アリサ¹⁰⁰⁹

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

The office wasn’t extraordinarily big but it was an undeniable upgrade from the dingy grey cubicle you’d been calling your home for the past 2 years. You remember exactly what it felt like to move into that cubicle, especially because you’re having the exact same feeling as you stare at your empty office. You’d gotten an internship at Hybe Corporation under BigHit about two years ago. Through many changes, firings, and quittings, you’d been promoted due to necessity — but now, you’d been promoted because of your own merit.

The pen you’d used to sign under Belift Lab as a public relations manager for their model: EVAN. You’d learnt, while doing your research for the presentation, that his real name was Lee Heeseung and he’d been contracted under Belift Lab in 2020 for modeling alongside six others. 

You walked past the boxes you’d yet to unpack and pulled out your laptop. Opening the messages you wrote out a text to Heeseung, informing him of the change.

You: Good morning, Mr. Lee Heeseung. My name is L/N Y/N and I’ll be your new PR Manager starting today. I’ll be contacting brands today in order to schedule gigs for you by the end of the week. If you have any questions or would like to meet to discuss anything, please let me know.

The message was strictly professional and maybe that's what pulled you into a bird’s eye state of consciousness. This was uncanny — both foreign and familiar — drafting a professional message to send to a client, yet this time you weren’t drafting it with someone else’s name attached. Your heart beat rapidly as you hit the send button, waiting to make sure it went through, before leaving your desk and opening one of the many filled boxes. 

The sunset behind the clouds somewhere between setting up a personal printer and desperately searching for your laptop charger. The day having been spent setting up your new office and sending exactly one message, a message which was finally being answered only eight hours later. 

Lee Heeseung: Good evening, sorry for the late reply. I’d like to meet with you if it’s possible? 

Your brows furrowed slightly. You’d worked with plenty of models before, you’d contacted a handful too, none of them came across with the gentleness that Heeseung did. Nowhere was the demanding quality that texts were typically sent in. But of course, this was only the first text, things could change.

You: Of course. Let’s meet at 12:00 o’clock at Daydream Cafe. Does this work?

It was a silly question, you had Heeseung’s schedule — it was full of empty boxes.

Lee Heeseung: Yes, perfect. Thank you.

You: I’ll see you there Mr. Lee.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

Working under BigHit, you’d seen many pretty faces. Worked quite close to some of them too, but time seemed to slow down like it was treading through a vat of honey. The pictures didn’t quite do him justice, the cameras couldn’t quite capture his dimension. It should’ve embarrassed you at how hard you were staring — and it did, when you ran it over in your head before falling asleep that night — but in the moment, all you could think about was how beautiful Lee Heeseung was. The way the afternoon sun piercing through the glass windows cast a halo around his silhouette, how his simple outfit seemed to only highlight the natural beauty of his face, and how his eyes looked so wide, and so lost, and so breathtaking as he looked around the cafe.

And it dawned on you: he doesn’t know what you look like.

“Uh,” The legs of your chair scraped obnoxiously on the floor, “Mr. Lee! Hi, I’m sorry I hadn’t realized you don’t know what I look like.” 

His gentle eyes bore into yours; it drew a nervous laugh like water from a well and it painted blush on your cheeks in Alazarin Crimson.

“Oh, hi.” It was embarrassing, how his smile made your heart stutter off beat. 

You noted the fresh makeup resting on his face. 

“Were you at a shoot?”

“Huh?” His eyes shone with innocent confusion. “Uh, well, I made an Instagram account and I needed something to post so… I scheduled something last week.”

You gestured for Heeseung to take a seat across from you. 

“What do you mean? Shouldn’t your PR manager have done the scheduling for you?”

Those eyes which had held yours the whole time suddenly dropped, unable to look in your direction. His jaw was defined in the way a man’s only does when he’s holding back his influx of emotion. You heard the air shift as he breathed deeply.

“I haven’t had one… for a while.”

“What do you mean you ‘haven’t had one for a while’? Who’s been managing you?”

The constant chatter of the cafe hadn’t diminished, hadn’t silenced, hadn’t increased, and yet it felt entirely too quiet with Heeseung’s lack of response. 

“Uh hey,” His voice, though soft, demanded your audience, “Let me grab a drink quickly and then I want to ask you about something.”

You pulled out your fresh, shiny, new company card and handed it over to him without hesitation. “I’d love to say it’s on me, but it’s actually on Lee Jaesang. Go crazy.”

Your smug smile was returned with an impressed one — and any tension you felt earlier dissipated in the exchange of a credit card. 

Talking with Heeseung came much more naturally than you’d expected. Maybe that was because he wore his heart on his sleeve or because your friendly nature had dropped his guard. Whatever the case, as soon as you told him that you’d like to manage his career with consideration of his goals for himself, his eyes held you in the same awe as if you had hung the stars just for him. 

“So, to get this straight,” Your favorite pen — Black Pilot G-2 0.7 — smoothly glided across your small notebook, “You’ve been managing your own social media accounts for the past two weeks because your contract changed?”

His throat worked around a swallow, “Yeah, yeah that’s right.” He nodded. 

“Right.” You flipped your notebook back a page, “I have notes from your previous manager. He had a detailed plan for you, including partnerships with major brands! I greenlighted them yesterday since your schedule seemed to be empty.”

Engrossed in your notes, you failed to recognize the slight tremor in his hand when he set his iced americano down.

“Partnerships?” 

“Yeah! A lot of brands and magazines want to work with you, Mr. Lee.” 

“Uh, Heeseung. Heeseung is fine.”

You turned your head up to see his shy face in all its world-renowned glory. 

“Alright then, Heeseung,” You corrected, “I have a plane ticket to Shanghai for you for a gig.”

“Oh okay.” He fidgeted with his hands. 

“Yes, I lined you up with a brand deal for SimCare who loved your prior work with Joocyee. You’ll be a brand ambassador for them.” 

Heeseung smiled softly in an apprehensive kind of way. Which confused you more than you’d like to admit. Because Lee Heeseung doesn’t fit into the category you’d initially placed him in. 

Sure, you’d never worked under Belift Lab before but you’d worked with models. Ones just as popular, successful, and handsome as Heeseung is. They all carried an energy characterized in confidence that bordered on arrogance and a directness that bordered on inconsideration. And you’d seen Heeseung’s work, he was confident and rightfully so. He was impeccable at his job and entirely multifaceted — so maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise that he was able to present himself as humble too. 

Perhaps you were too cynical for your own good but you didn’t want to believe that to be true. That Heeseung was different from the other models you’d spent assisting the management of. No you couldn’t believe it, not yet. Instead you just made a mental note to ask him about an acting career in the future. 

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

The company car pulled up to the front of Heeseung’s apartment building at exactly 11:15, where the man of the hour had been waiting patiently. After throwing his luggage in the trunk, he opened the door and flinched back in surprise. 

“Oh… holy— you scared me.” He stuttered with a hand on his heart.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You apologized, almost nonchalantly. 

“What are you doing here?” The door shut softly as he climbed in next to you.

“I’m headed to Shanghai as well. I have a couple PR teams that I wanted to meet with.”

“SimCare?” He asked, peeping over at your laptop which proudly displayed your Gmail account with the brightness all the way up.

It took you a second before you responded, your mind being too preoccupied with reading emails of nothingness.

“No, no. I won’t be at your shoot, I’ll be discussing things with other potential business partners.”

Heeseung nodded at your words, his fingers flexing against the knees of his black sweats. The car ride to the airport mainly consisted of the smooth jazz radio being harmonized by the clicking of your fingers against the laptop. It was only broken a couple of times, all by Heeseung himself. Like when he asked where your luggage was and you pointed to the small duffel bag at your feet. Judging by the look on his face, he was horrified at how little you’d packed. 

“It’s only a two hour flight.” You had explained; it did nothing to alleviate his concern.

He’d also asked who you’d be meeting with in Shanghai and where you’d be. You responded that that was confidential information. You let him simmer in the disappointment of unanswered questions before telling him:

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, Heeseung.”

The airport was crowded with fans, as usual, screaming Heeseung’s name at the top of their lungs and holding out letters as far as their arms could reach. This was the part of management that you never had to deal with. As an assistant, you got to sit behind a screen and answer emails or try not to roll your eyes every time you picked up the phone. Now, you walked alongside Heeseung’s body guards with heightened adrenaline — knowing all too well that the fans couldn’t care less about you if only you would walk out of the frame of their fancams.

You only released a breath of relief after sitting in the aisle seat of row 17 economy. As if TSA and departure times weren’t stressful enough, you had to worry about people following you — well, Heeseung.

Lee Heeseung: Hey where are you?

You read his message with the last bit of Wi-Fi the airport had to offer.

You: Row 17 aisle. Don’t worry, I’ll take you to your shoot when we arrive in Shanghai.

Your eyes fell closed as you listened to the whirring of the air conditioner overhead. Your mind raced with all the PR representatives that you’d be meeting with for the next several hours after the plane landed. A faint throbbing rose in the back of your head and your phone felt hot in your hand. You silently prayed that your boss wouldn’t send you another email before tomorrow; for both his and your own sanity. The flight was short and you’d never be able to fall asleep but closing your eyes was enough. Who knew management would be so stressful.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

Shanghai was absolutely breathtaking. Seeing the city in person, standing beneath the buildings that reached toward the heavens, driving next to the water which glimmered in the afternoon sun —- it proved that pictures did not do her justice. The car dropped the two of you off at the hotel. Heeseung stood behind you, generously holding your duffel bag, as you checked into the hotel and handed him his keycard.

“I’ll be gone for a couple hours but if you need me, please text me or call me.” You hit floors seven and five. 

“We’re not on the same floor?” He asked.

“No, I’m on five.” You took the opportunity to take your duffel back from his hands, “Thank you for holding my bag, Heeseung.”

“No problem.” He cleared his throat softly.

“Oh also,” You glanced into his deep brown eyes, forcing yourself not to turn away from their gentleness, “Feel free to do whatever you want today but your shoot will start tomorrow at 9:00.” The elevator stopped and held itself in limbo before the doors opened. “Like I said, I’ll be there to drop you off at the site but I won’t stay. I’ll be in a meeting.”

“Right.” He nodded continuously, like he expected another topic to come up. Or maybe, that he wanted one to. “So then, will you be there to pick me up?”

“Uh…” The doors beeped angrily due to their inability to close with your body in the way. “If I’m not in a meeting then sure, I can come get you.”

“Okay, great.” He smiled softly. “Then I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at 8:00 in the lobby.”

His curled lips didn’t drop even as the doors closed between you. It took you just a moment to make the journey to your hotel room, with your brows furrowed and head trying to figure out the 181cm enigma that had been cast under your care. 

After three years of working with models — first as an intern, then as PR representative, then as a managing assistant — you thought it would have prepared you. You thought it had prepared you to manage a model on your own. Logistically, it had. You knew how to secure brand deals, negotiate contracts, schedule events, book travel and accommodations, hire security, and dodge questions that weren’t meant for certain ears. Logistically, you knew how to manage Lee Heeseung. 

But he wasn’t like the models you’d worked with before — at least outside of the studio. Albeit, you’ve never seen him in the studio, but where you used to tell models their flight details only to receive complaints or questions about their accommodations or comfort, Heeseung asked where you were, what you’d be doing, if you had time to pick him up. Why? 

You were his manager. All models need to care about is whether their manager is failing them or not; you weren’t wholly confident in your abilities to manage Heeseung but you knew for a fact you hadn’t failed in under 36 hours. Which is why his interest in your job left you confused and mildly irritated. Like you were being watched; like he was waiting to see if you failed.

And maybe that gentle smile you’d held with such fondness was more sinister than you initially thought.

Your phone rang as soon as you tossed your duffel onto your hotel bed. Fishing it out of your pocket, you checked the caller I.D. and smiled.

“Hi, babe.” You walked over to the balcony and stood in the breeze.

“Hey, baby, how’s Shanghai?” His voice told that he was smiling brightly on the other end.

“Good so far!”

“Oh, so you don’t need me to hop on a plane and come translate?”

You let out a breathy laugh, “No, Nicho, I don’t need you to come translate for me.”

“Oh, when did you learn Mandarin?”

“I hired a translator, babe, they have those.”

“You hired a translator that's not me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, despite knowing he wouldn’t see, “I didn’t know you’d cancel your shoot just to follow me around all day.” 

“And get paid for it? C’mon baby… you know that’s my dream.”

You deadpanned to no one but the glorious skyline in front of you. 

“Speaking of dreams, how was the shoot?”

“Incredible, actually. The team I’m working with are incredible dancers — it’s insane.”

This time he could hear your smile, “That’s amazing, Nicho, I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah,” He was blushing on the other end, you could tell, “Hey I just wanted to check in on you. I’ll see you when you get back, have fun.”

“Thanks Nicho,” You spoke softly while rubbing the combinations of numbers on your arm, “How lucky are we to have found each other?”

“Not lucky at all babe,” He let out a pitchy laugh that tugged at your heartstrings, “It’s fate.”

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

You watched Heeseung trudge through the lobby at 8:00 as if he hadn’t used his legs in 15 years. He rubbed his eyes and mumbled a good morning as he spotted you. Or at least, you thought it was a good morning — his raspy morning voice and lack of annunciation made it hard to tell.

“Good morning to you too, Heeseung,” You greeted, holding back a giggle, “Would you like to stop for coffee before we arrive at the studio?”

He nodded his head with his eyes sewn shut and had to force them open again. You shook your head fondly before leading the two of you toward the car which was waiting for you. The early morning Shanghai air bit at your skin as you opened the door for Heeseung to climb in.

“Do you have a specific coffee shop that you frequent in Shanghai?” As soon as your seatbelt clicked, the car started to drive toward the main road.

“No, no,” He denied, “Just go to the closest one.”

You smiled softly at his droopy state and informed the driver to take you to the nearest coffee shop — praying that it was a good one. 

Even as you watched Heeseung sleepily walk through the doors into the studio, you hadn’t sipped your coffee. Instead you rattled off the address you were headed to and reviewed your negotiation strategies. Pretending like you were terrified of messing up on the first big contract negotiation for Heeseung, even though the condensation dripping from the sides of the cup was a visual representation of your nerves.

The car rolled in front of a tall sleek building which was even more sleek and expensive on the inside. The walls were white and seemed to glow with the intensity of the lights. The walls were bare and the furniture was minimalist which gave the feeling that more expense was given than less. That was all you realized under the constant pressure against your head to not fail. 

It was all that reverberated inside your skull, even as you pulled the chair out at the conference table. Don’t fail. You can’t fail. You have to negotiate a good deal. You have to make EVAN a success. You have to re-establish his brand. You can’t let him down. You can’t fail him.

“Good morning, Miss L/N.” The man in front of you greeted as he sat down in front of you. 

“Good morning, Mr. Liu.” You smiled and folded your shaking hands in your lap, “I could have met you at your headquarters in Hangzhou. It would have been no problem.”

“No worries,” The translator spoke a beat after Mr. Liu finished his reply, “I was already in Shanghai for other business.” 

You nodded your head and smiled, carrying on a bit of small talk before you committed to talking in terms of business and revenue. For his intimidating appearance, Mr. Liu was quite friendly — more than you expected. 

“I noticed that Proya Cosmetics have been attempting to secure a brand deal with Lee Heeseung for quite some time. Apologies for the wait, there were recent shifts in management but we’d be happy to accept and negotiate a deal that benefits all parties adequately.” 

You brushed your finger over the mark on your arm, the rhythmic motions calming your breathing down as you waited in the limbo of translation. Proya Cosmetics would be a perfect brand deal for Heeseung. He has experience working with Joocyee and now SimCare, he worked with Qrsessed in the past and a potential deal with said company would be in the works, if all went well. You’re sure it would. And you’re sure Proya would accept him due to Heeseung’s popularity in China. You just had to discuss a deal that would properly benefit all parties: Heeseung, Proya, Belift Lab, and the consumer base. 

No biggie.

“We’d love to accept Evan to advertise our new products: a cushion foundation and sunscreen.” The translator spoke to your right but you looked and nodded along to the man who owned those words, “For Proya, our ideal deal for Evan is to welcome him as a brand ambassador and run an immediate ad campaign and look into future campaigns later on.”

“Right, of course,” You nodded at the interest in long-term partnership, assuming it was due to his status among the customer base, “Belift Lab is interested in an ambassadorship as well, however Evan is not available to be Proya’s ambassador exclusively.”

“Of course not!” Mr. Liu laughed, “Oh I can name about five brands in China alone that want Evan to be their ambassador. He’s quite popular everywhere though, isn’t he?”

You laughed along though something tugged at your brows. Questions began to nag in the back of your brain, distracting you from the task at hand. Pressing your thumb deep into the mark, you grounded yourself and forced your attention to the negotiations.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

The sun was setting behind the clouds by the time you lazily pulled the door to the car open. You had spent the morning negotiating and approving plans with Proya Cosmetics; then once the afternoon rolled around, you talked your tongue dry over the phone with PR representatives from Qrsessed at an outdoor table adjacent to a coffee shop. After finalizing the paperwork and responding to emails, you called the car to pick you up. 

You jumped back in surprise as the door opened fully.

“Heeseung?!” You sighed in relief, letting your shoulders drop, “You scared the everliving daylights out of me.”

His laugh echoed endlessly in the backseat, “Now you know how it feels.”

The sound of the door shutting cut off the rest of his giggle fit. 

“Yes, yes I do.” You snapped your seatbelt in place, “I thought I was picking you up, not the other way around?”

“Well,” He scratched at his right knee absentmindedly, “My shoot ended hours ago.” He turned to you with a crease in his forehead, “Do meetings typically take all day?”

You laughed humorlessly, “Depends on the meeting.”

“Mm,” He nodded.

“The meetings involve your future, Heeseung. I can’t take them lightly.” You confessed, turning to look at the passing buildings from the window. “I had to make sure that you got the best deal they had. And typically those deals are hidden under the table.”

The whirring of the air conditioner was the only sound filtering between the two of you. It was nice. The quiet of it all. It was indescribably serene after the day you had of constant talking and constant strategizing. You had no thoughts going through your head now. Well, not until:

“Wait,” You turned to the driver, “Where are we going?”

“Ah,” Heeseung cleared his throat, “There’s this restaurant I’ve been wanting to try. So, I got us a reservation.”

Perhaps you picked up on these things easier since you’d worked with so many models before but Heeseung had garnered a slight blush as he spoke. Not on his face — no his blushy cheeks were hidden beneath perfectly curated makeup, but his chest and ears were not. Again, it could’ve been the models you’d always worked with but no model you’d ever met had blushed at you. Perhaps he’s just nervous.

“Oh, that’s great!” The phantom pressure of deciding where to go and reserving a seat dissipated from your shoulders, “Thank you, Heeseung.”

“Of course, Manager L/N.”

The foreignness of the words ripped a laugh from your chest, “Please,” You waved him off, “Please, just call me Y/N.” 

He smiled brightly — some would say fondly — at your reaction. A smile which didn’t drop from his face; it stayed plastered on his lips like a bandaid. 

Like proof that something was healing.

The walls were dark and the dim lights seemed to make them impossibly darker — like black holes that would inevitably suck you in. Heeseung spoke to the finely dressed waitress through the thin material of his black face mask. She smiled professionally before leading him toward a table that was secluded from windows and obscured from prying eyes.

Heeseung pulled a chair out from under the table and gestured for you to take a seat, the sight stopped you in your tracks, causing you to stare for just a moment too long. 

“Uh, thank you,” You scurried into the seat after realizing.

“No problem.” He took his seat across from you and picked up the menu.

You glanced through the menu, noting the English translations under the Mandarin. The combination of languages had you glancing down to the mark on your left arm and then your thoughts traveled to the person who shared the same mark.

“This place is known for their xiaolongbao,” Heeseung suddenly spoke, ripping you from your thoughts, “So, we should probably get two orders of those.”

“Pardon?” You furrowed your brows at him.

“Oh well, I mean, I don’t know how many you plan to eat but I could go through an entire order by myself.”

You nodded your head slowly, “Right….”

Sensing your confusion, Heeseung thought for a minute about why that was. 

“This is a family style type of restaurant,” He clarified, “You order a dish and its for the whole table.”

“Oh,” You dragged the word out, “That makes more sense now.”

His lips curled upwards and the lights reflected as stars in his eyes, “Yeah, so I think we should get two orders of xiaolongbao. Do you like pork, crab, chicken, or beef?” 

You contemplated for a moment, “We should get one pork and one chicken.”

“That’s what I was thinking!” He laughed softly before turning back to the menu. 

The two of you deliberated over what dishes to get: the peppered beef sirloin was a no-brainer, the garlic green beans had good reviews, the noodles were a must for Heeseung, and the refreshing cucumber salad sounded like the perfect side dish. 

“Oh!” You turned to the waitress and pointed at something on the menu, “One of these too, please.”

She nodded and left your table just as speedily as she’d arrived.

“What was that?” He picked up his glass of water.

“A surprise.” You dodged, mirroring his actions.

“Right,” A breathy chuckle fell from his lips. At the sound, an unconscious smile rose to your lips. 

“So, how was the shoot?”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes turned up to the ceiling in thought. “It was okay. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded, “How did SimCare treat you?”

This time, he furrowed his brows at you, “What do you mean?”

“Like, were they patient with you? Did they demand things from you unnecessarily? Did they treat you with respect?”

“Oh um, yeah I think so.”

“What do you mean ‘you think so’?” Your brows creased.

“Well, I mean, it was just a normal shoot. Why do you wanna know anyway?”

You frowned slightly, “Because I’m your manager, Heeseung. I want to know how you’re being treated, especially by a business partner that I helped form for you.”

He stared at you blankly — completely unreadable — those dark brown eyes full of thought but pouring none of it out to you. 

“It went fine.” He smiled softly, “How were your meetings? Were they… successful?”

You mulled over the question, “I think so.” Your fingers lightly tapped against the side of your glass as the waitress set down a bottle of red wine, “I negotiated the best deal for you that I could.”

He nodded understandingly then moved to open the bottle.

“The companies always take a majority of the revenue from these deals but you’ll be taking home a large sum, don’t worry. I made sure of it.”

You laughed softly in that tired way where it's mostly just air coming out of your nose. You watched the red liquid slosh into the glass and heard it scrape against the table as he pushed it toward you. 

“Oh, thank you.”

He only smiled easily in return. That’s what it felt like with Heeseung. It felt easy. As if he didn’t have any expectations for you; as if when he looked at you, he saw a person instead of a machine. 

You’d never been to dinner with a client before, certainly not with an established model, but you’re certain that if it had been anyone else sitting across from you, it wouldn’t feel the same. Your hands wouldn’t be clammy and your heart wouldn’t be beating out of your chest — certainly.

No if this were any other model: you’d force yourself to look at him when speaks, not choose to because his eyes are so entracing. You’d force yourself to say filler response words as he rambled about his day, not listen intently like he was a friend you’d always known but hadn’t seen in a while. You’d tune out his laugh not search for it underneath the echoes of other patrons enjoying their meals. 

You ate contentedly, sharing each other’s days as much as you did the food. He wasn’t expecting a fantastical story about the logistic side of his job but he listened to it as if he was genuinely curious to know what a manager did day-to-day. He spoke easy, casually, confidently, like you’d been the only manager he’d even known. 

“Actually Heeseung,” You remembered something you’d learnt about him earlier, “You told me that you had been without a manager for a couple weeks. Why was that? I didn’t see anything in your file?”

You watched his eyes blur out of focus before shifting to look down at the noodles in front of him.

“It just… happened that way.” His voice could barely be categorized as a whisper. 

“Alright,” You kept your voice light, noticing that the topic must be sore, “Well if you can, knowing more about—”

“And here is your final order!” The waitress spoke happily, placing another steamed basket in front of you and Heeseung. 

“Uh, more dumplings?” He asked inquisitively. 

“Oh, actually they’re—”

The loud ringing of your phone cut you off. You turned to your bag to find it, a blush settling on your cheeks the longer it rang. 

“They’re a different type of dumpling,” The information did not seem to quell his confusion. You checked the caller identification and immediately stood. “Uh, sorry, Heeseung, I will be right back.”

“Is everything okay?” His voice dripped in concern.

“Yeah! Yeah everything's fine, please enjoy the dessert.” You rushed toward an exit before finishing your sentence completely.

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

“Y/N? Y/N? Y/N! Y/N.” 

Your brows furrowed in a deep worry, “Yes, yes, I’m here what’s wrong, baby?”

“What do I— What do I do if I get caught doing something I shouldn’t?”

“What do you mean, Nicho?”

“No I mean, I was just at the club, you know? Yeah I was just there and there was this huge dance circle— you should’ve seen it.” His voice betrayed him, he was intoxicated. It was impossible to miss with his intonation and lazy speech.

“Nicho what happened? What did you do?” Your voice was raised as if it was trying to compete with the loud beating of your heart.

“Well, you see I was in the dance circle, yeah? And in the dance circle I wanted to dance, yeah?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hold back a frustrated and impatient sigh. The cool air was hitting you in waves and you could’ve sworn a droplet landed on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, and then what?”

“Well, it was so fresh in my mind with all the filming and stuff and, you know I really think it’s cool, I remember telling you that.” Your eyes widened in realization, “And I think I might be a little intoxicated because I just started doing the dance off of memory and everyone was cheering and celebrating and oh, it was awesome.”

“Nicho, did you do the dance for the music video you just shot?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You pushed a hand through your hair, “But there’s no proof right?”

“Well, that’s the thing…”

“Nicho how many people have that video?”

“Uh I don't know, everyone was filming.”

“Well, can you make sure none of them post it?”

“That’s not gonna help.”

“Why?”

“It’s already on Twitter.” 

You screwed your eyes shut. Words failing to rise on your tongue until they came all at once. 

“Nicho, I told you to pace yourself on your drinking.”

“Yeah, and I have! This was a one-time thing.”

“It’s not a one-time thing. You’ve done this before.”

“No, I haven’t? I never reveal top secret choreo!”

“I’m not talking about the choreo, Nicho. I’m talking about the drinking and the clubbing. Listen, I don’t care that that’s what you’re into as long as it doesn’t affect your professional life or our personal life together. You’re under a contract with Hybe Japan, you can’t just do whatever you want. You need to be more careful about where you’re seen in public—”

“I’m already going through a lot right now, Y/N. I called because I need your help, not because I wanted to be reprimanded.”

“How am I supposed to help you, Nicho?” You nearly yelled into the receiver of your phone, hands subtly rubbing your chilly skin. 

The chill seeping into your skin made it all the easier to feel the warmth radiating behind you. You whipped your head around to see Heeseung removing the denim jacket he’d been wearing. Held within his hands along with a takeout bag from the restaurant and the purse you’d left inside, he offered you the jacket along with a look characterized by care.

“I don’t know, Y/N. You’re a higher up in Belift Lab now. You’ve worked in BigHit for years. You can probably suggest them to let me off the hook, you know?”

You broke your contact with Heeseung’s gaze.

“What, like if they take you to court? For leaking the choreo? You know that would put my job in jeopardy, right?”

You kept your eyes away from the sight of the 181cm model in front of you, causing you to miss the concern plastered all over his face. You swallowed thickly and suppressed the shiver that threatened to overtake you.

“And what about my career?” Nicho scoffed, “I’m really in a tough spot right now and you’re the only one who can help me.”

“I don’t know how to help you.” As soon as you were about to rub your forehead, the heavy denim jacket found its way onto your shoulders via Heeseung’s hands. The same hands which held your purse and leftovers while hailing the sleek black car you’d been riding in all day. 

Your hands tugged the jacket closer, you pretended that the strong cologne lingering on the fabric didn’t offer you an inexplicable sense of comfort.

“Shouldn’t you know, though?” Your boyfriend asked as Heeseung opened the door for you, “Isn’t it your job to represent client relationships to the public?”

A bitter laugh was contained only by how hard you were biting your lips, “Your employer — my employer — isn’t the public, Nicho. When they find out that you leaked the choreo, there’s nothing I can do to persuade them not to take legal action.”

“Would you do it for one of your models?”

“What?”

“Nevermind, thanks for nothing, babe.” 

The next thing to flood your ears were the three disappointing beeps of an ended call. You pulled your phone from your ear and stared at the blank screen. Dazed, jarred, and guiltily disappointed.

“Who was that?” Heeseung’s soft and sweet voice filtered over to your ears.

The answer should’ve been easy. Nicholas. Wang Yixiang. Your boyfriend. Your soulmate. 

Instead you answered “no one” and scratched harshly at the mark on your arm. As if it had offended you — as if you could rid yourself of it.

You only said two other things that night. Nothing in the car, nothing in the elevator, nothing until the two of you made it to the door of your hotel room. You paused, taking off his coat and handing it to him with a sad but grateful smile. He traded the jacket for your purse and the leftovers. 

“What time is the plane ride tomorrow?” He asked quietly.

“11 but we have to be there at 10. Be ready by 9:20.”

“Of course.” He agreed, deep browns holding yours so gently, so reverently, as if he couldn’t — wouldn’t — look away. It took you too long to realize, you shouldn’t.

“Goodnight, Heeseung. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you.”

“Of course, yeah,” He watched you step deeper into the room, “See you at 9:20.”

And that was a promise he kept. 9:20, there he was in the lobby. 10:00, there he was walking through the fan raided airport. 11:00, there he was boarding the plane 20 minutes earlier than you with the rest of first class. 14:30, there he was loading the car with your bags. 15:17, there he was saying goodbye to you at the company building — watching you walk off to a side of the building he never traversed. 

And somehow as you walked off, it seemed like colors fell flat, notes didn’t harmonize, and flowers didn’t bloom.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

Maybe Nicho was right. You were a higher-up in a Hybe subsidiary now. If anything comes up, you might be able to persuade them to consider the situation from a different view point. Nicho was drunk, it was an accident. Nicho is only one person, the music video features nine dancers — he didn’t spoil much. Nicho is an incredible dancer, one of the four people who founded the dance team. Have some grace.

All of your defense — budding in when it’s not your business — could put your very new position, and the career you’ve spent the past three years cultivating, in jeopardy. You mulled over that possibility a thousand and one times — but this is Nicho. Your soulmate. The man you are universally bound to by the string of numbers written on your arm.

You remember perfectly when they first appeared. They always appear once puberty hits, faint at first, as if there’s something hiding beneath the first few layers of skin. You’d searched for those faint marks all over your body, smiling when you saw them peaking through. Everyday, you checked to see if they got darker, more legible — and they did. 

As a young teenage girl, of course you became obsessed with finding your soulmate. You looked at every piece of visible skin a person showed, you cultivated questions that would prod them into telling you their number, you would go on websites where people would post their numbers and hope their soulmate happened to be online too. 

For years, you ignored the proverb that your soulmate would find you when you least expected it. Or that Fate would draw the two of you together when the time was right. But like most people who weren’t lucky enough to have found their soulmate before university, you grew out of looking for that number in every place you went. You focused on yourself: your education, your career, your aspirations. With the occasional peak at any model’s soulmate mark if given the opportunity. You never expected your soulmate to actually be a model — and that’s partially true, Nicho isn’t a model but he’s quite close to being one. 

You don’t have to imagine just how surprised you were meeting your soulmate on possibly the worst day of your life. Waking up the fire alarm going off in your apartment building, getting cleared to go back inside 30 minutes before you had to be at work, having to get gas in the that same morning, showing up late and running to the office, bumping into someone in the middle of the hallway and being too distracted to even apologize, your boss telling you that being late made you look irresponsible, getting told to help the mean manager of the Hybe Japan dance team, the air conditioner in the Hybe building breaking, getting ordered around by superiors that were not your own — it was an awful day.

Until you pulled up your sleeves to alleviate the heat, only to find that your soulmate mark had gone from a pitch black to a bright red. You’d met your soulmate. You looked up to the sweet face of the boy you had just introduced yourself to. He ripped his gaze from that red mark and into your wide eyes — not knowing that his eyes had also widened in pure shock. Pulling his sleeve up, you recognized the pattern of numbers. And the worst day ever became the best day ever.

So maybe Nicho was right about your newfound power but he was also wrong about something else. You wouldn’t jeopardize your career or future for one of your clients, one of the models under your care — Heeseung — yeah, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t jeopardize your career for Heeseung but you would do it for your soulmate in a heartbeat.

You’d do it for Nicho.

So you wait with your body tense and your breath held. Kept your ears open for any whispers of Nicho’s name, Twitter, or the dance team. You listened and waited, you did not speak or search. Instead you booked Heeseung a hair appointment. Texted him when to be there and when to expect the car to show up. You forwarded him the information of his finalized deals with Proya Cosmetics — told him to expect flight details soon. All from the safety of your office on the 15th floor of the Hybe building, trying to pretend like the anxiety wasn’t chewing at you faster than you could chew at your nails.

Lee Heeseung: Will you be going to Hangzhou too?

You: No, you’ll be going alone.

The text was snappy and it permeated a chilly cold through the digital screen. You noticed it for a millisecond before you packed your things in a rush to escape the dark walls of this retched building. 

But even as you stepped into your quaint apartment, its light walls and warm lights did not embrace you in comfort. They looked almost just as confining. You flung your bag onto your couch and walked to your kitchen. Barely ten steps away from each other but your lazy footsteps doubled the distance. You didn’t have a particular appetite, especially not for anything in your fridge, but you rested your hand on it nonetheless.

Your phone rang before you could pull the handle.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this L/N Y/N? Manager of Evan under Belift Lab?”

“Hi, yes. That is I.” You felt your knees go weak.

“Right. Well, I’m calling as a representative of Hybe Japan and I have you cited here as someone who can vouch for the integrity of Wang Yixiang. Is this true?”

You threw your head back as your heart fell to the floor. 

“Yes,” You bit the words out, hating how bitter they tasted in your mouth, “I know Yixiang personally.”

“Great,” The woman on the other line sounded like what a blank blackboard looked like. You could see the remnants of the writing that had been there before, but it was all indecipherable. You had no idea what to expect, no idea what she would ask. So you took it one word at a time:

Do you know the contract that Mr. Wang signed with Hybe Japan? Yes.

He cited that you had been the one to inform him of his rights as well as his restrictions upon signing said contract. Is that true? Yes. 

Were you with Mr. Wang the night that the videos were taken? No, I was in Shanghai.

Do you know whether Mr. Wang was intoxicated at the time the video was filmed? Yes, he was.

Has Mr. Wang had a history of clubbing and excessive drinking? …I would not say ‘excessive’. 

Ms. L/N, you are aware that Hybe Corp is within full legal rights to submit a lawsuit for the leaking of classified information including choreography, yes? 

You bit your lip hard, “Yes. Yes, I am aware.” You took a deep breath, “I would hope that Hybe Corp would consider pursuing other routes before taking it up with the law. Though that is well within your prerogative to do so. If you want my honest analysis of Yixiang’s character…” 

You sighed, tiredly. But not a tired that goes away with sleep; not a tired that comes from an isolated incident. A deep tired that accumulates until no amount of excess sleep could repair the strain that had stretched you too far. 

“My honest opinion? Yixiang is human. He makes mistakes but they’re never done in malice or with bad intentions. He has a heart to chase what he wants and he’s willing to go the extra mile to achieve them. I think he’s an asset in this company, I think he has a bright future, I think it’d be too rash to involve the legal system before pursuing other routes on a singular mistake.”

“One final question, Ms. L/N?”

“Of course.”

“Are you and Mr. Wang in a romantic relationship of any kind.”

The silence pierced your ears. Your eyes fell to the empty counter in front of you. You sat in limbo between the truth and the option which would be the most advantageous. And in that moment, you understood why managers lie.

“No. We are not.” “Thank you, Ms. L/N. I’ll call you if I have any further questions. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Your hand immediately reached for the fridge, gaining an appetite suddenly for something specific. As soon as you pulled the fridge doors open, the smell hit you. Rotten, moldy, sour.

Your eyes landed on it immediately, you pulled it out of the fridge and unwrapped it from its plastic bag. Popping open the lid, just to make sure, you saw six round mochi chocolate dumplings resting in the box. And the sight brought tears to your eyes. 

He saved all six. 

You left him in the middle of the restaurant, told him to enjoy them. You’re sure he would have since he loved the other dumplings. And he waited – for you. He had them packaged, held onto them with your bag, gave them to you at the hotel, and let you have the opportunity to enjoy them. 

And for all his kindness, you let them rot in your fridge.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

In any good story, the writer uses nature to symbolize the internal emotions of their protagonist. As you walked through the parking lot under the proud sun that was pre-gaming the summertime at the end of April, it dawned on you that you must not be the main character. 

Thankfully the air conditioner was working when you stepped through the doors. Unlike other bad days that you’d had. This was a kind of mundane day — not good, not particularly bad. You did all your office work, called a couple companies, checked Heeseung’s brand reputation, answered emails, looked at potential partnerships, all the normal things. 

Lee Heeseung: Proya asked if I could stay an extra day to finish the shoot. They had an issue with one of the sets.

You: Why are you telling me this? It's Proya’s job to contact me about scheduling changes.

Lee Heeseung: Oh

Lee Heeseung: I’m sorry

Lee Heeseung: I guess expect them to contact you soon then

You dropped your head onto the surface of your desk. You hadn’t meant to make him feel dejected or scolded. You’d been doing that too much lately. Speaking without thinking. Speculating without rationalizing.

You: It’s no worries, Heeseung. I’ll have your flight rescheduled and the information sent to you shortly. Don’t worry about moving hotel rooms, I’ll extend your stay as well. 

Lee Heeseung: Ok thx

Your hands flew across your laptop keyboard: rescheduling the flight, extending his stay, informing the security and the driver, responding to Proya’s request, anything. Anything to keep your mind off how you hurt him. 

And maybe by “him” didn’t mean the model who had completely changed your life in the matter of minutes after meeting him. Maybe it meant the dancer who was fatefully bound to you through a string of numbers plastered on your arm. The one you denied being in relation with despite the universe plainly telling you that you were each other’s future forever. 

And that guilt gnawed at you harder that night as you drank straight from the lip of the peach soju bottle from your fridge.

It gnawed at you before you took the first sip: you denied that you were in a romantic relationship with the person you’ll spend the rest of your life with.

It gnawed after the next two: Might as well have said you didn’t love him.

Then after 120 milliliters: But you don’t love him do you? 

And then 240 milliliters: You’re supposed to but you don’t — loving him feels like a chore. You’re a pathetic excuse for a soulmate. 

But the bottom of the bottle revealed just how monstrous you truly were: Heeseung never made you feel like that. Like it was hard to love him. No, no, loving him was so easy. He flashed you a smile, spoke to you in that soft sultry voice, treated you like a princess, like he cared. 

Cared? A model that cared? For you? 

Heeseung loved you like you loved Nicho? Falsely. Because you were supposed to; because you got something out of it; because it was in your best interests.

But you loved Heeseung like you’d never loved any other man. And it was so stupid — so childish — that he won your heart over with a look that conveyed that he cared about you and a box of mochi dumplings he saved for God knows what reason.

You’d been on dates with Nicho, you’d kissed Nicho, you’d planned marriage with Nicho and you still didn’t think of him with the same fondness you did Heeseung. A man who you’d  barely had conversations with — certainly not personal ones. 

You chased the peach soju with the big, salty, guilty tears that cascaded on your cheeks.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

You: Your schedule will be busy when you get back so please be prepared. I’ve continued your brand deal with Qrsessed and you’ll have a photoshoot and video shoot to promote their contact lenses. ELLE Korea is also picking up the shoot and is printing it in their magazine. You will be on the cover. I have all of the logistics including the times for everything in the link below.

You: https://calandar.com

Lee Heeseung: Wait, can we reschedule the fitting to the day before or after?

You: I can try to, yes. Why?

Lee Heeseung: I’m just busy that day

You: What on Earth could you possibly be doing for the entirety of Tuesday?

“Y/N.” Your old boss from BigHit called your name.

“What?” You snapped unintentionally?

The look they gave you would’ve turned you to salt with all the fire it had behind it.

“You know,” He spoke in his default passive aggressive tone, “Dressing in a suit with your hair curled and your makeup done doesn’t make you a professional. It doesn’t make people respect you.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks and kept your eyes from his.

“Lose the attitude, put on a smile, and pretend like you have everything under control even if you don’t.” You swallowed thickly as he reached the conference door, “You’re a public relations manager Y/N, lying is in the subscript of your job description.”

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

The last thing you wanted to see when you opened your apartment door was your boyfriend. Your soulmate. But there he was with a stupidly happy grin etched on his face as he jumped up from your couch.

“Baby! Baby, you’re never gonna guess what happened!” He all but squealed in excitement. You left no reply, just expected him to continue. “Hybe Japan let me off with a warning that if it ever happened again, they would take legal action, but for now I’m good.”

“Huh,” You mumbled, “Did they say why?”

“Uh, well I think they said they reviewed the benefits of taking legal action against me and the benefits of keeping me on as a performer. They said someone pointed out that the second option is a much more fruitful investment long term than the first. Isn’t that great?”

“Yes, Nicho. That’s great.” Your bag landed on the arm of your couch before slipping onto the floor.

“And look! Nothing bad happened to your job either. You were worried for nothing.”

“Excuse me?” You whipped your head toward him, his words weren’t even malicious, they weren’t even all that wrong, but they flipped a switch that wouldn’t flip back down, “Nicho, who do you think vouched for you? Who do you think told them that keeping you as an asset was better than suing you for money you don’t have?”

The grin on his face fell along with the temperature. You shouldn’t have brought up the money when you know he hates that you make more than him.

“Yes. Nothing happened to my job but you don’t want to know what I did to make sure that it didn’t. To make sure that you got off scot free and that I didn’t tarnish the reputation I have been building for three years.” Your voice was so grave, so deep, you almost sounded like a different person.

You shoved the suit coat of your body.

“What do you mean? What did you do?”

“I finally have a position that means something in this company.” You ignored his question, words spilling out like WhiteOut, hoping the more there are the more you can cover the words you accidentally spoke; but it would never erase them. “A lot of it is by sheer luck, you know? With management always filtering out, I got promoted through necessity. And finally, I had a chance to prove myself and my value and I did. And I got the opportunity of a lifetime!” You laughed humorlessly, throwing your hands up to gesture the magnitude of your words, “I get to manage one of the most successful models in Hybe and you put that in jeopardy!”

“Can you stop saying that?” He asked, anger framing his tone, “You didn’t have to vouch for me but you did. Don’t blame that on me.”

“What because I had a choice? My soulmate or my job? I love my job Nicho, I love it dearly, but you are my soulmate, so…”

“‘So’ what?” He folded his sleeved arms, “You love your job but you love me more? Yelling at me is a funny way of expressing that.”

“I’m not confessing my love for you Nicho, I’m saying the choice isn’t fair.”

“So, you’re saying that you don’t love me.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, “Wha— What are you talking about?!” Your voice came out pitchy. 

“Yeah, that's it.” He spoke as if he had revealed the world's greatest mystery which he knew all along, smug and over-confident, “You don’t love me. That’s what this is about. You love your job more than your own soulmate.”

You only stared at him like he was trashing everything you’d built. And in a way, maybe that’s exactly what it was. Compromising the foundation of your career; blurring the future you’d mapped within your head; disproving your undying devotion for him.

“Let me ask you a question, Y/N. If I wasn’t your soulmate would you have vouched for me? Or would you have left me to deal with this all by myself? Do you not even love me enough as a human to help me?”

Your answer died on your tongue as your phone began to ring. You rolled your eyes, wishing — praying — that people would stop calling you after work hours. That was until you saw the ID. You accepted the call immediately, paying no mind to the walking steam train in front of you.

“Hello? Heeseung are you alright?” You spoke quickly due to the adrenaline still coursing through you.

“Heeseung?” Your boyfriend mumbled, an irritated grimace pulling at his features.

“Hey, Y/N,” Heesueng spoke softly, “Listen uh, the plane I was on… We were sitting on the runway for like two hours and they just announced that there’s a light on the dashboard. They can’t fly this plane tonight and they won’t have any flights until the morning so… I need another night in the hotel. I know this is last minute but…”

“No, no, no. Don’t worry about it Heeseung, I’ll get on that right away.”

“Why do you talk to him like that?” Nicho asked bitterly. You only sent him an unimpressed look.

“Who was that?” Heeseung’s voice had an edge to it.

“It’s nobody, Heeseung. Listen I’ll—”

“Nobody?” Nicho laughed humorlessly and loudly too, “Tell that pretty boy that you love so much that this ‘nobody’ is your soulmate. How about you do that? Or are you too embarrassed?”

“Y/N…”

“Nicho, this is not the time. Heeseung do you have—”

“Heeseung, Heeseung, Heeseung. Is that what this is about?” He moved closer to you, “Is this why you love your job so much? Is this why you love it more than me? Because of him?” His voice got dangerously low. His steps pursuing you toward the kitchen.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“How much have you two done together?” Nicho asked the question as if it pained him, “Was that business trip to Shanghai even real?”

“Yes, of course it was real, Nicho. Don’t talk to me like you know what my job entails. You can’t even do your own properly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means, Nicho. And don’t act like you would still have a job right now if it weren’t for me.”

“What did you do then? What did you do that I wouldn’t wanna know?” He recalled your words from earlier, making your heart drop and your fingers itch to end the call. Heeseung couldn’t know. He couldn't find out. He couldn’t find out how awful of a person you were.

“Drop it, Nicho.”

“No, what did you do? Did you sleep with my boss? Like you slept with Heeseung? Is that the ‘luck’ you were talking about earlier?”

Both your vision and your cheeks filled with a flaming red. 

“What is wrong with you?!” You nearly screeched, dropping your phone to your side.

“That’s it isn’t it? You’ve been sleeping around to get what you want and you’re embarrassed. Did Heeseung know? Or did he and I both find out you’re a slut together on the same night.”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone, Nicho.” Your voice crackled with pent up emotions forcing their way out, “I haven’t slept with anyone because I was waiting for my soulmate. You wanna know what I did? The thing you wouldn’t like? I denied our relationship so that whatever I said about your character would be taken seriously.”

Suddenly, after his accusations, what you did didn’t seem all that bad.

“I lied for you. I told them you didn’t have a drinking problem, I told them you were a good asset, I told them that we weren’t together.”

“Did you tell them you didn’t love me too? Did you tell them that you’re so small hearted you can’t even love the only person you were ever meant to?”

You bit your lip and prayed the water in your eyes would go away if you just took a deep breath.

“Have you told Heeseung that? You’re embarrassed of your own soulmate? What does that say about you? You’d go seeking the comfort of another man while knowing exactly who your heart is supposed to belong to? Or was he under the impression that you were single too?”

“Just get out of my apartment, Nicho. I have work to do.”

“So that’s it? Just like that? You’re choosing him over me?” He laughed pitchy and it scratched at your ears, “Man…” He breathed out, disbelievingly as he walked to the door of your apartment. “I hope the sex is good.” 

The door slammed, ending his sentence and ending the hold you had on your emotions. You dropped to your knees and let the tears spill out of your eyes. You shakily held your phone, fumbling through the buttons. 

Just find the Hotels.com app. 

“Y/N are you alright?” Heeseung’s voice emitted gently from the speaker. It ripped an embarrassing cry from your throat. This was embarrassing. You are an embarrassment.

“Um, I’ll have your hotel booked.” Gone was your manager voice; gone was your pride in your puddle of humiliation on the floor of your unswept apartment.

“Y/N, I don’t care about the hotel. I care about whether you're okay or not.” His voice was stern but it was eons away from being mean.

“I’m sorry,” You strained your voice, begging and pleading yourself not to cry, “That was really unprofessional. You shouldn’t have had to hear that.”

“Oh, Y/N…” You could envision the face he was making; his eyebrows upturned and those dark brown eyes carrying all the sorrow you feel in your heart, “I’m sorry. No one should talk to you like that. No one, at all. Let alone your own soulmate.”

You pressed purchase on the hotel and exported the receipt to Heeseung.

“It’s okay, Heeseung.” You sniffled, “Your hotel information is on the receipt. I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you have a ride? Do I need to book that? I can call you an Uber?”

“Y/N,” His voice anchored you in the midst of the rocky waves, “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay…” You swallowed, hoping to alleviate the frailty of your voice, “Goodnight, Heeseung.”

“Goodnight,” His voice cut off as if he was about to say something else. Goodnight, Y/N? Goodnight, Manager? Goodnight….

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

You vaguely registered the dryness of your eyes as you checked the clock on the bottom right of your laptop screen. He should be here by now. You’re not sure if he’d walk into the building. He doesn’t need to be here today. He has no reason to be here. So, it’d be fine. He wouldn’t see you. 

And after an hour of waiting in bated breath, you were right. He didn’t come see you. And you lied to yourself — saying you were wholly and completely relieved — but there was a part of you that wasn’t. A part of you that longed to see his gentle brown eyes, his soft tan skin, his chiseled jawline, his prominently defined Adam’s apple, and his plump pillowy lips. The features he got paid millions of dollars a year for. 

Even more than his indescribable beauty, you longed to hear that angelic voice of his. The voice that comforted you in the darkness of your apartment and the laugh that made the air feel lighter. That was the voice your heart lurched to hear.

Your mind would replay the softness in the way he said your name — how it sounded as if it were precious to him, like if you said it too loudly or too harshly it would break and fall apart. That sweet, sweet voice followed you all day until you walked to the lobby and it suddenly wasn’t in your head anymore.

“Thanks man,” He laughed lightly and clapped another man on the back, “I owe you big time.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it, bro.” The other man shook his head.

It was the first time you were seeing him with his new hair. It was bleached platinum blond and he left it messily unstyled — somehow he still looked perfect. All in a graphic hoodie and shorts with a green cap snapped around one of the belt loops. He was effortlessly attractive and it enthralled you completely. You debated whether or not to call out to him and ask him what he was doing here until you hesitated for too long and forfeited the choice. 

Heeseung’s soft brown eyes caught sight of you as he casually turned in your direction. It was jarring the way your mind became existentially aware of how the scene looked to others. Model Heeseung in his casual outfit that cost well over the monthly rent you paid for your quaint apartment, Marketing Agent You in your newly purchased suit that looked much more expensive and intimidating than it actually was. 

A model who knew way too much about his agent and an agent who knew way too little about her model.

“Y/N! Hey…” He turned to his friend and bid him adieu before jogging over to where you stood, clutching your work bag like a lifeline, “How are you?”

His voice was exactly as you remembered: soft, gentle, and caring. 

“Um,” You stammered, “Fine. No, I’m fine.” You nodded as if it would make your words any more convincing. It was obvious, as his eyebrows pinched slightly together, that you were only embarrassing yourself further, “What are you still doing here?”

All at once, concern turned into sheepishness, a dead giveaway being the way he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I uh, I was working on a project.” He nodded though he kept his eyes away from yours.

It took you a moment to consider his words, “Project? You don’t have a project today? I kept your schedule clear today.”

“Not a modelling project…” There was a gleam in his eye that you’d never seen before. A gleam that conveyed a child-like wonder that only comes from a lifelong passion.

“Okay…” You dragged the sound out before raising a brow and looking intensely into those sparkling browns, “Well, are you gonna tell me or…?”

“You wanna know?” He perked up immediately, a bright smile on the verge of breaking through.

“Of course, I do.”

And that smile came in full force as he grabbed your bag from you and circled your wrist in his large hand. He led you down the elevators buzzing with excitement barely contained as you dropped down two floors. He led you through a hallway of rooms until he pushed open the door to a vacant music studio. His hands guided you into the producer’s chair and handed you a headset — all before you could register the room you were in.

“Are you ready?” He bit his lip to control his smile but his happiness was so evident it might as well have been tangible. 

You let out a small giggle, “Of course but what am I getting ready for?”

“Oh!” His lips formed a perfect circle, “I… I think it’s better if you just listen.” 

And with that you placed the headset over your ears and watched his middle finger tap on the space bar of his laptop.

Immediately, an onslaught of tracks filled your ears. A musical mix of rock of dubstep and various elements of other genres flowed together in a unique blend that had the touch of a natural born genius.

Then you heard it. The voice which you loved so dearly filtering through the speakers of the headset, dropping your jaw and paralyzing every crevice of your mind in shock. And it stayed agape even after it ended and you turned to look at him like a deer in headlights. 

“The lyrics are a work in progress…” He laughed bashfully, “But the ‘ride or die’ part is there to stay.”

He looked at you expectantly and not in the way you’d think he would. He didn’t look like he expected you to shower him in compliments and tell him that he’s created a true masterpiece; he looked at you as if he expected you to tell him to put the mic down and focus on his reflection in the mirror.

“Heeseung, this is insane! Like insanely incredible! Do you want to be an artist?”

“Uh… yeah. I do.” His ears, chest, and cheeks flushed a pretty rouge.

“Why did you become a model then?”

He looked down at his feet before answering.

“I tried to get a music contract with Belift but they thought I’d be better as a model so I kinda just… gave up.”

“But you picked it back up again?”

“I never stopped learning to produce. I never could.” His eyes poured into yours, “I loved it too much.”

You smiled brightly — proudly — and stood up, grabbing his shoulders.

  “Send me your demo,” You spoke in a gravely serious tone, “And any other demos you have. I have a meeting next Tuesday and I will get you that music contract Heeseung. Trust me.”

The look he gave you was unlike any other. As if you were an angel sent from Heaven just for him.

“Really?” His voice small, like the flame of a candle before it burns out but his eyes… his eyes were full. Full of hope, full of joy, full of adoration.

“Yes.” You kept your hands on his broad, strong shoulders, pushing the thought of circling them around his neck from your mind. A thought that persisted even as you pulled your hands away.

“I have to go,” You grabbed your bag from the table, “But we’re gonna make this happen, Heeseung.” You stopped at the door and turned to him. “Tell me that you want this and I will fight with everything I have to achieve it for you.”

He leaned against the table, everything he felt in his heart was translated through the look in his eyes, “I want this more than anything.”

You nodded and offered him a smile that felt more like a promise.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

It ran through your head in circles for the next half-week. Between reviewing the edited photo options for Proya, captions for Heeseung’s social media, plans to open up more platforms for him, emails for photoshoots schedules, root touch-up appointments, plans for future events, you somehow managed to hop on Canva and make a pitch.

The presentation was relatively simple, leaving room for Heeseung’s musical genius to contend for itself. Clipped parts of his demos were pasted onto the presentation — only 15 seconds each and only the parts that gathered the full essence of the song. You spent hours picking the right parts, listening to the songs over and over, being diligent and considerate in your choices. 

For Ride or Die it was easy to choose the right part — the chorus was addictive. For Overflow, there were so many parts that stuck like glue in your mind which made it harder to choose the best section to clip. Dial Tragedy was short but there was still a lot to work with, a lot to decide within the nearly minute and a half ringtone. There was one demo you hadn’t even looked at yet.

You fell on your couch and took a breath, eyes closed and ears full of the soft blow of the air conditioner. The surface of your laptop was cold when you picked it up and placed it in your lap, opening the Google Drive and clicking on the demos. You finally moved onto the last one — its name cut off by your minimized tab – reading Highway 10….

The melody of the guitar and the silky vocals came almost at the same moment. The lyrics were characterized by a love that was wholly and completely consuming. A love that disregarded the woes of life and resided in the space cultivated by their devotion for one another. It was a song that resonated and echoed in the chambers of your heart.

An echo of admiration.

An echo of fondness.

An echo of longing.

An echo of sadness.

The song was beautiful but it was clearly dedicated to someone specific. And that shouldn’t have been surprising to you. That Heeseung had a soulmate. Of course he had a soulmate. He was remarkable in both body and spirit. He had a soul pure enough to cleanse those who caught even a glimpse of it. He was nothing like anyone you’d ever met and he was everything you’ve ever dreamt of.

He had a face that would have brought Aphrodite to her knees.

He had a way with words that would have compelled Shakespeare to set down his pen.

He had a voice that would have drawn every siren to his side like moths to flames.

Like how you were drawn to his side. 

The spiraling thoughts welled tears on your eyes and drew the music blank in your ears. Why did this happen?

You’d never cared about models — this was just your job. Not with Yeonjun, not with Soobin, not with Beomhyu, nor Taehyun, nor Kai. 

You’d never cared about looks, or big brown eyes, or shiny smiles, or voices, or words, or actions, or denim jackets, or mochi chocolate dumplings, or midnight phone calls. You’d only cared about marks. Only about the numbers that rose onto your skin at 13. You only cared about Fate and the man who’d share the same set of numbers until your death.

The ones which bloomed red after you met Nicho.

The ones you desperately tried to scrub off of your arm after you’d drunk just a bit too much to think clearly.

The ones you used to caress gently and not scratch violently.

The ones that used to bring you comfort and whisper promises of a future but now fill you with dread and remind you of the prison you should get comfortable in — be it with Nicho or without him.

One thing was certain about your future, you’d be on Hangang Avenue driving yourself to work and Heeseung would be holding his soulmate on Highway 1009.

Every ounce of breath depleted from your lungs in an instant. 

It was embarrassing how your heart filled with an inflated hope and your hands shook as they moved to the sleeve on your arm. Tugging on the thin fabric, the bright red numbers appeared in succession.

9 — the curves you’d seen for years seemed to look like a novelty.

0 — the quantity of the amount of breaths you’d taken since you touched your sleeve.

0 — your fingers shook violently as you reached the precipice of the final number.

1 — thousands of questions filled your mind like the breaking of a dam. 

How is this possible? What does this mean? Why would he write a love song with the same number as your soulmate mark? Does he have the same one? Do you have the same mark? Are you soulmate? But Nicho has the same one too? Is it possible to have two? Is there a highway called 1009? Are you overthinking this? Will this hope fall away like autumn leaves?

Your hands flew across your laptop, typing in the Twitter website, and searching ‘EVAN’ and searching through the photos tab. You searched every inch of his body futility — you knew better than most that a model desired by so many would not be allowed to show a mark that would confirm their exclusivity. You searched nonetheless; through photoshoots, Instagram posts, and fan photos until your eyes grew sandpaper-y.

Without thought, your fingers moved across the keyboard, typing as if they moved on their own.

The Google search bar held the question you were terrified to find the answer of: “Is it possible for multiple people to have the same soulmate number sequence?” No. There are no recorded instances of there being more than two living individuals with the same soulmate sequence of numbers.

Again you frantically typed out: “Highway 1009”

There is no highway 1009. Did you mean Gyeongbu Expressway?

So that was it then. Nicho was your soulmate and Heeseung coincidentally wrote a love song with the same number. It must represent something else. It must be a real highway somewhere. It must be a quantity. It must be a date. It must be a coincidence. 

Coincidence. That’s what it was.

It had to be.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

“From the moment he got contracted under Belift Lab in 2020, Lee Heeseung has been an irreplaceable asset. He, alongside the other six contracted models, have established Belift Lab as a respectable and renowned company within South Korea, Mainland China, Japan, and Globally. Although Belift predominantly manages models and scouts for new talent, the company has the resources to explore other routes for talent. Especially considering the in-house producers and composers at Hybe Corps disposal.”

You’d found yourself in a similar position just a few weeks ago. With a dozen pairs of cold eyes staring more into your soul than at the powerpoint you’d spent hours putting together. 

“Expanding into other areas of entertainment is a venture that Belift Lab has yet to do, however I believe having Lee Heeseung as the prospect for this endeavor would produce many fruitful results, including both revenue and reputation. I hav—”

“Pause.” You’d recognize that tone anywhere. The one that demands attention and leaves no room for negotiation. “Are you suggesting that Lee Heeseung change his contract from a model to a soloist?”

“‘Change’?” You repeated, “I’m not sure a full transition is necessary? I believe it’s possible to work both into his schedul—”

“We’ve already considered this path with Heeseung himself.” Kim Taeho, the CEO of Belift Lab, informed, “Did he persuade you to pitch the idea to me again? Quite frankly, I don’t care whose mouth it comes from — I don’t like the ramifications of the idea.”

The room was silent as you took a breath but your mind was anything but silent, “No sir, Heeseung did not persuade me to pitch this idea to you. As I only became his manager a month ago, I was unaware that he had brought this idea to you. I decided of my own accord to bring it to the board’s attention because I believe that Heeseung’s interest in pursuing this field could bring much fruit to this company. It’s one I hope you’d be willing to consider now or in the future.”

With the intensity in which your heart was beating, you were nervous that you’d be unable to hear his response. 

Luckily, that fear was irrational.

You’d found that most of your fears were and yet, you still found yourself breathing shallowly when that song repeated in your head for the millionth time. 

You: Heeseung, are you busy right now?

Lee Heeseung: ?

Lee Heeseung: You’re the one with my schedule lol

Lee Heeseung: Don’t tell me you forgot ://

You rolled your eyes playfully at his banter.

You: I know you don’t have anything scheduled but you have your hobbies, you know?

Lee Heeseung: True… I’m near the building. I can be in your office in 10 minutes.

You: Great, I’ll see you in 10

Your phone buzzed as soon as you put it down.

Lee Heeseung: Right…

Lee Heeseung: Remind me where your office is?

The time seemed to stretch beyond its capacity before he knocked on your office door. A smile was already plastered across his face before the door was even fully ajar. You gestured for him to take a seat in front of you and as he did, you recognized the dynamic. From the height of your office chair and the distance between your big wooden desk, it was more obvious than it had ever been. 

Lee Heeseung was your employee; you were his boss.

The thought sobered your mind to the point where you stared directly into those sparkling eyes and didn’t see the numbers 1009 behind them.

You looked away from them anyway; those dark browns and their expectations, their hope, their adoration. Emotions too close to the four letter word you were trying so desperately to ignore.

“Right,” You breathed out, “I just got out of meeting with the Belift Lab board of directors.”

Heeseung flexed his fingers over his knees where his hands rested. 

“I pitched the idea of a soloist contract to them, but Heeseung I have a question.”

A shadow of fear passed over his face, “What?”

“You didn’t tell me you had already tried to advocate for a contract. Why?”

His eyes shifted away from your figure entirely. You could almost visibly see the walls building up around him.

“I um… Well, I failed so…” 

“Failed is not the term I would use.” 

“What would you call it then?” He asked defeatedly.

“According to Kim Taeho, you pitched the idea relentlessly and you were given approval for the contract to be drawn. But, this is the part I’m confused about,” You admitted, “Your manager quit the very next day? Which is why the contract was never officially drawn?”

Heeseung drew a breath and released it heavily, “He said that he wasn’t interested in non-model exclusive contracts. He said that getting my foot in as a successful soloist would be a grueling job and would come with scrutiny that he didn’t care to manage.”

The wound to his heart was nearly visible — there might as well have been blood spilling out onto his shirt.

“Right. So, he was too lazy to manage a solo career for you and quit the next day?” You sighed and rolled your eyes, “Had he heard any of your music? Does he know how large your fanbase is?”

He shrugged his shoulders with his face downcast.

“Heeseung,” He lifted his eyes to your own, “I told you that I’d do everything in my power to get this contract for you. I didn’t plan to stop there.” You crossed your legs, “Do you know Choi Yeonjun from BigHit?”

He nodded, “We knew each other when we were younger.”

“You know he’s a model and a soloist, right? I assisted his manager for a year and a half before I took the position as your manager. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” 

He fought back a sheepish smile; you returned it with a comforting one.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing in the studio, tell me what help you need, and I will make sure the world hears your music. Don’t worry about that part.”

He nodded and Van Gogh’s Starry Night didn’t sparkle like his eyes did in that moment. 

“Thank you,” He whispered softly. Getting up out of his chair, causing you to watch as he hesitated with every step toward your office door. 

“Oh, Heeseung?” You called out to him, watching as he turned around with anticipation swimming in his gaze, “When did your manager quit?” 

He sighed frustratedly, “March 10th.”

You rolled your eyes at that fateful Tuesday, “Gosh, okay great. I guess everyone had a horrible March 10th then.”

He laughed and looked expectedly at you, “What happened to you?” An amused smile played on his plump lips.

You leaned against your desk and crossed your arms, “Some tenant in my apartment building decided to make popcorn at five in the morning. And then burnt it. So I woke up to the fire alarm, not my actual alarm.”

You smiled at his silly laugh.

“And then by the time I left, got gas, and arrived at the building, I was beyond late. My boss chewed me out for it which was extremely embarrassing.” You rubbed your forehead as he continued to laugh at your story, “I even bumped into someone in the hallway? Which was just the cherry on top.”

You considered that for a moment, too lost in thought to notice the sudden lack of noise. 

“You know? I guess it wasn’t such a bad day.” You shrugged and tuned to feel his heavy gaze, “I got sent to help the new Hybe Japan dance team get their headshots and profile photos taken for the company website. That’s where I met my soulmate — Nicho.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows suddenly creased confusedly, “You mean, again?”

You mirrored his look with your own confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Heeseung shifted awkwardly where he stood, “Because you guys broke up, right? And now you’re back together?”

You sat in confusion for a millisecond, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You recalled the phone call you had with Heeseung that night Nicho stormed out of your apartment, “Nicho and I fight but we’ve never broken up. And that call that we had,” You swallowed thickly, “The things that Nicho said about me, they aren’t true. I’ve never—”

“I know.” He crossed his arms, his face suddenly steeling, “Wait so, you’re telling me that you and Nicho met on March 10th?”

“Yeah,” You confirmed, “I was talking to him and, if you remember that was the day the A/C was broken, so I pulled up my sleeve and my mark was red.” You recalled the moment clearly, “Then Nicho pulled his sleeve up and had the same mark.”

Heeseung’s eyes held wells of concern within the depths of his eyes, “Y/N,” He licked his lips as if the words were too hard to say.

“What is it?” You straightened your posture as if it could guard you from whatever he was about to say, “You’re scaring me…”

“When I was still being scouted, I heard a lot about the Hybe Japan incoming talent from my friend EJ,” He spoke slowly, as if it would lessen the blow, “Of course, that means I heard a lot about Nicho.”

Your breath caught in your lungs; a grey cloud already began to form above your head.

“Y/N, Nicho’s soulmate cheated on him before I even became a model…” Heeseung stammered over his next words, “I assumed since you called him your soulmate that you guys had fixed your relationship and it honestly wasn’t any of my business so I tried not to think about it too much. But if you’re telling me that your soulmate mark turned red the day you met Nicho on March 10th, then either Nicho lied about his ex-girlfriend being his soulmate or…” 

The words fell dead on his lips and rose to life on yours.

“Or he lied to me about being my soulmate.”

Heeseung released a breath of air, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You clenched your jaw, desperately trying to recall how many times you’d seen Nicho’s soulmate mark — he always wore long sleeves. You pushed a hand through your hair before grabbing your work bag and walking toward the door. Heeseung’s strong arms stopped you from walking past him.

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Heeseung,” You spoke with your eyes closed, a visible sign that you were holding back emotions that had reached a dangerous peak, “Please. Please let me go.”

He hesitated for a moment, kept his mouth agape as if he had more he wanted to say, but he dropped his hands nonetheless. 

He watched you walk out of your office like watching a car drive off on a highway.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

The banging echoed through the entire apartment until it went quiet again. As soon as the echoes dissipated, they returned. Again and again until the door swung open. His dark eyes held a warmth that could only be replicated by a refrigerator. 

“Have you finally decided that your boytoy isn’t enough for you?”

The words held so much more meaning behind them knowing what his ex-girlfriend did. You felt bad for him, you understood him. But that wasn’t what you were worried about right now.

“Nicho, show me your mark.”

“What?”

“Show me your soulmate mark.”

“Why? You’ve seen it before.”

“Once. And I don’t remember what it looks like.”

He laughed sharply, “And you can’t look at your own arm to get the idea?”

You grabbed his arm, roughly, angrily, wrongly. But you weren’t thinking kindly in your desperation. “Show me.”

There’s only one thing you particularly remember about Nicho’s mark: it was horizontal. If you were to stick your arm out in front of you, the numbers run in tandem with the direction of your arm. Its why you can pull your sleeve up and see the numbers appear in succession: 9, then 0, then 0, then 1; which reads 1009 from left to right. 

Nicho’s isn't like that. His is horizontal, meaning that when he pulls his sleeve up, the bottom of all the numbers are there. The small line of the 1 and the round bottoms of the 009. You should’ve paid more attention the first time. Maybe it was your excitement that caused you to not notice that he hid the top of the numbers from view. You realized it this time as he pulled his sleeve until it almost revealed the full numbers. 

“See? We’re matching, baby.”

Before he could turn his gaze away from you, you pulled the last part of his sleeve to uncover the full number: 7009.

Bile in its purest acidic form rose to your throat, along with tears in your eyes. You stumbled back and tried to suck the air back into your lungs. You could barely hear him. Barely hear the desperate pleas that fell from his lips as you stumbled away from his apartment door. 

Y/N, please.

Just hear me out.

Listen to me, you don’t even know what happened?

After all the time we spent together, you’re just going to walk away?

Come back, please.

Please, please, come back to me.

As you drove away, his last words echoed faintly in your mind. And a part of you wondered if they were even meant for you.

You don’t know what you were thinking. It was beyond unprofessional — if HR ever found out you’d not only be fired but likely prevented from getting other job opportunities in the future. Somehow, none of that broke through the devastation hardening within your mind causing you to think irrationally. To act irrationally.

Because what sane person drives to the apartment of their client? 

What sane person punches the elevator button to his floor with tears flowing down their cheeks in steady streams?

What sane person knocks on his door, drunk on the thought of his strong arms wrapped around them?

The sight of him in a plain t-shirt and black basketball shorts and the most beautiful confused face you’ve ever seen sobered that thought from your head and drew a gasp from your mouth.

“Oh my— I’m so sorry— I didn’t—” You gestured stupidly with your hands, “I wasn’t thinking clearly. This is wildly unprofessional, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come. Please forgive me—” 

It was warm — he was warm — as his big hands moved to hold you. One finding its way behind your head and the other over your arm and around your middle, pulling you into his chest and nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

“Please, don’t apologize Y/N.” He nearly whispers, his voice like sweet honey to your ears, “I’m so sorry.”

You held your breath, hoping it would stop the cries that were clawing within your chest. It shouldn’t hurt this much. You hadn’t wasted that much of your life. You’d only known Nicho for a little over a month. You’d only known him since that awful Tuesday in March. The day when everything went wrong. 

You wondered what would happen now. You used to look down at those four little numbers and see a promise, then when you were with Nicho they felt like a cage, what would they be like now? Would that bright red ink mock you for everything you’d lost. 

March 10th: the day you’d met and lost your soulmate.

“Y/N,” Heeseung whispered so gently, you wondered if he even wanted you to hear him. You pulled back to look into his eyes. Your faces inches apart — too close, too far. He looked at you with the same reverence he always had, “The day I met my soulmate, I never caught her name. She was gone before I could even catch a glimpse of what she looked like.” His hands slid up to your face, as if losing contact with you would kill him, “I looked for her everywhere. In every hallway, in every room, on every floor.”

“Did you ever find her?”

“I thought I did,” He let out a ghost of a laugh, “But she had allegedly found her soulmate already.” He watched your lips turn downward, “And I thought that was it. She had sped past me like a sports car on a highway.”

He looked down at his feet for a moment, just as yours filled with empathy.

“I dreamt of that metaphorical highway every night. One where I’d find her again and pick her up, and hold her, and never let go.” The look in his eyes was so intense it felt magnetic. Like it was drawing you in deeper. “But then, you know that, don’t you? You heard my song?”

The melody played somewhere in the back of your mind and you hated how its mere tune flooded your heart with hope. 

“Of course…”

“Then tell me, Y/N.” His voice held an indescribable desperation, “Tell me, I’m wrong. Tell me your body isn’t marked with the same numbers I look for in every place. Tell me that demo means nothing to you and you didn’t feel this crazy connection like we were being pulled together by strings of Fate.”

You didn’t tell him anything. You just tugged at your sleeve. Watching his desperation increase with each number: 9… 0… 0… 1… until he was face to face with the number he’d become all too familiar with. 

His fingers grabbed the hem of his black shorts and pulled them up. In vibrant red ink, just above the knee, four numbers you’d never seen on anyone’s body but your own. You stared at them like they’d vanish if you blinked. Or worse, that the one would change into a seven or the nine would flip upside down.

His warm hands found their way back to your cheeks.

“It’s real,” He informed, as if he had read the transcript of your mind, “You’re real.” He said as if it was hard to believe. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks and somehow you managed to pull even closer together. 

“Tell me if it's too much, all at once, and I won’t kiss you.”

Your lips didn’t move but your eyes did, dragging down to his lips and locking them there. Of course, he knew exactly what that meant. 

His breath fanned against your lips, his nose brushed against your own. Then finally, they pressed against yours like a promise fulfilled. 

Like the colors gained their hue, every melody was joined by its harmony, and flowers were solely acquainted with blooming.

And as your lips parted from one another, they instantly found each other again. 

And maybe Heeseung was right about Highway 1009. 

He’d pick you up, hold you, and he'd never let you go.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──

Heeseung flopped onto the sofa, placing his freshly washed hair straight in your lap, all with a dramatic groan. Without hesitation, you tousled his hair and brushed your nails gently through it. 

“I just reviewed your answers for that W Korea interview.”

“Mm,” He mumbled sleepily, “What do you think?”

“Mm,” You’d picked up on his habit, “I liked the part where you said that the producers called you crazy for challenging all the traditional conventions in composing.”

Heeseung’s eyes flew open and he held the most deadpan look they could muster. It wasn’t his fault that he adored you too much to even pretend to look mad at you.

“So, you’re just going to ignore the part where I said I wrote Highway 1009 for you?”

“Hm,” You hummed, “I’m pretty sure you said ‘your soulmate’.”

Heeseung sat up and pushed his face inches before yours, “Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to call HR and tell them that EVAN and his manager are in a secret relationship?” He grew a wicked smile that only made him look more irresistible, “C’mon, Manager. You of all people should know how the public would take that.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, “You’re lucky you're cute, Evan.”

He smiled slyly and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Oh, I know I’m lucky.”

His kisses always felt breathtaking and magnetic, it didn’t matter if it was your first or your 1009th.

It’s in the way he’s always just had to be a step ahead of you. Like that time in the fifth grade when your teacher held a mock election for your government lesson, and he’d deliberately ran against you with the sole intention of annoying you. And when he won, he didn’t even do any of the things he’d promised! All he did was pass out whiteboards, and he always made sure to give you the one with the annoying black scribbles on them.

You went through high school like that, with him constantly one upping you in everything you did. He’d even almost beaten you for valedictorian, but you scored two and a half points higher than him on your AP Physics final and the spot was rightfully given to you. 

He didn't even seem mad about it, which made the entire thing even more infuriating. He’d spent years trying to prove he was better than you and didn't even flinch when it all amounted to nothing? What a tool.

University was supposed to be an escape. Not just from the mean high school girls and the boring small town you came from, but from him as well. You’d finally be able to breathe without him constantly hovering, you’d finally be able to relax without the constant worry that he was going to do something to ruin it.

So when you walked into your first day of classes at Decalis University, fully expecting to see no one familiar, you can imagine your absolute horror to see him sitting front and center like he owned the place.

He was already making good conversation with your professor, you could tell by how the older man was talking so admittedly with his hands and smiling like he couldn’t get enough of whatever it was Heeseung was talking about. 

That’s the thing about Heeseung, everyone around you always seems to think he’s this perfect, charming guy. They don’t see what he really is, not like you do. You seem to be the only person he decides to be his actual evil self with. Why he chose you, you aren’t entirely sure. You don’t think you ever will be.

But that was six months ago, and despite the giant Heeseung shaped stain on your university experience, the entire thing has been significantly better than high school. You don’t see him as much for starters, and when you do he seems too busy to actually try and annoy you. Not for a lack of trying though—those first few months were torture.

You’ve got an eight am class today, which means you have an excuse to make a stop at the coffee shop on campus. It’s right next to your dorm which is insanely convenient and definitely bad for your health, but you're a freshman in college. You don’t think you could name a single person who isn’t surviving off of cheap coffee and gas station noodles.

The line is long, which wouldn’t normally be an issue, but you’re running late and your professors decided he'll dock a letter grade for every tardy. You haven’t had to go through that pain yet, and you really don’t want to change that now.

You rock back and forth on your feet uncomfortably, the line seeming to move slower and slower. You almost consider saying fuck it and just going to class, but then you remember that you’re running off of two hours of sleep and decide you’d rather not fall asleep during your lesson.

It takes another ten minutes before you place your order, and then you’re solemnly waiting off to the side and trying to act like your nerves aren’t tangling up in your stomach.

“Long line, huh?”

You tense. You recognize that voice, and when you look up, the face that accompanies it is enough to ruin your entire morning more than it already has been. So much for not bothering you.

Sharp cheekbones, messy dirty blonde hair, big, beautiful shit brown eyes.

Your eyes narrow, lips curling downwards. At this point, you’re starting to believe your body's natural reaction to Lee Heeseung is immediate disdain. “Why are you talking to me?” You ask bluntly. No point in small talk with him, especially when you know he’s just trying to get under your skin by speaking to you.

He laughs, teeth on display as he does. “Are you this hostile with everyone when you first wake up?”

“Only people who annoy me.”

“I just made an observation, why would that annoy you?”

You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest. He knows exactly what he’s doing–he always has. His innocent act may work on every other person in this university, but not you. You know Heeseung, you know that getting under people's skin is his favorite pastime. You just wish you understood why he loves to do it to you specifically.

“Can you just…not? You know what you’re doing.”

“I promise I don’t.” The smirk threatening to break onto his lips says otherwise.

You take a deep breath and choose not to play into his game anymore. It’s pretty easy actually, because the barista calls out your name and you practically trip over your feet to grab it. You’ve got ten minutes to make it halfway across campus and into your lecture hall before you’re docked an entire letter grade. You’ve made it there with less.

You don’t bother saying goodbye to Heeseung, but you feel his gaze on you as you leave. Your skin prickles from the weight of it, but you don’t have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now. It’s too early for that.

Tonight’s the last game of the football season, which means practically the entire university showed up to the stadium to show their support, if support meant getting drunk off their asses.

You hadn’t planned to go, mostly because sports had never really been your thing, but Yunjin insists you have to come.

“It’ll be fun!” She pleads, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. She grabs your wrist and pulls on it, but you don’t budge from your spot at your desk. You told her that you had a big test to study for and that’s why you couldn’t go. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you didn’t really need to study, you already knew the material like the back of your hand.

You sigh and pull your arm from her grip, “I can’t do bad on this test, Yunjin. You know what’ll happen if I do.”

“Yes, yes, the big bad Heeseung will score higher than you and your entire life will be ruined. Believe me, I know.” She clicks her tongue and walks behind you so her hands can rest on your shoulders. “But I think Sunghoon would be so sad to see that you didn’t come to support him for his last game.”

You immediately tense, your face going hot and stomach flipping in ways you didn’t know were possible. Even just the mere mention of Park Sunghoon forces a physical reaction out of you. It’s honestly a little embarrassing.

Sunghoon is the kind of boy you read about in romance novels or watch romcoms about. He’s sweet, smart, and the kind of handsome you weren’t aware a person can actually be. And he does it all effortlessly, like being perfect is something he was just born with. It probably was.

It doesn’t help that he’s always going out of his way to talk to you. Study dates, coffee runs after class, texts about nothing in the middle of the night, all things that feel like a relationship but actually aren’t.

Yunjin keeps insisting that you go for it, and you know that it’s probably not going to be as scary as you’re thinking it will be. After all, all it would do is put a title on whatever song and dance it is that the two of you’ve been putting on for the past couple months.

“I doubt he’d notice if I was there or not.” You shrug, doing your best to seem casual and not like the thought of him has hearts forming in your eyes.

Yunjin squeezes your shoulder and spins your chair around so you’re forced to face her. Her red hair is pulled back into a ponytail, her brows furrowed in determination. She looks a little bit like some kind of strange love coach who takes their job way too seriously. “You’re going to this game.” She says firmly.

“I’m not.”

“That’s what you think.”

The stadium is loud, people talking over each other in the hopes their friends will be able to hear them. They don’t, which means people just talk louder. The lights are bright and overwhelming, and you almost feel claustrophobic with how close the seats are to each other, like whoever designed the place did it without any regard for personal space at all.

Yunjin and Jake are on either side of you, both of them way too invested in the game. You are too, but not for the same reasons as them.

Sunghoon got into Decalis on a football scholarship and is the school's best starting quarterback in fifteen years. Even though he has every right to have a big head about it, he’s so humble you don’t think the thoughts ever even crossed his mind. Someone always approaches him about it when you’re out together on campus, and every time without fail his cheeks go bright pink and he gets this bashful smile on his face. It’s one of the reasons you’ve fallen for him as hard as you have, because unlike most guys you’ve interacted with, he doesn’t seem to have much of an ego at all.

It’s a very welcome contrast to Heeseung.

You can see him on the field too, walking behind the players sitting on the bench and getting candid shots of them. Even though you hate admitting it, he’s always been a gifted photographer. His photos were always hanging up in local art shows or featured in your high school yearbooks. Strangely, it’s the only thing he doesn’t brag about, despite it being the only thing he deserves to. 

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” Jake yells, popcorn spilling from his lap as he gestures wildly. “That was our play!”

You give him a side-eye and sink further into your seat. You honestly couldn’t care less about this whole thing; you're just excited to see Sunghoon in his post-game glow as you like to call it. Damp hair, face glowing with a sheen of sweat, his chest still heaving from running up and down the field. The entire thing is admittedly your guilty pleasure.

Yunjin elbows your ribs gently, her chin poking out to the field. You follow her gaze and find Sunghoon with his helmet in hand, drinking out of a green gatorade bottle and laughing at something one of his teammates says. He looks perfect. He is perfect.

And if things go right, he’ll be yours.

By the time the game ends, you’re more than ecstatic to finally get out of your seat and see Sunghoon. Yunjin teases you the entire way down, but you barely notice her. Not when your heart is nearly fluttering out of your chest.

But when you get down there, it’s not Sunghoon you see. No, it’s something much worse.

Heeseung.

He doesn’t notice you at first, and you almost think you’ll be able to sneak around him, but then Jake decides it’s a good idea to open his big mouth and alert the enemy to your presence.

“Heeseung!” He calls, raising his hand in a wave. “What’s good, man?”

Heeseung looks up then, sharp eyes falling onto Jake, and slowly trailing over to you. He grins, all teeth and something akin to mischief, and casually makes his way over to your small group.

“Hey Jake,” he greets, jutting his chin out swiftly. “Yunjin.”

Yunjin returns the greeting politely. “Heeseung.”

She has no reason to be mean to him, but as your closest friend, she understands that she must, by international girl-code law, dislike anyone you dislike, which includes him.

He turns to you then, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes. He keeps the same smile on his face despite the way you glare at him. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You respond shortly. You don’t know why he even bothers trying to be nice to you in public, especially when he knows you're not going to return whatever sentiment it is he has.

He smirks like you’ve just said the funniest thing in the world. “Would it hurt you to be nicer?”

“Yes,” you respond easily. “It would, actually.”

He frowns and grabs at his shirt dramatically, right over where his heart is. “Always so mean.”

“You’ll live.”

He chuckles, reaching out and roughing up your hair. You smack his hands away and rush to fix it, palms smoothing down the parts he frizzed up. “Don’t do that!”

He ignores you and turns to talk to Jake about the game, and you can hear them say something about how the referees almost cost the team that last quarter, but you aren’t paying attention to that anymore.

Because behind Heeseung you can see a familiar head of damp black hair, thick eyebrows, and a perfect smile.

“Hey guys,” Sunghoon grins as he approaches. He’s ditched his football uniform and is instead wearing a black long sleeved compression shirt, and you swear your brain short circuits at the sight.

His attention falls to you first, just like it always does, and his smile widens just a fraction. Not enough for it to seem like anything else but a friendly gesture, but it doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering out of control or your cheeks from heating to near impossible levels.

“Hey!” You chirp a bit too loudly, hand shooting up in a wave.

“Nice game tonight, man!” Jake gushes, his hands moving animatedly. “The way you got that goal right at the beginning was insane! I swear, Penn didn't even know what hit them.”

Sunghoon grins and brings a hand up to his neck, the way he always does when somebody praises him, like he still can’t quite process the amount of attention on him. “Thanks, Jake. Seriously.”

“Those refs were awful though,” Yunjin throws in. 

The three of them end up in conversation about the game, all of them spewing out football lingo that you couldn’t be bothered to understand. Heeseung's still here too, just…lingering.

He’s friends with Jake and Sunghoon, yes, but he’s always on the sidelines. He’s been like that since high school. He’s friends with everyone, but he never lets them in. Doesn’t make any attempts to know them outside of a surface level friendship. 

It’s a little sad, honestly. But you stopped questioning the way his brain worked a long time ago. If he wanted to keep to himself, then that was perfectly fine by you. 

You don’t notice her approach, not until she’s sliding into the spot next to Sunghoon like she belongs there. Short black hair, bangs that frame her face like she was born with them, big brown eyes. Kim Chaewon is as beautiful as she is smart, and unbelievably kind. Not to mention she’d made cheer captain as a sophomore, and has kept the title all the way into her junior year.

“Hey, Hoon,” she says, voice sweet like honey. You know it shouldn’t, but something twists low and deep in your chest at the way she looks at him. Like she knows him. Like he belongs to her.

You expect him to greet her like he does everyone else. Always polite, but without the extra tenderness he saves for you. Without the small quirk of his lips or the subtle softening of his eyes, because that had always been yours. Your look.

Instead, when he looks at her, his lips quirk up, his eyes soften, and he snags a hand around her waist like he can’t imagine it being anywhere else.

You think this must be a joke. Not a very funny one, but a joke nonetheless. A tasteless prank. Because there is no way Park Sunghoon—the same Park Sunghoon that calls you in the middle of the night and insists he walk you home from class—has his arm around Kim Chaewon and is giving her the same look he gives you.

Yunjin looks just as shocked as you feel, but she’s never been as good at having a poker face as you. Her jaw drops, eyes going wide as she stares at the pair of them. “Um,” she laughs uncomfortably, “Sunghoon do you mind maybe… informing us as to who this is?”

Yunjin knows who Chaewon is, you know that. She's doing that thing she does where she tries to indirectly ask someone something without coming off as rude. For once, you're thankful for her weird methods.

Sunghoon clears his throat, his eyes flickering to yours for a split second before they return to Chaewon. “Right, uh,” he swallows, and you watch as his fingers flex at his side. A nervous habit. “This is Chaewon. We’ve been…seeing each other.”

You blink, your mind going a million miles a minute as you try to make sense of what he’s saying. The words are coming out of his mouth, and yet they still feel fake. Like a figment of your worst nightmare where the boy you’re in love with tells you he’s seeing someone.

“Seeing each other?” You repeat, voice raising in pitch. 

Chaewon nods, her lips curling up into a shy smile as she places a hand on Sunghoon's chest. “It was a recent development,” she chuckles.

You feel like you’re going to be sick.

Sunghoon smiles at her before removing his arm from her waist so he can gesture at the three of you. “How do you feel about dinner so Chae can get to know you guys? My treat.”

Chae. How long has this been going on for them to already have cute little nicknames for each other?

The thought of sitting at dinner with them sounds like torture. Having to sit there and watch him touch her? Smile at her? You don’t want to sound jealous (you are), but that’s supposed to be you. You’re the one he should be smiling at—you were the one! You can’t wrap your head around how he could suddenly be seeing someone when just last week he was smiling at you like you meant something to him?

Had you imagined it? Convinced yourself there was something there when he was just being friendly? But even Yunjin said he looked at you differently. Was she just feeding into your delusions?

Heeseung's voice pulls you out of your frenzy, and when you look up, he’s looking straight at you like he can read your mind. “Sorry, man,” he says, eyes staying on you for a moment longer before they shift to Sunghoon. “I’ve gotta get these pictures developed before they close the red room.”

Sunghoon waves him off, “don’t worry about it.” He says, “I’ll see you when we get home tonight. What about you guys?”

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to dinner with them. You can’t, like, physically can’t. You think you’ll die if you do.

Instead of saying that, or coming up with some kind of excuse, what comes out is, “I’m free.”

Yunjin's head snaps to you in shock, and then she blurts out a sudden, “same!”

Jake shrugs, “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Great!” Sunghoon grins, “let’s meet at that diner off of fifth? They’re usually open late.”

He walks away after that, hand in hand with Chaewon, and you watch them go while your heart sinks deep into your chest. She’s laughing at something he says, her free hand slapping his arm lightly, and he smiles down at her like she’s the only girl in his universe. The same way you thought he was doing to you.

“Well,” Heeseungs starts, his eyes finding you’d once again, like he can feel the hurt radiating off your body. He probably can. “Since when was that a thing?”

Jake shrugs the way most clueless men do. “No idea.”

The two of them walk away after that, and you’re thankful to be left alone with Yunjin.

“What the fuck?” She says, hands resting on her hips. “That’s gotta be a joke. Or maybe some kind of dare. I don’t fucking know, but there’s no way they’re actually seeing each other! He was literally blowing up your phone two days ago!” She snaps her fingers like she’s made some kind of profound discovery. "It must be some kind of spell. You know, I’ve always thought witches and magic were real–”

“Yunjin,” you interrupt, eyes already glassy and throat closing up with an onslaught of tears. You aren’t going to cry over him–that would be ridiculous, especially since you weren’t even dating, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt. If you’re being completely honest, it hurts like hell.

Yunjin notices immediately, and before you can process it, she’s throwing her arms around you and pulling you into her chest in the middle of the field. “I’m sorry, babe,” she sighs, “I really thought he was going to ask you out tonight.”

She’s not the only one. 

You just shrug, doing your best to mask your hurt, even though you know there’s no point when it comes to Yunjin. You’ve only known her for six months, yet she’s the only person who can read you like an open book. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she mumbles, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “But it will be. Because we’re going to show Sunghoon exactly what he missed out on.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and shrugging her off of you so you can make the trek back to your shared dorm. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugs, “you’ll see.”

You should question her. Should refuse to go anywhere with her until she tells you what her plan is, but you don’t do any of that. You trust Yunjin, and you know that while her methods may be strange, she does everything with good intentions. Besides, you doubt you won’t be able to handle whatever it is she’s cooking up.

The diner off of 5th is the only place that stays open after ten pm and still serves edible food. It’s a campus staple, which means it’s nearly always packed—especially after games. So, you aren’t too surprised that you have to weave through multiple bodies just to find the table Sunghoon had managed to snag for the five of you, and nobody comments when it takes you nearly five minutes just to make it from the front door to your seats.

“I’m starving,” Yunjin groans, her tongue swiping over her lips as she flips through the menu. The both of you know she’s just going to get the same thing she does every time, but she says she finds joy in looking unpredictable.

“Me too,” Sunghoon agrees. 

He looks good. Tired, but good. His hair is falling over his eyes in that dorky kind of way and he’s wearing his glasses—a rare sight. Normally, you’d be the only one doing this much analysis into his look, but when you glance over at Chaewon, she’s staring at him with a dopey grin on her face.

You frown and look down at your menu. You still don’t understand how this could’ve happened. It just didn’t make any sense. When you take out the part where you’re totally in love with Sunghoon, it still makes no sense for him to hide his apparent relationship with Chaewon. Was it a relationship? Are they even dating? Or are they just in that weird space between where you both know it’s going to happen, but they’re still choosing to dance around it?

You’d thought you were there with Sunghoon. You thought it was only a matter of time before he swept you off of your feet and confessed his love for you with some kind of grand, dramatic gesture.

But your life is clearly not a movie, because Park Sunghoon is reaching for Chaewon's hand under the table. His thumb is rubbing small, comforting circles into her skin, and she’s doing a very bad job at hiding her smile.

You shouldn’t have agreed to come.

Jake, for all his strange qualities, has always been observant (except when it comes to possible romantic partners), and he watches the entire exchange with narrowed eyes and bated breath. You’d never talked to him about your relationship with Sunghoon, but he (along with your nemesis) was the guy's roommate, so you assume he must've known that there was something going on between you. Unless you really are just delusional and everything had been entirely friendly.

“So,” Jake starts, wagging his finger towards the couple. “We’re so glad you’re here, Chaewon. Seriously. But I just can’t believe this is the first I’m hearing about…this. I mean, not to sound like a douche or anything, but I live with Sunghoon and he hasn’t brought you up once. He’s talked about–” his eyes find yours for a fleeting moment, before he clears his throat and tries to pretend it never happened. “It’s just kind of unexpected.”

Chaewon giggles, reaching a hand up and swiping her bangs over her forehead. They fall right back into place. “It was a recent development.”

Yunjin snorts, taking a sip from her cup with the kind of casual confidence you wish you had. “Clearly.”

If anybody catches the irritation in her tone, they don’t comment on it. 

“He actually hit me with a football during practice,” Chaewon laughs, bringing her arm up to rest casually behind Sunghoon. You can nearly make out her fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “It was the total opposite of a meet-cute. But it still worked out anyway, because he invited me to coffee as an apology and things just went from there.”

Coffee? He always takes you to coffee. Did they go to the same place you go to? Did he show her the secret menu that’s not really a secret? Did he joke around with your favorite barista like he does when he’s with you?

Your throat feels tight again, but you suck down a gulp from your drink and try to act like you aren’t on the brink of emotional collapse.

Yunjin smiles, but it looks forced. She taps your thigh once, like she’s warning you, but before you can question it, she’s already opening her mouth. “You know, that’s honestly kind of crazy. Two of my friends are getting into relationships at the same time. You’d think I’d get some of that luck too considering I seem to be the common denominator here, but nope!”

You blink. You love Yunjin, you really do, but outside of you the only other person you saw her consistently speak to is her pet gerbil. And even that was leaning into more of a casual situation lately.

Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise briefly, but he’s quick to lower them. “Really?” He mumbles. You can practically feel the curiosity radiating off of him. He’s always been way too nosy. “Who?”

The next few moments are still a bit of a blur in your mind. You remember feeling like someone had spilled a bucket of cold water on you, but when you ran a hand through your hair, it was completely dry.

Yunjin smiles, and she looks so innocent you almost believe the lie that rolls off of her tongue like honey. You probably would’ve if it didn't have to do with you. “[Y/N], you’ve been seeing someone recently as well, haven’t you?”

You nearly choke, eyes widening into saucers. You splutter for an answer, blinking rapidly as you do. “What? A relationship? I don’t–well, I mean–maybe–?” It’s not until Yunjin sends a swift heel to your shin do you manage to get out a full sentence. “Yes,” you squeak. “I have been…seeing someone. It’s very recent. Very new. Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are that it happened so quickly.”

The table goes silent for a moment, and you suddenly feel very, very exposed. You know Yunjin knows you’re a terrible liar, she witnessed it firsthand when you tried to lie about eating her leftover cheesecake, and yet she thought making you lie in a group setting would make your skills any better? If anything, it just made them ten times worse!

You’re waiting for the inevitable–for someone to give an uncomfortable laugh before attempting to move the conversation forward. Meanwhile, you’re going to pray to whatever is listening up in the sky for the floor to swallow you whole and for this day to have never happened.

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, the next few moments are probably the most confusing of your life. 

“That’s good, [Y/N],” Sunghoon says, smiling at you the way he does with everyone else. It’s not the smile you’re used to. Not the curl of his lips that would send butterflies fluttering around in your stomach and make your cheeks burst with color. This one is practiced, easy. Entirely wrong. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You pale, parting your lips to give some shitty excuse. Maybe your delivery man? You met when he was dropping off your amazon vibrator and he complimented you on the brand. A very plausible start to any college relationship, and it’d be easy to hide considering he’s not real. 

But before you can tell your made-up story, Yunjin beats you to the punch.

“Oh, you’re going to lose your mind. I know I did when she told me.” She laughs aloud, and when her eyes find yours, you suddenly wish you’d never even gotten out of bed this morning. Maybe finishing the course with a B wouldn’t have been so bad if it meant you got to avoid this terrible fate.

She leans forward on the table, lowering her voice into that soft teasing tilt she’s perfected. “She’s been seeing your other roommate. The one she apparently can’t stand.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his hands slamming on the table so he can lean against them and get a better look at you. He practically screams when he asks, “you’ve been seeing Heeseung?”

You should’ve just taken the dock off of your grade.

“Yunjin, do not come near me right now or I swear to God you’re going to be missing chunks of hair.”

She winces, hands immediately tugging on the red strands. “Anything but the hair! You know it’s my best feature.” She attempts to joke, but you’re having absolutely none of it.

“You realize they live with him, right? What happens when they ask him about his apparent relationship with me?” You snap, slamming the door to your dorm behind you. The walk here had been completely silent—or, at least, it had been from your end. Yunjin spent the entire time trying to act like she hadn’t just lied to all of your friends that you were dating Lee Heeseung. The one person in this world everyone knows you cannot stand.

She flops onto her bed and stretches her arms over her head. “They’re guys! They don’t talk about that kind of stuff. Jake didn’t even know Sunghoon was seeing Chaewon! Which, can we talk about that, actually? I mean, seriously, what the fuck? One second he’s taking you on these cute little dates and the next—”

“Yunjin,” you groan, rubbing the heels of your palm into your eyes. You’re absolutely exhausted, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can talk about Sunghoon without your head wanting to explode. “As much as I’d love to talk about Sunghoon's sparkling love life and my lack of one, I’ve got a nine am tomorrow that I’d rather not have to sleep through because I stayed up all night talking about my nonexistent love life.”

She nods, a small smile on her lips. "No, yeah, of course. But, before you become dead to the world, you’re actually kind of wrong about something.”

“What?”

“Your love life isn’t nonexistent,” she says thoughtfully. “You’re seeing Heeseung, remember?”

You throw the pillow at her so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t mold to her face.

You’ve always enjoyed your nine am literacy analysis lecture. After all, you’re an English major. Literacy analysis is kind of your whole thing.

The only part of the class that is mildly annoying is the fact that you share it with Heeseung. But, surprisingly, he rarely ever bothers you. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s finally matured and realized it’s stupid to bother you during lecture, or if he’d just gotten bored of the entire thing. Either way, you’d be perfectly fine with whatever the answer was as long as it kept him away from you.

Today though, your nerves are practically fried. Does he know? Did he expose you? You don’t know why he would lie for you, and honestly, you don’t expect him to. He probably laughed out loud before Sunghoon and Jake even asked him about it.

God, you love Yunjin, you really do, but right now you wish she’d stayed home with her gerbil last night. Maybe that way she wouldn’t have been able to open her big mouth.

You don’t look at Heeseung when you enter. You don’t even look in his general direction. You just keep your head down and try to look as normal as possible through the lecture, which is exceptionally difficult when your mind is buzzing with so much nervous energy it could power the entire university.

The usual hour seems to pass by in a blur, and when your professor releases you for dismissal, you’re quick to pack your bags and make a swift exit. You're practically out of breath by the time you make it outside, but you’re relieved you managed to get out without having to make any contact with Heeseung. You aren’t sure you would’ve been able to survive the embarrassment.

You pull the strap of your bag further up your shoulder and pull out your phone, fully ready to call Yunjin and complain to her about the mess she’s gotten you into, but a call of your name forces your head up.

Heeseung makes his way over to you casually, a backwards baseball cap covering up his dirty blonde hair and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He isn’t giving you that usual teasing smile he always wears when he sees you, instead he looks unusually serious. 

You tense, pulse pounding in your ears and alarm bells ringing in your head. You have half the mind to turn and make a run for it, but he reaches you before your feet can move.

“Hi,” he says simply. Casually. Like he’s talking to a friend and asking about the weather.

You hesitate, but return the greeting nonetheless. “...Hi.”

He cracks a smile, but scrunches his nose before it reaches his eyes and his lips fall back down into a straight line. “We need to talk.”

Your blood turns to ice, skin paling before you can stop it. He knows. And if he knows that means he told everyone the truth, and he’s probably already told the entire campus about your stupid lie as well. You’re going to be known as the girl who lied about being in a relationship because she couldn't accept that the boy she likes has a girlfriend, and then you're going to have to transfer somewhere else and start going by a new name. 

God, you are going to kill Yunjin. It’ll be like a final goodbye before you’re forced to move across the country.

You shake your head immediately. “No, uh, we don’t actually. I already know what you’re going to say, so I’ll just start packing my things now. No need for this awkward rejection or whatever–not that I’m being rejected by you. God, I’d rather die before I go out with you. But, Yunjin has a big mouth and I never know how to stop her before she says something stupid, so now my social life is totally dead and–”

You’re rambling so fast it takes a moment for you to register that Heeseung's laughing, and even longer to realize that he’s laughing at you. His shoulders shake from the force of it, and the back of his hand comes up to cover his mouth. If this was anyone else, you might even think he looked cute.

You swallow, unable to help the pout that forms on your lips. “And now you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, taking in a deep breath and trying to find some composure. “It’s just…you’ve always been really good at jumping to conclusions.”

Your brows furrow, mouth parting as you try to process his words. What does he mean you’re good at jumping to conclusions? Why does he always talk like he knows anything about you? You know they shouldn’t, but the words tick you off. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugs, lips curving up into that smile you’ve unfortunately become way too familiar with. The one that screams trouble and always means he’s up to no good. “I have to admit, I was pretty surprised when Jake grilled me for half an hour last night on our apparent relationship–” you visibly wince, but he ignores it and continues– “but, I thought to myself, why on earth would [Y/N] [L/N] tell our friends we were in a relationship? I figured you had to have a reason, so I went along with it.”

Your jaw drops, eyes blinking a mile a minute like maybe that’ll help everything make sense. Newsflash, it doesn’t–if anything it just makes everything feel ten times more confusing. “You what?”

He shrugs, “you have a reason, right? Otherwise, we just became a couple for no reason. Unless that’s what you wanted? Was this whole thing just an elaborate scheme to get with me?” His voice drops an octave, and he takes a step closer, until suddenly he’s in your space and you can smell the fresh linen from his detergent and his cedarwood cologne. “You know, princess, if you wanted to be with me, all you had to do was ask.”

You might be extremely confused right now, but you’ve got enough sense to know that the last thing you want in your life is to be in a real relationship with him. And you definitely don’t want him calling you princess. 

You take a step back, your arms coming up to put space between the two of you. “Ew, no, absolutely not. Like I said, I’d rather die before I dated you.”

He hums, shoving his hands back in his pockets and beginning to walk away. “Okay. I’ll just go tell Jake and Sunghoon that you lied then–”

Your hand shoots out and wraps around his arm before you can stop yourself, and you feel the muscle tense up beneath your fingertips. He stills, his head tilting as he looks back at you.

You swallow, taking your pride down with the saliva. “I’m sorry,” you sigh out, “I just don't know how to go about this without sounding like a total loser.”

His lips curve up and he turns so he’s facing you fully. “You’re going to sound like a loser to me no matter what, so just tell me.”

You glower, your hand dropping back to your side. You try to ignore the warmth lingering in your palm as it balls up at your side. “I’ve had a thing for this guy–”

He nods. “Sunghoon, right?”

Is it really that obvious? You narrow your eyes, “How’d you know? Did he say something about me?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’ve seen the way you follow each other like lost puppies. I’ve gotta admit, I was surprised when he popped out with Chaewon and not you.”

You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. If even Heeseung, the one person you absolutely cannot stand, could see that there was something between you and Sunghoon, then that must mean you aren’t delusional. But, on the other hand, it makes you wonder what made Sunghoon change his mind so quickly.

Were you trying to take things too slow? Did he get bored of the waiting? You thought the dancing around each other was sweet, but maybe he was looking at it differently. Maybe he just got sick of waiting around for you.

Heeseung must notice how your thoughts have wandered, because he waves a hand in front of your face and raises his brows. “You still with me?”

Your eyes snap to him and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry, um, as I was saying, I’ve had a thing for him for a while. So, when he took us to dinner with Chaewon last night, Yunjin had this bright idea to say that I was also in a relationship with…you. And the whole thing just kind of spiraled from there.”

He’s silent for a moment, like he’s processing your words. “She said we were dating to make Sunghoon jealous? How does that work?”

You groan and run a hand over your face. “I don’t know! I don’t know what she was thinking! I’ve already yelled at her over it!” You feel your frustration building again, but you take a deep breath and force it down. “It was stupid. And now you’re dragged into this entire mess and I don’t know how I’m going to tell everyone the truth.”

There are a lot of things you dislike about Heeseung. He’s rude in that passive aggressive kind of way, and he only ever does it to you. He always forgets a pen and never gives yours back when you lend one to him. He’s wildly selfish and thinks that the entire world revolves around him. He also always manages to catch you by surprise, and you absolutely loathe surprises.

Today is no exception.

His lips part in thought, and for the first time you can actually see him thinking about what he’s going to say before he says it. Usually, he just blurts out whatever's on his mind and deals with the consequences later.

“What if…” he hesitates for a moment. “What if you didn’t tell them?”

“What?”

He splutters for a moment, a nervous laugh bubbling from his lips. “I just mean, what if we let everyone think we’re dating? Not that we actually date. That would be…awful.”

“Why would we do that, though?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like me having a boyfriend is going to change Sunghoon's mind. And what would you even get out of it aside from undeniable blackmail material?”

He shrugs, “actually Sunghoon looked pretty distraught last night. He kept asking me about you and our budding relationship.”

Your heart skips a beat at that. He was asking about you? It shouldn't affect you like it does, especially when he’s got a girlfriend, but the thought of him thinking about you has butterflies flying around your stomach.

Still, it doesn’t explain why Heeseung would want to help you. He’s never gone out of his way to do it before, so you don’t see why he would now. 

“But, what do you get out of this?” You ask, pointing a wary finger at him. “You’ve never been nice enough to actually help me before.”

He scoffs, “first off, that's not true. What about that science project we did Junior year? The one with the ant colony? I partnered up with you after Stella got that weird illness.”

“You mean the ant colony you released into Mrs. Hong's room? She made us deep clean the room every day for, like, two weeks. And Stella had pneumonia.”

“Yeah, but that was after we’d already gotten an A.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

He sighs and pulls out a creme folder from his bag. He taps it once and hands it to you. You accept it questioningly, looking up at him through your lashes with suspicion. “What is this?”

“My portfolio,” he explains. Just as he said, when you open it there's what you think must be hundreds of photos. Some of nature, some of the people on campus, some of just random mundane things. They’re all breathtaking shots, and it's then that you remember he’s here on a full scholarship after winning some national photography contest. It’d been the only thing he talked about for weeks.

You knew he was going to win the moment it was announced.

“Wow,” you mumble, continuing to flip through the photos. “These are amazing.”

He brings a hand up to his neck and scratches at it nervously. “Thanks.”

One picture captures your attention. It’s a candid shot of Sunghoon in class, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, eyebrows tucked in that adorable way they always are when he’s frustrated. The people around him are blurry, and you assume they’re getting their stuff for dismissal.

“The photography committee on campus is holding a competition,” he continues, “$100,000 and your pictures are featured in international art shows. But, in order to enter, I need a muse. Someone I can get consistent pictures of. If we’re “dating”, no one will question why I’m constantly taking pictures of you, and it saves me the hassle of having to ask anyone else.”

You raise a brow. He wants to be in a fake couple so that he can take pictures of you for a contest? It doesn’t feel like a fair trade to you at all. “Why don’t you ask Jake or Sunghoon? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

He gives you a fixed look. “I already did, but they both claimed they were too busy. You’re my last resort before I start asking random people on campus.”

The explanation still feels weird to you, but you aren’t going to fight him anymore on it. Besides, you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re now in a fake relationship with public enemy number one.

“So…what now?” You ask, closing the folder and handing it back to him. He takes it with steady hands, and when his fingers brush yours, there’s a solid five seconds where your breath catches in your throat and you almost forget about everything you dislike about Heeseung.

“Jay Park’s having a party tomorrow night,” he breathes, lips turning up into that awful smile. “Beer. Dancing. Maybe some weed. Sunghoon and Chaewon will definitely be there, which means you and I will also be there.”

Your nose scrunches at the thought. You’d only gone to one party so far, and the entire experience had been so awful you’d sworn them off completely.

“I don’t really do parties,” you mumble.

Heeseung snorts like that’s the understatement of the century. “We won't stay for long. Just long enough for Sunghoon to see us, and then we’ll go.”

You nod, and the air between the two of you suddenly feels heavy. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and your eyes fall to the floor. “Thank you,” you say sincerely. “For helping me.”

He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. Just nods casually like fake dating people is something he does daily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, princess.”

You really need to tell him to stop calling you that.

When you tell Yunjin, she doesn’t even try to act surprised. “I knew it would work out,” she says confidently, staring at a pimple in her reflection. “That's why I said it in the first place.”

You roll your eyes, fingers moving over your keyboard rapidly. You need to finish up your analysis paper before the deadline next week, but every time you sit down to write your brain wanders to dirty blonde hair and that annoyingly perfect smile.

“Whatever.” You mumble, “he’s expecting me to go to some party with him tomorrow night, but I don’t know. I really need to finish this paper, and the last time we went to a party I got so drunk I collided with the wall.”

Yunjin snorts at the memory, and then she’s standing and making her way over to you. She sits crisscrossed on your bed and ever-so-gently forces your laptop closed. You don’t argue with her, it’s not like you were getting anything done anyway.

“So, your fake boyfriend–who by the way, is super hot–is asking you to go to a party with him, and you don’t want to because you’d rather stay at home and analyze Edgar Allen Poe?” She asks, drawing out the sentence so you feel completely and utterly stupid.

“It’s not Edgar Allen Poe,” you mutter, “and, I don’t know, this entire thing just feels so insane! Like, what am I hoping happens? Sunghoon realizes he’s actually in love with me and breaks up with Chaewon?”

“Exactly that, yes.” Yunjin nods, like it’s obvious.

You shoot her a glare. “That’s not fair to either of them. If they’re happy, why should I try to ruin that?”

Yunjin sighs, her hands reaching out to grab yours. She brings them into her lap and squeezes them comfortingly. “If they’re happy, then you being in a relationship with Heeseung isn’t going to matter. But you said he asked about you, right? That means he still cares at least a little bit, and if that’s the case, then it’s not fair to Chaewon for him to stay with her.” She smiles softly, her shoulders bobbing as she shrugs them. “I don’t know what he’s doing right now, but I know that there was something going on between the two of you. And if you care about him, you shouldn’t let that go without a fight.”

When she wanted to, Yunjin could give some seriously killer advice. Your lips curve up, chest feeling lighter and mind not so hazy. “Thanks, Yunjin. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Die, probably.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back with it. “Yeah,” you agree, “probably.”

The next night, your nerves are absolutely shot. Heeseung texted you that he’d pick you and Yunjin up from your dorm at seven, which meant you’d spent the entire day stressed out of your mind.

Sunghoon was going to be there, that much was obvious, but the thought of parading yourself around with Heeseung in front of him makes you feel sick. For one, he knows you. He’s always been able to see right through you, and you have half the mind to think he’ll make your little lie before you even step through the door.

You suck in a breath, your hands smoothing out the sides of your skirt. The dress Yunjin lent you is a lot shorter than anything you’re used to wearing, and the black cloth hugs your curves in a way you’re not entirely used to seeing on yourself. Your heels force your back to arch, highlighting the curve of your spine and the plump of your ass.

You give yourself a once-over in the mirror, hands coming down to tug the fabric further down your thighs. “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” You ask.

Yunjin clicks her tongue, and you can see her fighting with the straps of her own dress through the mirror. “Absolutely not. You look amazing. The guys are going to lose their minds when they see you in that.”

You raise a brow and turn around to face her. “Guys? Like, plural?”

“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, “Sunghoon and Heeseung.”

Sunghoon, yes. You’d love for him to notice you. But Heeseung? Absolutely not. You could seriously care less about what he thinks about you. He was there when you didn’t understand how to get rid of your acne and when makeup was more of a suggestion then something you actually did everyday.

“Ew, no,” you gag, “I don’t care what Lee Heeseung thinks about me. The only reason he’s even helping me is for his portfolio or whatever. He’s not doing it out of the kindness of his heart.”

Yunjin hums, smoothing out her dress and giving herself one final look over in the vanity mirror. She looks amazing–she always does. You aren’t jealous of Yunjin, but sometimes you wonder what it’d be like to have her confidence. “You seriously think he’s doing this just for his portfolio?”

“Um, yeah. That’s what he said.”

She walks over to you then, her chin resting on your shoulder. “I think–and don’t go nuclear on me for this–but I think he likes you. Like, like-likes you.”

A laugh bursts from your chest. That is the single most absurd thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Heeseung can barely stand being in the same room as you without having to get under your skin. He doesn’t like you, he just enjoys pissing you off. 

“You’re funny,” you snort, “and so insanely wrong.”

She shrugs and takes a step back from you. “I don’t know, [Y/N]. I don’t know many guys who get into fake relationships with people they dislike just so they can finish their portfolio.”

Your phone buzzes from your bed, and when you pick it up you’ve got a text message from Heeseung saying he’s here. 

“You don’t know many guys in general, Yunjin.” You retort. You quickly grab your purse and stuff your phone inside. “He’s here. Don’t say anything weird in the car, please. I think you’ve embarrassed me enough in the last two days to last a lifetime.”

“No promises,” she winks.

Heeseung's car isn’t super nice. It’s pretty typical for any college student, actually. There’s a scratch on the passenger side door and a dent on the hood, and it looks like it could definitely use a round through the car wash. But, despite that, the sight of it makes you nostalgic.

You remember when he pulled into your first day of Junior year with this thing. He bragged about it to anyone who would listen. He’d saved up the entire summer to buy it, and he treated the run down thing like it was his pride and joy. You wonder if that’s still the case today.

He’s leaning against your door when you step outside. Dirty blonde hair, backwards baseball cap, that same fucking smile. The sight alone is enough to irritate you.

But there’s a brief moment where the smile falters. His eyes trail over you, all the way from your heels to your eyes, and you swear you see his ears go the lightest shade of pink.

You raise a brow, but before you can comment on it the smile is back and he’s acting like nothing happened. “Nice dress,” he clicks his tongue, “I didn’t think you owned anything that didn’t look like it came from a librarian's closet.”

You hate him. You hate him so much it hurts your soul. It envelops your being like an ugly monster.

You want to tell him that, but you don’t, because at the end of the day he’s helping you for whatever reason, and your mother told you that hating people was inherently wrong. So, you swallow down your annoyance and make your way to his car. “Can we try and go one night without you being a dick?”

“I don’t know,” he smirks, “you’re the one dating this dick, princess.”

You frown and try not to think about the double meaning behind his words. “Fake dating,” you correct.

“Right. Fake dating.”

The tension between you is thick, and not in the way you’re used to. Instead, this feels like some sort of gravitational pull towards him. Something you’d kept buried that is trying to dig its way back from the grave.

Yunjin groans behind you. You’d nearly forgotten she was here. “God, can you guys just fuck already and get it over with? Your sexual tension is starting to make me jealous.”

“Yunjin!” You practically screech. Your hands gesture wildly as you attempt to defend yourself. “This is not–there is no sexual tension! That’s not what this is!”

She gives you a look that says: don’t make me call bullshit.

You sigh and run a hand over your eyes. “Just get in the car.”

The party is just outside of campus, in Jay Park's two-story home that he mysteriously pays for by himself. (Everyone knows he’s a trust fund baby.) There’s some stragglers outside, all holding red solo cups and trying to act drunker than they really are. You’ve never understood the appeal for parties. To you, they just look like sweat fests that people gaslight themselves into thinking are fun.

Yunjin gets out of the car as soon as you pull up and quickly makes her way over to some guy by the front door. You watch as she tries to talk to him, and for once he doesn’t look intimidated by her outgoing nature. It’s kind of cute, actually.

You, on the other hand, feel a bit sick. For one, you don’t know what you’re going to do when you see Sunghoon. Is he even going to care? Probably not. He literally has a fucking girlfriend, and here you are trying to show off for him like that’ll change anything.

“Hey,” Heeseung murmurs from beside you, his eyebrows knitted together in what you think might be concern. “You good?”

You blink. “I don’t know.” It’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night.

He’s silent for a moment, before he’s letting out a breath and turning to you. “You look good, [Y/N]. Really fucking good. Don’t let a dress like that go to waste because you’re in your head.” He emphasizes his point with a gentle tap to your forehead. “Let’s go in there and show Sunghoon exactly what he lost, yeah?”

You feel your cheeks heat at the compliment, but you force the words to the back of your mind to be dwelled on later. Right now, you just need to get out of this car and get through tonight without wanting to explode. And, honestly, you do want to show Sunghoon what he’s missing out on. 

“Okay,” you nod.

He grins. “Okay.” 

Inside, the party is practically buzzing with people. There’s a few people you recognize, but it’s mostly randoms that you didn’t even realize you went to school with. That’s the thing about college; you’re always meeting someone new. Your high school was the complete opposite of that–you knew everyone in your graduating class on a personal level.

Heeseung keeps a hand on your lower back the entire time, and for some reason, you’re grateful for the subtle comfort it gives you. Like it’s a reminder that he’s here and that you aren’t going into this mess alone.

You eventually make your way over to the drinks, and Heeseung grabs a can of alcohol for himself and water for you. You raise a brow as he hands it to you. You hadn’t planned to drink, but him handing you water makes you feel like he’s treating you like some little kid.

“Actually,” you clear your throat, pointing towards the other beer can on top of the ice, “I’ll have that.”

He looks caught off guard for a moment, but then he shrugs and hands the can over to you. You open it with a pop and immediately take a swig. It goes down like tar against your tongue, and your nose scrunches in disgust.

He chuckles, “sure you don’t want the water?”

You really do. “I’m sure.”

Your eyes search the crowd for Sunghoon, and sure enough he’s here. He’s playing beer pong with some of his friends from the football team, and Chaewon is at his side cheering every time he scores. They look perfect for each other, and your heart squeezes painfully at the sight. Your hands shake as you take another gulp of your beer.

Heeseung taps your waist once, before he’s tugging you into his side and pulling you towards the dance floor. Alarm bells ring in your head as you weave through the crowd. You can’t dance, anytime you’ve tried you’ve embarrassed yourself so bad you’ve debated never showing your face in public again.

“Heeseung,” you attempt, “I can’t dance!”

“Neither can anyone else here. Besides, we can’t just sit in the corner and expect Sunghoon to care. If he’s having a good time, you need to be having an even better one.” He says easily.

You scoff as he comes to a stop in the middle of the floor, directly in Sunghoon's line of sight. Heeseung has always been able to make confidence look easy–like it’s something he was born with. You, on the other hand, are not like that. Your movements are awkward and you fumble to find a rhythm that doesn’t make you look like you’re on the verge of collapse.

“Wow,” he laughs, whistling lowly when you nearly trip over your own feet. “You weren’t kidding.”

Your eyes narrow as embarrassment flushes your cheeks. “I told you! God, I’m going back to the drinks–”

Before you can walk away, he catches your wrist with his hand and pulls you back towards him. Your chest nearly collides with his, and his face is suddenly so close you can practically taste his breath on yours.

“I’m not making fun of you, princess.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips, “just…observing.”

His voice is right beside your ear, and the proximity makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Suddenly, the room is too small and all you can think about is him. Sunghoon is a thought so distant in your mind you nearly forget you’d ever been thinking about him in the first place.

He brings his lips to your ear, his grip on your hips tightening the smallest bit. You wonder if he’s able to hear your heartbeat. If he can, does he know it’s beating so rapidly because of him?

“He’s looking,” he murmurs into your hair.

The call back to reality feels like a bucket of ice water against your spine. If Heeseung notices the way you tense, he doesn’t comment on it.

You clear your throat and try to ignore the way your voice shakes. “He is?”

“He was,” he grumbles with a click of his tongue. He pulls back so you can see his eyes, and for a moment you think he almost looks as wrecked as you feel. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly choke on your own spit. “What?”

You barely have time to process before he’s bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, the other sliding to your spine and pulling you impossibly closer. You’re so close your noses are nearly touching, and his cedarwood cologne feels like it’s enveloping all of your senses.

“Trust me, okay?” He murmurs.

Later, you’ll say you don’t know how it happened. You’ll tell Yunjin that it all happened so fast and that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He was just helping you get Sunghoon's attention.

But the truth–the truth is that you want him to kiss you. You want him to take your breath away and for his hands to hold you like he’s afraid he’ll die without you.

And that scares you.

All you can manage is one simple word. “Okay.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is awkward at first, more a peck than anything else, but he slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you closer and suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and he’s kissing you like you’re something precious.

Your hands slide to his chest instinctively, fists balling up the fabric of his shirt between your fingers. His breath mingles with yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth like you’re the best thing he’s tasted in years.

You can’t help the whine that slides from his lips when he pulls away, your own lips chasing his without your permission. It’s like your body's an addict and he’s your drug of choice. 

Heeseung's lips are swollen and his pupils are completely blown, but you doubt you look much better. His tongue darts out to swipe at his lower lip, and then he’s smiling at you. But it’s not the teasing smile you’re used to or the one he gives everyone else. It’s softer. Real. 

Your lips part to say something, anything, but then your thoughts go back to Sunghoon and what comes out instead is a soft, “did he see?”

Heeseungs smile immediately drops, and something akin to disappointment flashes over his face. You don’t know why the sight makes you cringe internally. 

He glances up and nods his head. “Yeah,” he says, using his grip on your hips to turn you around, “he definitely saw.”

When you look, Sunghoon’s cheeks are pink and he’s staring directly at you. When he sees you looking, he’s quick to avert his gaze and try to act casually, but you know Sunghoon. He’s jealous.

This is a complete win.

So, why don’t you care as much as you should?

You should be ecstatic that Sunghoon’s feeling a certain way towards you. That’s the whole point of this stupid deal–to get Sunghoon back.

But when you turn back around and look at Heeseung, all you can think about is the way he smiled at you like you meant something to him. And how you hope he does it again.

It’s been a week since the kiss. A full week of acting like a couple. Holding hands on campus, cheek kisses in class, coffee dates at the cafe you used to frequent with Sunghoon. 

It’s…weird. Somewhere along the way, you stopped hating Heeseung's general presence. Instead of a nemesis, he’s managed to turn himself into someone you don’t really mind having around. A frenemy, maybe. He’s funny, something you never cared enough to notice before, and he’s got this soft side to him that makes your heart melt the smallest bit.

“So,” Yunjin grins, taking a bite of her ramen. “Any word from Sunghoon?”

Your mouth goes dry at the mention of your apparent crush. In truth, you hadn't really thought about him at all. You used to go to sleep imagining it was Sunghoon next to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and holding you like you were something fragile.

Now when you close your eyes at night, all you can think about is the way Heeseung's mouth felt against yours. The way his hands gripped your hips and held you close to him.

It takes everything in you to remember that Sunghoon is the goal. You’re just feeling this way because Heeseung kissed you. Once you have Sunghoon, you’ll get over it completely.

“Um,” you mumble, sinking further into your blankets, “not yet. But Heeseung said he saw him looking at us in the coffee shop the other day. That’s good, right?”

She turns to you, her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “It is. So why don’t you sound more excited?”

You immediately go on the defensive. “I am excited! I’m just…tired right now. It’s late, and I’ve been up since seven.”

“Whatever you say.”

In truth, you aren’t that excited. It’s nice that he’s thinking about you. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung are doing this anyway. So why can you not bring yourself to care more?

Your phone buzzes next to you, and you have to dig through your sheets to find it. When you do, the screen is lit up with a message from Heeseung.

Hey, it reads, got time to take some photos tomorrow? There’s this park just a little off campus that I think would be a good spot.

Right. The portfolio. You’d been so busy with yourself you nearly forgot you were supposed to be helping him as well.

Sure, you reply, what time?

It doesn’t take long for him to respond. I’ll pick you up at eleven. Wear something nice, please.

You heart the message and set your phone down. You aren’t sure what something nice is supposed to entail, but you’ll do your best.

The next morning, you’re waiting outside your dorm in an outfit that you deemed appropriate for the park while also being cute. It isn’t something you usually wear–the long skirt feels restricting and the jean vest is more form-fitting then you thought it would be, but Yunjin swore up and down that you looked great, so you’re choosing to believe her.

You rock back and forth on your feet while you wait, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Heeseung is never late, but today seems to be an exception to that.

You sigh, ready to turn around and go wait in your dorm, but the sound of your name catches you off guard.

When you look over, Sunghoon is walking over to you. He must’ve been on a run, because his arms are on full display in his sleeveless tank top. Usually, the sight would send your mind reeling. But now you barely even glance towards them.

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He nods, coming to a stop a few feet in front of you. He’s close enough for you to see the moles on his face, but far enough that you can’t smell his usual expensive cologne. A complete opposite of Heeseungs soft cedarwood and linen.

Why the fuck are you thinking about Heeseungs cologne right now?

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says shyly, eyebrows knit together. “I’ve…missed hanging out with you.”

Your heart skips a beat, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Sorry,” you murmur with a shrug. “I’ve just been super busy lately. You know how it gets.” It’s not a lie, you have been busy. Just…busy with Heeseung.

He pauses, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He looks like he’s contemplating his next words, which is something you’ve never seen him do. It hurts a bit that your relationship has turned into this. Just a month ago the thought of ignoring Sunghoon would’ve seemed unfathomable. Both of you being in separate relationships (given yours is fake) would’ve been a complete joke. And yet here you are, talking like complete strangers.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, the words quiet and hesitant. “I’ve seen you and Heeseung around campus. I was a little surprised, honestly.”

Your response is dry. Bordering on the edge of annoyance. “Yeah. So was I.”

You both know you’re not talking about Heeseung. For a moment, he almost looks regretful.

“[Y/N]-”

“Hey.” 

You didn’t even notice Heeseung's beat up Honda pull onto your street, nor notice him walk out of it. He’s dressed casually in a Decalis University sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. His camera hangs off his neck and rests against his stomach, and his hand instinctively hovers over it as he approaches.

Relief floods your chest at the sight of him. You don’t know why. It must be some kind of hormonal thing.

Sunghoon takes a step back like he’s trying to put up an invisible wall between you. The two live together, and yet the tension radiating off of them makes you wonder what their living situation must be like right now. Jake must be in a constant state of stress.

“You’re late,” you murmur.

Heeseung smiles, his hand reaching for yours and pulling your wrist to his mouth. He leaves a soft kiss on your inner wrist, and your cheeks flare at the gesture. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your skin. “Traffic.”

You fold immediately. “It’s fine. I was just worried.”

Sunghoon must sense that he’s no longer wanted, because he murmurs a soft goodbye and makes a swift exit. You watch as he jogs away, his forming growing smaller and smaller, and it doesn’t hurt like it used to. It just feels like…nothing. You look back to Heeseung, and any tension you had melts.

“What was that about?” He asks.

You shrug. “Was just saying hello.”

“And?”

You raise a brow. “And what?”

“Did he say anything about me? About our relationship?”

Oh. Right. You’re in love with Sunghoon.

“Oh,” you clear your throat and attempt to act like you hadn’t completely forgotten your deal. “Yeah, he did. I think he’s jealous, but he’s still with Chaewon, so does it even really matter?”

“Trust me, it does.” He snorts, leading you over to his car. “He was talking to Jake last night about how he apparently isn’t feeling any sparks with Chaewon. He wants to break up with her.”

That’s good. That’s what you wanted. You should be ecstatic and your heart should be fluttering in your chest. Instead, all you feel is a cold pang of disappointment.

“Good! That's great. Amazing, even.” You say, attempting to sound the littlest bit excited, but it just comes off flat and dull. Like you’re talking about an assignment and not the boy you’ve been in love with for months.

He gives you a side-eye as he opens the passenger door for you, and you slip in like it’s second nature. At this point, it is. “You don’t sound too excited,” he observes.

You’re not, but you can’t say that. “I’m just shocked, I guess. I don’t understand why he even got with Chaewon in the first place if he didn’t feel anything for her. It’s kind of…mean.”

Heeseung takes a second to respond as he climbs into the driver's seat. He wordlessly hands you his phone and lets you put on your playlist–something you hadn’t even realized was an option. You play Ariana Grande and watch as Heeseung tries to act like he doesn’t enjoy it.

“Sunghoons always been like that,” he says eventually. “He’s impulsive. Doesn’t think about what he’s doing until he’s regretting it and trying to act like he’s not.”

“Why?”

Heeseung shrugs, glancing at you from the corner of his eye for a split second before going back to the road. “Don’t know. It’s just how he is.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek and look out the window. The campus passes by in a blur, people walking to class together, pigeons scavenging for any scraps they can get, the lecture hall you walk to every morning. It’s familiar. Comfortable.

You look back to Heeseung, and instead of annoyance, you get the same feeling you do when you’re looking at campus. Familiarity. Comfort. And it scares you so much your throat nearly constricts.

“Well,” you croak, running a hand through your hair, “that’s stupid. And all it does is hurt the people around him.”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly, “it does.”

You don’t talk the rest of the car ride, and you’re thankful for it. Your mind is too alert for conversation right now. You can smell his cologne, can hear him humming along to Needy by Ariana Grande, can feel his presence consuming your very soul. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

You don’t hate Lee Heeseung. Because your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love, and that is the last thing you feel for the boy you grew up with.

When you arrive at the park, you’re entirely too eager to get out of the car. You barely wait for him to park before you’re practically stumbling out of your seat with the ordinance of a baby giraffe. 

Heeseung gives you a look, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just directs you to where he wants to go with confidence. His hand hovers at your lower back–never touching–just there. Like he’s unsure of what to do with himself when you’re not around your friends and having to keep up your act.

You don’t comment on it.

Eventually, he takes you to a small pond in the middle of the park. There’s white lilies around the water, each of them dancing in the wind while the water flows around them. The sun is bright, shining in your eyes and making you squint slightly. It’s pretty beautiful, actually. You had no idea this place was so close to your campus.

Heeseung directs you on how to pose. How to smile like you have no idea you’re being watched. It’s awkward at first, mostly because the only time you’ve ever had someone take pictures of you like this was during your high school graduation, but it doesn’t take long for the tension to ease into something softer. Easier. 

He tells you to sit on the grass and tilt your head towards the pond–but each shot he gets just doesn’t feel right.

“Maybe lean more towards the left?” He mumbles, hand flying out to gesture at you. You do as he says, but apparently, he’s still not getting the shot he wants. 

He clicks his tongue in frustration, “no–that’s not–just–let me fix you.”

You furrow your brows. What does that even mean? “You don’t need to fix me, Heeseung–”

He interrupts you with a laugh. “Not like that, idiot. God, you’re always so defensive.”

You part your lips to retort, but before the words can get out, he’s walking towards you and your chin is in his hand, and you suddenly forget how to communicate entirely.

He tilts your head where he wants it, the pink of his tongue poking out the tiniest bit. His face is so close that it takes everything in you to not remember how he’d tasted when his tongue was in your mouth.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you let him do what he needs to.

“There, that’s the angle.”

“You couldn’t have just told me to tilt my chin up?”

He smiles and goes back to his camera. “I did, princess. You just don’t listen.”

God, he’s so annoying.

But still, your lips curve up and your heart gets that same feeling it did at the party. The one that you’re not quite ready to name.

“Do we really have to go to this brunch?” You groan, flopping down onto your bed. “Sunghoon and Chaewon are going to be there, and I really don’t feel like watching them be all over each other.”

Yunjin shakes her head, “that’s exactly why we have to go. So that you and Heeseung can do it right back to them.”

“They already saw us kiss! What more do we have to do? Feed each other and do that weird baby talk bullshit couples do?”

Yunjin gags and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what couples you’re talking to, but please tell them I said to stop doing that immediately. But, no, that’s not what I meant. How is it going to look if everyone's there except for you and Heeseung?”

“Um, fine? No one’s going to care.”

“It’s going to look suspicious. Everyone knows you had a thing for Sunghoon before he popped out with Chaewon. You and Heeseung need to prove to everyone–not just Sunghoon–that you’re actually in love.”

You sigh. You know she’s right, you just hate it. Why do you need to prove your fake relationship to your friends? It feels wrong. It feels like lying.

Actually, it is lying. 

“I hate lying to everyone,” you sigh, hugging your pillow to your chest. “Makes me feel like a bad friend.”

“You’re not a bad friend,” Yunjin reassures, rolling her chair over to you. It gets caught on the rug for a moment, but she’s quick to force the wheels to move again. “Besides, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

You give her a look. “That’s like, the worst advice you’ve ever given me.”

She chuckles, “sorry I’m not well versed in the art of therapy for fake dating. I’ll make sure to switch my degree to better accommodate you.”

“That would actually be great, thank you.”

She takes in a breath, her hand reaching for yours. “Just…don’t think of it as lying. Think about it like two friends helping each other out.”

“He’s not my friend.” You scoff, but the words don’t hold any bite behind them. Not like they used to, at least.

Yunjin grins knowingly. “Yeah, he is.”

You don’t bother correcting her again.

Brunch is at noon at that diner off of fifth. The same one you’d gone to when this entire mess started. The same one you’d started falling in love with Sunghoon at. It’s weird now, seeing how much your life has changed in the short amount of time since you were last here.

You have a fake boyfriend now. You don’t talk to Sunghoon. Your life feels like it’s falling apart and coming back together all at once.

You and Heeseung sit next to each other wordlessly, both of you more cautious about touching. It feels like there’s enough space between your leg and his to fill out the Grand Canyon. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

Sunghoon holds Chaewon's hand under the table, and their shoulders brush every time they move. It’s irritating and annoying and you strangely enough couldn’t care less about it. That sense of jealousy you’d felt the last time you were here no longer spills over your guts like acid, instead you feel nothing.

You try to force yourself to remember what you’d liked about Sunghoon. He’s kind. Smart. Dedicated. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.

But he’s not…

“Honestly,” Jake says between spoonfuls of biscuits and gravy, “when Yunjin told us you guys were seeing each other, I thought she was lying. I mean, you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without having some kind of argument.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear nervously, “yeah. I was pretty surprised too.”

You don’t miss the way Heeseung cracks a smile at that. “It was kind of sudden, but I'm glad it happened.” He says easily, “means I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her.”

You can tell he hadn’t meant to say that last part, because his eyes go wide and he tenses for a second. Not long enough for anyone to catch it, but you do. You see the way fear flashes behind his irises for a moment, the way his breath catches before filling out his chest once again.

Sunghoons throat bobs as he swallows, dark eyes darting between the two of you slowly. “Pretending?” He asks cautiously, like he’s testing the words on his tongue.

But you don’t care about Sunghoon. All you can think about is what Heeseung said. I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her. Is he being honest? Or is this all just a part of your act? You hate that you can’t tell.

“Uh,” he laughs nervously, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “When we were in school, I didn't know how to get her attention. She was smart and kind and friends with everyone, and I was just…there. She used to do this thing in kindergarten where she’d wait for everyone else to fall asleep during naptime before she did because she didn’t want anyone to have to sit there alone, and I remember thinking she must’ve been sent by some kind of angel.” He laughs then, a genuine one. The kind that lights up his entire face.

You hadn’t even remembered you did that, but it’s true. You did. It always just felt like the right thing to do, but the fact that he remembers it all these years later makes you feel almost dizzy. 

“I think it was in third grade when I figured the best way to get her attention was to piss her off,” he continues. “I don’t know why. But I spent the next ten or more years making sure I annoyed her to the best of my ability. I think I just decided that I’d rather have her hate me than not have her in my life at all.”

The table is silent aside from the people talking around you. They’re all having normal conversations while you're going through the biggest existential crisis of your life. You understand that this is supposed to be fake–but that didn’t feel like something he made up on the spot. It felt like he was finally coming clean about something that’d been sitting on his chest for years. And if that’s true, where does that leave you?

“Heeseung…” You attempt, eyes searching the side of his face. When he turns to you, he looks more sincere than you’ve ever seen him. His hand reaches for yours under the table and he intertwines his fingers with yours. The hold is gentle, soft, right. It feels like you’re exactly where you were always supposed to be.

“Sorry,” he laughs, turning back to the group. “That was kind of sappy.”

“Nah, man, that was beautiful.” Jake murmurs, bringing a hand up to his chest. “I’m happy for you guys, seriously.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon nods, “you guys are good for each other.” He looks resigned. Like he’s accepting defeat. It makes something click in your brain.

For the first time in your life, you think you’re starting to see Heeseung exactly for who he is.

You don’t notice the way he looks at Sunghoon. Or how he swallows back his pride and comes to terms with what he knows he has to do.

You don't comment when he pulls his hand away from you, you just assume it's because he wants to be able to properly eat his food.

When brunch is over, you say your goodbyes to everyone with a pep in your step. You know that telling Heeseung how you’re feeling might complicate things, but he basically just confessed that he remembered things you did in kindergarten. You don’t remember that kind of stuff unless it means something, right?

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm?” He murmurs next to you, and you nod.

“I’d like that.”

There’s tension in the air as you walk, one that you’re practically dying to address. But Heeseung doesn’t look like he did in the diner. He looks conflicted, scared–he keeps his eyes ahead and his hands shoved into his pockets. Nothing like the bright boy you’d been sitting next to barely an hour ago.

“Are you okay?” You ask, voice soft.

He doesn’t even glance at you. “I’m fine.”

“Then why do you look like a kicked puppy?” You attempt to joke, but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he pauses on the sidewalk, and you barely get a few feet in front of him when you notice he’s stopped.

“What’s going on, Heeseung?” You attempt again, reaching for his hand. He pulls it back so sharply you nearly flinch.

“I think…I think we need to stop.” He says finally.

Your heart drops. “What? Why? Did I–Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?"

“No, no, it’s not–” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, “fuck, it’s not you.”

You raise a brow. He’s not making any sense. He wants to stop now? After what he said in the diner? “Then what is it?” You snap.

He shakes his head like the words are too painful to speak. “You like Sunghoon, [Y/N], and he’s going to break up with Chaewon soon. I got the pictures I needed for the competition. There’s no reason to drag this on any longer than we already have.”

His words shouldn’t feel like a breakup, but they do. God, they do.  They feel like he’s pulling away from you after you’ve finally come to terms with what you feel for him. “What about what you said in the diner?” You ask finally, voice breaking. “I can’t just act like that didn’t happen, Heeseung. Not when I’m finally–I’m finally…” The words get caught in your throat, but you both know exactly what you mean by them.

His hands squeeze into fists at his side. “That didn’t mean anything, [Y/N].” he says lowly, like breaking your heart is something he does daily. Maybe it was and you just never noticed before. “It was just helping the act. Keeping up the lie. That’s all.”

Tears come to your waterline, the back of your throat beginning to ache from the force of it. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he says firmly, but you can see the way his eyes are beginning to turn glassy. “I really do.”

He turns on his heel then, leaving you alone on the sidewalk and turning his back onto whatever fucked up thing it is you’ve built together. 

Your mother used to say that hate and love were synonymous. You know now that she was wrong.

Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung has nothing to do with love, and everything to do with pure, unadulterated hate.

Your phone chimes, and when you check the notification, what you see doesn't make you feel good. It doesn't bring joy to your heart or make you want to skip down the street. Instead, it makes your heart break a little bit more.

Yunjin: Sunghoon just broke up with Chaewon. We’re so in

You should be happy. This is exactly what you wanted, right?

So why do you feel like you just lost the one thing that mattered the most?

You haven’t talked to Heeseung in three weeks. He transferred out of your shared class–something you didn’t even know was possible this late into the semester–and stopped showing up to any group hangouts. Not that you care, obviously. 

The both of you said your breakup was mutual. That the stress of school and work just didn’t make a relationship possible, but there weren’t any hard feelings. Jake had raised a brow at the entire thing, but ultimately accepted it without a word.

But, Sunghoon seeing the both of you being single at the same time again, decided that meant he could shoot his shot. Which is good–it was the entire point of this entire thing, right?

Sunghoon is nice. He holds the door open for you and he pays for your meals and he takes you back to that coffee shop the both of you loved so much.

He is perfect for you in every sense.

But when he sits next to you, you don’t feel that same spark low in your belly. When he makes a joke, you don’t laugh until you swear you’re going to run out of oxygen. He doesn’t look at you like you mean something to him.

Yunjin's not dumb, she knows something's wrong. Just a few months ago you would’ve been ecstatic at the idea of going on dates with Sunghoon, so why do you seem like you couldn’t care less about him now?

“Are you okay?” She asks, voice filled with concern. “You’ve been…distant.”

“I’m fine,” you answer a bit too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don't know, why don’t you tell me?”

You blink, turning to look at her in your mirror. You’re in the middle of getting ready for you and Sunghoons third date. He told you to dress nicely for dinner, but all you can think about is the fact that Heeseung would be presenting his pictures for the contest tonight. You didn’t even get to see them, which is more annoying than anything else.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yunjin.” You lie.

She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and making her way over to you. She smooths down the hem of your skirt without a second thought. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me but, if it’s because of Heeseung–”

“It’s not.”

“–If it’s because of Heeseung, then I’d understand.”

You freeze, eyes snapping to hers. You never told her about the last conversation you’d had with Heeseung, because you figured there wasn’t really any point. He’d “broken up” with you, and that was that. It doesn't mean anything else.

You want Sunghoon. You know you do. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung came up with that stupid plan in the first place. You aren’t going to throw away a good guy because you’d gotten confused.

“It’s not,” you lie again, “I’m just stressed with finals and stuff. That’s all.”

Yunjin obviously doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame her, of course. You’ve always been an awful liar.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you’re already dreading what she’s going to say. Every time Yunjin goes silent, it always means she’s going to say something that you probably don’t want to hear. 

“You know,” she starts, voice soft and low, “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at him.”

You freeze, a shiver rushing down your spine like ice cold water. “What?”

“I just mean–” She backtracks for a moment before deciding to just say it, “you never look at Sunghoon the way you looked at Heeseung. You looked…happy with him. Like, actually happy. Not just because you thought you were supposed to be, but because you actually felt it.”

You go silent at that. You were happy. Even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it–even if you were fighting it for whatever reason. “I’m happy with Sunghoon.” You say with finality, but you both hear how your voice shakes.

“If you say so,” she sighs, turning back and sitting at her desk. “What’re you guys doing tonight?”

You’re grateful for the change in topic. “He’s taking me to dinner,” you shrug, clipping on your earrings. “Somewhere fancy, I guess.”

She hums. “Do you think he’s going to kiss you tonight?”

God, I really, really hope not.

“I hope so,” you answer instead. Maybe kissing Sunghoon will be exactly what you need to get your mind off of him. “I think I’ve waited long enough.” You laugh, but it’s weak. Dishonest.

Yunjin frowns at the sound of it, but she doesn’t push. “Yeah,” she mumbles, “me too.”

Sunghoon arrives at five on the dot. Just like he said he would. You should’ve been watching the clock because you were excited for him to get here, but instead all you could think about every time you glanced at it was how nervous Heeseung must be right now. The contest starts at seven, which means he finds out in the next two hours if he wins the money. Your hand twitches at your side. You want to text him and say good luck, but you don’t. 

“You look beautiful,” Sunghoon says. He’s all dark hair and dark eyes, not a single hair out of place. His suit looks expensive, and you wonder if he bought it just for the occasion. That definitely feels like something he would do.

“Thank you,” you respond, hoping he doesn’t see how fake your smile is. “You clean up pretty nicely as well.”

“I try,” he jokes, outstretching his arm for you. You take it easily, but it doesn’t feel right in your palm. It’s sturdy, easy. But, it doesn’t have any of that fire that you think it should.

Sunghoon is a gentleman the entire night. He takes you to eat, makes corny jokes, kisses your knuckles with pink cheeks. And it’s good. It’s so, so good. It’s exactly what you’ve always wanted.

But when you close your eyes, it’s not Sunghoon you see.

It’s dirty blonde hair covered by some ratty baseball cap. It’s that fucking teasing smile that you used to hate seeing. It’s watching him grow up and having him remember things about you that you’d completely forgotten about.

It’s him. Heeseung.

Sunghoon leads you to your front door nervously, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to get some kind of read on you. You wonder if he can see that your heart isn’t here–that it never was.

“I had a good time tonight,” he says, lips curling up into a soft smile. “I hope it was the same for you.”

“I…” Your words catch in your throat. You know what the logical thing would be to do right now. Accept his compliments, kiss him sweetly, go into your room giddy and wait for him to text you. But it’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.

“Sunghoon,” you start, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He’s silent for a split second, like he’s trying to process your words. “Why?” He asks, “Did something happen? Did I–Did I do something?”

God, you wish he had. That would make this entire thing so much easier. 

“No,” you laugh wetly, “It’s not you. It’s–it’s me.” You know it’s cliche, but it's true. Because while you should’ve been enjoying him tonight, all you could think about was Heeseung. About the way he’d kissed you at the party. About how he always looked at you like there was more he wanted to say but he just never knew how.

Sunghoon blinks, his eyebrows knitting together and creasing his forehead. “What?”

“You’re perfect, Sunghoon.” you start, the words flowing out of you like you’re finally admitting them to yourself. “And for a long time, you were everything I ever wanted. You went to the cafe with me. You invited me to your games. I thought–I thought that I’d finally found the person I was meant to be with.”

“I–I don’t understand,” he murmurs, “Is that not how you feel anymore?”

Your heart constricts as you shake your head. “I wanted to. I really, really tried to remind myself of how I felt for you before. But…”

It takes him a second, but you see the exact moment recognition flashes across his face. He takes a step back from you, lips falling into a straight line. “But I’m not him.”

You can’t help the sob that rips from your throat. “I’m so sorry, Sunghoon.”

You half expect him to yell, maybe flip you off and drive off in his Porsche while he gets Chaewon on speed dial. But he doesn’t. He stands there for a long moment, breathing slowly, tongue poking the inside of his cheek every now and then.

And then he looks up at you, at the tears staining your cheeks, at how the honesty ripped out of you like a force of nature. He checks his watch–6:50 pm. Ten minutes before the contest starts.

“Come on,” he says, already jogging to the driver's seat.

You’re frozen, watching him with wide eyes. Did he not hear what you just said? “Sunghoon–”

He gives you a look so sharp it nearly steals the breath from your lungs. “We’ve got ten minutes to make it to that contest, and unfortunately, I’m not very big on breaking traffic laws. So, hurry up and get in!”

You gawk at him, a smile curling onto your lips, but you run into his car, nevertheless.

He was right, he’s not big on breaking traffic laws. But you see he’s going five over the speed limit compared to his usual three, and that feels like it counts for something. Even though you’d been leading him on for the past three weeks, he’s still trying to make sure you’re happy. He’s still looking out for you. 

“Thank you,” you sniffle. And you truly mean it.

His gaze stays glued to the road. "Don't mention it.”

You arrive at the photography center with two minutes to spare. Sunghoon doesn't even let you say bye, just rushes you out of the car and wishes you good luck. You don’t look back as you run inside.

You’re thankful you at least dressed nicely for the date, because everyone in here looks like they come from money. Women in floorlength gowns, men in suits you’re sure cost more than your entire tuition. These must be the donors.

The hall is filled with pictures, some simple–some you think you have to be involved in the community to understand. But even as you practically sprint down the hallway, Heeseung is nowhere to be found.

“Please make your way to the dining hall as the photography committee prepares to announce the winner of this year's $100,000 grant!” A voice rings from the intercom, and you blindly follow the crowd into the large room parallel to the hall.

It’s filled with tables, and there’s a stage right at the front of the room with a podium and a giant projector. There’s nothing on it yet, but you’re assuming that’s where they’ll show the winning portfolio.

The tables all have name cards, so you do your best to conspicuously make your way to the back where nobody will notice you standing awkwardly. Plus, from back here it’ll be easier to try and find Heeseung.

You study the crowd, looking for the familiar head of blonde hair, but you come up empty. For a second, you wonder if he’s even here. He has to be here, you think. This is everything to him.

But every time someone new walks in, it’s never him.

You rock back and forth on your feet, a nervous habit. Pretty soon all the chairs are filled out and Heeseung is still nowhere to be seen. You wonder if he’d dropped out of the contest, but that still wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he drop out when photography was so important to him?

You reach for your phone, half tempted to call him and ask where the hell he was, but the lights dim and the president of the photography committee walks up the podium. She’s an older woman, with pin straight grey hair and huge glasses. She has to pull down the microphone to match her height. Heeseung used to joke that even though she looked like she belonged in a Disney movie, she was the toughest mentor he’d ever had. 

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she starts, voice light. “We had many great admissions this year. All of which I personally took the time to look through, and let me tell you, there was some tough competition. I almost threw up my hands and gave the money to everyone!” 

The crowd laughs at that, but you can tell it’s just them being polite. “But, unfortunately, we can’t do that. So, after many sleepless nights and lots of talks with the committee, I was able to come to a decision. This year's winner is someone I think has put in more effort into his photos than anyone else I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. He’s not naturally talented, no, but he’s dedicated. He takes risks. He tries new things and doesn’t shy away when they don’t work.”

The projector begins to come to life. “As you know, this year's theme was muse. The participants were meant to find a singular person and put together a portfolio of said person.”

The first photo flashes against the screen–and your breath catches in your throat. It's you. But it’s not the ones from the park, no, it’s you in class. Your pencil is in between your lips; brows scrunched together the way they always are when you get frustrated. You’re not wearing any makeup–hell, you look like you just rolled out of bed!

Your breath catches as the photos continue. Some of you in class, in the diner, at that God forsaken party. All pictures that look old and new at the same time. You can tell some are from after this entire mess started, when you and Heeseung started to actually enjoy each other's presence. You look happier in those ones.

But there’s some from before too–when the only times you ever thought about Heeseung were when you were thinking about how much you can’t stand him. Those ones are mostly you in class, all of them shot from the same angle. There’s a few of you from group hangouts, and you wonder how you never noticed him taking them. Maybe it’s because you’re just so used to seeing him with his camera that you stopped noticing it entirely.

It’s the last photo that really gets you though. It’s from the park, you’re sitting in the grass, head tilted to the side, lips curling up into a soft smile. You’re looking into the camera–or, behind it actually–directly at Heeseung, and the look in your eyes is enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

You look like you’re in love.

“This year's winner–though I doubt anyone's surprised–Is Lee Heeseung!”

You barely register her words, because all you can see is Heeseung walking up onto the stage. So that’s where he was, you think.

He’s wearing a suit, though it doesn’t look nearly as nice as everyone else's here. His dirty blonde hair is actually styled for once, and his lips are curled up into a small smile. But it’s not the one you’re used to seeing. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, doesn’t make his face light up like it usually does. Despite winning, he looks almost sad.

He gives a small bow at the podium, shaking hands with the Committee President. He looks nervous as he comes up to the mic, and you squeeze your hands together. Does he want you here? Should you try and make your presence known?

You are the girl in his photos, after all.

“Wow,” he starts, voice shaking slightly. “This is…an honor. Really. I didn’t go into this contest thinking I would win. In fact, I wasn’t going to enter at all. Not until I realized I’d already accidentally found my muse.” He laughs then, but it’s short. “I entered for selfish reasons. Not for the money. Not so that I could get my photos in international shows. But, because I wanted an excuse to get closer to her.”

His eyes scan the crowd, until finally, they land on you. His eyes widen for a moment, lips parting in shock. For a moment, you think he wants you to leave. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.

But he smiles. Really smiles. “None of this would’ve been possible without her.” He continues now, voice more confident. “These photos would’ve sat tucked away in my camera forever. But she made me confident. She reminded me of why I love photography in the first place. So, I’m dedicating this grant to her. To my muse.” His eyes find yours again. “My [Y/N].”

You don’t get a chance to go up to Heeseung until after all of the sponsors have congratulated him, which admittedly takes a lot longer than you think either of you would like.

You can see him on stage, shaking hands with people who you assume must be important. He never keeps his eyes on them for too long. Instead, they trail over to you, like he’s hoping he’ll be able to communicate with you through eye contact.

By the time you can actually speak to him, the hall is mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. He approaches you with caution, like he’s scared of getting too close.

“Hi,” he breathes, stopping a few feet in front of you.

“Hi,” you say back.

The air is softer than it had been the last time you’d seen him. Then, it was harsh. Like smoke filling into your lungs. Now, it feels like a breath of fresh air.

You’re both silent for a moment, like you’re unsure of what to say to each other.

“I broke it off with Sunghoon,” you say eventually, eyes falling to the floor. 

He blinks. “You did?”

“I did.”

“Okay.”

More silence.

“You took pictures of me,” you observe.

“I did.”

“Why?”

He laughs, a full hearty sound, like he’s caught off guard by the question. You don’t know why he would be. You think it’s a perfectly fair thing to ask.

He shrugs, “I felt inspired by you.”

You raise a brow at that. “Inspired? By what—me chewing my pencil like a child?”

He grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. I was inspired by how I felt when I looked at you.”

That makes you pause. “What?”

He fiddles with the corner of his pocket, thumb grazing it once before darting away. He sucks in a deep breath, and then finally, he says everything you know he’s been holding back.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were six years old,” he starts. “Ever since I watched you stay up the entire nap time because Jungwon couldn’t fall asleep. I knew right then and there that I loved you and that I was going to continue to love you for as long as I knew you.”

You can’t help the way your eyes go glassy, heart thumping a million miles an hour in your chest. “Heeseung…”

He doesn’t let you finish. “But I was shy—well, scared is more like it—I was scared that you weren’t going to want to be my friend and I would never be able to be around you.”

“Why would you think that?” 

He shrugs, “why does a third grader think anything?”

You don’t have a reply for that.

He sighs before continuing. “After that it just…became a thing. Our thing. I annoyed you and therefore I got to keep being in your life. Even if it wasn't what I wanted, I figured it was better than not being around you at all.” He swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But then we got to university and you met Sunghoon and I felt you slipping away from me, and I didn’t know what to do with that. I thought that maybe…maybe it was time for me to let you go.”

Your heart cracks at the strain in his voice, like he’s recalling a bad memory.

“So, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Jake came home and started asking me a million questions about our apparent relationship.” 

“Oh, God,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. At the time, it’d genuinely felt like the end of the world. Now, you really can’t imagine where your life would be without Yunjin's lie.

For starters, he probably would’ve never told you this, and you would’ve gone your entire life chopping up your relationship to nothing but a high school rivalry that didn’t have any deeper meaning. You would’ve never found out he felt this way—or that you feel the way you do.

“It was good,” he starts again, “pretending. Even though it wasn’t really pretending for me. And then we went to that diner and I just…I got scared. I didn’t want to hold you back from what you really wanted. I thought, she’s hated me for years, at least now she’ll have an actual reason. And I wanted to be okay with that. I really did.” He takes a step closer. “But now you’re here. And I think I know why, but I’m getting tired of assuming things, princess. So, I think you’ll have to tell me.”

You suck in a shaky breath, your own hands fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously. “I…tried. With Sunghoon. I thought it was what I wanted, the easiness of it all. He was kind and he made bad jokes and I thought I was content with that.” 

You roll your eyes, “But then you happened.” You say it like it’s an insult, but you both know it’s not. “And every time I was with him all I could think was how his car didn’t have that mysterious dent in the front. How he didn’t let me play pop music and pretend he wasn’t singing along when we both knew he was. How he didn't make me feel like I actually meant something to him.” 

Your eyes find his for the first time since he approached you tonight. “All I could think about was how he wasn’t you.”

For a brief second, the only noise between the two of you is your breathing and the faint hum of people around you. Heeseung's lips part, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes in your confession. He’s silent for so long you nearly think you overstepped.

But then he’s taking a step towards you and cradling your jaw with his hand. You don’t move away.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” He says, and the familiarity of his words brings a smile to your face.

“Okay. I trust you.”

And then his lips are on yours.

This kiss is different from the first one. It’s not hungry, not a performance for anyone else. This kiss is solely for you, for the love you’ve found and never plan on losing. It tastes like him and feels exactly like coming home.

His thumb rubs the apple of your cheek, his lips moving against yours slowly. He doesn’t use tongue, but you don’t need him to.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours and brings his hands down to your waist. They feel heavy against you, like a claim you never knew you needed.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs.

You giggle, bringing your own arms up to wrap around his neck. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” he responds, “along with…other things.”

You raise a brow at that, “yeah? Like what?”

That’s exactly how you end up back at his apartment, his lips moving against yours like he’s trying to memorize your body with them. Jake and Sunghoon are out thankfully, which means you’ve got the entire apartment to yourself. 

Heeseung leads you blindly to his room, never once turning away from you or attempting to look where he’s going. You laugh as he trips over the carpet, but he swallows it with his mouth on yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says against you. You don’t even notice you’ve made it into your bedroom before your legs hit the mattress and suddenly, he’s pulling you down onto it. “Been waiting so long to have you like this.”

“Yeah?” You manage to say, your voice airy. “Show me, then.”

He pulls back for a moment, eyes looking directly into yours, and then he’s moving his lips to your neck. He leaves wet kisses down the column of your throat, your shoulder, sucking marks into the delicate skin of your collarbone. 

His teeth graze a particular spot at your neck that makes you gasp, and he processes the noise with a slight groan of his own. He bites down on the spot–not hard, just enough for your back to arch and your fingers to find purchase in his hair. Your legs wrap around his waist as his tongue shoots out to soothe the bite.

Slowly, he brings a hand up to the strap of your dress, his fingers slipping under it but never pulling down.

“Hee,” you practically whine, “please.”

He grins, and then he pulls the strap down ever so slowly. You know he’s teasing you, and the thought makes heat pool between your legs.

Once the dress is off, he throws it to the side and sits back on his heels so he can stare at you. You still have your underwear and bra on, but the sight of your bare stomach and legs is enough for him to let out a low whistle.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” he murmurs. The sincerity in his voice makes your cheeks hot. “So fucking perfect.”

Your lips part to respond, but he leans down and kisses you again. This kiss is different from all the others. It’s messy and deep and pulls noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make.

He sucks on your bottom lip once, and then he pulls away and leaves kisses all down your body. Down your neck, your cloth-covered breasts, your stomach, all the way down until he leaves one final kiss at your ankle. 

He seats himself at the edge of the bed and ever-so-gently pulls you down so your legs hang over the edge of the bed and your cunt is level with his face. He stares at it for a long moment, at the wet patch growing on the lace. At your pretty white panties.

Your hands fist the sheets, legs nearly closing on instinct, but he just pushes them over his shoulders and keeps you open for him. “Don’t hide from me,” he mumbles. His hand slowly trails up your thigh until it finds the edge of your underwear.

He keeps it there for what feels like forever. Never touching. Just looking. 

“Please,” you whimper, “please touch me.”

He grins, “yeah? Want my mouth on you, baby?”

You nod, hips rolling against nothing. “Yes, fuck, please.”

That seems to finally break him, because he licks one large stripe up your cunt through your underwear. You gasp at the feeling, your back arching slightly.

He continues licking small kitten-licks over your panties, and the mixture of his saliva and your arousal begins to turn the cloth nearly translucent.

He groans like the taste of you is his favorite meal. “You taste so good,” he murmurs against you, “like heaven.”

You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out when his tongue catches your clit, and then he brings his hands up to your waist and pulls your underwear down your legs. You don’t miss the way he stares at them for a second before letting them drop to the floor.

He spits on your cunt, watching the way his saliva drips down your slit before he sucks your clit into his mouth.

You cry out at the feeling, your toes curling at his back. He groans at the taste and brings his hands up to your hips, gripping them and keeping them still.

“Fuck,” you moan when he brings his tongue down to your hole, collecting the arousal there like it's his own personal ambrosia.

“All this is for me, right?” He questions, trailing a hand down and rubbing his thumb against your clit. The feeling has your head spinning. “Not for Sunghoon, all for me, isn’t that right, princess?”

You nod feverishly, his possessiveness nearly enough to make you finish right there and then. “Yours! ‘S all yours.”

He smirks, “that’s a good girl.” 

And then he brings a finger to your entrance, circling over it once before letting it slip inside the ring of muscle. The air punches from your lungs at the feeling, but then he sucks your clit into his mouth again while his finger thrusts into you and you really think you’re going to start seeing stars.

“Hee–Heeseung,” you cry, “fuck!”

He hums but doesn’t stop. Instead, he pushes a second finger inside and begins to curl them upwards. You feel him hit that spongey spot inside of you and you know you’re done for.

“I’m close–fuck,”

He doesn’t work you harder, just keeps going at the pace so he can drag out your orgasm for as long as possible. “Come on, baby, cum for me. Show me just how bad you want it.”

That’s all it takes for you to release all over his face and hand. Your muscles tighten and relax over and over again, back arching and vision going white. He groans and licks up every drop, working you through it without a complaint.

You expect him to stop now that you’ve finished, but he doesn’t. If anything, he goes harder. The overstimulation begins to border on the edge of too much, and your hips buck up without your permission.

“Fuck, too much, I cant–”

He doesn’t let up. “Yeah, you can. Come on, wanna see you fall apart for me all over again.”

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to crash over you, and this one nearly leaves your body feeling limp and your pulse to blare against your ears.

Your body is still twitching from aftershocks when he climbs up next to you, and you watch with blurry vision as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean. He hums at the taste and then brings his hands to the hem of his shirt and slips it off.

Your eyes trail over the sight of his bare chest, noting every ridge of muscle and mole, watching the way his chest heaves slightly. He’s absolutely beautiful, like a painting you’d find at some stupidly expensive art show.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur.

Now it’s his turn to blush. His ears and cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, but he brings his lips down to yours before you can tease him for it.

Before you know it, his underwear is off and he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He looks up to you for permission, and you nod at him.

Pressure blooms between your legs as he pushes in, but it isn’t exactly painful. It just feels like something you never knew you needed. Like he was made exactly for you.

You keen, back bowing off the bed and eyebrows knitting together. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and rests his forehead against yours as he finally bottoms out.

You can feel him kissing your g-spot, and he experimentally rolls his hips against yours once. You both groan at the feeling of you tightening around him, and then he pulls out slightly and snaps back in.

You cry out, your nails raking down his back. He hisses slightly at the sting but doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he begins to rock onto you like his life depends on it. You can feel every ridge of his cock; can feel the way it curves at just the right angle. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he gasps, “so perfect. Always knew you would.”

He buries his face into your neck, his hips snapping against yours like his life depends on it. 

You feel yourself getting close, but before you can warn him your back is arching and you're finishing against him.

He cries out, his thrusts beginning to turn sloppy. “Fuck, fuck, I’m–” He finishes inside you without another word, painting your insides with his cum. 

You both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. He pulls out of you with a low breath and then reaches over for something at his nightstand to clean you up silently.

You watch him as he does, noting the way he cleans up your thighs with so much care. He doesn’t rush the aftercare process either, he kisses your skin gently and murmurs sweet words against you.

By the time your thighs stop shaking and you actually feel like you can breathe without your chest caving in, he’s laying down beside you and pulling you against his chest.

You lay there for a moment, feeling the way his chest rises and falls against your back. The warmth from his skin.

“Heeseung?” You mumble.

“Hm?”

You blink, a smile curling onto your lips. “I love you.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “I love you, too.”

And for once, you know that you both mean it.

Your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love. And right now, you know that she was right. Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung used to have everything to do with hate, but now you know it was really just another word for love.