☾*·95z lover·*☽

“Come on,” he insists, locking your system and turning your chair in his direction. “You have to get out of that four walls of darkness you call a room,” his gaze is firm, the frown line between his eyebrows makes you think. He isn’t going to back away like the other times, this time he is serious. 

You fall back into your chair, gnawing on your lower lip. The words on the newspaper glares at you, in mockery or a challenge, you couldn’t say. 

Find your other broken hearted half.. 

It’s been more than a year since you went on a date. You are sure that even the process of dating has changed by now. Fresh after the break up you were relentless, swiping right on guy after guy to rile up your ex, only to end up canceling most of the dates.

The two men you met were good, considerate and even attentive, something you begged from your previous relationship. Their questions and interest in your work, hobbies and daily life solidified their points in gaining the second date. 

If not for the constant comparison to a certain long black haired man, who would be cracking jokes on the other two for their pretentiousness. It’s safe to say that you didn’t get a second date with anyone. Eventually the fire to make your ex jealous and show him what he is missing has died down. 

“Are you still here?” Seungkwan shakes your arm. 

You faze out from your thoughts, “I'm not sure. It’s a lot of work.” You pull your hair to one side, playing with the ends. “I have to dress up, put on makeup and,” you suck in a breath dreading the worst of all, “I have to make stimulating conversations.” 

You click your pen, chewing on your lip, losing yourself in thoughts. What you don’t voice out is the fear of losing someone again and losing yourself in the process of clinging onto him to make him stay. You have done it once, and not sure you could do it again. Especially if it’s someone who is not your Jeonghan. 

Seungkwan holds your hands in his, he says, “you don’t need to put up an act this time.” 

“Hey.” A coworker greets you, crossing the office floor to the elevator. 

Seungkwan presses his lips in a thin line, nodding back at the intruder who is already out of earshot. “Anyway, as I am saying,” he goes back to the topic, “no need for an act. Be yourself and the right one will come.” 

The strong belief in his words sways your stubborn heart a little, a faint hope flickering in your chest. 

“Remember there’s no one you need to get back at this time.” He reemphasizes, “I don’t want to see you pulling that old shit.” 

You nod without a second thought, a little scared of his authoritative tone. 

“Good.” He presses your hand, eyes softening, studying you. “I have a gut feeling that this is going to be your turning point.” He adds, “a good one. You’ll find someone who understands you as you are.” 

The love in his words and caring gestures were what made you you till now. He always dragged you back whenever you were spiraling down the rabbit hole. He doesn’t have a reason to look after you, especially when even your mom has given up on you after a few tries. 

“Oh,” his soft voice makes your eyes moist, “I didn’t want to make you cry.” 

“I know.” 

He ruffles your hair, “straighten up and fight back, my warrior. You can do this.” 

You laugh, wiping the corner of your eyes. “Warrior?” 

“Frontline army?” 

You push him away, “go back, Seungkwan. Our boss is already glaring.” You backspace the crap you have written on the report. “We are one call away from the HR office.” 

“Ugh,” he fixes his tie, “that old retard should find someone else to stalk.” He slowly rolls away to the next cubicle leaving the chair in its rightful place. “Think about it. Okay?” 

“Thank you, Seungkwan.” 

“Anything for you.” 

—

You wake up with a start, your mind in a haze. The rotating ceiling fan spins your head making your dizziness worse. You fight with the comforter rolled around you to free your hand, the movements worsen the pounding in your head. 

“Ugh, Hannie.” You search for the other side of the bed, your fingers tracing the cold bed sheet. “Huh?” 

You open your eyes forcefully, the bright sunshine falling directly on you. You forgot to draw curtains again. The empty space beside you cracks your heart again, the unused pillow still in bright yellow cover mocks you. He is not in your life anymore. You pluck the pillow, hugging it to your chest and inhaling its scent. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. 

The warmth of this pillow doesn’t suffice the warmth of him, his midnight cuddles, kisses all over your face when he thinks you are in deep sleep. Your fingers grasp the edges of the pillow, legs curling into your stomach from the ache echoing your entire body.  

Longing for Jeonghan has become one with breathing. Each moment and thing is closely intricated with his existence, the reminder of him throwing you back into the pits of suffering. You eye your phone resting beside you, the temptation to check his whereabouts is gripping your chest. Your fingers hover over it succumbing to your desires, but no, not this time, not when he never cared about you. Does he even think about you? 

—

Jeonghan smiles at his date reassuringly, “it’s fine. It’s fine. Don’t panic.” He stands up from his seat, approaching her side of the table, “let’s go get you cleaned up.” He holds out his palm, interlacing their fingers.  

His confident stride leads them across linen covered tables, wafts of delicious food surrounding them. Familiarity with this restaurant propels his sense of direction, he took this path countless times. He grips her hand, almost crushing, anchoring himself to the present moment. 

She squeezes back, peering at him through his shoulder. He runs his fingers through his long hair strands, curling the strays behind his ear. She reaches out, tenderly running her fingertips at the back of his head. He ducks his head down, straightening his suit pants. Her steps stumble into one another, her cheeks blushing with embarrassment.  

The kitchen is bustling with waiters coming in and out with orders. A waiter carrying an order is craning his neck, waving his hand to gain Jeonghan’s attention. 

Jeonghan frowns at the unprofessional etiquette of the staff, and the waiter’s relentless efforts only irks him further. It strikes him, the reason behind the enthusiasm of the boy. Jeonghan exhales through his mouth. He knew it was a bad idea to dine in this restaurant, but two years is enough time for people to forget. 

Oh. How he never learns. 

The boy stops in his tracks confused at the lady hiding behind Jeonghan, and the rosary blush on her cheeks complimented with the shy glances at Jeonghan. He drops his hand, unimpressed. 

Jeonghan is annoyed, reading the judgemental stare he is receiving. He presses his lips in a thin line, not sparing another glance he leads his date to the washroom. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.” He leans on the wall opposite to the women’s restroom, pocketing his hands. 

She hurries in with a blush creeping up her cheeks, matching the red of her dress. He would have found it cute once upon a time, and would have even teased a little. But now, Jeonghan throws his head back a sigh escaping his lips, he can’t even bring to crack a joke or worse lead the conversation from topics other than weather or work.  

Silver lining out of all is, this is their second date. Maybe it can lead to something prominent one day. And he can go back to his old ways, find it in himself to laugh and joke around. His gaze flickers to the women’s restroom door, a memory creeping into his mind. 

You spilled wine on yourself on a date with him. He tsks, teased you for a klutz while leading you to the washroom. You expected him to stop outside but you should have known how crazy he was. He checked either side before following you in with a false pretense to help you wipe the stain near your chest. 

You rolled your eyes at him when his thumb caressed a little longer, understanding his actions. You pinch his arm and he bites his lower lip, suppressing a smile. He looks at you in mockery before squeezing your breast, eliciting a moan, he crashes his lips on you. 

“Been a long time,” the waiter reappears before him disturbing him from the memory of his ex. “I hope you remember me.”

Jeonghan’s jaw ticks. The boy, his name tag reads, Dino, is oblivious to Jeonghan's bubbling irritation. He continues, “well, if it was her,” he whispers, checking around for Jeonghan’s date, “she would have recognized me. I can’t believe you let her go.” He shakes his head in disappointment, sneaking glances at Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan stands up straight, looming over the younger boy. Darkness exuding from him, now he doesn’t need some little boy to preach what he missed out. 

Dino, bad with reading cues continues, “well,” he presses, drawing random figures on the serving tray, “can I… get her number?” 

Red flashes in Jeonghan’s eyes, “what?” 

Dino takes a step back, eyes shaking, “I-I-I me-mean..” he shields himself with the tray, “yo-you moved on, so, I thought–”

“Thought what?” Jeonghan spits.

“Th-that I sh-should shoot my shot,” Dino musters up courage, squaring his shoulders, head held high, “she is worth the–”

Jeonghan grabs Dino’s collar, “Fuck off you little—” 

“Jeonghan? Jeonghan?”

His date grabs his arm off the waiter, “are you crazy? Let him go.” 

His date looks at him in worry, her hand still holding onto his arm. Jeonghan snaps at her, “what?” She reels back from him, dropping her hand. Jeonghan closes his eyes, regaining his senses. “Sorry.” 

She nods, not meeting his eyes. He scoffs at Dino scurrying away without looking back. “Let’s go.” He leads the way back to their table. This time he doesn’t hold her hand. She jogs to keep up with his pace, reaching out to his hand only to fail. If she is upset she doesn’t show it when he slips his hands into his pockets. 

—

“I had fun tonight, Hannie.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, leaning into him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers in his ear.  

Jeonghan taps his forefinger against the leather of the steering wheel, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Yeah.” 

She holds his chin, gently nudging him towards her. Her thumb traces his bottom lip, her brown eyes focusing on the slight cracks and splits. “I don’t wanna ask what you are not gonna tell,” she taps on his lip twice, “but I can’t tolerate it happening again.” She holds his gaze, “if I am gonna have you I want all of you.”

He nods. 

She presses a kiss on his lips, her soft ones moving against his static ones. He closes his eyes, shutting down the images of someone who is not his date. He sucks on her bottom lip, the cherry flavour of her lip balm on his tongue. 

He unbuckles the seatbelt, slips his hand around her nape pulling her in. Their lips move in fervent need, tongues clashing, biting and nipping. Soft whimpers fill in the car, her hands roaming across his chest. “So hot.” She runs her hand through his long hairstrands, tugging at their ends, “You look—” she breathes as he nips her bottom lip “—fucking hot.”

He holds her roaming hand, intertwining their fingers, his eyes still closed, kissing her now swollen lips. 

Images of her clouds him, her cheeky smile when he catches her causing ruckus, her droopy eyes yet a blissful look of satisfaction, her kisses in the middle of the night, her taste, her, her, her everywhere. 

Her name slips past his lips in a shaky whisper. He backs away from his date, running a hand through his ruffled hair, “fuck.” He holds the hand slipping away from his grasp, “I am sorry. Sorry, it's just the,” he blinks at her teary face, “the..” he falters. 

“Goodbye, Jeonghan.” She exits the car. Her flowery scent lingering in his car, a constant reminder of what he fucked up just because he couldn’t forget his ex. 

He hits the steering wheel repeatedly. The ghost of his ex is still haunting him, in the corners of his apartment, the track sounds of her favorite sitcom, in his office, and fuck even in his car fiddling with the playlist. 

Does he miss you? He doesn’t (it’s killing him). 

Jeonghan ignites the car, clicking some random playlist on his phone. He reverses the car, driving through the silent empty streets, humming to the songs to clear his mind off the awkward date. 

The community he resides in is a mile away, small stalls and restaurants around the area are bustling. Familiar neighborhood eases his uneasiness. Few more minutes and he can go home to his whiskey and drown himself in sleep. He rolls the car to a stop at a red light. He keeps clicking on the next song. 

Her laughter plays on the speakers. Jeonghan drops his phone in a shock, startled to hear the voice he didn’t hear for months. Her giggles fill in his car, “Hannie, Hannie, baby,” cut off with a moan. 

Next song starts playing and Jeonghan stares at the screen with a frown. What just happened? He clicks on the previous song, the voice note replaying. A car honks behind him, he drops the phone checking the rear view, he accelerates through the green light, and pulls up to the side. 

The voice note replays again and again. The blinkers on his car keep flicking till a police car pulls up to check on him.

—

You fiddle with the silver band on your ring finger, staring at the blank application opened up on your laptop. It has been an hour, and not even one question has been answered. You let out a long sigh, still confused, still hesitant whether you are truly ready to give love a chance again. The questions are simple, What’s your heartbreaking story? The answer to them isn’t, you are not sure you can rehash your heartbreak in words, without getting the need to find him and see how life has been treating him. 

You close the laptop and throw it aside on the bed, burying yourself in the comforter, staring at the unoccupied side of the bed and bright yellow pillow. A stray tear wets your pillow, your hand tracing the empty bedside. 

—

Jeonghan punches in the words on his keyboard with force since he can’t punch the person in the face. He sits back cross-checking the draft email just in case his thoughts are translated into words subconsciously. Another visit to the HR will for sure land him in trouble. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His senior, Soobin, raps his knuckles on the table. 

Great, Jeonghan can feel the universe breathing down his neck today. He folds the laptop screen, reclining in his seat listening to the rant.

“I can’t believe you messed up man.” Soobin rakes his hand through his hair, plopping on the empty chair, rolling the paper weights around the table. “She is the hottest one dude.” A sleazy grin on his lips, “a goddess in that red dress.” He mimics the shape of her waist line with his hands. Jeonghan raises his eyebrow at the detail. Soobin smiles sheepishly, adding, “She posted a picture on her account.”

Jeonghan wants to throw up at the vulgarity. “If you find her attractive then why don’t you date her?” He opens his laptop back, sending the mail.

“Have to wait till I break up with my current one.” He says with remorse. 

Jeonghan grits his teeth, irritation bubbling up in his chest. He tries to tone it down before it escalates into something like throwing him out of his room or worse, throwing a punch. He doesn’t have it in him to sort through another mess and complicate his already stressful life. 

Soobin, not heeding to any hints radiating from Jeonghan, dips his fingers into forbidden waters. “But, come on, man.” He leans in with a wicked expression, “admit it she is the hottest one out of all of your exes. And waaaay better than that sorry shit of your ex. I can’t believe you were stuck up on her. She was boring as hell, and I bet the sex was as dull as—” 

Jeonghan isn’t sure of his movements, how and when the things ended up in the way they did. Soobin is on the floor, spitting blood. Jeonghan holds the floor, helping himself to stand up from his senior’s body. Grabbing the opportunity, Soobin throws a punch. 

Jeonghan falls back on his ass, his ears ringing and knuckles ache like fuck. He clutches his head, watching Soobin scramble on the floor, sliding away from him. Their CEO is standing at the door barking at them. 

He stands up, flicking his hand and stretching his fingers. He grabs Soobin before he can go hide behind their head and puts his all into one last punch. 

The CEO drags bloody Jeonghan to his cabin while Soobin is taken to the hospital. “You were up for promotion next month,” the CEO scolds, “a director can’t hit a coworker in broad daylight.” 

This followed a two hour long lecture mixed with threats of termination. All the while Jeonghan stares outside the window, two birds coddling. Strangely, he is jealous of two birds for having something he once had. 

“Yoon Jeonghan!” The head of the company snaps, “do you feel any remorse for bruising one of our most important employees?” 

Jeonghan massages the ache in his hand, did he break his bones? He did keep punching Soobin’s jaw until he saw red. 

“He had it coming.” He stands up, buttoning up his suit. “I’m quitting. You can write it up as terminated or whatever makes your ass happy.” 

—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” 

You wake up with a jerk, disoriented. Light floods your room, blinding you for a second, and someone is singing happy birthday. A cake with a burning candle is shoved in your face, and were those cats on the cake. 

“Blow it,” a high-pitch voice screams in your ears. 

You blow the candle, still lost in the happenings in the middle of the night. Cheers and claps snaps you out of your drowsiness, awakening your brain. 

Seungkwan is busy squashing the remnants of cake on his girlfriend’s face, and your roommate is standing awkwardly near your bed end. You search for your phone, finding it under your pillow, you read the date. Ah, birthday. 

Messages from your friends and family flood your phone, a hope births inside you, maybe, maybe he remembered and wished you this time. You scroll through the notifications slowly in case you miss it. None. Tears brim your eyes, stupid heart, why does it still hope? 

“Come on, come on.” Seungkwan drags you out of your bed and into the living room, blasting music and orchestrating a sudden dance battle. You laugh at their antics, momentarily forgetting about the heartache.

— 

“We should go for drinks,” Seungkwan announces in the middle of you enjoying each bite of cold noodles. “Enjoy the fact you become a year older and wiser.” He stirs his chopsticks around the noodles.

“Overnight?” You raise an eyebrow, slurping in the noodles. 

The waiter refills the water jug, sets it on the wooden table with a clang. You grab Seungkwan’s glass, filling it to the brim before the waiter has an opportunity to do it. “Thank you,” you smile at the younger male, assuming a college student working for extra pocket money, “we got it. Go and take a breather.” You shoo him away. 

He bows in gratitude, scurries away grabbing the opportunity of a five minute break. You chuckle reminiscing about your days of waiting tables.

“Too kind,” Seungkwan berates, sipping on the water. “It’s gonna bite your ass someday.” 

“I can’t drink.” You go back to the main topic, “it’s weekday. I have an early meeting tomorrow,” you set the chopsticks down at the soar reminder, “a round of drinks sounds good tho.” You sigh wistfully, “but what can one do? I’m not young anymore to bound back after a night of drinking.” 

Seungkwan chews at his food a little louder for your taste. “This must be what they mean by growing pains. And you can’t handle drinks. It’s better to not have you drunk since we have an important meeting tomorrow.” He grabs the menu from the holder, skimming through the noodles section again. “Their noodles are tasty.” He murmurs, “ah,” he taps on a ramyeon picture. 

He flags down the waiter from before who approaches your table with merriment. Seungkwan narrows his eyes at the wandering gaze of the waiter towards you. 

“One ramyeon,” Seungkwan orders, “and a drink please.” 

“Anything else for the beautiful lady over here?” His dimple pops out waiting for you to swallow your food. 

“No, thank you.” You twirl the noodles around the chopsticks, you slurp the cold noodles enjoying the flavours bursting in your mouth. 

Seungkwan chuckles, “poor boy. Look at him walk away like a sad puppy.” 

“Huh?”

He shakes his head, “nothing.” He sets his chopsticks down, “did you hear that there’s restructuring happening? I just hope I won’t be transferred again,” he huffs, folding his hands, “I don’t want to leave Nari.” 

“And you,” he adds, after a beat. 

The meat floats in the broth, you dunk it deeper into the liquid. You prefer to not be mentioned at all rather than being added as an afterthought. Being someone’s priority is a luxury you realized, not after the break up, but rather when you were in a five year long relationship with your ex. 

The nights you laid on the bed waiting for your lover to join you were countless, his disinterest in your enthusiasm, and his laid back answers were the slow killers. Labeled as needy and clingy when asked for attention was the threshold point. And yet, you begged him to stay. 

A green feeling bubbles in your chest, stabbing the meat piece you nod to Seungkwan’s rant absentmindedly. You catch bits and pieces of how his girlfriend suffered from the long distance during his last transfer, and how he was helpless to pacify her. If only you got a transfer and Jeonghan was desperate for you back then, would he have realized your value? Does he realize your value now? 

The answer was glaring back at you. You have seen, stalked, his dates and flings profile, how happy he is, smiling at the pictures, posing intimately and sharing something that was yours first with strangers. How can he be happy after ruining you for anyone else? Making you incapable of loving someone else? Why, only you, can’t replace him where he is mingling as if you never existed?

—

You peek from your computer at the manager’s cabin. He is in a meeting with a team, and it doesn’t end for another thirty minutes. You click the third link of the web results for Get Love Quick. The cursor at the name field blinks, waiting for your input. 

It requires a lot more than momentary courage, you realized, your fingers hover over the keyboard hesitant. Are you really ready for this new step in life? The silver band ring glimmers under the fluorescent lights, you take it off and throw it in the drawer. You are going to fill in the form and submit it. If you are matched then it is a future you’s problem. 

Filling in the basic information was a breeze, you crack your knuckles preparing yourself for the big ones. 

What’s your heartbreaking story? 

The keys click-clacks under your fingers, momentary pauses, a tear rolling down your cheek. You hover over the exit button unable to articulate  it in words, but you don't want to give up. Not this time. 

By the time you press submit, the office is half empty. You check for your friend, he is clutching his head and looking close to breakdown. You clock out of the system for the day, grabbing your things and sauntering towards your distressed friend. 

“What’s wrong?” You grab an empty chair and settle next to him. 

Seungkwan looks up at you with red eyes, softly whispering your name. 

“Hey,” you panic, “tell me what happened?” You hold his hands bracing yourself. 

“My name is on the list for transfer,” his voice quivers, “I have to fill in an empty position at this new branch.” 

Your heart aches watching your friend breakdown. “Is there no other way?” 

He pulls his blue tie free, “I am not sure. God, I didn’t inform her yet. I just,” he exhales loudly, “I wanna try requesting the manager or the higher ups.” 

You nod slowly, gears turning in your mind. Seungkwan has been a steady pillar in your life even during the times of crisis. He didn’t walk away when you pushed him off your life. 

“By when you have to transfer?” 

“Soon, there’s an urgent requirement in Yangsan.” he answers, “I hate it so much. Why always me?” 

You pat his shoulders, “I know. But I think it will work out in your favor this time.”

He scoffs, shutting down the computer, and packs his stuff into his bag. “It never works out. One suffering after another is the theme of my life.” 

“Believe me, Seungkwan.” You smile. 

He pauses in his track, narrowing his eyes, “I know that smile. Don’t do anything stupid, please.” 

You smile wider. 

—

Jeonghan cradles nearly empty whisky glass to his chest, spreading his legs wide on the couch, reclining back. He sips from the bottle watching six friends lounging in the flat yapping on the TV screen, the laugh track accompanying the show irks him. How can one find comfort from this show? He can never understand it, but he never stops watching it again and again. 

He sips on the last drops of the drink, shaking it in hopes to get more out of it. He discards it on the floor, and grabs his phone. 

His thumb brushes over the date displayed on the phone. He used to be busy on this day in previous years, planning the day to its perfection, wooing his girl with carefully crafted plans and in the last two years buried in work. 

He misses his home being filled with delicious scents of his cooking her favourites, her laughter at some stupid reruns of sitcoms. It’s been so long since his home and his life has seen some daylight. 

His thumb hovers over her chat, uncertainty brimming up in his chest. He shouldn’t text her, he reiterates to himself. He scrolls through her unanswered texts right after their break up. 

Please. I’ll be better. 

-baby, May

Hannie… how can you do this to me? 

-baby, May

Don’t leave me, Jeonghan. Please, I can’t live without you. It can’t be that easy to leave me. I beg you. I’ll do whatever you want. I will text you less, call you less, and we can live separately and only visit once a day. Don’t leave me Jeonghan. 

-baby, May

[Voicenote 1:43 mins]

-baby, May

Jeonghan quickly scrolls past the voice note, he doesn’t have enough guts to hear you breaking down. If he does he will be standing outside your home, asking you to come back to this toxic union. Somewhere his mind nags, was it always toxic or were you scared to admit your wrongdoings?

Ridiculous

-baby, June 

For my sake? For my sake you broke up????? 

-baby, June

Be honest there’s someone else right?

-baby, June 

You wanted to get rid of me to be with her

-baby, June

Explains the late nights and unanswered calls 

-baby, June

YOON JEONGHAN YOU FUCKING BASTARD ASSHOLE AND AND I love you Jeonghan please… please reply I beg you

-baby, July 

I’ll change myself the way you want Jeonghan I won’t be needy please I will give you your space I would be one with the wall in your life as long as I can see you everyday I am okay with anything 

-baby, July

Did you loathe me that bad? I heard you already moved on. Is she prettier? Is she self-sufficient? Is she better than me?

-baby, August 

[photo of your date holding your hand]

-baby, August 

Ah so you really don’t care about me anymore. 

-baby, August 

I gave you five years of my life. You could have ended it in the first year. Could have spared me the heartache.

-baby, September 

It feels like dying. Is this how people feel in their last moments? How can you be so happy while I’m scraping myself off the floor? 

-baby, October 

Happy birthday

-baby, October 

Good luck with your life.

-baby, December

Jeonghan notices the unsent message sitting in the type bar. 

Should we try again 

He contemplates on sending it, but decides otherwise. He backspaces the message, he scrolls deeper into their conversation when things are rainbows and sunshine. 

Hannie Hannie my dear Hannie saw you again in the sky shining brighter than ever… my sun 🌞

-baby

😒

-Jeonghan 

Get back to work 

-Jeonghan 

He remembers smiling ear to ear in the office, rereading her message in the singsong tone of hers. He was fluid like water throughout his work that day, acing every meeting and task, humming all along. 

Saw a baby playing with a baby chick 🐤 

[photo] 

-baby

Sooooooooooo CUTE 

-baby

I JUST WANT TO GO AND BITE HIS CHEEKS 

-baby

Can I do that 🥺

-baby

Didn’t know our date is at jail tonight

-Jeonghan

Jeonghan laughs at their conversation. Rolling onto his side he scrolls deeper. He sniffles, tears falling onto the cushion. He wipes his blurry eyes, reading the conversation from another day.  

Rant incoming 

-baby

Uh oh  

-Jeonghan

That freaking bastard retard good for nothing asshole and the worlds most dumbest high paid person. How the fuck he got a job. Mr.know it all knows nothing. NOTHING EXCEPT MAKING MY LIFE HELL 

-baby

HAVE TO WORK OVERTIME AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!! 

-baby 

I MISS MY MAN!!!

-baby 

(I miss you too)

-Jeonghan

BUT DUE TO THAT FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT.. OH HANNIE MY PRECIOUS BABY MY LITTLE MUNCHKIN 

-baby 

[Incoming call from baby]

Jeonghan wishes he can go back to the time when you called him all the sweet things in the world. If the universe or whoever is out there, is willing to give them one more chance will he take it up? Maybe or maybe not. 

When will you be back? I miss you 

-baby 

… 

-Jeonghan 

Come on. It’s been like thirty minutes

-Jeonghan 

What can I do? 

-baby 

Your cum is still running down my thighs reminding me of you 🤷‍♀️

-baby 

FUCK 

-Jeonghan 

YOU CANT PULL THAT CARD 

-Jeonghan 

☹️ okayyyy don’t worry I pushed it all back in. 

-baby 

Happy golfing Hannie!!! Win and come home 🥰😘

-baby 

You DEVIL 

-Jeonghan 

I’m coming home

-Jeonghan 

😇😇😇

-baby 

Jeonghan locks his phone, closing his eyes, tears rushing out. A ripping pain in his chest makes him curl up into a ball, he holds himself, all the pain inside of him bursting out. The silence of his apartment is now broken with whimpers and cries for help. It's been so long since he felt something, he doesn’t want to continue to live in this pain. He doesn’t have the will or fighting spirit left in him. 

He messed with his career for the sake of his ex, he stopped going out with his friends, and it's been so long since he talked with his parents. Another sob escapes him remembering how you used to hold him whenever he felt low. Despite the thousand fights they had, you were always there to catch him. You are his sun, not the other way around. He is stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He ended things for their own good. He realised that no matter how much you love someone, sometimes you just end up hurting each other. He couldn’t bear seeing you standing in the middle of the apartment everyday mid fight with tears spilling out.  

He knows he is the problem, he wasn’t mature enough to handle his love with care, love and affection, the only thing you wanted out of him. He only gave you pain, sadness and a reason to cry. He was the source of your unhappiness. He tried to be a source of happiness, but things slipped right through his fingers.  

If only he could be more like how you wanted him, maybe today he would have been curled up in your warmth instead of the coldness of his apartment. 

—

The office is swarming, phones ringing, and hellos echoing around. You keep checking the manager’s cabin, eyeing the expressions of the director, manager and Seungkwan through the glass doors. It is hard to catch their words, or read their lips, as it is a few cubicles down from yours. You send a document to print, slipping on your heels, you march towards the printer next to the cabin. 

Seungkwan catches you, shaking his head subtly before answering to the director. The printer spits out the papers slowly with a wheezing sound, you adjust your hair straining your ears to catch at least a few words.

“... branch needs you,” the director’s firm tone makes you wince, “or…” you lose some words as the printer whirs loudly, and you swear you heard your name, “..can go in your place.”

“I am not sure,” Seungkwan replies, “I can’t..”

A colleague of yours watches you in suspicion, his eyes darting from you to the cabin you are eavesdropping. Fuck, he is HR. You bow in greeting, laughing, pointing at the old printer dying to print out some documents. He nods, mumbling a feeble, keep up the good work. 

You collect the papers just in time the director walks out of the cabin, noticing you, he smiles warmly in greeting before walking to his cabin. Seungkwan closes the manager’s cabin behind him, his lower lip wobbly at the sight of you. You step in with him to his cubicle, “what happened?”

Seungkwan lets out a big groan, “I have to start relocating by the end of the month.” He rubs his temples, “I have to tell her tonight.” He checks the time on his watch, “and she was looking forward to our date,” his voice shakes a little, “only for me to pour water over all her excitement.”

He plops down on his seat, keying in his password. You lean against his desk, thumbing the pages, “you know,” you muster up the courage, “I want to ask for this transfer.” You quickly add before he can jump in, “I really want this transfer, Seungkwan. I think..” you trail off, your voice dropping an octave, “I am done with this city.”

You blink back the tears with a laugh, you set the papers on his desk, turning away from him. “I am planning to talk it out with the manager, and,” you look at him from the corner of your eyes, “ask to get off your back.” 

He smiles, tapping his fingers on the armrest, “I don't want you to force yourself for my sake.” He raises his hand, stopping you from defending yourself, “someone going away in my place will loosen my burden but I don’t want that to be you. Got my point?”

“I understand, but,” you meet his eyes head on, “I really want to get out of this place, Seungkwan. I don’t have any fond memories left–” Seungkwan scoffs “–apart from our hangouts, of course.” 

With a deep inhale, you blurt out, “everywhere I go, I see us. I search for him everywhere,” you wipe away the stray tear, “I don’t want to live this way. Not when he is happy somewhere, in someone’s arms.”

Seungkwan evades your gaze, clicking on some email, “about that..” 

“I don’t wanna hear anything else.” You square up your shoulders, “I am going in now and ask for the transfer.” 

Seungkwan calls out your name but you are already at the manager’s cabin. 

—

“Cheers,” you clink the glasses with Seungkwan’s and Nari’s. You dunk the contents in a single gulp, a bitter sigh escaping your lips. 

“Congrats on the new role,” she congratulates, with a beaming smile, “I am very happy for you.” 

Seungkwan sips on his soju, not joining in the party of your transfer and beginning of new life. His girlfriend, not knowing the reason behind his silence, chats away about her new boss and the funny antics of his. 

Seungkwan grills the meat, the sizzling sounds of the meat grabs your attention more often than you let on. He places the cooked meat on Nari’s plate, your eyes fall on your empty plate, and the growling of your stomach. You pour yourself another glass of soju, laughing at the reenactment of the fall of her new boss. 

“I couldn’t not laugh!” she fans herself, “but I was the only one with a loud laugh. He saw me, I just hope he won’t get his revenge.” 

You grab the cooked meat from the grill, and blow on it, “he wouldn’t. You are one hard working person. He is lucky to have you on his team.”

She blushes, fumbling with her thumbs. Seungkwan drops the tongs, brushing her pink cheeks. You excuse yourself to the washroom, grabbing your phone. Few messages from your colleagues congratulating on the promotion, and also sad for the transfer. Your heels halt when the email from the Get Love Quick sits on your notifications. 

You open the washroom stall, and lock yourself in, calming your nerves. You open the mail.

Dear Heartbroken soul,

Thank you for choosing us to direct you to true love. We are sad to hear your pain, and with all the shit life threw at you, we just want to apologize on behalf of life. Along with the apology we also want to throw in some delight by informing you that, *drum roll*, your date has been fixed for this Sunday. Please find the venue details below. 

Ps. As a tradition of Get Love Quick the details of your date is a surprise. Builds the anticipation *wink wink*. 

With love,

Get Love Quick

It’s already Friday today, one more day and then you have a date. Your clammy fingers don't help in clicking the venue details in the maps. You rub your sweaty palms onto your skirt, and try again typing the details. This cafe is forty minutes drive away from your apartment. 

Is it worth it? You are about to move away from this place in a couple of weeks. You have to start packing away, look for a house in the new city, and break the news to your family and friends. Who would be interested in someone who isn’t available after the first date? Highly unlikely to convert this date into a long distance relationship. A part of you believes that there’s no aspect of you that will be appealing to the other person to make him leave everything too. 

For now you put the date on the back burner. You have one more day, and it's Sunday you to decide. 

Completing your business in the washroom, you saunter back to the table, slowing down, giving space to the couple kissing. You fiddle with the promotion mails on your phone, coughing into your fist before sliding onto your stool. Seungkwan hangs his hand around his girl, color coming back in his face. Ah, she does hold the key to his heart, no wonder he was desperate to stay. 

No matter how happy you are for them, to have each other through ebbs and flows, watching them, or spending time with a couple opens a part inside you that you aren’t proud of. It reminds you of what you don’t have in your life, or what you once had. 

“I’m done for the day,” you fake yawn, “my uber is on the way, I will meet you on Monday.” You sling your handbag, walking away before he can understand the urgency in your exit. 

“You didn’t even eat anything.” He points the tongs to your full plate, “why are you leaving so soon?”

“I’m tired from all those meetings, and I am not feeling good. Need some rest.” 

If he has doubts about your poor acting, he doesn’t comment on it. You greet them good night, exiting the restaurant.  

— 

The cafe is in a run down building, the ivy creeps all over the creaks, and the light illuminating the cafe name flickers. Sweet Life. No soul is seen around the empty street, a cat mewls from the garbage can, and rustling of covers echoes. The sun is already setting with an orange hue across the sky. You share your location with Seungkwan just in case, tugging the neckline of your dress up, you open the rusty door.

“Welcome!” A woman greets from the whirring coffee machine. “Please find a seat.”

You bow in a greeting, and turn to the almost empty cafe except for, your breath catches in your throat, one person. Your feet stay rooted, your gaze not moving from him, and him staring back at you with his lips parted. The exit door is two steps away, you can run away and sleep it off like it's a bad dream. 

The door rattles open, two sleazy men brush past you, stinking of alcohol. You grab the half open door, quickly slipping past the door, your vision blurry making your ankle twist a few times. You sit on your feet, leaning against the wall, rubbing your eyes and the runny nose with the back of your hand, your breathing becomes irregular. Seungkwan. You need him to tell you what to do. You search for your phone in your wallet, dropping the papers, lip balm and keys on the road. 

You gasp for air, breathing in through your mouth, hitting your chest. Five things. List down five things, you see a crumpled tin on the pavement, you smell stinky garbage, and you hear the crack of the door opening. Two black shoes step beside you, and you smell of him. 

Jeonghan separates a tissue from the stack, and holds the back of your head, wiping your tears. You push his hand away, shaking your head trying to get out of his grasp. He grips onto your neck, pulling you closer to him, his teary eyes glaring back at you. He cleans your wet cheeks. “Breathe in,” he commands, “one..two..do it,” he pleads. 

You turn away from his touch. He sighs, kneeling on one foot, “I get it,” his voice wavers, “I know you don’t want me here.” He wipes the corner of your eyes, and below your eyes, “but let's get you calm down.” He whispers, “please, ba–” he clears his throat “–not for me but for you, okay?”

“I-It’s be-because,” you gasp for air, “of y-you.” 

Jeonghan sits next to you, on the dirty pavement, “I know.” He holds a fresh tissue to your nose, “I am sorry.” His eyes run across your face, “I didn’t know, or else,” he trails off. 

You grab the tissue from him, and blow your nose, sitting on your bum next to him. “Or else you wouldn’t have come.” You hiccup, folding the tissue, “like always.”

He grabs the used tissue from you, stacking all of them next to him. He hands you a new one. Both of you sit in silence, his shoulder leaning against yours, while you catch your breath. 

He picks up your discarded items and puts them back in your wallet, “are you good now?” 

You pick on the ends of the tissue, sniffling, why is he my date out of all? Jeonghan clasps your wallet shut, drumming his fingers on the black surface of it, his long messy strands obscuring his face. 

He is here, next to you, after almost two years, breathing and you can feel his warmth unlike the Jeonghan in your dreams. But why now? When you were all set to move on with someone, anyone new. Leaving everything and him behind in a couple of weeks. What kind of cruel joke is the universe playing now? 

“Better than when you left me,” you reply. The bitterness in your words flinches him, he drops his head to his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. You scoff, “are you nervous now?” How dare you feel nervous? 

Jeonghan sighs, “I get it you hate me.”

“Hate, Jeonghan? Hate? You ruined me. You left me to tend to myself. I..” your voice wavers, remembering standing outside his apartment, begging him to open up, “what is the point anyway. Reiterating everything won’t change anything.” You grab your wallet from him, you hold onto his thigh helping yourself stand, “you will still be that bastard and I will still be.. me.” 

Jeonghan stands up, falling in step with you as you walk without any direction and your anger being the only navigator. “I’m sorry,” he holds your wrist, turning you to him, “I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You hit his chest, he stumbles back, “do you think saying sorry will heal me? All those nights,” you are crying again, “all…” you hit him, “those..” another hit “nights..” he accepts all your hits. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying that!” You shout. “You don’t even mean it.” You grab his shirt, his familiar warm woody scent cracks your semblance. “You don’t even.. mean it.” You inch closer, nuzzling into his chest, inhaling his scent. 

God, no!

You push him away, “no, no, no.” You turn around, running away from him and the dead feelings sprouting back. 

Few more steps and you will reach the road. Some taxis should be there for you to go back home. Before you can come into proper light, he tugs you back. 

“Please,” he begs, “one chance. One dinner,” he holds your hands, squeezing them. 

The streetlight falls on him, you forget your anger for a moment, reaching to his brown bruise on his chin and split lips. “What happened to you?” 

He leans into your palm, closing his eyes, tears falling onto your arm. He grips onto your other hand, “please, one more chance.” 

“What makes you think you deserve it?” 

Jeonghan slowly opens his eyes, his brown eyes flicking across your face, “you still carry my picture.” He holds up your left hand, tracing the print of the ring that used to be on your ring finger.  

You shove his hand away, “I’m not meeting you anytime soon. Or anymore.” 

You sink in the new details of him one last time, he lost weight, and the dark circles under his eyes are prominent. The bruise on his cheek is dark, and the split on his lip is red with blood. What on earth is he doing with himself? You don’t have it in you to know the reason, scared you will crumble here and now, taking him back into your life in a beat.

“Have a good life, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan speaks up, halting you from moving away. “When you are not wanted or needed by anyone then you cease to exist.” You look in his eyes, the dark ones hold yours, “The moment,” he is towering over you, clad in black long coat, “you walked away, my existence went away with you.” He silences you, pressing his finger onto your lips, “I am an idiot who didn’t realize your worth and,” he brushes your cheek with his thumb, “took you for granted.

“I tried everything, baby,” he rests his head over yours, bending to your height, “nothing is you. I was searching for you in everyone,” his breath hits your forehead, “and no one is you. I am not asking you to take me back,” you look in his eyes, “yet. One dinner, one chance is all I ask.”

When he meets your silence, he calls out your name in a soft whisper. “Baby,” he pulls your chin up, “one dinner.” 

And you crumble like a historic building holding years of past, falling apart. You are nodding to his request even before you know. 

—

The day’s heaviness settles on your shoulder, the entire ride back home has been a blur. Pushing past the door, you enter your apartment, leaving your high heels and keys. Seungkwan is already at your flat, lounging on the couch, eating your snacks. He springs to his feet, rushing towards you, “what happened? Why are you crying?” 

You throw your wallet onto the coffee table, the potato chip bag crunching under your feet as you make your way to the couch. Seungkwan sits next to you, questioning you. Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, he grabs it at a lightning speed, opening it and his eyes going wide, dropping the phone on the carpet. 

“Fuck.” 

He pulls you into a bear hug. You sob into his shoulder, incoherent words leaving your lips in an attempt to explain what happened. He pats your head, cooing comforting words. 

“He is there, Seungkwan.” You rub your eyes, “he is my date. How can this happen?” 

“I am sorry,” he holds your arms, tears in his eyes, “I am so sorry. It’s all because of me, I shouldn’t have forced you to–”

“No,” you pick your phone from the carpet, unlocking it. “It would have happened sooner or later.” 

Did you reach home safely?

-Hannie

“Block him.”

Locking your phone, you hide it behind you. “Can’t.” 

He frowns, “why?”

You drop your gaze to your lap, “we are meeting on Tuesday for dinner.” 

The expletives leaving from Seungkwan’s mouth makes you shut your ears. “Hand me over your phone now.” He extends his palm, waiting. Your bottom lip quivers, you give a slow shake of your head. “For fuck’s sake.” He reaches for it, and you hold it with your entire being. 

“Listen to me, listen to me,” you plead, Seungkwan reclines back in his seat. “He just wanted one dinner,” you raise your arm when Seungkwan opens his mouth, “only one dinner. And with my schedule, I won’t be able to meet him more than that.” You reason. “I will be away, and he won’t be there. I think this will be the end.”

“End my foot.” Seungkwan snatches the phone from you, and hits the block button. “He is back at it again. Getting into fights, summoned by po—”

“Fights?” 

Seungkwan bites his tongue in grimace. “Nothing.”

“Seungkwan.” Your voice is firm, thinking about the bruises on his face. What on earth is he up to? Fights? You knew he had some issues managing his tongue but he never hit someone out of anger. “What are you hiding?” 

Seungkwan clutches his head in a groan, leaning back on the couch. “I’ll tell you if you promise me you won’t meet him.” 

You gape at him, your lips opening and closing without a single word escaping. Anger seeps into your thoughts, hating the way Seungkwan is interfering in your life. “I am telling you that it's going to be only one dinner!” 

He flinches at your sharp voice, glaring back at you. “And I know you!” He fights back, “I saw you. It's not gonna be a single dinner.” 

He holds your arm, handing you your phone back. “I am not against you,” he stands up, “I was with you, am with you and will always be.” 

Guilt crawls into your heart, god, it’s happening again. How can you lash out at Seungkwan? This is exactly why Jeonghan re-entering your life is catastrophic. The chaos he left took you long enough to calm it down. And now with your behavior you aren’t sure Seungkwan is going to stay with you this time. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize, staring at the blocked contact on your phone, tracing his message. You lock the phone, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have,” you gesture between you two, “I’m sorry. I won’t meet him.” 

Seungkwan takes your hands in his, sitting next to you, “you have to believe me.” You nod, not meeting his gaze. “I know it seems tempting and you want to have him back but,” he tilts to the side, wanting you to look at him, “he is not worth it. Not worthy of your love.”

Flashes of Jeonghan holding you, calming you and wiping your tears and snort crosses your mind. The tenderness in his gestures, regularizing you out of the anxiety attack, and the desperation to meet you one more time. If this ain’t love then what is? 

But you don’t say this to Seungkwan, he wouldn’t understand you or Jeonghan. Your relationship with Jeonghan wasn't smooth sailing like Seungkwan’s is. You had your high tides, heavy rains and darkest sails but he was your port, your anchor, and the morning always came. 

“Yeah,” you pull your arms out of his hold. “Go home, Seungkwan, it’s late.” 

He is silent for a few seconds, but stands up ready to leave. 

“Should I know why Jeonghan is involved in fights?” You ask from the couch. 

Seungkwan holds the door open, turning to you, “it's better if you don’t.”

So it is because of you.

—

Packing your entire life and moving away isn’t as easy as you thought it would be. The boxes around you are overwhelming, and yet the packing is the only thing that’s keeping you sane. 

It’s been a week since your meeting with Jeonghan. Work has been hectic leaving you little time to think about the notifications of the blocked contact. It feels like a drink is placed before a recovering alcoholic, tempting yet restraining yourself. 

Your phone lights up again with another notification of the blocked caller. You flip the phone, tackling the old clothes into a box. Why did you buy all of these? Folding an old sweater your attention drifts to your phone. One call or text wouldn’t hurt, right? Or unblocking him is not going to hurt you. He is your Jeonghan after all. 

Shaking yourself out of it you shove the sweater into the box. You kneel down on the floor, bending to grab the clothes shoved inside of your cupboard. Jeonghan’s. Hoodies and oversized T-shirts of his you loved to wear. 

You pluck the blue oversized tee, running your hand over the softness, a laugh tumbling out of you at the memory.

He spent an entire week searching for the tee only to find you wearing it one night. He stood near the kitchen counter, hands folded across his chest, pissed. 

You didn’t dare to acknowledge him knowing he is waiting for you to give in. Or some explanation on why you searched for the tee along with him when you are very well aware where it is hiding.  

You chop the carrots into thin slices and pretend he isn’t standing near you. He scoffs, his slippers hitting against the wooden floors as he approaches you. You slithered to the side slowly, peeking over your shoulders. 

Anger is replaced with a lopsided grin on his face, he drags you to him by the shirt. He locks your wrists behind your back and grabs your face, leaving stinging kisses. Hearing your grumbles, and chasing lips for his’ in need of a proper kiss, he spanks your ass muttering, “punishment.”

You stuff his clothes into an empty moving box before it can pull you into the darkness of his memories. Wiping your tears with your shirt sleeve. The phone lights up yet with another notification. Another call from the blocked contact. 

A sob leaves your lips, why is he so insistent now? After all these months why is he adamant on talking to you. The urge to unblock him and text him is uncontrollable, but Seungkwan’s words run through your mind. You imagine his disappointed face once he knows that you didn’t listen to him, and honestly you are a little scared that he will stop talking to you. You are scared that the only person who cares about you will leave you, just like everyone else. 

Clearing the notifications you shoot a text to Seungkwan. 

Need to drop these off at Jeonghan’s. 

-sent

I’ll drop by and do that. 

-Seungkwan

One last glance at the box containing his clothes you are overcome by the need, and pluck one of his black hoodies. You pull over the hoodie, hugging yourself as you curl up on the floor next to a half filled trolley and dozens of boxes. 

—

Jeonghan is pacing around his living room, chewing on the unlit cigarette. He dials your number again and again. Blocked? How can you block him? You didn’t delete him away after the break up, but you did it now? Not when you agreed to meet him for dinner, and he can tell a lie, especially when it's coming from you. 

He drops the cigarette on the couch rustling through his drawers for the unused phone. It should have another sim, if he can contact you with it he can end this torture. Going to your house is also an option that he considered dearly, he didn’t want to cross that last boundary. Not especially when you are putting up a wall for some reason. Oh, how he so wants to fuck the rules. 

The knock on his door garners his attention from throwing the notebooks and mail from the drawer like a raccoon sifting through trash. He runs his hand through his unkempt hair watching Seungkwan standing outside his door. He leaves the door open, massaging the space between his eyebrows. Seungkwan visiting him will never end in peace.  

“Here.” Seungkwan throws a bag onto the couch. The bag bounces off the couch and falls on the floor. “Your clothes.” 

Jeonghan turns around at those words, frowning. His clothes? Why would Seungkwan have–ah. He pads over the strewn notebooks and papers on the floor, reaching for a new cigarette, his fingers shaky. The bits and pieces aligning themself, the abandoned dinner, blocked contact, and now—his clothes. He glares over his shoulder at the man who is ruining his life, along with yours. You would never ever even dare to discard a single message from him. 

“Don’t ever contact her.” Seungkwan warns, completing surveying Jeonghan’s dumpster called home. “She finally moved on.”

Jeonghan rests his hand on the wooden surface, the cigarette crushing between his fingers. He tilts his head to the side, giving a once-over at the friend of his ex. “Did she, now?”

Seungkwan takes a threatening step forward, “Don’t you dare, Yoon Jeonghan.” He fists his hand, “you are a bastard, and have you seen yourself,” he spits, “do you think she needs someone like you?” 

Images of you laughing at his mess and swatting his shoulder before dragging him to clean up crosses his mind. He loved those moments. 

“You don’t deserve a second of her attention.” Seungkwan continues, “Go back to your devious ways and party life. And leave her alone.”

He storms out of the apartment, leaving behind a seething Jeonghan. 

Fuck rules. 

—

You rustle under your blanket, the faint knock on your door stirring you out of your slumber. The night is up outside your window, the cool spring air blowing in, curtains flying in tune with it. Another knock. No one visits you at ten in the night, peeling off the thin blanket you step in the empty spots between trolleys and card boxes. Did Seungkwan need something from you? 

Your roommate winces at your sleepy state once you open the door. She looks over to her left scowling. “I tried.”

What? Your eyebrows pull in at the confusion, what’s going on? 

Jeonghan steps in, hovering over your roommate. The sleep goes away from your body, nervous system kicking in for the fight or flight response. What is he doing here? His blood red eyes doesn’t move away from you, drinking in your bed head, and the—shit, fuck, his hoodie. Your knuckles turn white from the deadly grip on the door handle, shut it. 

“Call me if you need me.” Your roommate steps away, giving space for him to come closer.

He crowds over you, his cozy scent mixed with cigarette smell messing with your senses. You push the door to a close on his face, his hand holds the door, his strength threatening over yours, he pushes it open with ease. If he was angry earlier, now he is pissed. His chest brushes your face, his hand coming over your shoulders, bringing you both inside your room, and shuts the door behind him, turning the lock in. 

“Why?” 

Desperateness clings to your voice. The grip on your shoulder causes you to jerk back, pushing his chest away from you. He backs away to the door, hands behind him. Your fingers hover over the light switch, wondering whether to turn it on or not. Seeing him might make it harder for you to handle all the emotions. The memories of him you have in this room, the ones that kept you going and also pulled you back, drove you crazy and now with him in the space won’t help you hold back anymore.  

The light stays off, the street light falling from your window is the only illumination outlining the shadow of him. You are standing next to the window a few feet away from him, your hands clasped behind your back. 

Jeonghan shuffles across the room, his hand tracing the edge of the table placed near the window, a few steps away from you but closer than before. He leans on the table with one hand, another stuffed in his jean pocket. A car headlights flashes across your room, he is wearing the blue t-shirt. He got his clothes back. 

“You aren’t picking my calls.” 

“Didn’t feel like it,” you answer after a beat.  

“You or Seungkwan?”

You snap your head from your fingers to him, “What?”

Another step forward. “You have so many protecting you,” he pauses, and adds with a slight shake in his voice, “from your villain.” He dips his head to the floor, his hair cascading his face. 

You prick on your fingers, locking them behind you. No, you can’t touch him. 

A chuckle escapes from him, he flips his head back, running his crooked fingers through the hair. “I earned the title.” He shrugs. “But,” he singled out his focus on you, “I would’ve stopped calling if,” another step, “you didn’t want me.” He tilts his head, the light from the window directly falling on him, his frown, “but for Seungkwan?”  

“I didn’t want to see you.” A half lie.  

His lip curls into a smirk, “you couldn’t lie then.” He nods to himself, “and you can’t lie now. So, don’t.” 

“Why are you here, Yoon Jeonghan?” 

He is toying with the bobble head on your desk. “Why do you think so?” 

The words rattles the last wall you are holding up. Tears prick your eyes, exhaustion creeps up your bones. “Stop,” your voice wavers, he looks up with confused eyes, “please.” 

The frown line between his eyes is prominent, he lets go of the bobble head and is standing next to you. His scent engulfs you, clouding all your thoughts. “Don’t cry,” his hand reaches for your cheek but stops, not touching. “Please.” The crack in his voice is too much. 

You step away from him, stumbling on the trolley. He stabilises you by your arm. You push away his grip, backing away to the bed. Pulling up the blanket you hide beneath it. A sob escaping. The bed dips, he holds your knee over the blanket. 

“Let me see you,” he pleads, “one last time, and I’ll leave. But don’t cry.” 

You shake your head. “You are the worst.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yo-you ca-can’t come-comeb-ack and.. and,” you hiccup, sobbing uncontrollably. “Ex-expect me-me to be ok.”

He pulls you into a hug, the blanket slips off your face. He pats your head, “please, don’t cry.” His cheek presses into yours, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I don’t want you to cry. If being with me makes you cry then,” he grips onto your shoulder, pressing himself tightly, “then I’ll leave.” 

“You always leave.” You free yourself from him. Breathing in and out to regulate yourself. “Always.”

Jeonghan holds you down, “if you want me to stay, I’ll stay.” He brushes the stray strands off your face, “but if I’m going to be the reason for you to cry then I won’t. I don’t want you to cry, not again.

“I realise my mistakes. I shouldn’t have been the asshole, and ran away from our problems that day. I’m sorry. Hate me, hit me and slap me all you want till your anger subsides. But don’t cry. You and I, we both want each other,” he holds the drawstrings of your hoodie, “we are for each other. I’ll wait till you can accept me.” 

“Lies.” You turn away from his pleading face. “I have seen you. And your fuck buddies.” 

Jeonghan groans, rubbing his face in frustration. “I didn’t sleep with anyone. There was no one after you.” He clings onto you, “I did go out but it never worked.” 

You scoff, not believing his words. The pictures looked pretty chummy for you to believe that nothing happened afterwards, especially knowing how handsy Jeonghan can be. 

“I can dial all my dates and let them speak to you,” he pulls out his phone, opening the messaging app and scrolling through dozens of unanswered chats. 

You hold his hand before he hits the dial button. “No need.” Like Jeonghan, you can tell when he is lying or not. “But you moved on pretty quickly.” 

“I had to.” He answers quickly, “or else I would have sorted you back. And it wouldn’t have been a good choice.” 

“Why?”

“You weren’t happy,” his voice drops, barely a whisper, “and I wasn’t too. And it really gutted me to see you cry,” he sounds distant, like lost in a memory, “I hate to see you cry, whether we were fighting or not. It didn’t matter that I was angry at you. And when it became clear that I was the reason for you crying every night, I couldn’t do it any longer.

“I wondered maybe if I stepped away from–” his voice breaks “–your life then you would finally be happy. You don’t know how much my chest hurt when you were crying outside my door. Baby,” the nickname slips his mouth before he can hold it back, “I really thought you would be happy, and if I had known,” he wipes your tears tenderly, “it would break you this bad, I would not have done it.” 

“It’s for good.” You say, “we needed space. I was too much, too greedy for you and your attention.” 

“No–” 

You cut him off, “let me talk. I realized how it tortured you, I occupied your entire life. I restrained you, what not. I did later on hear from your friends on how.. how you cancelled all your plans and didn’t meet them.” You chuckle, fumbling with your fingers, “and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I am sorry. Truly.”

“I don’t want–”

“And as much as we want to rework on our relationship,” you cut in again, “I don’t think it’ll work again. Not only because of our pre-existing issues, but there are few others.” 

He shifts uncomfortably, “like?”

“Like, I am moving away in a week.” You gesture around the trolleys and moving boxes. “I was that needy when you were next to me, imagine us doing long distance.” You chuckle imagining the disaster it will be, the tears shining on the edge of your eyes. “I might even kill you.”

“You are moving?” 

The smile vanishes noticing the hurt laced in his words. “Yeah. That should explain the mess in my room. You know how much–”

“You hate messy room. I know.” 

“Yeah..”

Silence cascades between you two. He is ruffling his hair, a tic whenever he is in distress. You pick on your finger not knowing what to say or how to.. end things again. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did the first time, right? Maybe this time you may walk out unharmed as long as you don’t remember that Jeonghan wants to try things again. If only it was as easy as telling yourself to just forget. 

Jeonghan wouldn’t move from Seoul or quit his job where he put in his blood, sweat and tears. The long nights and weekends he invested, the ranks he climbed are too dear to him to lose now. You aren’t that special anymore for him to resign and find you. Bidding your goodbyes now is the right thing to do. 

“I–”

“Where are you moving to?” He asks. “What about your job? The lease? Your parents?”

You hear the unasked question. What about me?

“I am being transferred to another branch. Seungkwan was supposed to go but his girlfriend–”

Jeonghan snorts. “Explains. You are lifting your entire life just for a friend?” 

“He is my brother.” You snap. “If not for my father he will be the one to walk me down the aisle. Don’t downplay our friendship.”

“How can I not? He is the reason you weren’t talking to me. Me! He is ruining whatever we are having or would have.”

“Because he saw me. He helped me put myself back when you were galavanting with your dates and what not!” 

“This is too much to do for someone else. It isn’t right. If he is chosen he has to go no matter what.” 

You stare at Jeonghan in the dark, “this is nothing compared for people we love. If you loved someone then you would have understood.” 

Nodding to yourself at his silence, you pull your hoodie sleeves over your fingers. “I am not going to tell you where I am moving to, Jeonghan. It wouldn’t help either of us. I would be too stuck up in hopes that you would come, and you wouldn’t even bother to..” you shake your head, “what’s the point. We are running in circles.

“We had a good five years, maybe four before it all went down. But it's something I cherish for the rest of my life.” You cup his cheek, “have a good life, Jeonghan. Don’t drink too much, or smoke. Clean up after yourself, and,” you feel wetness crawling on your hand, “and, you are a good person. If we had met in different timelines where you weren’t distant and I wasn’t desperate, we would have ended up in an ocean side house with a little family like you always wanted.”

He rests his head on your forehead, his tears falling on your cheeks. “Bye, Jeonghan.”

—

Yangsan is a breath of fresh air. It’s more of a town than a city, reminding you a little of your hometown. Neighbors were friendly helping you lug your furniture up the stairs to the first floor. Your ears strained from listening to them go off about the highlights this city has to offer. Sparkly, full of life. 

Their words blend with the sounds of the ocean. You saunter to the balcony attached to the living room, sliding the glass doors. Salty air hits you in the face, a little treat for your sweaty self. The summer sun sits in the middle of the sky, shining brighter than ever you have seen, blinding you for a few seconds. Adjusting to the light, the blueness of the ocean pulls you further. 

The sounds of the waves rattles the serene feeling, an overwhelming emotion consuming your entire being. You gamble with the risk of staying near to the ocean, the stench and cyclones, but if you are going to live here for a year you want it to be somewhere you love. 

You got a feeling— a hunch, that you are going to love Yangsan. It’s about time.

—

Work at the new branch turns out to be better than your previous office—minus not having Seungkwan. The new role is full of heavy responsibilities as you have to carry a team of six. Growing closer to them was a task, and it took you three months to reach this point. 

“Thank you for all your hard work.” You beam at your small team cooped up in the meeting room. Tired smiles thrown back at you. “Should we grab dinner and have some—”

The team is already up, closing their laptops and hurrying out of the meeting room. You have never seen an enthusiastic team for a team dinner. Seungkwan and you had to drag yourselves to the dreadful and boring dinner which was borderline a self-boasting manager session. 

Hansol, one of your juniors, is closing his notes and capping his pen. Neatly coiling his charger cable, he sets everything on top of his laptop. 

“Hansol,” you approach him slowly, like getting near to a stray kitten afraid you might make it run away, “are you coming for dinner?” 

He straightens, rubbing his neck. “Ah..”

“I mean no big deal but the team would be happy to have you with us. Afterall you were the key player to lock in the client. You need to celebrate.” You persuade, or more like try to. 

Hansol is known for skipping the team dinners, happy hours and laying low until it’s crucial work. One month into the office, you heard the rumours floating around, Hansol moved back from Seoul. His childhood sweetheart and love of his life cheated on him. It’s his third year in this branch, and he still eats alone most of the time. You didn’t dig deeper, if time comes then he will be ready to talk about it. 

You would be lying if you say you don’t have a soft spot for him. You saw a part of you in him, in his absent stares, hunched back, and disassociated nature. Coming out of love can be heart wrenching, imagining a betrayal from the most trusted person is just dying. The dark cloud is always over his head, a smile as rare as a comet. All you could do is hope that he will find his happiness again. 

He traces his finger along the coiled charger. “I mean it's fine if you don’t want to,” you jump in scared that you are acting as your previous manager. “But I really appreciate all your help.” You smile when he finally looks at you. “Keep up the good work! See you on Monday.” 

Sunhee, your other junior is standing by the door, her handbag on her arm. Anxious eyes on the man trailing behind you. Turning off the lights you cross check the meeting room before closing it. 

“Are you going to your cats again?” Sunhee asks Hansol. 

“Ah..” he rubs the back of his neck, looking at her for a second before staring at the floor. After a brief moment he adds, “nah, coming for dinner.”

The girl’s cheeks tint pink, jaw slack open. You shake your head, walking to your desk and packing away your day. 

— 

The dinner turns rowdier than you anticipated. One by one of your co-workers are being sent home, leaving you with slightly buzzed Sunhee, Hansol, and two more of your co-workers waiting on their ride home. 

“I’ll pour you a drink,” Sunhee grabs the soju bottle, giggling at the swirling liquid, “round, round,” she mimics the movement with her head, “ah, dizzy.”

You slap her hand away from the bottle, “no more drinks. You are going home next.” 

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat??!?!??” She cups her mouth, tears springing in her eyes. “You can’t do this to me!!” Coyly she flits her gaze to the man sitting across her, “Chwe Hansol!” 

The man, already tipsy with overly bobbing his head, said, “that’s me.” 

“Why??” She screeches, “for the love of the god—”

“Amen.” He bows. 

You throw your head back laughing at the ridiculous scene unfolding before you. 

Sunhee hits him with a crumpled up tissue. “CHWE HANSOL!” 

He straightens up, “yes, ma’am.”

“For the love of the god,” she repeats, he mutters another amen, “why? Why won’t you understand?” She continues over his giggles. 

His giggles die down. She slumps over the table, her long hair all over the place. You awkwardly look across the two, scratching your forehead wondering whether you should stay or give them the private space. 

The team has already gone home except for you three. Sending them home is also your responsibility as the sober one and as a senior. One look at the distressed girl next to you makes you slouch back giving them the time they needed. 

It’s no secret that Sunhee loves Hansol. From bringing in his favorite coffee to staying back overtime just so she could leave with him. Countless conversation starters only to end with a nod from him. 

“Look at me,” she pleads, “please look at me.” Her voice quivers, “I’m standing here waiting for you to look at me.” 

Hansol twirls the liquid in his glass, her words going over him. He doesn’t reply or even acknowledge her words, all her efforts and love are one-sided. 

You attempt to stand up and leave them to talk, maybe without you between them Hansol might talk. 

Sunhee grabs your hand, tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes, “if you leave he isn’t gonna stay. Please.” 

You concede, patting her back in quiet encouragement. 

“I answered you.” He replies after a prolonged silence. “It’s not gonna change.” 

Your heart breaks watching tears spill from Sunhee’s eyes onto her lap. Her attention is not wavering from the one boy who is actively avoiding her. You slip your hand into hers, pressing it in a reassuring way. 

She squeezes back, a wavering smile and she picks her bag. “See you on Monday, senior.” She salutes, laughing with tears. “Bye, Hansol.” 

“Can I drop you home?” You ask. 

“I sobered up. Thank you.” She walks out of the table, and her wobbly steps towards the exit. 

Hansol refills his empty glass, sipping on it in silence. You check for the notifications on your phone, another missed call from Seungkwan. You sigh, you have to answer him one day. 

“I’m a villain in your eyes right?” Hansol’s question cuts through the awkward silence. “A bastard who broke the sweetest girl on the earth.” 

You set your phone down, shaking your head vehemently. “No, Hansol.” 

He chuckles to himself, pouring another glass of drink. “The funny part is my sweetest girl on the earth broke me beyond repair.” He looks at you, but distant, lost in thought. “I feel something after so long,” his hand is over his heart. “I feel bad for breaking her. But she deserves more than what I could offer.” 

You frown. 

“It’s for her best.” 

His words trigger the angrier side of you. You shouldn’t mix your past with their future. Before you can restrain yourself a scoff slips past your lips. 

His eyes widen, “what?” 

“If you don’t have guts to change yourself, then don’t say stuff like ‘it’s for her’,” you say, “if you want her then pick your ass up and get your life together.” 

Hansol blinks. 

“I mean,” you run a hand through your hair, “thinking about it, if you are letting her go because she deserves more, then you should have at least a little bit of interest in her right?”

He doesn’t agree nor deny. 

“Do you doubt Sunhee’s capability of decision making?” 

“No.” His answer is quick. “Her decisions led us to achieve the highest returns.”

“See.” You refill his empty glass, “she knows you for years, she likes you, and she has an idea of what she will get out of this relationship. So don’t bullshit yourself saying she deserves more.” 

Hansol is lost in thought. His gaze on the exit where Sunhee disappeared. 

“She isn’t your ex. I can’t say she won’t break your heart,” your voice lowers, “you never know what life makes you do but you can’t deny something beautiful just so you are scared.

“And that’s where I’ll stop. I have already butt in where I shouldn’t have. Do you have a ride home?” 

Hansol checks his phone, “yeah. My neighbor is around and he said he’ll pick me up.” 

“That’s kind of him.” You comment. “People around here are more hospitable than the ones in Seoul.” 

“He is from Seoul.” Hansol clarifies, “he came here,” he ponders, “one or two months back? But he is always travelling back and forth.” 

“Ah. Seoul has good people too then.” 

“You are from Seoul.” He frowns, “you are a good person.” 

You turn pink from his compliment. “Th-thank you. I’ll be right back.” 

You take a much needed washroom break. The day has been tiring, and very long. Did you overstep in counselling Hansol? Who are you to lecture him on what he should or shouldn’t think? You couldn’t help yourself listening to him say the same words once you heard from your ex.

Washing your hands you wipe them off with a paper towel. Yoon Jeonghan. It's been six months since your last conversation with him. How is he doing? You are actively trying to not think about your life from Seoul, pushing everything away that reminded you of that time. Sadly, Seungkwan also falls into that category hence screening his calls too. 

Jeonghan must be living his dream. He isn’t the one to fall back in life. The grit and passion he has shown is enough testament. He must have moved on by now. Found a girl who is of his ideal type, not someone needy and clingy. 

You rush out of the washroom before you submerge yourself in self-pity. This is Yangsan. And this is new you. No more Yoon Jeonghan. No more… 

A man in a long black coat catches your attention for having a similar build as your ex lover. You search for his hair to make sure if he is your Jeonghan. Sadly he is wearing a cap. Your steps pick up its pace, following the stranger amidst the drunken men going towards washroom. 

The stranger whispers something to Hansol and exits. Hansol’s neighbour? 

“Senior!” Hansol waves to you, “caught you in the right moment. My ride's here, see you on Monday.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You crane your neck to get a sight of the stranger but he is already out of the restaurant. “Did your neighbour come?” 

He nods. “I have to go. I’m sorry. He’s a bit short tempered.” He winces. “But thank you for all your help. Thank you.” 

“No problem.” You pick your own bag ready to leave. “Have a great weekend, Hansol. Remember to get some sun.” 

He smiles before leaving. 

You pay the bill at the counter, berating yourself. What were you thinking? Yoon Jeonghan here? In a nameless city? He didn’t put his feet anywhere remotely as close to a town. Even your trips while dating were to some exotic places. 

Why are you following some stranger? Why are you still looking for him when you ended things with him? When will you learn? 

—

You are at a restaurant again. This time Hansol chooses a seat next to Sunhee. During the one month since the team dinner, there have been little changes in Hansol. He has been starting conversations—not every single time but once or twice in a couple of weeks. He tries to attend the happy hours every Thursday. 

Biggest change of all is he doesn’t shut down Sunhee completely. He sits in his chair when she comes around and doesn’t leave like previous times. Talks in sentences instead of one or two word answers. All in all you are proud to see the change. 

“You are drinking tonight?” Sunhee holds the soju bottle, suspicious of your sudden need for alcohol. “Are you really sure you can hold your liquor?” 

You roll your eyes, “I should be asking you that. Do you even remember what you do once you are drunk? Should I remind you of the countless times I have to drag your screaming ass?”

Hansol snickers. 

“You too. You were the worst. How can you sleep in the middle of the road?!” 

Hansol plucks the soju from Sunhee and pours you a drink. “Enjoy your night, senior.” 

He is shutting you up with alcohol but you don’t complain, drowning it in one gulp. Ah, the bitterness. You missed the feeling.

“Pour me one too.” Sunhee shoves her glass into his face. “Why are you hiding it? I need a drink too.” 

“Another!” You slam your empty glass on the table. 

Hansol fulfills your request. You drain down the contents. 

“Slow down.” Sunhee attempts to steal your glass. You slap her hand away. “What’s gotten into you today?” 

“The rain doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop soon.” Hansol sighs, “I can’t believe we are in October already.” 

Sunhee nods, momentarily forgetting about you stealing the bottle and pouring yourself another drink. “It’s getting chilly. I have to take out my scarves and cardigans.” 

“October,” you sigh, dragging all of your hair to one side, “I hate octobers.” 

“And that’s because?” 

“Just hate it.” You shake your head, pouting. The table starts to spin, “hate it hate it.” 

“She’s gone.” Hansol concludes. 

“Not even half a bottle? You are drunk only from four glasses?” Sunhee throws her arms in the air, “I can’t believe you.” 

You giggle into your palms. “Hehe.” 

Sunhee and Hansol sit in silence, dropping everything to watch you, the ever uptight senior, always in control of every moment, giggling to yourself. 

“Did you see what I saw?” Sunhee nudges Hansol’s ribs. 

He gives an affirmative nod. 

“What I’m saying is!!” You stand up holding the soju bottle as your mic, “hello! Everyone!” 

The elder men all hooted back. Sunhee grabs your arm from across the table, whisper-yelling you to sit down. 

The overhead lights are brighter than your future, blinding you for a second. “Hehe,” you snicker at the futile attempts of Sunhee to make you shut up, “I love youuuuu guysss.” 

“Love you back, princess.” One of the drinkers calls back. 

Few other voices overlap your muzzled brain can’t decipher. You turn to the audience, “what?” 

A hand clamps your mouth shut, another hand dragging you out of the restaurant. “Touch alcohol one more time and you’ll see my—”

You fumble over your heel at an unseen step, falling onto your knees and hands. You giggle remembering something similar happened to you. You sit down on the wet floor wondering when you fell on the floor. 

It was related to someone you love. “Loved.” You mutter to yourself, sadness washing all over you, “loved.” You toy with the sleeves of your shirt. “Is he celebrating now?” 

Sunhee picks you up by your shoulder, “I can’t with you and this city. I am fed up. Stand up please. I can’t carry you all on my own. Where the fuck is Hansol?” 

You lean on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her. “Why do you hate this city so much? I love it!” 

“Are you being serious now? What’s there to love about this city? No one loves this city except you.” 

“That’s not true.” You watch a car approaching you two. “Hannie will love it.” 

“Hannie?” She steals a glance at you. “Hansol? Since when did you two become nickname basis?”

Hansol gets down from the parked car, grabs you from Sunhee helping you into the car. He drops you on the seat, you plop down from the sudden release hitting the roof of the car. Your mind blanks out a second, pain vibrating throughout your skull. 

“Careful.” Sunhee chides from behind, helps you sit up in the seat before buckling you up. “Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital?” 

You smile, shaking your head. 

“Are you sure?” 

You nod. 

Hansol drives you home. The rain hits the window harshly, the water sliding down in a hurry. Your eyes droop, blinking slowly at the blurry window. It’s October 4th. The day you dread, his birthday. 

You honestly thought you were doing great. Going out, talking with new people, actively not pushing away people who show interest in you and even went on a date. It ended on a friendly note but the point is you moved on. 

Until a memory or a food or a tv show reminds you of him. In the middle of the day when you hear someone hum a song he used to sing, you have to spend thirty minutes in the restroom consoling yourself, or overwork yourself to death. 

Then you realised you can’t tear him away from your life. He is going to cross your mind, strangle your heart, and it will always leave a bitter taste of what could have been if you weren’t scared. If you were a little brave to accept him again, brave to loose Seungkwan over Jeonghan, and brave to face another heartbreak, you would have been celebrating his birthday. 

Sunhee tugs you to your flat, holding your arm and keeping you from rain. The umbrella pokes your shoulder now and then, you stretch your arm enjoying the rain drops on your hand. 

“Rain is pretty,” you mumble. A little sad that you are already under the roof. “Pretty, just like Hannie.”

“Hannie?” Hansol asks, confused. 

“Hannie, Hansol.” Sunhee doesn’t spare him a glance, helping you up the stairs. “I didn’t know you were close.” 

Hansol frowns, trying to squeeze between you two to face her. “I’m not close with her.”

“Keys?” She searches for the pocket you pointed in your bag. “Are you hungry? I can whip something up in a minute.”

You saunter into your home going straight to your bedroom. Opening your closet you grab the yellow pillow and fall on your comfortable bed. You nuzzle deeper into the pillow, mumbling his name. 

“I don’t think she is calling for me.” Hansol stands at the door watching you cry into the pillow. 

“Unrequited love?” 

“Or an ex.” 

—

The first time you have seen Jeonghan is at a party you weren’t invited to. The infamous yet rowdy party happening at one of the houses near your campus is always the talk of the town—a whisper shared between two, and then three. Next you were hoping you could at least get a glimpse of the dancing crowd and games. 

Seungkwan, your almost knight in shining armour, dragged you along with him in hopes of shaking off the semester end exams. You were going back home tomorrow for the winter break, and he is staying back to work to save money. 

Girls dressed in the shortest possible skirts, and moderately covering their assets you realized how outdated you are living. The long skirt you are donning is a hazard from the number of times you tripped, and almost dragged a stranger along with you to the floor if not for the wall. 

Meandering the long halls, and along the locked rooms, you rest against the railing of the veranda. In spite of the chaoticness there was no one accompanying you, Seungkwan took a detour when he saw his crush from the statistics class. The full moon is shining in the sky, shining tranquility upon the drunk hazed people, and from the clouds eclipsing the moon your gaze falls on him. 

He has neck length hair, mostly black, wavy at the ends. Bobbing his head to the chants from his group, “Yoon Jeonghan! Yoon Jeonghan!” He gestures his hand for them to chant louder, cupping his ear with a smirk. They comply, his name louder than the music blasting from a huge speaker. 

A beer bottle is passed to him. He chugs its contents in a single lift, his Adam's apple moving along with his each gulp. He throws the bottle to the side, brushing his wet lips with the back of his hand. People burst out in cheers. He ducks down his hair hiding his face, shaking his head once before he flips his head back, his hair forming a perfect arc. 

The clouds move away from the moon. His eyes fall on you. 

—

Yoon Jeonghan is a final year student you got to know at the beginning of the spring season. Another hushed whisper among your classmates about his scandalizing break up happened at the cafeteria. 

“He was drenched!” the girl beside you shrieks as slowly as she can without garnering attention from the professor but loud enough for you to hear. 

“I wouldn’t have done that.” her friend chimes in. “not gonna lie he looked hot.”

“And embarrassing! Who gets dumped near a trash can with chocolate milk dripping down their face.” 

“Yoon Jeonghan.”

—

Next time you hear about Yoon Jeonghan is from your best friend, Seungkwan. He is going off about his day, your daily ritual before sleep, when he comes to the part where his car has been crashed into (more like scratched but you weren’t going into details and spark another fire). 

“That bastard,” Seungkwan eyes flit to you, “pardon my words but that scumbag deserves it.” 

“Mmhmm.”

“He was so clearly in wrong, and he has fucking guts to say, ‘how much?’” Seungkwan’s face is as red as your pyjama pants. Should you be scared? “How much?! Where is the sorry and remorse? What happened to having decency?”

You nod. You swear you are trying your best to be empathetic to the victims of Yoon Jeonghan— the girl who got stood up in the rain, Seungkwan who got his car scratched, another girl who got dumped on the first date within ten minutes, another girl who you forgot about. 

“If you can’t drive then you should stay home tending your ego.” Seungkwan rants on. And you keep nodding. 

He is a menace. You know this, if you didn’t then you would be the dumbest person. But god isn’t he hot. That night still haunts your dreams, his eyes still on the back of your mind. 

You hear your name. “Are you listening?”

“Of course.” 

Would he kill you if you confess you are developing a crush on his enemy?

—

In a blink of an eye you were about to sit through your semester end exams. Library is bustling with drained and lifeless students, the smell of coffee lingers around you as you search for the row containing the textbook you are looking for. 

“History… literature.. AH!” You step on something, losing your balance. You fall on your hands, minimising the fall trying not to scrape your knees. “Fuck.” 

A male howls in pain. 

“Shhh.” 

Several shhs hit your face. 

You sit on your bum, brushing off your scraped hands. A head peeks out of the rows of the bookshelves. His frowning eyes soften landing on you, revealing more of him. Yoon Jeonghan. 

You tripped over his fucking feet. 

“Who sleeps on the library floor?” You scoff, picking up your textbooks. 

“Me?” He scoffs back. He crawls out of his hiding space, sitting in front of you. “Don’t you know to keep your eyes on the road?” 

Now you understand why Seungkwan hates Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan’s lips curl into a smile, as he clutches his ankle, “I think I hurt my ankle. What if I can’t walk?” He gasps, holding his chest. 

You roll your eyes at his antics. Yet with little apprehension you near him, crawling to him, peering over his outstretched leg. You poke a finger at his ankle with a frown. 

“Does it hurt?” 

You look up at him meeting his silence, curling your hair behind your ear so you can see him clearly. His eyes follow your hand as you do it, lingering at the side of your face before snapping to your eyes. 

“Ah, ah, it hurts.” He grins cheekily when you pinch his leg. “What? It takes time for your body to send signals to your brain.”

“I can’t believe you.” You stand up, dusting your ass off. You walk away from him, your heart clogged in your throat.  

Fuck that was Yoon Jeonghan and you had a conversation with him. 

“Hey,” he calls you. You turn around, hair obscuring your vision before you tuck it back, his head tilted to the side, “did we meet before?” 

—

The semester came to an end. You heard about the biggest party of the year from your best friend as you are stuck at home. 

Grad party of the century, and you are depressed that you missed your last chance of seeing Yoon Jeonghan.

Life works that way. 

— 

You aren’t sure whether to be happy as you are past the tumultuous student life or sad that you have finally become an adult. 

Adulting came with responsibilities, body aches, and magic ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. Tiredness is your second nature at twenty two. 

“I could have been sleeping but no. You fucking have to attend this fucking ridiculous reunion.” You exasperatedly throw your hands in the air. 

Seungkwan feigns a hurt expression. “That hurts right here,” he pokes at his heart. “It’s been a year since we last met and here you are nagging.”

“Gah!” You march into the restaurant, throwing the door open, only on someone’s face. “Ah,” you cup your mouth with wide eyes. 

Seungkwan slips past you pretending to not know you while the man you just hit is bent in half groaning in pain. 

“Is that blood!?!?” You gasp again. Seungkwan is now running to the others. He is so going to die tonight for leaving you at times of crisis. 

The man in the question stands up licking his thumb, “nah, that’s ketchup.” 

“You!” You gasp yet again not believing your eyes. 

“Yeah, me.” Jeonghan sniffles, touching his nose tenderly. “Why do you always inflict pain on me whenever we meet?” 

“What pain?” You frown. 

“You forgot?” He holds his left leg, “I still limp from the pain. And you forgot.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “You wound me.” He later on adds touching his black nose, “literally.”  

You step away from the entrance to let the customers flow in and out. Jeonghan trails behind you, limping when you look over your shoulder and walking perfectly fine when you look at him in the glass reflection ahead of you. This man—

“But from what I remember I think I stepped on your,” you flit your eyes down his pants, “didn’t I?” You lie. 

His tongue pokes his cheek, interest blooming in his eyes as he watches you. “Well played.” He leads you to the boisterous table out of all, “remembering properly, didn’t you palm my—”

You hit his back with your wallet. “Fine! You win.” 

He throws you a boyish grin over his shoulder, snagging two empty seats and patting one to you. You comply, accepting it and settling yourself for the long night. The fatigue from work disappears at the sight of Jeonghan’s teasing smiles and intrusive questions. 

“We live ten minutes away!” He beams at the google maps displaying the route between his and your apartments. “So when are you bringing me homemade lunch?” 

He props his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm watching you suffocate under his scrutiny. You nibble on the chicken leg, suddenly shy. 

“Why would I ever do that?” You throw him a heated look. 

He grins, finally having your attention on him. “Why not? Korea is known for its hospitality. Are you denying it by not bringing me food?” 

This man’s audacity. A flicker in your heart. You toy the chicken between your fingers hundreds of thoughts running at a million speed. Is he insinuating what your overworking brain is thinking? 

“Why don’t you bring me food? You can tend to me to,” you pick up the chicken again, taking a big bite. You are starving for fuck’s sake. 

“Is this your way of roping me into your service?” He grabs a tissue, wiping your mouth as you chew. “Not only looks like a baby but is a baby.” 

He flicks his eyes to yours, cunningness apparent in them. His face glows watching the pinkness spread across your cheeks. 

“Should have opened the door harder,” you grumble under your breath. 

Yoon Jeonghan throws his head back, laughing. And man doesn’t his laughter tickle your insides, ending with a smile on your lips too.

—

You aren’t sure how you ended up here. It’s been two months since the reunion dinner. Suddenly there are two adult sized kids bickering in the middle of your flat. 

“That’s a lame movie.” Seungkwan points the TV remote at the Godzilla paused in the middle of roaring. Not a pretty sight and you are hundred percent sure those canines are gonna chase you in the dreams tonight. 

Jeonghan dramatically clasps his chest, bunching his eyebrows together. “You are saying that to an animal?” He searches for his phone, “should report you to animal protection authorities. Cruel cruel human.” 

Seungkwan grabs Jeonghan by the collar who just raises his eyebrow. “What are you saying?” 

And cue. Another WWE fight breaks out in your home. You pick up your delicate vase and move your coffee table away from them. Picking up the discarded remote from the floor, you plop on the couch exiting the movie and playing a recently released rom-com. 

Twenty minutes into the movie with you actively trying to catch the dialogues over two grown ups bickering, suddenly silence fills in. Did they finally kill each other? 

Two men loom over you. You gulp, setting your feet down ready to run. Seungkwan makes a grabby hand for the remote only to be blocked by Jeonghan’s body. He rests his knee on the couch next to you, the other leg between your feet, trapping you. 

You hide the remote behind you, not letting go of the chance to watch your most anticipated film. It’s Friday night, it's supposed to be your unwinding time from the week’s stress. And you haven’t tasted peace since Jeonghan started crashing in your spare bedroom regularly—despite having his own huge flat all to himself. 

He is a wall taking in Seungkwan’s hits. His fingers trail down your arm with a tickling touch. His fingers grazing your waist before slipping his hand between you and the couch. Seungkwan pushes him and Jeonghan crashes into you. His chest landing on your face. Your grip loosens on the remote momentarily as you try to push him off of you. 

He steals the remote from you, walking away in a second. Seungkwan berates you while you catch your breath, still feeling the softness of his shirt. 

Jeonghan resumes Godzilla sitting in the middle of the couch. The smirk never leaves his lips. 

—

Jeonghan is your unofficial roommate at this point. He is on your mind while grocery shopping and planning the dinners for the coming weeks. He hates greens and you can’t sit through another lecture on how we are stealing animals’ food. Ridiculous, yet you couldn’t help but nod along with his points. 

After getting used to his antics’ and finding him sprawled on your couch by the time you are home from the office, it is odd to not see him some days. 

You will find yourself sitting on the couch where he should have been and lay there for a few minutes wondering. Asking him will make it easier and can put your overthinking brain to rest. But there’s this meaningless fear of him finding out your crush. 

He is not home today, and the TV isn’t playing in the background. It is friday and usually he is at home, waiting for you. A sigh escapes your lips as you drop the keys in the bowl and neatly line up your shoes. You pause by the couch staring at the empty couch, what is he up to? 

Your shoulders snag realizing there is no movie night today. You can’t slowly find yourself resting against him, some days on his lap falling asleep as he runs his fingers across your hair. Is he on a date? Did he find someone? Is that why he is not with you now? 

Sadness engulfs you, the thought alone rattling your peace. What will you do if you see him with someone else? This whatever that is between you two is doomed to begin with. Seungkwan has been relentless about his hatred for your crush, throwing warnings everytime possible. 

“He is not right for you. I never saw him with the same girl.” Seungkwan’s words are an echo in your mind. “You deserve more than him.”

But you want Yoon Jeonghan. Whatever or however he is. You like him as he is. 

He doesn't reciprocate the same, apparently. You never find him looking at you twice or bringing up dating or anything he usually does. You heard stories of him but not one of them playing out in reality. Does he not see you as a girl? Are you his bro?

Before you can spiral into your downfall you rush into the shower to clean yourself of the miseries. 

—

One hour into a refreshing bath and re-energized version of you, you step out of the shower only to find you forgot to bring in change of clothes. Wrapping a towel around your wet body you open the bathroom door to rush into your bedroom. 

Watching over your steps trying not to slip and meet the floor, your eyes are rooted on the floor. A rustle of a bag of chips falling on the ground startles you. 

Yoon Jeonghan is standing across the hallway still clad in his work suit, his lips parted and gaze scanning over you slowly, lingering. You grab onto the knot holding your towel tightly, the sound of your heart too loud even to your ears. With a shriek you rush into your room slamming the door behind you. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You pull your hair in frustration. 

Did he see you? 

Of course he did. He couldn’t move his eyes off of you. 

“Ugh.” You groan into void. How to face him again? 

You are prancing around your room—clothed, you learnt your lesson now. Wasting time inside so that magically the night will deepen and he falls asleep. You will go out once everything is clear to grab some food. Your stomach growls, not agreeing to the timeline. 

Jeonghan knocks on your door, “come out.” 

“No.” The answer is swift, surprising yourself. 

“I ordered chicken and beer.” 

He can’t know the cheat code to your weakness. How does he know it’s your favorite? You didn’t mention it to him. Did you?

He raps his knuckles again on the door. “Come on.” 

You trace the doorknob pondering. Your stomach growls yet again. You turn the knob opening the door, Jeonghan is leaning against the door frame, his suit jacket missing and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone. 

You avoid his eyes, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. He inches towards you, lingering for a second before walking back into the living room. 

The dinner passes in silence, the usual chatterbox Jeonghan is concentrating more on his chicken. You frown when he lets you pick the movie without a fight or random game. Not wanting to let go of the golden chance you choose the cheesiest chick flick to rile him up. Only for him to watch it without a comment. 

In the middle of the movie, amidst the hero and heroine yelling their love for each other, Jeonghan’s hands rest over yours. When the couple on screen is kissing, he interlocks his fingers with yours. 

—

“I can’t believe you!” Yoon Jeonghan is pacing around your living room. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?” 

“Why are you yelling?” You shout back and shrink back into the corner of the couch receiving a glare from him. 

“Why? Why?!” He marches towards you, gripping your cheeks. “You exactly know why. Don’t play dumb.”

A storm is brewing in his black eyes, but still pretty, and still lovely. This is the exact reason you did what you did. Went on a date arranged by Seungkwan. 

It was okay. Your date was plain, boring. Ending the date quickly, you came home only to find a fuming Jeonghan. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You push his chest, he doesn’t budge. “Let go, Jeonghan.” 

“She doesn’t know,” his voice is low, threatening. “Sneaking into my bed middle of night thinking I don’t know, and leaving before I wake up, what does that mean?” 

He curls the stray strand behind your ear, “stealing looks, clothes. What is my hoodie doing in your closet, baby?” 

“I’m not sure.” You fluster, gripping onto the couch, pushing yourself back into it as much as you can, away from him. 

“How was he?” He pushes your chin up, “look at me.” 

“Why do you care?” You snap. “You don’t even care. I am going crazy because you don’t even care—mmmph.”

He shuts you up, crashing his lips on yours. You imagined this moment countless nights, on your bed restless and desperate. He would do it slowly, sweetly just how he is with you. But you were wrong. His kisses are feral, biting and, and, so, so Jeonghan. 

He bites on your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. You gasp, your tongues clashing for dominance. Slowly you follow his dance, letting him lead. You are sprawled on the couch, Jeonghan hovering over you, his knee nuzzled just right between your legs. 

He breaks the kiss, a wet string of saliva trailing behind his lips. The storms in his black eyes shifted into starry eyes, ethereal, luring you right into him. 

“Pretty boy.” You cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, inhaling big gulps of air. “Mine.” 

His eyes snap open, a glimmer, possessiveness shining in them. He shifts, his knee pressing into your core. A moan spills from your lips before you can stop it, eyes fluttering shut from the bliss. He presses further extracting moan after moan. 

His name, a prayer, chanting the entire night as he makes sure you know just how much he cares. 

—

“Don’t panic,” Jeonghan chuckles at your panicky self, rummaging through the first aid kit. “It’s just blood.” 

You slam the cotton on the coffee table, glaring at him. The smile drops off his face seeing the unshed tears. A sour taste spreads across his mouth, he doesn’t like it. He hates seeing you cry, he realized. 

You weren’t a crybaby, even during the fights and silent treatment you didn’t cry. His heart softens, grasping the meaning, oh, you love him. If you asked Jeonghan later on which moment solidified his love for you, he would point out this exact moment. 

You tenderly tend his bruised hands and legs, wiping your eyes with your sleeves. Once neatly bandaged you put back everything in the kit not meeting his eyes. 

He calls your name. You shake your head. He sighs, pulling you onto his lap not heeding your warnings. He circles his arms around your waist, resting his face in your chest. 

“Home.”

—

You wake up with a jerk, heart beating against your chest like you were running a marathon. Squeezing yourself out of the tangled blanket, you wipe the wetness off your face, eyes. 

Jeonghan. You dreamt of him. It’s been so long since you have seen his smile, the dream Jeonghan was your Jeonghan, the one you fell in love with. 

It’s the day after his birthday, you want, need, to check who he celebrated it with. Who took your place in his life. You trudge to the living room searching for the phone, a dull pound in your temples slowing your body. Why did you have to drink? 

The phone is lying on the kitchen counter next to your bag, and you see notifications from Seungkwan. Twenty messages and three calls. You swipe off his ‘don’t do anything stupid’ messages and open your fake account. 

You sit on your knees, pushing your hair away from your eyes. It would be a lie to say you aren’t scared. If he has a girl again you don’t know how you would stomach it. Your thumb shivers before clicking on his profile. 

No update. No story. Or any post. You sit back on your butt staring at the dry profile. Did he finally choose to go private? Or did he figure out that bloom_234 is you? 

Or what if he didn’t have any girl last night. 

You click on his contact, still blocked. Should you unblock him? He doesn’t even know if you unblocked him, it’s been more than a half year. You unblock him before nerves get you. Or Seungkwan. 

—

“He is still sulking,” Seungkwan’s girlfriend rolls her eyes, “you know how he is.” She says with an exasperated sigh, summing up the childish acts of her boyfriend. 

It’s Sunday, and it’s been a week since you unblocked Jeonghan. He didn’t realise it just as you expected. You weren’t going to push it, or beg him this time. At least you leveled up one bit from being a pathetic loser to a loser. 

Call with Seungkwan has become inevitable as he threatened to revoke your right to be one of his groomsmen. He proposed to his long time girlfriend last weekend. 

“You would have known if you picked up my calls.” He berates when you pout about missing out on a precious moment. 

His girlfriend who was already brighter than the sun is shining like a thousand suns combined in her. The green feeling births inside your chest and you snuff it out before it can blazes over. 

“I’m so happy for you.” Your eyes prick from the overflowing emotions. “So so happy.” 

You really are. Seungkwan and you have been attached to each other since high school, seen every phase, every embarrassing moment and every key event of each other’s lives. And now marriage. 

They both smile endearingly at each other, Seungkwan kisses her ring clad finger before turning to you with a serious expression. Uh-oh.

“What were you doing all these months? Why are you avoiding me?” 

You flip the pancake, pressing on it with spatula. “I didn’t avoid you.” You hold the phone away from your face, “I was busy getting used to a new place and settling in. Mind you of the fact I have to set up everything on my own.”

Seungkwan barks into the phone, his voice loud to your quiet apartment. “You are avoiding me now. Show me your face.” 

You wince, setting the spatula down and picking up your phone. “Happy?” 

“This is exactly how a guilty person looks.” He sits up from the bed, rubbing his swollen face, “spill.”

“Spill what?” You sweat, despite the cold autumn breeze flowing in through your balcony. “Ah, there’s new love blooming in my office. Cute I have to say. Didn’t confess yet, but they are on their way.

“Can you believe Hansol also tried ‘Get Love Quick’ only to be paired with a man?” You continue not giving a second for Seungkwan to budge in. If he knows you have opened the gate to Jeonghan again, he will manifest himself next to you in mere seconds. “Well, that’s that. Anyway, Sunhee is excited that they are going out this friday. She said some place but I don’t remember where it is.”

Seungkwan calls your name in a warning. 

“What?” You whine, turning off the stove, leaning on the kitchen counter. “What else do you want me to do? I made new friends, I am not wallowing in self-pity, and I am not saying no to blind dates. What else do you want Boo Seungkwan? Should I write off my life now?”

“Did you talk with Yoon Jeonghan? Again?” Seungkwan discards your rant like removing a cherry from a cake. 

“I didn’t!” 

“Guys. Guys.” Seungkwan’s girlfriend snatches the phone from him. “You have to chill,” she chides her boyfriend. “And you,” she gets down the bed and walks out of the room, away from Seungkwan. “He is just worried about you. You literally ghosted us for months. You know how he gets.” 

You hold the bridge of your nose, letting out a long exhale. “Yeah, I am sorry.” You pick your breakfast to your couch. “It’s just.. Its too much. I mean I am human, what if I did text him,” you quickly add, noticing her alarmed expression, “I didn’t. Hypothetically, I am saying. He isn’t a bad person, you know.” 

“If he was so bad, why would I,” you trail off, not seeing the point in explaining yourself again and again to someone who just couldn’t get you. “Enough about me. How’s the celebrations going on? How did your family react to the engagement?”

She lets the topic change with a side glance. “They knew about it. He met my family and asked for their permission.” She huffs in disbelief, a smile on her face, “I can’t believe my family knows how to shut up. Usually, we kims are very bad at keeping secrets.”

“I had to prepone the date a week,” Seungkwan joins in, resting his chin on her shoulder, “her sister almost spilled the beans and I was pissing in pants the entire time. You had to be there to see it.” 

You chuckle, taking a bite of the pancake. “I missed it all, didn’t I? I am sorry, I wasn’t there to help you with your big moment.” 

“That’s okay,” Seungkwan brushes it off, his girl bobbing her head. “My big moment will be in six months, and I am gonna kill you if you miss it.” 

You screech, dropping your fork to the carpet. You promise him to be there with him for planning and executing everything, letting him verbally bind you to a contract having you to be a slave for him as long as he wants if you miss even a small event. 

You should’ve stopped yourself, should’ve seen the red light glaring but you concede away blind in happiness. 

—

Universe is plotting against you. The series of misfortunate events should speak for itself. It started with a client imposing an urgent task, throwing you off your work schedule. Your heater at home crashed forcing you to experience a free simulation of how raw chill autumn nights work. The repairman is out of town, ranaway to marry the love of his life. Administration is on look out for a replacement. And, you had to catch the new love birds making out at the staircase. 

Awkward is just another word as you currently sit at your desk avoiding your juniors. You weren’t mad per say seeing them break rules it's more of a shock, like seeing your sister make out. Sunhee has grown close to you over the days, especially after the disastrous night of her taking care of you. 

“Come on,” she swivels her chair next to you, “till when are you going to run away. I am sorry!” 

“What? Who?” You blink at her feigning innocence after almost reaching for the bleach to clean your eyes. “Did something happen that I should know of?”

Hansol stretches his body, walking away from you guys with his hands in pockets and whistling his way out. Sunhee grumbles under her breath, “scaredy-cat.” She turns to you, eye-to-eye. You push your chair away from her slowly, scared for your life. “You are almost 30, and you act like you haven’t seen a kiss or kissed someone.” 

That hurts your pride. “What?!”

She has a teasing lilt, “but that couldn’t be true.” Her eyes shine, mimicking you, “‘Hannie, Hannie, my Hannie will like Yangsan’.”

You shove her face off of you. “Shut up. We are in the office. And I am your senior. I can easily report you—” 

“Who is he?”

“I have a deadline. And you have one too.” You roll her away to her desk. “If you could go back to working I’ll be happy that I won’t need to pull another all-nighter.” 

She is back at your side in a beat. “Who is he? Tell me. It’s only fair since you know all of my love story—”

“Only because you shove it in my face even when I don’t want to—”

“—I won’t stop pestering you until you go on a date.” 

“Don’t you have a boyfriend? I’m flattered that you find me attractive but I like men.” 

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” She folds her arms, “on a blind date. With a man. That’s the only requirement for you right?” 

“Excuse me!” You are offended yet again. “My bar isn’t as low as you think. I’m one sophisticated woman.” 

“This Sunday at 6. Be ready.” She rolls away humming a song. 

Did you just get blackmailed into a date? 

—

The restaurant is bustling. You check the message from Hansol again to confirm your date is at the expensive restaurant of Yangsan. Checking up on the details of the restaurant, you had to recheck the city and pin code to make sure it’s in the city.  

People in their fifties, pepper hair and classy suits, a woman on their arm, file in and out of the wooden doors. You press the black velvet dress, smoothing down your jitters. It’s been so long since you dined in a fine restaurant. Three years to be exact. 

How bad does your date want to impress you to choose this place? Can you back out now? Is it too late? 

He’s waiting. 

-Hansol

You groan reading the text. There’s no way out of it now. You put the phone back in your purse clicking it shut. Rounding your shoulders you get ready for the date, it’s going to be alright. You flick your hair back, pulling your dress a little higher and you climb the steps to the door. A sweet valet parker beats you in opening the door for you. Mumbling a thank you, you wait for the attendee to finish up talking with an elderly couple. 

“Welcome!” The lady dressed in a red jacket and red lipstick beams at you. 

With a small smile, you check the message from Hansol again. “Hey. My reservation is for table 17?” 

She checks her iPad scrolling through her list before leading you through the oak tables, servers tending to customers, different scents of food hitting your nostrils, awakening your dead hunger. All the anxiety numbed you from the usual munching of your snacks, and the dread of the date now settled in your stomach. You may throw up if food hits your stomach but you may faint if you don’t eat anything in the next hour. Workings of your body never leaves you amazed. 

“Here you are,” she points to the empty chair, her red lips still stretched wide in a smile. 

You look up from your phone reading the sender’s name. Seungkwan. “Thank you,” you bow to the lady. Your phone vibrates in your hand, your life tilted on the axis seeing the man sitting at your table, supposed to be your date. 

Yoon Jeonghan is occupying the other chair watching you with his hooded eyes, hard to read, hard to decipher his feelings. You hold the woman’s shoulder before she can leave you two. “Are you sure this is table 17?”

Her perfect grin slips, a frown dancing on her face, checking the iPad yet again. “I am sure. This is the table. Is there any problem?”

Jeonghan shifts in his chair uncomfortably. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes, the darkness in them pulled you in, his eyebrows pulled in, and a breath escaping his parted lips. You can't believe that you are again here, in the same situation as few months ago, set up with Jeonghan coincidentally. He anticipates your decision, not saying a word or asking you to join him. Should you go along with this dinner or take a turn and make a run?

his eyes scan the room in hopes to find a certain person. trying to look for someone you’ve never met before is more challenging than he thought it would be.

“i don’t think we’ve met.” he hears behind him, and he turns around, only to be met with one of the most beautiful smiles he’s ever seen.

joshua’s greeting is said near absentmindedly, as he’s clearly taking in the sight of you.

sure, he’s seen the pictures of you online after rigorously searching up everything he could find about you. he recognizes you easily, though he finds the pictures don’t do you justice.

you’re the daughter of a renowned, successful businessman, though from what he’s gathered, you’re also considerably more private than most people in your circle, so it was hard to find anything about you other than basic things like your birthday and education.

but he can work with what he has.

“yeah, this isn't my usual scene."

“what brings you to the scene here, then?”

joshua’s eyes are sweet, completely hiding the self-serving revenge plan he’s actually here for. “i was invited by a business partner of mine.”

surprisingly enough, you don’t often meet handsome and intriguing strangers at events like these. but joshua here is a refreshing, new face in the midst of everyone you already know and always have to talk to.

“something tells me you don’t really enjoy being here.”

“am i that obvious?”

“a little.”

not really. you’ve just had your eyes on him since he walked in.

“can i say something brutally honest?” he asks, and when you nod, he slightly leans closer to your face, lowering his voice. “you don’t really seem to be enjoying yourself either.”

a scoff escapes your mouth while you still have a glass of champagne in hand. “what makes you think so?”

joshua shrugs casually. “gut feeling, i guess. but i’m right, aren’t i?”

when you don’t refute his words, the corner of his lips curls up for a split second, his cockiness briefly slipping underneath his facade. yeah, he thinks to himself, i know you’re unhappy with that shitty husband of yours. it’s been in the gossip magazines several times at this point.

there’s something captivating about him. clothed in a clearly expensive two-piece suit, jet-black hair framing his soft features. he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and you catch the piercings in his ear — it leaves you wondering who the hell this is.

“normally, this is my crowd, but unfortunately there’s not much place for honesty here. so when i’m having a shit day, i still have to put up a smile and act like i’m so interested in whatever business everyone’s doing these days.”

“well, if you need to pour your heart out to a stranger, go on ahead. i won’t judge, promise.”

his smile is infectious. you hope the heat isn’t visible on your cheeks. after hesitating for a moment, you open your mouth, about to tell him why your week has been so utterly bad when you feel a presence behind you, the familiar hand sliding around your waist.

“joshuji — it’s been a while.”

that fucking nickname. it used to warm his chest, now it just fills it with a sharp pain.

joshua’s mood instantly sours, and he has to force himself to hide the disdain on his face.

his heart sinks familiarly at the sight of him. the memories with him flash through his mind — the complicated history that had them go from best friends to strangers.

“jeonghan,” he returns the greeting rather stand-offish, “it sure has.”

“i see you’ve met my wife.” jeonghan’s smile turns into something more genuine once it’s directed at you.

“you two have history?” you ask, feeling a bit left out now that you’ve discovered the two of them know eachother.

before joshua can answer, jeonghan does so for him. “from high school, yeah. we were classmates.”

classmates. that’s a hell of a way to put it.

jeonghan catches the dark glare joshua sends his way, but ignores it entirely. your husband squeezes your waist tighter than usual, more possessively — it sparks curiosity in you.

after exchanging some tense lines of small talk, jeonghan gives some bullshit excuse to get you to go home with him, and you agree, though not without subtly giving joshua your card; with your number on it.

he triumphantly grins to himself when watching the two of you leave.

as much as jeonghan might want to keep you away from him, you certainly don’t have the same plan — just as he’d hoped.

when joshua makes the bold move of inviting you out for drinks a few days later, you shamelessly agree to it. of course there’s nothing wrong with getting to know someone in a friendly manner, but you’re not quite sure if it’s friendship that you want from him.

just as the first time you met, he’s charming. he easily makes conversation, and you enjoy his company just as much as the glass of red wine sitting on the table before you. you drink, talk and laugh together, and the hours pass by faster than they should.

“is there no girl waiting for you at your house at this hour?”

with a glass in hand, he shakes his head. "no, there’s not. i’ve been single for a while now. though you can’t say the same.”

the mention of your husband instantly affects your body language. “no, i cannot.”

“i don’t mean to pry, so if you don’t wanna talk about it, just say the word — but you seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind. which you didn’t get to tell me about last time.”

a huff escapes you. joshua is a welcome distraction, and for once in your life, you’re interested in someone else’s opinion on your personal life.

so you tap your nail against your thigh, admitting why your life has been feeling irritatingly hectic lately. “i keep finding these tabloids writing about me and jeonghan, our relationship and all — it annoys me. do you know how much work goes into suing those assholes?”

“not really, but i can imagine. what’re they saying about you?”

“that our marriage seems strained at certain moments, or that we’re never really seen together outside of events… the usual.”

“i’m glad to be out of that kind of spotlight.”

“yeah, well, i’m not just in it — i’m married to someone who’s also in it. god, if i could get a fucking break and be single again, i would.”

“so i take it the not-so-happy-marriage rumors they’re all writing about are true, then?”

“kind of. but it’s not what you think.”

“i’m all ears.”

“well, for starters, i’ve never been in love with him.”

“you’re—you’re not?”

“i’m not. at least i don’t think so. i’ve grown to love him, definitely, but… i just don’t know if i’m in love with him.”

“but why would you marry him, if you felt like that?”

“it was initially just a business thing, our parents pretty much paired us together. but he’s charming, intelligent, not bad on the eyes at all. even though he’s in love with me, he still holds me at a distance. i doubt i’ll be able to fall in love with him if he doesn’t let me in.”

joshua has to surpress a knowing grin. jeonghan’s always been like that, even with him — the type of guy you could pour your heart out to, never getting the same in return.

“and there’s no way to get out of it?”

“legally, i could get a lawyer and file for divorce, but it’s still a business deal at the end of the day. it’d do damage to all our reputations, which i don’t want to be the cause of, and despite everything, jeonghan still treats me well. i guess i should’ve known i would have to live this way when i agreed to sign the contract.”

jeonghan treats you well.

of course he does.

before orchestrating his plan, it was difficult to think of a way of hurting jeonghan deeply, the same way the latter did to him years ago. but joshua came across a video of you giving an interview to some reporters after a ceremony, and when he caught how jeonghan looked at you, he knew exactly what to do.

jeonghan is utterly and completely in love with you. it shows in every photo taken of you two together, even the articles in the papers where he talks about you. there’s no one he holds in higher esteem than his wife.

so joshua figured you had to become the key to his bitter, borderline childish plan of revenge.

now that you’re telling him you don’t even reciprocate your husband’s love, it might be a whole lot easier than expected to carry it out.

“so you just have to remain stuck in your marriage?”

“pretty much.”

he bites his lip, looking at you a certain way, and it makes you raise a brow at him.

“what is it?”

“no, i just thought of something, but i shouldn’t ask.”

“i’ll be the judge of that. c’mon, say it.”

joshua presses his lips together, and you don’t miss that glint in his eyes. with another sip of alcohol, he asks you what he’s genuinely curious of. “i just wondered if you two ever…”

“what?”

“… you know.”

“wow, you’re cheeky.”

“i’m just asking.”

“mhm.” you hum playfully, at which he chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “sometimes, we do.”

he’s thankful for the darkness of the restaurant and the table covering his crotch. the image of jeonghan and you in bed together, all naked and intertwined and warm, it gets a rise out of him. he subtly shifts in his seat.

“look, i’m not asking this because i have some ulterior motive or something, but...” a funny choice of words, “if it’s business, you’re free to see others, right?”

“we’ve never discussed it.”

“what would your gut tell you?”

“my gut is wondering why you care so much, joshua.”

“because—” he lets his teeth sink into his lower lip, “because if you are, i’d like to let you know i’m more than willing to… give you whatever you need.”

“and if i’m not free to see others?”

dangerous territory to be in, you both find.

his response comes out low and breathlessly. “then i’d still be here for you.”

you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek. in any real relationship, you’d never condone cheating. jeonghan is your husband in name only, and while you’ve both been loyal to each other so far, he’s getting more out of your marriage than you are.

and joshua, who simply waltzed into your life at the moment you needed it the most, is offering to give you something you’ve been craving.

agreeing to this dimly lit cocktail date with a man who gazes at you like that — you should’ve known it meant drafting up a sin that’s been lurking underneath the surface.

it takes exactly fifteen minutes for you to be pushed into the dark alleyway between the restaurant and the five-star hotel next to it. his hands are bigger than jeonghan’s, something you already concluded when he put his hand on your lower back while walking out of the entrance.

his lips are on your jaw, trailing down your neck, his hands hungrily grabbing onto your thighs.

he’s itching for some kind of relief, pupils dilated from lust, your lipstick smeared around his mouth. “let me touch you.”

you nod, breathing into his mouth, and he reaches down, easily pushing your panties to the side with that skirt you’ve got on. hot arousal sits between your legs, and when he feels it, he’s close to crying out from how wet you are.

his lengthy fingers make their way inside you easily, your reaction to the intrusion making him smirk.

“next time your husband does this,” he groans at the feeling of his fingers getting coated in your wetness, “i want you to think of me. of this.”

even through your lustful haze, you pick up on the snide undertone of his comment, and it only makes you chuckle. “that depends.”

“on what?”

“on how hard you make me come.”

now it’s his turn to laugh. oh, he’ll give it to you, all right. so much for holding back because you’re in public.

joshua proves himself more than worthy when he has you seeing stars not much later, your knees almost giving out on you. he keeps you standing upright, and once you’ve regained a clear sight, you find him licking his fingers, his body still pressed up against yours.

“if you want me to fuck you here, say the word and i will. though it might be smarter to go back to my apartment.” he whispers, simultaneously pushing his front against you. he’s rock-hard, aching to be inside you, willing to give you whatever you ask of him.

a flash of guilt spreads through you when you realize you could still call it a night and go home. you’ll tell jeonghan that you let his former classmate finger-fuck you in a dark alley and he’d probably let it be, too — but you’re greedy.

and you let it consume you.

his apartment is down the street. you let him fuck you with long and deep strokes, and it has your eyes rolling back, only moans, whimpers and his name tumbling from your lips.

his muscles are stronger, more visible than jeonghan’s. you see them in every thrust of his hips, every grab at your breasts, every move he makes. his big eyes are hypnotizing.

so hypnotizing that you don’t know he’s recording all of this.

only audio — it’ll be more than enough to prove to jeonghan that you’ve been in his bed, if necessary.

once you’ve had eachother for several rounds, you slip into a different conversation. your hopes and dreams in life, how you feel you’re not living the life you want, and all the struggles that come with it.

you talk about music, what kind of home you grew up in, and all kinds of experiences that make you both laugh. you enjoy his company, and he enjoys yours.

it’s his turn to feel guilty now. this sweet girl, who he happens to be wildly attracted to, is so lovely — he doesn’t want this to be the last time he talks to you.

so, going against his own plan, he meets you again, a few days later. and it happens again, and again, and again; he has to face the truth.

he’s falling for you.

his heart skips a beat when he sees you, gazes at you. how your hair gleams when the sun shines on it, the sound of your laughter, those sarcastic comments that make him crack up every time.

he doesn’t want to lose you. he’s aware that you’re falling in love with him too, and he genuinely wants to be with you, to have you be his completely.

but at the same time, he cannot let go of the past. he can’t not see his revenge through.

joshua faces a choice he never thought he’d have to make — you, or jeonghan.

two months later, when you get home late again, your husband finally speaks his mind. he does his best to sound somewhat casual, but fails.

“you’ve been awfully late these past weeks. hard time at work?”

in the living room, you press your nails against the inside of your palm. truthfully, you’d planned to tell him of your affair when you got home that night. rip the band-aid off while the wound is still fresh.

but he was in a good mood, and all you could think about was how much he cares about you. how much he loves you.

because for whatever reason, he does.

so you chose to keep quiet, vowing to tell him the next day. but when you woke up beside him in your shared bed, while he was sleeping soundly, you looked at his face and felt so terrible that you just couldn’t do it.

you planned to go to joshua’s and tell him you couldn’t do anything together until you’d told jeonghan.

yet you somehow landed on top of him in the span of minutes.

about a week later, you wanted to test out the waters. see if jeonghan would be open to you going out with others.

but the moment you asked, it’s like you could see his heart breaking. perhaps you didn’t quite grasp how much he was in love with you until that moment, and when he said he’d promise to try and be more open with you, to give you an opportunity to understand him better, you couldn’t bear the idea of hurting him even more.

the two contradicting voices in your head keep justifying both sides of your situation, of having something with both of the men currently in your life.

now, it seems, you’ve finally mustered up enough courage to be honest with him.

“no. it’s not work.” you admit, nearly hurting your jaw from how much you’re clenching your teeth. your heart pounds in your throat. “i haven’t been honest with you about what i’ve been doing—”

“you’re seeing someone.” he interrupts, his hands folded together when he sits with his legs spread apart in the chair. “i figured already.”

you wait a moment before responding, giving an honest apology without excusing your behavior. “yeah, i am. and i’m sorry for not telling you.”

jeonghan nods, and he’s surprisingly calm, more sadness than anger to be found in his body language, as if he’s miserable only about the fact that he didn’t get you to fall for him before some other guy came along.

“just tell me one thing,” he says sternly, managing to come across as gentle at the same time, “are you fucking him?”

with a quiet nod, you lower your head.

he moves on to the question that might be the most heartbreaking to him. “who is it?”

the look in his eyes is so utterly depressing. he wants—no, needs to know who it is that captured your heart, solely so he can compare himself to him. surely this other man must have something he doesn’t.

“joshua hong.”

it’s so silent after you say his name that you could hear a pin drop. with his head lowered, you think he might be crying, but then he turns to lock eyes with you, and there’s a mean, knowing smirk on his face.

“let me guess. after you met, he reached out to you?”

“is that so strange?”

“it’s not. but i don’t think your loverboy’s been completely honest with you.”

he stands up, his glossy eyes set dark and harsh, at which you frown, not having a clue what he’s trying to say here. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“look, i know that you’re not in love with me. but you shouldn’t think he’s in love with you."

tilting your head, your face falls, expression fading from pity into hurt. “is this the length you’re willing to go to get me away from another man?”

“no, you don’t get it. joshua and i have history. we didn’t leave things on good terms. now all of a sudden he’s back in my life, flaunting the fact that he’s got you right where he wants—”

“what the fuck are you even talking about? what happened between you?”

“it doesn’t—it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you need to understand he’s using you to get to me.”

“that’s bullshit.”

“go on and ask him about it. see what he says.”

“you’re an ass, jeonghan.”

“he’s the one playing you, not me.” he shrugs, going upstairs for some solitude. you remain frozen in your spot for a bit, thinking about what he’s just told you, and you grab your phone from your backpocket, calling joshua to check if he’s still home.

when you confront him in his apartment, he’s clearly surprised that jeonghan told you about their history at all. the brief hesitance in his voice and the flickering of his eyes was enough to give away that at least some part of it had to be true.

so you told him to leave you alone for a while.

he was using you, and you walked into a trap without knowing it.

unfortunately, you did fall in love with joshua. and even you’ve felt that he harbors some feelings for you, too. but you don’t want to think about it.

you return home in the middle of the night. jeonghan is half-asleep on the couch, a lukewarm cup of coffee on the table in front of him. you feel terrible, not just for waking him, but for treating him the way you have.

“i guess you were right.” you manage to push out of the depths of your throat, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. “i’m sorry. for everything.”

even when you fight with him, there’s a comforting warmth to your home that you have yet to find anywhere else.

maybe it’s because he’s here.

now fully awake, he stands up from the couch, wrapping his arms around you, allowing you to sink into the heat his body.

“take whatever you need from me.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

there’s something sad about it — you’re upset about being used by joshua, and you seek comfort with jeonghan, who’s directly asking you to use him, because for now, it’s the only way he can have you.

and very selfishly, you do use him, all in an attempt to forget about joshua.

he’s swiftly got you splayed out on your dinner table, and the way he looks at you when you’re left in only your lingerie — that is what you crave right now. so much longing, desire. only jeonghan can look at you like that.

he pleasures you for what feels like hours. licking your pussy, sliding his fingers in and out, fucking you and rubbing your clit; he knows you like the back of his hand.

in a way, you do want him. and he feels it, too.

the fresh rift in your relationship with joshua drives you and your husband closer. you begin to appreciate him more, the sex feels more intimate, but that distance between you is still there, and he has yet to tell you what it is that drove him and his former classmate apart.

when joshua calls you, you ignore him. why should you give him your attention?

eventually, he chooses to go by your house with the hope of fixing things, assuming that jeonghan is away at work.

you haven’t shut the door in his face yet only to tell him off. “this whole thing is kind of a dealbreaker, don’t you think?”

“i’m sorry.”

“sorry’s not gonna cut it. why should i believe anything you say? for all i know, you’re still lying to me right now.”

“i’m an asshole, i know. i’m genuinely, really sorry and i know i fucked up. whatever you need me to do, i’ll do it. but please, just—just give me a chance to make it up to you.” he begs, stepping closer to you.

he doesn’t say it literally, but you can both fill in the blanks.

he misses you. and truth be told, you miss him too. as much as you love jeonghan, your dynamic with joshua is vastly different, and it’s something you need to have now that you’ve tasted it.

from his spot by the front door, he suddenly catches the sight of jeonghan in the kitchen, walking around with damp hair and a towel sitting around his hips, his chest completely bare.

it’s hard to take his eyes off him, and his pupils dilate the same way they always do when he looks at you.

“i’ll think about it. just—just go. i don’t want him to see you.” you tell him, missing the way he stared at your husband, pushing him away from your porch and shutting the door with a loud thud.

“who was that?” jeonghan asks, walking over to you with his bowl of breakfast in hand.

you shrug. “mailman. had the wrong address.”

he only hums in response, not letting you know he already recognized joshua when he looked outside the bedroom window after getting out of the shower.

and he decides to take matters into his own hands.

about a week and a half later, you and jeonghan find yourselves at a charity event hosted by an acquaintance, your outfits beautifully matching, which you receive many compliments for.

joshua, you later find, is also invited. when he eventually goes outside through the backdoor, hoping to get some fresh air despite the fact that it’s been raining for hours already, suddenly has jeonghan standing right in front of him.

“enjoying your night, joshuji?”

well, he was.

“i have nothing to say to you.”

“no, but you wanted to have something to say to me, didn’t you?” jeonghan asks rhetorically, his tone so deeply condescending that it makes his former best friend want to jump him.

“leave it to you to be a belittling prick to the guy who’s been having an affair with your wife.”

“all i wanted to say was that your little plan completely backfired. you having ulterior motives with her drove her right into my arms. our marriage has never been better.”

“and yet she’s still not satisfied.”

jeonghan chuckles out of amusement. “look at you. you’ve gotten more bite over the years. i knew you had it in you.”

joshua finds it in him to ask a genuine question. “after everything i just did, she just did — how can you still act like you came out on top?”

“because i know you better than you know yourself. have you never wondered, after all these years, why you’re still so bitter about it?”

he silently glances at him, puzzled.

“you’ve been fucking my wife for one single reason.” jeonghan continues, his voice lowering with each step he takes forward. “because she’s the closest you can get to having me.”

“oh, bullshit.”

“then tell me. why did you go after her in the first place?”

“because she was yours. the one person you love most. i didn’t expect to fall for her along the way.”

the words make jeonghan chuckle. it’s laced with arrogance. “you know, i vaguely remember you using those words, a while ago.”

there’s a dawning horror on joshua’s face when he realizes it — he did use those words years ago, when confessing his love to his best friend.

he tries to regain his composure, but jeonghan has already caught and read his expression. he knows him like the back of his hand, even to this day.

“i broke your heart. you wanted revenge, so you decided to go after my biggest weakness, and as always, you let your feelings get in the way.”

“don’t patronize me.”

“i’m not,” he shoots back immediately, “i’m just stating the truth.”

“whatever. i don’t owe you an explanation. it’s not my fault she fell in love with me instead of you.”

“you’re right, it’s not. but don’t you think she deserves to know that she’s not the only one you’re in love with?”

joshua freezes in his place. it takes him a moment before he can even get anything coherent out of his throat. “if you really think i’m still in love with you after everything that’s—”

“you are. admit it.”

“no.”

“right. i see the way you look at me, shua. how you can’t take your eyes off me when i’m around, or the way you stared at me when i came out of the shower. just own it. for once in your life.”

“what does it even matter? it wouldn’t change anything.”

“you know what i don’t get? why you’ve never asked me about my feelings.”

the words almost render him speechless. because as always, he annoyingly makes a point.

“i just assumed—”

“you just assumed that i didn’t like you back? wow, that’s solid.” taking a step closer, his voice becomes quieter, tauning. “go on. ask me.”

joshua looks up to find a pair of vulnerable, honest eyes staring back at him. it takes him a moment to muster the courage, but he does.

“did you ever have feelings for me?”

jeonghan bites his lip, meeting his eyes with that subtle, lazy smirk he always wears. “i wanted you long before you wanted me. it’s not my fault you didn’t see it.”

this — this is certainly new information. all those years joshua spent resenting him, entirely unaware of this information… he feels like an idiot.

it’s caught him so off guard that he doesn’t know what to say.

jeonghan doesn’t back away from him in the slightest, shrugging his shoulders. “you’ve grown out your hair, like i hoped you would. every time you sat next to me, i kept wondering if you ever noticed how my eyes always lingered on your hands. god, i was so obvious.”

“i never… i never saw.” joshua stutters out absentmindedly, unable to take his eyes off him.

as heavier rain begins to pour down from the sky, jeonghan finally manages to be completely open about his feelings. “but things have changed now. i’m the one who’s in trouble. because i’m in love with two people, neither of which want me back. and that leaves me completely alone.”

jesus christ.

jesus christ.

jeonghan isn’t just in love with you, his wife — he’s also in love with him, and he probably has been since day one, but he’s always kept it buried because he thought it wasn’t going to be reciprocated anyway. fuck, no wonder he was never open to you, either.

it really is insanity.

for years, joshua has imagined what revenge would taste like. so he pulls jeonghan in for a harsh kiss, cups his jaw and pulls on his jacket as if he were angry at him, all in the hope that it will give him the feeling he’d hoped for.

but jeonghan’s lips taste more like reconciliation, a taste he craves more of, and he finds himself giving into his greed.

perhaps revenge is overrated.

aaaand mc watches and cheers like zendaya at the end of challengers. the end :D

thank u for reading, let me know if u enjoyed it <3

The warehouse reeked of gasoline and sweat, the flickering overhead light casting eerie shadows across the concrete floor. A group of men stood around, some pacing, others leaning against crates, each one glancing nervously toward the chair in the center of the room.

Their hostage sat there, bound and blindfolded, head tilted slightly as if listening.

“You sure this was a good idea?” one of the men muttered.

“Boss said to grab her,” another replied, though his voice wavered. “Said it would bring Choi Seungcheol to his knees.”

At the mention of that name, the air seemed to grow heavier.

Everyone knew Seungcheol was terrifying. Everyone knew messing with him was a death sentence. But no one had ever dared to lay a hand on you.

Until now.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made them all tense.

And then—

A soft laugh.

Slow. Amused. Dangerous.

“Bring him to his knees?” your voice cut through the silence like a blade. “You really thought this was going to work?”

The blindfold slipped, revealing sharp, unreadable eyes. The ropes that had bound your wrists lay loose at your sides.

The realization hit them all at once.

You weren’t waiting to be saved.

You were playing with them.

Someone moved first—bad decision.

Before he could react, you grabbed the chair leg and swung it, knocking him to the ground. Chaos erupted. One reached for his gun—too slow. You ducked, sending an elbow into his ribs before grabbing his wrist and twisting, forcing him to drop the weapon.

Another lunged, but you sidestepped, using his momentum to slam him face-first into the crate behind you.

By the time the last man standing realized what was happening, you were already in front of him, pressing the stolen gun beneath his chin.

“Go ahead,” you murmured, tilting your head. “Make a move.”

He didn’t.

The only sound in the room was his shaky breathing—and the unmistakable click of a safety being turned off.

Then—

BOOM.

The warehouse door flew open with a resounding crash, the walls practically shaking from the force of it.

A storm in human form stood at the entrance.

Choi Seungcheol.

Gun in hand, eyes blazing, chest heaving as if he’d torn through hell itself to get here.

His men flooded in behind him, weapons drawn, ready for blood.

And then—he saw you.

Standing in the middle of a room filled with groaning, barely-conscious bodies, a gun still poised under one man’s chin.

His eyes flicked over the scene. The broken chair. The scattered weapons. The men who had dared to take you.

And then—back to you.

Untouched. Unbothered.

Unapologetic.

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping slightly, though the fury in his eyes remained. “Are you kidding me?”

You smiled. “Took you long enough.”

He dragged a hand down his face, stalking forward with slow, deliberate steps. The remaining conscious man whimpered as Seungcheol’s gaze landed on him.

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned in and whispered, “Run.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Seungcheol watched him go, then turned his full attention to you. “Are you hurt?”

“Do I look hurt?”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not an answer.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer until you were standing chest to chest. “I’m fine, Cheol. They were sloppy.”

Seungcheol inhaled deeply, forcing himself to breathe. To push past the primal urge to hunt down every last one of the bastards who had taken you.

Because you weren’t just fine. You were standing there, smirking at him, like this was all just a mild inconvenience.

And maybe that was the real reason he was losing his mind.

Because no one else could do this to him.

No one else could terrify him and make him fall harder in the same breath.

Finally, his hands found your face, tilting it up as his forehead pressed against yours. His touch was firm but careful—like he was grounding himself in the fact that you were really here.

“I swear to God,” he murmured, voice rough, “if anyone ever lays a hand on you again—”

“They won’t.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. You weren’t reassuring him. You weren’t telling him to let it go.

You were making a promise.

Something dark and possessive flickered in his gaze before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

You grinned. “That’s why you love me.”

His grip tightened slightly before he let out a quiet chuckle, lips curving upward. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Mingyu, who had been standing behind them, muttered, “I don’t know if I’m turned on or scared.”

Jeonghan sighed. “Both, probably.”

Joshua just shook his head. “They deserve each other.”

And Seungcheol?

He just kissed you—hard.

Because damn if they weren’t right.

Back at Seungcheol’s penthouse, you barely had time to take off your shoes before you found yourself tackled onto the couch.

“Cheol—”

“No,” he mumbled into your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket. “You almost got kidnapped today. I deserve this.”

You huffed out a laugh, trying (and failing) to push his massive frame off you. “I did get kidnapped.”

“And you saved yourself like a badass.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes with a devastatingly soft pout. “But what about me, baby? Do you know how scared I was? I almost set the entire city on fire.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He ignored that, nuzzling into your neck. “You can’t just be all fearless and independent. Let me save you at least once, damn it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart flipped at how ridiculously clingy he was being. “Cheol—”

He groaned dramatically, tightening his hold. “No. Don’t ‘Cheol’ me. I’m in distress. You’re my weakness. I need to recharge.”

“You’re being so dramatic.”

“I almost went feral for you. You can’t just walk away from that.”

You sighed, giving in and running your fingers through his hair. That earned you an immediate, satisfied hum as he melted into you completely.

From the hallway, Jeonghan leaned against the wall, sipping his drink. “Told you,” he muttered.

Joshua nodded beside him. “He’s done for.”

Minghao scoffed. “The scariest gang leader in the city… reduced to a lovesick puppy.”

Seungcheol, who had somehow maneuvered himself so his head was now in your lap, cracked open one eye. “Jealous?”

Jeonghan just smirked. “No. Just impressed.”

You chuckled, stroking his cheek. “Guess I do have too much power over you.”

note: hey so believe it or not I caught a fever. But before sleeping I watched this video and I guess it stuck with me bc I had a dream I met some kind of mushroom god and made me go psychedelic mode. This is very unrealistic considering where I live... Everything here will kill you for looking at it wrong and I think there are several cases of people dying from foraging mushrooms (gotta love satan's jungle gym). again, do not forage unless you're very sure of what you're doing I reccomend this Instagram page for um, knowledge about foraging I have been following them for a year or two... Always check with local laws about um...foraging? I guess? But best if you just ..don't. Or talk to a professional... I wrote this through a fever so if it looks shit my bad. I accidentally posted this TWICE if U saw it no U didn't I'll never get used to Tumblr posting system I'll shut up now happy reading folks

Apparently, getting dirty is part of your degree now. But really, there’s not much room to complain as foraging for mushrooms had become a part of your weekend activity.

Lucky for you, living in an apartment situated near the city and with a small patch of forest, with a river running through it is more than perfect to find samples. It’s more of a parkland, really. Blending seamlessly into a small forested area. The conditions for mushroom growth were more than ideal; further along the park where people tend to walk their dogs, is a small forested area that allows dappled sunlight to touch the forest floor. Gently kissing it and providing enough light yet still being humid enough for fungi to grow. The soil is rich and loamy as well, and decayed plant matter serves as nourishment for a variety of harmless mushroom species. This area is also highly maintained, ensuring that no reckless child would find a poisonous mushroom and gobble it up, causing problems for everyone around.

So why mushrooms?

Nature is complex, an interwoven system where one factor affects another. Even the smallest component could play a massive role in maintaining the stability of an ecosystem. You’ve heard all about it, media, interviews from ‘save the earth’ campaigns. There’s really not much need to elaborate on it. Mushrooms, however, are fascinating organisms. Their role in decomposition, their secondary metabolites, bioactive compounds.. mushrooms are basically a treasure packed in small and sometimes, pretty packaging.

You’ve spent many afternoons frolicking around the area, weaving through tall grasses and trodding along the dirt trail. Certain mushrooms tend to sprout more after the rainfall, and since the rather heavy rain a few days ago, you've been excited to see what types of mushroom would grow around the area. So far, you've collected a somewhat prideful collection of some wild golden chanterelles. The golden orange yellow clusters caught your attention easily with the way it popped around some mossy tree roots. Then you found some oyster mushrooms, hanging around in a rotting oak tree branch on the forest floor. Venturing more into the shaded areas, you uncovered some wood ear mushrooms. Though they’re not the prettiest, their rubbery texture is quite fascinating. You plucked some from a damp shady branch before scanning the area once more. You’re deep in concentration, rummaging through the damp underbrush while squinting at a fat puffball. You plucked it before standing back up and in the peripheral vision of your eyes, you spotted something white.

no fucking way

a lion's mane mushroom was lodged in a trunk of a rather large rotting branch, you always thought it would be impossible for them to grow in an urban forest, and yet here they are. They’re sprouting proudly from a rather high area, almost a small hill. You recall that you have never ventured that much into the area where the lion’s mane grew, opting to stay on land and not having to climb. But if there are more rare mushrooms, you’re more than happy to get your shoes a little bit dirty.

Scurrying over, you failed to notice just how soft the soil underneath your foot had gotten. It felt almost like a springy network of roots. But alas, your focus is on something else. as you documented your findings on the lion’s mane mushroom, taking pictures and scribbling away, you had failed to realise that you have accidentally stepped on a giant mycelium snooze button. Far below the surface, underneath the soft humid ground, lies a network of fungi, pulsing lightly. You had awakened a shroomy force, it stirred lightly, grumbling. The forest seemed to shift, the wind blew a little bit harder, and the leaves shook. A faint hum rose in the air as the force manifested it’s presence, soil parting to allow it to arise from the ground.

And yet, it was still too quiet for you to notice his presence. Too busy slicing a bit of the rare mushroom you found as a sample when out of nowhere, a voice broke, too friendly, to be honest.

”hello?”

It was too polite, soft, gentle. You froze in response, were you too lost in thought that you didn’t notice the stranger creeping behind you? Were you gonna die? Is this how people get kidnapped? You slowly turned around, still crouching as you took a good look at the owner of said honeyed voice.

“Um”, the voice said “are you okay?” standing in front of you, a few feet away, was uh.. uh… you’d describe him to be more of a fairy like creature, perhaps? He looked human, sure, but something about him felt inhumane. Yes he had soft, round features. Soft and kind doe-like eyes and upturned lips, a soft smile gracing them. Was he an elf? You noticed that the air hums around him like he’s some kind of godly creature, and he sports a whimsical yet regal outfit as well; he wears a light, flowing tunic in the shade of pale forest green, almost blending in with his surroundings, the sleeves are slightly puffed at the shoulders, tapering down to fitted cuffs trimmed with delicate little embroidery resembling the gills of a mushroom. The mystery man also wore loose pants in a rich earthy tone, and you noticed that he was barefoot. But what really captured your attention was his hat, was it a hat? It’s more of a cap actually. A soft, oversized mushroom cap in a deep red color with some patches of white. It sat atop his silver hair that looked suspiciously glossy for a mythical creature (if he isn’t some rando who just happens to love dressing up in earthy tones and came here to take pictures..). Oh no. Did you accidentally step into a mushroom ring and was about to be kidnapped by faes?

So, you did what any other logical person in your position would do an d slowly backed off. The confused mushroom capped man just pouted at you, his lips curving downwards. “Do not be afraid”, he says. Great. That’s also what those angels with a thousand eyes said as well, at least that’s what the internet told you. Point being, if someone tells you to not be afraid, you have every reason to be afraid.

”don’t be scared of me, I wont do anything” mushroom man giggles and you swear the forest swayed a little “Besides, you’re the one who woke me up!” He pouted almost in a cartoonish way and you looked at him as if he was insane.

“What? Wh- who? Why?” You clutched your basket tighter as if it was a weapon that could protect you (it was not a weapon). Mystery mushroom man just crossed his arms, puffy sleeves emphasising that his entire outfit made him look like something straight out of a fantasy RPG.

“You stepped on my mycelium network, it had been a while since anyone stepped on it. I was having a very nice nap, you know” he huffs and you looked at him as if he was insane, because he probably is. “So you’re saying you're some kind of mushroom god?” You scoff, still a bit fearful.

“Yes,” he replied with a smile, as if he just said something extremely normal. His grin is radiant and a bit unnerving, further confirms that he could be somewhat of a mythical creature. “But you can call me Joshua. Are those oyster mushrooms? They’re really good in soup.”

you gave him a nervous giggle— “haha.. uh… cool! Cool!” While slowly backing away before your flight or fight instincts kicked in, and right now, it was flight. So you bolted, turning right on your heel and sprinting like your life depended on it. Joshua had only blinked when you ran, your basket of carefully curated mushrooms abandoned on the forest floor.

You didn’t think, you bolted as fast as you could. Sneakers pounding on the grass, and then on the pavement as you ran down the path and into your apartment building, not even acknowledging the confused receptionist. You’re already frantically pressing the elevator button, as if it would save you from whatever the fuck kind of creature you accidentally summoned. As the elevator doors finally opened, you hurled yourself inside immediately. Repeatedly jamming the button for your floor, the door eventually slid shut and the calming and lively music was no match for the state your heart was in. As soon as the doors opened, you almost flew down the hall, unlocking your apartment door with the urgency of someone escaping a literal forest deity as you slammed the door behind you.

Leaning against the door, you panted slightly. Safe at last, your chest heaves as you tried to ensure whatever that was didn't just happen. You leaned against the door for a while as you caught your breath, your cheek against the cold wood as you sat limp on the marbled floor. But when you turned your head and looked up, there he was sitting on the couch. Arms crossed, wearing an impressive pout. “Why’d you run off like that? It was very rude. I was just trying to have a conversation!”

You screamed.

After the chase (which was useless by the way. said person you’re running away from is currently perched on your couch, looking around your apartment), you found yourself to be very stunned. Not only does your throat and mouth feel dry, but you feel lightheaded. It should have been a nightmare, a mirage even. Something you’d experience somewhere in a desert during dire lack of water but noooo he’s very much real. Propped up, one leg crossed over the other as he clasped his hands over this knee. Eventually, you decided to speak up.

“Wh— how did you even get into my apartment?” You stammered, still feeling like you might implode from the impromptu cardio session. God, you really need to hit the gym more. You scrambled over the kitchen to find something remotely weapon-like and settled for the first thing you could reach. A spatula from your drying rack.

Joshua quirked an eyebrow before pointing at the open balcony behind him. The breeze stirred the curtains slightly, giving everything a faintly ethereal feel. Sure, maybe you had forgotten to close the balcony door (but you're pretty sure you did close it?) but come on. You live on the fourteenth floor, he’s got to have the skills of spider man to be able to climb up that fast and not fall to his death. “You’re telling me that you” you stopped, then tried again “walked in from the balcony? Fourteen floors up? What, are you some kind of—“

“Spore,” he interrupted casually, as though it explained absolutely everything. He gave a small satisfied nod as if that one word had answered all questions. “I just sort of floated up here, you know, like a spore. The winds are in my favor today”

???

“Excuse me?” You stare at him, eyes narrowing. The spatula trembled in your hand, as your fight or flight instincts waged war once more in your head. “Spores don’t float through closed sliding glass doors, and they certainly don’t turn into smush mushroom men sitting on my couch!”. Joshua looked genuinely hurt at your statement and pouts, uncrossing his legs. “I do”, he responded, mushroom cap tilting slightly as he tilted his head upwards. “Not everything that I do has to make sense, doesn’t it? after all, I am a deity” he says smugly, it you're not impressed whatsoever by his commentary, and his smile falters.

“Shoo! Go back to the forest or— or wherever the hell mushroom deities hang out!” You his, jabbing the spatula in his direction like a knight wielding a legendary sword. Joshua, still seated, and someone who looks too comfortable after getting spatula-ed, just raised an eyebrow. “Shoo?” He asks, “yes, shoo!” You repeat, flailing the spatula more aggressively, “Out! Out! Use your spores or something. Float back down to your precious mycelium network” Joshua pouted, full on— the whole package. Quivering lips, puppy dog eyes, “But you woke me up. You’re the reason I’m here. Isn’t it only fair you let me sit down here for a while?”

“Fair?’’ You sputtered, voice raising an octave though you regret it a bit “Fair would’ve been you staying asleep in your underground mushroom kingdom and not following me home and popping into my life like some kind of— fungus genie!”. Joshua just stared at you and rolled his eyes playfully “I don't grant wishes,” he replied, looking rather offended at the idea “I’m more if an advisor. A mentor, if you will”

“Well, i don't need any fungal mentoring!” You snapped while still actively shooing him away “go and advise some other unsuspecting person who steps on your spores, dummy. I don't have time to deal with you!”. Joshua took a deep sigh before getting to his feet “Fine, fine, I’ll leave” he said, walking toward the balcony with an exaggerated slouch and the aura of someone who looked truly, deeply wronged. He glanced at you pitifully before heading out to the balcony, looking like an animated Disney character who was shunned to the rain. Just so you know”, he glanced over his shoulder, buying some time “you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone”

“OUT!”

With a resigned sigh, Joshua took one step towards the balcony, and you watched as he shut his eyes close, sunlight hitting his head as he dissolved into golden sparks and twirled in the air magically like flying pollen, before floating away. You blinked, momentarily stunned as you lowered your spatula as you watched the golden spores fly towards the forest. So he truly is a magical being, you've figured since he somehow managed to enter your apartment but seeing it with your own two eyes is just different. You gulp, knowing that you’ve been threatening and spatula-ed

After days of refusing to go anywhere near the forest, you eventually had no choice but to return. You had left your research notebook and samples in the forest, it contained all of your detailed notes and sketches. Your pride would have made you start a new one, but it had taken you so long to document your journey, and the rainy weather is giving you anxiety over what could have happened to your precious data. So against your better judgment, you begrudgingly made your way back into the forest. Spray bottle in hand, just in case a certain mushroom deity would like to try his luck today. Trudging down the familiar soil path, you walked slowly while contemplating life decisions.

You've since come to terms with the fact that yes, there's a fucking mushroom god out there and he's damn cute and annoying. Next thing you know there's a god for moss and even grass. Grumbling to yourself as you ducked through branches and stepped over bushes, the almighty basket was finally seen in the same place you had left it. Unharmed

Your basket was safe, your research, samples, everything. However, as you bent down to pick it up, you noticed someone clearing their throat from behind you. And dear lords your heart nearly did a somersault that would be worthy of a gold medal in the Olympics.

“You're back” Joshua quips, looking unimpressed. His arms crossed as he sat atop a log, it seemed like he'd been waiting for hours, days even. He radiated energy that spoke, ‘you left me all alone and now you have to pay the consequences’. You groaned as you looked at him, unhappy. “Why the hell are you still awake? Go back to sleep or …do mushroom stuff!”

Joshua just raised an eyebrow, looking rather pissed off now as he tilted his head, mushroom hat flopping as it followed his movement. What on earth is that thing made of anyway? “Have you ever been rudely woken up from such a good nap and just couldn't fall back to sleep? Yeah. That's what happened to me. You woke me up, and then you rudely told me to go away. Back in the days, being able to awaken a deity was considered a huge blessing by the way” he huffs and dramatically turns to face sideways, throwing a childish tantrum.

“Are you saying I gave you insomnia?” You blinked at him, “Well,’ he muttered “it sounds ridiculous if you put it that way but yes? Technically..?” His voice trails off at the last part but he quickly switched to a serious tone “it's been awful. So here I am”

“If that's the case then I have melatonin pills at home, want some? You can take the whole bottle. Just make sure to be knocked out for at least another hundred years, how bout that?” You stare at the huffy deity, if he wants to throw a tantrum, so can you. Two can play at that game. Joshua however looked very offended, but you cut him off before he could even speak. “I'm off, then. I have got what I came here for—” you tried shaking your basket but then—

A little mushroom on legs snatched it. It was almost comical, truly. The thing had two little black eyes, and what seemed like arms and legs. It made little “ububububub” noises as it trudged over, wobbling with every step as it headed to Joshua and handed him the basket, that damn deity had never looked so smug before and you considered turning him into stew.

“Right,” Joshua smirked, “god of mushrooms here.” He said proudly as he patted the mushroom, who looked so proud of itself before it went on its merry way to God knows where.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me” you stare at him, stunned “Give me my basket back, fungi boy”

Okay. Maybe. Just maybe. If a proclaimed deity has gotten hold of your stuff, then don't insult him? You don't know if he's going to take offense and y'know. Burn your research.

“You know, I could always make this easier for you” he smiled, toying with the material of the basket. The kind of smile that would let you know that he is the one who got the upper hand in this situation.

“Make what easier?” you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at the man in front of you. Joshua just smiled ever so sweetly in return as he placed your basked down on the forest floor “Your work. I know everything about mushrooms. I am mushrooms, I am the oldest mushroom connection in this area, in human form of course. I know this forest better than anyone, I can show you, heck, even grow the rarest mushrooms for you. The ones that only sprout under certain humidity or acidity of the soil, the ones that you certainly can't find on your own”

You bit your lower lip at his offer. Tempting, you really do need more mushrooms to research, and so far you have been with somewhat steady luck, but nothing out of the ordinary. If Joshua were to help, then it would make your research so much easier. You looked up at the smug deity, “what do you want in return, my soul?” Joshua just laughs at that. “No, actually. Nothing like that. I'm not that kind of deity. All I need— is your companion” he leaned forward, arms crossed as he locked eyes with you. “You were the one who woke me up after all. Stomped on my mycelium network, now I can't go back to sleep. I figured we might as well just be friends.”

“Friends” you repeated after him.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Friends. Companions. Coworkers in the noble art of mushroom foraging. You do your science-y stuff, I do my magical mushroom-y stuff, and we’ll both benefit.” You just stared at him. “You don’t actually mean that. You just want an excuse to hang around and be a pain in my—”

“Companionship,” Joshua interrupted smoothly. “Is that really so much to ask? Think of it as an exchange of skills.” Your mouth opened, then closed. Then it opened again. “No. Absolutely not. I work alone.”

Joshua’s smug grin only widened. “Are you sure? Because I could guide you to a certain grove where the golden amanitas grow…” hesitation took over—only for a fraction of a second—but Joshua caught it. His grin turned victorious.

“Bargaining™,” he said, his tone practically trademarked.

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms and shooting him a glare. “But I’m not calling you my ‘friend.’"

“Alright. Sounds good to me” Joshua rose to his feet and placed a hand out “do we have a deal?” You sigh, reaching out reluctantly. “Fine. Deal.”

Your hands met for a firm shake, but as soon as your hand met his surprisingly warm ones, the ground beneath gave a low, rumbling tremor. The trees around swayed slightly, and a gust of wind flew by, as if celebrating. Joshua grinned, looking perfectly at ease as the forest seemed to acknowledge your newfound partnership.

“Um,” you muttered, pulling your hand back quickly. “Was that supposed to happen?”. Joshua shrugged. “Just the network responding to our agreement."

“The network? Like the mycelium network?”

“Exactly. It’s kind of like how humans nod at each other when they meet. A little fungal ‘hello.’”

You squinted at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious. But before you could dig deeper, he adjusted his mushroom cap, probably out of place due to the wind. With a resigned groan, you started back toward the city. “Alright, fine. But you better not touch any of my stuff.”

Joshua followed along cheerfully, humming some catchy tunes as you strolled back through the park. By the time they reached your apartment building, you had already convinced yourself this was the worst decision you have made all year (lending your boombox to Soonyoung included, the damn boy drowned the thing in Vernon's pool party). As you pushed open the front door and stepped inside, you turned to give him one last warning.

“If you start sprouting mushrooms all over my couch, you’re out. Got it?”

Joshua tilted his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. “We’ll see.”

The moment Joshua stepped into your apartment, his eyes widened, and he immediately started wandering around, touching everything. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

You set your basket down and watched him warily. “It’s a TV. Y’know, for watching stuff.”

He turned back to you, completely serious. “When I was last awake, TVs were…well, they were basically just barrels. You’d look into them and see a blurry moving image that barely worked half the time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Barrels?”

“Barrels,” he repeated, nodding sagely. “Big wooden things. You had to crank them sometimes. The image was black and white and would only last about ten minutes before the whole thing overheated.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. “That sounds like a cartoon version of early technology.”

“Well,” he huffed, clearly annoyed that she wasn’t taking him seriously, “it’s not like I kept up with human progress while I was sleeping underground. I woke up and—bam—flat screens, colorful images, and this ‘Netflix’ thing you all keep talking about.”

Blinking at him, you raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond. “You know about Netflix?”

“I’ve absorbed some knowledge through the spores,” he said, as if that explained everything. “But seeing it up close? Amazing.” He stepped closer to the TV, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. “So, this can show moving pictures whenever you want? Like magic?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “It’s not magic. It’s just modern technology.”

Joshua turned to her, grinning. “I like modern technology. It’s so…shiny.”

After a few days of “negotiation” (or as you would describe it, a string of bad decisions), Joshua had firmly established himself as your new roommate. He claimed the smallest, darkest bedroom in your apartment—a storage space you never really used—and promptly declared it his “sanctuary.” (you had no idea why your parents purchased a two bedroom apartment, knowing that only you will be living here. But hey at least it's put to good use now). Within hours, he and his mushroom helpers transformed the gloomy room into something out of a whimsical fairy tale.

The walls were soon lined with tiny shelves, each one holding miniature mushrooms that glowed faintly in different colors. A couple of the bigger mushrooms had sprouted in the corners, giving the space a soft, earthy smell that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He even got the mushroom creatures—those adorable, wobbly things with their “ubububu” noises—to help tidy the apartment. They worked in small teams, dusting shelves, even folding your laundry (sort of), and occasionally dragging bits of clutter back to their master’s domain.

Joshua, meanwhile, had taken to yapping constantly about mushrooms. Morning, noon, and night, he’d sit at the kitchen table—where you tried to work—and ramble on about the incredible properties of fungi. “You know, there’s this one species that can digest plastic! Can you imagine the implications for your research?” he’d say, eyes bright. Or, “What about the medicinal properties of certain polypores? You could develop a whole new line of treatments!”

You would sigh, rub your temples, and mutter, “I study nature, not shroom magic.”

“Exactly!” he’d say, completely ignoring her frustration. “Which is why you need my expertise. Together, we can achieve greatness!”

Despite your protests, you found herself scribbling down a few of his suggestions here and there. And while you would never admit it, his little mushroom minions made the apartment suspiciously cleaner and more organized than it had ever been.

However, living with Joshua wasn't entirely easy. He's made it clear that he's a very lonely man in desperate need of attention and love. And when you needed to leave for university… he became somewhat of a military wife sending away her husband to war (school).

Every morning when you slipped on your school bag and prepared to head out the door, you would feel a pair of eyes boring into you. She didn’t even have to look. She just knew. Joshua would be there, standing in the doorway of his mushroom lair, giving you a look that could only be described as heartbreakingly tragic. His mushroom cap drooped slightly (was that even possible?), his arms crossed over his chest as if he were physically restraining himself from begging her not to go.

“You’re going again?” he’d say, voice trembling with over-the-top sorrow. “You just came back last night! Must you leave me so soon?”

You groaned, trying to ignore him as you zipped up your jacket. “I’m not abandoning you. I have classes, you know. Like, a normal student with a normal schedule.”

“But you’re gone all day,” he whined. “What am I supposed to do here without you? The little guys can only keep me company for so long.”

“Then…then watch TV or something,” you suggested, gesturing vaguely at the flat screen. “Catch up on all those shows you’re so curious about.”

“It’s not the same!” he huffed, his pout deepening. “Every time you leave, it’s like you’re marching off to war and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”

You turned to face him, clutching your books. “It’s university. Not a battlefield.”

He clasped his hands dramatically. “You say that now, but what if something terrible happens? What if you trip on the stairs? What if—what if someone challenges you to a duel over your research?”

“Why would that ever happen?”

“I don’t know! Humans are weird! All I’m saying is, I can’t promise I won’t sob quietly in the corner until you return.”

You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I’ll be back around six, okay? Six. That’s not even dinner time.”

Joshua sniffled. “Fine. I’ll be waiting. Like a loyal companion left behind…”

“Sure. A very clingy companion.” With that, you turned on your heel and headed out the door, ignoring the overly dramatic “farewell” he whispered behind you.

Living with a mushroom deity roommate is nice sometimes, his troops help you clean up and cook and he actually provides you useful information for your research. However, you're pretty sure normal roommates don't have this much tension.

Source? Trust me bro.

The tension had been building for weeks, so subtle at first that you had barely noticed it. Joshua’s presence was constant—hovering just close enough to feel, but never outright overbearing. He’d reach past you to grab a mug from the cabinet, and his fingers would brush yours as if by accident. He’d lean over your shoulder when you were reading, his soft, curious voice murmuring something about the text, and you would become acutely aware of how close he was, how his hair nearly grazed your cheek.

At first, you dismissed it as him being overly friendly, maybe a bit clingy. But the more it happened, the harder it was to ignore. His hand would linger on yours for a second longer than necessary when passing her something. He’d sit just a bit too close on the couch, the warmth of his body brushing against yours. Whenever you had to leave for university, he’d hover near the door, looking at her with those big, imploring eyes—eyes that felt like they were looking straight through all the walls you had carefully built around herself.

It didn’t help that Joshua seemed to have no concept of personal space. He’d waltz into the kitchen while you were cooking, resting a hand on the counter right next to yours, leaning close enough for you to catch the faint earthy scent of mushrooms and something sweeter, something entirely his. You would go stiff, your pulse quickening for reasons you couldn’t quite justify. And then he’d pull away, as if he hadn’t just turned your brain into a jumble of nerves.

You have tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. Telling yourself it was just him being a mushroom deity—he probably didn’t even realize how his actions came across. But then there were those fleeting moments when you thought you caught something in his expression, something softer and more intent. It was there in the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought she wasn’t looking, in the faint smile that curved his lips whenever you argued back at his playful remarks.

The touches, the lingering glances—it was all building toward something. And while you weren't very sure where this was headed, a part of you was starting to wonder if you ever wanted it to stop.

Yeah. Having a mushroom deity as your roommate is pretty weird. And guess what? According to Joshua a Moss and grass deity exists as well so that's very informative. But then, something happened that changed almost everything. You had been living with Joshua for nearly six months when it happened, instead of his usual green tunic, he'd ditch it for a more comfortable hoodie and sweats. He also abandoned his mushroom cap, saying that it was getting too annoying. At this point he just looks like a regular human rather than a powerful, ancient deity. However, at some point you noticed Joshua getting more distant, and you didn't pay much mind to it at first, but then it continued.

Over the next few days, you noticed that something seemed off with Joshua. He wasn’t his usual chipper, smug self. Instead of popping up unexpectedly in the kitchen to offer you another bizarrely flavored mushroom or complaining about you leaving for university, he seemed…distracted. He lingered in the darker corners of the apartment, his usual bubbly chatter replaced by long stretches of silence. Even the mushroom creatures were quieter, as if they sensed something was amiss.

You figured he was just moody—probably still annoyed you weren’t spending all your free time entertaining him. But as the days went on, it became clear there was more to it. His movements grew slower, more deliberate. When you caught him glancing your way, his gaze lingered just a bit too long, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something heavier. There was a tension to him that hadn’t been there before, like he was trying very hard to hold something back.

At first, you didn’t think much of it—after all, he was a literal mushroom deity. Who knew what kind of weird cycles or phases his kind went through? Maybe he was sprouting some kind of deity equivalent to mushrooms? But it wasn’t until one evening, when you accidentally brushed past him on your way to grab your notebook, that it really clicked. He flinched at the contact, his shoulders stiffening, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, almost like a fever. You turned to him, startled. “Are you okay? You’re burning up.”

Joshua shook his head quickly, taking a deliberate step back. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “Just—just don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “You’re acting all weird, you look like you’ve been running a marathon, and you’re telling me not to worry?”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it. His eyes flicked to yours for just a moment, and there was something in his expression—something raw and intense—that made you stop in your tracks.

“Joshua, seriously, what’s going on?” you pressed, lowering your voice.

He sighed, raking a hand through his silver hair. “It’s…complicated. I’ve just been asleep for a very, very long time. Longer than usual. And now…everything’s catching up to me all at once.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Catching up to you how?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked away, clearly reluctant to explain. Finally, he said quietly, “It’s just…a kind of heat. It happens every so often. Normally, it’s manageable. But I’ve been dormant for so long that—” He stopped, inhaling sharply. “It’s just a bit overwhelming.”

You stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. “So, what? It’s like some weird mushroom mating season or—”

“Don’t call it that!” Joshua cut you off, his cheeks flushing. “It’s just—look, it’ll pass. I just need time. That’s all.”

You frowned. “And you’re sure you don’t need help? I mean, you’re acting like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated, though his voice was softer now. “Just…give me some space, okay? It’ll be over soon.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. “Alright. But if you need something, you’d better speak up.” Joshua managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Joshua had been avoiding you for days, keeping to his dark little room and refusing to come out even when you tried coaxing him with food, questions, or outright knocking on his door. The little mushroom creatures, usually so busy with their cheerful “ubububu” cleaning noises, were barely around. The entire apartment felt strangely empty, even though he was still technically there. You knew something was wrong, but he just wouldn’t talk about it. Every time you tried, he would mumble an excuse through the door or give you a dismissive “I’m fine” before shutting down the conversation.

When you finally managed to catch him outside of his sanctuary, he looked worse for wear—eyes heavy, movements sluggish. Concerned, you reached out before you even realized what you were doing. Your fingers brushed his arm, and he froze, stiff as a board. His skin was unnaturally warm, as if he had a high fever, and the moment your hand made contact, he let out a soft, almost involuntary shudder.

And then… spores.

Golden spores burst into the air, swirling around the room like glitter caught in a breeze. Joshua immediately jumped back, his eyes wide and his expression panicked. “Don’t—don’t breathe them in!” he stammered, scrambling to wave the spores away from you. “Stay back! I’ll—I’ll clean it up!”

But it was too late. You coughed, waving a hand in front of your face. “What the hell? Joshua, what is this?”

His cheeks turned a deep, vivid pink, and he stumbled over his words. “It’s, uh, it’s—it’s nothing!” He tried to keep his distance, backing into the wall. “Just… just spores. Don’t worry about it!”

“Joshua,” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes. “What are these spores?”

He looked as though he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “They’re, uh… you know… uh… hormones.”

You blinked. “What.”

“My… hormones,” he repeated weakly, now staring at the ground like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “It’s… kind of a natural thing. But I—I usually have better control over it. I mean, it’s been a long time since—” He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You weren’t supposed to touch me, okay? I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

You could only stare at him, dumbfounded, while golden spores sparkled in the air between you. “I don’t… What do you mean by hormones?! Why are they floating in the air?!”

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed, looking even more mortified. “It’s a mushroom thing! Just—just don’t make it weird, okay? I’m already dying inside!”

“Joshua,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms, “it’s already weird.”

Joshua panics even further, swatting the air to get rid of the leftover spores “don't breathe them in!” He exclaims and fans them away using a nearby magazine that's sitting on top of the counter “just .. forget about them! Um… let's see .. how to undo… fuck, why can't I think of anything?!” He grips his hair and you feel bad at his distress. Joshua paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair as the golden spores slowly settled around the room. “Okay, okay, this is fine, this is totally fine—oh no, oh no, this is not fine! What if it does something weird to you? What if you start growing mushrooms out of your ears? Or—or worse—what if you turn into a mushroom entirely?!” He groaned, collapsing onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “I’m a terrible deity.”

You crouched down in front of him, reaching out to gently touch his knee. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m not dead, am I?”

“Not yet,” he mumbled, peeking out from behind his fingers.

“Exactly,” you said. “So whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. If I sprout mushroom ears, we’ll figure out a way to make them look cute. If I turn into a mushroom, we’ll…I don’t know, open a mushroom-themed bakery and turn it into a niche business. The point is, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through it together.”

Joshua lifted his head, his wide eyes searching yours. “You mean it?”

“Yeah,” you said with a small smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Okay… okay. Well, it takes about 30 minutes to, um, kick in. So…we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

You nodded and settled onto the floor beside him, both of you sitting in awkward silence as the minutes crawled by. Occasionally, you’d glance over and catch him glancing at you, but neither of you said much, just waiting…until, eventually, you felt the first faint tingles start to spread.

Joshua glanced at you nervously as you shifted slightly where you sat. The tingling was faint at first, like a subtle warmth running through your veins. But as the minutes ticked on, that warmth grew heavier, hotter, settling low in your stomach in a way that made your face flush. You cleared your throat, trying to focus on anything but the sudden, unexpected pulse of heat rolling through you.

“You feeling… okay?” Joshua asked, his voice thin and cautious.

You glanced at him and immediately regretted it. He looked just as flustered, his cheeks a deep red. “Um,” you managed, fidgeting with your hands. “I’m not—uh—it’s not bad. Not weird. Just…” You trailed off, realizing that whatever you said was going to sound entirely too awkward.

Joshua sat up a bit straighter, his fingers twisting nervously in his lap. “It’s, uh… it’s not supposed to be harmful,” he muttered. “It’s just—well, I mean—”

“Just what?” you asked, desperate for something to distract from the growing heat in the room.

He cleared his throat and stared at the wall. “It, uh…might make you feel…things.”

“Things?” you echoed.

He coughed, his voice barely a whisper now. “You know. Uh. Hormonal things.”

Oh. Oh no.

You quickly looked away, feeling the heat spread to your face, your neck, your chest. “So, you’re saying this is like…uh, like an aphrodisiac or something?”

“Not intentionally!” Joshua blurted out, his hands flying up defensively. “I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen! It’s just…my spores haven’t been released in a long time, and when you touched me, it…triggered something. I was trying to stop it, but then you inhaled it, and now—now—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut him off, holding up a hand to stop his panicked rambling. “I get it. It’s not your fault. It just…is what it is.”

You both sat there in increasingly awkward silence, the air growing thicker with every passing moment. The tingling had become more insistent, the heat making it hard to focus on anything but the odd, restless ache building inside you. And judging by Joshua’s squirming and flushed face, he wasn’t handling it any better.

“So,” you said after a long pause, your voice tight. “How much longer is this supposed to last?”

“Uh,” Joshua muttered, his eyes darting anywhere but at you. “A couple of hours, maybe?”

You groaned, sinking your head into your hands. “Great. Just great.”

Joshua fidgeted awkwardly beside you, his eyes darting between you and some indistinct spot on the floor. “Look,” he stammered, “it’s either this or… or you end up with mushrooms on your head. Or maybe mushroom ears. I mean, I’m trying my best here.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, a small laugh slipping out despite the steadily growing warmth in your body. “Mushroom ears?” you repeated, grinning. “You really—”

And then it hit—a sudden, sharp pulse that shot straight between your thighs, stealing the words right out of your mouth. You froze, the giggle dying on your lips, replaced by a low, startled whine. Your legs pressed together instinctively, but it didn’t stop the insistent tingling that followed, leaving your breath hitching and a deep flush rising to your cheeks. You turned to Joshua, pouting, your lips quivering as if pleading for an explanation or maybe even help.

Joshua’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “W-what’s wrong? Did something else happen?”

“Joshua” you look up at him with pleading eyes as you bit your lower lip “can I suck you off?”

He couldn't say no to that.

Joshua swallowed hard, his breath shallow as he watched you squirm beside him. His gaze flickered from your parted lips to your flushed cheeks, and then—before he could second-guess himself—he moved.

His hands found your waist, tugging you closer with a desperate kind of urgency. Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping onto the fabric of his hoodie as he leaned in. For a moment, there was hesitation, his lips hovering just over yours, his warm breath fanning across your skin. But then you whimpered—soft, needy—and that was all it took.

His lips crashed into yours, the kiss messy and feverish, all tongue and heat. He groaned as his hands slid up your back, pulling you flush against him as your mouths moved together, the taste of strawberries and something heady lingering between you. It was clumsy at first, frantic, both of you too overwhelmed by the heat coursing through your bodies to be careful. Your fingers tangled in his silver hair, tugging slightly, and he let out a muffled moan against your lips.

The kiss deepened, tongues sliding together in a slick, needy mess. Spit gathered at the corners of your mouths, neither of you pulling away long enough to break the intoxicating rhythm you’d fallen into. He sucked lightly on your bottom lip before diving back in, licking into your mouth with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You gasped into him, letting him devour every sound you made.

His grip on you tightened, his hands pressing into your hips, your back, anywhere he could reach. Your own hands roamed up his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric of his clothing. Every movement, every press of his lips against yours, made the ache inside you worse, made the tingling more unbearable.

Joshua broke away for a brief second, both of you panting, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. His eyes were dark, dazed, pupils blown wide as he stared at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world.

“Is this—” he gasped, barely holding himself together. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, barely able to think past the throbbing heat inside you. “Don’t stop,” you breathed.

And just like that, he was on you again, kissing you deeper, messier—like he needed you to breathe

And that's how both you and Joshua found yourselves in a bit of a predicament, you're situated between his thighs, swallowing him whole with greed as he throws his head back, fingers tangled in your hair. Your right hand is keeping you steady, providing support by holding on to Joshua's thigh. Your left hand however, is busy drawing circles on your clit.

Joshua bit his lower lip and whimpered your name as he lets out a string of curses. You've never heard him speak in such a high pitched voice before, it was cute actually. But you didn't have time to focus on that, your precious deity needed to come. You kept on hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue around his heavy length— desperate to have him drip down your throat.

You were a bit surprised to see his size at first, he was for a better word— big. Upon pulling his shorts and underwear down, you discovered that he was slightly curved, with a perfect mushroom shaped tip. You suppose that being the mushroom deity means also having a mushroom shaped cock— but you didn't have time to comment on it as Joshua had already whimpered, asking if he could shove it inside your lips.

“Fuck— I can't!” Joshua whimpers as his eyebrows are furrowed, his grip on your hair tightens as he delivers a rough thrust forward and spills inside your mouth. He pulled out, panting. Looking down at you with dazed eyes as you swallowed his release.

Would it be weird if you were to say he tasted a bit like cream?

Regardless, Joshua didn't stay idle for long. He immediately picked you up and brought you to the bedroom, stripping your shorts down, he looked at you as if to ask for permission.

“Do whatever you want, shua” you gave him the green light.

And did whatever he wanted to, indeed.

Joshua had you sitting on his face, straddling his head with your thighs as he moaned into your heat. His tongue moved around in circles as he devoured you. Who knew that a deity would be this good in bed?

“Fuck, shua—” you hissed when he licked a stripe up to your clit, and you felt the bastard chuckle against your cunt as you lifted your hips a bit. Joshua whines, immediately gripping your hips and pulling you back down to his face. His actions on you were relentless, licking and sucking with no mercy as he made sure that his nose was angled perfectly with your clit. He would not let you leave— or move. It's like his face was your throne. No matter how much ‘please’ or ‘too much!’ you whimpered at him he wouldn't stop abusing your hole with his tongue. And darn him— he's very good at using it. Maybe being alive for over a thousand years had him practicing. You were a bit lost in thought when suddenly, Joshua suckled on your clit and nipped at your folds gently.

And then, you came. He lapped up your release with fervor as if it was the sweetest nectar he had ever had in his life.

But Joshua wasn't satisfied just yet. Despite your trembling thighs, he pushed you down on to the bed. Face down, ass up as he pushed himself inside. You groaned, feeling how nicely he fills you up. The curve of his cock fits nicely against you as he starts to thrust slowly, whispering little “so good for me” and “you're so perfect” as he batters up your walls. You couldn't think straight. Not with Joshua ruining you so deliciously, the way his fingers sneaked forward to fill your mouth as he snaps his hips, pubic bone slapping against your ass.

You couldn't get enough of him, curse that damned mushroom. Somehow he had found a way to bore into your heart and hole, using his mushroom ways. Both with his unlimited knowledge regarding fungi— and also his own mushroom tip. Your eyes rolled back and you gasped against his fingers when you felt him hit that perfect spot, and Joshua noticed as well. He picks up his pace, slamming against you with more power as he abused that spot that made you scream his name.

“Oh—! Joshua!” You'd whimper against his thick fingers, and the damned mushroom man would just laugh while panting “Yeah? You like that? Like it when I hit you right—” he angled deeper “there? Hm?” You were too gone to respond by now, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he whispers sweet nothings in your ears, asking to come together. And not long after, you felt the stretched rubber band feeling on your lower belly snap— as you went limp against him. Joshua kept on going, though. Chasing his own release. It didn't take long until he halted, filling you up with his seed as he gasped and panted for air.

The two of you laid down for a while, no one said anything, as he just traced circles on your back.

Oh yeah, you definitely had the best roommate ever.

“So when's your next heat cycle?” You mentioned offhandedly to your boyfriend as you sipped your cup of coffee and he turns red, his head turning against you in 0.1 seconds as he whines

“It's just a one time thing!” He defended himself “I just .. I was asleep for so long that it got built up!”

“Hm. What a shame, mushroom boy” you hummed

What a shame.

bonus:

joshua's phone pings, and it’s one message from you, just a little over 24 hours since your last message went ignored.

he glances down and feels his stomach turn.

i have evidence.

an hour later, joshua and jeonghan are sprawled across the latter’s living room. when they’d seen your message, both of them had quickly and wordlessly vacated the cafe they were holed up in, gotten to jeonghan’s apartment frighteningly fast, and rifled through the series of messages you sent—all of them photos you took of your boyfriend’s phone screen.

at first, joshua was just annoyed at how hard snapchat made it to read messages; most of the ones sent by whoever your boyfriend was were deleted. he was ready to wave you off and call your “evidence” a reach. but then, he got to more damning photos—photos he was vexed jeonghan got to see too.

because they just proved his know-it-all best friend right. mina was a fucking snake.

he’s shocked at the lengths they went to to be able to communicate with each other without being caught.

but perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of them all comes last: a photo of a woman’s naked back as she laid on her side in a bed—that wasn’t joshua’s or mina’s—away from the camera. it could’ve been anyone. the small tattoo at the base of her neck told joshua exactly who it was.

“so what now?” jeonghan asks, both of them still starfished on the floor and staring at the ceiling after spending several minutes furiously swiping and cussing at his screen. “let’s fill all her shampoo bottles with hair remover,” he answers his own question before joshua can even open his mouth. “oh! or we can follow her around, inevitably find this dude, and kidnap him! i’m sure this y/n person will appreciate that too!”

joshua doesn’t bother entertaining his best friend with a proper response, choosing to ignore the suggestions altogether. his mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to find the point in his relationship mina might have started straying away. has it been happening the entire time? or did she recently decide joshua wasn’t fulfilling her needs to her liking?

“… his car and it’ll probably break down and explode at some point later that week?”

he frowns, realizing jeonghan has been suggesting ridiculous things they can do to mina and your boyfriend the entire time he was contemplating his relationship. it’s his first time getting cheated on, but he isn’t surprised at his best friend’s reaction to it. he’s more surprised when silence blankets over them for several long seconds before jeonghan asks:

“are you okay?” he sighs. “i know that’s a dumb question to ask. you’re obviously not going to be okay after finding out your girlfriend cheated on you.”

his frown deepens at that. it’s a fair statement. he always imagined this kind of thing would throw him into some kind of jealous rage—emotions he’s not really familiar with. rage like yours.

he wonders if he had been the one to find out about this, would he have had a meltdown the way you did? make a burner account and find you to tell you the way you did? try to find someone to commiserate with—even if it’s a stranger—the way you did?

no, probably not. he was telling the truth when he told you that all he would do is break up with mina.

and he’s incredibly confused to find that, contrary to what jeonghan is saying, he feels very okay with that. he can’t really imagine caring enough to do anything more, and he doesn’t know why. shouldn’t he care more?

if you and jeonghan were wrong about him loving mina the way he was so convinced you were, why didn’t he care more?

“joshua,” jeonghan reaches over and pokes his shoulder. “speak. you’re scaring me.”

he snorts. “i’m fine.”

“okay…” he responds slowly. “so still in shock?”

“no, i really think i’m fine,” joshua says, shaking his head at the ceiling. “i feel… normal. i guess just confused about when and why she decided to cheat.”

“you did nothing wrong. she’s just a conniving, slutty ingrate who doesn’t know that she’s throwing away the most decent man in the universe,” he assures him. “which brings me back to my initial question. what should we do now to punish said conniving, slutty ingrate?”

joshua sighs. “we’re not doing anything. i am breaking up with her as soon as she gets off work.”

jeonghan perks up, rolling over onto his stomach and crawling to him until his head appears in his line of vision. his best friend has a shit-eating smile on his face that makes him instinctively roll his eyes.

“can i be there?”

he knows he should say no. it’s an absurd request and it shouldn’t even take joshua more than a second to answer. but as he thinks about it, jeonghan continuing to smile at him like a little devil on his shoulder, he thinks it might be nice to have him there and shame mina for cheating in a way he knows he doesn’t really care to do himself.

he shrugs. “sure, why not?”

jeonghan squeals with delight, scrambling to get up. “come on, we have to make sure you look smoking hot so it hurts her twice as bad. you can borrow my leather pants.”

“leather?!” joshua repeats. “it’s the middle of summer!”

joshua texted mina to let her know he wanted to talk to her after work and he would be dropping by. she told him several times that tonight wasn’t a great time and insisted they wait until tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about her convenience, so here he is, with jeonghan practically vibrating with excitement at his side, standing outside her apartment building.

“i still think you should’ve worn the leather pants,” his best friend says, “but you look killer. she’s gonna shit herself.”

joshua recoils at the idea but thanks him anyway.

“ready?”

he sighs. “yeah, i guess. ready as i’ll—oof!”

he stumbles a few steps and right into jeonghan as someone violently shoves him, continuing to push and slap at both him and his best friend until they’re several steps away from the entrance to mina’s apartment.

“what the—”

“and what the hell are you doing here?!” a female voice shrieks.

he wants to yell at this stranger for putting her hands on him. he wants to tell her to have some manners and to get away from him. at the very least, he wants to glare at her until she shrivels up in shame and scurries away. but all ideas of even attempting to do any of that die as soon as he lays eyes on the stranger.

your instagram photos don’t really do you justice. your photos were well-taken and curated perfectly for your profile, but now that you were—for some weird reason—standing in front of joshua and jeonghan, he can confidently call your photos dirty liars. he can’t blame them, though. he has a feeling no camera in the world can capture how pretty you actually are in real life.

prettier than anyone i’ve ever dated, his intrusive thoughts remind him. prettier than mina.

“well?!” you screech when neither of them answer you, making them both flinch. you don’t notice your effect on them, though, because you’re busy frantically looking between them and the entrance of the building like you’re scared the three of you will be seen.

he knows jeonghan is thinking the same, exact thing he is because he is never rendered silent.

“i—uh,” joshua stammers for what he thinks might be the very first time in his life. “we…”

jeonghan glances at him, face twisted in amused confusion before he schools his expression and points his signature stunning smile at you. “you’re y/n! hi!”

“who the hell are you?” you turn back to them, cross your arms, and practically bark at him.

his best friend’s laugh is exaggerated and several decibels louder than it has any business being. it grates joshua’s nerves. he glares at him but jeonghan pays him no attention. “i like her,” he mutters to him before saying, “i’m jeonghan.”

“okay, jeonghan,” you spit his name like venom, obviously unimpressed, making him giggle.

joshua rolls his eyes at him and his increasing giddiness. his best friend doesn’t date often, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he enjoys this kind of vitriol. jeonghan is, at his core, attracted to the same chaos he himself is made of.

“what are you doing here?” you ask again, raising an eyebrow at joshua to make it clear you’re talking to him.

“i’m… here to break up,” he answers weakly. “with mina! i’m here to break up with… mina.”

he doesn’t know what’s come over him, but being confronted by you in person and unnervingly close in his vicinity has him forgetting how to properly communicate. the thought of blocking you was a lot easier when he had no idea if you were a real person. now, he feels like there’s no escaping you.

“what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks the question he forgets to return to you.

you ignore him, eyes staying trained on joshua as you speak, and something about you pretending like his best friend doesn’t exist forces him to fight down a smile.

“you’re not breaking up with her today,” you order him confidently, like you know saying it is enough for joshua to agree. if the way his palms start to sweat are any indication, you might be right. “she’s up there with siwoo.”

“who’s—”

“my boyfriend,” you answer before jeonghan can finish his question. “i followed him here when he told me he was getting drinks with coworkers.”

joshua’s stomach flips. he’s not really sure how anyone can even think about another person in your presence, let alone cheat on you. maybe your intensity scares siwoo, though. it definitely kind of scares him.

“you mean… they’re up there right now… and they’re probably…” jeonghan’s sentence trails off, but you’re you and you don’t shy away from finishing it.

“fucking?” you ask with a biting and sarcastic enthusiasm. “yeah, jeonghan! probably!”

joshua winces. your fury was already palpable via DMs, but it’s near suffocating in person. it grabs him by the neck and shoves his face back into the dilemma he was quietly contemplating back at jeonghan’s apartment: why isn’t he sharing the same anger? why isn't he doubled over, throwing up at the idea of mina having sex with someone up in her apartment at this very moment?

“are you hungry?” you ask joshua.

“what?” he asks dumbly.

“are. you. hungry?” you repeat, irritation laced in your voice.

“i am!” jeonghan announces.

you give him a blank stare before looking back at joshua. when he fails to say anything, you sigh, your temper appearing to deflate infinitesimally.

“they’re going to be a while,” you inform him like you’ve done this before. “there’s a fried chicken shop i like nearby.” okay, so you’ve definitely done this before. “we can eat and… talk, i guess.”

“we would love to talk. right, joshua?” jeonghan asks, pinching his side with more force than necessary. he fights to keep from jumping.

"sure," he finally agrees. "i could eat."

"thanks for ignoring me amidst my weekend-long menty b, by the way," you say sarcastically as you set down a pitcher of beer and three glasses next to the tray of friend chicken on the table.

"ment—?"

"mental breakdown," jeonghan whispers to him as he reaches to pluck a piece of fried chicken from the tray.

instead of depositing it on his own plate, he stretches across the table to put it on yours. joshua's eyes involuntarily narrow at the gesture. he doesn't realize he's glaring at his best friend until he speaks again.

"what?" he pouts at him but his eyes glint with mischief. "ladies first."

"thanks," you murmur, not-at-all sounding thankful. jeonghan snorts. "well? explain your rude behavior." he looks back over to you to find you sulking. you add more chicken to your plate even though you haven't touched the one jeonghan gave you.

"ah." joshua shakes his head. "i was just... not all the way convinced."

"and now?"

"now what?"

"i take it you're all the way convinced?" you clarify as you tear into your first piece of chicken like you haven't eaten in years. with a full mouth, you add: "i mean, i assume you are if you're here to break up with your girlfriend."

"uh... yeah..." he nods slowly, distracted.

joshua is often described by his friends as a gentleman—elegant even. with the exception of jeonghan and mingyu—the two people who know him best—he is always polite and accommodating. he's careful that his clothes are always pressed and lint-free. he always has good posture, and he does his best to remember his table etiquette, especially in the presence of elders. he tries to be buttoned up and put-together almost all of the time, sometimes even to his own detriment.

so staring at you, wiping soy garlic sauce off your mouth with the back of your hand and talking with your pieces of chewed up chicken tucked into one, puffy cheek, he should absolutely feel repulsed.

he frowns at you and knows it probably looks like he is repulsed by you. but really, he's just confused about why you look so endearing sitting there, eating like it pains you to while taking turns glaring at your drumstick and glaring at him and his best friend.

"hello?" you wave your saucy fingers in front of joshua's face. "is he always this... spacey?" you ask jeonghan without taking your eyes off him.

"i'm glad you asked! no," the man next to him answers—also through cheeks full of chicken. "i've actually never seen him this nerv—"

"sorry, what were you saying?" joshua interjects before everyone at this table, including him, has to face the fact that yes, he is very much nervous and he's unsure why.

you sigh as you wipe your fingers on a napkin. "what is it about me that men's eyes just begin to glaze over as soon as my mouth opens?" you complain, the signature rage joshua has come to expect from you in the one hour he's known you bubbling back to the surface.

his eyes widen in horror at the thought of you mistaking his fascination with disinterest. "oh! i didn't—no, i'm not—i—"

"what joshua is trying and failing miserably to say," jeonghan cuts in, sneaking him a look that screams get it together, "is that no one here is ignoring you. he's just... trying to process all of this. after all, you had all weekend to think about this, and he just realized you were telling the truth, what? two hours ago?"

you stare at jeonghan with the same unimpressed expression you’ve been forcing on him since you met him. after a moment, your gaze travels to joshua, and he gives you a meek smile. you finally hum in understanding.

“sorry, i know i’m projecting. i’m just all…” you wave your hand wildly near your temple to mimic a muddled brain. “siwoo has done a number on me.”

joshua finally gains enough composure to string a sentence together. “i’m sorry i ignored your messages… and blocked your burner account.” you cringe at that but nod an acceptance of his apology. “and i’m sorry i’m not fully present right now. jeonghan’s right.”

kind of. not really. he was processing your existence more than he was processing being cheated on, to be frank.

“i’m just… trying to understand what’s happening, i guess. for what it’s worth, i find it really unbelievable that anyone would ever cheat on you.”

he ignores the way jeonghan inhales deeply and slowly through his nose. only joshua would be able to tell it’s the equivalent of him scream-giggling and kicking his feet when he’s trying to be discreet.

your eyebrows rise like you’re shocked joshua is capable of more than grunts and one-word replies.

“ditto,” you say plainly. joshua can’t help the immediate laugh that escapes his mouth at that, and he’s pleased when you smile for the first time since you met. “mina seems dumb. and not just because she and siwoo are ruining my life. you’re very handsome. and if you blocking me on instagram so fast was any indication, you seem very loyal too.”

you say it easily, as if giving out compliments like that is no big deal to you. maybe it isn’t, but even if that’s true, he’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.

unfortunately, that appreciation manifests in a fierce blush joshua feels spreading across his face like wildfire, much to his mortification. he doesn’t remember the last time he blushed like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush. it was probably when he was an actual pathetic schoolboy with a crush.

he clears his throat, choosing to ignore the compliment. “yeah, i guess we have the same, bad taste in dummies.”

you suddenly groan, throw your head back, and blink rapidly at the ceiling like you're trying your best not to cry. both men glance at each other and fidget awkwardly at the abrupt change of mood, neither of them being great at handling a crying woman. joshua has little to no experience with it and jeonghan tends to fall back on ill-timed jokes during times of distress.

"i followed him here months ago," you tell them unprompted. “i followed him here so many times because he was always so fucking sketchy. but his lie always involved ‘one of the guys,’ so i just thought his friend lived in that building.”

“and you found out this weekend…?” jeonghan asks carefully. joshua rubs the back of his neck nervously.

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before bringing your line of sight back to them. your eyes are glassy but your efforts to keep from crying were mostly successful.

“he lent me his laptop because mine stopped working,” you explain, rolling your eyes like having a broken laptop on top of all this is almost enough to send you over the edge. “his texts are connected on there too. i was at a cafe with a friend, and one of those verification texts came through. i ignored it but a few seconds later, it messaged again and i saw that he’d replied on his phone.”

“he told her it was safe to text,” joshua says, remembering the photos you sent.

“yeah…” you breathe, hugging yourself tightly and rubbing your arms as you try to self-soothe. “and i just sat there in front of my friends, watching him make plans with her in real time… brainstorm the lies they agreed to tell us… and i just had to pretend to be normal or else i would’ve burned that cafe to the ground.”

jeonghan coughs as he chokes on his chicken a little. joshua pats him on the back absentmindedly, eyes never leaving you, even as his best friend stretches across him, still coughing, to pour everyone a glass of beer. you sniffle as you accept your glass with a small nod, your body visibly relaxing after the first sip. he tries not to gawk when you finish the entire glass in one go.

joshua thinks this is probably what someone in love should look like when their heart has been broken: drunk and sad. now that the initial shock of seeing you in person has worn off, he can see how tired you really look. there are dark, bruising circles under your eyes, visible even under your makeup, and your hair looks like it was haphazardly put up into a ponytail to avoid having to wash or brush it. your eyes are tinged pink, a little swollen, and dull, like you’ve been crying all weekend. you have been crying all weekend.

and joshua? he’s asking himself why he hasn’t felt the urge to cry at all yet because right now, he could be the poster child for soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend who is going to be okay has been okay, is okay, and will always be okay. aside from his irritation with mina and her insane audacity, today is like any other day.

he’s never had his heart broken before this, but maybe it’s just different for guys. he read somewhere that men’s emotional intelligence develops a lot slower than women’s; maybe he just hasn’t reached a level of maturity you have.

“anyway,” you say as you stifle a tiny burp that makes jeonghan giggle for the nth time tonight, “i’m going to ruin his life.”

okay, so maybe maturity is the wrong word.

“wh…” joshua glances at jeonghan for confirmation he heard correctly.

his best friend’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he leans forward with impossibly even more interest in what the pretty lady across the table has to say. joshua would slap him if they were alone. what for, he doesn’t know, but he would.

“sorry, what was that?” he asks, trying not to sound judgmental at the risk of setting your anger off again.

“she’s going to ruin his life,” jeonghan answers for you giddily. “what are you going to do? i told joshua he should fill mina’s shampoo bottle with hair remover.”

that earns the two men another smile from you, but this time joshua finds himself annoyed it was because of something jeonghan said.

“oh my god, that’s vile,” you say even though you’re grinning and obviously love the idea. “maybe i’ll add that as a little cherry on top for siwoo.”

“oh, he’ll be so ugly,” jeonghan claims like he’s already daydreaming about it.

“you don’t even know what he looks like,” joshua murmurs.

“i don’t need to,” he responds, smiling as he stares off into the distance. “a stupid motherfucker who can cheat on our lovely y/n here like that has to look like ass.”

you roll your eyes at the compliment but your cheeks turn a cute shade of pink anyway.

“well, making him bald will look like child’s play when i’m done with him,” you match jeonghan’s dreamy tone, and joshua feels a chill of fear from having the two of you at the same table crawl up his spine. why was he a magnet for agents of chaos?

“is that why you haven’t broken up?” he asks. “you’re scheming to ruin his life?”

you frown. “what makes you think we haven’t broken up?”

joshua shrugs. “maybe the fact that you followed him here and then shoved me and my best friend into next week to keep us from attracting any attention?”

jeonghan snickers and your cheeks turn a darker shade.

“ah, right.” you nod once. “sorry about that.” you don’t look sorry at all and joshua finds himself thinking it’s amusing. “i suppose that was a bit… rude.”

joshua hums like he’s contemplating your apology but he knows it’s clear he’s fighting a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.

you sigh. “anyway, yes. that’s why i’m still with him. he doesn’t even know i know. i’m trying to get my ducks in a row and figure out the most devastating way to leave him.”

jeonghan smirks. “my kind of girl.”

joshua’s foot finds his best friend’s and stomps on it as hard as he can without thinking twice about it. it almost shocks him—how much it felt like instinct—but after the day he’s had, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a tantrum. maybe this is how he is when his heart is broken. a little mean.

“ow, what the fu—”

“so what’s the plan?” joshua asks loudly when your eyes snap up to jeonghan mid-sip over the glass of your beer.

you lick your lips clean of foam before setting the glass down, and joshua forces himself to look away when he notices how plump and pink they are.

“well, to be honest… i haven’t been the smartest,” you admit, seeming timid for the first time since you barged into his DMs. it’s an odd look on you. “i—um. i kind of rely on him… financially.”

the explanation comes tumbling past your lips after that like you’re afraid the two of them are going to judge you if you allow even a second of silence to pass.

“i had a job! i had a great job! but siwoo’s a bit traditional, and he comes from a more conservative family that really buys into gender roles, and i mean, fuck that, right?”

you give them no chance to agree.

“i’m a feminist! i swear to god i’m a fucking feminist!” you’re practically shouting now and the two men are so stunned, they can’t bring themselves to notice or care that the other patrons of the restaurant are starting to look over. “but i was in love! and i thought i was going to marry this moron! so i convinced myself i wanted to stay home and i wanted to clean the house and take care of a man—”

you say the word with so much disgust, both joshua and jeonghan struggle to keep from laughing.

“—and he was so happy when i quit my job like he’s been asking me to, and i thought i was happy too, like, what woman doesn’t want to be taken care of by a rich man?!”

you pause to burp briefly but it still isn’t enough time for either of them to get a word in.

“though again, i was in love! i was looking at that shithead through rose-tinted glasses! he’s nothing but a spoiled mama’s boy with a rich family! that asshole doesn’t have to do anything for the wealth he has! so now it's, like, what woman wants to be fake-taken-care-of by a 30-something-year-old mama’s boy?!”

the words come with even more disgust than “man.”

“and he had the nerve to act like he was better than me because i had to make everything i had before i met him! like, dude. if your bank account is still connected to your fucking mom’s, lower your goddamn voice when speaking to me!”

his best friend’s mouth drops open in absolute joy-filled shock at your biting remark. he’s enjoying meeting someone as chaotic as he is too much.

“and what was it for?! empty promises that he would propose soon?! endless faked orgasms for a man who’s afraid to give a woman head?!”

jeonghan chokes again, this time on nothing. joshua has more decorum but he can’t help the way his face turns bright red.

“you’d swear i was harboring a monster down there the way he cringed at the mere mention of oral, like, what is he, 12?!”

joshua has to avert his eyes to the ceiling of the restaurant at the mention of your “monster,” and he can’t even get it together long enough to nudge jeonghan when he bursts into hysterical laughter. they might as well be nonexistent, though, because you keep barreling through your rant.

“i was on track to be a director before 30! i was a fucking star! and look what he made me!” you screech, words slurring.

it takes your slurred speech and yet another burp for joshua to realize with mild horror that the pitcher of beer is almost empty, and that he and jeonghan are still on their first glasses. he elbows his best friend, who’s still cackling, and motions at the pitcher. jeonghan sighs happily as the last of his laughter leaves him and mutters a quiet: holy shit, pretty aggretsuko can drink.

“he turned me into a housewife without even making me a wife! and let me remind you: I AM A FEMINIST!” you slam your palms against the table with each word to punctuate your point. joshua can see why you picked aggretsuko for your burner account. “i support a woman’s choice to be a housewife if that’s what she wants, but my dumb ass didn’t realize that this isn’t the life i wanted until this fucking weekend! god!” you groan miserably. “all of this heartache and for what?! he cheated on me and now i’m jobless and about to be homeless and completely broke, and i…”

you seem to abruptly run out of steam, slumping in your seat and looking at your near-empty glass of beer pitifully. joshua has the urge to round the table and give you a hug, but he stays put, trying to process the whiplash of witnessing what he imagines is a mini “menty b.”

you take a few breaths before quietly saying, “i can’t believe this is what being in love got me.”

something violently lurches inside joshua’s chest when you say that.

“i can’t believe something that’s supposed to be as beautiful as love blinded me so badly.” your voice cracks. your eyes well with tears and this time, you make no move to stop them as they begin to streak your face. “how the hell can love hurt this much?”

joshua’s mouth falls open to say something—anything. any kind of comfort or kindness or advice. but no sound escapes his lips as he watches your heart break into tiny, little pieces in front of him.

he’ll look back at this moment and realize this was the first time his heart learned something he, himself, didn't know yet: what he had with mina wasn’t love—that maybe, he had actually never even been in love before. there’s no world where mina would ever have the kind of effect siwoo has on you on him, and there isn't anything mina can do that would make joshua scorn the concept of love because it's something he never even experienced with her.

but for now, all he can think is that, despite barely knowing you and despite being somewhat afraid of you, he has an insatiable want to fix this for you. he wants you to stop crying. he wants to see the rare smiles they were gifted tonight on your face once more. most of all, he wants to make the man who made you cry sorry for ever entering your life.

the words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about them.

he's also thee best comforter during exam season omg!!!

more than willing to stay up all night studying with you if it makes you feel better

he knows how u spiral into panic if you're left on ur own, so the closer it gets to exams, he starts showering u with even MOREE affection than before

and you know he'll be showering u with kisses once exams r FINALLY out of the way as a congratulations 😙

always leaves snacks in your bag and little post-its with cat faces drawn on them to reminder you to drink water bc he KNOWS that you're so bad at taking care of urself when you're fully locked in

"hey junnie, you know you can just text me, right?" / "are you saying you don't like my cat drawings :((" / "whAT NO I WOULD NEVER—"

also just bc he's a broke college student does nawwt mean you'll ever catch him slacking as ur bf !!

gives you little gifts whenever possible, is always showing up at ur dorm with flowers, buys you books + clothes + stationary + groceries + whatever he can to show he cares

one thing he won't do, though, is catch bugs for you.

nuh uh. that is a no-go.

who cares that he's literally 600000x bigger than the spider? the spider is still WAYY scarier than he'll EVER be so he is NOT touching that no thank you.

the two of you stay glued to one corner of the library till ur friend arrives and scares the spider off

but junhui makes up for his bug-related uselessness by being useful in literally every other area of ur life

hungry? he'll cook for you. sick? he'll take care of you. stuck on an essay? he'll help you, even if he's not studying anything remotely related to ur major

he could be in the throes of finishing his dissertation, bags under his eyes and the world on his shoulders but he'll still drop everything to help you

what can he say? he's in love with u.

and what makes it even better is he knows, he knows that you'd do the exact same thing for him too

you're so full of love, so kind and wonderful that he can't help but do all of this in return, just to try and give an ounce of that same love back

it's the least you deserve, he thinks.

(and don't tell anyone, but right after graduation, he's thinking of getting you a promise ring and taking u to visit china with him b4 u go to ur respective internships.)

(and then, further down the line... he's really hoping to marry you one day. you know. because he really does love you a lot. hopefully you love him just as much too.)

You get it—he is a busy person and needs to work so he can be the pillar of his company. But, not during vacations.

Today was supposed to be a long-awaited holiday with your husband, Jeonghan. But, he is all focused on his phone screen—furrowing his eyebrows as he scrolled and scrolled.

“Hannie,” you mumble in a whiny tone, and Jeonghan squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“I'm almost done, baby, trust me.”

You click your tongue, letting out a deep sigh. The night sky was beautiful to look at, and you had been staring at it and clicking pictures to pass the time. But this was your last straw.

He had been saying that for the past 30 minutes. While you did understand that he has work to do, it's unfair that he has to do it during a holiday.

While he continued doing something on his phone, you realised you've had enough. If you knew Jeonghan was gonna stick to his phone the entire day, you wouldn't have come here in a park with him.

And your brain clicked with an idea.

“Hannie, I'm gonna go buy something to eat.” You say, glancing at him as he looked at you and nodded with a smile.

“I'll come with you,” he offered, tightening his grip on your hand. You looked down, thinking about how you can possibly get him to stop holding your hand. Without thinking twice, you slowly removed your hand out of his grip and slid in your purse instead—surprised from the way Jeonghan didn't even notice anything as his eyes stayed glued to his phone.

“Let's go,” you say, waiting for him to start walking. You try your best not to burst into laughter as he hums in response and actually starts to walk ahead, his eyes still on his phone.

Eventually, he disappeared into the crowd and you finally burst out laughing. However, you did get a bit worried about how he would make his way back, but he is an adult and has a brain.

Soon, you started to head towards the little candy store nearby from where you could peek at Jeonghan. Tapping your fingers against the fabric of your long skirt, you crank your head to see whether or not he finally realised that you were missing. Just when you looked at him, he started to look around with a dumbfounded look like a lost puppy, occasionally glancing down at the purse in his hands.

Covering your mouth, you let out a giggle at the sight of an adorably confused Jeonghan—a rare sight, you might want to add. Soon, he tapped his finger against the screen of his phone in a hasty manner, and you got a call. It was him.

Letting out a sigh, you decide that you had pranked him enough and answer it, immediately letting out a giggle when you were met with an overly panicked Jeonghan.

“Baby, where are you!” He sounded so lost, the pout in his voice audible through the phone. Your eyes stayed glued to him as he started to make his way out of the crowd.

“Take a guess, hannie,” you teased. That's when he realised—it was a prank and he indeed did not lose you in the crowd. He let out a defeated grumble, soon followed by a relieved chuckle.

“Don't bully me like this,” he whined, his eyes looking everywhere in search of you.

“Says the one who was ignoring his wife just a few minutes ago,” you double down, earning a soft chuckle from your husband.

“I wasn't ignoring you, love, don't say that,”

“Whatever you did, I didn't like it, Mr. Yoon.” You say with a suppressed chuckle.

“Your husband is sorry. Really, really, reallyyyy sorry!” he dramatically stretched out, the pout on his lips growing. And that's when you felt bad.

How can you let such an adorable man—or should you say, your adorable man—be pranked like this?

You let out a giggle, staring at him from a distance with heart eyes. “Look to your right, hannie,” you say, and when he does, his eyes widen as his lips stretch out into a lovely grin.

He hung up the call and ran towards you immediately. “Babyyy~!” He called out, faking his pout.

Your face brightened with a smile as he threw himself into your arms, his arms wrapping your torso gently but tightly as if you would leave him again.

“You're so so soo mean,” Jeonghan huffed, burying his face in your neck and planting a soft kiss there.

“Calm down, love, my prank didn't even last for like twelve minutes!” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And those twelve minutes felt like jail,” he said, his tone lowering to much softer and genuine one now. “Don't ever do that, I genuinely got scared…” he pulled back, staring at you with a pout.

“Awh, look at you, so down bad for me.” You tease in an attempt to lighten the mood, causing him to break into a smile. He pulled you in for another hug, his body vibrating against yours from his giggles.

“What’s wrong with my ultimate master of teasing? Not biting back?” You plant a kiss to his jaw lovingly, laughing heartily.

“You've seriously taken all my power away,” he sighed, but it was more in amusement.

“Someone's gotta do scientific research on how I did that.” You giggle, gently ruffling his hair with a smile.

“There's no need for one,” he slowly pulled back again, pecking your lips in a quick manner. “I'm just hopelessly in love with you, that's all.”

And that made you giddy and a blushing mess. Even though he should be the one right now.

“Awh~,” Jeonghan cooed, tilting his head, trying to get a better look of your shy face so he could tease you about this later.

For now, he just wants to laugh along with you while he holds you in his arms. Surely, he loves when you become a blushing mess because of him—which was often, but he treasures every moment.

He knows and is determined—he is going to make up for the lost quality time with you while he was busy with office work. Thanks to your prank, he finally came back to his senses and realised that the love of his life is right here with him. The one he prayed to get a single holiday with after his hectic schedules and meetings became a headache.

The one he wants to be with and cherish forever.

KISSBYOON 2025. all rights reserved. @kstrucknet @maestro-net

But, unfortunately, that’s all you can think about these days. 

Because, unfortunately, Yoon Jeonghan is simultaneously the funniest, weirdest, kindest, and most devastatingly handsome man you’ve ever met. 

Yoon Jeonghan is the kind of guy who would drive 40 minutes out of his way just to pick you up, but also wouldn’t yield the last ramen at the local convenience store to you. Though he gives into his internal demands for petty possessiveness quite often, he cares deeply for his friends. 

He’s also the kind of guy people are quick to fall for, only to get crushed by his nonchalant but somewhat firm indifference for dating. You’ve witnessed him casually turn down far too many objectively gorgeous and incredibly intelligent people, which has convinced you that his standards are impossibly high. And if you were honest with yourself, based on the people he’d already rejected, it would be laughable for you to even think about confessing to him.

And so, as a close friend of the most sought-after man on campus, you’d like to think you know Jeonghan well enough to predict his thoughts on romance and his territoriality over ramen.

In fact, you’re sure about the ramen issue, because you’re witnessing it happen right now.

You’re staring at his smirking face in the instant food aisle of the convenience store, both of you gripping the last Neoguri cup like it’s a trophy.

“You gotta learn patience,” Jeonghan tuts, his lips upturned infuriatingly at one corner. 

“No, you should learn patience. 손 빼, [Take your hand off,]” you demand, grasping the cup tighter.

“싫은데? [Don’t wanna,]” he says in a sing-song voice, raising his chin in defiance.

The ramen cup creaks slightly under the pressure of your combined grip, and a terrible thought forms in your head. Your hand is sandwiched between his hand and the cup, making you feel the heat radiating from his body. It’s something you’re afraid you could get used to. 

You narrow your eyes, targeting his ridiculous, perfect lazy smile. “Take it off while I’m being nice.”

“Nah,” he replies immediately, smiling wider, his tongue sliding to the right. 

Your heart lurches at the sight. 

“치사하게 진짜 이럴 거야? [You’re so petty, are you really going to be like this?]” You chew on your bottom lip, eyes flitting between his face and his hand. 

Jeonghan tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes sharp and steady on yours. He’s not really looking at the ramen anymore, and the intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“내가 여기서 이 옷을 입고 있는데, [I’m wearing these clothes here,]” he says, using his free hand to pinch the fabric of the expensive suit he always wears at his internship. “굳이 라면 하나 때문에 나랑 싸운다고? 그냥 빨리 가자, 음? [You’re really gonna fight with me over just one ramen cup? Let’s just go now, hmm?]”

You press your lips together and jut your chin in defiance. 

He sighs dramatically, shaking his head. His shaggy, dark hair flows with it, and you can’t help but think that he looks princely like this, standing in the middle of this convenience store with his stupidly gorgeous face, and that dumb suit and tie. 

“양보해. [Give it up.] I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says, his voice dipping lower. It feels less like an offer and more like a taunt, a challenge. His tone sends a small shiver through you, and for a second, you’re not sure if he’s teasing or serious.

You have to take a slow, deep breath to calm yourself down before even considering what to say next. You’re grateful for the ride (and his company), of course, but that doesn’t mean he can steal your rightful claim under your nose, in the same casual manner he has when letting one of his fans down. 

You’ve always given into him. Because he means everything to you, of course. 

But you’ve had enough of letting him have his way so easily, not with your precious ramen at risk.

You boldly step closer to him, cutting the distance between the two of you in half. You’re close enough to see your reflection in his eyes, now. 

“I’m not letting go, 하니 [Hannie].” You firmly shake your head. You wouldn’t let him win this time. “I don’t want anything but this,” you add, stubbornly.

Tugging hard, you try to pull the cup toward you, but it frustratingly remains stuck on the shelf between the two of you. Looking back up, you see that he isn’t even straining to keep the ramen in place! You frown, wondering when your best friend got so strong.

He leans in just a fraction closer. “Keep trying,” he murmurs, and he’s so close that you can feel his warm breath tickling your face. 

The world narrows to Jeonghan, and the faint scent of the cologne he only wears on weekends. It’s dizzying.

“야아아! [Hey!] I was here first!” you weakly defend, voice embarrassingly squeaky.

And then Jeonghan does something that completely short-circuits your brain.

His free hand lifts and brushes your hair away to your back, before resting on the divot between your neck and collarbone, where his thumb caresses the side of your neck. Feather-light, his touch is gentle, and his fingers are impossibly warm, a stark contrast to this slightly chilly convenience store. You just about choke on your surprise, your heart kicking into overdrive at the sheer intimacy of the gesture. 

God, how is it that you never get a rest day with Jeonghan? How is it that he’s always flirting, always disregarding the boundaries of platonic and romantic love, always making you confused? And how is it that you just let it happen, that you just take whatever affection he gives you? How is it that you’re drawn into his dangerous touch like a moth to a flame? Except that analogy doesn’t really work, because at least moths don’t know that they’re in danger when they reach fire—you know what you’re getting into, and you know all too well that Jeonghan will never be yours. 

“Please?” he whispers.

Your breath hitches, suddenly aware that even for your overly-touchy friend, this level of skinship is extreme. 

Does he know? Has he found out that you’re in love with him, that you’ve been keeping this ungodly secret from him for far too long? Does he know that every time he lets someone down, that every time he complains to you about people confessing and crying over him, you give him superficial laughs as you swallow your own feelings? 

Does he know that you feel like sinking into the ground every time he entertains a random girl flirting with him, and that every time he crosses boundaries with you, it hammers in the fact that he thinks you’re a joke? 

Does he know that you’ve spent over a year trying to convince yourself that you don’t have feelings for him, only to fail miserably, because there is no such thing as cutting Yoon Jeonghan out of your life, because he makes you feel so, so alive? 

He must know. He must be making fun of you, now.

Your eyes widen, frantically searching his face for an ounce of malice. And you expect to see the look he always has when shredding the hearts of the brave people who confess to him, the face he makes when he casually tells someone that he doesn’t feel the same way. You expect to see an almost-cruel, blank stare paired with apologetic lips pressed together. 

You expect him to crush your heart. 

But instead, he’s staring at you with a gaze so, so, very soft, you wonder if you’ve hallucinated it. Shining eyes, raised eyebrows, mouth parted—he looks devastatingly beautiful. 

You can’t even bring yourself to blink, afraid that it might disappear before you can commit it to memory.

Technically, he’s looked like this before—you’ve seen it a handful of times on movie nights when you leaned against his shoulder, sleepily rambling about the bad decisions the main character had made. You’ve always figured that it was just the face he made when he was running on eight percent battery, tired and only half-registering the words coming out of your mouth. 

But now, seeing this version of Jeonghan out of its usual context, your heart stops. 

Your grip slackens.

In an instant, Jeonghan takes advantage of your daze. He snatches the ramen, links his arm through yours, and drags you to the counter. Your feet stumble, but his hold on you is firm, keeping you stable throughout the entire sudden exchange. He sets a bill on the counter, and then you’re being ushered out of the convenience store. 

The freezing cold bites at your cheeks as you stand in a haze of confusion by the passenger seat of Jeonghan’s car, unable to do anything but just watch as he starts the engine and unlocks the door. He stares at you through the window, waiting. 

If you could move a muscle on your face, you’d furrow your brows, wondering what he’s waiting for. But you’re still frozen, and before you can really think about it, Jeonghan gets tired of waiting. 

He gets out of the car and walks over to you, squeezing your shoulders as he shifts you a little to the left. Withdrawing one of his hands from your shoulders, he opens the door, and then maneuvers you inside, using the same hand to cover the top frame of the door. You bump your forehead slightly against it, and he buckles you into the passenger seat—all without a word.

When you blink owlishly at him, he just ruffles your hair and shuts the door carefully, then walks over to the driver’s side. 

Dazed, you literally have nothing to say. 

When Jeonghan gets back into the car, he looks over at you with an unreadable gaze, then reaches his hand over the console to you, this time holding an object out. Your eyes flicker downward, then shoot up at him immediately.

The ramen?

You squint at his outstretched hand, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. 

Jeonghan never yields. 

“Take it,” he says simply, airily, as if his giving up was obvious all along.

You hesitate, finger lightly tracing the top of the cup. 

“Come on,” he insists, his eyes still intensely trained on yours. “I… it was always yours.”

Your fingers close over the cup, brushing his hand. He exhales softly, the corners of his lips twitching.

Averting your eyes from him and his strange actions, you drop the ramen in your lap, then settle for staring outside the window at the night sky, finding it unbearable to look at him. Drumming your fingers against the border of the window, you get lost in thought. You’re not sure you can handle it if Jeonghan tries to flirt with you again. Every time he does it, it just hammers in the crushing idea that you’re nothing but a friend to him. That you’re just someone to practice on while he waits for the goddess of his dreams to appear, or something.

And then a strange thought occurs to you. A silly thought, really. When Jeonghan said that the ramen was always yours, he didn’t use the “ih” sound that the word “it” has. No, he used the pronoun “I” first, before correcting himself. A faint, pitiful smile makes its way to your lips as your heart pangs. 

Just what would you give to hear him say “I was always yours” someday?

Oh, maybe everything. 

────୨ৎ────

The gentle hum of the car engine fills the silence from the lack of conversation between the two of you. The moon and the stars are beautiful tonight, and you’re content with staring at them instead of the man driving the car. You prop your head up with your elbow against the window, closing your eyes with every lull of the engine. If Jeonghan ever looked over at you at a red light, you wouldn’t know, preoccupied with pretending to be asleep. 

When you feel the car come to a complete stop, you’re still feigning sleep, but you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows slightly. Surely, 40 minutes haven’t already passed? It seems way too soon. Had you actually dozed off at some point between staring out the window and faking sleep?

You peek one eye open, only to startle at Jeonghan’s gaze trained on you already, immediately opening the other. He seems completely at ease, with one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. He stretches his fingers, accentuating the veins on his forearms, and you have to avert your eyes for a moment. 

“잘 잤니? [Sleep well?]” he asks casually. 

You look back at him, and see a strand of his dark hair fall into his eyes. Fingers twitching, you fight the urge to brush it behind his ear. 

You answer him with a nod and flush, wondering if he could tell you were acting the entire time. Hands itching for something to do, you fiddle with your seatbelt.

“야, 나 좀 보고 말해봐, 음? [Hey, can’t you look at me and talk, hmm?]”

You glance at Jeonghan out of the corner of your eye, then shy away again. He looks too good right now, too much like a doting boyfriend. You pick at a loose thread from the bottom hem of your shirt.

“자꾸 나를 안 보니까 섭섭하네. [You keep not looking at me, I’m sad.]”

You faintly laugh. In all your years of knowing the man, you’ve yet to see Yoon Jeonghan truly sad. He’s always, always composed. He never says anything without thinking about it first, and he doesn’t have to lift a single finger that he doesn’t want to, because he knows that people will jump just to fall at his feet. It’s funny that Jeonghan now just assumes that with a few pretty words, he’ll get his way. 

But your resentment is growing. It started with the ramen, and built up with how he won at the end of the fight. And it peaked when he gloated under the guise of kindly yielding the cup to you, leaving you stranded in your confusion, leaving you to sort out your racing mind and heart. What’s worse is, he has a history of doing this to you. But you never learn. Because he also has a history of giving the best, warmest, longest hugs. And he tells you all the time that he wants to be with you forever, that even when you’re 80 and wrinkly, he’ll come over every day to sing duets using your karaoke machine. And he has a bad habit of staring into your eyes with so much adoration, that you mistake it for real love. 

He has a history of making you think that his flirting might actually mean something real to him. But he never confesses any feelings, because they don’t exist, and you feel the pain of being used as romantic practice all the same. 

You’ve tried to convince yourself to just accept his affections as platonic love, but it has become increasingly more difficult to ignore it. How can you, when you get a rush of serotonin from seeing how bright his smile is when he whispers an inside joke to you in the middle of your fatally boring math discussion? How can you, when Jeonghan insists on picking you up from work even though it’s a waste of time and gas for him to make the far drive here and back? Your heart has grown to accommodate, and even expect, the constant fluttering it feels in his presence. 

So, to be exact, it’s not that you feel resentment toward him—it’s resentment for your lack of a backbone when it comes to all things Yoon Jeonghan. It happens all the time; you get mad at him, and the consequences last for all of five seconds before your will caves. 

“근대, 안 섭섭하잖아, [You’re not sad, though],” you softly say, eyes now tracing the glow of the crescent moon. 

Jeonghan shifts in his seat, questioning your words. ”What? Why would you say that?”

“아니야, [No,] forget it.” You sigh, eyes falling to your hands again. Picking at a hangnail, you inhale deeply. 

“Why wouldn’t I be sad? I love talking to you.” He removes his hands from the wheel and gear shift, then reaches out for yours.

You flinch, and he freezes. 

“Hey, did I… do something wrong?” His voice shakes, suddenly sounding strained. It’s the complete opposite of how he was just three seconds ago.

You swallow thickly. No, he didn’t do anything wrong. “아니, [No,] it’s my fault.”

He frowns. “What did I do? Please, tell me. I’m sorry, whatever it is, I can fix it, I promise.” He looks at you so earnestly, your heart sinks. 

“그건 불가능해, 정한아. [That’s not possible, Jeonghan.]” The words come out slowly and breathily, as if it’s taken you half of your life force to say them. You stare out the window again, this time at the stars, and add, “We should really get back, now. Why’d you stop here, anyway?”

“I figured you didn’t eat yet,” he says carefully. “I thought you’d want to get Thai. When you’re hangry, you yell at the TV more, and I get complaints from my neighbors.”

You blink, turning your attention down to the stores lining the street rather than the night sky. Jeonghan really had driven to your favorite Thai restaurant. “Oh. I didn’t know I did that, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replies softly. “I never liked my neighbors anyway.”

Your eyes close, remembering when one of your classmates, who happened to be his neighbor, confessed to him. He had vented to you about friends needing to understand when not to cross lines. The memory makes you smile weakly again, acknowledging how strong you’ve been for managing not to confess so far. 

Jeonghan continues, “But hey, your neighbors don’t like me, either. Remember when they banged on your door because we were singing too loud?”

You laugh this time, and it’s fleeting but it’s not forced. “언제 쯤 얘기야? [How long ago was that?] That was like two years ago.”

Jeonghan smiles. “You were wearing those teddy bear pajama pants, and I had my Cookie Monster pants on. They were like 70, and told us to stop being childish and grow up.”

“Maybe they had a point,” you say with a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that you paid attention to those things,” you add offhandedly. 

“Pay attention to what?”

“You know, just… the stuff I wear, the random shit I do,” you say, picking at your split ends. 

Jeonghan’s wide eyes narrow, and you feel too hot under his intense gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, voice deep and tinged with something you can’t quite put a finger on. The question feels strangely charged. With what, you don’t know. 

You gnaw on your lip. 

“Answer me. Why shouldn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, feeling put on the spot. “I’m just your friend. Shouldn’t you be spending your energy remembering weird stuff about a girlfriend? Like a serious romantic partner, or something?”

Jeonghan groans, running a hand through his hair, before it comes down on the console with a light thud. Your eyes widen at his unexpected physical display of emotion, taking in his clenched fists and heaving chest. 

“하니? [Hannie?]” you say softly, concerned. He doesn’t normally resort to physical exertions when frustrated, probably because he doesn’t get frustrated very often at all.

Your hand reaches out to his right bicep, where you rub the muscle soothingly. 

“Now you’re calling me 하니 [Hannie] again,” he says with a marginally more relieved, deep sigh. 

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Now you’re calling me 하니 [Hannie] again,” he repeats. “Please, don’t call me 정한 [Jeonghan]. Only 하니 [Hannie].”

“Okay?” you say tentatively, unsure where this is going.

“You know I love you, right?” he says suddenly, staring at his hands. 

You blink rapidly. “Of course. I love you, too.” He’s your best friend, but you’re probably not his best friend. 

Jeonghan jolts, looking at you directly in the eyes now. “You know I love you more, right?”

He looks a bit crazed like this, his frantic chocolate brown eyes searching deeply for something in your face. At a loss for words, you gape your mouth at him like a fish out of water. 

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” you manage to say. “I bet I love you a lot more.” 

The statement is accompanied by a rather self-deprecating laugh from you, the kind that digs deep into your heart even as you try your best to seem casual. 

“No, no,” he says, reaching with his left hand to grasp the hand you’ve been patting his right bicep with. This time, you don’t pull away. “You don’t get it. I love you.” 

What?

Your heartbeat begins to beat so loudly that the sound of it pumping overwhelms your thoughts. Your chest tightens, and you’re half-sure that you just hallucinated it.

“뭐라고? [What did you just say?]”

“사랑한다고, [That I love you,]” he chokes out, his voice thick with the one emotion you’ve been dreaming of him reciprocating. 

You gasp.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Oh.

Crestfallen, your heart drops. You pull your hand away from him. 

This must be his new way to get you to relieve your “anger.” He doesn’t actually love you romantically, he just wants you to go back to acting like you normally do. He’ll never feel the same way that you do, in the crushing way that drives you insane every day, in the way that—

“설마, 나를 지금 무시하는 거야? [No way, are you ignoring me right now?]” Jeonghan’s wounded gaze strikes you like lightning. “아니면, 나를 못 믿는거야? [Or, are you not believing me?]”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. 

Is this real? A dream, maybe? The real Jeonghan would never say this. He would never, ever entertain the idea that you could ever be more than—

“내가 사랑한다고 했는데, 왜 아무 말이 없어? [I just said I love you, why won’t you say anything?]” Jeonghan’s voice quakes, and you’re taken aback by his pained, strained eyebrows and glittering eyes. 

Jeonghan’s eyes well with tears. He swallows thickly, “나… 아니야? [Am I… not it for you?]”

Your breath catches. He’s crying. Yoon Jeonghan—Yoon Jeonghan is crying? You’ve never even seen him sad, let alone crying. He’s always been untouchable, effortless in the way he teases and flirts with you, so sure of himself. So nonchalant and casual with his affection, that you’d always thought he never truly meant anything by it. But here he is, raw and vulnerable in front of you, holding his heart out with both hands—eyes rimmed red, voice breaking, mouth trembling. All because of you? 

He really means it, huh? The realization slams into you so hard you feel like you can’t breathe, let alone speak, your chest constricting like you’re having a heart attack. All those lingering touches, all these years. The way he’s always made you the center of his jokes, how he has the softest shifts in his voice when someone mentions your name—it wasn’t all a game to him? It was never just practice for someone else, for someone better? 

It was love?

God, you had been so overwhelmed with self doubt and insecurity that you’d convinced yourself that you had no chance, all while he was giving you clues through his proud affections, every day.

The man in question looks at you like you’ve just shattered his fragile heart, tears fully trailing down to his chin, now.

Feeling like your entire body has been engulfed in flames, you reach a trembling hand out past the gear shift. It trembles despite yourself as your arm extends to caress his cheek, where you carefully rub his tears away. 

Jeonghan shudders when your hand touches him, and he shuts his eyes. More tears fall.

“하니, [Hannie],” you breathe shallowly, still feeling an immense pressure in your chest. “Look at me.” When he doesn’t open his eyes, you swallow roughly. “하니, [Hannie], please?”

Stubbornly, Jeonghan keeps his eyes closed, and you shakily sigh. You want to tell him—no, you need to tell him that you love him with every fiber of your being, but you need to see his eyes to register whether he understands you. He needs to open those beautiful, brown eyes of his. 

You’ve never told him that you love him in Korean before. Something about it always felt too intimate, while “I love you” in English felt less charged. But you think he needs to hear it now.

Withdrawing your hand from his cheek, you unbuckle your seatbelt at last. Finally freed, you shift your legs until you're sitting on the back of your calves, facing the stunning, devastated man in the driver’s seat.

“하니야, [Hannie],” you say softly, his name a prayer on your lips, your face coming near his. 

You raise your hands up to tenderly brush the tears away from the soft tissue right under his eyes. Trembling, your right hand brushes a strand of hair out of his face, then rests on the back of his neck. 

Heart threatening to jump out of your chest, you hesitantly move closer, and closer, until your lips gently meet his forehead in a kiss so light, you foolishly wonder if he even feels your lips there at all.

“하니야, 사랑해. [Hannie, I love you.]” 

Jeonghan stills immediately. You can feel his hot breath catch against your neck, and you feel a shiver come down your spine. 

“I don’t want anyone else. Just you,” you say choppily, each word spilling out before you can think about what you really just said. 

When you retreat an inch or two back from his forehead, you can see that he has finally opened his eyes. 

“You mean it?” he asks, voice high-pitched in disbelief. 

Not trusting your voice, you nod three times. 

“Say it again,” he begs, his red-rimmed eyes downturned.

“사랑해, 하니야 [I love you, Hannie]. I tried so hard not to. 내 마음을 접고 다른 사람을 바라보고 싶었어. 싶었는데… [I wanted to let go of my feelings for you and search for someone else. That’s what I wanted, but…]”

Jeonghan inhales sharply. Distressed, his Adam's apple bobs up and down. Your heart aches at the sight of him so exposed, and your thumb moves to rub soothing circles by his collarbone. 

You assure him, “근데 그게 진짜 그냥 안 된거야. 도저히 너를 포기할 수 없었어. [But that really just didn’t work. There was no way I could bring myself to give you up.]”

Your fingers close to his neck, you feel Jeonghan’s pulse racing. Trying to help his heart settle down, you press another light kiss to his forehead, cradling the back of his head with your other hand. His breath shudders against your cheek. 

“마음이 하니한테 만 끌리니까, 뭐… 포기하려고 노력을 했는데 소용이 없었어. [My heart was only drawn to you, Hannie, and well… no matter how hard I tried to give you up, it was no use.]”

Jeonghan blinks up at you with watery eyes. 

“You’re it for me, 하니 [Hannie]. Okay?” Sheepish, you feel a bit embarrassed at having been so honest. 

Now that you’ve bared your heart and soul to him, you take the opportunity to really look at him, since you were distracted with telling your part for the past few minutes—and, oh. 

His pupils are so dilated, his eyes look almost black. His breathing has slowed down compared to earlier, but his fists are still clenched, like he’s holding something back. 

In a low voice, so deep that it wouldn’t have been audible if you weren’t practically pressed against him, Jeonghan finally responds to your confession. 

“You love me,” he says hesitantly, like he’s asking to confirm. 

The corners up your lip turn up, and he grins. “You love me,” he says again, only louder this time, and then he’s leaning forward into you. 

His hands find you first, clinging to your neck and waist sweetly yet firmly, like he’s afraid to let you go now that he finally has you.

When his lips meet yours, you melt into the kiss. His lips are warm, softer than you expected, moving against yours with an aching tenderness. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you in like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs down your spine when his thumb brushes along the curve of your jaw. The touch is so careful, so reverent, like he’s memorizing every part of you.

Then, he pulls back just an inch—just enough for his breath to fan across your lips, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes, dark and unreadable, search yours as if needing confirmation.

"You love me? 진심이지? [You’re serious, right?]" His voice is barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens at the sheer vulnerability in his expression. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his damp skin, and nod. "사랑해, 하니야. [I love you, Hannie.] 진짜, [Really,] I always have."

A sound escapes him—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of relief—before he leans in again, kissing you with more urgency this time. His hands tangle into your hair, fingers curling at the nape of your neck as he presses you impossibly closer. The kiss is deeper now, more certain. He parts his lips slightly, and you do the same, the heat between you growing into something undeniable.

Your hands wander—one slipping into his hair, the other trailing down his shoulder. He shudders under your touch, and you feel the tension slowly unraveling from his body, like he’s finally letting himself believe this is real.

When you finally part for air, he lets out a shaky laugh, thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips. "You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this," he murmurs, his voice husky.

Your heart swells at the confession. "Actually, I think I do," you whisper back before pulling him into another kiss, this time knowing—without a doubt—that neither of you are going anywhere.

────୨ৎ──── 

“하니, [Hannie,]” you say, leaning against him on the sofa in your apartment, drawing random shapes on his chest with your right hand. “We should go on a drive again.”

“Mm, a drive?” he says, distracted by his fascination with observing your left hand, holding it like a precious gem. 

“Yeah, 바람 좀 새자 [let’s get some air]. A night drive.”

His hands stall, lips curling up at the corners. “Oh, a night drive, huh? 역사적인 거네. [How historic.]”

You bury your face in his chest. “Mmh,” you say to his shirt.

“You know, you said 사랑해 [I love you] to me for the first time on a night drive,” he says casually. His hands let go of your left hand, then make their way to your head, patting your hair gently. 

You prop your chin up on his stomach, expecting to see Jeonghan’s pure smile. But instead, he’s smirking at you. 

“You wanted me so bad.” He sighs dramatically. “What else could I do, but accept your love?”

You can’t help but smile. “I think you’re misremembering things a little, 하니 [Hannie].”

“Oh, am I?” he gasps, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. 

If he were anyone else, he’d look stupid feigning ignorance. Fortunately for you, though, he isn’t anyone else—he’s the love of your life, and he makes everything look good. 

“Ugh,” you say, eyes shining. “You look dumb, stop it.”

“You love it,” he says cheekily, arms falling from your head to wrap around you in a big hug. 

“Mmfph,” you say in response, relishing in the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Not denying it, I see,” he says. “Overwhelmed by your love for me, you dove at my poor, innocent self in the car, kissing me all over!”

“Pfft,” you laugh. “No, that was you!”

“No,” Jeonghan pouts.

“I happen to remember a little crybaby confessing first,” you say with an upside down smile, hugging him tighter.

Jeonghan’s eyes look up at the ceiling. “무슨 말인지… [I don’t know what you’re talking about…]”

“야아! [Hey!]” your hand slaps his chest lightly. “나 좀 봐봐, 음? [Look at me, hmm?]”

“싫은데? [Don’t wanna,]” he says, pouting. 

“사랑해도 안 볼 거야? 섭섭하네… [Even if I love you, you won’t look at me? I’m sad…]” you huff, burying your face into the sofa pillows instead of Jeonghan’s chest. “하니가 안 사랑해주면 난 갈 거야. [If you don’t love me I’m gonna leave.]”

Jeonghan laughs, “가긴 어딜가, 여기 너네 집이잖아. [Leave? What do you mean, leave? This is your house.]” 

Jeonghan hugs you tighter, then suddenly sits up, taking you with him. 

“사랑해, [I love you,]” he says earnestly, staring deeply into your eyes, as if he wants to dive into the depths of your iris. Your name leaves his lips fervently, like a prayer.

“사랑해, 하니야, [I love you, Hannie,]” you say back, and you mean it. 

Because Yoon Jeonghan is simultaneously the funniest, weirdest, kindest, most devastatingly handsome man you’ve ever met. And he’s yours.

Masterlist

Author's Note: here’s a big literary hug <3

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

“Aigoo, my good baby~” Joshua sing-songed, gently sitting Haeun down on the bed before unwrapping the towel around her and patting her body dry.

It was never easy to bathe Haeun before a nap. Especially with her chaotic energy. But Joshua, her lovely father, knew how to make things work.

“Let papa dress you up nicely, then we'll cuddle to sleep, hm?”

He smiled down at the little baby, his eyes scrunching so adorably, that even the toddler had to pause for a second to stare at her father and admire him. But, again, she was Haeun—your most adorable, but always energetic baby.

Haeun lightly smacked her father’s cheek, causing him to wince in surprise as his eyes went wide.

“Baby!” He tried to sound strict, but the sight of the toddler laughing so endearingly, it immediately had Joshua grinning as his nose scrunched up.

“Baby..” Joshua chuckled, gently pulling Haeun closer so he could apply baby moisturizer on her skin. “Enough playing, lovie, let's not waste time. You want cuddles, right?” Tilting his head, he gently ran his fingers through her hair, and Haeun nodded like she could understand him well.

Joshua giggled at that, slowly massaging her tiny arms and then feet. “You only understand cuddling, don't you?” He pecked Haeun’s small palm, earning a shy giggle from her.

Now, it came to dressing the toddler up, and with the way Haeun was running here and there on the bed—it seemed impossible. But, it was worth a try!

“Baby, come here!” Joshua called out, stretching out his arms for Haeun, while she started to jump on the bed.

Panicked as ever, he quickly hovered over the bed and picked her up in a hasty manner, making the toddler squeal.

“Haeun! You'll hurt yourself—”

As soon as he laid her down, she swung her foot at his chest forcefully. It seemed like she had used all the power she was saving up, because Joshua let out a loud groan as he grimaced.

Ouch.

“Haeun-ah…” He pouted and put a hand over his chest, wincing in pain, while Haeun giggled at her father’s state. A sigh escaped Joshua, as he finally gave up and plopped down his head on the bed in defeat.

Haeun tapped her tiny hands on her father’s head as she tried to call out to him.

“Papa is tired, lovie…” he spoke in a low, whiny voice and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.

As the clock finally hit 1PM, you were in the comfort of your home again. It was Sunday, so you wanted to go shopping since Joshua had a day off from practice too. But you didn't know it would take this long.

“Haeun-ah, mom’s home!” You call out from the entrance as you kick off your shoes and head to the living room. Hearing no noises or sounds, a quick sense of dread took over you, but it was quickly replaced by relief when the sound of soft breathing coming from the bedroom filled the dead silence.

Taking slow and gentle steps towards your shared bedroom, you peek through the door and your heart melts at the sight—your lovely husband and your lovely daughter sleeping soundly beside each other.

Haeun only wore a diaper and a top, but the warmth from Joshua’s embrace was enough to keep her warm. His forearm rested behind Haeun’s small body, his hand on her head and his other arm laid on the bed as Haeun used his biceps like a pillow. Held her so gently, careful even in his sleep.

Your smile reached your eyes as you got closer to those two adorable beings sleeping peacefully.

“Shua, baby,” Careful not to startle him, you softly call out. He shifted a little, his eyes gradually opening and he felt himself smiling as soon as he figured out your voice.

“Love..” Joshua’s voice was groggy but comfortingly gentle. He reached out to rub his eyes before he felt a light weight on his right bicep. Turning to take a look, his smile widened, a suppressed laugh leaving him.

His little baby was resting so peacefully. Her hair was messy, probably from shifting in his warm embrace, and she seemed so comfortable and calm, knowing Joshua was by her side.

He turned his attention to you, slowly lifting himself up and scooping up Haeun in his arms.

“You got home just now?” Joshua asked, reaching out one of his hands to hold yours. You sat beside him, caressing Haeun’s head with a smile as you nod.

“Were you tired?” You ask, now resting your hand on Joshua's head, and he scooted closer to you, seeking warmth.

He nodded, jutting out his lips in a pout that made him look adorable. Especially with that messy hair.

You giggle, leaning forward to peck his cheek, making him grin (◠‿◠)

Gently taking Haeun in your arms, you and Joshua look at each other with slightly widened eyes—your little babygirl was holding onto her father’s hand, that was, again, twice the size of her tiny hand.

Joshua let out a hushed laugh, wrapping his other arm around your waist as he snuggled to your side, his cheek squishing against your shoulder.

“She's so cute,” he whispered. “Just like you.”

Your smile widens at his comment. Even after so many years, Hong Joshua never misses the chance to make you blush.

“You never know, I’ve seen it happen before.” 

“Fine. I’ll move out then,” you said, quickly destroying your bed and leaving the house. You weren’t even bothered enough to take anything from your chests.

The two of you continued playing in silence for a few minutes. It’s not like you were actually mad or anything… but it was fun to start a meaningless fight with Wonwoo. 

In the meantime, you explored the surrounding biomes in hopes of finding a suitable place to make a new house. Well, more like a camp. (Your house was way too pretty for you to simply abandon.)

After a few more minutes of silence, Wonwoo began to message you in the game.

[gam3bo1: where are you :(]

[gam3bo1: i miss youuuuu]

[gam3bo1: answer me!]

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, turning to look at you from his monitor, eyes filled with faux innocence.

You scoffed. “Oh, no. Not at all. I just love how you’re completely ignoring the fact that I built a whole house for you, and yet, you insist on staying in my house!”

Wonwoo let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, it's not my fault my house feels so… lonely.” 

You rolled your eyes as he spoke, but he didn’t stop there. Who would’ve known that he was going to be this pouty.

“Look, our babies miss you too.” He waved you down to look over at his screen.

To your disappointment, curiosity got the better of you. “This better be–” Your voice cut off at the sight of your pets. 

All of your in-game pets–the dogs, cats, and even the random parrot you found in a jungle biome a few weeks back–were all sitting obediently inside your home. Wonwoo had conveniently placed them all in front of his bed, having them turned to look at the empty space–where your bed used to be. 

You narrowed your eyes upon realizing the little stunt he was trying to pull on you. “You’re trying to manipulate me into going back home!”

Wonwoo gasped. “I would never do such a thing!”

After a few moments of pure laughter, you finally gave in. You could never stay mad at him for too long. 

“...Fine, I’ll come back.” You huffed out, finally turning back to your monitor and making your way back home.

As you neared your house, something new caught your eye.

Behind your house, was a small, heart-shaped garden. The ground was tiled in a red-and-pink checkered pattern, carefully placed block by block. Peonies and roses filled the garden’s corners, their colors nicely decorating the huge heart in the middle. In front of the heart sat a small seating area just for the two of you.

“Oh.”

“I made it while you were ignoring me,” Wonwoo said, his voice suddenly next to your ear.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard. It was… annoyingly cute.

You continued to move around, stepping onto the checkered flooring and admiring the little details he had placed all around. It was cute.

“...You built me a garden?” you asked softly.

Wonwoo hummed. “I might have had help from a few tutorials, but yeah. I wanted to make a spot for us.” 

And unsurprisingly, your stomach did an embarrassing flip.

Wonwoo went back over to his desk, quickly moving his player to sit on one of the chairs in the garden. Following him, you sat down in the chair in front of him, and before you could even say anything he beat you to it.

“I just thought our shared house could use a little extra love. You know, since we obviously live together.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as Wonwoo laughed triumphantly beside you. He just had to ruin the moment! 

“Now c’mon, let’s go to bed,” he said as he pressed ‘Save and Exit’. By the time you reached the main menu, Wonwoo was already pulling you away from your desk.

“I’m never building you anything ever again,” you muttered, body betraying you as you leaned into him on your shared bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And yet you still let me sleep next to you.” 

Heavy footsteps echo through the house at midnight as you trudge toward your bedroom. Another gruelling day at work has come to an end, and once again, you’ve had to work overtime. Work is consuming your life, leaving you feeling completely burnt out. Just until you get the promotion, you keep reminding yourself—a promotion that’ll benefit both you and your fae husband, Minghao.

Minghao, who, surprisingly, is still awake, is waiting for you in bed. Too exhausted to say a word, you offer him a tired smile before changing into your pyjamas and slipping under the covers. The moment your head hits the pillow, you’re out cold—but not before feeling the faintest brush of his lips against your cheek.

The next morning, you wake before dawn, having barely managed five hours of sleep. Minghao lies fast asleep beside you, his face peaceful in the early light. Careful not to disturb him, you tiptoe through your morning routine as quietly as possible. Before leaving, you lean down to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Darling?" He mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep. He stirs slightly but doesn’t open his eyes.

You shush him gently. "Go back to sleep," you whisper.

"Where are you going?" He murmurs drowsily, his words slow and slurred.

"Work. I’ve got leftover work from yesterday," you reply softly.

"But it’s so early…and the bed is so cold without you," he says with a small pout, his voice barely above a whisper.

Guilt pricks at your chest. His words weigh on you as you frown. "I’m sorry, my love. Work calls," you say, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

He sighs, turning away from you as he pulls the blanket up to his face. "Mmm… okay," he murmurs, his voice tinged with disappointment.

The ache in your heart grows as you watch him curl up under the covers, alone. With a heavy heart, you leave for work, the memory of his pout lingering in your mind as you step out the door, leaving him cold and alone in bed.

Sighing, you blink wearily and rub the sleep from your eyes. 11:47 PM. At least I’m home before midnight, you think, a hollow chuckle escaping your lips.

Your brows knit together when you hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen. Curious, you shuffle toward the source and find your husband busy preparing food.

"Love? What are you doing?" You croak, your voice hoarse from the endless meetings and presentations of the day.

"Darling! You’re back!" His eyes light up as he notices you. In an instant, he crosses the room and wraps you in a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"What are you making at this hour?" You ask, still trying to make sense of why he’s cooking so late.

"I made you dinner," he says with a soft smile. "I know you haven’t been eating well because of work, so I thought I’d prepare something light for you to eat before bed."

"Hao, I’m not hungry," you mumble, the thought of eating feeling impossible in your current state of exhaustion.

He pouts, taking your hands in his and gazing into your tired eyes.

"Just one bite, please?" He murmurs, his voice tinged with gentle pleading.

"Hao, I’m too tired. I just want to sleep," you sigh, your body screaming for rest.

His shoulders slump at your response, and his smile falters, replaced by a tight-lipped expression. He nods, pressing his lips together as if to hold back his disappointment.

"Okay," he says softly. "Let me clean up, and I’ll join you soon." He leans in to kiss your cheek, his touch filled with quiet understanding.

You nod, muttering a quiet "thank you" before heading to the bedroom. The weight of the day pulls you down, and all you want is to slip under the covers and let sleep consume you.

Waking up at 4 AM after only two hours of sleep might just be one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. At that point, two hours doesn’t even count as sleep—it’s more like a glorified nap.

Groaning, you drag yourself out of bed despite every fibre of your body screaming to lie back down. Your limbs feel impossibly heavy, and even the smallest movement seems like a monumental effort.

After trudging through your morning routine, you head to the kitchen to make yourself a much-needed cup of coffee. There’s no way you’ll survive the day without it. As you reach for the cupboard to grab a mug, your brows knit together. The door swings open smoothly without the usual resistance. You normally have to tug it open with a bit of force, but today it’s oddly cooperative. Shrugging it off as a minor anomaly, you finish making your coffee.

Sitting at the dining table with your steaming mug in hand, you’re startled to see your laptop and work bag already laid out in front of you. You distinctly remember tossing your bag somewhere—where exactly, you couldn’t say—in the haze of exhaustion when you got home last night. Did you put them here without realising it? Maybe. It’s too early to overthink. Shaking your head, you take a sip of coffee, bracing yourself for the long day ahead.

As you glance over at the table, something catches your eye: a coaster sitting neatly beside your laptop. Curious, you pick it up, turning it over in your hands. You don’t remember seeing it before. Is it new? Or maybe it’s something you bought ages ago and forgot about? Either way, the design is undeniably cute and completely your style. A small smile tugs at your lips as the little coaster lifts your sour mood ever so slightly.

Placing the coaster back down, you set your coffee cup on it, your gaze lingering for a moment to admire its charm. It’s such a small thing, but it makes you feel just a bit lighter.

Turning your attention to your laptop, you open it and prepare to tackle a few emails before heading out. Somehow, thanks to the unexpected little discovery, you feel a tiny spark of energy—the first of the day.

As you step into your home at an ungodly hour, you’re greeted by a soft, warm glow coming from the living room. Confused, you head in that direction and find Minghao fast asleep on the couch, the dim light of a single lamp casting a gentle glow over the room.

Your heart clenches at the sight. He must have been waiting for you to come home and dozed off while waiting. His messy brown hair only enhances his already ethereal features, making him look even more otherworldly. His lips are slightly pursed in a soft pout, and one hand rests beside him, curled loosely into a fist.

Frowning as guilt weighs heavy on your heart; you quietly head to the bedroom to grab a blanket for Minghao. You don’t want to wake him or move him to the bed; he looks too peaceful to disturb. Returning with a fluffy blanket in hand, you gently drape it over him. Kneeling beside him, you softly pat his head and press a tender kiss to the crown of his hair.

As you stand, your knee accidentally bumps into something on the coffee table, knocking it over. Startled, you take a step back—only to step directly on the object, breaking it with a sharp crack. You cringe at the sound, freezing in place, and immediately cover your mouth to stifle any noise that might escape. The last thing you want is to wake Minghao.

With a quiet sigh of defeat, you step away from the mess, deciding it’s a problem for your future self. Right now, you’re far too exhausted to deal with it.

By some miracle, you managed to finish work early today. A smile spreads across your face as you step into your house just as the sun sets. For the first time in weeks, you’re home early enough to see the sun from your own window.

Excited to finally spend time with Minghao, you giggle softly as you begin searching for him. You find him in the study, engrossed in a book. Pausing at the doorway, you take a moment to admire him. The golden hues of the sunset stream through the window, bathing him in a warm glow. His deep brown eyes shimmer like honey under the light, sparkling with a quiet intensity. The soft shadows highlight his ethereal features, making him look like a painting brought to life. Even after all these years of marriage, you can’t help but fall for him all over again.

"Surprise!" You exclaim, giggling as you step into the room, startling Minghao.

You wait for him to mirror your joy, but instead, he sighs softly and returns to his book, his expression unchanged.

What?

"Love?" You ask, your smile fading as your shoulders drop. All the excitement you felt earlier evaporates in an instant.

But he doesn’t answer. The silence feels heavier than it should. Frowning, you walk toward him and stand in front of him.

"Love? What’s wrong?" You whisper, your chest tightening as he continues to ignore you.

Instead of replying, Minghao sets his book down, stands, and walks past you without a word. Confusion and hurt bubble up inside you as you quickly follow him to the living room.

You find him kneeling in front of the TV cabinet, tinkering with it. Desperate, you kneel beside him and look at him with pleading eyes.

"Hao, what’s wrong? Please, talk to me," you murmur, tears pricking your eyes. The pain of being ignored by him feels unbearable.

But he remains silent, his full attention on the cabinet. You watch helplessly as he works, tightening screws and adjusting the hinges. After a few minutes, he finishes and opens and closes the cabinet door, testing his handiwork. That’s when you realise—it doesn’t squeak anymore.

Oh.

The realisation dawns on you. The fixed cabinet, the dinner he made for you, the coaster you found, your bag being neatly placed on the table—all the little things Minghao has been doing to care for you flash through your mind. And all you’ve done in return is neglect him.

Your eyes fall to the broken item beside the coffee table, and your heart sinks. The thing you stepped on and shattered last night—it was a bird feeder. A bird feeder Minghao had lovingly built for you.

Minghao knows how much you love watching birds, and he made it just for you. And you broke it. Breaking something a fae has created isn’t just about damage—it’s a symbol of rejection, a sign that you harbour ill will or a grudge against them.

Your chest tightens as guilt washes over you like a tidal wave. Tears blur your vision as you bite your bottom lip, struggling to breathe through the heaviness pressing on your heart. You’ve been hurting Minghao in ways you hadn’t even realised.

You open your mouth to speak, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Minghao rises to his feet without a glance in your direction and walks away, leaving you kneeling on the floor, choking on the weight of your guilt.

You watch as he disappears into the bedroom, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in your ears. Alone in the living room, you’re left to sit with your regret, drowning in the realisation of how deeply you’ve hurt the one you love.

Determined to win back Minghao and show him how sorry you are, you start coming home early and even take a few days off work. What’s the point of chasing a promotion when all it’s done is damage the most important relationship in your life?

You try to spend more time with him, but every time you enter a room he’s in, he quietly leaves, forcing you to trail after him like a lost puppy. You thank him for the little things he’s done for you, hoping to start a conversation, but he only responds with silence. Still, your determination doesn’t waver. You’re committed to earning back his love, no matter what.

That’s when an idea strikes—you’ll rebuild the broken bird feeder. You may not be as skilled as Minghao when it comes to crafting, but if it means he’ll talk to you again, then you’ll give it your all.

You head to the backyard and gather leaves, stones, and sticks, searching for the prettiest ones you can find. If you’re going to fix the bird feeder, it has to look perfect.

Once you’ve collected everything, you sit in the living room, placing the broken pieces of the bird feeder and your gathered materials on the coffee table. With a deep breath, you start rebuilding it—or at least, you try. Unfortunately, craftsmanship isn’t exactly your strong suit, and your attempts quickly fall apart.

You frown as the bird feeder collapses for what feels like the hundredth time. Frustration gnaws at you, but before you can give up, you notice Minghao standing at the edge of the living room, watching you silently.

You look up at him, your eyes filled with longing as you give him a small pout, silently pleading for him to come back to you. But he only furrows his brows and turns away, leaving without a word.

The ache in your chest grows as you stare down at the broken bird feeder, its shattered state mirroring your heart. A few stray tears escape, and you quickly wipe them away.

Taking a deep breath, you scowl in determination. Giving up isn’t an option—not when it comes to Minghao. You pick up the pieces once more and get back to work. No matter how many times it takes, you’ll rebuild this bird feeder. You’ll earn his forgiveness. You’ll win him back. You’ll make sure of it.

After days of effort and what feels like hundreds of failed attempts, the bird feeder remains just as broken as when you started. Frustrated, you conclude that the materials you’ve gathered aren’t good enough—or maybe it’s just your complete lack of crafting skills. Either way, you decide to head back to the backyard to search for better supplies.

As you’re collecting sticks and stones, your eyes land on a particularly beautiful leaf perched high up in a nearby tree. That’s the perfect leaf, you think, instantly deciding that it must go on your bird feeder.

The only problem? The leaf is far out of reach, and the only way to get it is by climbing the tree. It’s been years since you last climbed a tree—probably not since you were five—but you convince yourself that muscle memory will take over once you start.

You grab hold of the trunk and begin your ascent. Wobbly and slow, you inch your way upward, clinging tightly to the tree. You’re about halfway up when your foot slips. Before you know it, you’re plummeting down, a sharp scream escaping your lips as you hit the ground with a painful thud.

Dazed and aching, you try to push yourself up, but the moment your right hand touches the ground, a sharp pain shoots through your wrist, forcing a cry of pain from your lips. Realising you’ve sprained it, you clutch your injured hand to your chest, tears streaming down your face.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of rapid footsteps. Looking up, you see Minghao running toward you, his expression filled with concern. Without a word, he kneels down and gently takes your hand, inspecting the injury with careful fingers.

"Thank god it’s just a sprain," he mutters, relief washing over his features. Then, before you can protest, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you inside.

In your bedroom, he sets you down gently on the bed and retrieves the first aid kit from the cupboard. You watch as he carefully tends to your wrist, his movements tender and precise, and for the first time in days, you feel the walls between you begin to crack.

"What happened?" Minghao murmurs as he continues to carefully tend to your injured wrist, his hands gentle but precise.

"I was trying to gather more materials to rebuild the bird feeder," you admit, pouting slightly. "I saw this really pretty leaf in the tree, and I thought it’d be perfect. So I climbed up to get it, but…I slipped and fell."

Minghao’s expression hardens, a scowl settling on his face as he looks at you. "You climbed a tree for a leaf? Darling, do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You’re lucky it’s just a sprained wrist. What if you’d hurt yourself even worse?" He scolds, his tone sharp with worry.

But instead of feeling chastised, you smile, your expression softening.

His scolding trails off, and he blinks at you, confused. "Why are you smiling?" He asks, furrowing his brows.

"You’re finally talking to me again," you say quietly, your voice full of relief.

Minghao freezes, the weight of your words sinking in. Guilt flashes across his face as he realises the pain he’s caused. He closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath before opening them again.

Gently, he cups your face, his thumb brushing away the remnants of dried tears. "Darling," he begins, his voice thick with emotion, "I’m so sorry. Ignoring you like that was wrong—terribly wrong. I never should’ve weaponised my affection and made you feel like you had to prove yourself to me. You didn’t have to. I still love you, always. I was just…frustrated. I felt neglected because we hadn’t spent much time together, and seeing the bird feeder broken—it hurt more than I expected. But none of that excuses how I treated you."

Your pout deepens as tears gather in your eyes. "I’m sorry too, my love," you whisper. "I didn’t mean to neglect you or everything you’ve done for me. I thought I was working toward a better future for us, but I didn’t realise I was hurting our present. And breaking the bird feeder—I’m so sorry, Hao. It was an accident. I never meant to."

Minghao’s features soften, and his thumb gently caresses your cheek. "It’s okay, my darling," he says, his tone tender. "You were doing what you thought was best for us. Just please, don’t neglect me again. And I promise, I’ll never ignore you again either."

A smile blooms across your face as you nod. "I promise," you say, your voice steady. "And I forgive you too."

You lean in, pressing a loving kiss to his lips, and he reciprocates with a soft smile. The kiss is full of forgiveness, understanding, and love. When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest against each other as you gaze into his eyes, a peaceful silence settling between you.

"How about we rebuild the bird feeder together?" you whisper.

Minghao chuckles softly and presses a light kiss to your lips. "I’d love that," he whispers back.

After rebuilding the bird feeder—which mostly consisted of Minghao doing all the work while you sat nearby, occasionally handing him tools—it was finally ready to be placed in your backyard.

Once Minghao set it up, he walked back to where you were standing, keeping a safe distance from the feeder so as not to disturb the birds. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you close, making you giggle as you instinctively snuggled into his embrace.

After a few minutes, the birds began to arrive, fluttering down to settle at the feeder. You let out a soft squeal of delight, your eyes sparkling as you watched the different birds come and go. Your heart felt light, giddy with excitement.

Minghao’s gaze wasn’t on the birds—it was on you. Watching the joy on your face, he felt his own heart swell with contentment. Happy to have you back in his arms, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

You giggled, turning to face him before leaning in to press your lips against his. The kiss was soft and tender, a quiet reminder of your love and resilience. Despite the ups and downs, you knew that as long as Minghao was by your side, you could overcome anything.

As you pulled away, your gaze lingered on him, and your heart swelled with gratitude. Silently, you thanked the heavens for bringing Minghao into your life.