𑣲 Im 𝑺ol᯽ ݁˖

Your lovely boyfriend quickly messaged you to say he was coming over to your apartment tonight. The text made you happy, knowing you would get to spend some quality time with him before he left for a whole month. You were already going to miss him so much.

After reading his message, you went to the bathroom to freshen up and put on his favorite white hoodie—which happened to be one of the missing pieces he was looking for. You had borrowed it right after he finished his Weverse Live that day. He had looked so hot with that matching green cap and those sexy specs resting on his big, pointy nose. Ahem. As a sweet and generous boyfriend, he had willingly let you borrow it.

Hearing a soft knock, you immediately ran to the doorway. You opened it to find your boyfriend smiling warmly, holding a box of pepperoni pizza and buffalo wings—your absolute favorite couple food. You didn't even have to tell him what you wanted. Jake always brought your favorites without being asked. You loved him so much.

“Hello, babe! I brought some snacks for tonight, our favorite,” he said, pouting cutely.

You desperately wanted to kiss those pouty lips of his. He was just so kissable.

“Thank you for this, babe! I miss you so much already, and I’m going to miss you even more,” you said as you took the food from his hands, inviting him inside.

Jake immediately handed the food over and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. He followed you into the apartment, but his eyes instantly wandered to you wearing the white hoodie he had been searching for. Thinking about the dozen other hoodies you had borrowed, he began to re-think his life decisions, wondering how he could ask for them back for his tour without offending you.

Poor Jakey.

Soon, the two of you were eating in the living room while watching their Sleep En Dive in Melbourne episode. Both of you were laughing so hard your stomachs hurt because of the members' humor. Your boyfriend was particularly mischievous in this episode. He looked adorable with his bare face, fluffy hair, and dazed eyes.

While you were laughing, Jake gently tapped your shoulder, causing you to turn to him with a confused expression.

“What is it?” you asked.

“U-uh, about my hoodies?” Jake asked nervously.

“What about your hoodies, babe?” you questioned, more curious this time.

“I'm packing my clothes for next week, and I just wanted to ask nicely if I could get a few of my hoodies back?” Jake asked, flashing his best puppy eyes and pouting at the very end of his sentence.

“Of course! You can have them back, babe. Besides, they're your hoodies anyway, not mine,” you assured him with a warm smile.

“Aren't you mad?” Jake asked, blinking.

“No? Why would I be mad? It's your clothing,” you answered softly.

“I love you, babe!” he said, leaning in for a quick, sudden kiss that took you completely by surprise.

“Come on! Let's go to my room and get them for you.” you said.

The two of you cleaned up the food boxes and turned off the television before heading to your bedroom. As you entered, Jake sat down on your bed, patiently waiting as you opened your closet to retrieve his clothes.

Jake couldn't help but admire you quietly. He watched how his favorite hoodie rode up your torso whenever you reached for the upper shelves where the rest of his clothes were stored. His eyes trailed down to your tiny lace shorts every time you bent over to check the lower shelves.

Jake bit his lower lip, shamelessly checking you out. His mind was no longer on his missing hoodies.

He just wanted you right now.

Standing up, he walked over and stepped up right behind you. He gently wrapped his arms around your waist, startling you slightly. He began caressing your hips, slowly moving his hands up and down your sides.

“Hi, babe,” he murmured. His voice was low, deep, and completely intoxicating.

“Hello to you, too. What do you need?” you asked flirtatiously, leaning back against him.

“You, right now.” He gently kissed the nape of your neck, slowly pressing wet, warm kisses along the left side of your throat, making you giggle from the tingling sensation.

“Jake ahh–… I want you, too,” you whispered, closing your eyes to focus entirely on his touch.

“As you wish, babe.” Jake smiled against your skin, feeling like he had just won the lottery.

He stopped kissing your neck and slowly spun you around to face him. He gripped the hem of the hoodie and gently began pulling it upward.

“Hands up for me,” Jake ordered softly, and you quickly raised your arms.

“What a beautiful sight. Is this all for me?” he breathed out, his eyes darkening with hunger. 

He couldn't take his gaze off your figure. No bra, your boobs were flushed and bounced sexily after he removed his hoodie off from you and just those tiny, black lace shorts. Jake hates to admit that he was painfully hard right now. It was as if some ancient Greek artist had crafted and sculpted every single inch of your curves. He loved every part of your body, from head to toe.

“This is all for you, Jake. Only for you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a bold kiss.

Jake returned the kiss with the exact same hunger. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting you deeply as the lewd, breathless sounds of your make-out session echoed in the quiet bedroom. He cupped your right breast and gently caressed it as if it was some stress ball.

After a few intense moments, Jake finally pulled back just a fraction, resting his forehead against yours.

“You know, babe, you don't even need my hoodies anymore,” Jake whispered, a smirk playing on his lips. “Because I can warm you up much better than any fabric can.”

Damn, he was right. Jake definitely warms you up better than any hoodie ever could. You feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of it.

Before you could even formulate a spoken reply, Jake’s smirk widened. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your tiny lace shorts, slowly guiding them down your thighs. You stepped out of them effortlessly, leaving nothing between the two of you but the electric heat radiating from his body.

He didn’t waste another second, pulling you into a warm, tight embrace that made your heart race. Jake held you close, his chin resting on the top of your head as you stood together in the quiet room.

"Jake,” you whispered, resting your hands against his chest.

"I'm going to miss this so much while I'm away," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face, memorizing the moment for the long month ahead.  "I'm going to miss being right here with you." He added.

"Then let's make the most of the time we have left," you replied softly, as you gently pushed him to tugged his hoodie off too. Showing his toned chiseled abs that he always shows off to Engene’s in their concerts.

You were drooling. Also down there.

He crashed his lips against yours, exploring each other's mouth once again. As the night deepened, the missing hoodies scattered across the room were forgotten. The both of you tangled nakedly on your bed after the intense sex you had. Jake kept his promise to make the goodbye special, leaving you with happy memories to last until he finally returned home.

note: my first ever smut! im lowkey not satisfied with it huhuhu. forgive this noob author :(( btw, thanks for reading!! mwahh <333

You couldn't help but tease him, saying he looked more like a wolf than a vampire. The Prada Boy suit matched his vibe that day perfectly. He looked absolutely stunning in the red top, which complemented his gray suit so well. Everything about him was beautiful. The other boys looked handsome too, but your attention was entirely on your gorgeous boyfriend.

You were about to grab some ice cream when you suddenly heard soft knocks on your door. You immediately slipped on your slippers and hurried to the entrance to see who was visiting at this hour. Little did you know that your boyfriend was already standing impatiently outside your door. Jake hadn't informed you that he would be visiting tonight because he wanted to surprise you.

"Hi, babe!" he greeted excitedly, flashing his adorable smile.

You were shocked by the sight in front of you since you weren't expecting him to visit.

"I'm sorry for not telling you. I just wanted to surprise my beautiful girlfriend," he said softly while rapidly blinking his eyes like a puppy.

"You don't have to apologize, babe. I really appreciate the effort you made to visit me at this hour despite being tired," you assured him while gently cupping his face and kissing the tip of his nose. You love his nose.

The two of you entered your apartment and went straight to the living room. Once you settled down, Jake immediately handed you the paper bag he had been carrying.

It was a gift from Milan that he had bought while visiting the Prada store. As he wandered around the shop, observing the different pieces on display, his eyes landed on a minimalist black shoulder bag. He quickly picked it up and checked its condition carefully. While examining it, Jake smiled at the thought of you wearing it on one of your future dates together. The bag suited you perfectly—just like how he believed the two of you were perfect for each other.

You were taken aback when Jake excitedly handed you the paper bag. Just seeing the logo made you nervous because you knew it could be very expensive. Although you lived comfortably, you weren't the type of person who purchased extravagant things beyond your budget. You knew your limits.

Unfortunately, your boyfriend was the complete opposite. He loved spoiling you. To the point that you often begged him to stop buying expensive gifts that you felt you didn't need. But Jake was stubborn, and you both knew that.

"Thank you for the gift, baby! I really appreciate it, but you know this is super expensive..." you said quietly while unconsciously biting your lip.

"No refusing this time. My girlfriend deserves it—you deserve it. Besides, Layla can't wear that. You have no choice but to keep it, babe," he joked while pulling you into a warm hug.

"I miss you so, so, so much, Y/N. I miss being this close to you," Jake mumbled as he rested his head against your neck.

While hugging, Jake glanced at your laptop and noticed that the screen paused on a moment where he was waving at the camera.

"You miss me that much? You have to watch me on a screen?" he teased while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Chill, man! Can't you see I'm just supporting you?" you shot back, raising your hands as if the police had caught you stealing from a grocery store.

"Are you obsessed with me? Just admit it and I won't be mad at you. I promise!" he laughed, covering his mouth—a habit he had whenever something was too funny for him to handle.

"Shut up, Jake! I'll just watch Sunghoon's fancams since he looks pretty good with his new brown hair." you teased him back making him jealous from the sudden mentioned of his best friend’s name.

"Ouch! Brown-haired Sunghoon over your lovely boyfriend, Wolf Jake? Really, babe? I feel betrayed." he dramatically placed a hand over his chest and stared at you with exaggerated disappointment.

You simply sighed at the sight in front of you and turned away, smiling softly as you headed toward the kitchen.

…

Little did you know Jake quietly followed you. Before you grabbed the refrigerator handle, you felt a strong pair of arms hugging your waist from the back. He rests his chin on your shoulder while pulling you closely to his chest. He's so close that you can feel his heart beating right now at your back. Feeling his hot breath on the side of your neck. This lead you from receiving a hot sensation in your stomach. You blushed with the sudden skinship. It's been a while since the both of you have this kind of moment. It really feels good to have your boyfriend at your home, your home.

"We were just apart a few seconds ago, and now you're clinging to me like a koala. Guess who's obsessed now?" you tease Jake while you softly trace the veins on his left forearm. Damn.

"Alright, you won. May I kiss you right now, miss?" he quietly admitted, but Jake's voice was noticeably lower at this point. Your goofy boyfriend is no longer to be found. 

You turned around to face him but before you cupped his cheeks, he gently slammed your back on the refrigerator behind you while his plump lips landed on your lips before you realized. Jake kisses you like a mad man who's been unable to eat his meal for decades. His hands wander on your body while you keep pulling his hair, savouring the heat that you are currently sharing at the moment. Both lips, tongue, and teeth were fighting together like you are in a world war. The two of you stayed like that for at least 5 minutes without pulling away to each other. 

You're the one who pulled away as you were out of breath after the moment you shared. Putting your head on Jake's chest while panting hardly. He kissed your forehead and while patting your back gently. You can also feel how fast his heartbeat compared earlier. This made you pull Jake's waist to feel him more and the both of you rested for a moment.

"I love you, Y/N. You mean the world to me" Jake said to you as he kissed your temple.

"I love you too, my Jakey." you look up to him staring with your doe eyes as you quickly steal a peck from his lips.

Jake chuckled at your sudden actions. He ruffles your hair while grinning from ear to ear.

"I haven't taken a shower yet, would you mind joining me?" he shyly asked you while patiently waiting for your answer.

"Sure, I would love to take a shower with you Mr. Sim" you winked at him while shamelessly staring at him up and down.

Before he could grab you, you slipped out from his arm and quickly ran off and went to your bedroom. He can feel the sudden hotness going up from his cheeks taken aback with your flirtiness. Jake hurriedly walked to your bedroom while blushing. 

You weren’t sure when you became this clingy. Maybe it was just the way you loved— loudly, fully, with your whole heart. Or maybe it was because Jay made you feel like it was okay to be that way. He never once pushed you away. In fact, he’d pull you in closer.

You were his girlfriend. The clingy one. And he was yours— the patient, calm, quietly affectionate one. The one who always seemed to enjoy your affection, who welcomed your hugs even when he was sweaty from practice or half-asleep after a schedule.

So, when your work trip came up, you didn’t think twice about surprising him before your flight. You were only going to be gone a few days, but it felt like forever. You had texted him that morning, pretending you were already heading to the airport.

Instead, you’d asked the cab to wait outside HYBE for just ten minutes, just enough time to run upstairs, find him, hug him once and whisper a proper goodbye.

The hallways of HYBE felt oddly quiet for late afternoon. You took the elevator to the practice floor and tiptoed toward the familiar training room. You peeked through the glass to find Jay inside with the rest of Enhypen. They were laughing, all sprawled across the floor, drenched in sweat, clearly taking a break.

You reached for the door handle but paused.

Jay was speaking.

“My girlfriend is so clingy,” he said, laughing, voice light and teasing.
“I swear, she’d probably come here just to say bye before her flight or something.”

Your heart stilled.

Another voice, probably Sunghoon’s, chimed in, “She would, wouldn’t she?”

Jay laughed again. “She would. It’s so annoying sometimes. I don’t get a moment of peace, man.”

The others laughed, but you couldn’t hear them anymore.

Your fingers trembled on the door handle. You let go.

You stumbled back, trying not to draw attention, your eyes already stinging. A sob pressed against your chest, but you bit it back. Not here. Not now.

You turned and rushed toward the washroom down the hall. Inside, you locked the door and leaned over the sink, gripping the edges like they were the only thing holding you up. Your reflection in the mirror was pale, eyes wide, lips trembling.

Annoying.

He said I’m annoying.

The word echoed again and again, ringing louder than his laughter.

You had always known you were clingy. You texted him too much, hugged him too tight, asked to see him even during his busiest days. But Jay never once made you feel like it was too much. He let you love him the way you did. He said he liked it.

Maybe he lied.

Maybe he never wanted to hurt you, so he smiled through it but deep down, it was suffocating him.

You covered your mouth to stop the sob that finally escaped. Your cab was still waiting.

You didn’t even check your face before leaving the bathroom. You just walked straight out of the building, got into the cab, and texted Jay once you were seated.

[Y/N 🐰]: on the way to the airport now. have a good day at practice 💛

The reply came quickly.

[Jay 🐯]: thanks babe!! have a safe flight. text me when you land 😘

That was it.

He didn’t know you were just a few feet away moments ago, standing outside the room, hearing the words that sliced right through you.

The flight passed in a haze.

You barely remembered getting on board or the hotel you checked into when you arrived. But your brain kept looping those words. So annoying. Don’t get a moment of peace.

It wasn’t just what he said, it was the laughter. The way he brushed you off like a joke. The way no one disagreed.

Was that really how he saw you?

The first few days of the trip, you made yourself hold back.

You texted him daily, like always but your messages were short. Polite. Emotionless.

No cute photos, no voice notes, no “I miss you so much I could die”s. Just:

[Y/N 🐰]: morning. hope you slept well.
[Y/N 🐰]: heading to my meeting now. ttyl.
[Y/N 🐰]: landed back in the hotel. was a long day.

Jay didn’t seem to notice at first. He replied sweetly, called you whenever he could, and even sent food delivery to your hotel once. You picked up his calls when he rang but didn’t initiate any yourself.

When he teased you gently one night over FaceTime with a “Where’s my clingy girlfriend gone?” you just smiled and said, “Maybe I’m just tired.”

He didn’t press it.

And you were thankful.

Because if he knew the truth that you had been spiraling ever since overhearing him he might have just reassured you out of guilt.

You didn’t want pity. You just wanted to understand.

Were you too much?

Maybe distance was good. For both of you.

When you landed back home, HYBE had given Jay the day off. You didn’t even have to ask. He was already at your apartment, waiting with open arms and a stupidly excited smile on his face.

Normally, you would’ve jumped into his arms, wrapped yourself around him like a koala, kissed him breathless.

This time, you stepped into his hug and held him tightly… but quietly.

“I missed you,” you murmured into his chest, feeling tears threaten again.

“I missed you more,” he whispered, kissing your hair.

“I’m really tired. I think I’ll shower and lie down for a bit.”

You felt him hesitate, but he nodded. “Okay, babe. Want me to order in dinner?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, already walking away.

You didn’t see the confused crease forming between his brows.

In the days that followed, you pulled away even more.

You still kissed him good morning. Still cuddled on the couch. Still replied to his texts.

But your affection had changed.

It was measured. Careful. Held back. Almost as if you were scared to overdo it.

And Jay noticed.

Jay had been trying to convince himself that nothing was wrong.

At first, he chalked it up to jet lag. Then maybe work stress. You had just come back from a full-on business trip, after all. And still, you were warm, affectionate, kind. Still you.

Just… less.

You didn’t linger with your hugs. You didn’t sneak into his lap when he was watching TV or ask to hold hands while walking down the street. You still responded to his “I love you”s but always with a soft smile or a quiet “You too.”

And what unsettled Jay most was that you didn’t seem upset.

You weren’t cold or angry or ignoring him. You were… normal. Just a little too quiet. A little too reserved. Like someone walking across thin ice, afraid that one wrong move would make it crack.

And Jay didn’t know why.

“Everything okay with you two?”

Heeseung’s voice pulled Jay out of his thoughts one afternoon as they cooled off outside the dance studio.

Jay blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been spacing out for the past hour, man.”

Sunghoon looked up from his water bottle. “Did you two fight?”

“No,” Jay said automatically.

Because you didn’t fight. You never fought. You were the clingiest person he knew—but never demanding or dramatic. Just soft and sweet and maybe too gentle for someone like him.

He ran a hand through his damp hair.

“No fight. She’s just… different lately.”

“Different how?” Heeseung asked.

Jay hesitated. “I don’t know. She’s quiet. She doesn’t… I don’t know. Cling.”

Sunghoon laughed. “You miss her being stuck to you like Velcro?”

Jay smiled faintly. “Yeah. I do.”

It got worse in the next few days.

Not by much but enough that he noticed.

Your hugs lasted only a few seconds. You stopped cuddling into him at night unless he pulled you in himself. You smiled a lot but it didn’t always reach your eyes.

Jay caught himself staring at you more often than not. Trying to read your face. Trying to understand what changed.

You were always good at hiding when you were hurting. But he knew you well enough to sense something was off.

So, one night, when you were brushing your hair after a shower, he finally asked.

“Are we okay?”

Your hand paused mid-stroke. “Yeah. Of course.”

“You sure?”

You turned slightly to look at him. “Why are you asking that?”

Jay moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know. Just feels like… something’s different.”

You smiled. And it hurt him how convincing it was.

“We’re both busy lately,” you said. “Maybe it’s just that.”

Jay nodded slowly. “Okay.”

But his gut told him that wasn’t it.

A few days later, Jay’s manager stopped by the practice room to drop off some documents. They exchanged a few casual words, laughing about scheduling and performance outfits.

Then, as the manager turned to leave, he paused.

“Oh! By the way, I think I saw your girlfriend here last week.”

Jay blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, sometime last week? You guys were on break. I was heading up to a meeting and thought I saw her in the hallway. Looked like she was crying, actually. But I figured I must’ve been wrong. Thought she was out of the country, wasn’t she?”

Jay’s blood ran cold.

“What day?”

The manager scratched his head. “Uh… maybe Tuesday? Or Wednesday? Not sure. Why?”

Jay’s chest tightened.

Tuesday.

That was the day of your flight.

That was the day he had been joking around with the guys in the practice room. The day he’d laughed about how clingy you were. The day he’d said—

“She’d probably come here just to say bye before her flight or something.”

“It’s so annoying sometimes. I don’t get a moment of peace, man.”

His breath caught.

You had come.

You heard him.

Oh God.

Jay stood up so suddenly his water bottle toppled over. The other members looked at him in surprise.

“I have to go,” he muttered, already grabbing his phone.

You were curled up on the couch when the door opened.

Jay didn’t knock. He never did. But this time, the energy he brought into your apartment was different.

Urgent. Heavy.

You turned around, confused. “Jay?”

He looked like he’d just sprinted through a storm. His hair messy, shirt slightly damp from sweat, chest rising and falling like he hadn’t stopped moving since the studio.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just stared at you like his heart was breaking right there at the door.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, standing up slowly.

“You came to HYBE before your flight.”

The air thickened. You didn’t respond.

“You were outside the practice room,” he said, voice low. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

Still, you didn’t speak.

Jay crossed the room in three long steps and stopped in front of you. “Y/N… why didn’t you tell me?”

You looked away. Your throat burned.

“I wasn’t supposed to hear it,” you said quietly. “You didn’t mean for me to.”

“But I still said it,” Jay whispered. “And I’m so sorry.”

You clenched your jaw, blinking fast. “Did you mean it?”

“No.” His voice cracked. “I mean—I said it. And maybe there was some truth in the joke. But not the way you think.”

You finally looked up at him, eyes shimmering.

“Then explain.”

Jay exhaled slowly.

“I was tired that day. We were joking around. And yeah, I said you were clingy. But it was dumb. Stupid. I didn’t mean it to sound like a complaint. I didn’t mean it like you were a burden.”

You didn’t say anything.

Jay stepped closer. “Do you know how empty it feels without you clinging to me all the time?”

That surprised you.

He continued, “I miss you barging into my day with twenty texts. I miss you hanging off my arm. I miss you falling asleep on my shoulder even when I told you I was too sweaty.”

A shaky laugh escaped you.

“I’ve been walking around like an idiot wondering why my own girlfriend suddenly feels… distant,” he said. “And it’s because I hurt you. Without even knowing it.”

You swallowed hard.

“I didn’t want to be too much,” you whispered. “I thought maybe you were just too nice to tell me to back off. And then I heard that, and I… I couldn’t un-hear it.”

Jay pulled you into his arms.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “you are not too much. And if I ever feel overwhelmed, I swear I’ll talk to you about it like an adult. Not laugh about it behind your back like a coward.”

You buried your face into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop loving me the way you do. I like it. I love it. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

You were crying now. Silently, but openly. Your fists clutched the back of his shirt.

“I missed you,” you mumbled.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “The real you.”

Jay stayed the night. He held you until you fell asleep. And when you woke up, he was still there, watching you with a look so full of guilt and affection, it made your chest ache.

But even after his apology, something still lingered.

You tried. You smiled more. Hugged him longer.

But you were hesitant. Still afraid of slipping into being “too much” again.

Jay noticed.

So he did the only thing he could.

He doubled down.

Jay hadn’t stopped trying since that night.

You could feel it in every small gesture, every extra text, every meal he cooked for you (even if it was just ramen), every time he pulled you closer in bed when he thought you were asleep.

He never outright said, “Please go back to being clingy,” but it was in the way he lingered after hugs, the way he sent little updates about his day hoping you’d reply with your usual excited rambles. It was in the way he’d pause before hanging up a call, waiting, just waiting, for you to say “Wait, don’t hang up yet.”

But you didn’t.

Not yet.

You couldn’t help it. Even though you believed him, believed the apology, believed that he loved your affection, it was hard to silence that voice in the back of your head.

What if he just said that to make you feel better?

What if he only missed it because it was gone?

You didn’t want to return to being your old self if it meant smothering him. And you didn’t want to ask for reassurance constantly either. That would make you even more clingy, wouldn’t it?

So you stayed somewhere in the middle.

You loved him quietly. Carefully.

And Jay, slowly but surely, began to unravel that quiet.

It started with the small things.

He sent you selfies, not just the polished, fan-facing ones, but blurry shots of him mid-bite at lunch, or with half of his face smushed into a couch pillow.

[Jay 🐯]: rate this hair from 1 to “should I just shave my head”

Or—

[Jay 🐯]: me thinking about you. also about cake. mostly you tho

Sometimes you replied. Sometimes you left him on read. But he didn’t stop.

Then he brought home your favorite pastries one evening.

You smiled, a little surprised. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just missed your smile when you see these.”

You felt your heart crack a little. You hadn’t lit up the way you used to. Not since that day.

Then came the soft ambushes.

You were brushing your teeth when he wrapped his arms around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Miss this,” he mumbled through his reflection.

You tried to laugh, mouth full of foam.

When you rinsed and turned to face him, he was still there, looking at you like you hung the moon.

“You don’t have to hold back,” he said softly.

You looked down. “I’m trying not to… smother you again.”

Jay sighed. He lifted your chin gently with one finger so you’d meet his gaze.

“You never smothered me,” he said. “You just… made my days brighter. And warmer.”

A long silence passed.

You looked at him, then reached forward and poked his cheek. “You’re really not mad I used to cling to you all the time?”

Jay smiled. “I loved it. I was just being an idiot around the guys. Trying to sound funny and cool.”

“You’re terrible at that.”

He laughed. “I know.”

And then you hugged him.

Properly. Tightly.

Like the old you would’ve.

He melted into it immediately, arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.

“I missed this,” he whispered into your hair.

You pressed your face into his neck. “Me too.”

But it wasn’t all better overnight.

There were still moments when you’d pause before reaching for his hand. Still moments where your fingers hovered over the “call” button on your phone, wondering if you were doing too much again.

Jay never stopped noticing.

So he made it his mission to rebuild what had cracked.

One evening, you were curled up on the couch reading, and Jay sat beside you holding his phone. A few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

[Jay 🐯]: miss you.

You glanced at him. He was right beside you.

He grinned and sent another.

[Jay 🐯]: miss my clingy koala too

You blinked at the screen, heart stuttering.

Then he reached out and pulled your legs onto his lap.

“I’m giving you a chance to cling again,” he said casually, flipping through Netflix.

You stared at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered but your voice was warm, your chest lighter than it had been in weeks.

He looked over and smiled. “But you love me.”

You rolled your eyes.

And climbed into his lap.

A week later, Jay had a short out-of-town schedule. You went to drop him off at HYBE.

You hesitated outside the building, remembering that day. Your chest tightened a little.

But Jay was waiting at the entrance this time. As soon as he saw you, he ran over and threw his arms around you.

“I knew you’d come say bye.”

You smiled against his shirt. “Do you want me to?”

Jay leaned back just enough to meet your eyes. “Yes. Every time.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

He kissed your forehead. “And I’ll be starving for affection.”

Later that night, Jay sent you a voice note from his hotel bed.

“Babe. You left a hoodie here. It smells like you and now I’m lying in bed like a loser sniffing your sleeves. Hope you’re happy. Also, I miss you. And I hope when I get back, you’ll jump on me like the clingy little koala you are. I need that. Seriously.”

You laughed to yourself, cheeks heating.

You recorded a reply:

“That’s what you get for saying I’m annoying behind my back. 😤 But yes. Prepare to be clung to.”

He replied in a heartbeat.

[Jay 🐯]: that’s my girl 🥹

Jay’s trip only lasted three days, but you found yourself counting the hours until he returned.

Maybe it was the way he kept checking in, texting you the dumbest memes, or updating you about every little thing he ate. Or maybe it was because, for the first time since everything happened, you felt like your old selves again, playful, chaotic, and full of love.

You'd been cautious for so long, trying not to step over some invisible line.

But Jay had erased it completely.

When you picked him up from HYBE that evening, Jay didn't even wait for you to unbuckle your seatbelt before dragging you out of the car and into a tight embrace.

You squeaked in surprise. “Jay!”

“I told you I’d be starving for affection,” he mumbled, lips brushing your ear. “And I meant it.”

You laughed, heart warm and full. “Did you miss me that much?”

He pulled back and cupped your face in both hands. “I missed you so much that I used your voice notes as lullabies and told Jake I was suffering from cuddling withdrawals.”

“Poor Jake.”

Jay smirked. “Poor me.”

Then you kissed him.

And maybe it was just a kiss to the world, but to you, it felt like a reset. Like everything between you had settled again. No more walking on eggshells. No more holding back.

You were home again. In him.

In the days that followed, the shift between you two was impossible to miss.

The subtle distance you had placed between your hearts was gone. You clung again, softly, playfully, and sometimes even more than before.

Jay didn’t just welcome it. He mirrored it.

He reached for your hand more often. Held you longer in the mornings before you got out of bed. He surprised you with coffee deliveries, forehead kisses, and random “I love you” texts at 3AM.

One afternoon, while he was cooking, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and rested your cheek on his back.

“Koala mode again?” he teased.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed. “You said I’m allowed.”

“You’re encouraged,” he corrected.

You peeked up at him. “So I’m not annoying?”

He turned off the stove, dried his hands, and spun around to face you.

“No,” he said seriously. “But even if you were, you’d be my annoying.”

You grinned.

Then, just to mess with him, you whispered, “I might text you thirty times tomorrow while you’re at practice.”

“I’ll reply to all thirty.”

“And I might kiss you in front of your members next time.”

“Good. Then they’ll stop calling you fake for being ‘less clingy.’” He gave you a look. “Yeah, they noticed too.”

You gasped. “No way.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “Jake said he almost cried when you left a room without hugging me once.”

You laughed, burying your face in his chest.

Jay held you closer.

“I’m sorry again,” he murmured. “For hurting you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And thank you. For making me feel safe again.”

He kissed the top of your head. “You never lost that place. You just forgot where it was for a while.”

A few weeks later, you surprised him at HYBE again. This time with coffee for the whole group and a massive bear hug for Jay the moment he stepped out of the practice room.

Sunghoon whooped dramatically. “She’s BACK!”

Heeseung pumped his fist. “Balance has been restored!”

Jay just wrapped both arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world and said, “My girlfriend came to say hi. Be jealous.”

Jake fake gagged. “Gross. But also… finally.”

You smiled into Jay’s shoulder.

It felt good to be back.

That night, after dinner, Jay curled up beside you on the couch and tapped your nose.

“I never told you this,” he said softly, “but when I first met you, I knew you were going to love hard. I could feel it.”

You looked at him. “Is that a good thing?”

Jay nodded. “The best.”

He ran a finger along your jaw gently.

“You make me feel loved all the time. Even when you're annoying.”

You glared. “Jay.”

He laughed. “I mean in a good way.”

You crossed your arms. “There’s no such thing as good annoying.”

He leaned in, kissing the side of your neck. “Sure there is. It’s the kind that keeps me warm. Keeps me grounded. Reminds me that someone wants to be around me, even when I’m tired or grumpy.”

You softened.

“I used to think I’d need a lot of space to feel okay in a relationship,” he continued. “But then you happened. And I realized I don’t want space. I want you. Every weird, clingy, dramatic bit of you.”

Your eyes shimmered.

“You’re going to make me cry again,” you murmured.

He smirked. “Then cry on me. I like when you do that too.”

You shoved him playfully, and he dragged you into his lap, tickling you until you were breathless and smiling through tears.

And later, when the apartment was quiet and you were lying tangled in each other under the sheets, Jay whispered, “Thanks for not giving up on us.”

You kissed his chest where your head rested.

“I never could.”

One rainy morning, Jay was rushing around getting ready for another early schedule when he noticed you sleepily padding after him, wrapped in his oversized hoodie.

He turned just as you flopped face-first onto the couch.

“Do you want me to cancel and stay home?” he joked.

You made a noise that sounded suspiciously like yes.

He chuckled and walked over, crouching down in front of you.

“Clingy again?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

You yawned. “Always.”

Jay leaned in and kissed your nose.

“Good.”

Then, with a grin, he added, “You’re lucky I love it.”

You pulled him down into one more hug.

And when he left, he did so with your warmth still clinging to his clothes and your love still blooming quietly in his heart.

The end~

PARK JONGSEONG

it’s actually ridiculous how jay refuses to blink while watching you get dressed for your anniversary dinner because he’s leaning against the doorframe looking like an absolute model himself, but he’s completely hyper-fixated on the way you’re styling your hair. he has this knowing smirk on his face like he’s already thinking about how he’s going to show you off later, and no matter how many times you tell him to go wait in the living room, he just hums and says he’d rather stay right where he is... until your daughter waddles into the room and notices her dad staring a little too hard. she immediately gasps dramatically and runs over to push against his legs with all her might, telling him that staring isn't polite and that mommy needs space to get pretty, effectively pushing a very amused jay out into the hallway before she literally slams the bedroom door shut in his face to keep you safe from his staring.

SIM JAEYUN

the way jake looks at you when you’re getting ready is enough to make anyone melt because he has those big puppy dog eyes that just track your every movement like you hung the stars in the sky, and he keeps whispering little compliments under his breath about how beautiful you are even when you’re just wearing a bathrobe. it’s super sweet but totally flustering because you can’t even put on your lipstick properly with him sighing dreamily every five seconds, which prompts your little boy to intervene on your behalf. he literally climbs up onto the bed behind jake and wraps his tiny hands over his dad's eyes like a blindfold, loudly declaring that dad is banned from looking until mommy gives the final reveal. jake starts whining playfully and tries to pry the little hands off his face saying he just wants to see his beautiful wife, but your son acts like a strict security guard and refuses to budge an inch.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon always tries to act so cool and collected but the second you put on that dress he’s completely paralyzed, just sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room and tracking your every movement through the mirror with this intense, dark gaze that makes you feel so entirely loved but also super self-conscious. he’s totally captivated by you and doesn't even bother hiding it, which immediately triggers the protective instincts of your little girl who happens to be playing with her blocks on the floor. she notices his intense staring and instantly drops her toys, marching over to grab a giant throw blanket from the bed and holding it up as high as she possibly can right in front of sunghoon's face. she sternly tells him that mommy is off-limits and he has to pay the toll to look, making sunghoon let out this rare, loud laugh as he pulls her into his lap, though she still aggressively covers his eyes with her hands to make sure he doesn't sneak a peek.

KIM SUNOO

you literally can’t even brush your hair without sunoo practically whining from the doorway because he thinks you look way too pretty to be going out tonight and he keeps dramatically sighing about how he just wants to keep you all to himself in the house. he’s resting his head against the door and pouting while watching you apply your lip gloss, his eyes completely glued to you in this extremely endearing way... but your son is having absolutely none of it. taking his role as your tiny protector very seriously, he grabs his plastic toy sword and stands right in the doorway between you and sunoo, pointing it at his dad and warning him that he needs to back away from mommy immediately. sunoo immediately gasps and puts his hands up in mock surrender, dramatically whispering to you that your bodyguard is too scary and he guesses he'll just have to wait patiently in the living room like a good boy.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon has this habit of just quietly existing in your space while you get ready, sitting cross-legged on the floor playing with the cat but totally stealing these lingering, dimpled smiles at you through the mirror whenever he thinks you aren't looking, though you can totally see him. his gaze is so warm and fond that it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach all over again, but your daughter is quick to interrupt the romantic tension because she runs into the room and immediately identifies her dad as a threat to your getting-ready routine. she practically throws herself over jungwon's eyes, burying his face into her chest and telling him no looking at mommy until she's done being a princess. jungwon just chuckles that sweet laugh of his and wraps his arms around her, trying to bribe his tiny security guard with the promise of ice cream if she just lets him look at you for one more minute, but she firmly shakes her head and demands he close his eyes tightly.

NISHIMURA RIKI

ni-ki being so annoying keeps poking you while you’re trying to do your makeup, and he refuses to look away even when you swat at his chest and tell him to stop staring at you so intensely. he just wraps his arms around your waist from behind and rests his chin on your head, watching your reflection with this incredibly focused look that makes you completely forget how to use your mascara ... until your little boy comes storming in to save the day. your son grabs onto ni-ki's pant leg and starts tugging with all his tiny strength, scolding his dad for being a creep and bothering mommy while she's busy. ni-ki pretends to be shocked by the accusation and tries to argue that he's just admiring his beautiful wife, but your tiny bodyguard physically wedges himself between ni-ki's legs and pushes him backward until ni-ki finally yields with a laugh, leaving you to finish your makeup in peace while your son stands guard at the door with his arms crossed.

You were a simple girl.

Simple, average, ordinary. Not the type to snag straight A's in every class, but not failing either. You were the kind of girl teachers barely noticed—just another name on the roll call, another face in the crowd.

You liked pink—just enough to keep it cute, but not the over-the-top glittery kind.

You didn't obsess over fandoms or have bags covered in pins and but you have figurines. Your style wasn't edgy or pastel chic or anything that made you stand out. You were... balanced. Plain. Normal.

Your high school life reflected that. Simple. Average. No exciting detours.

You weren't a sports star who got their name chanted in the bleachers. You weren't a science geek impressing everyone with your brainpower. You weren't a mean girl, a party kid, or a cheerleader.

Oh, but you wanted to be a cheerleader.

You wanted to wear that uniform, flip through the air, feel the rush of the crowd. You wanted the applause, the way everyone's eyes followed them when they walked the halls.

But no one cared about a normal girl trying out.

Reputation was everything in high school, and yours? Too simple. Too... forgettable.

You could cheer. You could dance. You could pull off a backflip, a split, the whole routine. You had the skills. What you didn't have was the image.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" one of the cheerleaders asked, her voice dismissive as you landed your final jump during tryouts. You stood there, panting, sweat dripping down your face after nailing the routine.

"A boyfriend?" you repeated, blinking, stunned. What did that have to do with anything?

"From football? Hockey? Maybe Math Olympiad?" she continued, her smirk curling like she already knew the answer.

You froze. Of course you didn't have a boyfriend. You were an NBSB—No Boyfriend Since Birth kind of girl. But how was that even relevant? You were here to cheer, not audition for a dating show.

"We'll let you know if you're accepted... or not," another cheerleader chimed in, her voice dripping with boredom. She wasn't even pretending to care about your performance.

You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breathing, gripping your bag so tight your knuckles turned white. The sting of their indifference burned in your chest as you turned and walked out of the gym, sweaty and defeated.

Reputation doesn't matter, they always said. What a joke. High school was all about reputation—who you dated, who you were seen with, who you weren't.

And being a simple, average, normal girl? That just wasn't good enough.

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself face-to-face with them again—the cheerleader tryouts.

So, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out:

"My boyfriend is Park Jongseong."

The world seemed to stop for a second. All the cheerleaders froze, wide-eyed, jaws dropping like a scene from a poorly-scripted teen drama.

"Wait—Park Jongseong?!" one of them shrieked, her voice climbing several octaves. "The hot guitarist in the band?"

You nodded, keeping your expression sweet and innocent, careful not to let your fabricated lie crumble.

"Oh my god!" Another cheerleader nearly jumped out of her skin. "He's, like, the hottest guy in school! And so... mysterious."

"He's so cold, though," another chimed in, tilting her head suspiciously. "How did you even—"

You cut her off, spinning your web of lies before she could unravel it. "Oh, it just... happened," you said with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal.

"We met at this café off campus. He asked me about my drink order, and, well..." You let out a dreamy sigh, painting a picture so vivid you could almost convince yourself it was real.

"He's so sweet. He cares about me so much. Like, he cooks for me when I'm tired, aftercare after sex, kisses me goodbye every morning, and—" You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice to a whisper. "He even lets me touch his guitar."

The gasps that followed were almost deafening.

"No way!" one of them shrieked, clutching her chest in disbelief. "Park Jongseong doesn't let anyone touch his guitar!"

You nodded solemnly, as if sharing a sacred truth. "Well, he lets me."

For a moment, you thought you'd pulled it off. You were a star in their eyes, a girl who'd managed to capture the unattainable Park Jongseong's heart.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

Park Jongseong hate everyone, especially you. And honestly? You didn't blame him.

The first time you'd crossed paths, it had been a disaster.

You'd been drinking water at your locker when he appeared out of nowhere, walking right past you. Startled by his sudden presence, you'd choked, spraying water directly into his face.

His jaw had clenched, his eyes shutting as he took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to lose his temper.

"Sorry!" you'd squeaked, your face burning with humiliation.

And then, like the socially awkward creature you were, you'd bolted down the hallway, leaving him dripping and furious.

Then there was the incident in the music room.

You'd been poking around the instruments out of boredom, your fingers grazing the strings of a random guitar when—CRASH. Your foot caught on something, and the stand holding his prized guitar tipped over, sending it sprawling to the floor.

Right at that moment, the door swung open, and in walked Park Jongseong.

You froze like a deer in headlights, your heart dropping to your stomach as his gaze landed on his guitar, then on you. His face was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered, holding up your hands in a weak peace sign. Before he could say anything, you darted out of the room. You ran away, again.

And who could forget the volleyball incident?

You'd been practicing serves in the gym when he and his friends walked in. Your focus wavered for a split second, and the ball sailed in the wrong direction—straight into his face.

You gasped as blood began dripping from his nose. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you stammered, panicking as he grabbed his face, clearly in pain.

Without thinking (or, honestly, with too much thinking), you did what you always did. You ran, again.

And now, standing here, spinning lies about a romance that didn't exist, you had to fight to keep your composure.

"Wow," one of the cheerleaders gushed. "I can't believe you and Jongseong are, like... a thing!"

"Yeah," you said with a forced laugh, clutching your bag tightly to hide how sweaty your palms were. "He's... amazing."

But in the back of your mind, all you could think about was how Park Jongseong would react if he ever found out about this.

And...The story spread faster than you could have ever imagined.

One second, you were fabricating a harmless little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the entire school seemed to think you and Park Jongseong were soulmates—or worse, a thing.

And not just any kind of "thing." No. The rumors had grown legs, arms, and a whole personality.

"Is it true that Park Jongseong is... like, huge in bed?" one girl whispered as you passed her in the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You choked on absolutely nothing, gripping your bag as if it might save you from spontaneously combusting.

Another girl caught up to you, practically skipping alongside you. "Oh my God, how was it? You know, with him? Is he all intense and broody like he looks, or does he have a soft side?"

You stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"He's... uh... great?" you stammered, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so unconvincing.

Her jaw dropped, and before you knew it, a crowd of girls—yes, the famous girls—was swarming you, each one louder and more persistent than the last.

"I can't believe you got him to date you!"

"Wait, wait, wait—did he really let you touch his guitar? Because I heard he doesn't even let his bandmates touch it."

"What's his favorite food? Does he let you steal his hoodies? Is he ticklish?"

"Is he actually the silent-in-public, wild-in-private type? Tell us everything!"

Your head was spinning. They were everywhere, and you couldn't escape. You tried smiling naturally, nodding here and there, but the panic bubbling inside you was threatening to explode.

"Oh my God, you're not even in the cheerleading pep squad yet? How dare they still not accept you!" one girl exclaimed dramatically. She flipped her hair with a loud scoff. "I mean, I saw your audition, and it was fucking amazing."

You blinked. She definitely had not seen your audition.

"Y-yeah, um... thanks," you muttered, clutching your bag tighter and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

It was still early, but the hallway was packed. The questions kept coming, the voices growing louder, and you were just about ready to melt into the floor.

And then it happened.

You let out a tiny squeak as someone grabbed your arm, yanking you out of the circle of girls. You stumbled, blinking in shock, and turned to see who your savior—or captor—was.

Your heart nearly stopped.

It was him.

Park Jongseong!

Jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes darker than your worst nightmares, and hair falling messily across his forehead like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.

Except he didn't look like a model. No. He looked angry.

Like, furious.

Oh, you were so, so dead.

"S-see you later, girls!" you called out, your voice cracking as you tried to sound cheerful. You gripped his arm like your life depended on it, forcing a smile as he dragged you through the hallway.

The crowd erupted behind you.

"Oh my God, they're really together!"

"I knew it!"

"They're so cute! Look at how she holds onto him!"

Your face felt like it was on fire. You could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway locked on you as Jongseong stormed forward, his grip firm but not painful. You tried to match his pace, but his legs were longer, and you were practically jogging to keep up.

You tried to focus on breathing, but the more they talked, the more you wanted to just curl up and disappear.

Meanwhile, Jongseong hadn't said a single word. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Uh, Jongseong—"

Before you could finish, he yanked open the door to a small storage room, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you with a loud click.

"Hey—what are you—"

"Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and sharp.

You blinked, startled. The room was small, cramped, and dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Shelves stacked with cleaning supplies and dusty boxes surrounded you, and the air smelled faintly of bleach.

Jongseong leaned against the door, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"What the hell?" he said finally, his voice laced with irritation.

You swallowed hard, gripping your bag like a shield. "I... I can explain?"

"Yeah, you'd better," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your knees feel like jelly.

"Why is everyone in this school convinced we're dating? And why," his voice dropped lower, "did I just hear someone asking if I'm good in bed?"

You winced. "Okay, so... it might've gotten a little out of hand."

He let out a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow. "A little?"

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Look, I was just trying to impress the cheerleaders! They don't think I'm cool enough to make the squad, so I might've... um... made up a story."

His jaw tightened. "A story? About me?"

You gave him a weak, apologetic smile. "I didn't think it would blow up like this! I thought they'd just forget about it after tryouts!"

"Oh, yeah, because rumors about me always disappear quietly," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You bit your lip, your embarrassment growing by the second. "I'm really sorry. I'll fix it. I promise."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "How exactly do you plan to fix this? Everyone already thinks we're a couple. You should've thought about that before you opened your mouth."

"I know, I know!" you said, your voice rising slightly. "But I didn't think people would actually believe me! I mean, look at you! You're, like... you, and I'm just... me."

He stared at you, one eyebrow twitching. "What does that even mean?"

"It means no one would ever think you would date someone like me!" you blurted out.

There was a brief silence, Jongseong blinked, his expression unreadable.

"Wow," he said finally, his tone flat. "That's... depressing."

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I'm making this worse, aren't I?"

"Yeah," he said bluntly.

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice small. "Can you... just not kill me, though?"

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. For a moment, he looked like he was considering throwing you out the door, but instead, he leaned back against it, running a hand down his face.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You're going to go out there, tell everyone you lied, and make sure my name is out of their mouths by the end of the day."

Your eyes widened. "I can't do that! If I tell them the truth, I'll look like a total loser! They'll never let me on the squad!"

"Not my problem," he shot back.

"Please!" you pleaded, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Just... let me ride this out a little longer. I'll figure out a way to fix it without dragging your name through the mud, I promise!"

He stared at you for a long moment. He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do whatever you want," he said finally.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Don't make me regret this," he added,

"I'll do anything!" you said quickly, your relief overwhelming your sense of pride.

His eyes flicked back to yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Anything?"

You hesitated. "Uh... within reason?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, pushing off the door and opening it.

"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, panicked.

"Class," he said simply, walking out and leaving you standing there, still clutching your bag like it might protect you from the fallout.

"Oh my God, they just came out of the storage room together!" someone squealed.

Your blood froze as a wave of gasps and murmurs rippled down the hallway.

"No way! They're so freaky!"

"They couldn't even wait until after school? A quickie in the storage room?!"

"That's so wild!"

You bolted out of the storage room, your face burning so hot it was probably visible from space. "It's not what you think!" you stammered, waving your hands frantically. "Nothing happened! I swear!"

But your protests only seemed to make things worse.

"Did you see her face? She's totally guilty!"

"God, no wonder he's so obsessed with her. She's probably insane in bed."

"Wait, so does this mean she's, like, not lying about them being a couple?"

The crowd erupted into a chorus of giggles, whispers, and scandalized gasps, and you felt your soul leave your body.

At the end of the day, you got the news: you were officially part of the cheerleading pep squad.

This wasn't exactly how you pictured it, but hey, you'd finally made it. You thought practice would be all about jumps, flips, and cheers, but instead, it was questions. Endless questions.

All about your "boyfriend."

By the time practice ended, you were convinced the squad cared more about Park Jongseong than they cared about cheerleading. It was exhausting. They made him your whole personality.

Now, you stood outside the music room, foot tapping nervously as you psyched yourself up. You needed to talk to him. Jongseong—Jay—walked out with his guitar slung over his back, his expression colder than a freezer. His eyes landed on you, sharp and annoyed.

"Why are you here?" he asked, as blunt as ever.

You forced an awkward smile. "Hi! Because... you're my boyfriend?"

Jay scoffed, walking past you like you didn't exist. Panicked, you scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping over your own feet.

"H-hey! Wait!" you called, gripping the edge of his jacket. "I'm Y/N! Please, for the second time, just hear me out!"

He stopped, turned, and stared at you with the kind of look that could burn holes in concrete. "What do you want now?"

You fumbled with your bag, your cheeks burning. "I just... I wanted to talk about—"

"Fuck off," he snapped, making you flinch and throw your hands up like you were bracing for impact.

"I'm sorry!" you squeaked, your voice small.

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shifted his weight. For a second, his eyes softened—but not enough to let you relax.

"I already let you use my name. What else do you want from me?" he asked, voice low and sharp.

You bit your lip, tapping your foot nervously. You'd practiced this speech in your head a hundred times, but the words suddenly felt scrambled.

"I just... I got into the cheerleading squad, but they keep asking me questions about you, and—"

His glare deepened. "After you spilled water on me, crashed my guitar, and hit me in the face with a volleyball, what more do you want?"

You gasped, offended. "E-excuse me?! Those were accidents!" you said, emphasizing the word with dramatic hand gestures.

"I didn't spill water on you on purpose! And I didn't crash your guitar—it fell! And your nose? Total accident!"

Jay's expression didn't budge. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."

He turned to leave, but you panicked again, grabbing his arm and walking beside him as fast as your shorter legs could go.

"Please, just help me for a little while longer!" you pleaded.

He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at you, looking like he wanted to throw himself into the nearest trash can. "You got what you wanted. Tell them we broke up or something."

You shook your head frantically. "No, no, no! I know I'm a loser for using your name, but I need to keep this up for a few more months!"

Jay's jaw tightened. "What now?"

"I just... need some information about you," you said, your voice small. "Like, your favorite color, or your hobbies, or—"

He cut you off with a groan. "Just make something up. You're good at that."

"But it sounds fake!" you whined, stomping a little like a frustrated child.

Jay stopped walking and turned to glare at you again. "And the story about the café and me being good in bed doesn't sound fake?"

Your cheeks turned crimson. "I-I didn't say anything about you being good in bed!" you squeaked, waving your hands defensively. "I just said you were good at, uh, aftercare! They're the ones who assumed the rest!"

Jay stared at you, his face unreadable, but the way his lips twitched told you he was this close to laughing.

"So, you want more information about me so you can answer their next stupid questions?" he asked.

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Exactly!"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Like if I'm huge?"

Your brain short-circuited. "N-no!" you squealed, stepping back as your cheeks burned even hotter. "It's not like that!"

Jay smirked, adjusting the strap of his guitar as he stood up straight again. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Good luck with your cheerleading squad, girlfriend."

And with that, he totally walked away, leaving you standing there, red-faced and humiliated. But you weren't about to give up.

No way. You'd come too far and sacrificed too much pride to back down now. If groveling got you this far, then maybe going lower would get you what you needed.

So, you became... everywhere.

After his chemistry class, there you were, waiting outside the door with a bright smile and an awkward wave. "Hi! How was class? Did you learn anything interesting?"

He barely looked at you as he walked past, muttering, "I don't know, did you?"

At his band practice, you somehow sweet-talked your way in. His bandmates, thinking you were his girlfriend, welcomed you with open arms.

"Jay never told us you were so supportive," one of them said, grinning.

"Y-yeah! That's me! Super supportive!" you laughed nervously, while Jay sat in the corner, tuning his guitar, looking like he was plotting your demise.

But you stayed anyway, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him play with stars in your eyes. He was good—like, really good—and for a second, you almost forgot how much he hated you.

After practice, you walked out with him, chatting non-stop about your cheerleading routine. "So then Karina said I should try a - "

Jay, walking ahead of you, sighed heavily. "Do you ever stop talking?"

You froze for half a second before jogging to catch up. "Not really!" you said cheerfully, ignoring the withering glare he shot you.

During break time, you plopped down beside him in the cafeteria, chatting away about your practice. You didn't even realize you were rambling until he looked at you, his expression blank.

"Do you ever run out of words?" he asked, deadpan.

You blinked. "Uh... no?"

He groaned, rubbing his temples.

It wasn't long before your cheer squad started noticing things, too.

During one break, Yunjin leaned over, lazily plucking at her nails. "Your relationship seems so... one-sided," she said casually, enough to make your stomach drop.

"Eh?" you squeaked, your chest tightening with nerves. "W-what do you mean?"

Yunjin shrugged. "We never see you guys together. And when we do, he looks like he's about murdering someone."

You forced a laugh, your hands sweaty. "W-well, he's just... had a lot of bad days lately!"

"Jay's always having bad days when he's with you?" she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"And you two don't even kiss in public," Karina added, leaning her chin on her hand.

Your throat went dry. "Uh, well, he doesn't like PDA," you said quickly.

The two of them exchanged looks but eventually shrugged, letting it go. You let out a quiet breath of relief, only to freeze when Karina clapped her hands.

"Y/N, you said you can do back handsprings, right?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Do you need me to—"

"Great!" Karina stood, surveying the gym with a critical eye. "We need you to cover the entire formation during lifting. Can you do five in a row?"

Your eyes widened. "F-five?"

"Yeah, starting from over there." Karina gestured to the far side of the gym.

You forced a smile and walked to the starting position, nerves rattling in your chest. Everyone's eyes were on you.

You took a deep breath and started your back handsprings, nailing five in a row. When you landed, slightly dizzy, you raised your arms triumphantly.

"Hmm... it doesn't cover the right side," Karina said, tapping her chin. "Y/N, try seven this time."

Your smile faltered. "S-seven?"

They nodded.

You did as they asked, pushing through the dizziness, only to hear them call for more.

By the fourth round, you were practically collapsing mid-air. Ten was far too much, and by the end, your knees hit the floor hard, sending pain shooting up your legs.

"Oh, perfect!" Karina said, clapping her hands. "That covered the whole area. Great job, Y/N! But you need to work on your posture."

You winced, clutching your bruised knee as you shuffled to sit beside the others. The pain was sharp, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced a smile, trying to keep it together.

"I'm kind of craving boba tea," Karina said suddenly, standing up. "Who wants some?"

"Oh, me too!" Giselle chimed in, followed by the rest of the squad eagerly raising their hands.

"Perfect!" Karina said, pulling out a notepad. "Let's make a list."

A moment later, she shoved the list into your hands. "Here. And here's the money. You can go get it for us."

You stared at the list, dumbfounded. "Wait... me?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Y/N!" she said brightly, already turning to talk to Giselle about something else.

You blinked, standing stiffly as pain radiated from your knees. You didn't even have the energy to argue. Instead, you hobbled to the restroom first, tears spilling over as you washed your knees.

Violet bruises were already forming, and the cold water stung as it ran over the tender skin.

This wasn't what you'd imagined when you dreamed of joining the cheer squad.

You thought it would be glamorous—flipping in the air, cheering under bright lights, and finally belonging to something cool.

Instead, here you were, limping to a nearby boba shop with bruised knees and teary eyes.

Still, you told yourself it was okay. You were part of them now. You weren't just a simple girl anymore—you were a cheerleader. Their friend. It was normal to run errands and do things for your friends, right?

So why did it feel so awful?

As you stood in line, you checked the money Karina had handed you earlier, only to realize it was short. Way short.

You panicked for a moment, but what could you do? You had no choice but to pay for the rest out of your own pocket, all while swallowing the lump in your throat.

By the time you were walking back to school, holding a bunch of boba cups in flimsy plastic bags, you were crying. Pathetically.

Tears streaked your face, and your lips wobbled as you sniffled, trying not to let the world see how pitiful you looked.

But it wasn't their fault, you told yourself. They weren't bullying you. You were just having a sensitive day. Your knees hurt from all that back handspring practice, and the money situation had just been bad luck.

That's all.

You furiously wiped at your cheeks, determined to look normal before you made it back to the gym. But then, a voice startled you out of your thoughts.

"What happened to you?"

You nearly dropped the boba.

"Jay!" you yelped, turning to see him standing there with his guitar case slung over his back, his sharp gaze flicking from your tear-streaked face to the plastic bags in your hands—and then to your bruised, purple knees.

"I—uh—hi!" you stammered, forcing an awkward smile.

He didn't return it. "You didn't visit the music room today."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, caught off guard. "I was busy with practice. I completely forgot! I'm sorry!"

He didn't respond, just reached over and took the plastic boba bags from your hands.

You blinked at him, muttering a quiet "thank you" as he carried them down the hallway beside you.

"What happened to you?" he asked again, his tone firmer this time.

You scratched the back of your head, feigning cluelessness. "Uh, what do you mean?"

He gave you a look, and his voice dropped. "Why were you crying? And why do you have bruises all over your knees?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He was staring at you like he could see right through every lie you'd prepared.

"Uh, just... girl stuff!" you blurted, laughing awkwardly. "You know, sensitive day!"

"And your knees?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, that?" You waved a hand as if it were nothing. "They made me practice back handsprings today. I just, uh, had a bad landing. But I'm totally fine! See?" You gave him a shaky thumbs-up, forcing another smile.

Jay didn't look convinced. His gaze flickered back to your knees, then to your face.

"Why? Do you care about me?" you teased, lightly bumping his shoulder with yours.

He rolled his eyes, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Without a word, he gestured toward the gym door.

"You first."

You laughed nervously, pushing the door open and walking inside.

"Oh, Y/N," Karina called out from across the gym. "Coach said we're not allowed to have boba anymore since she's strict about our diet. Did you already buy it?"

Your face fell. "Yes..."

"Oh crap!" Giselle smacked her forehead. "I texted you, but I guess it didn't go through!"

"But the boba? The money?" one of the girls asked, holding out her hand expectantly.

You hesitated, your voice caught in your throat. "I already bought it," you said quietly, glancing nervously at Jay.

Before you could say anything else, he walked past you, heading toward the bleachers. Without a word, he dropped the bags of boba onto the bench—hard. The cups jostled, some of the liquid spilling over the edges.

"J-Jongseong?!" Karina stammered, her confident tone faltering as she gulped nervously.

Jay stood there, his sharp glare slicing through the room. "Are you serious right now?" he said, his voice calm but dangerous.

Karina shifted uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in her throat. "W-we didn't mean for her to actually buy them—"

"Yeah?" he cut her off. "Because it looks like you had her running errands like your personal delivery service."

"Jay, it's not like that!" you blurted, defending them instinctively, though your voice wavered.

The room went silent. None of the girls dared to speak as Jay's gaze swept over them, so sharp.

"Is your practice over or something?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because none of you look like you're doing any cheers anymore."

Giselle quickly nodded, her voice high and nervous. "W-we're on a break!"

Jay's eyes narrowed slightly, making Giselle shrink under his gaze.

Finally, he turned to you, and his expression softened just enough to make your chest feel weird—like relief, or maybe something you couldn't quite place.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.

"H-huh?" you stammered, blinking up at him.

"Let's go," he repeated, already turning away.

Before you could argue, he noticed the way you hesitated, the way you winced with every step. His eyes flicked down to your knees, bruised and swollen, and without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

"W-what are you doing?!" you gasped, your face burning red as you scrambled to hold onto him.

The squad collectively let out a series of audible gasps behind you.

"Oh my God, she's not like, totally lying," Karina whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Jay didn't acknowledge them. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried you out of the gym.

"Jay, I can walk!" you protested weakly, even though your knees were very much not in walking condition.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job of that," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he adjusted his grip on you.

You clung to him in stunned silence, trying to ignore the burning stares from the squad still watching as the door swung shut behind you.

Your heart raced, and whether it was from embarrassment or something else entirely, you didn't want to think about it.

"You're going to stop running around like this," Jay said firmly as he walked. "If they want boba, they can get it themselves."

"But I'm part of the team now," you mumbled, your voice small.

"You're not their errand girl," he shot back, his eyes flicking down to you.

You shut your mouth, letting him carry you to the clinic as the nurse tended to your bruised knees.

He leaned casually against the wall, watching the whole process like he was supervising. Every time you dared to glance his way, he raised an eyebrow, silently daring you to say something stupid. You wisely kept quiet.

The next day at practice, things hadn't gotten much better.

The girls were still bombarding you with questions—except now, Jay had inadvertently raised your popularity to new heights.

"He's sweet but terrifying," one of them whispered, watching you stretch. "Maybe you should get him to smile for once. He's always glaring."

"Yeah, but it's kind of hot," another one added, fanning herself dramatically. "It's like he hates everyone except her."

You snorted at that, almost choking on your own air. If only they knew the truth. But you couldn't even laugh properly because someone tapped your shoulder, pointing toward the gym doors.

"Y/N, look!"

You turned and nearly choked on your own spit. There he was—Jay—walking toward you.

The girls squealed, whispering loudly as they quickly backed away to give you "privacy."

Your stomach flipped as he approached, his dark eyes scanning the gym before locking on you. "What are you doing here?" you whispered, gripping the edge of the bleachers.

He ignored your question, dropping his bag and kneeling in front of you.

"How's your knee?" he asked, his tone softer this time as his eyes flicked to your legs.

"I'm fine! What are you doing here?" you repeated, feeling heat crawl up your neck as the gym filled with the sound of squeals and whispers.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out something.

"I bought you knee pads," he said simply, holding them up.

Your jaw dropped. "What—why?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your leg, his hands warm as he began securing the knee pad in place.

"He's so sweet!" one of the girls whispered loudly.

You tried to ignore the growing crowd of gossipers, your face burning as you stared down at him. "You really didn't have to—"

"Stop moving," he interrupted, his focus entirely on your knee as he adjusted the strap.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "Jay, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I'll watch your routine," he said casually, moving to your other knee.

"What? No!" you exclaimed, flailing slightly. "What do you mean, you'll watch?"

He glanced up at you, a small, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "You watch me practice at the music room. It's only fair I watch yours."

"That's different!" you sputtered, your face heating further.

"How is it different?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because—because I'm not good at this yet!" you said, flustered. "What's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" he said, his voice light with amusement. "I just want to support my girlfriend."

You froze. Your brain short-circuited. Did he just—

"W-what did you just say?" you stammered, your voice cracking.

"Girlfriend," he repeated smoothly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Isn't that what you keep telling everyone I am?"

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The giggles and gasps around you didn't help, either.

"You can't just—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Relax," he said, smirking as he turned to walk away. "Good luck with practice, babe. I'll be watching."

You watched him head toward the bleachers, still reeling from the fact that Park Jongseong, the untouchable cold Jay, just called you his girlfriend in front of everyone.

If you hadn't been blushing before, you were definitely on fire now.

The routine begins with a burst of synchronized cheers, the squad moving in perfect unison. You jump, spin, and dance, throwing in a split and a clean back handspring. When the lifting section comes, you step onto their hands with, you stick the landing, holding your pose as they lower you carefully.

You finish the routine without letting your bruised knees slow you down, your chest heaving as sweat drips down your temples.

The coach claps, giving feedback to the squad, but all you can think about is sitting down and catching your breath.

Unconsciously, you find yourself collapsing onto the bleachers—right next to Jay. He doesn't say anything, just pulls a water bottle and towel out of his bag, as if he'd been expecting you to need them.

"Here," he mutters, handing them over.

"Thanks," you say, too exhausted to overthink it. You take a long sip of water before draping the towel over your shoulders.

"How's the performance?" you ask him, still catching your breath.

"You're good," he replies simply.

You pause, blinking at him. "No, like... us. The cheering squad. How did we look?"

Jay shrugs, leaning back slightly on the bleachers, his gaze fixed ahead. "I don't know," he says, his tone casual. "I only had my eyes on you."

The water bottle in your hand almost slips from your grasp.

"W-what?" you stammer, turning to look at him.

He doesn't meet your gaze, his expression cool and indifferent, but there's a small twitch at the corner of his lips. "You heard me," he says, his voice even.

Your face heats up, and you're not sure if it's from the workout or his words. Before you can respond, one of your squadmates calls your name, pulling you back to reality.

"I—uh, thanks," you mumble, scrambling to stand.

"Don't fall," Jay says, glancing at your knees briefly before leaning back and pulling out his phone, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.

Your heart races as you jog back to the squad, Jay's words replaying in your mind. "I only had my eyes on you."

What was that supposed to mean?

Over the following weeks, something shifted. Jay did seem to like you—no, that would be too strong—but he definitely didn't hate you anymore. If anything, it felt like he had resigned himself to your presence.

Your schedules matched perfectly: you'd stop by the music room before your cheer practice, watching him play with quiet awe. After his practice ended, you'd walk together to the gym, where he'd drop you off with a gruff nod.

And during those walks, you talked. A lot.

Jay didn't interrupt or roll his eyes at your endless stream of words, but he didn't say much either. He'd let you ramble about random things—your favorite stories, songs, foods, or some obscure fact you'd read online.

One day, while rifling through your bag in frustration, you whined, "Crap, I always forget to bring an extra shirt!"

Jay didn't respond, just kept walking. You assumed he wasn't even listening.

But the next day, when you showed up for your routine walk to the gym, he handed you a neatly folded shirt.

"Here," he said, his tone flat, as though it wasn't a big deal.

You blinked, staring at it. "Wait, is this for me?"

"No, it's for the bench," he replied dryly. Then, seeing your expression, added, "You said you forget yours. Just take it."

Your heart skipped as you took the shirt, muttering a soft "thank you."

On another day, after practice, you grinned at him. "I really want a spicy ramen—like, with crab sticks and shrimp! Let's go get some!"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a one-way ticket to high blood pressure," he deadpanned.

You pouted, whining dramatically. "Come on, Jay!"

Yet not long after, you found yourselves seated at a small ramen shop. You happily slurped your noodles, your feet swinging slightly under the table. Jay glanced down at your feet before looking up at you, finding you smiling as you focused on your bowl.

"What?" you asked, catching his gaze.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his own noodles.

Spending time with Jay made you lose your guard in the best way.

You weren't as self-conscious anymore, and little things just felt... natural. Like the time you were walking together, mid-laugh, and he suddenly pulled your arm to stop you.

"Look both ways," he mumbled, his hand lingering on your arm as you gripped it instinctively.

You giggled, wrapping your hand around his. "Okay, Dad."

He didn't respond, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.

Another habit of his? Waiting for you after practice, leaning against his motorcycle with his usual nonchalant expression. He'd nod for you to hop on, offering you his spare helmet.

It felt normal now—holding onto him as he drove, the wind whipping around you as the city lights blurred by.

Sometimes, Jay and you didn't even talk. Like when you'd share a cup of ice cream on a bench after practice, the two of you just staring at nothing. He'd sit beside you, watching as you bit down on your spoon absentmindedly.

"You look dumb," he'd say eventually, breaking the silence.

You'd laugh and stick your tongue out at him. "Thanks, Jay. Love the confidence boost."

Jay's attention to small things surprised you most when it came to your ketchup obsession.

It started when you were both sitting at your usual fast-food joint—a chain with a bright red logo and the smell of fries and fried chicken wafting through the air.

You'd always order the same thing: chicken nuggets and fries. But what made you stand out (to Jay, at least) was how you hoarded ketchup packets.

You never even used them at the restaurant. Instead, you'd stuff them into your bag, mumbling something about "saving them for later." Jay didn't ask at first, but the mystery was solved when he saw you in their practice one day, pulling out one of those packets.

You ripped it open quietly, then tipped the packet to your mouth and slurped the ketchup straight out of it.

A week later, during a break, Jay casually handed you a small stack of ketchup packets.

"Where did you get these?" you squealed, your eyes sparkling as you grabbed them from his hand.

"My bandmates ordered fries," he said with a shrug. "They don't like ketchup, so I took them."

You stared at him, your heart doing an annoying little flip. "Jay, you get me," you said dramatically, clutching the packets to your chest like they were a bouquet of roses.

"Don't make this weird," he muttered, already turning away.

You ripped one open immediately, slurping the sweet and tangy ketchup with a grin. "Thanks, Jay!"

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched again—his almost-smile.

Then there was the time in the cafeteria when he handed you a tissue.

You stared at him, confused. "What's this for?"

"Your lip gloss," he said simply, his tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked, dumbfounded, as heat rose to your cheeks. How did he even notice that you always wiped off your lip gloss before eating?

You muttered a shy "thanks," taking the tissue as your heart thumped in your chest.

And then there were even smaller things.

Like how he bent down to tie your shoelaces without a word when they came undone during your walk.

Or how he fixed your hair once, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a quick, almost annoyed motion.

Or how he straightened your uniform when it got wrinkled after a particularly rough practice, muttering something about how you looked like "a mess."

They weren't grand gestures. Jay wasn't the type for big declarations or sweeping acts of romance. But it was always the small things that left you breathless—the way he noticed you, the way he cared without saying much.

And maybe, just maybe, the cold, untouchable guitarist didn't hate you as much as he let on.

"That's Park Jongseong's girlfriend!"

"Park Jongseong's girl is so pretty!"

"I didn't know Park Jongseong's girlfriend is so good at dancing!"

But honestly? You weren't sure how to feel about it anymore.

People didn't want to know you. They wanted to know him. Even when someone started a conversation with you, it always led back to Jay.

"How did you two meet?"

"What does he do when he's bored?"

"Does he even smile around you?"

You started noticing how Jay wasn't immune, either. People would corner him in the halls, asking invasive questions about your "relationship," and he'd glare at them in that trademark way of his until they got the hint and left. He never complained, never said anything about it to you, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched tighter these days.

You weren't cool. You weren't special.

You were just someone who had made a stupid, selfish decision to drag his name into your mess. And now? You weren't sure if you could keep it up any longer.

It was a quiet afternoon in the music room. Jay sat across from you, strumming his guitar in the golden light of sunset. Normally, this was when you'd ramble on about whatever random topic popped into your head, but today, the words felt too heavy to come out.

Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them as you stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry if I always bother you," you said suddenly, your voice barely audible.

Jay's fingers stilled on the strings, his head tilting slightly as he glanced at you.

"I... I really don't have any friends," you admitted, resting your chin on your knees. "I think I'm too crazy for the good girls in my class, too dumb for the nerds, and way too soft for the mean girls."

He didn't say anything, but you felt his eyes on you.

"But, you know," you continued, your voice shaky, "you're the first person who's ever... tolerated me. And I really appreciate that."

You laughed weakly, even though it wasn't funny. "Thank you, Park Jongseong, for listening to me go on and on about dystopian movies. For putting up with me when I get loud and excited. For not judging my weird ketchup obsession."

Jay leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, as you let out a long sigh.

"I thought dragging your name into the cheer squad thing would make me feel like I belonged somewhere," you said, your voice breaking. "But it hasn't. If anything, it's just made me feel worse. Like I'm not enough for them. Like I'll never be enough."

Your chest tightened as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "And... I feel like I've dumped all these responsibilities on you because of one stupid little lie I told. It's not fair to you."

Jay stayed silent, but you could feel his presence, heavy and quiet.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I think... I think it's time we break up."

Jay's hands froze on the guitar, his entire body going still. His gaze sharpened.

"Break up?" he repeated, his tone even but taut, like he was holding something back.

You nodded, your throat closing up. "Yeah. I've caused you enough trouble already. I think... I think it's better if we just end it. It'll be easier for you."

Jay's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of the guitar as he stared at you. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with something you couldn't place.

Your chest felt like it was caving in. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to say what you really wanted to say. So instead, you nodded.

"Yes," you whispered, barely audible.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You expected him to agree, to maybe sigh in relief or tell you that you were right. But instead, he just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice low. "Alright."

Your heart sank at the word, even though it was what you'd asked for. You forced yourself to stand, forcing a shaky "thank you" past your lips as you made your way toward the door.

But just as you reached it, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"But you should know," he said, "that if you think you're not enough, you're wrong."

You froze, your breath hitching. Slowly, you turned to face him.

He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze was fixed on his guitar, his fingers idly plucking at the strings, but there was a softness in his voice that you weren't used to.

"You don't have to try so hard to fit into their world," he said quietly. "You already stand out. You don't see it, but you do."

Your throat tightened as tears pricked at your eyes. "Jay..."

He looked up at you then, his dark eyes piercing but calm. "If you want to end it, I'll let you go," he said, his voice steady. "But don't do it because you think you're causing me trouble. That's just you overthinking, as usual."

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, and for a moment, you thought about staying. 

But the weight of your emotions felt too heavy, and you bolted, muttering a weak "thanks" as you ran out of the room, tears already spilling down your cheeks.

You didn't look back, but as you closed the door behind you, you swore you heard the faint sound of his guitar strings—soft, steady, and full of something you didn't quite understand.

By the time you reached the bathroom, you were a mess.

You locked yourself in a stall and let it all out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried—and failed—to convince yourself this was what you wanted.

"It's not even real," you muttered, your voice cracking. "We're not a thing. We were never a thing. Why am I crying like an idiot?"

But no amount of reasoning stopped the ugly sobs from wracking your chest. You clutched some toilet paper, blowing your nose dramatically and telling yourself to get it together.

When you showed up to practice later, your eyes were swollen and red, your nose a little too pink to hide what had happened.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Karina asked, looking concerned.

You forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine! Totally fine! Oh, by the way..." You paused, sniffling slightly. "Jay and I broke up."

The words felt like ripping off a Band-Aid, but you didn't have time to process them before the room erupted.

"What?!" Giselle gasped, clutching her water bottle.

"No way!" Yunjin exclaimed, already pulling out her phone.

Within hours, the news spread across the school faster than you thought possible. Everywhere you went, you could hear whispers and murmurs about the "breakup."

And Park Jongseong?

He was still Park Jongseong.

You spotted him in the hallway, his face set in stone, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp as ever.

He walked like he was on his way to commit murder, every step filled with tension. People gave him a wide berth, whispering things like, "He's even scarier than usual," and, "God, she must've really broken his heart."

But when your eyes met his for a split second, he looked away, his expression you can't read.

Your chest ached painfully every time you passed him. And when you were finally alone at night, you curled up in bed and cried yourself to sleep, the pain in your chest refusing to fade.

By the time your classmates dragged you to karaoke, you were on emotional autopilot. You didn't want to be there, but they'd insisted.

"It'll help you get over him!" Sunoo had said, practically shoving you into the room.

It wasn't helping. At all.

Sunoo grabbed the mic, singing passionately as the lyrics flashed across the screen. "That's why I don't understand... why I'm feeling so bad now, when I know it was my idea."

You froze, staring at the lyrics like they'd personally attacked you. Your lips twitched, but you refused to let the tears fall.

Ni-ki leaned forward, grabbing the mic dramatically. "I could've just denied the truth and lied... why am I the only one, standing, stranded on the same ground?!"

You let out a choked laugh, trying to brush off your growing emotions, but then Sunoo turned to you with wide, knowing eyes. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!"

"Shut up," you muttered, pulling your cardigan over your face to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

The room erupted as Ni-ki wrestled the mic away from Sunoo. "My love, it's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue." Ni-ki sang into the microphone.

You couldn't help it—the tears started spilling as you wiped them furiously with your sleeve, hoping no one would notice.

"It's hard leaving you that way... when I never wanted to!"

Your classmates were belting out the lyrics, screaming into the mic with way too much passion. And somehow, the chaos made it worse.

"Self-denial is a game!" Ni-ki shouted, practically falling to his knees. "It's strange, I never would've wanted it until there was you!"

You sniffled, wiping your cheeks again, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"Y/N, are you crying?!" Sunoo gasped dramatically, leaning closer, his voice high-pitched enough to rival a whistle.

"No!" you wailed, burying your face deeper into your cardigan. "It's just—the lyrics are so stupid!"

Jungwon, ever the responsible one, grabbed the remote and immediately switched the song. "Okay, we need a vibe shift. No more heartbreak songs."

The opening beat of Apple Bottom Jeans blasted through the room, and everyone burst into cheers and laughter.

You couldn't help but laugh, sniffing back the last of your tears as Ni-ki grabbed the mic and jumped onto the couch.

You felt a little lighter. Sure, your heart was still aching, but at least now, you now had friends who made it a little easier to breathe.

The next day, you were required to attend the university baseball game. Every student was, but as part of the cheerleading pep squad, you had absolutely no excuse to skip.

The stadium was packed with thousands of students from your university and the rival school, the energy buzzing in the air. You tugged at the hem of your uniform skirt, your face burning with embarrassment. "Is it really this short?!" you whined, glaring at Giselle.

She shushed you with a wave of her pom-poms. "Relax. It's normal!"

"You don't have to be awkward about it," Karina added, flipping her hair. "Your legs look great!"

Your coach, however, was far less delicate. "We're making it look longer because your legs are short," she said bluntly, not even looking up from her clipboard.

You gasped, utterly dumbfounded. "I—should I be offended, or...?"

The coach just shrugged, moving on with her notes.

Before the game officially began, your squad performed a short routine to hype up the crowd. The music blared through the speakers as you stepped forward, executing a clean front handspring. The crowd roared with approval, but your face burned as your skirt rode up mid-flip.

When the routine ended, you cringed, tugging your skirt back down as you returned to your seat at the front. You waved your pom-poms enthusiastically, shouting the university yell every time your team scored, even if you were still mortified from earlier.

When the game finally ended and the crowd began to thin out, you found yourself standing near the bleachers, clutching your pom-poms and phone. The cheer squad was preparing to take pictures, but you hung back for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

That's when someone approached you.

"Hi," a voice said, warm and slightly out of breath.

You turned to see a guy standing in front of you, wearing his baseball uniform. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the game, and his smile was boyish and shy.

"I'm Heeseung," he introduced himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to say your routine was really cool. And, uh... I was wondering if I could get your number?"

You blinked, your brain stalling. Wait, what?

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the field.

"Y/N! Hurry up!" Sunoo waved his arms dramatically, yelling over the crowd. "We're taking pictures!"

Your face turned even redder as you looked between Heeseung and Sunoo. Panicking, you muttered a quick, "Sorry, I've gotta go!" before rushing off toward your squad, clutching your pom-poms.

By the time you reached your squad, you were out of breath and flustered, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

You grabbed your bag, rummaging through it in search of a shirt to change into. The crowd had mostly cleared out, and the stadium lights were dimming, but you were too busy muttering to yourself to notice.

Of course, you didn't have a spare shirt. Why would you?

You sighed heavily, dropping your pom-poms into the bag and staring at the empty space inside. Without thinking, you mumbled, "I miss Jay."

The words hung in the air, surprising even you. You froze for a second, realizing what you'd just said out loud.

It had been months since you'd ended things—or whatever it was you'd had—with Jay. And somehow, instead of feeling lighter, you felt worse.

The more you saw him in passing, the more you missed him. The more you craved him. The ache in your chest refused to fade, no matter how much time passed.

Sometimes, you still cried yourself to sleep, clutching your pillow as memories of him flooded your mind.

You hated how much you missed him.

And then there were moments when your body moved on its own, as if drawn to him.

You'd find yourself standing outside the music room, staring at the door like you were waiting for something—or someone—to pull you inside.

But you never went in. You just stood there, your heart heavy, before walking away again.

Or you'd sit at your favorite bench, the one where you used to share ice cream with him after practice. You'd sit there alone, biting the spoon absentmindedly and staring at nothing, replaying old conversations in your head.

It was during one of those quiet moments, as you sat with a half-melted scoop of vanilla in your hand, that the truth finally hit you.

You liked Jay.

No, you more than liked him. You missed him so much it hurt. And the worst part? You had no idea if he missed you, too.

You bit down harder on your spoon, frustration bubbling in your chest.

Why had you been so stupid? Why had you pushed him away when, deep down, he'd been the only one who ever made you feel seen?

Maybe you were too late. Maybe you'd ruined whatever connection you had with him.

But one thought kept circling in your mind, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

What if you weren't too late?

"Do you party?" Sunoo asked casually, flopping onto your bed like it was his own.

You raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your skepticism. "Not really. I mean, I've been to a few, but it's not my thing. Why?"

"Let's go to a party this weekend! You know Sunghoon, right? The baseball player? He's hosting!"

You laughed, waving him off. "I'll think about it, but probably not."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but you brushed him off, fully intending to stay home.

But when the weekend came, your plans to stay curled up in bed went out the window.

Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki just barged into your house.

"Why aren't you dressed?!" Sunoo exclaimed, throwing open your closet as Jungwon inspected your makeup drawer.

"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, clutching a pillow like it was a weapon.

"You are going to this party," Ni-ki said, arms crossed like he was your older brother instead of one year younger. "Get ready. Now."

With no way out, you reluctantly threw on a simple crop top and shorts, tying your hair into a ponytail and doing clean, light makeup.

When you arrived at the party, the atmosphere immediately overwhelmed you. The music was loud enough to shake the walls, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something smoky lingering in the air.

You stuck close to Sunoo as he handed you a red cup with some drink you didn't recognize.

"Just take a sip!" he shouted over the music.

"Excuse me for a second," you said, escaping to the balcony.

The moment you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, the fresh air calming your nerves. The cool night breeze felt like a blessing after the suffocating heat inside.

But then, you stiffened.

Sitting in one of the chairs was someone you hadn't expected to see—someone you hadn't seen up close in months.

Jay.

He sat with one foot tapping rhythmically against the ground, a vape in his hand. The dim light from the balcony highlighted his sharp jawline, his pointed nose, and the effortless way his hair slicked back. He wore a simple white shirt under a blue Nike jacket, but somehow, he looked stunning.

Your chest tightened painfully as his head turned, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," you said awkwardly, frozen in place.

He stared at you for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag from his vape.

Without knowing why, you found yourself walking over to him and sitting quietly beside him, your gaze fixed on the stars above.

"I didn't know you actually smoked," you said softly, breaking the silence.

He hummed, his head tilting slightly as he exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction, making a point to avoid letting any of it near you.

"I don't. Not usually. I don't smoke at school."

He shifted in his seat, sliding the vape into his pocket and straightening his posture.

"Why'd you stop just now?" you asked, glancing at him.

He didn't hesitate. "Your nose is sensitive to strong smells."

Your breath caught, his simple answer hitting you harder than you expected. That was Jay—always quiet, always watching, always knowing without making a big deal of it.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable.

"I'm sorry," the words came out from your mouth.

Jay's gaze snapped to yours, his expression neutral.

"For what?" he asked evenly.

"For just leaving," you said, your voice shaky. "For everything you've done for me, and then me just... walking away. I didn't know what I was feeling back then. I was hurt and scared because... you're you, and I'm just me. I'm not good enough for you—"

Jay didn't respond immediately. His gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "And what are you feeling now?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I... I miss you, Jay," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss everything about you. The small things, the way you cared, even if you acted like you didn't. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for being stupid."

Jay looked at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.

"You're really stupid, aren't you?" he said, his voice calm but laced with a faint humor that made your heart ache.

You managed a weak laugh, wiping at the corner of your eye. "Yeah, I am."

Jay exhaled slowly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

"I thought you'd like me and never break it off because that's what happens in those books you always talk about, right?" he said, his voice softening. "But somehow, I fell harder than I ever expected."

Your breath hitched as he let out a quiet laugh—so rare, so warm, it made your chest ache. He finally looked at you, his eyes glinting with something vulnerable.

"I've always waited for you," he admitted, his voice low. "Waited for you to stop standing outside the music room and just walk in. But you never did."

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face.

"I saw you," he continued. "Every time you sat on that bench, on our place... I saw you at a distance, sitting there, staring at nothing. And I waited. I always waited for your eyes to look at me the way I was looking at you."

Tears began to swell in your eyes as you took in his words.

Jay leaned closer, his movements gentle.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For being such a coward. For not walking up to you when I wanted to. I told myself I'd wait, but waiting just hurt more because all I could do was think about you. About us."

He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his hand warm and grounding. "I'm hurting. I've been hurting since you left. Do you feel the same way?"

The tears spilled over, warm and slow, streaking down your cheeks. You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch as you nodded. "I do, Jay. I've been hurting, too."

He watched you closely, his eyes softening as you smiled at him through your tears.

"You're crying," he murmured, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb.

"Yeah, well, that's your fault," you whispered, laughing through the tears.

Jay shook his head, his lips tugging into the faintest smile. "You're impossible," he muttered, his voice affectionate.

"And you're annoying," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.

But neither of you moved away.

The balcony felt smaller, quieter, as Jay's hand lingered on your cheek. His gaze flickered to your lips for a brief second, and your heart jumped, but he didn't move, waiting instead for you to close the gap.

So you did.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. His lips were warm and hesitant at first, but then he shifted, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you back.

His hand slid into your hair, his fingers brushing lightly against your scalp as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, your lips moving in perfect sync.

When you pulled back just slightly to catch your breath, his forehead rested against yours, and his lips hovered mere inches away.

His voice was low, and soft as he whispered against your lips, "Don't ever think of yourself like that. You're more than enough."

His words struck you deep, and your eyes fluttered open to meet his. "But... you're you, and I'm just me," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jay didn't let you finish. His lips captured yours again, silencing your insecurities. When he pulled back, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it made your breath hitch.

"I like you for being you," he said simply.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with emotion. "But you're like a big star," you said, holding up your fingers to make the shape of a small star, "and I'm just... a little star."

Jay's lips curved into the softest smile before he leaned forward again, kissing you gently.

His voice was tender when he murmured against your lips, "A little star that shines brightest in my eyes."

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn't help but let out a flustered laugh, lightly hitting his chest. "How come you always know how to get my heart?!"

Jay chuckled, kissing your forehead as he hugs you.

Jay just wanted to play guitar. That was all. He didn't ask for the reputation, the attention, or the corny nickname the school had slapped on him—the "cold, untouchable hot guitarist." God, how he hated that.

Every day felt the same: girls cornering him in the halls, asking for his number or accidentally brushing their hands against his arms or guitar case. His eyes would glare like knives as he gritted out, "Don't touch me."

He hated it—the fake admiration, the empty attention. Everyone seemed to care about him for all the wrong reasons. And when they annoyed him too much?

"Fuck off," he'd mutter, his tone so cold it practically froze people in their tracks.

But you? You were different.

Jay remembered the school festival three years ago. He'd been sitting in Jake's booth, tuning his guitar lazily while Jake served spicy noodles to an occasional brave (or dumb) soul willing to risk their stomach for the thrill.

It was supposed to be a chill afternoon, but then you showed up.

You were the only person who kept coming back to Jake's booth. Every hour.

"I swear, you're going to burn a hole in your stomach," Jake had told you, half-laughing as he handed you yet another bowl of his stupidly spicy noodles.

"Totally worth it," you'd chirped, your voice high-pitched and cheerful. "Do you have a permanent shop? I'd eat there every day!"

Jay had glanced up from his guitar, staring at you through the slits of the tent. You were completely oblivious to his presence, happily slurping noodles as Jake made small talk with you.

Later, Jake stormed into the tent, tossing his apron onto the chair. "We're sold out," he'd announced. "And it's her fault."

Jay had raised an eyebrow. "Her?"

Jake pointed outside. "The spicy noodle girl. She's been coming back all day. We sold out because of her."

Jay hadn't said anything, but his lips had twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming before he went back to tuning his guitar.

Jay hated everyone. He hated how they tugged at him, how they fawned over him for no reason. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

He remembered the little things—moments that no one else seemed to notice.

Like the time you walked down the hallway with that cute little bag, the kind of bag that didn't really suit a high schooler but looked perfect on you.

It had a figurine hanging from it, neatly wrapped in a plastic pouch, and you carried it like it was your most prized possession.

Then, just days later, he'd found you outside the lost and found office, whining and crying. You'd lost the figurine, and you'd spent an entire lunch period pacing back and forth in front of the office, waiting for someone to turn it in.

Or the time he saw you clapping and cheering during a cheerleading pep squad performance, smiling so brightly that it felt contagious. You weren't even part of the squad back then, just a spectator, but you looked so genuinely happy that even he couldn't look away.

Then there was your PathFit (PE) class. Jay hadn't meant to stop by, but he'd found himself standing near the open door, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, as his eyes drifted toward you. You were on the floor, legs stretched into a perfect split, your forehead pressed to the ground as you stretched.

Jay once again noticed you searching frantically for a notebook you'd dropped in the hallway. You were crouched on the floor, mumbling to yourself, "This is why I can't have nice things."

He'd spotted the notebook a few feet away, picked it up, and placed it on the bench beside him.

When you found it moments later, you gasped, "Oh my God, it's a miracle!"

You always said you were just a simple girl. That no one really noticed you or cared about someone like you.

But in Jay's eyes, you were the opposite of invisible.

And every time he thought about you, he realized the same thing.

You stood out more than anyone else ever could.

When you'd spilled water all over his face.

His first reaction wasn't anger or annoyance, but something that surprised even him—he noticed how beautiful you looked up close.

Your wide eyes stared at him in shock, your pouty lips forming a small gasp as you muttered incoherent apologies. The faint, sweet floral scent of your perfume hit him, and for a second, he forgot the cold water dripping down his face.

Jay closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to take in more of that intoxicating scent, grounding himself. But before he could say anything, you bolted, muttering a quick "Sorry!" as you sprinted down the hallway.

He almost laughed when you tripped on your knees, scrambling awkwardly to escape. He stood there for a moment, wiping the water off his face with his sleeve.

The second interaction was you crashing out his guitar. He almost didn't notice his guitar on the floor because his eyes were locked on you.

Slowly, you raised two fingers in a peace sign, your expression a mix of guilt and panic.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered before immediately backing out of the room.

Jay stood there, staring at the empty doorway, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even laugh, but the sound never left his throat. You were gone before he could even start a conversation.

And then there was the volleyball incident.

Jay didn't even see the ball coming. One second he was walking into the gym with his friends, and the next, a sharp pain hit him square on the nose.

"Shit," he hissed, dropping to the ground and clutching his face.

When he opened his eyes, you were hovering over him, your face inches from his. Your hair framed your face like a curtain, and there it was again—that scent. Sweet, light, floral.

He blinked up at you, stunned into silence. For a split second, he forgot about the pain, about the blood dripping from his nose. He was too focused on you—your soft features, your panicked expression, the way your lips trembled as you tried to form words.

Before he could open his mouth to tell you he was fine, the blood started pouring out of his nose.

"Crap!" you yelped, standing up quickly, flailing in panic. "I—I'll get help! I'm so sorry!"

And then you ran. Again.

Jay lay there, groaning as Jake handed him a tissue, snickering the entire time.

"Shut up," Jay muttered, even though Jake don't even say anything.

The breaking point came when Jay heard about the rumor that he was in a relationship.

He was furious. Annoyed didn't even begin to describe it. He hated how his name was constantly dragged into things, but this? A fake relationship? With some girl he didn't even know?

Storming through the hallways, he cornered one of the guys he'd overheard spreading the rumor. Grabbing the boy by the collar, he slammed him against the lockers.

"Tell me who started it," Jay demanded, his voice low and sharp. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes boring into the boy's.

"I-I don't know! I swear!" the boy stammered, flinching under Jay's glare. "They said it was some girl—Y/N! Y/N told the cheerleaders about it!"

At the mention of your name, Jay froze. His grip loosened slightly.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it. Of all people, it was you.

Releasing the boy with a shove, Jay stepped back, his emotions in a whirlwind. He should've been angrier—should've been ready to confront you and demand answers. But instead, he found himself... curious.

He should've been irritated. He should've hated you for dragging his name into a mess.

But somehow, he didn't.

Instead, he felt something he couldn't quite place. And he wasn't sure what annoyed him more—the rumor itself or the fact that the thought of being tied to you didn't bother him as much as it should have.

“Oh my God, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Did they just come back together?!”

Whispers followed the two of you as you walked hand in hand down the hallway. 

Jay’s tall frame dressed in his usual all-black outfit. His guitar case was slung over his back, the strap resting effortlessly against his shoulder, and his hand held yours with an ease that made your heart race.

Every head turned to look at you. It wasn’t just the sight of Jay—cold, untouchable, and intimidating—but the sight of him with you, a cheerful and bubbly cheerleader.

You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice as you whispered, “Do you think a guitarist and a cheerleader is a weird combination?”

Jay glanced down at you, one eyebrow raised, his expression softening. “No,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady. “You and me? We’re a perfect combination.”

You let out a laugh, lightly bumping your shoulder against his arm. “God, you’re so cheesy.”

He smirked faintly but didn’t respond, the corners of his lips tugging upward in amusement.

Park Jongseong as a fake boyfriend was good.

But Park Jongseong as a real boyfriend? He was so much better.

You used to think of him as just the guy with the sharp jawline, the deadpan expression, and those sharp, eagle-like eyes that seemed to shoot lasers at anyone who got too close. He was the “fuck off” and “shut up” guy, the untouchable guitarist who kept everyone at arm’s length.

But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, you realized how wrong you’d been.

Jay wasn’t just sweet—he was unbelievably sweet.

You remembered all the little lies you’d told about him when you were trying to fit in with the cheer squad.

“He’s so sweet,” you’d said back then, fabricating stories about how he’d treat you like a princess.

But now? Those stories felt laughable because the reality of being with Jay was so much better.

When you were tired, he’d carry your bag without a word.

“Let me take it,” he’d say simply, slipping the strap off your shoulder.

He opened doors for you—every single time. If you walked through a doorway together, you didn’t even have to reach for the handle because Jay would already be holding it open, waiting patiently for you to step through.

Once, when you were getting into a car, you’d bumped your head against the roof. From that moment on, Jay always, always put a hand over your head to make sure it didn’t happen again.

“Careful,” he’d murmur, voice low but gentle.

You’d joked about him cooking for you once, completely unaware of how true it would become.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jay had brought you to his house. “You’re tired,” he’d said. “Let me make you something.”

You hadn’t expected much—maybe instant ramen or a sandwich at most. But then you’d watched, wide-eyed, as he moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, chopping vegetables, seasoning meat, and sautéing everything.

“Do you cook often?” you’d asked, leaning against the counter as the delicious aroma filled the room.

“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing at you briefly. “Jake says my food is too good for him, though.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. Jay, the sharp-tongued guitarist, was making you a home-cooked meal. And it wasn’t just good—it was amazing. 

Then there were the kisses.

You’d made up a story once, saying, “He kisses me goodbye every morning.” You thought it was the perfect romantic lie to impress the cheerleaders.

But now? Jay had made it a reality.

Every morning before he left for his own class, he’d touch your cheek lightly, his fingers brushing against your skin.

Then, he’d lean in, his lips meeting yours in the gentlest, softest kiss.

“See you later,” he’d say, before turning and walking away.

Each time, your heart would flutter uncontrollably, your fingers brushing against your lips as you watched him go. 

"Aftercare after sex"

Except now, the real thing had turned out to be even better.

“Jay!” you whined, your hand gripping his hair as your hips moved uncontrollably against his mouth.

His tongue worked magic against your clit, circling and sucking gently while his long fingers moved inside you. His fingers curled just right, hitting your sweet spot effortlessly, and you gasped, your jaw going slack from the overwhelming sensation.

Your stomach tightened as the heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt yourself getting closer with each passing second.

Jay let out a low hum, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His free hand moved up to intertwine with yours, grounding you even as you felt like you might fall apart.

“Feel so good,” you sobbed, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. “Don’t want to stop.”

Jay pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening as he murmured, “Are you close, baby?”

You nodded frantically, your breathing erratic.

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him, your tongue meeting his as the kiss grew messy and desperate. His fingers didn’t slow for a second, pumping relentlessly inside you as you gasped against his mouth.

When you broke the kiss, your eyes were teary, your chest heaving. Jay looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his own breathing labored as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he moved back down between your legs. Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit again, sucking hard.

Your body jolted, your hands clutching at the sheets as you screamed his name. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum—”

Jay hummed in approval, his tongue working in perfect sync with his fingers, coaxing you to the edge. His free hand squeezed yours gently, the small gesture making your heart flutter even as your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face.

“I love you,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I love you, I love you—”

Your back arched as the tension inside you snapped, and your vision blurred with stars. You cried out, your body shaking as you came, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.

Jay stayed with you through it all, his tongue and fingers slowing to help you ride out the waves. When you finally slumped back against the bed, exhausted and trembling, he moved up beside you, brushing the hair from your face.

He kissed you softly, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips as he fixed your shirt and wiped you down with gentle care.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, soothing. “You did so good.”

Jay was definitely good at aftercare.

“Is it true that Park Jongseong is… like, huge in bed?”

You flushed instantly, your thoughts flashing to the one time you’d seen him fully exposed, when he’d let you take him in your hand.

Yeah, he was definitely huge.

"Did he really let you touch his guitar?"

You stared down at the sleek Stratocaster electric guitar now resting gently in your lap. Jay handed you a white marker, his eyes soft as he watched your expression shift from confusion to awe.

Your fingers lightly brushed over the strings and the smooth, glossy surface of the guitar’s body. “What’s this for?” you asked, holding up the white marker he had placed in your hand.

“I need you to sign your name on my guitar,” he said casually.

Your eyes widened as you looked between the guitar and Jay, who was now sitting beside you. “W-wait,” you stammered, your voice rising slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it—”

“Baby,” he interrupted, “you’re not ruining it.” He leaned closer, gently pointing at a spot near the edge of the guitar’s body. “Right there. That’s where I want it. Sign it for me, hmm?”

You swallowed hard, this wasn’t just any guitar—it was his guitar. The one he cherished.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding as you carefully uncapped the marker.

You hovered the pen above the guitar for a moment, practicing your signature in the air as your nerves fluttered.

Jay chuckled softly beside you, his voice warm. “You’re acting like you’re signing a million-dollar contract.”

“This is more serious than that,” you shot back, your lips curving into a nervous smile.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed the tip of the marker to the glossy surface, your hand moving carefully as you signed your name. The white ink glided smoothly across the black body, and when you pulled the marker away, you stared at the result with wide eyes.

“Perfect,” Jay murmured.

You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze lingered on the guitar. His usual sharp, stoic expression was replaced with something softer, his eyes shining as he traced your signature with his finger.

He looked up at you, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of warmth. Then, leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

Your cheeks burned as you gripped the marker tightly, unsure of what to say.

Jay pulled back slightly, his smile still in place. “Now it’s perfect,” he said simply, taking the guitar from your lap and standing up.

You watched as he adjusted the strap and slung it over his shoulder. His fingers moved instinctively to the strings, testing a few chords, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering to your signature.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice casual, but you could hear the pride beneath it.

“It does,” you said softly, your chest feeling warm and full.

It was the school festival again, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. Still wearing your cheerleading uniform from your earlier routine, you tugged at your cousin’s arm, practically dragging her through the bustling crowd. The stadium was alive with energy—students cheering, music blasting from nearby booths, and the smell of snacks wafting through the air.

“Come on, we’re going to miss it!” you squealed, your ponytail bouncing as you hurried forward, your pom-poms tucked under your arm.

Your cousin groaned dramatically, trailing behind you. “You’ve been talking about this all day. Who are we even going to see?”

“My boyfriend!” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “My boyfriend's in a band!”

“Boyfriend?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

You turned to her with a mock gasp, clutching your chest like she’d insulted you. “Excuse you. I’ve had one for months now.”

Your cousin raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, then. Let’s see this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”

The two of you found seats near the front, and you craned your neck, scanning the stage as the band members set up. The noise of the crowd grew louder, students and visitors alike cheering as the festival program officially began.

And then he appeared.

Jay stepped onto the stage, standing out against the bright festival decorations. The strap of his guitar rested comfortably on his shoulder, the instrument gleaming under the stage lights—and there it was, your signature on its glossy surface.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest, a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you clapped your hands together in excitement.

“Okay, but which one is your boyfriend?” your cousin asked, squinting at the stage as if trying to piece it together.

You didn’t even hesitate. Pointing toward Jay, you said proudly, “The guitarist. His name is Park Jongseong. That’s my boyfriend.”

Your attention was locked on Jay as he adjusted his guitar strap and tested a few chords. His sharp, eagle-like eyes scanned the crowd, his usual stoic expression giving him an air of effortless cool. But then, something changed.

His gaze stopped on you.

Jay’s piercing eyes softened, his lips curving into the faintest smile, the kind of smile he rarely let anyone see. It was small, barely noticeable to most, but you knew it was for you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to hide the giddy grin that threatened to take over your face. Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced as he looked at you.

After a brief moment, Jay’s gaze dropped to his guitar. He adjusted the tuning, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the music. He stole one last glance at you before focusing on his task, a quiet confidence radiating from him as he prepared to play. 

Your cousin, still in shock, nudged you. “Okay, he’s hot. How did you—like, how did you—end up with him?”

You laughed, brushing her off as you continued to watch Jay. “It’s a long story,” you said, your voice dreamy.

As the band began their set, the crowd’s cheers grew louder, and Jay’s fingers danced effortlessly over the strings. The sound was mesmerizing, and your chest swelled with pride as you watched him command the stage.

And as you sat there, smiling like an idiot, you realized once again how lucky you were to call him yours.

The first being that he wants to perform. He wants to tour the world and bring a sliver of joy into people's lives. If he can be the difference in a person's life, even if he doesn’t really know them and they don’t know him, why wouldn’t he want that?

The second, though he knows it’s selfish, is you. The girl he met when he was fifteen in that ratty old music store, your hair thrown up and that mysterious stain on your pants.

You’d been embarrassed, of course, but Jungwon didn’t care. You could’ve been wearing a trash bag and he still would’ve known right there and then that he needed to know you. Needed to have you in his life in any capacity.

Because you were everything. You are everything.

The only person who makes him feel like a person after long days and even longer practices. The only person who really listens to his dreams and never questions whether or not he can achieve them.

To Jungwon, there is no one in this world that he thinks he could ever love more. No person that could make him question what he feels for you. The thought of hurting you–of being the reason you go to bed with swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks–makes him want to throw up. 

That’s why he knows it has to be over.

You’d both thought you could do it. Plenty of relationships go through long distance and still come out stronger. And for a while, he really believed it was possible. That the distance wouldn’t hurt what you had. He’d thought there was no obstacle too big, as long as it meant he got to keep you when he came out over the other side.

For the most part, you kept a brave face for him. Never complained when he called you late into the night, even though it was morning for him. Never said a word about the time differences or the way you’d sometimes go weeks at a time without a single text back from him.

And he hadn’t meant for it to happen, he really hadn’t. He wanted to be there for you more than anything. But there were some nights after long concerts when the thought of waking you up just so he could talk to you made his stomach twist into knots. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone who could be there for you no matter what–who wasn’t constantly across the world bringing joy to everyone except for the one person who mattered the most. 

He knew what he needed to do as soon as he stepped on that plane for the first time. Watching the way the light slowly dimmed from your eyes every time a new tour was announced–every time a phone call interrupted the limited time you had together.

But you never said anything.

And Jungwon knew it was selfish, to keep you just a little bit longer. To insist to his members that he’d do it when they came home, that he’d let you go for real this time. He tried to convince himself he could.

But he’s always been a weak man.

It wasn’t until he saw the first crack in you, the first indication that his schedule was hurting you–that the distance was too much–did he finally build up the courage.

There was no blowout fight. There was no indication from him that he’d wanted it to end.

It was a Thursday. The first one you’d finally been able to spend with him in months. The first day you’d finally had uninterrupted in who knows how long.

And you were happy. You were so, so happy. Jungwon could see it in the way you smiled at him. In the way your hands moved so animatedly when you talked to him or asked him questions about the tour. He could see it in the little things, like the way there seemed to be a little bounce in your step and how your hand constantly searched for his.

And he almost cowered out. How could he ruin that? He loves you, he knows he does, and is it so wrong to want to keep that? To keep the only thing he has that’s really, truly his?

And then he thinks back to the way you always looked a little sad every time he’d call you. The way the light seemed to slowly seep from your features, like he was a parasite selfishly feeding off of you because he thought he deserved it.

And he doesn’t deserve you, not really.

He thinks that’s why you knew as soon as he said it.

His hands are shaking–he can feel it without even having to see them. His chest feels so hollow he has half the mind to think there’s nothing truly in there. That his heart couldn’t take the pain and shriveled up and died somewhere. He wouldn’t blame it if it had.

You’re washing dishes, lips curved up into a small smile. You look so beautiful, so domestic. And if he was anyone else, if he had a different, more practical job, he wouldn’t even be thinking about this. Those four words wouldn’t be sitting on the tip of his tongue, begging him to swallow them down and forget he ever even thought of them.

But he loves you. He loves you so much it hurts.

He doesn’t let himself think about it anymore. He knows he’ll chicken out.

He stands, and his feet somehow feel heavy, like they’re trying to force him to stay sitting.

Your eyes flicker to him, and he thinks you know. He sees the way your smile falters the tiniest bit, the way your eyebrows scrunch together.

His voice doesn’t sound like his own when he says, “we need to talk.”

You pause, your movements halting. Water runs over the plate in your hand, washing away the leftover sauce from the pasta dinner you’d made. His favorite.

You swallow, and then, without even blinking, you say, “no.”

God, he wishes you wouldn’t make this harder. Because he knows if he listens to your arguments, if you tell him that you can make it work, he’ll listen. He’ll forget why he ever wanted to do this in the first place.

“[Y/N]–”

The plate clatters into the sink, the sound nearly making him flinch. “Jungwon, I said no. You’re not–no. I won’t let you.”

He takes another step closer, and the blood rushing in his ears nearly makes him dizzy. “We have to,” he insists, “It’s–I’m hurting you. Can’t you see that?”

You shake your head, and at some point, he doesn't even think you realize you’re doing it. Just repeating the motion over and over like you can’t wrap your head around what he’s doing. In all honesty, neither can he.

“Did I say that?” You ask. “Did I tell you that I was hurting?”

His hands ball into fists at his sides. You don’t have to tell him; he can see it. He can see the tears you try to hide. The disappointment that lingers in your voice every time he has to leave. “I know you, [Y/N]. More than I know myself. You don’t have to tell me for me to know it’s happening.”

You don’t seem to have a reply for that. Instead, your hands grip the counter like it’s grounding you. Like you’re trying to convince yourself that this is real–though he imagines you’re hoping it isn’t.

“Jungwon,” you plead. “Please. Please don’t.”

The sound of your voice is enough to bring tears to his eyes. His vision is blurry, but he still reaches for you blindly just like he always does when you’re hurting. You don’t protest when he wraps his arms around you from behind, his nose digging into the flesh at the base of your neck.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your skin, “I love you so fucking much.”

A sob wracks through your body. You turn around in his hold, your eyes finding his, and he almost wishes he could take it all back. “Then why?” You croak, bringing your own hands up to cup his jaw. “Why are you throwing it all away?”

Because I’m hurting you. Because I love you so much it hurts. Because I can never be who you deserve.

“You deserve more–”

You immediately cut him off. “No. No, I just want you. It’s only ever been you.”

He licks his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes dart to them. God, the thought of never kissing you again, of never tasting how sweet you taste–of someone else having doing it–it’s a thought so unbearable he immediately pushes it out of his mind.

He parts his lips to reply, but you immediately surge up and kiss him. It’s a heavy press of your lips; one filled with so much need it nearly knocks him off his feet. If he focuses, he could lose himself in this feeling. In the feeling of you, consuming his very soul. He thinks it’s his favorite feeling in the entire world.

Better than any concert. Better than any choreography. Better than all of it combined.

His hand finds your cheek, cupping it and pulling you impossibly closer. He can taste the salt on your lips from a mix of your tears; can taste everything you’re trying so hard to remind him of. But he doesn’t need a reminder of how much you love each other–he already knows it.

You whimper against his lips when his tongue slips into your mouth, licking you open like it’s the last time. Probably because he knows that it is.

He brings his hands down your body, tracing every curve. He doesn’t need to memorize how your body feels against his fingertips, he did that a long time ago.

His hands dig gently into the plush skin of your ass, and then he’s picking you up and walking you to your bedroom. You never break apart the whole time, kissing each other like you’re starving for it. Like the only way you’ll ever be satisfied is when you’ve consumed each other whole.

He thinks he’d be okay with that. Spending an eternity with you, being so close he can’t tell where you end and where he starts. He thinks, if he were anyone else, if this were any other lifetime, that that’s how his life would've ended up. And he would’ve been perfectly content with that.

He places you onto the mattress softly, treating you with care. He’s always gentle when you’re intimate but tonight is different. Tonight, he wants to tell you everything he isn’t able to say through his touch. Tonight, he wants to love you properly, even if it’s the last time.

You gasp when he pulls away from your lips, head reaching up to chase him again. He wonders if it’s because you want more or if you’re scared of what happens when it’s over.

His lips find the skin of your neck, sucking and biting and then licking the wounds. He marks himself into your skin, branding you with his mouth. It’s selfish, he thinks, to plant reminders of himself into you.

But he needs it. Needs to know that at one point and time, he loved you and you loved him. He needs to see it completely, with his own two eyes. Otherwise, he isn’t sure he’ll ever leave.

Your hands fly to his back, his hair, the nape of his neck. Anywhere you can reach, fingertips trailing over his body, like you’re also branding him in your own way. Like you’re reminding him how your fingertips feel against his burning skin. Making sure he knows there’s no one that can make him feel the way you do.

He knows that. He’s known that ever since he met you in that fucking music store.

Clothes come off in a blur, and then his hand is cupping your cunt, and his fingers are spreading you open. You suck him in, welcoming him like he’s an old friend.

Your lips part in a moan when he crooks his wrist just right, and he can’t help but smile at the noise.

“Right there?” He questions, as if he hadn’t memorized it years ago. “It’s good?”

You nod, lashes fluttering as your vision goes hazy. “Yes, fuckfuckfuck–Won!”

He lets himself bask in the way his name sounds falling from your lips like a prayer. Let’s himself pretend this is a different day, that he lives a different life. That instead of losing each other, you’re celebrating something.

An engagement, maybe? A family?

All things he wants with you. Not wanted–wants. Because there’s no one else he can imagine bearing his children, no child he can imagine in his mind that doesn’t have your eyes. Even when years have passed, when you’ve moved on and forgotten there was ever a boy with big dreams in your life, he knows there will never be anyone else.

Your eyes squeeze shut when he massages that spot inside you, your back arching against him and your tits pushing against his chest.

“Cum for me, baby.” He practically begs, working you harder. “Please? Need–Need to see it. Need to see you fall apart for me.”

You cry out, and then your thighs shake and he feels as you release against his fingers, your walls spasming against his fingers like you can’t decide whether or not you want to push him out or pull him closer.

He kisses you as you cum, swallowing every whine and whimper that escapes from you. He needs to feel it, he thinks. Needs to kiss you as much as he can until he’s not allowed to anymore. Until he loses that, too.

He takes his time pushing into you. Noting the way your brows crease at the stretch, the way your lip's part and how your eyes never leave his. He can see tears in them, but he doesn’t think they’re from pleasure.

You kiss him when he bottoms out, your legs wrapping around his waist. You moan against each other's mouths, the sound mingling like a harmony he never knew he needed.

The first few thrusts are gentle, just a small roll of his hips, but it still makes him see stars. The feeling of you wrapped around him, of your velvety walls pulsing and pulling him in, like you can’t stand the thought of him leaving, forces a sob from his chest.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he babbles, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Always feel so good. Like you were fucking made for me.”

Your only reply is a soft cry of his name, your nails digging into the skin of his back. He doesn't care that he’ll have marks tomorrow, he’ll wear them with pride until they disappear. A final reminder of you–of the love you had and lost.

“I love you,” he says, and it’s raw. Honest. His hips pick up speed slightly, and you gasp like all the air has been knocked from your lungs. “I love you so much. So much, baby. I’m so sorry.”

You’re sobbing now, but if it’s from overstimulation or from the meaning behind his words, he’s not entirely sure. Probably both, he imagines.

“J-Jungwon,” you hiccup. “Please.”

“I got you, honey.” He reassures, hips slamming against yours now. The wet sounds fill the quiet room, echoing off the walls like it’s mocking you. “I got you.”

When he finishes, it’s real and raw and a declaration of everything he’s ever felt for you. It crawls up his entire body, from the tips of his ears to the soles of his feet, and his body shudders from the feeling.

You release shortly after him with a cry of his name, your hips stuttering and nails digging into his skin.

For a moment, you both just sit there catching your breath, staring at each other like you’re trying to convince yourself that it’s not the last time.

He kisses your forehead, and he knows he should leave. Knows he should collect his clothes and walk out of your life forever, but he can’t. Not yet.

You don’t say anything when he crawls besides you, when his hands wrap against your waist and pull you against his chest. Don’t say anything when he places gentle kisses on your shoulders and the top of your spine.

It’s not until both of your breathing has evened out do you speak.

“Jungwon,” you murmur, fear lingering in your voice. “Please don’t leave me.”

He breaks. Completely. It takes everything in him to not let himself sob into your shoulder, to not fall apart with you in his arms.

Instead, he just places one final kiss on your skin and says, “sleep.”

When you awake, it’s not to a full bed and the man you love.

It’s to an empty house, and the ghost of a man who you once met at a music store.

The memory of a man who once loved you so much, he let you go.

And as you sob on the floor, hands covering your face and clenching the fabric above your heart, you wish for the first time in your life, that he loved you less.