sitting on the floor. "Thank you!" you call out.
"No problem." He calls back.
You change into his clothes â he's right, they're huge on you â and you climb into the bed, which is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in a month. You just lie there for minutes staring at the ceiling and trying to sleep. But your stomach is growling because you haven't eaten since this morning, and that was just a granola bar. You can smell something cooking from the living room. You could just stay there and avoid being awkward and try to sleep on an empty stomach â or, you could actually go out there and face the guy who's letting you stay in his apartment for free. So you get up and go out there. Jungwon is standing at the stove stirring something in a pan. He's changed out of his nice jacket into a hoodie and sweatpants. He looks comfortable, at ease. He glances over when he hears you come in. "Hey. Can't sleep?"
"Yeah, not really."
"Come in, I'm making fried rice. There's plenty if you need some."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, of course. Sit." He gestures to the small table near the kitchen. "It'll be ready in like two minutes."
So you sit and watch him cook. He moves around the kitchen with the kind of ease that suggests he does this a lot. He is tossing vegetables and rice in the pan, and adding sauce, adjusting the heat, and it smells incredible. "You cook a lot?" you ask.
"When I have time, yeah. It's cheaper than ordering out and I got used to it when I was broke." He grins over his shoulder. "You know, old habits."
"You were broke? Really?"
"Very broke actually. Like living off instant ramen and hoping the subway fare didn't go up kind of broke."
"What changed?"
"Well, lots of things, honestly." He plates the food and brings two bowls over to the table, sitting across from you. "And a lot of work, but mostly â luck, I think."
The word hangs in the air. Luck. You stare at your bowl of rice, your fork halfway to your moth and something twists in your chest. He said his life turned around recently because of luck â good luck that came out of nowhere. And yours fell apart at the exact same way. It's a coincidence, it has to be. You take a bite of rice and try to focus on the fact that it's delicious and not on the strange timing of everything.
When you look up, he's watching you with this easy smile and his chin was resting of his hand. You notice details you didn't catch before: like how his eyes are bigger than you realized, round and expressive in a way that makes him look younger than he probably is, and they have this slight upward tilt at the corned that reminds of you a cat. When he smiles, dimples appear, and there's something about the combination of his sharp jawline and soft features that's unfairly attractive. And well, you can't stop staring. Maybe being homeless and unemployed has made you forget how to act normal around people.
"So," he says breaking the silence. "What's your deal? Like before everything went wrong, what were you doing?"
"Uh â I was doing event stuff, you know? Planning and coordinating events, managing logistics. It was good, I mean I was good at it." You don't elaborate because you don't wanna talk about HYBE or the masquerade ball or how spectacularly everything fell apart. "What about you? How'd you get into managing a band?"
"I've known the guys for years. We all went to the same college and they were just messing around at first like playing at parties and open mics. But they were really good, and no one was taking them seriously so I just figured I'd help them out, you know? Book some shows and handle the boring stuff so they could focus on the music." He shrugs but there's pride in his voice. "And then it turned into a real thing, and we've been grinding for two years, like terrible â real terrible gigs and empty venues and labels telling me they're not marketable enough. It was rough."
"Well, but it seems that it worked out, right?"
"Eventually, yeah." He leans back in his chair and there's something vulnerable in the way he's looking at you now. "For a long time though I thought maybe we were just unlucky. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Like â I'd book a showcase and the venue would double book us. Or we'd record a demo and the file would corrupt. One time Sunghoon, our drummer, broke his wrist the day before a big audition because he went night rafting. Can you believe this guy? Yeah, anyways, it was like the universe didn't want us to succeed."
"That sounds awful, I'm sorry," you said even though you were smiling at how resilient he was.
"It was, but it also made us tougher, I think. Made us appreciate it more when things finally started working, you know?" He grins and there's that cute dimple again. "Although I'm not gonna lie it's nice not having to worry about whether my card's gonna decline every time I buy coffee." You laugh, but it's hollow because that's your life right now. He must notice because his expression softens. "Sorry, huh, that was â insensitive."
"No, really, it's fine. I'm glad things are working our for you." You smile at him because you mean it.
"They will for you too. I mean it." He says it with so much conviction that you almost believe him. "You seem like someone who's got their shit together, you know? Or had it together â you'll figure it out. I know it."
"You don't know that." You laugh small through your nose.
"Well, I have a good feeling." There's a pause and he's looking at you with this intensity that makes your stomach so something weird. You're very aware of the fact that you're sitting in his apartment and wearing his clothes and eating his food â and he's being so nice about all of it that it feels almost suspicious. Except it doesn't feel suspicious at all, it just feels genuine instead. "Why'd you get in my car though? Like you didn't even hesitate." He was being serious but he was also smiling, playfully even.
You think about it. "Honestly? I don't even know, I'm not usually like that, like I don't trust people that easily, is what I'm saying. But you seemed â" You pause, trying to find the right word. "Safe? I don't know. You just did."
"Safe," he repeats, something amused in his tone. "Well that's not usually the vibe I fo for but I'll take it."
"Really? What vibe do you usually go for?"
"Mhm, I don't know. Cool and mysterious?" Jungwon's grinning now, clearly joking. "Dangerously charming?"
"Dangerously charming?" You grin back.
"Too much?" You nod, but still smiling. "Okay, okay. I'll dial it back." But he doesn't, not really. There's this playful energy to him that feels effortless, like he's not trying to impress you but somehow he is anyway. "So," he says leaning forward slightly. "Since you're staying here, we should probably establish some ground rules."
"Oh! Ground rules?"
"Yeah, like, you can use the kitchen whenever. Help yourself to anything in the fridge â the wifi password is on a sticky note there, by the way. And if you need space, just let me know, okay? I won't be weird about it."
"Yeah, okay." You smile and nod.
"And â" He pauses, his smile turning a little softer. "If you need to talk or vent or whatever, I'm around. No judgment."
You laugh at that, but it's fondly. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
He doesn't answer right away. He just looks at you and there's something in his expression you can't quite read. "Because I've been where you are right now and I remember how much it sucked. And I wish someone had helped me out back then. SoâŠ" He shrugs. "Now I'm helping you."
You don't know what to say to that, because you're not used to people being king without expecting something in return and it's throwing you off balance. "Thank you, Jungwon. Really. I don't know what I would've done tonight if you hadn't shown up."
"Probably found a terrible hotel." You smile and he smiles back, and for a moment you just sit there, and it feels like the first good thing that's happened to you in weeks.
After dinner, Jungwon suggests watching TV and you both end up on the couch with a random cooking competition show playing in the background. He's leaning into the corner of the couch with one leg tucket under him, while you're on the other side holding a bowl of ice cream he gave you, and it's ridiculously domestic in a way that makes you feel both comfortable and slightly off kilter. He makes commentary about the contestant like "there's no way that souffle is going to hold, look at it," and you find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks.
The exhaustion hits you slowly though, and before you realize it, your head is tilting sideways and your eyes are getting heavier with each blink. The last thing you're aware of is the warmth of his shoulder under your cheek and the sound of his voice, but quieter now, saying something you don't quite catch.
The next morning you wake up in the guest bed. For a second you're disoriented, staring at the ceiling and trying to piece together how you got here. You sit up and realize you're tucked under the blanket, your phone plugged in on the nightstand, the screen showing it's fully charged. He must have carried you in here or woken you up and guided you, and either way he covered you with the blanket and made sure your phone was charging. The thoughtfulness of it makes you chest feel tight.
The smell of coffee drifts in from the kitchen so you get up, still waring his oversized shirt and sweatpants, and pad down the hallway. Jungwon's at the stove, flipping pancakes, and he's already dressed for the day with dark jeans and a sweater that looks soft but expensive, his hair styled in a way that suggests he actually tried this morning. He glances over when he hears you. "Morning. Sleep okay?"
"Yeah, really well actually." You lean against the doorway. "Did you carry me to bed?"
He stiffens. "You fell asleep on the couch and I didn't want to wake you up. I hope that's not weird." He says while he flips another pancake onto a plate.
"No, it's not â thank you."
"No problem." He sets the plate on the table along with a mug of coffee that's already poured. "I made pancakes. Wasn't sure if you were a breakfast person but I figured it was better safe than sorry."
You sat down, and the coffee is perfect and the pancakes are fluffy and golden. "You didn't have to do all this, Jungwon."
"I know but I wanted to." He leans against the counter with his own mug in hand, and he's watching you with that easy smile again. "I have to head out in a bit but make yourself at home, seriously. There's food in the fridge and the Tv remote is on the coffee table. And maybe text your friends? Let them know where you are. I don't want anyone thinking I kidnapped you."
You laugh. "Okay, yeah, I'll do that."
He finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the sink, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. As he passes behind you on his way to the door, he pauses, and you feel his hand on your shoulder â just a brief respectful squeeze, reassuring. "Good luck today, okay?" He says, his voice soft. "I mean it." And then he's gone and you're left sitting at his kitchen table with a plate of pancakes me made and the lingering warmth of his hand on your shoulder.
You wander around the apartment eventually. It's not spooning exactly, but more like observing. There are photos on the shelves in the living room, candid shots of Jungwon with four other guys who you assume are the band. They're laughing in most of them, arms slung around each other, and they're clearly close. You study Jungwon's face in the photos and he looks genuinely happy, in a way that makes you smile without meaning to.
Your phone buzzes and it's Sunoo. "Hey!" you answer.
"Oh my god you're alive. I tried calling you last night and you didn't answer and I thought you died in a ditch somewhere."
"I'm fine, I just â It's a long story." So you tell him everything about the rain, the broken umbrella and Jungwon pulling up in his car and offering you to stay at his apartment and everything you talked about. Sunoo is silent for most of it, which is unusual for him, and when you finish, there's a long pause. "So let me get this straight," he starts slowly. "A hot stranger offered you a place to stay, made you dinner, let you sleep in his room and then made you pancakes this morning?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure he's not a serial killer?"
"Pretty sure."
"Okay. Okay, this is insane. But also â wait. What's his name again?"
"Jungwon."
"And he works with HYBE?"
"Yeah. He manages a band."
There's another pause, and then Sunoo says very carefully, "Do you think he could be the guy you kissed?"
Your stomach flips. "What? No. He's a band manager. He wasn't working the party as a waiter."
"Because think about it â he said his luck changed recently, right? Around the same time yours went to shit. And he's being weirdly nice to you. And you said there was something familiar about him."
"Sunoo, that's insane."
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, the timing is very suspicious."
"No, he's not the waiter dude, he can't be. He has money and a nice apartment, he's managing a signed band. The waiter was working a catering gig, it doesn't even make any sense."
"Well, people can have two jobs."
You're quiet staring at the photos on the shelf. Jungwon smiling at the camera. Jungwon with his arm around one of his friends. Jungwon looking genuinely and effortlessly happy. "He's not the waiter," you say finally.
"Okay. If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Cool. But like â"
"Drop it Sunoo."
"Dropped." A pause. "Okay. But just so you knowâ" You hang up.
You meant to leave Jungwon's place that same day, you really did. The plan was simple: thank Jungwon for his hospitality and grab your things which was basically nothing, since everything you owned was locked in Sunoo's apartment, and find a hotel or a shelter, a bench, whatever. But then Jungwon came home that evening with takeout for two, and said "I figured you'd like it," in that casual way of his like it was obvious. So you stayed.
The next morning, he made coffee again and placed two cups without asking. You sat at his kitchen table in his clothes and it felt so easy that you almost forgot you were supposed to be leaving. Sunoo dropped your stuff on wednesday, what was left of it, anyway. And then you and Jungwon already had a routine by then. You'd wake up to the smell of coffee â he was always up before you and already dressed. You'd sit at the table scrolling through your phone while he ate standing up by the counter, checking messages, answering emails, muttering things like "Jake, please don't do that" into his phone without any context.
You felt guilty the first few days. You were literally a stranger living in his space and eating his food and taking up his bathroom. I mean, his guest bathroom, but still. But Jungwon didn't seem to mind at all, or if he did he just didn't care to say it. He just adjusted around you, making room for you, even. On Thursday, you tried bringing it up. "I should probably go back to Sunoo's," you said over dinner, he'd made pasta and it was somehow better than any pasta you'd ever had. "I don't want to impose."
He looked at you like you'd just said something genuinely confusing. "Why?"
"Because I'm living in your apartment? For free?"
"Yeah, and?"
"And that's weird and you don't really know me."
"Is it?" He twirled his fork. "I have an extra room. You needed a place, it's not that complicated."
"Jungwon â"
"Look, I get it. I'm saying I don't mind having a roommate. Specifically you." He pointed his fork at you. "You're quiet, you don't make a mess, and you actually watch good shows on TV. Those are the only three things I care about."
"Those are your criteria?"
"Yeah. High standards."
You laughed, he grinned, and that was the end of the conversation. So you stayed. But the bad luck didn't stop, obviously. Monday of the second week, you tried to cook breakfast while Jungwon was still in the shower. You burned the toast so badly that the smoke alarm went off, and it took you a few minutes trying to figure out how to turn it off, and by the time Jungwon came out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel and dripping water down his chest. You were standing on a chair waving a fish towel at the ceiling, and nothing happened.
"What happened?" he asked, his hair sticking up, and droplet sliding from his collarbone straight over the defined lines of his abdomen â eight perfect ridges, still glistening from the shower. Not that you were staring, anyway. (You were definitely staring.)
"I'm having toast problems." And that was all you managed to say.
He stared at the blackened bread on the counter, lips curving. "That's⊠a way to say it."
"Please don't laugh."
"I'm not laughing." Jungwon was absolutely laughing, low. He stepped closer and took the dish towel from your hand and reached up from the floor â didn't even need the chair, he was tall enough â fanning the alarm until it stopped. The movement made the towel slip just a dangerous inch lower on his hips and your eyes betrayed you again, dropping straight to the deep V line that disappeared beneath the fabric before you snapped them back up to his face.
But it was too late, because he noticed. "There you go," he murmured, his voice softer now like almost a tease, his eyes locked on yours for a beat too long.
Your face was burning, and you couldn't decide if you wanted to jump off the chair or melt into the floor. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He tilted his head. "I'll make breakfast, okay?" He made breakfast every morning after that. You didn't ask him to, he just did it.
Wednesday night, you were on the couch with your laptop pretending to look at job listings but actually watching Jungwon play guitar in the corner of the living room. He didn't know you were watching â he had his eyes closed and his head tilted back slightly, fingers sliding over the strings with this slow precision that made your throat go dry. The soft melody he was picking out wasn't anything you recognized; it was just intimate and unfiltered.
His shirt was loose, the collar slipping just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbone and the faint shadow of definition along his chest every time he shifted. His long fingers moved with precision in a way that had your mind wandering to places it had no business going. You watched him for a while longer than you should have. Way longer, actually. Long enough that your pulse was thudding in your ears and you had to actually press your thighs together under the blanket, for some reason. When he opened his eyes, he caught you staring, but he didn't flinch or look away. He just held your gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted in the tiniest knowing smile. He tilted his head a little, his hair falling into his eyes. "What?"
"Nothing." Your voice came out quieter than you meant, almost breathless. "That was nice." He smiled at that with the deep dimples, and went back to playing, but slower now, like he was performing just for you.
And oh boy â you were so screwed. Down bad and didn't even cover it. You were lying there pretending to scroll when you really were memorizing the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed of the soft exhale he let out between notes, or even the way his fingers looked wrapped around the neck of the guitar like they could wrap around anything else just as easilyâ Idiot. Absolute idiot.
The thing is: you knew you should leave. You knew it every single morning when you woke up in his guest bed. The luck wasn't coming back â you'd checked obsessively scratching lottery tickets and checking your horoscope and watching any sign that the universe was done punishing you. But nothing â you were still broke and still unlucky, but you stayed anyway. And it took you an embarrassingly amount of time to figure out why.
It wasn't the apartment, comfortable as it was, and it wasn't the food either, or the stability. It was actually Jungwon. It was the way he made you laugh without trying, or the way he remembered small things like that you didn't like your coffee too hot, or that you got cold at night, that you got anxious when you had too much free time. It was the shoulder squeeze and the good luck whishes every morning. It was the way he looked at you sometimes like you were the most interesting person in the room, even when the room was just the two of you eating takeout on his couch.
So yeah, you'd developed a crush on him. A bad one, really, the kind that made you hyper aware of every little interaction or the kind that made you smile at your phone for no reason after he texted you something stupid. The kind that kept you up at night staring at the ceiling replaying conversations in your head and analyzing his tone. It was pathetic, yeah, and you knew it. And you did absolutely nothing about it.
And it was a Thursday night when everything shifted. You were on the couch watching something neither of you was really paying attention to. Jungwon was on the other end scrolling through his phone. "How did you actually get the HYBE deal?" You asked kind out of nowhere, just curious about the situation in general.
He put his phone down and leaned back, thinking about it for a second. "Honestly? It was the most chaotic night of my life." He sat up straight and continued. "So we'd been trying for two years to get in front of anyone at a major label and nothing was working. We'd email or like, show up at showcases, leave demos with anyone who'd take them. And every single time, something would go wrong. Like that one time we got a showcase slot and I literally got hit by a bike on the way there. It was constant." He laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that meant it wasn't exactly that funny. "So I figured, okay, clearly doing things the normal way isn't going to work. So I said: I actually need to get creative."
"Creative how?" you asked.
"Well, I found out that HYBE was hosting this big event â a masquerade ball. And it was very exclusive, like invitation only, and all the big names in the industry were going to be there." He paused and you felt something cold start to settle in your chest. "So I got a job with the catering company."
Your own breathing suddenly felt very loud. You didn't move. "You got a job with the catering company," you repeated and your voice came out steadier than it should have.
"Yeah, a side gig really, I worked the event as a waiter." You couldn't believe his words and he kept going. "The whole time I was trying to find a guy named Yoon Jeonghan â he's HYBE's A&R director â so I could hand him our demo." Jungwon shook his head smiling at the memory.
You couldn't breathe properly. You were pretty sure you'd stopped breathing entirely at one point. "And did you find him?" you asked because you had to say something, and the silence could give you away.
"Not at first, actually. I spent most of the night just walking around trying to spot him, and thenâ" He stopped and laughed again. "Okay, this is going to sound insane. But I almost got him killed." He held a hand up before you could react. "Not on purpose! He just stepped off the curb without looking and a car was coming, and I just â I grabbed him and pulled him back. And after that, he was so grateful he actually took the CD was listening to it."
"That'sâ" you swallowed. "That's actually crazy."
"Right? The one night I needed everything to go right and get real lucky â I almost witnessed a hit and run." He laughed. "Yeah, but it worked out, he loved the demo and brought us in for a studio session, and the best is history."
You were staring at him. You knew you were staring at him and you couldn't stop because your brain was running through every single thing at once â the cafe, the way he felt familiar, the way he said I don't know, you just seem familiar â and it all made sense now. All of it. Jungwon was him. He was the waiter from the party. Jungwon was the guy you kissed. Jungwon was the reason your luck was gone. And you had been living with him for two weeks. And, accidentally-not-so-accidentally, falling for the guy. "Hey." Jungwon tilted his head, studying you. "You okay? You look kind of pale."
"Yeah I'm fine," you said too fast. "Just tired, I'm sorry."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I think I'm going to head to bed, actually."
"Okay." He didn't push, which was one of the things you liked about Jungwon, except right now you kind of wished he could because at least then you'd have an excuse to keep talking and to process this out loud, to said, wait, I have something to tell you. But you didn't say anything. You just stood up and walked down the hallway to the guest room, closed the door, leaned against it and immediately called Sunoo.
"I knew it, I knew it I fucking knew it!" He said. âSo? What are you going to do? You're going to kiss him?"
You opened your mouth then closed it. Because the thing was â yes. You wanted to kiss Jungwon. You wanted to kiss him so badly it was ridiculous. But the reason you wanted to kiss him had nothing to do with getting your luck back, and that was the part that was making your chest feel like someone was sitting on it. "It's not that simple," you said instead.
"Why not? Kiss him and get your luck back, everybody wins."
"Yeah, everybody wins but Jungwon! I don't want to kiss him for the luck." Silence on the other end. "What do you mean?" Sunoo asked slower.
"I meanâ" You slid down until you were sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. "I mean I want to kiss him because I want to kiss him because I like him, like embarrassingly much." You said that way too fast, and Sunoo kept silent. "Sunoo?"
"So you like him."
"Yes."
"The guy whose apartment you're living in."
"Yes."
"The guy you kissed at that party and took your luck away."
"Yes, Sunoo, that guy."
"Okay. Okay, that's â" He paused. "That's actually really cute."
"Fuck you mean cute?! It's a disaster, Sunoo! Because if I kiss him now, I don't know if it's because I actually want to or because I need my luck back, and he doesn't know any of this â he doesn't know about the fortune teller, he doesn't know I was the girl at the party, he doesn't know I've been living here partly because I'm trying to figure out how to get my luck backâ"
"Okay, slow down. When did you start liking him? Like actually liking him?"
"I don't know. Gradually? I think it started when he made me fried rice the first night and then it justâ" You made a vague gesture even though he couldn't see you. "Got worse."
"So you have a crush on him."
"I have more than a crush, dude, I think about him all the time and I memorize the way he laughs and I get excited when he comes home. Like yesterday he pushed my hair out of my face and I almost passed out, Sunoo! I almost passed out!"
"Okay so it's beyond a crush â it's a super crush."
"I know."
"Like, really down bad."
"I said I know, Sunoo!"
He was quiet for a moment, and you could practically hear him grinning through the phone. "So what's the problem, exactly? You like him and you need to kiss him. Seems like the universe is literally giving you an excuse to do the thing you already want to do."
"The problem is that it's not honest! I can't kiss him just because I want my luck back, that's using him."
"But you said you want to kiss him anyway."
"I do."
"So then it's not using him. It's justâmultitasking."
"That's not â" You took a deep breath and laughed despite yourself. "That's not how that works. Plus, what if he doesn't feel the same way?"
"Well, you said he makes you breakfast, carries you to bed, he gets you groceries. I think he feels the same way." You leaned your head back against the door and stared at the ceiling. From somewhere in the living room, you could hear the faint sound of Jungwon's guitar again. You were quiet for a long time after that just listening to the guitar, thinking about his hands and his smile and the way he said good luck to you every morning like he actually meant it.
So, needless to say, the rest of the week was pure torture. Now that you knew that it was Jungwon who you had kissed at that party, you couldn't stop thinking about it â how his lips felt, and the memory lingered in your mind, and somehow the fact that he was the most charming and gentlest man you've ever met, made everything even more devastating. When he reached past your for the coffee mug in the morning, his arm brushed yours, and your skins burned for ten minutes after as if he'd dragged his fingers down your spine instead. Or when he stretched out on the couch and his shirt rode up just enough to show that tight strip of toned abdomen, the faint happy trail disappearing under his waistband, you had to physically look away before you did something stupid like trace it with your tongue. You tried to act normal you really did. But knowing what you knew now made everything feel different. Every interaction had this layer underneath it, like this secret weight that made your chest tight and your pulse throb whenever he got too close. And he kept getting close.
Like friday morning, he leaned over your shoulder to show you something on his phone, and his chest brushed your back, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, and you almost choked on your coffee. He patted your back laughing, and said "You okay?" and you said "fine, went down the wrong pipe," which was such a lie but he didn't question it, just let the hand rest there a beat too long, his thumb brushing the edge of your shoulder blade like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
He caught you staring at him on sunday, while he was playing the guitar again, and instead of looking away like a normal person, you just said "What?" and he smiled slowly, dimples carving deep, and said "Nothing, just glad you're here." His voice dropped on the last word, his eyes flicking down to your mouth for half a second before meeting yours again, and the air between you felt thick enough to taste.
And you almost said it right then, almost told him everything. But you didn't, because you were a coward, and because some part of you wasn't ready to lose this, whatever this was. On monday, he brought something up. "I have something to ask you. The showcase for ENHYPEN, it's this friday. I want you to come."
You blinked. "To the show?"
"Yeah, backstage, obviously. You'd be there with me the whole time." He said it casually like it was obvious, like there was no reason you wouldn't want to. "I think it'd be good to have you there."
"Me? Why?"
He shrugged but there was something in his eyes that said that he wasn't quite serious but wasn't entirely joking either. "Things have been going really well lately. And a lot of that started happening around the same time you showed up."
You laughed like you couldn't help it. "I'm not bringing you luck, Jungwon."
"Aren't you though?" He tilted his head, half smile pulling at his mouth. "Think about it. Before you, everything was falling apart."
You thought about it. You thought about it a lot, actually, because it wasn't much of a coincidence at all. It was literally your luck, living inside him, because you kissed him at a party and the universe decided to redistribute. "I seriously doubt I'm your good luck charm, Jungwon," you said, keeping your voice light.
"Well, I seriously doubt you're not." He pointed his fork at you. "So come, please? For me?" He was faking a pout now, and he was adorable.
"But what if I make everything worse?"
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"I have a good feeling." He was smiling now, and it was devastating, and you hated how easy it was to say yes to him.
"Okay, fine. I'll come." You finally said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You smiled and took a sip of your coffee and didn't say that's because your good luck is literally my good luck that you stole when we kissed at that masquerade ball and you don't even know it. But you almost, almost did.
The venue was bigger than you expected â it wasn't a stadium or anything like that obviously, but it had real lightning and a real sound equipment and a proper stage. Jungwon walked you through the backstage area, nodding at crew member and checking in with the sound engineer, all while keeping one hand loosely on the small of your back in a way that was probably just him guiding you through the crowd but it felt like way more than that.
The dressing room was small and chaotic. When you walked in, all four of them were there: Jay was passing by the door, Sunghoon was sitting on a bench with his eyes closed, drumsticks tapping against his knee, Jake was lying on the floor, I mean literally on the floor, staring at the ceiling while Heeseung was looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his jacket for what was clearly not the first time.
"Everyone," Jungwon said, gesturing to you. "This isâ"
"Yeah, bro, we all know who she is," Jay interrupted without stopping his pacing. "Nice to meet you by the way, I'm Jay."
"It's notâ"Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, while you nodded at Jay, smiling. Jungwon looked at Jake. "Jake? Why are you on the floor?"
"I'm focused," Jake said.
"You're lying down."
"Yeah, I focus better horizontally."
Heeseung turned from the mirror and looked at you properly for the first time, and he studied you for a second, smiling. "So you're the reason Jungwon's been in a good mood lately."
"Iâ What?" Jungwon says.
"You literally smile now, like, at things. It's weird."
"I smiled before," Jungwon said flatly.
You were grinning and you couldn't stop grinning. Jungwon caught your expression and shot you a look that was half embarrassed and half please help me, and you just shrugged enjoying this way too much. Jake finally got up from the floor and dusted himself off, walking over to you. "Nice to officially meet you. We've heard a lot."
"All good things," Jay added quickly, glancing at Jungwon.
"Mostly good things," Sunghoon corrected.
"Okay, everyone out," Jungwon said herding them toward the door. "Warm up. Sound check is in ten. Move."
They filled out one by one, Heeseung even winked at Jungwon in a way that made Jungwon pinch the bridge of his nose, and then it was just the two of you. The room was quieter than it had any right to be at this point, considering a few minutes ago it was full of chaos. Jungwon was leaning against the vanity counter with his arms crossed, and the tension in his shoulders had shifted from manager mode to something else. "So," he said. "They like you, apparently."
"They were just teasing you." You sat down in one of the chairs, calmly, still looking at him. "You okay? For tonight?"
"Nervous." He said it simply. "This is the biggest thing we've ever done, so if it does well⊠it could change everything for us. And if it doesn'tâ"
"It will."
He looked at you. "You don't know that."
"Well, I have a good feeling." You echoed his own words back at him, and he laughed, some of the tension in his jaw loosened. He pushed off the counter and walked toward you. You just stayed there watching him move easily and unhurried. He stopped right in front of your chair, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him.
"Thank you for being here, I mean it." He said, his voice was quieter now and his thighs were bracketing yours.
"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."
He held your gaze for a beat too long, and there was that thing, that charge that had been building between you for weeks. You could feel it in the air and in the way his eyes dropped just for a second to your mouth, lingering on your lips, before coming back up to meet your eyes again. You moved then. Not toward him, no, but away â because you were nervous. And then, of course, a disaster happened.
Your foot caught on the leg on the chair on your way up, the chair rolled backward and you stumbled, your arms pinwheeling, and you were about to hit the floor when his hands caught you; one at your waist, his fingers splaying wide over the curve of your hip, and the other one gripping your arm. Jungwon pulled you forward into him, hard enough that you slammed right into his chest, your breasts pressing flush against the hard planes of him.
Both of you froze. His hands were still on you, one at your waist digging in just enough to feel like a claim, and the other one on your arm was sliding up to your bicep, thumb stroking once and slow. Your palms were flat against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat under your fingers pounding like it wanted out. You looked up and his face was just inches from yours, his eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted.
Neither of you moved, god, neither of you even breathed. And then, from somewhere outside the dressing room door, Jay's voice cut through the silence. "Jungwon! Sound check, let's go!" Jungwon closed his eyes, and you watched his jaw tighten, and he took a slow breath through his nose, like he was physically forcing himself to come back to reality, but he didn't even move his hands. "Jungwon," Jay called again. "Now man. We're running behind."
"Coming," Jungwon said, but his voice came out rougher than he probably intended, like the sound of a man on the edge, and he didn't take his eyes off you.
You should have stepped back or laughed it off, made some joke and let him do his job. But you kept your hands on his chest, fingers slightly curling into the fabric of his shirt, and his hands were still on you and you couldn't move. You couldn't do anything except stand there and look at him and want him so badly it physically hurt. He must have seen it on your face, the raw need, because something in his expression shifted like the restraint cracked just for a second â that's when he kissed you.
It was the kind of kiss that feels like something breaking open. His hand was sliding from your waist to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair and gripping hard, pulling you in, his mouth hard against yours and certain, like he'd been thinking about doing this for weeks now. Because well, he kind of was. And you were shocked, genuinely shocked, your eyes going wide for a second before your brain caught up with your body, and you kissed him back.
You kissed him back like you'd been starving for it because you have. Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt pulling him closer until there was no space left. His other hand came up to your jaw, tilting your head exactly how he wanted, and the kiss deepened in a way that made your knees week. His tongue was sliding against yours slow and deep, claiming every inch, and the sound he made low in his throat was quiet enough that only you could hear it, but it vibrated through your chest and straight between your legs, making you ache for him.
And then when he finally pulled back, not all the way but just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb still tracing along your jaw, then slowly dragging down the column of your throat. You could feel him breathing hard, his chest rising and failing against your hands. "Jungwon!" Jay's voice again, closer now, and you could hear the footsteps in the hallway.
Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut for a second like he was in actual pain. Then he let go of you and stepped back. "I have to go now, okay?" he said. His voice was wrecked, hoarse. He looked at you one time time, his eyes ranking over your swollen lips like he was trying to memorize you and burn the image into his brain for later. He turned then and walked toward the door.
"Wait," you said, but he was already gone. The door swung shut behind him and you just stood there with your lips still tingling, your heart hammering so hard you could actually hear it in your ears, and you pressed your fingers to you mouth.
You kissed Jungwon. Jungwon kissed you. And somewhere in the back of your mind, buried under everything in an almost insignificant thought flickered through: Did it work?
You were about to check like pulling out you phone or find a scratch off app, anything, when you heard noise. Commotion behind the door â security guys sprinting down the hallway outside the dressing room, someone yelling something you didn't catch it and the sound of walkie talkies crackling. You then opened the door and stepped out into the corridor and the first person you saw was Jake, running full speed.
"Jake!" He almost ran right past you but you grabbed his arm. "What's going on?"
He stopped out of breath and his eyes were wide. "Sunghoon's gone."
"What do you mean gone? Gone where?"
"Bro, we don't know. He was right there one second and someone said he fell into some kind of pit behind the stage and now nobody can find him and the show starts in ten minutes and we're literally missing our drummer."
You just didn't know how to react. "He fell into a pit?! Like a hole? How?"
"I don't know! He said he was looking for the bathroom!"
A security guard jogged past you both, and the whole backstage area had descended into this not so controlled panic with people moving fast and everyone looking at everyone else. You let go of Jake's arm. "Go, help them look, I'll find Jungwon."
So you turned the corner toward the main backstage corridor, and that's when you spotted Yoon Jeonghan. He was standing near the production booth with his phone pressed to his ear â he did not look happy at all. He hung up and started pacing, muttering something that you were pretty sure included several words you wouldn't repeat in polite company. Then he saw you, blinked and stopped pacing. "Y/N? What are you doing here?"
"I'm â it's complicated. I'm here with Jungwon."
He looked at you then and it looked like something was flickering across his face, maybe amusement, but he probably didn't have the time for it because he was already shaking his head. "Look, I found out what happened at the ball, and what they did to you, kicking you out like that, was completely unfair." He pointed at you. "If you want a job, I can make it happen. We have an events division and frankly you're way more qualified than half the people we have."
Your mouth opened and then closed. "You serious?"
"I'm dead serious, but right nowâ" he gestured at the chaos around both of you. "Well, right now I have a band that's supposed to go on stage in fifteen minutes and one of their members apparently fell into a hole. And I just signed theses guys last month."
"Okay, I can fix this."
Jeonghan stared at you. "Fix what?"
"This situation. Give me ten minutes."
He looked at you trying to figure it out what you meant. "Ten minutes."
"Yeah. Just â just trust me on this one."
He held up his hands. "I literally have no other option right now, so, cure. Ten minutes. Go."
And finding Jungwon in the chaos of that venue was harder than it should have been. You checked the production booth; not there. The main dressing room, also empty. The corridor near the stage entrance and even security, but no Jungwon. You checked the bathroom, the catering area, even poked your head into a storage closet just in case but nothing.
And then you finally spotted him near the loading dock at the back of the venue, sitting on a concrete step with his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. His hair was a mess, his jacket was halfway off one shoulder, and he looked like someone who had just watched his entire life fall apart in real time. "Hey," you said as you approached him.
He looked up. "Hey." You sat down next to him, and for a second, neither of you said anything. "Everything is falling apart," he said and his voice was flat and tired. "Sunghoon fell into some kind of maintenance shaft and nobody can find him. The lighting rig almost came loose during the pre show check. Jay's mic has been cutting in and out for the last hour. And the sound engineer just told me there's a feedback issue he can't figure out." He laughed, but it was hollow. "It's like it all started again. All at once." He dropped his head into his hands. "I thought it was over, I thought the bad luck was done."
You looked at him and your chest ached. Because you knew, you knew exactly why this was happening. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong, right on schedule because apparently that's how it works when the universe decides to rebalance.
And it was your fault. So you grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him toward you and kissed him again. You grabbed him hard enough that he stumbled forward, one hand instinctively coming up to catch himself against the step, and your other hand was shaking, and your eyes were burning in a way that had nothing to do with the dusty air. His hand came up to the back of your neck pulling you closer, responding almost immediately.
When you pulled back, you were breathing hard, and he was looking at you with this expression that was equal parts confused and completely wrecked. "What was that abâ"
And then the music started. Not the pre show stuff but the opening notes of their first song and the crowd erupted. You both turned toward the stage entrance, and that's when you saw through the side door, visible from where you were sitting and there, climbing up onto the drum platform from a maintenance ladder behind the kit, covered in dust grinning like an idiot, Sunghoon. He'd been in the maintenance shaft the entire time. The shaft that connected directly to the raised platform behind the drum kit.
Jake was already at the mic, laughing. Heeseung was strapping on his guitar, shaking his head. Jay caught Sunghoon's eye from across the stage and just mouthed something that made Sunghoon flip him off. The show was starting, so Jungwon stood up slowly, still staring at the stage and then he turned back to you. "How didâ" he started.
"Go," you said. "They need you."
He looked at you, at the stage and then back at you. "But I really want to kiss you again right now," he said.
"Later." You pushed him gently toward the stage door. "Go. Work. Be amazing."
He took a step backward still looking at you and that half smile pulling at his mouth. "You know we're not done talking about this right?"
"I know."
He turned and jogged toward the stage, and you watched him disappear through the side door and then you sat back down on the concrete step, alone, and pressed your hands to your face. And somewhere in your chest, something was cracking open. You stayed there for a minute, maybe two, trying to breathe normally, trying to think. Then you got up, wiped your face with the back of your hand, and walked back inside. You could see the stage from here but not all of it, just a sliver through the gap in the curtain. The crowd was already on their feet, phones up, and Jungwon was standing at the side of the stage with his headset on, watching them.
This was everything they'd been working toward, everything he'd been working toward. And it was happening because you kissed him, because you gave him back his luck. Your vision blurred and you blinked but it didn't help, so you just turned and walked away before anyone could see.
The apartment was too quiet when you got back and you stood in the doorway for a second, staring at the living room. Two coffee mugs sat on the table, one of them yours, the handle chipped from when you'd knocked it against the sink last week. The blanket you used at night was folded on the chair. It looked lived in, it looked like two people lived here. Because it did.
You went to the guest room and started packing and since you didn't have much it took maybe ten minutes. When you were done, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the far wall. The apartment was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen, so you thought about Jungwon coming home later, late probably, after one of his best nights ever and finding you gone.
You thought about the look on his face and your throat got tight. You found a notepad and you stared at the blank page for a long time before you picked up the pen.
jungwon, i'm sorry. i know that's not enough, but i don't know what else to say. i can't stay. i thought i could figure this out, but i can't. every time i'm around you, things get complicated, and i don't know how to fix it without making everything worse. you're going to do incredible things. tonight proved that. you and the guys are going to be huge, and you deserve all of it. you worked so hard for this. thank you for everything. for letting me stay. for the coffee and the terrible toast that one time. for being kind when i didn't deserve it. i hope you understand.
You stopped and stared at what you'd written and thought about adding more â something about the masquerade ball, the fortune teller, the kiss â but what would that even do? He'd think you were losing it and honestly maybe you were. You signed it with just your name and left it on the kitchen counter, then you grabbed your bag, took one last look around, and left.
Sunoo opened the door before you could knock. "I saw you coming up the street," then he looked at your bag and at your face. "Oh no."
"Can I come in?"
"Obviously, come in." Sunoo sat down next to you and didn't say anything. "I kissed him, everything fell apart and then I kissed him again at the venue, right before the show. And then everything started going right again. Because I gave him the luck back." You looked up and your eyes were burning. "And if I stay, if I keep doing this, I'm going to ruin his life because every time I kiss him, it switches. I can't do that to him."
"Did you tell him any of this?"
"No."
"So you just left."
"I left a note."
"Are you serious right now?"
"What was I supposed to do Sunoo?!"
"I don't know, maybe talk to him? Like an adult?"
"And say what? Hey, by the way, I'm the reason your life fell apart and then got better and if we keep kissing it's going to keep yo-yoing forever?"
"Yes. Exactly that."
You looked at him. "He'd think I'm insane."
"He probably already thinks you're a little insane. You've been living in his apartment for weeks." Sunoo leaned back, arms crossed. "He's going to come looking for you, you know."
"Then I won't answer."
"You're going to hide in my apartment forever?"
"If I have to," you said. Sunoo made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "You're the dumbest smart person I know. This is genuinely the worst decision you've ever made." Your phone buzzed then and it was Jungwon, and you and Sunoo looked at it.
jungwon: show was amazing. where are you? want to grab food?
Your chest hurt and flipped the phone face down on your lap. You didn't answer, you just sat there on the world's worst couch and tried not to think about the way Jungwon's hand had felt on the back of your neck. The way he'd looked at you before he ran to the stage. The way he'd said you know we're not done talking about this, right? And then your phone buzzed again.
jungwon: you okay?
You turned it off. And you were absolutely miserable for the next few days. You kept your phone completely off shoved in the bottom of your bag where you wouldn't be tempted to turn it back on just to see if he'd texted again. You barely left Sunoo's apartment, you sat on the couch with the blanket pulled up to your chin and stared at the TV without actually watching anything. Sunoo would leave for work in the morning and come back in the evening with takeout, and you'd eat because he was looking at you like he was worried you'd forget to, and then you'd go back to staring at nothing.
One day you finally turned your phone on just for a minute, just to see. Fifteen missed calls and twenty three texts, most of them from Jungwon. A few from numbers you didn't recognize â probably the guys, or Jeonghan. But you didn't read any of them, you turned the phone off again and handed it to Sunoo and told him to hide it somewhere you wouldn't find it.
Eventually you started to feel like a person again. Not a good person, not a functional person, but a person. You showered and you changed out of the clothes you'd been wearing for days straight. You sat at Sunoo's tiny kitchen table and drank coffee and stared out the window at the street below and thought about what you were going to do next. You couldn't stay here forever, Sunoo's apartment was barely big enough for him, and you were taking up his couch and his space and his emotional energy and it wasn't fair. You needed to figure out a plan so you called your mom and told her you were staying there for a while, and she obviously said yes.
You packed what little you had and tried not to think about the apartment you'd left behind, tried not to think about Jungwon. You tried not to think about the way he'd kissed you in the dressing room, or the way his hand had felt on your neck or the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth keeping. But you thought about it anyway, you thought about it all the time, actually. It sat in your chest like a weight you couldn't shift heavy and constant and aching in a way that made it hard to breathe sometimes.
So when the day came, you sat on a bench in the park across from your old building with your bag at your feet, an hour before your train to your hometown was supposed to leave. Sunoo had offered to come with you to the station but you'd told him no, that you wanted to do this part alone, and he'd hugged you at the door and told you to text him when you got to your mom's and you'd promised you would. Now you were just sitting, watching people walk by â couples holding hands, someone walking a dog. Just people living their normal luck-curse-free lives.
You thought about everything you'd had a month ago. The job, the apartment. the confidence that came from being someone who had their life together, someone people looked at and thought had it figured out. Thought about how you'd lost all of that in one night. But none of it â none of the job or the apartment or your carefully constructed life â hurt as much as this. Losing Jungwon hurt more than all of it combined.
You were standing there staring at the pavement and trying to convince yourself that leaving him was the right then to do, when you heard your name. Quiet and almost hesitant like the person saying it wasn't sure it was really you. You looked up and Jungwon was standing ten feet away and he looked wrecked. His hair was a mess and he had dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn't a good night of sleep in days.
He looked at you and his expression did something complicated â relief, anger, hurt, all of it at once. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he said.
You stood up. "Jungwonâ"
"You left." His voice cracked a little on the word. "You just â you left a note and disappeared, and I've been calling you for a week, and Sunoo wouldn't tell me where you were, and I thoughtâ" He stopped and took a breath. "I thought something happened to you."
"I'm fine."
"Are you though? Because you're sitting on a bench with a suitcase looking like you're about to get on a train and never come back." You didn't say anything because he was right, so he took a step closer. "Can we talk? Please. Just five minutes, that's all I'm asking."
"Jungwon, I can'tâ"
"Five minutes."
You looked at him, at the way his jaw was tight and at the way he was looking at you like if you said no he might actually break. "Okay, five minutes."
He sat down on the bench. You sat next to him leaving space between you, and for a long moment neither of you said anything. "Why did you leave?" He asked eventually.
You stared at your hands. "It's complicated."
"So explain it to me." His eyes were pleading.
So you took a breath and let it out slowly. "Do you remember the masquerade ball? The one you worked as a waiter?"
He blinked. "Yeah?"
You turned to look at him. "Do you remember kissing someone that night?"
He went very still. "Iâ" He stopped. "Yeah. I do."
"That was me."
The silence that followed was so thick. "You," he said slowly. "You were the girlâ"
"Yeah."
You watched him try to piece it together, watched his brain work through it. "So that's why you seemed familiar. That's whyâ" He stopped again. "Wait. If you knew it was me, why didn't you say anything?"
"Because it's not just that." You were talking faster now, in a rush because if you stopped you'd lose your nerve. "There was a fortune teller at the party. She told me my luck was about to run out and I thought she was full of it, but then we kissed, and everything in my life fell apart. I lost my job, my apartment, everything. And at the same time, your life got better. The band got signed, you moved into a nicer place, everything started going right for you."
He was staring at you. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying the kiss transferred my luck to you, Jungwon. I know how that sounds, I know I sound insane and I know you probably think I'm completely insane right now, but I swear I'm telling the truth. The fortune teller said it happens sometimes â when someone with a lot of good luck kisses someone with a lot of bad luck, it balances out apparently. And that's what happened to us I think." Jungwon didn't say anything, looking at you like he was trying to figure out if you were serious. "And then, when I kissed you again at the venue, before the show â I gave you the luck back. That's why everything went right that night. That's why the show was perfect. But it also means I took it away from myself again, and if I stay, if we keep doing this, it's just going to keep switching back and forth, and I can'tâ" Your voice broke. "I can't keep doing that to you. I can't ruin your life every time I want to be near you."
The silence stretched out. A car drove by. Someone laughed on the other side of the park. The world kept moving and you sat there waiting for him to say something, anything. "So you left because you thought you were protecting me. By disappearing without explaining any of this."
"I didn't think you'd believe me."
"You didn't even give me the chance, Y/N!"
You stood up and you looked down at your hands. "I know."
"Do you?" He stood up with you and his voice was sharper. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you made a decision for both of us without asking what I wanted. You decided I was better off without you and just left."
"You are better offâ"
"Don't." He cut you off. "Don't tell me what I want. Don't tell me what's better for me."
"Jungwonâ"
"I don't care about the luck." He was looking right at you now and his eyes bright and intense. "I don't care if it switches every time we're together. I don't care if everything falls apart again. I just want you to stay."
Your throat closed up. "You don't know what you're sayingâ"
"I know exactly what I'm saying." He reached out and took your hand. "I'm saying I don't care about any of it. Not even the band or the contract because it doesn't mean anything if you're not there with me."
You were crying now. You didn't know when it started, but your face was wet and your vision was blurred and you couldn't stop. "I'm going to ruin everything for you," you said.
"Then ruin it," he said simply. "I don't care."
"Jungwonâ"
"Stay." His voice broke on the word. "Please. Just stay."
You looked at him, at how you were completely in love with this guy and you thought about the train ticket in your pocket â the plan to start over, the clean break you wanted. And then you thought about his laugh, about the way he looked at you like you were the best part of his day. You were completely in love with Jungwon.
"I'm scared, Won," you whispered.
"I'm scared too, love. But we will make it work. I promise you." His eyes were glassy and he was looking at you with that look â that down bad look he gave you countless times before.
You were so tired of running. "Okay."
He blinked. "Okay?"
"Okay. I'll stay."
For a second he didn't move like he was afraid he'd heard you wrong, like if he reacted too fast you'd take it back. And then his face broke into this smile, the one that made your chest ache because it was so openly, devastatingly happy. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He pulled you toward him and you went, and then his arms were around you and his face was buried in your hair and you could feel him breathing, could feel the way his hands gripped the back of your jacket like he was holding on for dear life. "Don't do that again," he said into your shoulder. "Don't just leave."
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise." He pulled back just enough to look at you and his hands came up to your face, thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn't realized were still falling. His eyes were searching yours like he was checking to make sure you meant it. "I'm sorry," you said. "I should've told you. I should'veâ"
"Stop," he said gently. "Don't apologize."
"Butâ"
"We'll figure it out. The luck thing, all of it. I don't care how complicated it is. We'll figure it out together."
And then, finally, he kissed you carefully like he was giving you a chance to change your mind, but when you leaned into him he kissed you deeper. His hand slid to the back of your neck and his fingers threading into your hair, and the other stayed on your face. When he pulled back, it was only for a second. "Hi," he said, and there was that smile again.
"Hi," you giggled.
And then he kissed you again, this time with more confidence and more certainty, his mouth moving against yours like he was making up for lost time. You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up to his shoulders, then to his neck. He pulled back again with his forehead resting against yours. "One more," he murmured.
"You're keeping count?"
"No. Definitely not keeping count."
He kissed you again, and again, and again, and you didn't care that you were in public, that people were probably staring, that your train was leaving in forty minutes and you weren't going to be on it. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard, and he was grinning like an idiot. "I have no idea who has the luck right now."
You laughed and it felt like something breaking open in your chest, something that had been wound too tight for too long. "Me neither."
"Good. Let's keep it that way." He kissed you one more time and when he pulled away he kept his forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed, just breathing with you. "So," he said after a minute. "What do we do about the train ticket?"
"I don't know. Refund?"
"I vote for that option."
His hand sliding down to lace with yours and he looked at you like he was still trying to convince himself you were real. "Come home," he said. "Please. Come back to the apartment."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. I've been sure since the day you showed up soaking wet with a broken umbrella." He squeezed your hand. "I want you there. I want you to stay."
You looked at him and you thought about the place that slowly started feeling like yours too. "Okay, let's go home."
His smile was so bright it could've powered the entire city. He grabbed your bag off the ground and you walked next to him with your hand still in his, and he didn't let go the entire way back. Not when you crossed the street, not when you got to his building, not even when he had to dig his keys out of his pocket with his free hand. When you got to the apartment, he dropped your bag by the door and turned to you. "For the record," he said, "I'm never letting you leave again."
"Is that a threat?"
"Yeah, and I'm definitely kidnapping you this time."
You laughed and then he kissed you again right there in the doorway, and you kissed him back, and he didn't break the kiss right away. Instead he backed you up slowly step by step until your back met the door with a soft thud. His hands slid up to frame your face and he pulled back just enough to look at you. "God, baby," he murmured and he pressed a finger to your lips, then replaced it with his mouth with a quick teasing kiss. "I'm gonna kiss you so many times tonight the universe is gonna run out of bad luck and just start handing us infinite good fortune." He laughed softly against your mouth. "Starting right now."
Before you could answer he kissed you again deeper, his tongue sliding slow against yours. His hands moved, one sliding down to grip your hip and the other tangling in your hair, and he pressed his body flush against yours pinning you gently but firmly to the door. You made a small needy sound into his mouth and he groaned in response, pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips. "You're so perfect, fuckâ"
Your knees went weak and he must have felt it because his arm wrapped around your waist steadying you, and then he scooped you up like you weighed nothing. You gasped as your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips and your arms looped around his neck. "Easy," he said grinning as he carried you toward the kitchen. "I've got you."
He set you down on the counter but he didn't step back. Instead he stepped between your legs with his hands sliding up your thighs to rest at your hips. He leaned in close and said "look at me," softly, his voice dipping into that gentle command. You did and his eyes were locked on yours, intense, adoring, a little hungry, and he tilted his head. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured. "My pretty girl." His thumb dragged along your bottom lip parting it slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you like this."
He kissed you again while one hand slid up under your shirt, his palm flat against the bare skin of your back pulling you closer. You moaned softly and he rewarded you with a low hum, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth along your jaw down the side of your neck. He nipped lightly at your collarbone then soothed it with his tongue. "Tell me if it's too much," he said.
You nodded breathless. "I want you, Won."
His smile turned downright sinful. Jungwon kissed you again more possessively, his hands roaming freely now, one sliding up to cup the back of your neck and the other slipping under your shirt to trace the curve of your spine. You tugged at his hair pulling him closer, and he groaned into your mouth, hips rocking forward once, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you. He broke the kiss just enough to breathe. "Fuck," he whispered. "Are you okay? We can slow down. Or stop, whatever you need."
You shook your head quickly and your fingers tightening in his hair. "Donât stop, please"
His eyes searched yours for a long second. "Okay." He kissed you once more then pulled back just enough to look down between you, at where your thighs were still wrapped loosely around his hips on the counter. His hands settled on the tops of your legs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over the denim. "Can I touch you?" he asked quietly, voice almost shy despite everything. "Please?"
Your heart stuttered at the way he asked earnest and almost pleading. "Yeah," you whispered. "Yeah, you can."
His smile was instant. "Thank you, baby." He kissed you one more time grateful, then slid his hands down to the button of your jeans. He popped it open slowly and his fingers hooked into the waistband tugging gently. "Lift up for me?" he murmured.
You braced your hands behind you on the counter and lifted your hips just enough. He peeled the jeans down your thighs carefully so as not to rush, then he dropped to his knees between your legs right there on the kitchen floor and your breath caught hard. He looked up at you with eyes wide and reverent, hands resting on the outside of your thighs. "Youâre so beautiful," he said simply. "Look at you. All pretty just for me."
He leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the inside of your knee, just a brush of lips, and then another a little higher, teasing the sensitive skin with feather light kisses, occasionally letting his tongue flick out just enough to make you shiver. "JungwonâŠ" Your voice came out small and needy.
"I know baby," he murmured against your thigh. "Just relax for me okay? Let me take care of you." He kissed higher open mouthed now, sucking lightly just below where your thigh met your hip. His hands slid up to hook under your knees spreading your legs wider so he could fit himself closer. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but the way he looked at you made it feel safe instead of scary. He nuzzled the damp cotton of your underwear, nose brushing the most sensitive part of you through the fabric and you gasped. "Already so wet f'me," he said, voice low and awed. "Fuck, that's perfect. You're perfect."
He hooked two fingers into the side of your panties and tugged them down agonizingly slowly until they were off and tossed somewhere behind him. Then he looked up at you again, eyes dark with want but still so gentle. You nodded breathlessly and that seemed to unravel something in him. He leaned in and kissed you there, not diving in, not yet, just a closed mouth press right over your clit. Then another and another tiny reverent kisses. "You taste so good baby," he murmured between kisses. "Just from this. My good girl..." Finally he flattened his tongue and licked one long, slow stripe up your center. You moaned, head falling back, and he groaned in response. "That's it, let me hear you baby."
He did it again slower circling your clit with the softest pressure before pulling back to kiss like it was your mouth, and your hips bucked involuntarily. Jungwon felt the way your hips jerked up and just pressed his palm firmer against your thigh, keeping you right where he wanted you. The sounds were filthy in the quiet kitchen: wet, soft, the occasional quiet suck when he sealed his lips around your clit again. Your fingers tightened in his hair and he let out this low, pleased hum that vibrated straight through you. "Fuck," you breathed, hips twitching.
You were getting louder without meaning to and he didn't shush you or tell you to be quiet. He just groaned against you like the sounds were turning him on more. When your breathing hitched hard and your whole body tensed, he didn't speed up, he just stayed exactly where he was. Your back arched off the counter, a choked "Jungwonâ" slipping out as you came, thighs squeezing around his head, fingers yanking his hair hard.
He didn't flinch, he just kept licking you soft and slow through the aftershocks until you were whimpering and pushing weakly at his forehead. "Fuck that was so hot," he murmured, finally pulling back. His lips were shiny and his chin wet, then he stood up slowly leaning over you to kiss you, letting you taste yourself. You were still catching your breath when he broke the kiss. "You good?" he asked.
"Yeah," you managed, voice wrecked. "That was⊠yeah."
He smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth. "Good." Then he hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you off the counter and you wrapped your legs around him in reflex and he carried you down the hallway. He kicked his bedroom door shut with his heel and walked over to the bed, set you down in the middle, then he climbed over you shifting his weight, bracing on his forearms and looked down at your face for a second. "What do you want now, mhm?" he asked, then he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth. "I'm down for whatever you want, baby. Just tell me."
You reached up, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to kiss him. He let you, melting into the kiss, and when you broke apart you were both breathing a little harder. "I want you, so much," you said simply.Â
He exhaled through his nose a relieved sound, and kissed you again before trailing his lips down your jaw then your neck. He found the spot just under your ear and sucked lightly, humming when you shivered. "Me too, love. You're so fucking pretty, I can't get over it." Another kiss, lower, along your collarbone, then down to the center of your chest, right between your breasts, his lips brushing the fabric of your shirt. "This body⊠fuck, it's all mine tonight, yeah?"
You laughed softly and a little breathless, and he kept going, pushing your shirt up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered. Stomach, the dip of your waist, the curve under your ribs. "Gosh look at you," he breathed, lips grazing the underside of your breast. He kissed there, then higher, his tongue flicking over your nipple before he took it into his mouth while his hand cupped the other one. You arched a little, fingers tightening in his hair, and he groaned low against you. "Love the way you sound when I touch you," he said, switching sides, giving the same careful attention. "Makes me crazy."
He spent minutes like that and eventually he kissed his way back up, settling between your legs again, hard and obvious against you through his sweats. He rocked once slowly letting you feel him then dropped his forehead to yours. "Baby," he whispered. "I want to be inside you so bad."
You smiled and before he could say anything else you pushed at his shoulders until he rolled onto his back with a surprised little huff. Now you were the one hovering over him, straddling his hips with your hands braced on his chest. His eyes widened for a second, then softened while his lips curved intoa lazy smile. "Oh?" he said, voice teasing. "You taking over now?"
"Yeah," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him slowly and deep, letting your tongue slide against his until he groaned into your mouth. You pulled back just enough to speak against his lips. "My turn to make you feel good."
You kissed down his jaw, then his neck, mirroring what he'd done to you, smiling when his hips jerked up under you. "Fuck," he breathed, hands settling on your waist. "You're gonna kill me love."
You kept going down his chest, lips brushing over the cotton of his shirt first, and you could tell how much he liked it by the way his stomach flexed under every kiss. You slid your hands under the hem pushing the fabric up and exposing the smooth toned plane of his stomach. He had that subtle definition, just lean and strong, a faint happy trail started just below his navel leading down. You followed it with your tongue with a deliberate stripe right up the center of his abs and Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath, his abs jumping under your mouth. "FuckâŠ" he exhaled, voice wrecked. His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through gently.
You kissed lower, lips tracing the sharp cut of his hipbone then the other side and every time you got close to the waistband of his sweats you'd pull back just enough to kiss the skin right above it. "Baby," he murmured, half laugh and half plea. "You're killing me here."
You looked up at him through your lashes, smirking. "Good." He was breathing harder now, and you palmed him over the fabric with a slow drag of your hand from base to tip, feeling how thick and hard he already was. The outline was obscene and long enough that the head pushed against the waistband, thick enough that your fingers didn't quite meet when you wrapped around him. "So pretty," you said softly with your eyes locked on his.Â
He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan when you squeezed just a little. "You have no fucking idea what you do to me," he rasped biting his bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark.
You tugged the waistband down finally letting the elastic catch on the head for a second before you pulled it past. He sprang free and heavy against his stomach, flushed dark at the tip, already glistening with precum that beaded at the slit and slid down the underside in a thin line. You wrapped your fingers around him then you stroked once, slow from root to tip, thumb swiping over the head to spread the precum. Jungwon's head fell back against the pillow with a thud. "Shit â fuck, babyâŠ"
You did it again slowly and watched every reaction. "Feels good?" you asked teasingly.
"So fucking good," he groaned and his hips lifting into your hand before he caught himself. "Don't â don't tease too much, please. I'm already losing it." But you did tease just a little more. You leaned down and kissed the inside of his thigh then higher, right at the crease where leg met hip, letting your breath ghost over him without touching. He whined low and needy. "Baby, pleaseâŠ" His voice cracked on the word and his fingers in your hair tightened. "Please put your mouth on me. I need it. Need you." You smiled against his skin, then finally gave in and you licked a slow flat stripe from base to tip and his whole body jerked. "Oh god â fuck yes," he gasped and his voice breaking. "Just like that. Fuck, your tongueâŠ"
You swirled around the head with slow circles, then flicked the underside and he cursed under his breath, hips stuttering up. "Baby â shit, you're so good at this, fuck I love your mouth." You took him in properly then, sucking his length while your tongue pressed flat against the slit. He moaned loud and unrestrained. "Yes â yes, fuck, suck it like that," he babbled, voice wrecked and so, so vocal. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
You bobbed down further until he hit the back of your throat and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder on the pull up, hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. His breathing turned ragged, moans spilling out nonstop. "Fuck baby, you're gonna make me come so fast," he groaned, fingers flexing in your hair. You hummed around him and he practically sobbed. "Baby fuck, do that again. Please. I'm âshit, I'm so close already."
You picked up the pace just enough and your hand twisting at the base while your tongue worked the head on every upstroke. His hips were jerking in helpless thrusts and his voice cracking on every word. "Gonna come baby, I'm gonna come," he warned, desperate. "Where â fuck, where do you want it?"
You pulled off just long enough to whisper, "In my mouth." Then you took him deep again sucking hard, and he broke. "Fuck yesâ fuck babyâ" His whole body locked up and his hips snapped forward once as he came with a loud moan, spilling hot and thick down your throat. You swallowed around him working him through every pulse until he was whimpering from overstimulation, hand gently tugging you off.
He collapsed back and his eyes were glassy as he looked down at you. "Holy shit," he breathed. "Come here." He pulled you up immediately with his strong arms wrapping around you, rolling so you were half on top of him. He kissed you messy and deep, tasting himself on your tongue then softer hands stroking your back like he was grounding himself. "You're insane," he murmured against your lips, still catching his breath. You laughed quietly, pressing your face into his neck. "Still want inside you," he added. "Soon as I can breathe again."
You laughed a breathless giggle and leaned in to kiss his face everywhere. Soft pecks on his forehead and his eyelids then the tip of his nose, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes, smiling lazily, letting you do whatever you wanted while his hands rubbed slow circles on your back. "The universe must be confused as hell right now with all the kisses we've been throwing around," he murmured, voice still a little rough, his eyes opening n to meet yours with that playful glint.
You grinned, pressing one more kiss to his jaw. "I have no idea who's got the luck right now."
"Well I don't know," he said, smirking, "but I'm feeling pretty damn lucky."
Before you could respond, he shifted and his arms wrapped around your waist as he rolled you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling over you. He caught your hands and lacing his fingers through yours and pinning them gently above your head. Then he kissed your face just like you'd done to him: forehead, cheeks, nose, eyelids. "I'm so crazy about you," he whispered against your temple. "Like stupid crazy."
He released your hands but kept his fingers tangled with yours on one side, using the free one to slide under your shirt again. He tugged it up slowly and kissing the skin as it appeared until he could pull it over your head and toss it aside. His mouth was everywhere then and he took his time sucking lightly on one nipple while his thumb brushed the other, humming low in his throat when you arched into him. "Fuck you're gorgeous," he murmured between kisses.
He settled between your legs again, hard against you, and rocked slowly with his tip teasing your clit with the blunt pressure then dipping just barely against your entrance. Back and forth, slow drags that made you gasp, hips lifting to chase more. "Feel that? How bad I want you?" But then he paused as a small self deprecating laugh escaping him. "Shit, wait. I don't wanna push my luck here. Need a condom before I... yeah."
You laughed too, nodding. "Yeah, good call."
He kissed you quick then rolled off to grab one from his nightstand drawer. He tore the wrapper with his teeth, rolling it on with quick, his yes flicking back to you the whole time like he couldn't look away. Then he was back over you settling between your thighs, one hand bracing beside your head while the other guided himself. He teased again with just the tip circling your entrance pressing in barely an inch before pulling back, watching your face. "Ready baby?" he asked.
You nodded. "Please, Won."
He pushed in slow stretching you inch by inch, the burn intense as your body adjusted to him. He was thick, filling you up so completely that you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned low against your neck, "Fuck," he rasped. "You feel... so good. So tight around me. You okay?"
"Yeah," you whispered, rolling your hips experimentally making you both moan. "Move. Please move."
He did, slowly pulled out then deep thrusting back in, building a rhythm that had the bed creaking quietly under you. He kept that slow, deep rhythm at first pulling almost all the way out just to slide back in with a deliberate grind. The stretch was perfect bordering on too much, his thickness filling you so completely that you could feel every ridge. Sweat slicked between your bodies, and you could hear the quiet creak of the bed mixed with the wet obscene sounds of him moving inside you.
"Fuck baby, you feel so good," Jungwon whined, voice high. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut for a second before they fluttered open, locking on you with this desperate look. "So tight... God, I can'tâ I can't. You're driving me insane."
You whimpered back, hands clawing at his back. "Jungwon â please, harder... need you deeper," you begged, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. It felt so good it almost hurt, that sweet ache building low in your belly, but you wanted more, wanted him to ruin you.
He groaned loud, a shaky, obsessed sound, and picked up the pace with his thrusts turning sharper, hips snapping forward with a wet slap each time. "Like that? Fuck yes â tell me, baby." His mouth crashed against your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise. One hand slid down to grip your thigh, hitching it higher around his waist so he could angle deeper, hitting that spot that made you see white.
"Oh god â right there," you cried out. "You're so big..."
"Fuck I love this pussy..." He was babbling now completely unfiltered, hips stuttering as he chased the feeling, his free hand roaming everywhere, squeezing your breast, thumb flicking your nipple hard. You pulled him down for a messy kiss, both of you whining into each other's mouths. "Want on top, let me ride you â please, Won," you whined.
He let out a broken moan at that. "Yeah? Fuck â yes, baby." He rolled you both over and settled on his back with you straddling his hips, his cock still buried deep inside you and the new angle made you gasp. You braced your hands on his chest and started moving with slow rolls at first, grinding your clit against his pelvis. He looked up at you like you were a goddess, hands gripping your hips hard. "Holy shit â you look so hot like this," he whined with his hips bucking up weakly to meet you. "Bouncing on my cock... fuck, your tits â play with them for me? Please baby, wanna see."
You did, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples, moaning whiny and loud as you picked up speed, lifting and dropping harder now. "Like this?"
He threw his head back, throat exposed and bobbing with a swallow, a needy whine escaping him. "Yes fuck, just like that." You leaned down sinking your teeth into his shoulder enough to make him hiss and buck wildly under you, his hands sliding to your ass to squeeze and guide your movements. "Fuck yes, like that, gonna come if you keep, shit, baby."
You tightened around him on purpose as you rode him. "Oh god baby, fuck, do it again," so you did and he gasped and his voice was cracking, hips jerking up hard enough to make you bounce. His hands flew to your ass, gripping tight and then on instinct, he lifted one palm and brought it down in a sharp smack right across your cheek. You moaned loud and shameless. Jungwon froze for half a second, eyes widening like he'd just discovered something dangerous, then he saw the way your back arched, the way you clenched even tighter around him, and his expression shifted. "You liked that yeah?" he rasped while his palm was rubbing over the warm spot he'd just hit. "Fuck⊠you really liked that huh?"
You nodded fast, biting your lip. "Yeah, fuck, do it again. Please."
He groaned like the word alone almost finished him off. Another smack harder this time and you cried out, grinding down harder on his cock. "Goddamn, love, such a good girl for me⊠taking it so well." He squeezed your ass possessively then delivered one more controlled slap. "Turn around," he said suddenly, voice firm. "On your hands and knees. Now."
You scrambled off him and got into position with your ass up and your back arched. You looked back over your shoulder, while Jungwon sat up behind you, hands roaming over your hips, your waist, your back like he couldn't decide where to touch first. "Fuck princess, you're dripping down your thighs. Fuck, I'm obsessed."
He lined himself up again with his tip nudging your entrance, teasing for just a second then he pushed in slowly at first, and you both moaned at the same time, filthy. "So deep," you whined, pushing back against him. "Jungwon â please⊠fuck me hard."
His grip tightened on your hips and he started thrusting fast, really fast, slapping against your ass with every stroke, the bedframe rattled against the wall. "Fuck fuck, baby, listen to that," he panted. "You love it rough, don't you? Love when I fuck you like this?"
"Yes yes, oh gosh yes," you cried, pushing back to meet every thrust, hands fisting the sheets. "Harder please, Jungwon, don't stopâ"
He leaned over you with his chest pressing to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other slid between your legs. His fingers found your clit rubbing fast circles that matched the brutal rhythm of his hips. "Come for me again," he begged, voice whiny and commanding at the same time. "Please, baby milk me, I need it around my cock."
You were already close, the angle hitting that spot over and over and his fingers relentless while your moans turned into broken sobs. "Jungwon, I'm â fuck, I'm gonnaâ"
"Do it," he growled against your ear. "Be a good girl and come for me, yeah?" You shattered with your back arching hard, walls clamping down around him in fluttering pulses as you came with a wrecked cry of his name. Your whole body shook, vision blurring. He fucked you through it fast and sloppy now, chasing his own high. "Fuck baby, that's it, milk me, shit, I'm so close â gonna come â"
"Come for me, Won, please â" you whined, pushing back weakly.
That sent him over. He slammed in one last time deeply, his hips flush against your ass and came with a long, broken moan that sounded almost pained, his cock pulsing hard inside you as he spilled into the condom. His whole body shuddered, arms wrapping tight around you from behind, holding you close while he rode out the aftershocks.
He stayed buried inside you for a good minute after he came, bath of you breathing hard while his chest was plastered to you back and his arms locked around your middle. His face was tucked into the side of your neck and every few seconds he would press a lazy kiss there. Eventually he pulled out slowly and carefully, hissing a little through his teeth when the cool air hit him. "Fuck that was intense," he muttered as he rolled the condom off and tied it quick, chucking it toward the trash can by the desk.
You laughed, still face down on the mattress. "Yeah, it really wasâŠ"
He flopped down beside you, one arm slinging over your waist pulling you sideways so you were kind of snooping, as his fingers started tracing lazy patterns on your hip. Â "You okay my love? I kinda went feral at the end there."
You turned your head enough to look at him. His hair was a disaster, sticking up everywhere and his cheeks were super flushed, but he was smiling and it was disarming. "More than okay. My legs are jelly, though. And my ass is gonna remind me of you tomorrow."
He grinned with that boyish grin. "That's good, a souvenir." Then he leaned in and kissed your shoulder right over one of the little red marks he'd left earlier. "Sorry if I got too carried away. You just⊠you really make me lose my mind, you know?"
"Same here," you admitted, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair.
He hummed pleased and pulled you closer. "So," he said, as his thumb was circling sweet circles on your ribs. "Do you think we switched again?"
You laughed. "Honestly I have no idea. I wasn't exactly keeping track."
"Yeah, me neither." He nuzzled into your neck. "I was a little distracted."
"Just a little?"
"Okay, extremely. You're very distracting, baby."
You smiled, turning in his arms so you were facing him properly. His eyes were half closed and there was this softness to his expression that made your chest feel tight in the best way. "I don't think I care," you said quietly.
"About the luck?"
"Yeah, I mean I thought I did. I thought it was this whole big thing we had to figure out, but now I'm just like..." You trailed off not sure how to explain it.
"You're like what?" He was really looking at you now and his hand came down to reach yours and give a light hearted kiss on your palm.
"I don't know. I think maybe I had it backwards. I thought losing my luck was the worst thing that could happen to me, but then I met you and â" You stopped feeling your face heat up. "That sounds so cheesy."
"No, keep going. I wanna hear this." He was grinning now, that charming asshole grin.
"I'm not gonna keep going if you're gonna be smug about it."
"Smug? I'm not being smug," he smirked, teasing you.
"You're absolutely being smug."
"Okay, maybe a little." He kissed the tip of your nose. "But seriously. Keep going."
You sighed but you were smiling too. "I just mean... meeting you was lucky. Even if everything else fell apart. Meeting you made all of it worth it."
His expression did something vulnerable and a little overwhelmed like he wasn't expecting you to say that. His hand was on your face and his thumb was brushing over your cheek. "Yeah?" he said quietly.
"Yeah."
"You mean that?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."
He was quiet for a second, just looking at you, and then he pulled you closer and kissed you. It was different from before, just sweet and slow. "I'm in love with you," he said when he pulled back. "Just so you know."
Your breath caught. "What?"
"I'm in love with you." He said it again. "I think I have been for a while. Since before the showcase, probably. Maybe since you showed up soaking wet with that broken umbrella and got in my car without even thinking about it. Hell I fell in love with you at that ball even though you were wearing a mask and I didn't know your name."
"Jungwonâ"
"I know everything is messy," he continued talking faster now like he was worried you'd interrupt. "And I know everything's been kinda insane with the luck thing and you leaving and me being a mess about it, but I don't care. I'm in love with you. And I just, I wanted you to know that." You stared at him. Your heart was doing something cartwheels and your eyes were getting hot, and you didn't know what to say. "You don't have to say it back by the way," he added quickly. "I'm not â this isn't me trying to pressure you or anything. I just wanted to tell you because it's true."
"You're an idiot," you said and your voice was shaking.
He blinked. "That's not usually the response â"
"I'm in love with you too, you idiot."
His face broke into the biggest smile you'd ever seen. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Obviously. Why do you think I came back?"
"I don't know, I thought maybe you just really liked my pancakes." You laughed, and it came out wet because apparently you were crying now, and he kissed you again, still grinning against your mouth. "God, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he mumbled between kisses. "Luck or no luck, I don't care. You're it for me, you know that?"
"Stop, don't say that..."
"I'm serious, baby. You're it."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, you're it for me too." He made this sound like a laugh but still a sigh and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his hips, his hands settling on your waist. You could feel him already starting to get hard again beneath you, which was honestly impressive considering you'd literally just finished. "Again?" you said, raising an eyebrow.
"What? You're naked and sitting on me and you just said you're in love with me. What did you expect?"
"Yeah, okay, fair." You giggled.
"Mhm. So what do you say, my love? Round two?"
"You're insatiable."
"Only for you, baby."
And, well, turns out the universe has a sense of humor after all.
The band blew up, like actually blew up. ENHYPEN's live album hit streaming platforms and within a month they were getting requests for festival appearances and opening slots for bigger acts. Jeonghan called it the fastest trajectory I've ever seen for a new signing which Jungwon pretended to be cool about but you caught him grinning at his phone for like twenty minutes after that call. They did a small tour but sold out every show. Sunghoon broke another drumstick on stage and the fan video went viral. Jake started getting recognized at coffee shops. Heeseung got approached about a solo EP. Jay bought a car, which he immediately regretted because parking in the city is a nightmare but he was too proud to admit it.
And Jungwon? Jungwon was in his element. Managing them and keeping them on schedule, negotiating with venues and doing all the behind the scenes stuff that nobody sees but makes everything actually work. He was really good at it and watching him do his thing, watching him be confident and competent and completely in control, was honestly kind of hot. As for you, Jeonghan kept his word. He got you an interview with HYBE's events division and you walked in with a portfolio of every event you'd ever planned, including the disastrous masquerade ball, because fuck it, you organized that thing and it looked incredible even if it ended badly. They hired you on the spot with a decent salary and actual benefits. You were so back.
The apartment became both of yours pretty quickly. You'd officially moved in as a girlfriend about a month after and it was kind of seamless in a way that would've freaked you out before but now just felt right. Your plant claimed the windowsill in the living room and your books took over half the shelf. Your toothbrush lived next to his in the bathroom. He cleared out two drawers for you without asking and you bought matching Pokémon mugs as a joke except now you both used them every morning.
Sunoo came over at least twice a week usually to raid your fridge and complain about his dating life. He and the band got along great, which you should've predicted because Sunoo gets along with everyone. Sometimes you'd come home to find him and Sunghoon arguing about anything on the couch while Jungwon made dinner. It felt like family, the kind of family you choose.
But here's the weird part and you noticed it first, though Jungwon figured it out around the same time â the luck thing evened out completely. You weren't absurdly lucky anymore and he wasn't cosmically cursed. You were both just... average. The kind of normal where sometimes you'd find a twenty in your coat pocket and sometimes your card would decline at the grocery store for no reason. Sometimes Jungwon would hit every green light on the way to the studio and sometimes the subway would break down and make him late. One time you were running to catch the train and you tripped on the platform and Jungwon caught your arm at the exact same second. You both stopped and looked at each other and started laughing because what were the odds? Bad luck canceled out by good luck, or maybe good luck canceled out by bad luck, or maybe it was just two people in the same place at the same time and that was enough.
You were both at the amusement park on the edge of the city one saturday, those amusement parks with rides that were just rickety enough to be fun and overpriced carnival games that nobody ever wins. Jungwon showed up at noon with tickets already purchased and this grin on his face like he was about to surprise you with something amazing. And, well, it was a good day. You went on the ferris wheel first because he insisted, and at the top he kissed you with the whole city spread out below and it was corny as hell but you didn't care. You played one of those rigged basketball games and he missed every single shot and the guy running the booth felt so bad he gave you a stuffed bear anyway. You got soft pretzels that were too salty and lemonade that was too sweet and wandered around just talking about nothing, his hand in yours the whole time.
Later, when the sun was starting to set and the park lights were coming on, you were walking past the games and food stalls when you saw Madame Clarisse. She was set up at a small table near the back of the park with the same jeweled mask, same rings on every finger, same sign that said Palm Reading - $10. There was no line, though. She was just sitting there shuffling a deck of tarot cards and when you walked past she looked up and your eyes met. She smiled like she'd known all along how this would turn out.
You stopped walking and Jungwon noticed after a second and turned back. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you said, still looking at her. "I just â do you remember the fortune teller? From the ball?"
"The one who said your luck was running out?"
"Yeah. That's her."
He followed your gaze and when he saw her his eyebrows went up. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Madame Clarisse gave a little wave. You couldn't help it so you waved back. "Should weâ" Jungwon started.
"No," you said already pulling him away. "I think we're good."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I don't need her to tell me anything. I already know."
"Know what?"
You looked at him, at his ridiculous windswept hair and his easy smile and the way he was looking at you like you were the best part of his entire day. "That I got lucky," you said.
He laughed. "That's terrible."
"I know."
"I love you, you know?"
"Yeah, I know that too."
He kissed you then, right there in the middle of the amusement park. "Come on," he said. "I want to win you something at one of these rigged games."
"You're going to lose all your money."
"Not if I get lucky."
You walked away hand in hand, and behind you Madame Clarisse went back to her cards still smiling. You thought about all of it: the ball, that first kiss, the broken umbrella, the month you spent convinced the universe hated you, the moment you almost got on a train and left everything behind. You thought about luck and cosmic balance and fortune tellers who saw things coming before you did. But mostly you just thought about the way Jungwon's hand felt in yours, the way he looked at you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him. The way you'd kissed a stranger in a mask and somehow ended up here, with him, exactly where you were supposed to be.
Maybe the universe had a sense of humor after all. Or maybe some things were always meant to happen, luck or no luck. Either way, you weren't complaining. Just my luck, you thought. Just my luck.
taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @saeris-world @jayparked @solonenova @izzyy-stuff @gh9sty @xoenhalover @bambiens @hoonsocks @jaeyunflixÂ
© all rights reserved @/heejamas â do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works without explicit permission. these are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real-life actions, thoughts, or personalities of any public figures
. . . e q u i l i b r i u m | 21
maybe this time love means letting go /// miguel, always time
pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader
summary: it takes a long time to fully explore the thin line between love and hate. but seven minutes is a good start.
genre: academic rival!yeonjun / college au / enemies to lovers au / fake dating au
warnings: angst
words: 11.5k
masterlist / read from the beginning
⊠⹠âââ MARCH 10, 2025. 10 AM (DAY 13)
The sky hung low and colourless that Monday morning, like a lid clamped down over the city. A thin drizzle stitched against your bedroom window, leaving silver seams that caught the weak light of your desk lamp.
After a largely sleepless night on Yeonjunâs sofa and a questionable drive home, youâd promised yourself an hourâs nap. Your elective today had been cancelled after the professor got sick, so you figured you could spare sixty minutes with your eyes shut before your only remaining seminar of the day. Your bed waited, sheets rumpled and pleasantly warm.
Reina did not agree with this plan.
Every time she crossed the corridor while getting ready, she deliberately paused in your doorway.
When your face surfaced from the folds of your duvet, she bared her teeth. âWell?â
You burrowed deeper into the covers.
She breezed into your room.
âI know youâre awake,â she sang. âTell me what Iâve missed.â
Groaning, you dragged yourself upright. Reina took that as consent and clambered onto the mattress, her knees digging into your thigh.
Ever since sheâd returned from her hometown the previous night and discovered your empty bed, sheâd been incandescent with curiosity. And when Soobin came back shortly after, announcingâwith a faint flush in his cheeksâthat you and Yeonjun were at his house, her curiosity turned into proper sport. Now she was in the first row and demanded fireworks by intermission.
You refused to give her a show.
Pointedly ignoring her excitement, you recapped the weekend in clipped bullet points: a meal with Yeonjunâs parents, then the funeral for his Nissan. Not much else.
Reina declared that you were recounting it like items on a receipt and shook her head, unimpressed.
Instead of interrogating you further, however, she filled in every gap herself, tweaking her theories based on how heavily you sighed. Much to her growing satisfaction, you sighed very heavily.
When you escaped to the bathroom, she was hot on your heels.
âThink itâs clear,â she declared while you reached for your toothbrush, âyou are obsessed with each other.â
âItâs just one weekend,â you replied, toothpaste frothing at your lips.
âTechnically, itâs your second one,â she said, hopping up onto the counter. Her slippers knocked softly against the door. âAnd I bet next weekend, youâll already have a shared list of groceries. Milk, eggs, toilet papââ
âRei.â
She grinned. âYouâre glowing, have I mentioned?â
You switched the toothbrush to the other side. âSâthe lighting.â
She leaned forward and covered the bulb above the mirror with her hand, throwing half your face into shadow.
âMm.â Her eyes sparkled. âStill glowing.â
You laughed despite yourself, bent to spit, then straightened. Reina bumped her shoulder into yours. You retaliated by nudging her hip, enough to make her wobble on the counter.
She yelped, laughing as she caught your sleeve to steady herself.
âFor the record,â she said, bracing a hand behind her so you wouldnât both topple into the shower cabin, âI support this development between you. Just one thing, if I may?â
You sighed. âYou may.â
âI believe I did very much tell you so.â
You clicked your tongue, and, for a few bright minutes, the flat floated with her laughter.
Soon, infected with her energy, you started to feel giddy, tooâchildishly so. Like a little kid trying not to laugh in the middle of a very serious lesson. You didnât mind when you caught your reflection and noticed the smudged mascara on the corners of your eyes.
Then Reina reached for her phone to check the time and gasped.
You looked up from the sink. âWhat?â
She turned her screen towards you. There were five messages from Soobin stacked on top of each other, warning her of his upcoming demise from the cold outside.
âHeâs been waiting for ten minutes,â she said, jumping off the counter. âSays heâs writing his will.â
You snorted. âHe couldnât come up?â
âWe sort of agreed to meet downstairs,â she admitted, crossing the bathroom. âBut then I got distracted by you and your boyfriend, soâŠâ
She trailed off, casting one last meaningful look at you.
You shook your head, lips twitching. âGo. Donât make him suffer.â
She gave you a hurried hug, then headed down the corridor to grab her bag and find her shoes. A minute later, the front door slammed shut.
Silence unfurled around you, interrupted only by the gentle rush of water as you washed your hands under the tap.
You glanced at your own phone.
YEONJUN [11:29 AM] can we meet before class? i need to talk to you
The smile on your lips waned.
Youâd noted the message when it came, but Reina had been mid-cross-examination, so you didnât dare to pick your phone up.
Now you hovered over the keyboard, tempted to say something flippant (are we bringing knives to this talk, or why are you so ominous). You swallowed it back.
YOU [12:07 PM] sure, omw now
This weekend had shifted something fundamental between you and Yeonjun. And with the bet ending tomorrow, it was relatively obvious what heâd want to talk about.
The inevitable now what.
The awkward so what are we.
That would have made sense.
But, alone under the bathroom lights, you saw the unease in your reflection: shoulders pulled in, a subtle tremour along your jaw. There was a taste of mint and something metallic in your mouth.
You were thinking about the drive home this morning.
Yeonjun had insisted on coming with you. Heâd buckled himself into the passenger seat of Reinaâs Honda, commented that it smelled very strongly of citrus, and hadnât said anything else.
You didnât have to come all this way, you had teased, pulling out into early morning traffic. I had the car.
He had looked at the windscreen and shrugged.
Howâs your wrist? youâd asked.
Fine.
You sure?
Yeah.
Youâd waited, hoping heâd hear his short, terse responses and offer just a sliver more. He hadnât.
You alright? youâd tried again.
Heâd glanced down at his brace and tightened it until his hand paled. Just tired, I guess.
Something brittle had threaded his voice. You felt it and pulled back, pride sealing your mouth before you could embarrass yourself by asking again.
Later, after parking down the street, youâd stood with him for ten minutes outside your building while he waited for his taxi. Heâd had his hands in his pockets. In all that time, he hadnât looked at you once.
Now the memory clung to you, unpleasant and persistent, as you locked the flat and stepped into the stairwell.
Maybe, you thought, it meant nothing. He mightâve really been tired.
Outside, the drizzle thickened into a steady downpour. It dampened your coat and seeped through the seams. Your umbrella snapped open with a resentful crack, warning you it was nearing retirement. The street was empty of colour, even the car headlights were blurred into pale smudges.
The closer you drew to campus, the thicker the scent of coffee became. The Sociology building loomed on the edge, its red bricks darkened by rain so much that they looked charred.
Yeonjun was standing at the edge of the parking lot.
You saw him before he saw you.
He stood too straight, spine locked, shoulders squared as though he expected something to hit him and had decided, stubbornly, not to budge when it did. Rain gathered along the seams of his black leather jacket, turning it glossy. He held three bouquets of freesias, their pale purple blossoms absurdly bright.
âHi,â you said, stepping off the kerb.
He turned.
Up close, he looked worse than he had this morning.
Shadows pooled under his eyes. The bruises from the crash stood out, livid against his pale skin, deepening his cheekbones to a painful violet. Rain had plastered his hair into damp strands across his forehead.
âHi,â he replied.
âYou okay?â You angled the umbrella to cover him. âSleep at all?â
He drew in a shuddering breath. âUh, a bit.â
âBut not much?â
âNo.â He cleared his throat. âNot really.â
You readjusted the strap of your backpack, and your grip on the umbrella faltered. It tipped, and the corner tapped him on the head. He didnât flinch.
âSorry,â you muttered, righting it.
âSâfine.â
His eyes hovered somewhere near your collarbone. You werenât wearing a scarf.
He dropped his stare to the wet pavement and inhaled.
Heâd spent most of the morning getting you flowers and staring at them on his kitchen island with a bottle of wine from the fridge. It didnât count as day drinking, heâd decided, if heâd never gone to bed. His mouth still tasted sour, his limbs oddly distant. More than anything, he wanted to cease for a minute. Just not be.
âThis, umââ His voice faltered. He held out the freesias. âFor you.â
Sighing, you wedged the umbrella between your cheek and shoulder and accepted the bouquets. The stems were cool, damp, and slightly sticky against your palm.
âWhy three?â you asked.
Technically, he owed you two: one for yesterday, one for today.
âItâs in advance.â His hand lifted to the back of his head, fingers pressing into his hair. âAnd itâs an apology.â
You were breathing in the soft fragrance when the word registered.
âHm?â You looked up. âFor what?â
His throat moved as he swallowed.
âItâs over,â he said. The rain hushed his words, but didnât soften them. âThe bet. Youâve won.â
You stared at him.
âIâll leave the workshop,â he went on, his tone eerily even as though he was reciting a paragraph from a book. âWe wonât talk again. Itâthatâs it. Youâve won.â
The parking lot seemed to shrink. White lines pressed at the edges of your vision.
Your fingers tightened around the bouquets. One freesia bent under the strain, and the stem snapped.
âWhat,â you said slowly, âdo you mean?â
Yeonjun ran his tongue over his lips. They were as dry as the inside of his mouth.
âI said Iâd prove you wrong about me,â he said. âAnd Iâve failed.â
Heat rushed up your neck.
You briefly questioned whether youâd imagined everything that had happened yesterday: from the A&E to his bathroom, his bedroom, his sofa.
âMhmm.â The freesias rustled as you gathered them into one hand, gripping the umbrella with the other. Your ears burned. âSo you think I donât want you, then?â
A car rolled into the parking lot behind you, tyres hissing on wet asphalt. Instinctively, Yeonjun reached for you, hands lifted to guide you out of its path.
He stopped himself.
You saw the aborted movement. Saw the way his fingers curled inward instead.
The restraint hit like a punch to the gut.
âWanting,â he said at last, drawing in a breath that scraped his lungs raw, âis not what love is.â
Recognition narrowed your gaze and tightened your throat.
Youâd said this to him once, outside your flat, during your long, circular discussion about the purpose of the bet. About what love meant.
Youâd waited for him to end the bet then.
But not like this.
Another car cut through the lot, spraying a fan of dirty water that stopped just short of your trainers.
Yeonjun flinched. âCould you move away from theââ
âI donât get it,â you cut in, your pulse throbbing in your gums with every word. âWhat do you want me to say, then? Want me to tell you Iâm in love with you?â
His chest seized. âI dââ
âI thoughtâyou made it seem like this wasnât a bet anymore.â
A frigid breeze swept across the parking lot, needling through your coat and whipping rain against your calves. The umbrella shuddered, dripping water from the rim. The paper around the flowers had gone limp and translucent.
Yeonjun was wondering if this was the last rain heâd ever get into with you.
âI know,â he said. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides.
âSo it was just that, then?â you asked. Your voice had gone strangely calm. âA point to prove?â
He shook his head once, quick. âIâlook, Iâm sorry.â
âFor what?â
âFor everything.â His gaze tracked the ripples spreading through a puddle at his boots. âMostly for this.â
âWhat is this, Jun?â Your voice cracked on his name; it almost sounded pleading. You hated that it did.
âItââ He inhaled and forced himself to look up, but only managed half a glance at you before flinching away. âItâs over.â
The words propelled him.
Before he could reconsider, before you could say something that would pin him in place, he ducked out from under your umbrella and stepped past you.
The rain lashed down on him immediately, darkening his jacket, soaking his hair. For a heartbeat, you braced yourself, expecting him to brush against your arm. To hesitate. To stop.
He didnât.
His boots skidded on the slick asphalt as he headed for his Mercedes. His movements were hurried, graceless, almost desperate. He was fleeing.
âYouâre actually serious?â you called after him.
The rain drowned the question. He didnât turn.
His fingers fumbled with the door handle. The brace on his wrist forced his hand into an awkward angle, grip compromised, knuckles pale with effort. He wasnât supposed to be driving yet.
He slipped inside anyway.
You stepped forward without fully deciding to. Puddles swallowed the hems of your jeans, icy water seeping through your socks. The umbrella sagged against your shoulder. Rain found the gap at your collar and slid down your spine.
âSo thatâs it?â you demanded as his engine roared to life, too loud in the quiet parking lot. âWeâre just not going to talk anymore?â
He didnât answer.
For a wild second, you considered chucking the freesias under his tyres. Letting the petals burst purple beneath the wheels. Forcing him to get out and talk to you.
Inside the car, Yeonjun sat rigid, fingers locked around the steering wheel. The engine vibrated through him, a mechanical pulse that matched the frantic rhythm in his chest.
He couldâve driven off; you werenât blocking him. There was space.
He didnât move.
Through the rain-streaked windscreen, he felt the weight of your gaze, felt it land like a hand between his shoulder blades. Like your touch after heâd wrapped his Nissan around the oak.
Fuck.
You didnât move, either.
Yeonjun knew you wouldnât beg. Wouldnât chase him down the street, wouldnât call him a coward, wouldnât demand explanations. Partly out of pride, yes, but more than that, self-respect. You shouldnât have had to ask for what he shouldâve given freely.
He didnât deserve you asking anyway.
And he had nothing to give.
Finally, almost involuntarily, he shifted into reverse. The car jolted slightly, then smoothed out. The indicator blinked, absurdly cheerful.
You watched the car retreat, tyres slicing through puddles. It turned the corner and disappeared.
Your coat clung heavily to your shoulders, water dripping from your sleeves. The freesias shook in your hands.
You inhaled. The air hurt.
Then you turned and went to class.
⊠⹠âââ MARCH 10, 2025. 1 PM
Professor Myersâ auditorium was very warm. One window at the back had been cracked open, allowing in a reluctant draught that did nothing but rearrange the dust. The room smelled faintly of rain and old carpet.
Ten of your classmates sat around the seminar table, discussing news cycles. Someone clicked their pen with an arrhythmic insistence.
Click.
Pause.
Click-click.
Pause.
Click.
Your nerves latched onto the sound immediately. Your pulse matched with it, thudding in your temples, your wrists, the soft hollow at the base of your throat.
You hadnât done the reading last night.
Youâd been busy.
The thought promptly reignited your irritation with Yeonjun. You pressed your lips together and tried to focus on the PDF on your laptop screen in front of you.
The institution-based media of mass communication is no longerâ
You scrolled.
The virality of the content in the observed periodâ
You scrolled.
Nothing assembled into coherence.
The pen clicked again. You had to resist the urge to lean across the table and snap it in two.
The discussion around you fell into a hush. Professor Myersâ gaze drifted over the table. She paused on you.
Your stomach dropped.
Youâd always been prepared. Always had a sentence ready, something brief but sufficient. Now your mind was empty.
The professor watched you for a second. Then she moved on.
Relief came, but it wasnât satisfying. Your pulse did not slow.
You shifted in your seat. The freesias rustled on the floor beside your chair, their wrapping wrinkled and damp. A few petals had already fallen onto the scuffed linoleum. Reina, seated to your left, glanced down at them. The small smile she wore felt like a relic from a different life.
When the seminar finally ended, the pen-clicker left first, abandoning the offending object on the table. You shot it a withering look as you pushed back your chair and slipped your laptop into your backpack.
Professor Myers called your name.
You looked up, startled.
She stood at the front, papers gathered in her hands. âA moment, please?â
Your stomach lurched with an unsettling sense of déjà vu.
You nodded.
At the doorway, Reina lingered just long enough to catch your eye. She mouthed Iâll see you later?, her brows raised in silent question. You managed a small nod. Nodding back, she disappeared into the corridor.
The auditorium felt larger now that it was empty, but no less stifling. Someone had dropped a tissue; it lay crumpled at the leg of the table.
You slung your backpack over your shoulder and collected the freesias. The stems had softened, bending slightly under their own weight.
You checked your phone on the way to the professorâs desk.
No new messages or missed calls.
Alright, then.
âSo,â Professor Myers said, and paused for a long moment.
She sat behind her mahogany desk, arranging and rearranging a stack of papers that did not appear to require it. Her email was open on her desktop.
âThereâll be some changes to the workshop,â she said at last. âYeonjun stopped by before the seminar.â
She made no comment about his absence at said seminar. You swallowed every tart reply that rose to your tongue.
âYes,â you said. âHe mentioned something.â
The professor hummed. âDo you think youâll be alright continuing on your own?â
For a moment, you were acutely aware of your posture, the damp denim at your ankles, the awkward grip you had on the flowers.
You didnât know if you would be alright continuing on your own.
âYes,â you said anyway. Your voice sounded distant, as though you were borrowing it from someone else. âOf course. Iâve just been following the study plan.â
âRight, right.â She lifted the same stack of papers, tapped them into alignment, and set them back down. âTo be honest, I donât quite understand his reasoning. He made a very compelling case to co-host. It seemed important to him.â She pushed her glasses up her nose. âI canât see why heâd suddenly withdraw. Heâhe did look tired, I suppose.â
She was subtly asking you if something had happened to him, you surmised. Perhaps some dramatic, sudden disease that had eaten away at his brain.
You were wondering the same thing.
âYeah,â you said. âI donât understand it either, Professor.â
She exhaled. âWell. I told him to formalise the withdrawal with the Administration himself. Hand back his staff badge, all that fun stuff. I assume heâll sort that today, so he likely wonât join you tomorrow.â
âRight.â
Distracted, you glanced over to the clock above the door.
It was 2:45 PM.
The administrative hours began at three.
You could still catch him, if you wanted to.
You didnât know if you wanted to.
âI was a bit curt with him,â the professor admitted, rubbing the bridge of her nose. âI couldâve handled the paperwork for him. But I admit, I felt rather blindsided.â
Blindsided was a good word.
It nearly made you laugh.
âItâs a busy time,â you said, nodding towards her stack of papers. Someoneâs midterms, you guessed from the student ID numbers at the top. âIâm sure heâll manage himself.â
The professor studied you for a moment, more closely. Inevitably, her gaze slid to the bedraggled flowers in your hands.
At last, she leaned back in her chair, fatigue setting into her shoulders. Whatever rumours sheâd overheard, whatever conclusions she mightâve privately drawn, she set them aside. With spring break starting next week, she had better uses for her energy.
âWould you mind stopping by tomorrow after the workshop?â she asked. âAny time before five. Iâd like to hear how it went, in case we need to make adjustments.â
You assumed she meant finding you a new co-host.
Youâd had quite enough of those.
âOf course,â you said. âAlthough Iâm sure itâll be fine. Itâs a good class. Very motivated.â
That was a lie, of course.
The students werenât motivated so much as deeply aware of their credit requirements. But Professor Myers looked too weary to interrogate your claim.
âThatâs good,â she said. âIâve no doubt youâll manage it.â
You produced a smile that finally allowed her to dismiss you.
Fixing your backpack, you turned a little too quickly and caught the corner of her desk with the bouquets. More petals fell, bright against the dark wood. You didnât stoop to gather them.
The corridor outside was noticeably cooler. You stopped by the window at the far end and leaned your hip against the windowsill.
You needed a moment.
The glass of the window was faintly fogged. Outside, students crossed the quad, their umbrellas tilting every which way with the wind. You slipped your hand into your coat pocket and found your phone.
Then, movement by the staircase caught your eye.
Reina and Soobin were approaching with identical expressions of cautious concern. They stopped on either side of you, unintentionally blocking every exit.
âEverything okay?â Reina asked, chin tilting toward the auditorium behind you.
You released your phone and pulled your hand out of your pocket.
âYeah,â you said. âJust workshop stuff.â
Soobin hovered to your right, framed by the weak afternoon light.
He kept glancing at Reina as though waiting for her permission to speak. She looked at him and nodded.
âUm,â he started, rubbing the back of his neck. âYeonjun just texted me. Said heâs not going to be home the rest of the week. Have you two got plans? Because I donât mind you staying at the house, I can justâyou know.â
You lifted your head slowly.
Yeonjun wasnât just leaving the workshop, then. He was leaving.
You couldnât understand.
If this was about prideâwhat more did he want from you, your heart clearly wasnât yours anymoreâthen yours had taken the bigger hit. You were the one standing in the parking lot, trying to process the end of something that had never even officially started. With three fucking bouquets of freesias.
âWe havenât got plans,â you told Soobin, âI donât know anything about that.â
Reinaâs eyes narrowed slightly. âSâhe coming with you to the library?â
âNo.â
Soobin edged half a step back, closer to Reina. They exchanged a look over your shoulder, brief but loaded.
âDid something happen?â he ventured. His eyes dipped to the freesias.
You exhaled and set the bouquets on the windowsill. One stem rolled lazily before settling against the damp paper. Then you hoisted yourself up beside them, palms braced against the sill. The glass pressed cool against your spine.
Yeonjun was probably at Administration by now.
âNothing happened,â you said. âI won the bet.â
Soobinâs face lost colour in increments. Even his black turtleneck looked a shade lighter.
Reina blinked once. Twice. Then closed her eyes and frowned.
Their surprise steadied you. If they were this bewildered, then you werenât losing your mind.
âWhat does that mean?â Reina asked.
You shrugged. âHe said Iâve won. So heâs left the workshop. And weâre not speaking anymore.â
âWait,â Soobin said. His tongue felt too big for his mouth all of a sudden. âSo he justâand youâh-howâwhââ
Reina placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing briefly in a quiet command to stop, please.
She turned back to you. âStart at the part that makes sense, babe.â
You stared at the plant slumped in the corner of the windowsill. Its leaves were yellowing at the edges.
âDonât know where that is,â you said. âHe texted me this morning, said he needed to talk. So we talked. He said the bet was over.â
You lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Reina released a breath that sounded like itâd been trapped inside her lungs for days.
âItâs really not much of a plot twist when you look at it like that,â you added, dry. âWe agreed on two weeks. Two weeks are over. Apparently, I won.â
Your gaze drifted back to the freesias beside you. Their purple blossoms had already started to bleach, as though reconsidering their earlier optimism.
For one reckless second, you imagined scooping them up and hurling them out of the window. Watching them arc against the low clouds and scatter across the quad like fucked up confetti.
The corridor was quiet.
Reina watched you without blinking, her hands clenched at her sides. She had a meeting with her thesis advisor in an hour. Now she was calculating whether she could squeeze in assault and battery beforehand. Perhaps just battery.
âHas he hit his head very hard at some point yesterday?â she asked, her tone honed to a fine point. âThis is clearly not a fucking bet.â
The ferocity in her expression was familiar. Reinaâs protectiveness had always bordered on criminal.
Once, years ago, during a night out in a basement club, some random bloke had asked for your number at the bar. Youâd given it; he was very cute. Ten minutes later, Reina spotted him in a corner, devouring another girl with alarming enthusiasm.
She hadnât stopped to think for one second.
Sheâd marched across the club, seized him by the collarâhow she managed it, given he was twice her size, remained one of lifeâs enduring mysteriesâand dragged him into the menâs room. Afterwards, sheâd wedged a decorative plant against the door and left him there to reflect on his life.
Heâd emerged twenty minutes later, looking very sober, and promptly left the club.
You were briefly tempted to unleash Reina on Yeonjun.
You resisted.
âReiââ
âHang on,â Soobin interjected, pressing a hand to his forehead as if his thoughts were threatening to spill out. âSheâs right. HeâI talked to Jun about this a few days ago. At Gyu and Kaiâs.â
The memory of that party rolled through you like nausea. Youâd lived three different lives in the space of this past week.
âThatâs smashing,â you said, staring at a crack in the windowsill. âI talked to him today.â
âOkay, thatââ Soobin frowned. âBut itâs not just a bet. I asked him. Iââ
âWell, then he lied to you too, Bin,â you said, unable to keep the edge from your voice. âI donât know what you want from me.â
A group of students passed behind Reina, their chatter loud and careless. It washed through the corridor.
The quiet after they disappeared into the stairwell felt hostile. The light behind the window dulled another shade.
Reina shook her head slowly. âI donât think he lied.â
âYeah,â Soobin said. âI donât believe that, either.â
Their certainty pressed against your ribs, gentle and a lot like hope. You tried not to let it in.
âSomething must have happened,â Soobin insisted, his gaze drifting past you to the rainy quad.
Reina stood next to him, deep in thought. She was rifling through every story youâd told her about Yeonjun, turning each detail over, pulling out screws, checking for loose wiring.
Either Yeonjun was in mortal danger, she reasoned, or she was going to put him in one.
âCould be his parents,â she said.
Soobin opened his mouth beside her, then turned to you, wide-eyed. âHis parents.â
Your heart kicked and then slowed, wary.
âThey were docile when we saw them, though,â you said, inclining your head. âNothing happened.â
Reina shrugged. âSo, they did something after you left.â
âWhat could they have done?â you returned. âWe were together nearly the whole time.â
There were reasonable doubts in your voice.
Soobin shared none of them.
He knew Yeonjunâs parents well. They had deemed his family a good match and always welcomed him to their immaculate dinners. Heâd seen Yeonjunâs mother smile at guests, and heâd seen that smile vanish the moment everyoneâs attention shifted. He knew her. And he knew her control could travel through phone calls, through texts. Even through silence.
âThey said something to him,â Soobin said, raking a hand through his hair hard enough to spark static. A few strands lifted at the crown. âThey had to. Fuck.â
He began pacing in tight circles, visibly agitated. His boots squeaked faintly against the tiles.
âI warned him about playing games,â he muttered. âI fucking told himââ He cut himself off and pivoted back to you. His eyes found yours, but there was nothing in them that recognised you. âBut I donâtâI still donât understand.â
Uncomfortable under his vacant stare, you glanced at Reina.
She gave a shake of her head: let him dig.
âEven if his parents had said something to him,â Soobin dug, âhe took this bet seriously. Swear he did. He wouldnât have justâI mean, I talked to him. He was all âIâll think about itâ and âfuck the scheme.â He obviously knew what would happen ifââ
âWait.â You lifted a hand, palm out. âWhat?â
He finally blinked. âHm?â
âWhat scheme?â
The silence in the corridor deepened.
Soobinâs shoulders drew up, his chest locking rib by rib.
âItâno,â he said, swallowing. âNo, that was a joke.â
You stared at him. âAbout me?â
Reina got a very bad feeling and shifted a step back, putting a touch of space between them. Soobin watched her with naked horror.
âNo,â he said quickly. His voice frayed. âIt wasnât aboutânotânot about you. Not exactly. Itââ
âBin,â Reina said, calm in a way that was almost threatening. âWhatâs this about?â
âNothing, my love,â he replied automatically, forcing a smile that looked painful to maintain. Blinking too fast, he turned back to you. âItâsâhave you tried talking to him again? Maybe heâs havingâmaybe heâs gone insane.â
âMaybe you have,â you said, pushing off the windowsill. Your trainers hit the tiles with a blunt thud. âWhatâs going on?â
Soobin tried to exhale, but lost sense of his breath halfway through. With his wide eyes and flushed cheeks, he looked abruptly younger. Like a kid whoâd accidentally dropped something expensive and now waited for an adult to scold him.
âYou should really speak to him,â he said. âThere must be something you can do aboutââ
âI donât want to do anything.â Your anger bit at your chest before it reached him. âWhat scheme?â
âItâs nothing.â He squeezed his eyes shut as if that might reverse time. âI shouldnât have said anything. It was stuââ
âWhat scheme?â
His jaw clenched so tightly that you heard his teeth click.
âPlease,â he said, glancing at you. âJustâjust talk to him.â
You looked at Reina.
Her expression mirrored yours: the same disbelief, the same slowly rising fury.
Without another word, you gathered the freesias, scattering another handful of petals, and strode away. Your footsteps ricocheted against the stairwell walls.
For a moment, neither Reina nor Soobin moved.
Reina stared at the fallen petals, her chest tight.
âWhat the hell, Bin?â she said softly.
Soobin swallowed. The corridor felt smaller now, suffocating.
âIâm sorry,â he said. Then, quieter, âfuck.â
⊠⹠âââ MARCH 10, 2025. 3:30 PM
You crossed the quad in time to see Yeonjun step out of the Administration building, the heavy oak door swinging shut behind him. He headed for the parking lot without a backward glance, head down, eyes glued to the darkened pavement.
The rain had stopped, but the air still carried the scent of wet grass and damp stone.
By the time you reached him, he was already unlocking his car.
âYeonjun.â
He froze.
He hadnât expected to see you again today. Heâd checked your timetable after heâd talked to Professor Myers. Heâd calculated everything so he could leave campus before your library shift began at four.
âIâm sorry,â he said quickly, pulling the car door open wider. âIâve got toââ
âWhat does âfuck the schemeâ mean?â
His hand tightened on the door handle.
You stood directly in front of him, close enough to see the pulse jumping at his neck as he looked up at you.
For several long seconds, he only stared. It was a change from his earlier avoidance, and you didnât know what to make of it. You held his gaze anyway.
A car alarm chirped somewhere in the distance.
Yeonjun tried to find his words and ended up finding too many: âWhereâwhatâwhââ
âSoobin mentioned it,â you said. âWhat scheme?â
The corner of his left eye twitched. He loved Soobin. At that moment, he loved him enough to consider throttling him.
He briefly shut his eyes, then opened them again.
Heâd done this himself.
It was his fault.
âItâs notââ He exhaled sharply. âItâs nothing serious. Just an old joke.â
Your expression did not soften. âLetâs have a laugh, then.â
He swallowed, eyes darting over your shoulder to the gradually filling parking lot. A pair of students passed behind you, laughing about something. Their joy felt inappropriate. Obscene.
âI should really goââ
âYou wonât be going anywhere,â you said, inching closer, âif you donât explain that shit to me right now.â
His pulse jumped in a familiar reflex. He inhaled and forced his chest to settle.
He knew he shouldnât be speaking to you here, under the Administration windows, where the glass reflected everything, including his motherâs office two buildings over.
Yet he found, with nauseating clarity, that he feared walking away from you now far more than the consequences that awaited him if he didnât.
âOkay,â he said finally, his voice subdued. âCan we just go over there? Itâs quieter.â
He motioned to the empty bench against the far wall, half-hidden behind a bare sycamore. Its branches swayed anxiously in the breeze.
You turned towards it without replying.
He followed.
Two weeks ago, youâd have made a joke about the bench being conveniently secluded; fewer witnesses if youâd killed him. He wouldâve snorted and teased you about wanting to get him alone. You wouldâve rolled your eyes.
Now you walked beside him in silence with a deliberate gap between you. And Yeonjun had a sinking suspicion that it would not be your rage that ultimately undid him. It would be this gap.
The bench was cold.
The moisture from the wood seeped into your jeans. You placed the freesias beside you, pretending not to feel the chill. Yeonjun lowered himself next to you with visible hesitation, leaving a careful inch of space. He rested his braced wrist on his thigh. His leather jacket creaked in the quiet.
Above, the sycamore stirred. Its few remaining leaves scraped together in dry, conspiratorial murmurs.
He needed a moment before he could speak. He had to make sure that when he opened his mouth, what emerged would be more than just a defeated heugh.
âOkay,â he said at last. âSo, uhâa long time ago, I told Soobin that Amy and I had split up. âCourse that didnât mean much since we were never actuallyâwell, you know the story.â
âRight.â
The single syllable fell flat between you.
Yeonjun fixed his eyes on the gravel under his feet. He nudged a loose stone with the toe of his boot.
âWell, after that break-up, my parents started parading candidates again,â he continued. âOrganising dinners where everyone pretended we werenât one meal away from an arranged marriage.â His mouth twisted into a grimace. âI kept refusing to go. My parents kept not caring.â
You stole a glance at him. The wind pushed a strand of hair into his eyes; he didnât notice.
âSo I was venting to Soobin about all that,â he went on. âAnd I saidâitâthis was long ago by the way. Years. I donât even remember when exactlyââ
âGet on with it, Yeonjun.â
His shoulders stiffened.
He couldnât remember the last time youâd called him by his full name.
At once, he felt the past two weeks begin to lose their meaning. Felt them fading as though theyâd never been more than a suggestion.
He knew he shouldnât have cared. There was nothing he could do now. But, shit, his spine could barely find the strength to hold him upright.
âI-I told Soobin,â he forced out, scratching the corner of his eye, âthat I was so tired of this rubbish that I was considering going out with someone my parents would hate. Someone theyâd never choose for me. Different background, different everything. Justâsomeone to spite them. To piss them off.â He swallowed. âTo prove they didnât own me.â
The wind rose. The branches rustled, and a twig snapped somewhere directly overhead.
You couldnât remember when youâd last inhaled.
âI was joking,â he said, staring at the ground. âIt wasnât serious. I said, uhâsaid I didnât even know anyone whoâd fit that scheme.â
The word lingered for a moment.
You heard it repeating, mixing with the echo of your pulse in your ears.
âAnd then,â he said, voice dropping, âSoobin joked that, umâthat you would.â
He looked at you then. Saw the shutters slamming down behind your eyes as you turned away and clenched your jaw.
âHe wasnât being serious,â he added hastily. âHe used to bring you up just to get a reaction. It wasâit was a bit of a running joke.â
Slowly, you returned your gaze to him.
âYou had a running joke,â you repeated, each word level, âabout how I am exactly the sort of person that would embarrass your parents.â
âThatâno.â His breaths grew uneven. âIt wasnât aboutâshit. It wasnât like that. Bin mentioned you because he was trying to get under my skin. Weâwe laughed. Sâall it was. Justâa stupid joke.â
You gave a curt nod. âYeah, no, sâfunny. Because I do, actually, fit the scheme.â
He blinked, instinctively prepared to contradict you, then stopped himself. Denying it, he knew, would only insult you further.
âTechnically,â he said weakly, âI guess you do. But thatâs notâthis was before you and I started toââ
You stood from the bench. The wood gave a harsh creak.
Yeonjun flinched at the sound. Something in his chest choked him, like a knot heâd meant to loosen but ended up tightening instead.
âNo, see,â you said, slowly shaking your head. âI knew it.â
The memories in your head realigned. You recalled sitting with Yeonjun at your flat, when heâd first told you that he and Amy had never actually dated. You recalled how carefully heâd chosen his words.
All the better for me, heâd said after you pointed out that you werenât from a so-called respectable family.
Youâd found that phrasing odd. Tried to excuse it.
But of course, it was better for him. This way, he could spite his parents.
Your skin crawled.
You couldnât remember anything else from that night, not the piano at Taehyunâs theatre, not the walk home. And what did any of it matter anyway?
âI told you that you had motives,â you said, a sardonic smile on your lips. Your eyes were hollow. âAnd when you said youâd only gone out with Amy to get your parents off your case, I thought, oh. Maybe youâre doing the same with me.â
Yeonjun opened his mouth to argue. You cut it off with a sharp scoff.
âI didnât fucking realise,â you went on, âthat you were using me to get back at them instead.â
The wind swept low across the quad, pressing the grass into obedient waves. Its steady rush filled the space between you.
Yeonjun swallowed, as though he could force your accusation down with his breath.
âIt wasnât that,â he tried, his voice barely audible over the wind. âI didnât want my parents to know about you. I told yoââ
You let out a short, humourless laugh.
âYeah. You said theyâd never support this relationship. Turns out that was the whole point.â You turned to him, eyes blazing with a heat so merciless that it made him feel entirely flammable. âAnd, really, you couldâve picked anyone for your little rebellion, couldnât you? But you picked me. Because I fit the scheme best, yeah?â
His fingers twitched against his thighs.
Everything that he had said to you over the past two weeks was crumbling and reforming into the version of him youâd always accused him of being. The version youâd dreaded.
âSâwhy you asked about my family on our first date, wasnât it?â you went on. âJust doing your research. Making sure I came from nothing. Thatâd really show them.â
He felt flayed open under your gaze.
When you looked away, however, he felt even worse.
âI asked about your family because I wanted to know,â he said. The words had to scrape their way up his throat. âThat was real. It wasnât about anything else.â
âRight.â You folded your arms tightly across your chest. âBut the bet itself was about your parents.â
Yeonjun dropped his gaze back to the gravel.
He understood painfully well that he couldnât fix this without breaking something else. If he explained everything properly, heâd end up telling you he loved you again. And he couldnât tell you he loved you if he couldnât be with you.
âI fucking knew it,â you muttered, more to yourself than to him. âAnd you made me feel stupid for thinking you were hiding something.â
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Until his motherâs call that morning, he had believed the two of you might stand a chance. Heâd thought youâd have a real shot, none of this game shit. Thought youâd be happy.
He couldnât believe now that you never would be.
âIâm sorry,â he said, clutching his jeans hard enough that his palm stung. The words were flimsy and inadequate, and still, he couldnât find better ones.
Your voice was flat: âDonât be.â
You bent down to gather the freesias from the bench. The faint scent of your perfume brushed past him, painfully familiar. The flowers looked terrible up close: bruised and battered, their stems bent at defeated angles.
You stepped onto the gravel without looking back.
Yeonjun felt each of your steps as if theyâd landed inside his chest.
You only paused once, at the rubbish bin by the low wall. Every fracture in your heart seemed to echo outward. You felt the cracks spread to your lungs, your ribs, your skin.
You werenât breathing.
One by one, you dropped the bouquets into the bin. The flowers struck plastic with a hollow thud, their colour vanishing into shadow.
The sound emptied him.
He knew he shouldâve stayed where he was. Shouldâve let you walk away.
If you believed he had used you, youâd stop fighting. Youâd leave. And if you left, his parents couldnât reach you.
He knew that.
And still, he stood. Still, he followed you down the path.
âWaitâplease.â
His voice cracked behind you, splitting the steady crunch of gravel beneath your feet. The sound startled a pair of pigeons pecking at the edge of the grass. They burst into the air in a frantic flurry of wings and landed on the roof of the Administration building. Its tall windows reflected the colour of old tin.
You heard the rhythm of his boots, heard his strained breathing.
You did not slow. If you slowed, you might stop. And if you stoppedâ
Yeonjunâs hand closed around yours.
His touch jolted your bloodstream, igniting a cascade of tremors along your spine. You stopped.
When you turned to him, your face was stone.
He released you at once. âIâIâm sorry.â
You folded your arms across your chest again, rebuilding the barricade between you. Your fingers dug into the sleeves of your coat.
âI justâI wanted to say,â he began, floundering, âthat itâll be okay. Youâll forget about me.â
Your brows furrowed. âWhatââ
âYou will,â he rushed on, looking at you like he needed you to believe this so that he could too, âbecause you deserve better.â His throat tightened helplessly. âBut IâIâll never forget.â
The air thinned inside your lungs.
A ray of sun slipped through the cloud cover and caught on the slick pavement. For a moment, the quad seemed jarringly bright.
âIâm really sorry,â he said again.
He took a step back, barely. Still, the distance struck you with palpable force.
You sucked in a sharp breath, grasping for words before pride could cauterise them.
âJun.â
His breath shuddered. His head dipped slightly forward like heâd been hit.
For a long, burning second, he hesitated, trying not to imagine what would happen if he walked back to you. If he explained everything. If you listened. If youâ
He couldnât.
He couldnât.
He couldnât.
âIâm sorry,â he said, hoarse. âIâm so, so sorry.â
He turned back towards his car.
Each step felt like he was walking through something viscous. He wanted to drive away. Disappear into roads that led nowhere, until he couldnât recognise anyone, not even himself, anymore.
You didnât move.
You watched him climb into his Mercedes. Heard the engine start. And watched, for the second and final time that day, as the car accelerated and disappeared at the end of the street.
When it was gone, the world did not pause for you to catch your breath.
A cyclist cut across the quad, with shorts that were too flimsy for this weather. Someoneâs phone rang behind you with a generic Apple tone. A window opened above.
Yeonjun had been wrong.
You would not forget.
⊠⹠âââ MARCH 10, 2025. 4:25 PM
When you checked the time, the screen of your phone blinked up at you with cold indifference.
You were twenty-five minutes late for your shift.
You stared at the numbers for a moment longer, as if willing the clock to rewind. It didnât. Your reflection stared back, warped faintly by the smudges on the glass, tired and unfamiliar.
You rang in sick before you could talk yourself out of it.
Your voice sounded distracted and stifled, even to your own ears. Eunji wasnât in today, but her assistant believed you without question. The ease of it all left something hollow behind your ribs.
You lowered your phone.
Youâd go home, then. Sort yourself out.
The campus stretched before you in brick and glass and damp concrete. Noticeboards sagged under layers of outdated flyers. Students passed, laughing and arguing. Someone was lying on the bench by the marble fountain.
âHey!â
The voice reached you from behind, pulling you back by force.
You turned back to see Soobin in the doorway of the Sociology building, his hand hooked in his backpack strap, the other one raised in a tentative wave. His hair was mussed by the wind.
You stopped, hesitated awkwardly, then wandered over to him.
âYou okay?â he asked, stepping down the stairs by the entrance.
Your gaze flicked past him automatically, searching.
âSure,â you said. âDo you, umâwhereâs Reina?â
Soobin glanced back without thinking. âUh, still with her advisor. Her meetingâs running late.â
You turned to the dark first-floor windows. âOkay.â
There was nothing else for you to do with yourself.
Soobin shifted his weight. He didnât know what to do with himself, either. He clasped his hands together, then let them go.
âDid you, uh,â he tried, âfind Yeonjun?â
Your jaw clenched before you could stop it. âI did.â
He lowered his voice as though Yeonjun would materialise beside you at the sound of his name. âDid you talk to him?â
âI did.â
He paused.
Clearly, he shouldnât ask how it went.
âIâIâm really sorry,â he said.
Something volatile churned in your chest. Youâd heard at least twenty apologies today, which was about twenty more than youâd needed.
âFor what?â you asked. The question came out quickly, sharper than you meant, and Soobin took a surprised step back. Guilt followed swiftly behind your irritation.
âFor mentioning, uhâthat so carelessly,â he said, then frowned at his choice of words. âI didnât mean to make anything worse. I know youâre sort of fighting andââ
âWeâre sort of not,â you said. âItâs over.â
Lips parting, he glanced down at your hands. You didnât have the freesias anymore. Your fingers were clenched into fists.
âYouâyou brought up my name,â you said.
His gaze shot up. âHm?â
âWhen Yeonjun couldnât think of someone to fit his idiotic scheme, you suggested me.â
The wind tore across the quad, tugging at the hem of your coat. Behind him, a door slammed shut in the draft.
Soobinâs boots scuffed against the gravel. âIâI didnât mean it like that.â
âThat really hurt, Bin,â you admitted. âI thought we were friends.â
He winced.
âWe are friends,â he said. âWe are. I swear, itâGod, this is such a mess.â He dragged a hurried hand down his face. âThe reason I suggested you wasnâtâI wasnât really suggesting you at all. Back then, Yeonjun talked about you constantly. Complaining or ranting orâwhatever. I told him he probably had a crush on you. He denied it, but he denied anything that didnât make him look cool.â
Your heart made an old, treacherous jump. You ignored it. You were getting very good at it.
âSo I-I said your name to wind him up,â Soobin explained. âI brought you up to him whenever I could. I was teasing. Thatâs all it was.â
A group of girls hurried past him, hunched against the wind. Introduction to Sociology was printed in thick blue letters across the spines of the books clutched to their chests. First years, most likely. They looked purposeful. Keen. You almost envied them.
âI shouldnât have said your name in that context, though,â Soobin added, quieter now. âEven as a joke. It was disrespectful. Iâm sorry.â
You turned back to him, measuring the sincerity in his eyes against the uncomfortable ache spreading quietly through your chest.
âI get that,â you said at last. You did not have the energy to dig through another argument today. âItâs okay.â
Soobin knew it wasnât okay.
But he hoped, perhaps selfishly, that you wanted it to be okay.
âI really wasnât trying to plant ideas in his head,â he continued, the words stumbling out of him as though on a run from something. âI just wanted to tease him. And he wasâhe was angry aboutâabout Amy, I think. Or his parents. We were both talking out of our asses.â
âIt makes sense, though,â you said, staring at the building steps behind him. âI do fit the scheme.â
The wind dragged a scatter of dry leaves across the quad. They scraped over the gravel with a loud, brittle sound that set your teeth on edge.
Soobin watched the distance settle in your eyes.
âOkay,â he conceded reluctantly. âMaybe you do. But thatâs not the reason he wants to be with you.â
You exhaled. Your gaze drifted past him to the spindly trees lining the gravel path. Their branches clawed at the grey sky.
âHe doesnât want to be with me,â you said.
I think Iâm in love with you
I think Iâm in love with you
I think Iâm in loveâ
âWe had a bet,â you added, stubbornly fighting against the tightness in your chest. âAnd now itâs over.â
âRight,â Soobin said. âBut it wasnât just aââ
âWell, even if it wasnât,â you said, voice growing louder despite your attempts at restraint, âeven if the scheme doesnât mean anything, he left, yeah? Said whatever he had to say and left.â
Soobin swallowed. âOkay. But that still doesnât mean that heââ
âOh, forget it, Bin. It doesnâtââ
âNo.â His voice was sharper now. It startled you both. âJustâjust listen to me for a second, alright?â
The campus had fallen unnaturally quiet. A lecture must have started; every building around you stood solemn.
Youâd never heard Soobin raise his voice before.
You nodded once, brief.
Soobin exhaled.
âHeâs tired,â he said. âHeâs been doing what his parents told him since he could walk. I think itâs reached the point where he doesnât even feel like a person anymore, just going through the motions. Following obligations. Day in, day out.â
He scratched his neck, searching for words that would explain his point without betraying everything Yeonjun had trusted him with. This felt like force majeure, though. He hoped Yeonjun would forgive him.
âSâwhy he races,â he went on. âSâwhy he goes out so much. Heâs got nothing thatâs actually his. Thatâs why he came up with that scheme, too. Out of desperation, I guess.â He stopped, catching himself. âItâitâs not an excuse, of course. Just... context? A-and I wasâI was scared for him. Living like that, always at someoneâs command, itâthatâs not a good life. But, umâwith you, heâs different.â
Your fingers found the edge of your backpack strap and pulled it tight.
âI donât know how to explain it,â Soobin said, exhaling slowly. âHe still never thinks before he speaks, I donât think he ever will. But he started to look more awake when he met you. More alive. He had aâwell, a purpose. Of course, that purpose was to piss you off, yeahâbut still. It was his. No one elseâs.â
Your thoughts were tangled together. You felt them splinter, felt them fight to make sense.
You remembered the way Yeonjun had looked at youâlast night and two weeks ago. Remembered that heâd wanted to cover up your relationship using the rumours about himself and Amy.
Maybe, heâd said, I didnât want to lose the one thing in my life thatâs got nothing to do with my parents.
You swallowed. âHow do you explain what happened, then?â
Your voice had changed. The new softness made Soobinâs chest twist.
He could hear, unmistakably now, that you were hurt.
Instinctively, he glanced at his coat pocket. His phone sat there completely useless. Heâd texted Yeonjun a solid half a hundred times already. Heâd left voice notes that ranged from frantic yellingâdo you realise what the fuck youâre doing?âto desperate reasoningâtry to use your brain, for onceâand none had received a response.
Soobin knew there probably wasnât much of a response anyway.
âHeâs protecting you,â he said. âFrom his life.â
Something inside you recoiled.
You did not believe that leaving could ever be protection.
âMhmm.â You clicked your tongue against your teeth. âOr maybe heâs still making it useful. Turning this into some other way to get his parents to fuck off. A new scheme, if you will.â
Soobinâs jaw tightened.
He could see you didnât fully believe this. But reverting to your old habit of hating Yeonjun restored your balance.
Hurt made you feel small. Anger did not.
âIâm really sorry,â he said again, softer this time.
âI told you, itâs okay.â
âNo.â He shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder. âI mean, about what happened with Yeonjun.â
You drew in a slow breath. The air in your lungs felt cooler now, sharper somehow. You held it in for a second, then let it go.
âWell,â you said with a faint lift of your chin, âitâs fine. I won the bet. So thatâs something.â
Soobin wondered, distantly, what his dentist would say about the way heâd been grinding his teeth for the past ten minutes. Itâd probably involve a mouth guard.
âWere you heading home?â he asked.
The question dislodged your mind from the dark depths itâd wandered to. You glanced over your shoulder, as if to check if the road youâd been taking was still there.
It was.
And if you squinted, you could just make out the trash bin, two streets over, where youâd tossed out the freesias.
âYeah,â you said.
âLet me walk you.â
You turned back to him. âWhat? No. Youâve got to pick up Reina from her meeting.â
Soobin was already fishing his phone from his pocket. âIâll text her.â
âNo.â You brushed your fingers over the edge of the device. âSeriously. Iâm fine.â
He lowered his phone and looked at you properly.
Your voice held steady, admirably so. But your eyes were overbright, like glass reflecting an aggressive slice of sunlight.
You noticed his scrutiny and offered him a small, stubborn nod. You werenât fine, but you would force yourself to be.
âIâm staying with you until Reina comes to replace me, then,â he decided, just as stubborn.
You let out a short scoff. âAm I on suicide watch? You really think Iâm down that bad?â
Panic flashed across his face. He mentally cursed himself for not having better articulation. He might just stop speaking altogether after today.
âThatâs not what I meant,â he said quickly. âI just think you could use some company. Itâs been a long two weeks.â
âItââ you began, but the weariness in your lungs stole the rest of the words. You exhaled what little air remained and nodded. âYeah, alright. It has been.â
His shoulders dropped an inch.
âCome on,â he said.
He draped an arm around your shoulders, careful, very afraid of startling you. His coat smelled faintly of Reinaâs perfume, floral and familiar. You allowed yourself to lean into it, just slightly.
âLetâs stop by the corner shop, and we can come back, pick Reina up,â he said. âSaw they restocked the ice cream you and Rei always hoard.â
A ghost of a smile flickered over your face. âWe donât hoard it.â
âItâs been sold out for months.â
âNot our fault they donât stock enough.â
He snickered, his chest moving gently beside you. The gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you walked.
âThank you,â you said, quietly.
He gave your shoulder a light squeeze. âSâwhat friends are for.â
⊠⹠âââ MARCH 10, 2025. 5 PM
By the time you and Soobin made it back to the Sociology building, sugar buzzing through your veins, plastic bags of ice cream biting into your fingers, the streetlights had begun to flicker on one by one. Behind the buildings, the sky had sunk into a flat, depthless blue.
Reina was just stepping out mid-sentence, Taehyun beside her, caught in a debate about a reality show that they both claimed to have never seen. Her hands carved passionate shapes through the air, nearly thumping into his chest as she made her point.
Taehyun noticed you first.
His gaze dropped immediately to the waffle cone in your hand, then the bag swinging from your wrist.
He gave Reina a distracted, âmhmm, yes, yes,â and crossed to you with singular purpose. Without ceremony, he reached into your bag and extracted a strawberry ice cream.
âAppreciate it,â he said, as though youâd got it for him personally, and tore into the wrapper with his teeth.
You snorted. âYouâre welcome.â
He paused, cone halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked to your tense shoulders, then to the restrained clench in Soobinâs jaw.
He almost asked what was wrong, but guessed, from the ice cream bags and the conspicuous absence of Yeonjun at your side, that you wouldnât want to talk about it.
âCheers,â he said instead, and stepped in to hug you. It was firmer than usual, deliberate, even as he angled the ice cream away from your hair. Cold syrup from his cone still brushed your sleeve as he pulled back.
He transferred the embrace to Reina, who squealed about the stickiness of his hands, but still wholeheartedly accepted the hug.
Then he gave Soobin a sticky fist bump, saluted you vaguely with his melting ice cream, and walked down the gravel path towards his theatre.
Reina stepped into the space he left behind, eyes alight when she spotted the second bag.
âYou angels,â she breathed while you rummaged for her favourite pear flavour, holding your cherry cone between your teeth.
âMeeting okay?â you asked, pressing the ice cream into her expectant hand.
âYeah,â she said. âJust a bunch of new reading he wants me to do. And Iâm still about two thousand words short of the minimum.â
You huffed. âMore literature review, then?â
âYeah. Or something close to it, anyway.â She shrugged. She wrote most of her thesis at three in the morning; that was when her brain worked best. âIâll worry about it before my next meeting.â
You smiled softly, biting into your waffle cone.
She watched your face as she unwrapped her ice cream. Your gaze seemed carefully neutral.
Soobin cleared his throat lightly.
âAlright,â he said. âIâll head home, then. Give you two someââ
âNo,â you said quickly. âStay. The three of us could hang out.â
Reinaâs eyes flicked to him.
He nodded.
She continued to watch him, another question passing through her gaze.
This time, he gave the slightest shake of his head.
She inhaled sharply and licked the melting edge of her ice cream.
âAlright,â she said, linking her arm through yours. The pear cream was a little tangy on her tongue. âLetâs go.â
The three of you walked back towards your flat. Conversation drifted in and out without committing to anything heavy: homework, spring break, graduation. The pavement glittered faintly beneath the streetlights. Your shadows stayed close together.
As soon as you unlocked the flat, warmth folded around you. The air inside still held the clinging sweetness of freesias.
For a second, you considered turning around, claiming youâd forgotten something, camping out in the stairwell. Anything to avoid the scent.
Reina brushed past you, clasping your hand and tugging you inside.
âRight!â she announced, kicking off her trainers in the corridor. She only released you when Soobin shut the door. âTakeaway. Do you want noodles? Or something spicier, maybe. Or pizza? Actually, pizza sounds great. But noodles areânoodles are nice. Oh, maybe soup? Is soup too depressing? Soup can be depressing, sâveryâactually, maybe we should skip straight to dessert. I read somewhere that fruit yoghurt works with roasted vegetables. Not cauliflower, though. I hate cauliflower. Would you want cauliflower with yoghurt? I think itââ
You laughed.
Her gaze snapped towards you, eyes lighting up with cautious victory. Sheâd distracted you, then, if only for a second.
âIâm going to put these in the fridge,â you said, taking Soobinâs bag. âBut if you order cauliflower with yoghurt, Iâm moving out and taking the ice cream with me.â
She laughedâlouder than sheâd meant in her eagernessâand nodded. Then she turned to help Soobin disentangle the absurd knot on his scarf.
In the kitchen, the freesias made it awkward to open the fridge. Petals brushed your wrist as you shifted them aside. The scent clung to the back of your throat.
You kept your gaze fixed firmly on the brushed steel of the fridge, refusing to look at the flowers directly. Refusing, especially, to think about where they had come from.
Youâd throw them out tomorrow, you decided. You didnât want to make a scene in front of Reina and Soobin.
You jammed the ice cream into the freezer, forced the door shut, then washed your hands to get rid of the stickiness from the cherry syrup.
With Reina and Soobin still arguing about noodles in the corridor, you slipped into your room. Your backpack landed on the bed with a soft, tired sigh. You unzipped it, pulled out your laptop and plugged it in.
While it powered on, you gathered the clothes draped over your chair and dropped them onto your bed. The shirt from last night was still faintly damp, cold at the cuffs. You dropped it quickly.
A soft ping.
You turned to your laptop. There was a new email notification in the lower right corner.
Subject: Offer â Predoctoral Research Fellowship, Sociology
Frowning, you lowered yourself into your chair and clicked it open.
The email started with your name.
It continued with words you couldnât understand.
Following a faculty review of candidates nominated to our office, the email read, we are delighted to offer you a place in the Predoctoral Research Fellowship Program in the Department of Sociology at New York University.
You blinked. Then scrolled down.
The more you read, the less plausible the email seemed.
It claimed to be about a fully funded, nine-month fellowship with a monthly stipend, health insurance, and guaranteed access to graduate housing. At one of the leading research universities in New York.
Your head spun. Your heart beat so fast it felt briefly unmanageable.
Institutions like that were for people who wrote their names with bold, golden letters. You had never even dared to visit their admissions page. You could only imagine the acceptance rate, the cost.
You scrolled back to the top and checked the sender. Director of Predoctoral Studies. When you hovered over the address, a proper New York University domain appeared.
Official, then.
Real.
You stood abruptly. The room tilted around you. You steadied yourself against the desk, then dropped to your bed, pulling the laptop to your knees. The charger stretched across the room.
You read the email again. Then read it three more times.
The quiet in your room had grown unnatural.
Reina knocked lightly against the doorframe, Soobin just behind her shoulder.
âYou good?â Reina asked.
You craned your neck towards her, then silently angled the screen.
They stepped inside. Soobin tripped on the charger and knocked the vase on your desk. He caught it before it hit the floor, muttering a distracted Jesusâfuck, then placing it back on your books.
They leaned in and read the email. Then read it three more times.
âShit,â Soobin finally exhaled. âI didnât even know you applied.â
âMe neither,â Reina murmured, her eyes locking onto the stipend figure.
âI didnât,â you said. âSays it was a nomination.â
Something tight pressed into your chest, neither joy nor anticipation. It made your eyes water. You swallowed and scanned the email again.
âTheyâre citing my Masterâs thesis,â you read, blinking too quickly. âSaid someâsomeone from the programme attended the Spring Conference last year. When I presented my research project. Said they wereââ Your throat caught. You cleared it. âSaid my work was noted for its rigorous methodology.â
You remembered that conference room last year, the harsh light of the projector. Remembered how dense your slides had been, how fast youâd rushed through them, words tangling on your tongue. Your hands had been shaking.
Youâd been proud of your work before, but during that conference, you were certain youâd embarrassed yourself. You couldnât remember who youâd spoken to after that, if anyone at all.
What you did remember, however, was that Yeonjun had been there, too, sitting in the back row. He hadnât presented anything, but heâd won the scholarship for outstanding academic achievements in a school year shortly after. It had reeked of nepotism. Youâd hated him for it.
Exhaling shakily, you returned your gaze to your laptop screen.
âFully funded, too,â Soobin said, leaning closer. âShitâyouâd only need to cover the flight.â
Your hands trembled against the keyboard. âYeah.â
Reina was the first to notice the shine at the corners of your eyes.
âBabe,â she said gently, sitting beside you on the bed. Her arm came around your shoulders. Her cashmere sweater was warm and soft against your side. âThis is incredible.â
You wiped at your cheeks with the heel of your palm, irritated by the heat in your eyes.
âI know,â you said. âYeah.â
Your voice sounded small, even if it refused to tremble.
Reina watched you, brows drawn together, her chest weighted with everything you werenât saying.
Only this morning, the two of you had chatted in the bathroom, laughing as you dissected the previous night. Following her relentless badgering, youâd told her about Yeonjunâs careless joke that you were practically living together. Told her about his infuriating smirk.
Would you mind, though? sheâd asked, waggling her brows at your reflection. Actually living with him, one day?
Horribly, you had replied, smiling despite yourself, not at all.
Now your eyes burned, and you couldnât understand why.
Reina could.
âCome here,â she whispered and did not wait.
She pulled you into her, one arm firm around your shoulders, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head. You folded into her without resistance, forehead pressing into her jumper. Her strawberry shampoo washed over you.
Your fingers curled into the fabric at her waist. Your breath hitched, then steadied. Then hitched again.
Soobin hovered tactfully in the doorway, pretending great interest in the peeling paint near the frame. He shifted his weight once, cleared his throat, and wordlessly excused himself to gather the takeaway menus abandoned on the kitchen counter.
Your bedroom held its breath. Your laptop cast a faint blue glow on the bed beside you. Staring at the screen, at the new life waiting for you there, something old stirred in your memory.
A poem.
Youâd read it in your first year, sprawled across your bed while you waited for Reinaâs late seminar to finish. The book had been second-hand, its spine broken, its margins annotated in cramped handwriting that wasnât meant for you to understand.
You couldnât remember the poet now. Couldnât even remember what the poem had really been about.
Only the final lines had remained, lodged deep inside you, dormant and patient. Waiting.
And the fairytale ends early,
On an unexpectedly sad note.
THE END
SEQUEL COMING SOON
prev â next
taglist:
@eleni-cherie @enhastolemyheart @beestvng @tomorrowbytgt @insaniteez @sorikkunhwangpil @yaintpaint @ohsowoozi @di3t-w0ter @virgopotterhead @beomgyusluver @pagesoobinie @champagne1221 @jammerhammerbanger @reiofsuns2001 @belabobanana @hheerrmmiitt @myglogic @mountyuki @adoresjjk @hueningsgirl @gunsfave @nanilis @yjcam @human-misery @angelgraphica @sooberriesx @yystarz @4wkjun @xjunniee @littlemoasoobin @kkyubear @proudsolarpunk @hyukalife @grogwrites @tarahardcore @jaegerbombin @danjakz @i4tzy @llvcyj @kookieterry @b9oms @starstrucktae @apriglw @mo0nstardust @koobiiiistar @unfiirt @yawnjjunnie @usuallyunlikelyfox @isakwon @r1hanna123
thank you for reading!!âĄâĄ

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
FROM THE START â Kim Jongseob
SUMMARY: Kim Jongseob has always been one of your brotherâs closest friends. All your life, heâs made you feel nervous, insane, and completely off balance, but thatâs what crushes are supposed to do, right? When Intak convinces you to join him and his friends on his birthday trip to Japan, it seems like a perfect plan! But what should have been a simple vacation quickly turns into a minefield of stolen glances and accidental touches.. now suddenly, everything feels different.
DISCLAIMERS: NON idol au! Smirk. brothers best friend! Reader is pining (It makes her feel insaneâŠ..) , LOSER!!!!jongseob Who else is shocked???? , She fell first and WAITED, he fell harder tho I think. vacation Hurray! kang haerin & kim dohoon mentioned , #Duo i made up but also not. im crying.
đ PROFILES; You & The Bffs. | Jongseob & Friends.
001: Sibling Negotiation.
002: Making It Out The Groupchat.
003: Can You Lowkey Spot Me.
004: Why Would A Man Be There.
005: Everythingâs Chill, Iâm So Chill.
006: My Sis Has Standards.
007
008
009
010
Ongoing ⊠!
ââ PERM TAG LIST : @u2jwon @tintedsvn @chandlxa @boptak @halaziasupremacy @reiofsuns2001 @snoopyzensstuff @hxraiiii @lisie-loves-u @quiiirkiiis2 @nataliasdiary @pxronbeat1 @seonghwaswifeuuuu @seobpaya @cryingwithsparkl3s @jongseobsno1fan @niyareloadedd @maffyy @yumimeimi @ilovjongseob @seobsongz
just lmk if u want to be added or taken off đ«°
COOL WITH YOU ; SIM JAEYUN
pairing .âïž ĘË barista!jake x customer to co-worker!reader, word count: 2676. genre: co-workers to lovers, fluff, kissing, clingy jakey. YOU ALWAYS ORDERED THE SAME THINGÂ at the same place.Â
Not because you liked routines, but because it gave you a way of coming back again without being too obvious about itâthe same drink, at the same time, at that small cafĂ© tucked between the bookstore and the florist that always smells like paper and roses.
And it meant that you saw the same barista daily.Â
By the third time you went in, Jake had already memorized your order. By the fifth time he didn't bother asking for your name, he just smiled when you walked in, reaching for a cup as you walked through the door.Â
You noticed that other girls would linger at the counter and that when they spoke to him their voices would often go softer, and would always laugh a little too loudly at his jokes.
You also noticed the drawings on your own cup.Â
At first, you thought it was just a fluke. There was a little dog drawn beside the sleeve of your cup, with its tail wagging and its tongue hanging out. The next day there was another little dog sitting down with floppy ears. Â
You glanced around, half-expecting to see the same thing on everyone else's drinks but you didn't. Some days it was a dog, some days it was a little heart drawn beside your name, and once there was a smiley face with dimples.
Jake always slid the cup toward you like it was nothing special. Like he didn't watch your face for your reaction. Or didn't look a little pleased when you smiled before you could stop yourself.
But you told yourself you'd stop trying to read into it.
Then one day things spiraled out of control. Â
The job you'd been clinging to finally snappedâbad management, worse hours, a conversation that ended with a printed letter and a forced apology that didn't feel real.Â
You didn't go to the café that day. Didn't have the energy to pretend you were fine.
You sat at a bus stop, looking down at the letter that had been folded in half too many times.Â
That's when someone stopped in front of you.
"...Hey."
You looked up. Â
Jake wasn't in his usual apron. He had a hoodie and jeans, hair tousled like he has spent the past hour or two without running his hands through it. The instant he saw the look on your face his expression changed.Â
"What happened?" he asked gently, and it sounded to you like he already knew it was bad. Â
You hesitated and raised the letter in your hands. "I got fired."Â Â
He frowned and sat right next to you without asking, close enough that your shoulders almost touched.
"That place sucked anyways," he murmured. "You always look tired." "How did you know?"
"I notice things," he said, glancing at you like he hadn't meant to say that so suddenly. An awkward silence filled the air. Vehicles continued to pass.Â
"Hey," Jake said suddenly, mood brightened up, like an idea had clicked into place. "My boss is looking for someone. Front counter. Morning shifts mostly."
You blinked. "Are you serious?" "Yeah," he said, already pulling out his phone. "You're good with people. And-" he stopped himself, smiling. "I think you'd fit right in."
As he is awaiting your response, you looked over at him closely and noticed the person who worked as a barista at the shop. A place where you frequently went, was also the person you found yourself developing feelings for, as he was sitting beside you like this was the most natural thing in the world.
"Okay..." you said.
His smile widened, relief clear on his face. "Yeah? Okay."
You wake up much earlier than you have to due to your nerves. By the time you step into the café, the sky is barely awake, sunlight thin and pale through the windows. The place smells like fresh grounds and something sweet baking in the back.
Jake meets you when you walk in.Â
He looks up when the door chimes, surprise melting into a smile that feels a little too warm for six in the morning. "You made it."
"Barely," you admit, adjusting your bag. "I don't know anything about coffee, by the way."
Jake laughs. "You're fine. I didn't know how to do anything with coffee at first either." Your first few interviews with your boss went very smooth. The questions the boss asked you were mostly yes and no questions. At the end of the interview, you're handed an apron and told you can start learning whenever it's slow.
Jake catches your eye from behind the counter, lifting his brows like see?.
Right now, you two are the only ones at the café, the low hum of the machines, and the occasional customers that come through. Jake shows you how to hold the portafilter, how much pressure is too much, how not to panic when the machine hisses.
"Like this," he says, guiding your hand. You mess up almost immediately.
He laughs, gentle, and steps closer to fix itâexcept instead of just reaching around you, his arms settle at your sides, hands wrapping over yours. Â
You were a little bit shorter than he is. Feeling his chest against your backâit's solid and warm through all the layers of clothing that you have on.
His chin dips closer to your ear as he speaks quietly, voice low so it doesn't carry.
"Relax your wrist," he quietly advises. "Yes, just like that."Â Â
Your heart stutters, attention scattered between the machine and the fact that he hasn't moved away yet. His hands guide yours slowly, patient, thumbs adjusting your grip until it feels right.
"Okay, you've got it," he assures you.Â
Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. "I think I'm gonna break something." He leans down slightly, closer so he can hear you. "You won't. Promise."  After that first shift, the girl from the back starts noticing things. She's been watching him instinctively gravitate towards you, often finding himself standing beside you when the café has a lull in business.
How he reaches for your cup instead of his own when he's testing drinks, how he waits for you to taste first.
She doesn't say much. Just watches. Files it away. Days pass, and the routine settles in. Jake continues to interact with you off and on throughout the day. He constantly checks in on you, fixes your mistakes before you've even noticed them, jumps into different conversations, and checks in on you during your busiest shifts.Â
He checks on you during rushes, refills your water without being asked, nudges your shoulder lightly when you look overwhelmed.
Like a puppy, really. One that refuses to leave your side.
Break time is quiet. The café hums softly in the background, sunlight pooling near the windows.
You sit at one of the small tables, scrolling through your phone, sipping hot chocolate that's mostly milk and sugar because Jake said you deserved something sweet.
He sits beside you, chair turned the wrong way, head resting on the table like he's exhausted from doing absolutely nothing. Somewhere along the way, he's found a marker.
You feel it before you see itâthe cool glide against your skin.
"Hey," you say, amused, glancing down.
He doesn't look up from what he was doing. He just kept drawing.Â
Little dogs appear along your arm, one after another. Some sitting, some mid-run, some with floppy ears that look like they're in motion. You giggle quietly and are careful to stay still so he wouldn't smudge the drawings.
"You really like dogs," you stated.
He hums in agreement, "Yeah." After a short moment of silence, he raises his head enough so he could look at you. "I have a dog, a golden retriever named Layla."
Your expression softens. "You do?" "She's with my parents for now," he says. "But... yeah. Grew up with her." You glance back at the drawings, smiling. "She kind of reminds me of you." He perks up. "How?" "Always around," you say lightly. "A little clingy. Friendly with everyone." Jake laughs, ears turning red. "Wow. Rude." But he doesn't stop drawing. Your co-workers notice this as well. They can see how comfortably close you are to one another without trying. They can also see how Jake leans in to hear what you say as if he doesn't want to miss anything you say. Even the boss glances over once, lips twitching with something that looks suspiciously like fond amusement. Domestic. That's the word that floats around without being said.
The girl in the back sees the drawing created by the marker, the dogs that are drawn on your arm, and how Jake is looking at you as if nothing else in this cafĂ© is more fascinating than you.Â
Her mouth tightensânot angry, just resigned. Some things are obvious when you know how to look. And Jake doesn't seem to realize he's given himself away at all.
Somewhere between your first full week and your second, he starts orbiting you like it's instinct. If you were restocking cups in the café, he would be there leaning against the counter just close enough to brush shoulders.
If you were at the register, he finds a reason to linger nearby, refilling lids that don't need refilling.
Your co-worker's noticed it, even the customers.Â
No one mentions anything, they just simply observe what has become the norm between you two.Â
During slower work hours, he drapes himself over the counter beside you, cheek pressed against your arm like it's the most natural place in the world. At first, you think he's jokingâuntil his grip tightens slightly, arms wrapping around you properly, his weight settling in.
"You're heavy," you murmur, not really meaning it.
"Mm," he hums, while his eyes were closed. "You're comfy." Looking down at him, you were surprised to see him breathing evenly. He had a tight grip on your arm as if you would vanish if he let go. You just sat there, letting him sleep, your heart doing something very silly in your chest.
As you look up, an individual walks past you both and stops.Â
"Is he... asleep?"
You shrug slightly, "I think so."Â
The person just laughs quietly to himself and continues walking.Â
Jake wakes ten minutes afterward, confused, his hair is disheveled, his cheek is still resting on you. He doesn't move immediately, just looks at you blinking, finally giving you a toothy grin as if he is embarrassed of himself and doesn't regret it at all.
Meal breaks are worse.
One afternoon, you're about to head out when he stops you, suddenly serious. "Wait."
He disappears into the back and comes out with a small paper bag, warm to the touch. He hands it to you like it's nothing, like he didn't clearly put effort into it.
"I made these last night."Â
You open the bag and see pastries. They look really nice and still soft inside.Â
"You made these?"Â Â
He shrugs, a little sheepish. "Wanted to see if I could."
You take a bite, eyes widening before you can stop yourself. "Jake, these are-"
He watches your face closely, grin spreading. "Good?"
You nod. "Really good."
He smiled looking pleased, moving in closer now. "Thought you might like them."
Across the room, the coworker who'd been watching you two from the start exhales quietly, shaking her head. The boss raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
Later, the cafe gets more crowded and you're freaking out trying to manage taking new orders. Jake finds you again, fingers hooking lightly into the hem of your sleeve.
"Hey," he murmurs, leaning in. "After shift... you wanna walk home together?"
You glance at him, at the hopeful curve of his smile, the way he's already braced for your answer like it matters more than he wants to admit.
"Yeah," you say. "I'd like that."
"Cool," he says, squeezing your sleeve once before heading back to his stationâlike he didn't just leave your heart racing in the middle of the cafĂ©.
The months blur together in the best way.
Morning shifts quickly become inside jokes that were shared in a whisper while standing at the espresso machine. Jake starts saving you the mug with the tiny chip on the rim because he knows it's your favorite.
You learned that he takes his breaks by standing against you instead of sitting down, how his hand always finds your sleeve when he's tired, how he listens better when you're close.
There are days when he will braid the string of your apron while you weren't paying attention. Other days he slips notes into your pocketânothing big, just dumb doodles or drink's on me today written in his messy handwriting.
Customers notice.
Especially the girls.
They watch the way Jake smiles at you differently, softer, like he's already chosen you out of everyone. They notice how he refills your cup without asking, how he stands too close behind you when it's crowded, how he laughs quieter when it's just the two of you.
Some of them have stopped coming as often to the cafe. Some reduced the amount they tip. Some roll their eyes when you are scheduled with Jake.
You never say anything about it, neither does Jake.Â
Today was one of those afternoons where sunlight stretches across the counter and everything smells like sugar and milk. Jake slides a cup toward you, eyes bright with expectation.
"Try this." The drink is warm, chocolate-heavy, topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream. After you take a sip, you make a content hum in approval and realize way too late that you have whipped cream on your top lip.
Jake's eyes drop immediately. He doesn't say anything. Just steps closer, fingers brushing your wrist as he leans in. "Hold still."
As you begin to question about his meaning, his lips gently graze your lips, carefully cleaning off any excess cream that remains on your lips. It's barely a kiss, but it lingers longer than necessary, warm and teasing, like he knows exactly what he's doing.
Your breath stutters.
He pulls back slowly, smirking to himself. "Messy."
You stare at him, heart racing while your cheeks warmed up. "You could've just told me."
"Yeah," he says, eyes flicking to your mouth again. "But where's the fun in that?"
Before he has an opportunity to look at you directly, you look away from him and raise your cup to your lips as if it has magically become the most fascinating object in the café. It was still warm, and the sweetness is enough to ground you, and you focus on that instead of the way your heart hasn't slowed down yet.
Jake has already noticed like always.Â
There was a gentle stir of movement beside you, indicated by the sound of Jake's shoes on the tile floor, and a narrowing of the space between you as you sensed Jake was closing in on you.
When you finally glanced sideways, he was already smiling to himself with that familiar little smirk that means he's decided something.
"Why are you hiding?" he murmurs, leaning closer.
"I'm not," you say, voice a little too soft.
He hums, unimpressed by your answer as he settles himself down beside you again. One hand comes down to the counter beside you, boxing you in just enough to make your breath hitch.
His mouth finds yours again, softer than before but deeper, unhurried. The kiss opens slowly, lips fitting together with an ease that makes your chest ache. He tilts his head, thumb brushing your wrist where it rests against the counter, lips lingering there testing how far he can go.
You melt into it before you realize you are.
The cup lowers forgotten as his other hand settles at your waist. The kiss deepens, breaths mingling, the world narrowing down to warmth and pressure and the quiet sound of him exhaling against your mouth.
It was all overwhelming.Â
You instinctively part your lips allowing her to follow, kissing you in a way that only you would ever get the chance to. The kind of kiss that leaves no room for pretending it means nothing.
"Ahem."
The sound cuts through the moment like a snapped thread.
You pull back too quickly, heart racing, heat flooding your face as you turn around. "Sorry-" you cough lightly, reaching for professionalism like it's a lifeline. "What can I get for you?"
Jake straightens beside you, expression composed, hands back where they belong, yet once his eyes land on you, they are filled with amusement and satisfaction as if he knows exactly what just happened to you.


