j love club

jay ⁑

jay carries guilt in a very heavy, quiet way. he’s prideful, but he’s also deeply emotional underneath that, and knowing he hurt you — that he made you feel unsafe in your own relationship — makes him feel sick. he apologized already, sincerely, but he can sense your distance. the way you hesitate to meet his eyes, the way you no longer instinctively reach for his hand, it all makes his chest ache.

“you don’t trust me anymore,” he says one evening, sitting next to you but not touching, “and that’s my fault.”

he wants to fix it, desperately, but he doesn’t know how. so he becomes gentle in everything; softer words, slower movements, always giving you space. he tries to show you he’s here to stay, even if you can’t believe it yet.

some days, the tension breaks his heart, but he doesn’t push. he understands you’re protecting yourself now. instead, he chooses patience: waiting at the edges of your heart until you let him back in fully. and when you do, even just a little, he never takes it for granted again.

that fight changed him. he never wants to risk losing you like that again.

jake ⁑

jake’s apology was instant and emotional — he probably cried while saying it. he’s the kind of person who speaks from the heart, and when he said he wanted to break up during the fight, it wasn’t because he meant it, it was because he panicked.

now, even after you’ve said you forgive him, he sees that you don’t feel safe yet. you’re more careful, more reserved, like you’re constantly bracing for the next blow. it wrecks him.

he becomes overly cautious, overcompensating by constantly checking in: “are you okay?” “did i say something wrong?” “do you still love me?” he can’t stand the thought of being the reason you’re anxious. it makes him cling more; holding your hand tightly, watching your face for reactions, blurting out “i love you” at random times like he’s afraid you’ll forget.

when you finally tell him how you're walking on eggshells now, he breaks down a little. “i’ll never say anything like that again. i swear. i’m so sorry, angel.” he means it with everything in him.

from then on, he becomes extra mindful with his words, determined to never make you feel unloved or unwanted ever again.

sung ⁑ hoon

sunghoon’s first instinct is to withdraw when he notices your shift. he’s always been a little awkward when it comes to emotions, and now he’s overthinking every word he says, worried he’ll trigger something again.

he thought apologizing would be enough, but now he realizes how deep his words cut. it hits him when you flinch slightly at his raised voice — not even at you, just at the tv. he stops, mid-sentence, turning toward you with wide eyes.

“do you… are you scared of me?” he sounds broken asking it. he doesn’t want to believe he made you feel that way, but he sees the answer in your hesitation.

from then on, he tries in his own quiet way to reassure you — being extra gentle, extra soft-spoken, opening up more than usual. he gives you space, but always stays close enough that you know he’s still here.

he won’t bring it up unless you do, but if you do, he listens carefully, nods, and says, “i deserve that. but please don’t shut me out forever.” he’s not good with grand emotional speeches, but his consistency and soft care say everything you need to hear; he’s not going anywhere.

su ⁑ noo

sunoo is devastated the moment he notices your change in behavior. he’s so emotionally attuned, especially to you, that even the slightest shift in your energy feels like a storm. he’d thought his heartfelt apology fixed things, but now that you're quieter, less bubbly, it eats at him.

he becomes a mix of guilt and nervous affection: constantly checking your expression, doing little things to make you smile, and then overthinking when you don’t react the way you used to. “do you still love me?”

he’ll ask in the most vulnerable voice, tears shimmering in his eyes. he’s not afraid to cry in front of you if it means being honest. when you finally tell him you feel like you’re walking on eggshells, he pulls you into a tight hug and whispers, “you never have to be scared of me. never again.”

he showers you with reassurance — not just with words, but with gentle gestures, unshakable presence, and a love that glows even through your silence. he gives you time, but never lets you feel alone.

your distance hurts him, yes, but not nearly as much as the idea of losing you. so he waits; with open arms, and an open heart.

jung ⁑ won

jungwon takes it the hardest. not just your distance, but the fact that he knows it’s his fault. as the leader, he’s used to fixing things, taking responsibility. so when he sees you become quieter, more careful around him, his self-blame spirals.

he starts tiptoeing around you, second-guessing everything he says, even overcorrecting with excessive sweetness or long silences. he doesn’t know how to approach it at first: he’s still learning how to navigate deep emotional waters, but eventually, he sits beside you, hands on his knees, and says softly, “i hurt you. and now i see that you’re scared of getting hurt again.”

he doesn’t make excuses, doesn’t push you to move on. instead, he says, “i’ll earn your trust back. one day at a time.” from that point on, he becomes the most emotionally available you’ve ever seen him — open, gentle, asking about your comfort constantly.

he doesn’t just want your forgiveness; he wants to rebuild everything from the ground up. every time you hesitate, he slows down. every time you look away, he speaks your name so softly it brings tears to your eyes.

jungwon loves deeply — and now, he’ll prove it in a million little ways until you feel safe again.

ni ⁑ ki

niki’s not the best with emotional vulnerability, especially when he feels guilty. at first, he doesn’t know how to handle your distance. it frustrates him — not at you, but at himself.

he knows he messed up by saying something so reckless in the heat of a fight. his apology was sincere, but now your coldness stings more than he expected. he wants things to go back to normal, but when you flinch away from his touch or smile without warmth, it finally clicks.

“you’re scared i meant it, aren’t you?” he says one day, voice low, eyes unreadable. when you don’t answer, he takes a shaky breath. “i didn’t. i swear, y/n.” niki might be young, but he’s emotionally perceptive, especially when it comes to you.

he starts being more careful; checking in, holding back from teasing too much, just sitting beside you in silence when you’re not ready to talk. he starts expressing himself in actions more than words: cooking something for you, bringing you small gifts, standing outside your door with headphones so you’ll know he’s there even when you don’t want company.

he doesn’t demand closeness. he patiently waits for you to reach for him again.

he looks up. his eyes are warm, but serious. intense, even.

“you drive me insane,” he murmurs. “you leave the shower light on. you forget where your charger is every day. you sing off-key when you think i’m not listening.”

you breathe stops, and before you can muster up a sentence, he says again.

“and i love you like i’m sick with it.”

you feel like your stops, with blood rushing up to your cheeks you really don’t know if you can handle this anymore. his thumb brushes over your knee.

“and if you say dumb shit like that again,” he says, voice low, “i might have to marry you again, just to prove a point.”

you open your mouth, ready to sass him back, but he leans in before you can.

his hand finds your waist, warm and rough from hours of sanding wood. his other hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s mapping it out. like he missed it all day. like he needed this more than food or rest or sanity.

and then he kisses you. not a soft peck. not a tired brush of lips. it’s full. warm. deliberate.

his mouth slides against yours like he’s finally off the clock, like this is his reward — the only thing that makes the bruised knees and splinters and forgotten lunch worth it.

your fingers twist into his shirt instinctively. his thumb brushes down the side of your neck as his lips move against yours with something a little hungry, a little breathless, but still so stupidly in love.

you pull away for air, lips tingling, chest rising in soft, quick breaths. your fingers are still fisted in his shirt, and he looks up at you like you just knocked the wind out of him — which, to be fair, you did.

jay’s lips are red, a little kiss-swollen, and he’s breathing just as hard.

you blink, lips tingling. “so, i guess, you really do love me?”

“i love you when you talk too much,” he continues against your lips, grinning, “and when you ask dumb questions, like if i still love you.”

you let out a tiny gasp, equal parts amused and overwhelmed, and he pulls you even closer, your forehead pressed to his. your hands rest on his shoulders, thumbs brushing the slope of his neck.

“hey,” you whine softly, but he leans forward again and steals another kiss before you can complain further — short, warm, like a punctuation mark.

“i spend three hours building a closet,” he continues, kisses the corner of your mouth, “you sit here looking like a whole heart attack—” another kiss, this time near your chin, “—and then you ask—” kiss “—me—” kiss “—if i—” kiss “love you?” another kiss.

you laugh into his shoulder, hands slipping up into his hair, heart stopping “i just wanted to hear it.”

his lips curl, lazy and crooked. “you’re so annoying,” he mutters

your breath catches as he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing, full of love. “god,” he mutters, eyes still closed, “you drive me insane,” he chuckles again like a reminder.

“you like it,” you whisper, a chuckle falling on your lips.

he smiles, just a little. then, without letting go of you, he sinks to the floor.

kneels. infront of you.

his arms wrap around your waist, cheek pressing softly to your thigh. he exhales against the fabric of your shorts, like being close to you settles everything.

you run your fingers through his hair, slow. comforting. he hums under his breath, content and quiet, letting his body relax against your leg.

“this okay?” he sighs, his lips tickling your skin as he grins on it.

you nod, resting your hand on his cheek. “yeah,” you smile. “more than okay.”

his lashes flutter as he closes his eyes again.

and there you sit, a half-finished vanity in the corner, a husband with sawdust on his arms and love in every touch, and a kiss still tingling on your lips like a promise that never gets old.

your heartbeat is still racing a little. his breaths are slower now. calm. heavy.

“i love you,” he says eventually, voice muffled and slept against your thigh.

you smile. bend forward and kiss the top of his head, “i know. i love you more.”

스루 ܃ uploading this from my college library .. chem i hate you 😞 feedbacks are very much appreciated !

It was a Friday evening. The sun was beginning to set, casting a vibrant peach-orange glow over Jay’s apartment.

With a navy-blue apron hanging loosely from his neck, Jay took in the scent of garlic chives and caramelized onions marinating in the pan. With a spatula, he popped in a lump of gochujang, stirring in the hot, red paste.

If Jay had to be honest, he spent most of his time just touching you, his girlfriend. Not in a sexual way. Any physical touch with you was more than enough. Whether it be cuddling on the couch or you clinging onto him while he did things, the intimacy of having skin-on-skin contact was everything.

On days like this, Jay was the one cooking dinner. Not-so-surprising, you were an absolute mess in the kitchen, so he took on that responsibility. You should be home soon. You had taken up an internship a weeks ago, so you had to stay just a tad later than usual.

As Jay immersed himself in the gorgeous aromas of his craft, he thought of what he should do with you later.

He could watch a movie with you, but knowing you, you would probably be all over him. He never expected you to be the clingy, needy type, doing whatever you could to snuggle up against his warm body. Jay’s lips parted before spreading into a gummy grin. He could imagine your voice:

“Baaabe,” you would whine, plopping yourself in between his legs. You would tangle your arms with his, or maybe you'd place his hands in your hair and make him play with it.

If his eyes were glued to the TV for long enough, you would pout, before peppering soft kisses against his neck. Jay would pretend to ignore you, making you whine again. 

“Give me attention,” you would murmur against his ear. 

Oh man, Jay felt giddy and warm inside just thinking about it. 

What he wouldn’t do just to have you come home already—

The door clicked open.

“I’m home!”

Speak of the devil and you will appear.

Jay heard a few footsteps and a giggle before feeling arms slither around his torso. 

“Hi,” you mumbled against his back. 

Jay grinned. “Hi, Angel.”

You peeked over his shoulder, taking in the scent of his cooking. “Smells good.”

“Go wash up, baby,” Jay said. “I’m almost done.”

“Okayyy,” you squeezed his waist. You gave Jay a small peck on the cheek. You drawled, “I love youuuu!”

Jay hummed. 

He heard you huff. 

“I love you,” you repeated.

“Mhm.”

There’s a pulse of silence before you pulled away, leaving him alone.

When you left, he couldn’t help but smile so stupidly. 

You were going to drive him crazy. 

You were so cute, and adorable, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous, and precious, and everything that he loved. He wanted to hold you in his arms forever and kiss you forever and be with you forever and-

How many kids should you and him have? He’d always wanted two boys and a girl, but he wouldn’t mind having more. Later down the line, when you and him got older, he’d buy you a pretty diamond ring— in fact, he’d buy you everything that you’ve ever wanted. And then you and him will get married and buy a house. Would you take his last name? [Name] Park didn’t sound too bad. People would call you Mrs. Park, and instead of calling you by your first name, Jay would refer to you as “my wife,” and—

He was feeling dizzy just thinking about it. Was he getting ahead of himself?

“Are you mad at me?” your voice suddenly said.

Jay jumped. He whipped his head around to see you with your arms crossed and a big, sulky frown.

Were you standing there the whole time?

“B-Babe, I thought you went to the bathroom…”

You shook your head. 

“Are you mad at me?” you repeated. Taking a few steps forward, you turned him around, pressing him up against the kitchen counter while holding his hands together.

“Wait, what?” Jay’s brows knitted together. “Baby, where is this coming from?”

“You…” you began, averting your gaze. “You didn’t say it back.”

Jay cocked his head. “Say what back?”

You huffed. “I said I love you, and you didn’t say it back.”

You tilted your head so that he couldn’t see your pouty face, playing with his fingers. You murmured something under your breath, something that he couldn’t quite hear.

Jay stared at you for a few seconds, processing everything. And then, he threw his head back, loud bouts of laughter emitting from his lips. Every time that he would calm down and look at you, your sulky face would make him burst back into his fit of giggles.

“It’s not funny!” you slapped his shoulder, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment. When he wouldn’t stop laughing, you turned away, punching him on the arm, “You’re a jerk, Jay.”

At that, Jay immediately stopped laughing.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” Jay clasped your hands in his, pulling you close to him so that you were flushed against his chest. 

You frowned. 

“It's too late to apologize,” you mumbled.

Jay almost chuckled at your grumpiness, but stopped himself before you’d be even more upset with him.

You stayed like that for a few moments: Jay holding you close against the kitchen counter, fingers loosely intertwined.

Finally, Jay poked your cheek.

“Hey!”

“Don’t be mad at me, Angel.”

Your frown deepened.

Jay sighed.

Bringing a large hand up, he gently grabbed your face, bringing it closer.

“What are you-”

Jay began littering chaste kisses all across your face– he started at your cheek, moved up to your forehead, down your nose, to your other cheek, and lastly to your chin, where he teased you by kissing just close enough to your lips. He exaggerated by making loud kissy noises to further rile you up.

“Stoooooppp,” you whined, but made no attempt to resist him.

Jay let out a low chuckle. He cupped your cheeks. He ghosted his lips over yours, reveling in the way that you automatically closed your eyes and wet your lips in anticipation. He contemplated whether or not he should pull away to tease you, but decided against it. 

Who was he to deny you?

When your lips met, you let out an excited squeal, squeezing his bicep. When you guys pulled away, Jay breathed against your lips, “I love you.”

“Baby...” you mewled, sliding your hands up his chest to hook around his neck.

“I love you,” he repeated himself, leaning in to give your lips a peck. “I love you so fucking much.”

You giggled softly, your breath brushing against his cheek. “I love you, too.”

you turn in his arms and cup his flushed cheeks. his eyes are glassy, hair messy, lips curved in the dopiest smile you’ve ever seen. he looks illegally cute like this.

“let’s get you to bed, hm?”

“nooo,” he whines, actually whines, and that’s when the secret aegyo slips out. he tilts his head, batting his lashes slowly with puffed cheeks. “want kisses first. pretty please? with a cherry on top?”

you can’t even pretend to resist. you lean in and he meets you halfway — except it’s less a kiss and more a sloppy, eager collision. his mouth is warm and tastes like sweet peach soju. he kisses you with zero filter, tongue lazy and playful, soft little moans spilling between breaths. when you try to pull back for air he chases you, lips still puckered.

“more,” he mumbles, kissing you again, messier this time. his hands slide down to squeeze your waist, pulling you flush against him. another tiny burp interrupts the kiss and he laughs right into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you.

“jay!” you giggle, wiping his wet bottom lip with your thumb.

he just beams, dimples on full display. suddenly he pulls away, holding one finger up like he’s had the greatest idea in the world.

“wait wait wait— i wrote you a song in the car.”

before you can stop him, he starts singing. loudly. off-key. painfully sincere.

“you are my sunshine… my only sunshine—” he sways dramatically, nearly tipping over. you grab his waist to steady him. 

you think of telling him that song already exists. 

but you wouldn't break his heart, would you?

“you make me happyyy when skies are graaay~” another burp. “ excuse me— even when you steal my clooothes… i still love youuuu~”

you’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts. jay looks so proud of himself, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling like he just performed at a sold-out stadium. he bows dramatically and almost falls forward. you catch him again.

“my talented boyfriend,” you coo, brushing his hair back. “time for sleep now, superstar.”

but he’s not done. he cups your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks a little as he stares at you with pure drunk adoration.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers loudly. “like… unreal. how did i get so lucky? i’m gonna marry you one day. like, for real. big ring. big wedding. you in white. me crying in front of everyone.”

he seals the promise with another sloppy kiss, all tongue and affection, humming happily when you kiss him back. his hands roam lazily — not greedy, just wanting to feel you close. when he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your lips and he giggles again, wiping it with the back of his hand like it’s the funniest thing ever.

“messy,” he mumbles, but he’s already leaning in for more.

you manage to walk him to the bedroom with a lot of stumbling and soft laughter. he keeps stopping every few steps to hug you, to sing another line of his terrible love song, to give you nose kisses followed by loud smooches.

once you finally get him on the bed, he pulls you down on top of him, refusing to let go. his arms lock around your back like a sleepy koala.

“stay,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck. his voice is getting slower now, sleepiness winning. “love you so much… my baby… my wife in the future… burp— sorry.”

you snort, hiding your face in his chest. he’s warm, still flushed from the alcohol, heart beating fast under your cheek. you press soft kisses to his collarbone and he sighs happily, one hand stroking your hair in lazy, uncoordinated movements.

“you’re extra cute when you’re drunk, you know that?” you murmur.

he hums, eyes already closed, but his lips are still curved in a smile. “only for you… secret aegyo… only comes out when i’m drunk and in love.”

another tiny burp escapes him. he giggles sleepily, the sound fading into a contented sigh as he presses one last sloppy kiss to the top of your head.

“sing me to sleep?” you tease.

jay starts humming the same off-key melody again, voice cracking adorably, getting quieter and quieter until it’s just soft breathing and the occasional sleepy mumble of “love you… so much…”

you stay curled on his chest, listening to his heart slow down, his arms still wrapped tight around you even in his sleep.

your silly, giggly, burping, love-confession-singing boyfriend.

you wouldn’t have him any other way.

© jongst4r, 2026

he’s supposed to be meeting his boss for a quick coffee before work, but the moment he steps inside and shakes rain from his dark hair, his eyes find you like they were always meant to. 

you’re tucked in the corner, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, bottom lip caught between your teeth in concentration. a single strand of hair falls across your cheek and you brush it away without looking up.

something in his chest shifts hard, like the entire universe tilts.

he forgets why he’s there. forgets the schedule. forgets everything except the sudden, overwhelming certainty that he’s looking at the person he’s been waiting for his whole life. 

his soulmate. 

the word echoes in his mind before he can even question it. his heart is racing and his palms feel sweaty even though the café is cool.

he orders his americano without taking his eyes off you for long. when the barista calls his name, he startles like he’s been caught dreaming. he takes the cup, walks past your table slowly, breathing in the faint scent of your vanilla shampoo mixed with fresh rain. he reads your name on the plastic coffee cup and then looks up. for one impossible second your eyes lift and meet his.

you offer a small, polite smile — the kind strangers give strangers when they lock eyes on the street — and then you look back down at your sketch.

jay’s knees nearly buckle.

he leaves the café that day without speaking to you, but he carries the image of your smile like a weigh tucked behind his ribs. that night he lies in bed replaying the three seconds your eyes met his, wondering if you felt even a fraction of what he did. he falls asleep whispering your name like a prayer even though he hasn't even talked to you yet.

the rest of the month becomes a quiet, aching search.

he starts going back to the same café every single day he can, sometimes twice. he sits in the same corner you sat in, hoping the universe will be kind enough to lead you back to him. he sketches little things in his own notebook — the curve of your cheek, the way your fingers held the pencil, the rain on the window behind you. his friends notice something is different.

“hey, you’ve been spacing out so much lately,” jungwon says one evening in the dorm. “everything okay?”

jay just smiles, soft and a little shy. “i think i saw my soulmate.”

the boys tease him at first, but when they see how serious he is — how he slips out early some mornings just to sit in that café with hopeful eyes — they start helping. sunghoon drives him around hongdae on free afternoons. jake suggests posting a soft anonymous message on local community boards. heeseung tells him to trust the universe.

jay keeps it gentle. he doesn’t want to force anything. he just needs to see you again.

every time he walks the streets he scans every face. he visits bookstores, art supply shops, small parks nearby. he starts carrying an extra umbrella in case he sees you caught in the rain again. at night he writes little letters he never sends — about how your smile cracked his world open, how he’s never believed in fate until that tuesday, how he would wait forever if that’s what it takes.

one night he dreams of you. you’re laughing, reaching for his hand, and when your fingers touch warm light blooms between your palms. he wakes up with tears in his eyes and a ridiculous smile on his face.

two weeks pass. then three.

he starts to worry he imagined the power of the feeling. maybe it was just a beautiful girl on a rainy day. but then he remembers the way his heart shook when your eyes met, and he keeps going back.

on the twenty-seventh day, the rain is back. he’s sitting in “your” corner of the café, nursing a cold americano, scrolling through his phone without really seeing it. the bell above the door chimes.

he looks up out of habit.

and there you are.

soaked hair, cheeks flushed from the cold, wearing the same hoodie as the first day. you shake rain from your sleeves and head toward the counter, then pause. your eyes drift across the café and lock on his.

this time the smile you give him is slower. shyer. and it makes him think maybe you remember him too.

jay’s heart explodes.

he stands up so fast he nearly knocks his chair over. he grabs the spare umbrella he’s been carrying for weeks and walks over to you, trying not to look as nervous as he feels.

“h-hi,” he says, voice gentle. “you probably don’t remember me but… i was here a few weeks ago. same table. you were drawing.”

you tilt your head, surprised, but your eyes are warm. “i do remember. your hair was wet from the rain.”

he laughs, soft and relieved, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. i, um… i kept coming back. hoping i’d see you again.”

your cheeks turn pink. you glance at the umbrella in his hand and then back at his face. something in your expression softens, like you feel it too — the pull, the recognition, the quiet click of two souls finding each other.

“i’ve been thinking about you, too,” you admit quietly, almost like you’re surprised at yourself. “that’s weird, right? we didn’t even talk.”

“not weird,” jay says immediately, stepping a little closer. “not if it’s the same for both of us.”

he offers the umbrella. “can i walk you somewhere? or… can i buy you a coffee and sit with you? no pressure. i just— i really want to know your name. and what you were drawing that day. and everything else, honestly.”

you take the umbrella, fingers brushing his. the touch sends warmth racing up both your arms.

you tell him your name, smiling up at him like the sun just came out after months of nonstop rain.

“i'm jay,” he breathes, like the name has been waiting on his tongue for years. “park jay.”

you end up sitting together for three hours. the rain keeps falling outside but inside the café it feels like spring. he listens like every word you say is the most important thing he’s ever heard. you show him your sketchbook — pages of city scenes, soft portraits, little feelings captured in pencil. he shows you the tiny doodles he’s been doing of the girl he couldn’t forget.

when the barista starts closing up, jay walks you home under your shared umbrella. your shoulder presses against his arm the whole way. at your door he lingers, eyes shining.

“can i see you again tomorrow?” he asks, hopeful and sweet. “or the day after. or every day after that. whatever you’ll give me.”

you rise on your toes and press the gentlest kiss to his cheek. “tomorrow sounds perfect, jay.”

he goes home floating. that night he plays guitar softly in the dorm, composing little melodies that sound like you. the boys smile knowingly when they hear him humming.

over the next weeks he falls deeper. he brings you flowers that remind him of your drawings. he takes you to quiet places in seoul he loves — rooftop gardens at golden hour, hidden record stores, late-night hanok cafés. he holds your hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever been given. every time you smile at him he looks at you like you hung the moon.

one night, months later, curled up together on his couch under a blanket, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers the truth.

“the first time i saw you, something in me knew. like my soul had been looking for you my whole life and finally breathed when it found you. i would’ve kept searching forever.”

you kiss him slow and deep, fingers in his hair, heart so full it hurts.

“good thing you don’t have to search anymore,” you murmur against his lips. “i’m right here. and i’m not going anywhere.”

jay smiles, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and lights up the whole room, and kisses you again like he’s making up for every day he spent missing you before he even knew your name.

soulmates, after all, always find their way back.

© jongst4r, 2026

The cool spring air hit you, sending strands of your hair flying to your face, effectively and deliberately ruining your lip combo you’d spent a few minutes on.

Perfect.

So, so perfect. 

The university grounds had burst into color — you could smell the scent of fresh corn dogs being fried from the row of food stalls near the humanities building, a speaker somewhere blasting Bags by Clairo loud enough for the chorus to melt into the chatter of passing students, laughter ringing out from every direction.

Every year, the graduating batch organized a spring fair as one final send-off before the semester dissolved into deadlines, internships, and goodbyes too heavy to say out loud. 

Festive is an understatement.

Flowers strung along canopies, student booths lined with handmade trinkets and half-melted candles, photo walls stood crowded with squealing friend groups, while games and cheap drinks in plastic cups filled whatever empty spaces remained.

Really, it was one last attempt at wringing sentimentality out of a student body too sleep-deprived, and far too emotionally constipated, to process the fact that the seniors would be gone in a few months.

Not that any of that was your main concern.

Nope, while everyone else was busy pretending to cherish the fleeting beauty of university life, you were far more invested in the one thing spring fair reliably delivered every single year: the campus anonymous confession page losing its collective mind. 

Like clockwork, the submissions came flooding in the second booths opened. 

Confessions.

hello and good moooorning 😍 to the engineering major at booth 6 who keeps fixing his sleeves every thirty seconds FUHHH you’re so damn fine bruh like you’re insane

WHOEVER THE FUCK LITERALLY JUST GOT SERENADED BY THE LEE HEESEUNG FROM THE MUSIC DEPT WITH WOOZI’S GUITAR did you say yes or are we all just gonna die from the heat today 😞

Shameless pleas to visit their stalls.

hi hi hi PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE come to booth 14 🥹 we’re really cool we promise! we have brownies, friendship bracelets, and jake voluntarily (mind you, VOLUNTARILY) doing customer service with a smile ✌️this may never happen again so take the risk or lose the chance and come visit us

send support to booth 9 pls… hot (totally) health sciences major chwe vernon agreed to wear cat ears if we hit the quota (begging on my knees btw)

Missed connections.

to the cute girl in a pink cardigan who helped me pick up the flyers in the library yesterday, i’m so sorry for suddenly running away because Jungwon poked me by the waist 😭 if you see this pls reach out i wanna be friends sb

tysm to kazuha from the performing arts department for buying our cheesecakes and complimenting them 🥹 so so grateful for the love and support, we were too shy to say it in person but you made our entire day ☹️ i hope you see this

Questionable public dares.

yo admin if this gets posted before 2pm i will man up and ask for a picture with sunghoon

my friends said i will never have the balls for this but yolo 😂 but to ningning from the fashion booth, do you wanna check out the book booth by the engineering building…??? ADMIN PLS POST THIS ASAP TY

Suspiciously detailed sightings that sent entire departments into detective mode.

just saw business boy, black tote bag, silver watch, bring in a huge ass bouquet at exactly 10:09 am today (entrance by the accountancy department building) WHO IS IT FOR PLS SPILL

admin pls tell james to stop manning the god damn drink booth like he’s auditioning for boyfriend of the year 😭✌️im crine

Friends exposing friends with absolutely no shame. 

MANNN my seatmate (from lecture hall 4 btw) spent a whole ass hour perfecting her eye makeup for literally no damn reason apparently 💔 “i need to look nice in group photos” but kim mingyu is legit on campus rn just floating around

admin pls post because ik very well my friends just on here rn… seungmin if you see this pls pls PLEASE come to the building by the dorms because you have yet to hand me over the money from last week & im craving allat 🫠

And, naturally, dramatic cries for administrative intervention.

admin can you please confirm whether or not sunoo is single so i can proceed with my day hwhauahahah

TO WHOEVER IS USING THIS PAGE TO PUBLICLY THIRST OVER THE BUSINESS MAJOR BOYS PLEASE KEEP GOING I’M SO DAMN INVESTED 🙏

Spring fair was many things, but above all, it was prime anonymous page entertainment. 

The feed moved like it had a life of its own, too fast to properly keep up with, too loud to ignore, and just chaotic enough that everyone pretended they weren’t checking it every thirty seconds.

You were seated at one of the long wooden tables near the center walkway, half-shaded by a canopy of paper flowers someone had clearly spent too many late nights folding. 

Your friends had run off earlier with vague promises of “be right back” and “we’re getting food,” which, in spring fair language, meant you had at least ten uninterrupted minutes alone with your phone and absolutely zero self-control.

Perfect conditions, really.

Your thumb kept scrolling out of habit more than curiosity now, refresh, pause, scroll, repeat, it’s like the page had become a second pulse in your hand.

The feed was still alive, of course. It always was at this hour, like the entire campus had agreed productivity was optional for the day.

You weren’t even reading anymore; you were just catching fragments of them as they passed. 

YOON JEONGHAN OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS jeonghan literally just walked past me again and ugh i swear he wants to make eye contact 🤣 chill im easy

Admin pls stop approving confessions from the same 7 people flirting with people they saw for less than a minute 😭

to whoever the hell keeps stealing extra fries from our booth: we see you, we respect you, and we fear you (just don’t steal one of the plastic containers bruh istg)

admins just be approving to approve nowadays im hollering

JUST PASSED BY BOOTH 14 AND WTF JAKE IS SO FINE IN PERSON WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME 💔

admin pls why are all the confessions js people admitting they’ve been staring at strangers for 0.2 seconds and calling it fate 🥲

You exhaled lightly through your nose, shifting your elbow on the table.

The feed blurred into itself again — booths, crushes, complaints, people overreacting to everything and nothing all at once.

Then, in between everything else, something newer slipped in.

Not as a thread, not grouped together, not framed as anything important. 

It was just fragments appearing at different points in the scroll, separated by entirely unrelated posts that had nothing to do with each other. 

A complaint about melted ice cream sat above it, followed by a lost phone report, followed by someone asking if it was embarrassing to trip in front of their crush and still think about it three days later.

Buried somewhere after a booth announcement about discounted chicken popcorn came a post that looked more like an unfinished thought than a confession.

okay wait i’m actually going to get exposed for this but i HAVE to get this off my chest cause im so bad at keep secrets 🧍‍♂️… whoever is the lucky girl congratufuckinglations

You kept scrolling.

A meme about Hoshi tripping on his own shoe lace. A student asking if anyone had seen a missing shoulder bag. A rant about how the mathemathics department’s attendance sheet was “emotionally violent on Thursdays.”

Another booth update. Someone selling stickers shaped like fruits. A joke about how no one trusts the engineering department with electrical wiring but still buys from them anyway.

Then, scattered again, further down, separated by posts about croquettes and someone complaining about the heat making eyeliner run, another line appeared.

IF YOU GUYS SAW A BUSINESS MAJOR WALKING AROUND WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS TODAY NO THE FUCK YOU DID NOOOTT 😂 quit playing

A confession about accidentally calling a professor “mom” during recitation. A blurry photo of someone’s drink order labeled “breakdown brew.” A booth owner begging people to stop stealing sample forks.

Then the same voice, not labeled, not connected, just dropped again in a completely different section of the feed, like it belonged to an entirely separate conversation happening in parallel.

he literally walked around with them for like an hour like he was thinking too hard about something that wasn’t even that complicated be so fr right now man

More posts passed between it. Someone losing their wallet. A joke about how spring fair was just capitalism disguised as bonding time. A group asking admin to stop approving confessions written entirely in caps lock.

A review of booth revel bars calling them “life changing and emotionally destabilizing.”

Then another fragment appeared lower down, not adjacent to the others, not grouped, not following any visible order.

i’m his friend btw i’m allowed to say this 💀 he kept stopping near booths like he was waiting for a sign from the heavenly figures or something but then just kept walking again like nothing happened every time i can’t deal with this bitch for longer

The feed kept moving without acknowledging it. A poll about favorite booth snacks. A lost airpod report. Someone asking if anyone had seen the accountancy department boy who always sits slightly off-center in Lecture Hall 5 on Wednesdays because “he looks familiar and I’m losing my mind about it.”

Another unrelated joke about Jake smiling too much at customers.

Then, further down again, almost swallowed by everything else, the final fragment appeared.

anyway if lecture hall 2 psych girl somehow sees this, just know he’s been like this since forever and i’m tired of having to deal with his whiny ass 😭

You stared at the screen a little longer than necessary.

The posts kept moving the same way they always did, too fast to settle into anything solid. Booth updates, complaints about the heat, someone saying their garlic bread fell, and they “emotionally checked out for the day.” A Joshua sighting that apparently caused mild chaos for no reason other than existing.

Nothing about it was structured enough to take seriously.

Your thumb kept scrolling.

A recurring mention of a business major with a silver watch moving between booths kept slipping through the feed, like the page had collectively decided he was now part of the spring fair scenery. 

why does the commerce guy with the silver watch or something keep appearing everywhere like he’s doing a campus tour wtf 👻 companion who are YOU

Then another post a few scrolls down, joking about how he kept pausing near booths like he was trying to decide something important, turning away, coming back, then disappearing again like the fair itself was giving him second thoughts.

“Who even is this guy that he has several posts about him,” you mutter under your breath.

Between those, everything else stayed unrelated. Someone complaining about their groupmate disappearing mid-spring fair to “find themselves” and returning with only fried snacks. A rant about Lecture Hall 11 seats being “designed like medieval punishment devices specifically for Monday mornings,” like some ancient trial method disguised as university furniture. 

bro from business keeps hovering around like he’s waiting for a cue in a movie but refuses to read the script DAMN ITT JUST TAKE THE RISK BROTHER 🫡

A friend-type post followed somewhere else in the feed, joking about someone being seen pacing between booths all day, stopping near crowds, then walking away again like he was waiting for something to align properly before acting on it.

You exhaled lightly through your nose.

“Jeez, what’s all the fuss for,” you muttered under your breath, thumb still moving.

A guy with flowers, some vague sightings, people acting like it was a bigger deal than it sounded on paper.

Your eyes flicked back to the feed, slower now, like you were actually paying attention instead of just scrolling through habit.

Lecture Hall 2, psychology girl.

That detail came up again.

You tilted your head slightly, thinking.

Psych department. Lecture Hall 2. Tuesdays.

Your gaze drifted, not fully focused, just connecting dots as they came.

There were only so, so many girls in your class who fit that routine.

The one who always came in early and chose the same seat without fail. The one who never really joined conversations before class started. The one who stayed quiet, always slightly detached from the noise around her. The one who left right after lectures ended, like she was already halfway elsewhere before anyone else stood up.

You hummed softly to yourself.

“Probably her then,” you said under your breath, more observation than certainty, you were just sorting through possibilities the same way the page was.

Your thumb kept scrolling.

Still no urgency.

After all, it was still just another messy spring fair feed.

Your thumb kept moving, screen half-tilted toward you as you slouched a little further into the wooden bench. 

The feed didn’t care that you were only half-reading it anymore. It just kept giving you more of the same exact things — booth drama, exaggerated confessions, someone arguing about cup noodles superiority like it was a serious academic debate.

You were mid-scroll when your phone dimmed slightly from inactivity, your attention drifting just enough to let the sound of the fair take over again. 

The sound of chairs scraping, distant laughter, and a burst of music from a nearby stall that got swallowed by the crowd almost immediately.

Then something tapped your shoulder.

It was light and direct; it wasn’t enough to hurt you, but just enough to interrupt.

You blinked once, still half in the page, then instinctively turned your head slightly.

Another tap, closer to your other side this time, like whoever it was didn’t feel like waiting for you to fully register them.

“Hello,” a voice said behind you, calm but way too close to ignore.

You finally looked up.

The phone in your hand was still open to the feed, but it suddenly didn't feel important enough to hold onto.

Behind you stood Jay.

The Park Jongseong, mind you.

Not in a dramatic way, no, not like the kind of arrival people would turn their heads for twice. He was just there, close enough that the noise of the fair felt slightly farther away, like the space around him had decided to quiet down without asking permission.

Business department. Silver watch. The same name that kept slipping through anonymous posts like background noise people joked about but never expected to actually stand in front of them.

Shit.

The same guy people apparently kept orbiting in passing, the one with the easy reputation, the one who always looked like he belonged somewhere slightly more put together than wherever he was currently standing.

And yet he was just there.

Right behind you.

Holding a bouquet that looked almost out of place in his hands.

Yellow first, soft and bright like sunlight caught in something real. White flowers layered in between like pauses that didn't need explaining. Pink near the edges, lighter, almost hesitant, like someone had chosen them last but still chosen them anyway.

His grip on it wasn't fully confident either. It’s like he wasn't used to holding something that mattered in a way people could see.

Your brain didn't process it all at once.

It came in fragments.

Silver watch. Jay. Business department. The posts. The running jokes. The vague mentions. The anonymous page chaos that suddenly didn't feel so anonymous anymore.

Your chest tightened before you could even name the feeling.

Not pain, not fear.

Hell no.

Just something sharp and immediate, like your body had recognized him faster than your thoughts did.

Your fingers loosened slightly around your phone without you realizing it.

The screen stayed lit in your hand, still showing the feed, still full of noise that now felt distant and irrelevant.

None of it mattered anymore though. 

Jay was looking at you like you weren't just another passerby at spring fair. As if he hadn't just crossed campus, ignored everything else, and stopped exactly here on purpose.

Your heartbeat did something stupidly obvious then, loud enough that it almost felt unfair.

Heat crept up your cheeks before you could stop it, subtle at first, then worse when you realized there was no way to pretend you hadn't noticed him.

You swallowed slightly.

He still didn't speak.

He just waited.

It’s almost like he was giving you time to fully arrive back into your own moment before he stepped into it with you.

The seconds stretched, and you became acutely aware of every sound around you. 

The distant hum of the fair. The laughter from the food stalls. Someone calling out prices for handmade jewelry four booths away. All of it felt like it belonged to a different world now, one that existed just beyond the strange, quiet bubble you'd somehow fallen into with a guy you'd only ever known through secondhand stories and pixelated profile pictures.

You finally found your voice, though it came out smaller than you intended.

"Hi."

Damn it.

The word barely made it past your throat, and you immediately wanted to take it back. 

Hi? That was what you came up with? 

After seeing his name circulate through anonymous posts, after all the whispers in lecture halls about who he was and who he might be interested in, after scrolling past a post about him just seconds ago without a second thought? Hi?

But Jay's expression didn't shift into the polite, distant acknowledgment you might have expected from someone like him. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, almost like he'd been waiting for you to speak first and was quietly pleased that you had.

"Hi," he echoed back, and his voice was lower than you'd imagined it would be. 

He wasn't in a rush to fill the space between you with unnecessary words.

You glanced down at the bouquet again, as if looking anywhere else might buy you time to figure out what was happening. The yellow flowers caught the afternoon light, and you noticed for the first time how deliberate the arrangement was. This wasn't something grabbed last-minute from a grocery store display. Someone had thought about this. Someone had chosen each stem with purpose.

And that someone was standing right in front of you, watching you not-so-subtly avoid eye contact.

"Those are—" you started, and then stopped, because you weren't sure how to finish the sentence. Beautiful? For me? Completely unexpected from a person I've never actually spoken to before today?

"They're for you," Jay said, and he shifted his weight slightly, lifting the bouquet just enough that it became impossible to pretend otherwise. "If you want them."

Your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.

If you want them.

He was giving you an out. He understood that this was strange, that showing up out of nowhere with flowers for someone you'd never formally met wasn't exactly standard campus behavior. Yet, he said it so simply, like the question was genuine and not just a formality.

"I—" You looked up at him properly now, and the full force of eye contact hit you all at once. 

He was taller than you'd realized, or maybe you just felt smaller. 

Either way, you found yourself staring directly into the kind of gaze that made you understand why people wrote anonymous posts about him in the first place. There was something unnervingly present about the way he looked at you. He was just so, so focused entirely on you like you were worth the attention.

"You don't have to explain," you managed finally, though your voice still felt unsteady. "I just—I wasn't expecting—I mean, I saw the posts, but I didn't think—"

"You saw the posts?" There was a flicker of something in his expression. Not quite amusement, but close to it. "About me wandering around with flowers?"

The heat in your cheeks intensified, and you were suddenly very aware that you'd just admitted to scrolling through the anonymous confession page like everyone else on campus. "I mean—yes? It's hard not to. People post about everything and anything nowadays."

"That's true." He glanced down at the bouquet for a moment, and you noticed the way his thumb brushed against the paper wrapping. A small, almost unconscious gesture. "Though I wasn't sure if you'd actually see them… or if you'd care if you did."

The admission landed strangely. 

He thought about this.

About you specifically, not just about the act of holding flowers in public while people speculated.

"Why wouldn't I care?" you asked before you could stop yourself, and then immediately regretted it. 

That sounded too eager, too obvious, too much like you wanted him to have a good answer.

But Jay didn't seem to mind. If anything, his smile deepened just slightly, and he stepped closer. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough that you could smell something faintly clean and warm, laundry detergent, maybe.

"Because you didn't seem like the type to pay attention to anonymous posts," he said simply. "You always looked like you had better things to think about."

You blinked. "You've noticed how I look?"

The question slipped out before you could filter it, and you watched his expression shift again. Something softer. More uncertain, almost, though he recovered quickly.

"I've noticed a lot of things," he admitted, and then he held the bouquet out fully, bridging the last of the distance between you. 

"These are for you. Because I wanted them to be for you. I've… actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, and this seemed like the only way I'd actually do it."

Your hands moved on their own. You reached out, fingers brushing against the paper wrapping, and you felt the weight of the bouquet settle into your grip. It was heavier than you expected. 

The yellow flowers were bright against your skin. 

The white ones looked almost luminous in the afternoon light. 

The pink, god, the pink was softer up close, delicate in a way that made something twist gently in your chest.

No one had ever given you flowers before.

Not like this, not carefully chosen and held by someone who looked at you like you were worth the effort of choosing them.

"I don't know what to say," you whispered, and the honesty of it surprised even you.

"You don't have to say anything." Jay's voice was quiet now, too, matching yours. "I just wanted you to have them. I just wanted you to know."

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere unexpected. 

Not nervous this time, but genuine, warming, and bright and entirely beyond your control. 

You looked down at the flowers in your arms, then back up at him, and the absurdity of the moment hit you all at once. 

"This is ridiculous," you said, but you were still smiling. "In the best way, by the way. Very, very ridiculous in the best possible way."

Jay's shoulders relaxed slightly, like he'd been holding tension he hadn't realized was there. "I wasn't sure if you'd think it was creepy. Showing up like this. I've been walking around for twenty minutes trying to figure out if this was a terrible idea."

"Twenty minutes?"

"Maybe longer." He ran a hand through his hair, and the gesture was so unexpectedly human that you felt another laugh building in your chest. "The posts weren't wrong. I have been wandering around with these. I just didn't want to seem like I was... I don't know… making a scene."

"You kind of are making a scene," you pointed out, but there was no bite to it. Just warmth.

"Maybe." He glanced around briefly, and you noticed a few people nearby stealing glances. Not many, but enough. Enough that you knew this would probably end up on the anonymous page by tomorrow morning. "But I think I'm okay with that. If you are."

You looked down at the bouquet again, at the colors bright against your arms, and felt something settle in your chest. 

"I'm okay with that," you said.

You laughed, bright and unselfconscious, letting the sound carry just enough that it felt like release.

The noise of the fair faded back in around you, but it didn't feel overwhelming anymore. 

Jay watched you laugh, and something in his expression shifted. 

Something softer, fonder, like he hadn't expected this moment to go this way but was grateful that it had.

A strand of hair had fallen loose from wherever you'd tied it earlier, and you didn't notice it at first, too caught up in the flowers, in the absurdity, in the warmth spreading through your chest. 

But Jay noticed. 

His gaze flickered down for just a second, and then his hand was moving, slow enough that you could have pulled away if you'd wanted to.

You didn't want to.

His fingers brushed against your temple, light and careful, as he tucked the strand back behind your ear. The touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary, and then his hand dropped, returning to his side like nothing had happened.

You felt the ghost of his fingertips against your skin, and the sensation stayed with you, quiet and warm and impossible to ignore.

"There," he said softly. "Now you don't have to keep fixing it."

You hadn't even realized you'd been fixing it.

Somehow, that small gesture felt bigger than the flowers in your arms. 

More intimate, more deliberate, like he'd been paying attention in ways you hadn't known anyone was paying attention.

"Thank you," you said, and the words felt inadequate, but they were all you had. "For the flowers, and… for whatever this is."

Jay smiled, and the expression transformed his face in a way that made you understand, suddenly, why people couldn't stop talking about him. 

Because when he looked at you like that, like you were the only person in a crowded fairground worth focusing on, it felt like something worth talking about.

"I should thank you," he said. "For not making this weird."

"It's still a little weird," you admitted, but you were smiling too.

"Like… um—good weird?"

"Good weird," you confirmed.

The afternoon light caught the yellow flowers in your arms, and for a moment, everything felt suspended. 

You held the bouquet tighter, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you'd have to explain this later. 

To your friends, your classmates, and probably your parents if they saw you returning home with flowers. 

To whoever saw the inevitable post on the anonymous page tomorrow. 

That felt far away now, though, separate from the warmth of this moment and the quiet certainty settling in your chest.

Jay tucked his hands into his pockets, watching you with an expression you couldn't quite name but felt, somehow, like it meant something.

"So," he said, and the word was light, easy. "Do you want to walk around? See what else the fair has to offer?"

You looked at him and felt the last of your nervousness dissolve into something warmer.

"Of course," you said. "I'd love that."

You fell into step beside him, flowers in your arms and the afternoon stretching out ahead, bright and unexpected and entirely, wonderfully new.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Y/N stood, brushing past him without another word.

“where are you going?” he called after her, turning slightly.

Silence.

Jay stared at the hallway for a second… then let out a low exhale, running a hand through his hair.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

Y/N walked beside jay, her hand wrapped tightly around his.

She suddenly stopped.

Jay barely had time to react before she turned, grabbed his collar and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“watch me.”

And just like that, she was pulling him straight into Olive Young, the tiny basket swinging from her hand.

Jay let out a quiet scoff, but he followed anyway, eyes never leaving her.

This was a mistake.

She moved through the aisles eyes scanning rows of eyeshadow palettes, lip tints, skincare bottles. Every now and then, she’d pick something up, inspect it… then toss it into the basket without a word.

Jay didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush her.

He just watched her, hands in his pockets.

“having fun?” he asked lazily.

Y/N didn’t answer.

Instead, she turned.

Her gaze dropped from his eyes….to his wrist.

Jay noticed immediately.

“…don’t,” he warned, though there was no real bite behind it.

Too late.

She grabbed his arm, tugging his sleeve up without hesitation.

“stay still,” she said, already reaching for a tester.

Jay sighed, glancing down at his arm like it had betrayed him.

“you’re unbelievable.”

But he didn’t pull away.

He just stood there, letting her swipe shades across his skin like he’d already accepted his fate.

“…you’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered.

Jay had somehow ended up carrying her purse on his left shoulder, the tiny basket hooked in the same hand.

His right hand?

Completely occupied… more like being dragged around by Y/N.

His wrist was covered in streaks of color, different shades layered over each other from all the testers she’d tried. At this point, he wasn’t even questioning it anymore he just followed.

“…. you’re really using me like a sample board,” jay muttered under his breath.

She paused suddenly.

Jay almost walked into her.

“what now—”

As she stepped closer and reached up, holding a lip tint between her fingers and before he could finish his sentence, she swiped it across his lips.

“baby, wha—”

“shhh,” she cut him off smoothly. “you brought this on yourself.”

Jay froze for half a second.

Then exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly but there was no real resistance left.

“…..unbelievable.”

“press,” she instructed, tapping his chin lightly.

He smacked his lips together, slow and deliberate, then looked down at her like he was reconsidering every decision that led him here.

Y/N smiled, satisfied, before tossing the tint into the basket.

At this point, it was already overflowing. Jay glanced at it, brows knitting slightly. “that’s not even going to fit anymore, baby—”

She shot him a look that made him stop talking.

“right,” he corrected himself, shifting the basket in his hand. “my bad.”

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

Y/N was now squatting on the floor, the tiny basket emptied out in front of her. Makeup scattered everywhere, eyebrow pencils, lip tints, eyeliners, small eyeshadow palettes.

All for one last item.

Jay stood a few steps behind her, watching with quiet amusement, arms loosely crossed.

“….you’re really doing all that for one more?” he asked.

No response.

Y/N was fully locked in.

She carefully picked everything up, rearranging the items with intense focus. Turning them, stacking them, shifting things around again and again like it was some kind of life-or-death puzzle but it just didn’t fit.

She tried again…. still didn’t fit.

Jay huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “baby, just leave it. It’s not going to—”

She shot him a glare.

“…right,” he muttered, lifting his hands in surrender.

Silence fell again, except for the quiet rustling of products being moved around…. until.

“…finally.”

Y/N slid the last lip tint perfectly into place. Well…half of the packaging was being squashed. She lifted the basket up with both hands, a proud, smug smile spreading across her face as she turned to him.

Jay looked down at it and a slow grin tugged at his lips.

“…that’s actually kind of impressive.”

She handed it to him like a trophy.

He took it without hesitation then leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“good job, baby.”

His hand came up to ruffle her hair lightly before he straightened, already turning toward the counter like this had been decided from the start.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

By the time they reached the counter, jay set the basket down without a second thought.

Honestly?

He couldn’t even be mad.

Not when his girlfriend was practically glued to his arm, smiling like that soft and satisfied. The cashier started scanning the items one by one, jay didn’t even bother checking the total—just pulled out his black card and swiped.

He simply reached for the bags when they were handed over, taking them with one hand while the other immediately found Y/N’s again, fingers lacing with hers. She leaned into his shoulder as they walked out, gently swinging his arm between.

As they walked back…

She stopped.

Jay slowed, glancing down as her hand slipped out of his.

Y/N looked up at him, lips forming a small pout.

“…now I feel guilty.”

Jay blinked at her for a second… then let out a quiet breath, stepping closer.

“baby,” he said, voice softer now, “you barely put a dent in my bank.”

Her pout didn’t fully disappear.

So he leaned down—

and pressed a quick kiss against her lips.

“don’t start overthinking.”

He took her hand again, giving it a small squeeze.

“just enjoy it.”

And just like that, the pout melted.

Heeseung freezes. Not shocked by the question, shocked that you’d ever think you needed to ask.

He pulls the car over. Not roughly. Just slow enough that you can hear how careful he’s being with you, even before he speaks.

“Baby,” he says, turning to face you fully, “where is this coming from?”

You shrug, but your eyes don’t lift.

“She’s just.. confident. Smart. Pretty. And she talks to you so easily, and I–”

Your voice cracks softly. “I feel like I fade when she’s around.”

There it is. A small, vulnerable truth he would’ve never pulled from you without feeling the tremble in your silence.

Heeseung reaches across the seat, gently hooking a finger under your chin so you have to look at him.

His voice is soft, but the conviction in it shakes you.

“I don’t want confidence,” he says.

“I don’t want loud.”

“I don’t want someone who tries to get my attention.”

His thumb strokes your cheek once, slow and grounding.

“I want you. The quiet you. The shy you. The unsure you. Every version.”

Your breath hitches, but he keeps going, leaning closer so you can’t escape the warmth of his certainty.

“Sooha doesn’t make my heart do anything.”

“But you?” His smile is small, intimate.

“You walk into a room and I swear everything else just.. stops talking.”

You swallow hard. “But she likes you,” you whisper.

“She can like me,” he replies. “It doesn’t matter. I chose you.”

Then he says it again, firmer: “I. Chose. You.”

Heeseung pulls you into him, hand on the back of your head, holding you like he’s putting all your scattered pieces back exactly where they belong.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into your hair.

“And I don’t see anyone the way I see you.”

You finally melt into him, the insecurity loosening its grip just enough for you to breathe.

Heeseung stays like that, still, warm, endlessly patient, until you believe him.

And he doesn’t let go until you do.

JAY :

Jay senses it immediately. The moment Sooha enters the room, bright and confident, gliding toward him with that too-familiar smile, Jay feels your energy change.

Not dramatically. Not even visibly, unless someone knows you as well as he does.

You go still, your gaze drops, your fingers knot together, you stand a little behind him like you’re trying to shrink yourself smaller than the space you take.

Jay hates it. Not you, never you, but the way her presence makes your light dim.

He doesn’t call you out on it in front of her; he’s too respectful, too composed. But when Sooha laughs too loudly and touches his shoulder while telling a story, Jay’s eyes flick toward you, sharp and quick, and that’s when he sees it:

The insecurity.

The silent hurt.

The belief, wrong, unfair, painful, that you don’t compare.

Jay’s smile fades.

Later, when you’re alone, he doesn’t waste a second.

He closes the door behind you, steps forward, and gently grips your wrist, not tight, not desperate, just enough so you look at him.

“What did she do?” he asks immediately.

You blink. “Nothing. I’m just–”

“Don’t lie to me,” he says softly.

Not harsh. Just Jay: honest, direct, eyes searching your face like he’s reading a language only he knows.

You turn away, exhaling, “She’s everything I’m not,” you admit. “Beautiful. Confident. Flirty. And I see how she looks at you, Jay. I see how everyone looks at the two of you together. And I just–”

Your voice trembles. “I feel.. less.”

The second you say that word, Jay reacts. His hand comes up to your jaw, turning your face to him with slow, deliberate tenderness.

“Don’t ever say that,” he murmurs. His voice is low, thick with emotion he rarely lets anyone hear. “Not about yourself. Not because of her.”

Your eyes well slightly, and Jay’s thumb brushes beneath your cheekbone.

“I chose you,” he says. “Before she tried anything. Before anyone had an opinion. Before I even understood why.”

He leans closer. “When I look at you, I feel calm. I feel understood. I feel like myself.”

His forehead touches yours, breath warm, grounding. “When she looks at me, I feel like I’m being observed.”

“When you look at me, I feel loved.”

Your breath catches.

Jay’s voice softens even more. “And if she did anything, anything at all, to make you doubt your worth?”

His jaw tightens a fraction. “I won’t forgive her for that.”

You shake your head. “It’s not her fault. It’s mine. I just–”

“No.” He cuts you off gently. “It’s because you care. And that’s not a weakness.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest with a protective certainty that instantly steadies your breathing.

“You’re the one I go home to.”

“You’re the one I reach for.”

“You’re the one I want.”

Your fingers clutch the back of his shirt, holding on like you finally believe him.

Jay kisses the side of your head, slow, lingering, full of everything he never says in public.

“Next time she walks into the room,” he whispers, “stand beside me. Not behind me.”

“I want everyone to see who I belong to.”

And you do.

Because when Jay chooses you, he does it with his whole heart, his whole presence, and without apology.

JAKE :

Jake notices it before you say anything.

Vampires don’t just see insecurity, they feel it. It threads through the air like a temperature drop.

The second Sooha walks into the coven hall, laughing too loudly and wrapped in perfume that always smells like she’s trying too hard, Jake’s attention shifts. Not to her. Never to her.

To you.

Your scent changes, not fear, because you’ve never feared him, but something thinner, quieter, something that tightens at the edges. A lonely kind of doubt. It’s subtle to anyone else, but to Jake, it hits like a sudden chord.

He catches the way you step back when Sooha drifts closer to him, her bold touch brushing his arm, her compliments too sharp and too sweet. You retreat only an inch, but to a vampire tuned to the rhythm of your heartbeat, it feels like you’ve backed across the room.

You leave early, polite and composed, the way you always are when you’re hurting.

Jake lets it happen. For exactly two minutes.

Then he’s following you through the corridors, your shifting emotions guiding him until he finds you in a dim hallway, leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He simply steps in front of you, slow and sure, placing a hand beside your head and lowering his forehead to yours. Your breath stumbles in your chest.

“Why did your scent change when she touched me?” he asks, his voice low enough to vibrate against your lips.

“Jake–”

“Don’t lie,” he murmurs, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “Your heartbeat jumped. You pulled away.”

You look down. “She’s… everything I’m not.”

His jaw tightens, the smallest crack in his control. Jake can take danger and loss and centuries of war, but your self-doubt? That’s the one thing that cuts too deep.

He cups your face gently, thumbs sweeping over your cheeks like he’s grounding himself with the feel of you.

“Look at me.”

When you do, the uncertainty in your eyes hits him harder than any blade. He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe you don’t see it.

“Do you know what you smell like to me?” he says, his voice softer now. “Warmth. Peace. Home. I crave you more than blood.”

You draw in a shaky breath.

“Sooha smells like perfume and vanity,” Jake continues, almost dismissive. “Pretty, sure. But empty.”

“And me?” you whisper.

He leans in until his lips nearly brush yours, his voice barely above a breath.

“You smell like someone I’d die for.”

Your heart stutters, and he feels it immediately, pressing closer like he’s trying to absorb every flicker of emotion you’re giving off.

“She makes you insecure,” he says quietly, “but she doesn’t even register to me.”

You look away, but he gently turns your chin back toward him.

“You think she could tempt me?” he murmurs, almost astonished. “You’re the only one who matters.”

Then he kisses you, slow, deliberate, nothing but devotion. No hunger, no frenzy, just a vow pressed to your lips.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again.

“Next time she tries something,” Jake whispers, his breath warm against your mouth, “don’t step away.”

You swallow. “Why?”

His fangs brush your lip, barely there, a promise, not a threat.

“Because I want her to smell exactly who I belong to.”

SUNGHOON :

Sunghoon doesn’t react when Sooha steps close to him.

Not because he misses it, he misses nothing, but because he refuses to give her attention she clearly wants. She talks with that bright, sugary tone she reserves for the vampires she finds attractive, her fingers brushing his sleeve again and again.

He stands perfectly still.

But his awareness isn’t trained on her.

It’s on you.

Your heartbeat is usually the one thing that calms him in a crowded room, steady, soft, familiar. Today, though, it falters. A sharp, uneven rhythm, like the sound of someone swallowing something painful.

His eyes flick to you. In that brief moment, he sees the way your arms fold in, shoulders pulled slightly forward as if trying to fold yourself out of sight. And beneath that quiet posture is something he never wants to see on your face: Insecurity.

The realization lands heavy in his chest.

When the coven finally disperses, he searches for you, not out of obligation, but because his instincts won’t let him walk away. He finds you in the silent training hall, sitting on the floor with your knees pulled to your chest, staring at nothing.

You don’t hear him approach, but you flinch when he sits beside you.

He hides the way that reaction cuts him.

Sunghoon rests his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed straight ahead. His voice, when it comes, is quiet but unwavering. “Why did your heart hurt earlier?”

You try to deflect, but he doesn’t let you.

“I heard it,” he says, steady as stone. “Something upset you.”

There’s a long pause before you finally speak, your fingers worrying at the fabric of your sleeve.

“Sooha’s just.. confident. Pretty. And she talks to you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. She stands so close, laughs so easily, and I just–”

Your breath falters. “I don’t really compare.”

Sunghoon closes his eyes for a moment, jaw tightening like he’s restraining something sharp from slipping out, a flash of cold protectiveness he knows won’t help you.

When he looks at you again, his expression is darker, more serious. “Come here.”

You hesitate, but only briefly. His hand slides behind your knee, guiding you forward until you’re settled between his legs. His hands lift to your jaw, warm against your skin despite the coolness of his body.

“Don’t fold in on yourself like that,” he murmurs. “Not because of her.”

You look away, but he tilts your chin back with quiet insistence.

“She doesn’t matter to me,” he says, voice low, steady, utterly true. “She never has.”

Your lips part. “But–”

“Listen,” he interrupts gently.

His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breath brushing across your mouth. The small contact steadies him in a way he’d never admit aloud.

“When she looks at me, I feel nothing,” he says. “When you look at me…” His thumb traces your cheekbone in a slow, deliberate stroke. “I feel everything I’m not supposed to.”

Your breath catches.

“She doesn’t intimidate me,” he continues, softer now. “But the thought of you doubting yourself? That’s what unsettles me.”

You blink, startled. “Unsettles you?”

He nods, once, small, but honest.

“Because I never want you to forget what you are to me.”

His fingertips slide to the back of your neck, his touch instinctive, protective.

“You’re the only person I let this close. The only heartbeat I listen for. The only thing that still feels dangerous.”

Your throat tightens.

“And if she makes you feel like that again,” Sunghoon says quietly, “I’ll handle it.”

You whisper, “You don’t have to–”

“I know.” His eyes soften almost imperceptibly. “But I will.”

He draws you into his chest then, slow, certain, as if anchoring you to something solid, and you melt into his embrace, tension slipping out of your muscles one thread at a time.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close enough that your heartbeat brushes his senses again.

“You don’t have to compete with her,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “Or with anyone.”

Your breathing steady now. “Why?”

His lips brush your ear, barely there, but enough to make your pulse jump.

“Because, sweetheart…”

“beauty never moved me.”

“You did.”

SUNOO :

Sunoo notices fast.

Not just because of his heightened senses, though they help, but because he reads emotions the way others read body language. Feelings are loud to him, even when people try to hide them.

So when Sooha enters the gathering all polished and bright, Sunoo barely glances her way. He’s used to people gravitating toward him, complimenting his beauty or trying too hard to impress him. It usually only irritates him.

But what catches him off guard is the subtle shift in you.

You pull back, your shoulders curve inward, your eyes dim just slightly and you inch away from him without even realizing it.

The sight hits him like a quiet heartbreak.

While Sooha laughs at something he didn’t say, Sunoo’s attention is already on you, watching, not judging, simply concerned. And when you slip out early, like the room has lost its air, he excuses himself immediately.

He finds you in a dim corridor, perched on a windowsill, staring out at the moon as though you’re hoping it might reflect you back differently.

He approaches softly. “Pretty moon,” he says, voice gentle as he stops beside you. “But you look sad.”

You look down, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he replies lightly, without teasing or pressure, just truth spoken in his usual, disarming way.

He sits next to you, folding himself gracefully, hands resting on his knees as he studies your face with patient warmth.

“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Before your heart actually cracks and I have to cause a scene.”

You let out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“Then it probably matters,” he says with a small, knowing smile.

After a moment, you whisper, “It’s Sooha.”

Sunoo doesn’t react outwardly. No annoyance, no surprise. He simply waits, giving you the space he knows you need.

“She’s so confident,” you say. “And beautiful. And bold. Everyone notices her, especially when she talks to you. And I just.. felt–”

Your voice wavers. “Less.”

Sunoo’s expression softens, not dramatically, but with a quiet ache, like the word itself wounded him.

He lifts his hand, brushing his knuckles along your cheek.

“You think I want someone who makes you feel small?” he asks softly. “Someone who tries so hard to seem perfect she forgets to be real?”

Your eyes widen, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

“When she looks at me, she sees a vampire,” Sunoo says. “Something to admire. Something to chase.”

His fingertips trail to your wrist, lingering where your pulse flutters beneath his touch. “When you look at me.. you see a person.”

Your breath stirs in your chest, uneven.

“That’s why she’ll never compare,” he adds.

He shifts closer, bringing his hand to your jaw, thumb brushing the soft line of your cheek.

“You don’t fade next to her,” he murmurs. “You shine in ways she’ll never understand.”

You swallow, overwhelmed by the warmth in his eyes.

“And if she made you doubt that,” Sunoo says, a quiet protectiveness threading through his tone, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Sunoo, you don’t have to–”

“Yes,” he interrupts softly, leaning forward until his forehead meets yours, “I do. Because you’re mine. And I won’t let anyone, not even you, convince you you’re anything less than precious.”

His thumb strokes your cheek, slow, reassuring.

“You don’t see what I see,” he whispers. “But I’ll keep reminding you until you do.”

You exhale, tension easing from your body as he wraps his arms around you, drawing you gently into his chest. The insecurity loosens its hold, replaced by the quiet safety only Sunoo can give.

Moonlight spills over you both, soft and silver.

And Sunoo holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip even for a moment.

JUNGWON :

Jungwon picks up on it, not because Sooha is subtle, she never is, but because the change in you is so abrupt it sinks straight into him.

Sooha approaches him in that graceful, practiced way she uses around powerful vampires. Her compliments sound airy, almost rehearsed. She stands closer than necessary, her fingers brushing his sleeve like she’s waiting for him to react.

It’s supposed to look flattering.

To Jungwon, it’s nothing but background noise.

Even with Sooha right in front of him, his attention keeps drifting past her to where you stand across the room. You’re turned slightly away, pretending to reorganize books he knows you already put in order. Your shoulders are tense, your breath shallow, and your heartbeat..

It’s the hurt in it that makes something in him go still. Not fear. Not jealousy. Just pain you’re trying to swallow down quietly.

He watches you for the rest of the gathering, eyes flicking back whenever Sooha inches closer. You avoid looking at him, and that alone tells him more than any scent or heartbeat ever could.

When the coven finally disperses and Sooha gives up with a tight smile, Jungwon slips away in the opposite direction, searching.

He finds you in a dim back corridor, leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped around yourself, eyes fixed on the floor like you’re trying not to feel something too heavy.

He says your name softly, and the way you flinch makes his chest tighten.

He approaches slowly. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Talk to me.”

You force out a small laugh that sounds brittle. “It’s nothing. Really.”

But he hears the tremor in your voice. He feels the insecurity curling through your thoughts like fog. His expression softens, though his voice stays steady.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers. “Not this.”

Your eyes finally lift, and the vulnerability in them makes his breath catch. “Sooha’s just.. everything I’m not,” you say quietly. “She’s confident and beautiful and she talks to you like she belongs next to you. And I know it’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t care, I just–”

Your voice cracks.

“I felt small.”

Jungwon steps closer, but gently, giving you a chance to stop him. When you don’t, his hand lifts to your jaw, brushing along your skin with a touch soft enough it almost startles you.

“You’re not small,” he says, voice low. “You’re hurting. That’s not the same.”

You swallow hard, eyes stinging. “I just don’t compare.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, grounding himself in the feel of you, the warmth of your breath, the sound of your pulse settling under his.

“Sooha doesn’t matter to me,” he murmurs. “Not the way you’re imagining.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he stops you gently.

“She wants attention,” he says. “She wants status. She wants to be admired.”

He lifts your hand, pressing it to the center of his chest.

“But she doesn’t want me.”

Your breath catches. “And me?”

His eyes open, glowing faintly in the dark hallway.

“You’re the only reason I feel anything at all.”

Your heartbeat jumps beneath your own fingertips, pressed to his chest, and Jungwon smile, small, sincere, almost shy. The kind of smile he never shows anyone else.

“This,” he whispers, covering your hand with his own, “only reacts to one person. It’s not her.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to bother you with this.”

“You could never bother me,” he says, voice warm and certain. “But watching you doubt yourself?” His forehead brushes yours again, soft and intimate. “That’s what really gets to me.”

He slips his arms around you then, drawing you in so carefully it feels like he’s afraid you might break if he moves too fast. You melt against him, your body uncoiling as his hold becomes your anchor.

“If she ever makes you feel like that again,” Jungwon murmurs into your hair, “you come find me.”

“Why?” you whisper.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands settle on your waist, firm and protective.

“Because you’re the one I watch,” he says softly.

“You’re the one I’m drawn to.”

“The one who actually gets under my skin.”

His thumb grazes your lower lip, his voice dropping to something barely audible.

“Sooha was never competition.”

His gaze flickers to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

“You,” he whispers, “are the only one who ever could be.”

NIKI :

It isn’t Sooha’s perfume, or her voice, or the way she positions herself right in his path as if it’s a coincidence. Those details have never been enough to pull his attention.

But you do.

He sees the moment something shifts inside you, a faint tightness in your shoulders, the slight hitch in your heartbeat, the way your arms fold across your body like you’re holding yourself together. It isn’t fear, or surprise. It’s a quiet, sinking kind of hurt, the one he recognizes instantly.

Sooha steps closer to him, smiling in that perfectly practiced way she uses on vampires. “Ni‑ki, you looked incredible during training today. Your form was–”

He doesn’t register a single word after your heartbeat stumbles.

His gaze is already locked on you.

You’re standing near the edge of the training mat, eyes fixed on the floor. You’re not trying to get his attention, you’re trying very hard not to be seen, and that’s exactly what makes him move.

He turns away from Sooha mid‑sentence.

She stops, surprised, but he doesn’t spare her a glance. He walks toward you with quiet, measured steps, slipping through the room as if no one else exists.

You jump when he appears beside you. That tiny flinch makes something go tight inside him, but he keeps his voice calm and steady.

“Hey,” he says, leaning slightly forward. “Can you look at me?”

You try. Your eyes flicker up for a second, then drop back to the floor.

He steps closer, not crowding you, just gently blocking out the rest of the room, giving you privacy in the middle of a crowd.

“What happened?” he asks quietly.

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words don’t match the soft shake in your voice.

Ni‑ki studies you, taking in the way your breathing shifts, the way you won’t lift your head. “You’re not,” he murmurs. “I feel it.”

Your fingers tighten around your arms. “Sooha’s just a lot. She’s confident. She’s pretty. She talks to you like she has a chance. And I know I shouldn’t care, but…”

You swallow, and the softness of the next words nearly undoes him: “I don’t exactly compare.”

Ni‑ki goes still.

Not in a dramatic, dangerous way, more like someone quietly absorbing something that hurts in a place he didn’t know was vulnerable.

Then he steps in front of you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, far enough that you never feel trapped. His eyes search yours, and when he finally speaks, his voice is gentler than he intended.

“You think I notice her?”

A faint hesitation. “…kind of.”

He lets out a slow breath, almost like it hurts to hear. “Then you don’t understand me at all.”

His hand rises, stopping near your cheek. When you don’t pull away, his fingertips brush lightly along your skin, a careful, grounding touch rather than something dramatic.

“Sooha can talk to me every day,” he says quietly. “She can smile, flirt, try whatever she wants.”

His thumb wipes a tear you didn’t realize had escaped.

“But she doesn’t get my attention. Not really.”

He takes your hand then, guiding it to his chest. His heartbeat kicks beneath your palm, steady and strong, like he’s letting you listen to something he doesn’t show anyone.

“This is what you change,” he whispers. “No one else.”

Your breath catches, and his eyes soften even more.

“I feel it when you doubt yourself,” he continues. “I feel it when something makes you shrink. I feel it when you think someone like her could ever matter to me.”

His forehead drops gently against yours, his voice lowering with sincerity instead of intensity.

Then he wraps his arms around you, slowly, like he’s giving you time to step away if you want. You don’t. You melt against him, and his hold tightens, protective and sure.

Against his chest, with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the truth settles in: Sooha never stood a chance. But you? You’re the one he orbits without even realizing it.

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

— ౨ৎ thank u for tuning in ! @j-jinxee @slp23 @unsurereader @heelovesmeknot @sunshine-skz @hoondrop @jooniesbears-blog @jordan1024 @heeswif3y @outroherrr @harufluff @cheeseball0 @yjwluver @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @itjengirl @emiliasstuffs-blog @isa942572 @lufcxx @alienqbrain @woniebae @baekxo07 @titttuaf @chuuswifereal @kyanmeai @isabellah29 @deezbin @skzenhalove @eneiyri @a4ruby @saxytalks @denleave1088 @imdelulu @powerpuffstuts @hoonatic @dollydigital @chososloverfr @dummyf @chanyeolchannie @oddracha @wonwushu @strawberrynull @ceciloveshee @loumin908 @cexg68 @grassbutneo @gardenwons @pag-yerin @bora04 @iluvnikism @jellymiki

jay had always carried a reputation with him like it was a second skin. by the time he hit college, people already knew his name, and not for any academic achievements. he was “that guy” — the one who’d been caught in countless hallway scuffles, who had a habit of letting his temper flare like gasoline on an open flame. sometimes it was because someone made a dumb remark, sometimes because they touched something that wasn’t theirs, sometimes just because he was in a bad mood. it didn’t help that outside of his fights, he had a reckless streak — you could find him attempting dangerous tricks on his bike, wiping out spectacularly, and then showing up to class with a ripped knee and a grin like he was daring anyone to comment.

yn, on the other hand, was the complete opposite — sweet, soft-spoken, and warm in a way that never felt forced. she was jay’s neighbour, living in the house right next to his. their families had been close enough to trade food on holidays, and even after jay’s family moved away to seattle for a few years, they’d kept in touch. when they came back — jay aged 10, hair a little longer, eyes sharper — yn had been the first one to greet him with a smile, waving from her porch and calling out, “welcome back!”

from that day onward, whenever they ran into each other in the driveway or in the shared space between their gardens, she’d offer a cheerful “good morning,” or ask how his day was going. jay would nod, sometimes mumble something in return, but always walk away feeling a little lighter than before. he thought she was adorable — too adorable, in fact, for someone like him. he’d watch her talk to everyone with the same kindness, but he always felt there was something different in the way she spoke to him, though he didn’t dare to think too much about it.

then came the day that shifted everything. they were both 14, the air hot and heavy with summer. jay had been in the middle of a video game when his mom barged into his room, balancing a plate of freshly cooked soondae and a container of homemade fermented kimchi.

“go take this to the y/l/ns next door,” she said, no room for argument.

he groaned, muttering something about being busy, but she was already giving him that look — the one that promised he’d regret refusing. so he dragged himself off the bed, still in his oversized hoodie and loose shorts, hair sticking out in every possible direction, and trudged across the small path between their houses.

yn opened the door. she was in a pale yellow shirt, hair pulled back loosely, the afternoon light spilling over her features in a way that made jay’s brain stutter for just a second. she smiled immediately, her eyes bright as they landed on him.

“hey, jay! how’ve you been? i feel like i haven’t seen you in a while,” she chirped, stepping back so he could pass her the plate. “how’s high school treating you? are you still hanging out with—”

“stop,” he cut her off, his voice flat. she blinked, the smile faltering, but he kept going. “stop talking to me. i’m not interested in being your friend, okay?”

the words landed between them with a weight he didn’t expect. for a second, she just stared at him, the easy warmth in her eyes replaced by something tight, almost confused. she nodded slowly, taking the plate from his hands without another word, and closed the door.

jay had told himself it was for her own good — that people like him didn’t mix with people like her. she was the kind of person who deserved gentle friends and safe days, not someone who’d get detention for throwing a punch. but that didn’t make the way her expression dropped any easier to forget.

from then on, something in their interactions changed completely. every family dinner their moms insisted on hosting, every time yn came by to borrow sugar or return a casserole dish, every forced moment of interaction — they argued. at first, it was subtle: sarcastic remarks, the occasional jab.

“oh, still skipping homework, i see,” she’d say with a tilt of her head.

“at least i don’t need my mom to walk me to school,” he’d shoot back.

neither of them admitted it, but beneath the barbed words and narrowed eyes, something else lingered. she still noticed when he limped after a biking accident. he still remembered how her voice softened when she said his name. but they both wore their walls high and steady, each pretending not to care, even as the years made it harder to ignore the undercurrent between them.

the bickering wasn’t just a habit; it was a language they had built together, carried over from their teen years into their college years like an heirloom they never questioned.

it started mostly because of their parents. if his mom was wondering where he’d been and couldn’t get a straight answer out of him, she’d always turn to yn. call him, she’d say, with that familiar note of exasperation. and yn would roll her eyes but still do it. he was impossible with everyone else—dodging questions, giving vague answers, or ignoring calls entirely. but for some reason, he always told her.

it didn’t matter what it was. whether he was hanging out somewhere shady, doing something he definitely shouldn’t be doing, nursing a half-empty bottle of cheap liquor, or kissing some random girl at a party (and that always, always stung yn more than she could explain to herself), he would still answer her honestly. he knew she wouldn’t judge him. and most importantly, he knew she wouldn’t snitch.

and she never did. not once.

she liked that he could trust her like that—it made her feel… chosen, in a way. like no matter how many people floated in and out of his life, she had a place no one else could take.

she also knew she could trust him, though he showed it in different ways. he wasn’t the type to check in constantly, but he could be weirdly protective—territorial, even—when it came to her. if she didn’t tell anyone where she was, he noticed. if she was running late, he noticed. sometimes he’d offer to pick her up. sometimes he wouldn’t even bother asking. he’d just show up on his bike, helmet in hand, his expression somewhere between annoyed and worried.

it was one of those unspoken rules between them: she could call him for anything, and he could insert himself into her life whenever he felt like she might need him.

the first time it happened in college was during the second month of freshman year. yn had stayed late in the library to finish an essay. by the time she packed up, the campus was quiet, the sky pitch black, and the only sound was the hum of the vending machines near the stairwell.

she wasn’t scared—at least, that’s what she told herself—but the streets around the campus were different at night. the buses ran less frequently, and the dim yellow streetlights didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. she fished it out, expecting it to be ness asking if she’d finished the assignment. instead, it was him.

jay (block him rn 👺👺)

where r u?

you

library why?

jay (block him rn 👺👺)

you left home three hours ago. why are you still at the library nerd.

you

creep??? quit keeping tabs on me u psycho i had stuff to finish im literally heading back now

there was a long pause before his next message.

jay (block him rn 👺👺)

don’t move.

you

what? why

but the typing dots disappeared. no reply.

yn sighed, shoving her phone back in her pocket. she was halfway down the library steps when she heard it—the low, steady rumble of a motorcycle engine cutting through the stillness. her eyes followed the sound, and sure enough, he pulled up to the curb, stopping right in front of her.

he didn’t even take his helmet off before speaking, his voice slightly muffled. “get on.”

she blinked. “i was literally about to catch the bus—”

“yeah, and wait alone at the stop for twenty minutes? no thanks. get on.”

there was no edge of humor in his tone—just that quiet firmness he got when he’d already made up his mind.

she crossed her arms. “you can’t just decide where i’m going like that.”

he swung one leg over the bike and stood, finally pulling off his helmet. his hair was a mess from the protective gear, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and concern. “you didn’t tell anyone you were staying late. if something happened, nobody would know where you were. that’s stupid.”

she narrowed her eyes. “i can take care of myself, you know.”

“not the point.” he shoved the spare helmet toward her. “put it on.”

for a moment, she considered refusing just to be stubborn. but there was something in his eyes—an intensity she wasn’t used to seeing unless he was defending himself in an argument—that made her pause. he wasn’t just irritated. he was… worried.

so she took the helmet.

when she swung onto the bike, her knees brushed the sides of his legs, and she realised just how close they’d be riding like this. she slid her hands onto the sides of the seat, trying not to wrap them around him.

“hold on,” he said over his shoulder, as if reading her mind.

“i’m fine—”

the engine roared to life, and instinct overruled pride. she wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the warm solidity of him beneath the leather jacket.

they didn’t talk for most of the ride. the wind was loud, the city lights blurring past them in streaks of gold and white. but every time he slowed for a red light, she felt his hand briefly squeeze her knee—not enough to be obvious, just enough to check she was still there, still holding on.

when they reached her house’s driveway, she hopped off, tugging off the helmet. “you didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“yeah, i did.” he looked at her for a moment, then added, “text me next time. or call. i don’t care if it’s two in the morning.”

her chest tightened in a way she didn’t want to examine too closely. “you’re ridiculous.”

“maybe,” he said, smirking faintly as he slid his helmet back on. “but you’re still gonna text me.”

and the annoying part was—he was right.

from then on, it became a pattern. if she was late, if she was somewhere unfamiliar, if she didn’t answer his messages quickly enough, she’d hear that familiar rumble of the bike before she even saw him. sometimes he wouldn’t even speak—just offer the spare helmet and a look that said, don’t argue.

she told herself it was just him being bossy. but deep down, she knew it wasn’t about control. it was about trust—the kind that didn’t need to be explained.

she had been on a date.

after weeks—no, months—of jay pulling up outside her place unannounced, helmet in hand, telling her to “hurry up” without explaining why; after countless nights of him calling her when he needed her to cover for him with his mom; after all the times her heart refused to calm down whenever his name flashed on her screen… she finally caved to the advice of her friends and said yes to someone else.

she wasn’t looking for anything serious—she told herself that, told the guy she was meeting up with, even told her reflection in the mirror before leaving the house. she made it clear to jake (tall, easy smile, the kind of person who laughed more than he spoke) that this wasn’t going to be some slow-burn romance. he said he was fine with that. she was relieved.

and for a while, it was good. easy. they’d spent the evening just hanging out, trading stories like old friends who’d only just met. there wasn’t that undercurrent of tension she always felt with jay, that pull in her chest she could never name without it sounding dangerous. jake was safe. and safe was nice.

but then her phone lit up.

jay.

she turned it face down on the table without a word. the screen buzzed insistently against the wood, rattling the salt shaker beside it, until it finally went dark. jake didn’t say anything, and she picked up her milkshake again, trying not to let her mind wander.

two minutes later, it buzzed again. and again.

she felt jake glance at the phone, then at her. his voice was light but tinged with curiosity. “you can take it, if you want.”

she shook her head. “it’s fine. i’ll call back later.”

the third time it rang, though, her chest tightened. she couldn’t ignore him forever—he didn’t call like this unless something was wrong. pushing her chair back, she muttered something about taking it outside.

the night air was cool against her skin, the neon sign of the diner buzzing faintly above her head. she swiped to answer before she could change her mind, pressing the phone to her ear.

“what?” she said, her tone sharper than intended, laced with that bitterness she’d learned to use with him when she didn’t want him to hear how worried she was.

there was a beat of silence on the other end, and then his voice came through—tight, clipped, and gritted, like he was holding back more than just words. “where are you?”

something in his tone made her stand a little straighter. “what happened?” she asked quickly.

“just tell me where you are,” he said, not answering.

her brows knit together. “jay—”

“yn.” his voice was low now. firm. not quite angry, but not casual either. there was something in it that cut straight through her irritation and rooted itself in the pit of her stomach.

“i’m… on a date,” she admitted, the words almost awkward on her tongue.

there was no pause, no teasing remark, no biting comment about which loser she’d picked this time. just that same low, razor-sharp tone: “where?”

she swallowed, glancing back into the diner where jake was sipping his drink, completely oblivious. something in her felt cornered—not in a bad way, but in a way that made it impossible to tell him no.

she gave him the name of the diner, almost like muscle memory, and before she could tack on why? or what’s going on?, his voice cut in again.

“i’m on my way.”

click.

the line went dead, leaving her staring at her phone like it had just betrayed her.

her heart was hammering now, and she told herself it was from irritation, not from the weight in his voice. not from the knowledge that he was already on his bike, probably ignoring every speed limit between wherever he was and here. not from the part of her that knew—really knew—that whatever this was, it was about her.

she'd leaned against the low wall outside the station for nearly fifteen minutes. she had apologised to jake, saying she had to leave for something urgent and being the angel he is of course didn’t mind. they split the bill and he left as she waited outside the diner.

she scanned the street for the familiar deep green glint of his royal enfield. the roar of that bike had become something she could pick out of any crowd, and she’d been half-expecting to hear it before she even saw him. but instead, her eyes caught the glint of an uber logo as a sedan pulled up to the curb.

the back door swung open, and he stepped out—slowly. too slowly.

it took her all of two seconds to realise why. his left leg dragged slightly, a limp so pronounced she could see the hesitation in each step. his hair was messy, his shirt wrinkled and smudged with dirt in places, but it was his face that made her chest go tight. there were raw scratches cutting across his right eyebrow, a split blooming red along his bottom lip, and faint streaks of dried blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.

her stomach dropped as though the ground had been ripped from under her. she’d seen him beaten up before—more than once. but it had always been after the fact, when the swelling had gone down and the bruises had settled into dull purples and greens. never like this. never with the pain still fresh on his skin and the ache still visible in the way he moved.

by the time her brain caught up to her racing pulse, her feet were already moving.

“are you serious right now?” she hissed as she reached him, but her hands were anything but angry. one slid around his arm, the other supporting his lower back instinctively, steadying him before his limp could worsen. he gave her a sheepish glance, that lazy half-smile that usually charmed her, but now only made her chest tighten further.

“bench. now.” her voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

she practically guided him—no, dragged him—to the nearest bench under the streetlight, forcing him to sit before she even took her own breath. the lamplight caught on the small gash above his eyebrow, and the sting of tears burned behind her eyes.

“what the hell, do you have a death wish or something?” she snapped, her voice rising without her meaning to. “do you even know what you looked like walking out of that car? limping, bleeding, like you just—god, you can’t keep doing this!”

her words tumbled out too fast to catch, frustration and fear mixing into a storm that wouldn’t stop once it started. “you come back like this again and again and it’s always the same story—some fight, some chase, something that’s apparently worth throwing yourself into until you’re too bruised to even stand straight. you think i’m just going to keep sitting here watching you get torn apart? enough, okay? enough.”

she realised her hands were shaking—not from anger, but from the cold shock that had seeped into her the moment she saw him limp.

he didn’t interrupt her. not once. just sat there, leaning back slightly, his expression soft and oddly… fond. like she wasn’t yelling at him in the middle of the street, like she wasn’t practically vibrating with worry. it was almost infuriating, the way his gaze followed her every movement with that same quiet patience.

finally, her voice broke on the last word, and she let the silence fall.

she crouched down in front of him, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath against her face. her hands hovered near his jaw before gently tilting his head, eyes darting over each cut, each scrape, each bruise. “does it hurt?” she murmured, the sharpness in her tone replaced with something quieter.

“only a little,” he said, though the faint wince betrayed him.

she let out a disbelieving huff. “liar.”

before she could pull away, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic. “got this on the way,” he said, holding it out like a peace offering.

that made her pause—just long enough for a laugh to escape her despite herself. a quiet, exasperated little sound that shook her head. “you drive me crazy, you know that?” she muttered, taking the bottle from him.

his lip quirked upward. “yeah. but you still wait for me.” and she hated—absolutely hated—how true that was.

the sting of antiseptic hung in the air, sharp and sterile, as yn worked with quiet precision, dabbing at the cut just above his eyebrow. the streetlight above threw warm light over them, pooling across the slope of his cheekbone and catching in the faint sheen of sweat on his temple. he tried not to flinch — partly because it hurt like hell, and partly because he didn’t want her to think he couldn’t handle a little pain in front of her.

“so,” he said, as if the thought had just floated into his mind, “you were on a date tonight.”

it was deliberately casual, the kind of tone meant to sound uninterested, but the way his eyes flicked up to meet hers for half a second before darting away gave him away instantly. yn stilled for a fraction of a second, her fingers still hovering over his skin, before resuming her work.

“mm,” she murmured noncommittally, keeping her eyes on the cotton pad. “why do you care?”

“i don’t,” he replied too quickly, his voice dipping just slightly, a tell that made the corner of her mouth twitch upward.

she leaned back just enough to look at him fully, one brow raised. “right,” she said, drawing out the word, unconvinced. then she set the pad aside, reaching for the antiseptic again. “so why do call me whenever you need something?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, his lips tugging into the beginnings of a smirk. “you’re deflecting,” he pointed out, sounding almost smug.

her gaze sharpened — that soft, knowing look that somehow both challenged and disarmed him at the same time. it was the kind of look that made his chest feel too tight and his skin too warm. he let out a breath that turned into a low laugh, and then instantly hissed through his teeth as the movement pulled at the wound.

“god, you’re—” he cut himself off with a pained wince, his hand instinctively moving to cover hers where it rested against his jaw. “you always answer, you know that?” his voice dropped to something softer, something almost raw. “and my heart almost broke when you didn’t tonight. the first two times.”

she froze again, her fingers stilling under his touch. “why?” she asked quietly, the question slipping out before she could think to stop it.

he didn’t answer right away — just snorted softly, shaking his head like the answer should’ve been obvious from the start. then his gaze locked onto hers, steady and unflinching, and he spoke with the kind of certainty that made it hard to breathe.

“because i care about you,” he said simply. “i want only you.”

the words hung between them, heavy and unshakable, like they’d been waiting to be said for a long time. she blinked at him, blank and still, her mind racing to unpack what exactly that meant — whether it was a casual truth or something far more dangerous.

he must’ve seen the conflict in her eyes, because his shoulders rose and fell with a quiet sigh. then his hand slid up, fingers curling gently against her cheek. his thumb brushed just under her eye, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice a low murmur that seemed to anchor her in place.

“you’re going to kill me, baby,” he whispered, almost like it was a confession. “i care so deeply for you.”

yn’s hands resumed, almost reverently, as she dabbed at the small cuts and abrasions along jay’s face and hands. she didn’t say anything, letting the quiet of the night stretch between them.

jay watched her, chest tightening with each deliberate movement. her brow was slightly furrowed, her lips pressed in concentration, but her eyes softened every time they flicked to his face. it was quiet, but the silence spoke louder than any words. and for the first time that night, he felt a flicker of panic in his chest.

had he pushed her away?

had the truth, the sudden raw honesty of his feelings, scared her? the thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably. he knew he had to be careful, that this was delicate, fragile, like holding something that could shatter if gripped too tightly.

she finished with his last wound, gently dabbing the alcohol over a scrape near his lip. she lifted her hand, shaking off the excess onto the small tissue she held, and for a heartbeat, simply sat back, gazing at him. then, almost without warning, she leaned in.

her movement was soft, almost shy, deliberate enough that it wasn’t startling but unexpected enough to make his breath hitch. her lips brushed against the corner of his mouth—gentle, fleeting, but electrifying. jay felt a spark race through him, sharp and undeniable.

she pulled back just enough so that their noses brushed, close enough that he could feel her warmth and the faint scent of her hair mingling with the night air. her voice was quiet, low, almost tender, carrying a weight that made him hold his breath.

"stop roughhousing around," she whispered, voice laced with both exasperation and warmth, "and… be with me. please."

the words hit him with a force stronger than any punch or confrontation he had ever faced. the bench beneath him, the scratches across his face, the entire night—they all shrank into the background, leaving only her. her closeness, her scent, her voice—the way she looked at him with that mix of care and insistence that made his heart feel both heavy and light at the same time.

he blinked once, and then again, as if awakening from a haze. his lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, then pressed softly to her nose, an instinctive, tender response. it was a promise, a silent vow that he would stay, that he would be present, that he wouldn’t let this moment slip away.

her hands lingered on his shoulders, her fingers brushing against the collar of his shirt, grounding them both in the warmth of proximity. the world around them faded further: the diner’s neon glow, the distant traffic, even the chill in the air—all of it disappeared, leaving just the two of them on that battered wooden bench.

jay’s chest rose and fell more steadily now, though his heartbeat still thundered in his ears. he had wanted so badly to protect her, to be near her, and somehow, sitting like this, she had unknowingly let him in completely. his fingers twitched, almost on their own, until they rested lightly against the back of her neck, brushing strands of hair away. he didn’t move forward; he didn’t need to. she was there, and that was enough.

yn, for her part, allowed herself to lean just a fraction closer, her hands brushing against the faint cuts on his face as if mapping the proof of his recklessness, of his life lived on the edge. but there was no judgment now—only intimacy, the quiet understanding that they had always relied on each other in ways no one else could understand.

her eyes met his, steady and warm, and for a long moment, they simply breathed together on that bench. no words were needed. each small movement—the brush of her fingers against his skin, the soft pressure of his hand at her neck, the warmth of their noses brushing—was a declaration stronger than any speech.

finally, she leaned back just slightly, resting her forehead lightly against his temple. "promise me something," she murmured, her voice almost too soft to hear.

he lifted a brow, amused and tender at the same time. "anything."

"that you… stay out of trouble. at least for a little while," she said, teasing slightly, but her fingers didn’t leave his skin.

he chuckled, low and quiet, pressing his lips once more to the bridge of her nose again. "i’ll try," he promised, the warmth of the gesture anchoring both of them in the moment. "for you, i’ll try."

and for the first time all night, jay felt like he could finally breathe again—not because the danger was gone, not because his body was patched up, but because she was here. right here. and somehow, through the chaos and the scraped knees, the late-night calls, and reckless nights, she had reminded him that he wasn’t just surviving this world alone.

he always makes it on time, or before, managing to buy her favourite snacks to surprise her on the way back. the mothers talk while he waits in his chic black maserati, they smile to themselves when they see her run to him with saccharine giggles and he scoops her up.

jay— ideal employee and father— was convinced he was second to no one.

but today, god, he might be just speeding beyond limits, frantically looking at the time and at the road alternatively. he’s scared his darling daughter would be crying. he is never late— well, except once. it was a year ago, he was still new to managing work with her school days. she was sitting in the empty classroom alone with the teacher working on the side. the look on her face that day felt like a knife through his heart, and he promised to her that he would never be late again.

but then, today was the second time and he doesn’t know if his car is racing faster or his heart as he pulls up in front of the kindergarten. hurrying out of the car, he basically runs through the entrance, silently hoping and praying she doesn’t look lonely like the first time. he stops, taking a deep breath, eyes falling wide at the sight of his daughter.

she’s giggling, trying to kick the football. she looks up at you for validation at her poor attempt, a toothy grin adorning his face when you clap your hands. his lips erupt into an involuntary smile at the sight of you exhibiting a defeated frown— albeit dramatically— when jiyu scores a goal.

his heart skips a beat, she is his entire world, and she is happy, laughing, enjoying herself, and then it’s you— jiyu’s pretty teacher and his, well, dream girl. he doesn’t know why his heart has sped up anymore.

“papa!” the cute, little voice pulls him out of his trance, and his lips curl into a fond smile as he gets on one knee to embrace his little princess, greeting her with a kiss on the temple.

“hi, princess,” he caresses her cheeks, eyes going over the mess she has made out of her clothes. it’s going to be a tough time getting all that dirt and paint out but gosh, anything for her. with jiyu’s head on his shoulder, his eyes settle on you, and his face heats up again. “sorry for being late,”

he gives you a slight nod, a wordless thank you for looking after jiyu and a quiet apology for keeping you occupied. and when you return the smile back, he starts going crazy. even after having a fair share of women in his life, you have managed to bewitch him with pretty eyes and the ability to make his daughter smile.

actually, he has been crazy about you since day one, even before he had seen you, known you, heard you. he remembers how jiyu would eat his ears off while rambling about how pretty you are— she still does, except he listens and agrees with her like he has never heard any truer words in his life.

before, he got up early and dressed her up for school because education is important. now, it’s because he’s just as excited as jiyu to see you. education is still there— you have simply managed to make it seem less important.

“it’s fine, we had fun together. right, lovebug?” you assure, tickling jiyu’s sides as she yelps while swatting your hand away playfully.

and his heart aches in the best way when she gets out of his embrace to play with you. jay can swear he could melt into a puddle with how cute you both are, your laughs music to his ears, like a melody he has been missing for years. you can call him out on his lack of responsibility for being fashionably late to picking his daughter up and he would listen to it all with a fond gaze.

he stands up, holding the grayish-blue blazer in his hand, unable to take his eyes away from you, only to blink back to reality when jiyu tugs on his trousers.

“papa, i scored two goals today!” she chirps, eyes wide and gleaming in expectation for some compliments from her beloved father.

“really?” she nods proudly and jay grins like he is the one who made the goals. he is far too proud of his little girl. ronaldo should be glad jiyu is more interested in hello kitty colouring books. “let’s buy some treats to celebrate,”

“treats!” she exclaims before immediately getting distracted by a butterfly, running off to the side.

and it’s quiet again.

his hands are sweating, butterflies cartwheeling in his stomach. you’re telling jiyu to be careful not to trip and jay, he has already fallen for you once again. words can never be enough to express how much he appreciates you taking care of her.

the way wind blows through your hair makes him sigh in adoration, your eyes the brightest thing in existence, even more than the stars. and jay has never been the one to get sappy but he would write sonnets for you.

it’s getting awkward, aside from jiyu’s attempts to catch the butterfly and the visible concern written in your face. with a deep inhale, he musters up all his courage, the thump in his chest getting louder. “thank you for looking after her,”

and when you look at him with a warm smile, eyes crinkling up in crescents, he wants to melt in your hands the very moment. “no worries, it’s my job,”

even your voice resonates of a song sung by angels— he can’t believe he is thinking all that at his grown age. he wants to slap his face or bang his hand on the wall to pull himself together. but again, you make him want to write letters in your name. he’s a hopeless case.

“she likes you a lot,” i do too, he wants to add, but he controls. he is a grown man, for god’s sake, and here you have him blushing and swooning like a teenager having the first encounter with love. it’s crazy— just a month ago he was losing his mind over his daughter fawning over you and now, he’s doing the same.

his next words are interrupted by his dear daughter’s stubborn whines. he knew she would give up on the butterfly soon, stomping her tiny feet back to him. she’s already sold to the treats and nothing can calm her before she gets her hands on them.

“papa, let’s go! i want treats!” and jiyu, she is relentless, pulling his hand towards his car while he looks at you helplessly. patience is all he has ever taught her and she is everything that reminds him of his late wife.

he shoots an apologetic smile in your direction and lets her drag him to the car, knowing he can never say no when she gives those doe eyes to get him to fulfill her demands. her tiny hands grip around his fingers that taught her to walk and pull him in one direction while his heart gravitates in another— and this is just the beginning.

jay has been thinking.

with slow hands stirring the soup, his wandering mind has once again decided to go back to you. he can feel jiyu’s curious eyes scanning his face— she sighs like a middle aged adult— and he clears his throat with intention.

“so…what does your pretty miss like?” he is cautious, obviously trying to play it cool as if it’s completely normal for a parent to ask that. he does not want to show his exact intentions, at least not yet.

jiyu looks up from the colouring book in confusion, crayons scattered above the kitchen counter. she presses her lips together, as if having a deep thought. “um hello kitty! and strawberries!” a pause, she tilts her head to the right. “why?”

why.

good question, a damn good question with no answer. even he is wondering why. does he like you? everyone does, he’d be crazy to find you unlikeable. does he want you? yes— no! he slaps himself mentally.

he looks over at his daughter and she is humming one of her favourite rhymes while colouring the unicorns. it reminds him how you were holding her hand to guide her over the outlines, teaching her how to fill the colours properly. he also remembers how you had kissed her cheek since she did a good job, and he almost wanted you to kiss him too— jay wants to bang his head into a wall.

he wants to stop thinking about you, to save himself from spiralling into madness. it is clearly not working, so he goes back to his initial mission.

“can you ask what her favourite flower is?” his voice is a little more cautious this time, eyes fixed on the soup as if he doesn’t want to throw away everything and only talk about you.

she looks up again. “why?” and he groans internally.

gosh, do her questions ever end?

“it’s good to know your teacher,” he is trying so hard to make it sound weird. he turns off the stove, one hand on the counter as he leans against it. “and you can give her flowers to make her happy! you like her, don’t you?”

jiyu doesn’t respond, completely engrossed in her messy crayon drawing with the tongue sticking out in concentration.

and then, a quiet whisper follows. “i think papa likes her more,”

he winces internally at her words, not wanting to hear those words from her, out of all people. it makes him sound like he is in denial and trying to avoid the topic— even though he is, but he is not going to admit it.

is he being that obvious? he has barely known you for a little over a month— that too, only at school pickups and boring parents teachers meetings that he now loves to attend. yes, he accepts that he looks at you a little longer than he looks at everyone else. he doesn’t look at anyone else, only you. and it was going to be just you for a very, very long time.

“what no— i mean yes, but no!” he is panicking, losing his mind. the words are jumbled inside his head and the look on jiyu’s face tells that she knows his poor papa is having a quarter life crisis.

of course, he likes you. he likes your smile, your soft voice while you’re talking to the kids, your eyes and the way they sparkle all the time as if they hold the stars. jay likes you a lot, he’s just not ready to admit that out loud, especially not to his tiny, nosy, love-struck little matchmaker.

and unfortunately enough for him, she’s not waiting for a ‘yes’ from him. “you do! you get red when you see her! and you smile at her videos!” jiyu claims with full confidence— she is right.

his eyes crinkle up in crescents whenever he comes across one of your baking videos. when jiyu told him about your baking channel for the first time, he pictured his future with you. he thinks it’s destiny— he loves to cook, you love to bake— it’s a match made in heaven, a written in the stars type of love story.

his heart flutters at your cute cutelery, the pretty ceramics and adorable bowls. it’s adorable. he can’t even see your face, just the sound of your soothing voice is enough to ease his mind.

“that does not mean i like her, darling,” but jay is a father, first and foremost, before a loverboy lying to his daughter about his feelings. he doesn’t need his six year-old walking special agent to know about the feelings bubbling in his chest.

at least, not yet.

jiyu gets back to her colouring book, shaking her pretty little head like a tired parent. it’s unbelievable that he refuses to accept it even after she has called out his red face whenever you are around. raising a dad is hard, she would say, he is always in denial.

and she is definitely going to do something about it. “lilies are pretty,” she mumbles, not looking up from her colouring book but she knows she has all his attention. “you like lilies too!”

it makes hundred percent sense in her tiny brain that’s working overtime.

jay likes lilies, he gives you lilies, you end up liking lilies too— she hopes you will— you both bond over lilies and get closer and kiss. it’s the perfect scheme ever, she has seen it in one of the princess movies. well, not exactly, because the flowers were magical but nonetheless, she hopes the lilies do the work.

she’s devising a masterplan and jay— he knows just where to get the flowers from. he doesn’t need to be asked twice. pretty pink lilies wrapped in a bouquet with a ribbon. he’s already trying to come up with words to add onto a little note by the side.

pink lilies are for admiration. yeah, this is a great start.

jiyu is on a mission.

tiny hands holding a pot of lilies, brows furrowed, she looks at her father who is crouching in front of her. “give this to pretty miss,”

her shoulders are heavy with responsibility, she absolutely cannot mess this up. her tiny hands hold the small plant, and also jay’s pipeline to a love story with you but let’s not dwell into the details.

she nods firmly, way too interested in this little cupid act that she has gotten into. this has to be the most important day in her whole six years of life. her hold tightens on the pot, and she speaks with resolution. “will do!”

he sighs, fixing her ponytail. “and what do you say?”

“flowers are good and make you happy!” and dear heavens, jay has never been so proud of this little angel he has. honestly, he does feel a little silly for dragging her into his mess, but it was impossible to keep her out. she suggested the lilies and he knows she wouldn’t shut up about them until they have reached you safe and secure.

she has eyes as keen as an eagle and he is an open book.

she waves him goodbye, walking through the pink and blue entrance of the school and frowning at everyone who tries to touch the flower. her steps are laced with determination, wanting to do this right and make her father proud.

she walks to the class, flaunting the brand new hello kitty keychain on her bag pack. she was going to brag about it later. now, her eyes land on you as you arrange the books, and she approaches you with the puppy dog eyes that make the stars sigh in unison.

“pretty miss!” her cute voice makes you turn on your heel, a gasp falls off your lips as she holds the pot up and gives you her characteristic toothy smile. “for you!”

she’s shooting sparkles with her eyes that are looking at you eagerly for a reaction. it’s making you feel so many things at once, are you even supposed to take a gift from a student? you’re not sure, but you don’t have it in you to reject her surprise when she is looking at you with that grinning face.

“for me?” you look at the plantlet, and then at the excitement on her face as she hands it to you, her adorable eyes brimming with anticipation that you would like the gift. “why?”

“flowers are good!” she is beaming with cheerfulness, hands together and lips curved into the brightest smile. she is so proud of herself, almost imagining her dad patting her back and giving her all the chocolates. “papa told me to— oops!”

and the next second, her tiny hands fly over to her mouth, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. a gasp, she tries to blink the surprise away, gears turning inside her little head to come up with the best excuses. she cannot afford to mess this up. it’s about her papa and her pretty teacher— better than any princess story she has ever read.

you giggle at her innocent slip-up, the way her fingers fidgeting together in nervousness. you crouch to her level, gently placing the pot of lily on your work desk. “your father sent these?”

this is like her nightmare coming true. she can already see her father sighing disappointedly— no more spying, no more missions— her bottom lip is quivering at the mere thought of it.

“no!” and she shakes her head vigorously, try her very best to prove that it is not the case. “it’s a secret,”

you can barely enquire more before she runs off to her seat, successfully getting distracted by her friend’s cinnamoroll keychain. meanwhile, your eyes settle on the plant, the single flower that’s still about to reach its full bloom. there’s a bud next to it, small stars painted intricately on the ceramic pot. there’s a hello kitty sticker too— you know exactly who put it there.

you can hardly stop yourself from smiling, even when you’re supposed to go over the basic mathematics right now. your eyes inadvertently fall upon the beautiful white flower kept in the sunlight, the sight causing a slight flutter in your chest as warmth crept up your cheeks.

frankly, you have never thought about a parent of your students in such a way. it’s a little bashful, not to mention, unprofessional. although, something about jay makes you want to forget all those things and throw the cognition out of the window.

you see reflections of him in jiyu— the lovely smile, the way her eyes close when she laughs, her mannerisms, the slight raise in her brows when she is focused, and she is confident just like him, walking in as if she owns the room.

you don’t like working overtime but staying a little longer to look after jiyu is out of the equation. she’s cute, after all, and so is her dad, who shows up with an apologetic smile and tousled hair to pick her up. his eyes speak of exhaustion yet never running out of the love he harbours for her. his suit jacket is always on his forearm, tie a little loose and messy.

it doesn’t escape your attention the way his ears go red while talking to you and he avoids meeting your eyes. at this point, you don’t know if you’re staying late to look after jiyu or to catch a glimpse of her very attractive dad.

you continue with your duties, which certainly don’t include looking forward to meeting a certain someone but you end up counting down the minutes until the school hours end. parents teacher meetings are draining but when it’s with him, you find it oddly enjoyable. getting distracted was rather usual now, it was impossible to stop thoughts about him from flooding into your mind.

one quiet moment and your thoughts go back to him. it certainly didn’t help that jiyu mentioned him every few minutes— ‘my papa is the best—’ yeah, and you think so too.

much to your disappointment, you get caught up in a conversation with another parent to even see him, and it really pained to bid jiyu goodbye all alone and not walk her to the exit. it’s as if the universe isn’t on your side either because he arrived on time to pick up his little angel— fifteen minutes earlier in fact.

you could only watch him from a distance as he scooped her up in his arms and showered her with kisses, barely able to focus on the conversation at hand. and it melts your heart at the way jiyu waves you goodbye before resting her head on his shoulder as he carries her to his car, disappearing in the crowd of cheerful kids and yearning parents.

his hands are full of promised snacks and a surprise chocolate mousse patisserie that she loves to death. he can imagine his late wife scolding him for spoiling their daughter, but he can’t say no when she is looking at him with the very eyes he fell in love with ten years ago.

he shakes his head with a sigh, following jiyu’s tiny steps inside the house, calling out from behind. “careful!”

she’s a menace through and through, a treats monster on tiny feet that seemingly never gets tired even after school. he’s closing the door behind him and she stumbles on the way to the couch— his heart leaps out of his chest. even after six years, nothing can get him used to her energetic spirit that rules the entire house and has him dancing on her palms.

“snacks!” she claps her hands together, bouncing on the couch with happiness. it’s all she cares about, he doesn’t have to know about her little blunder in the plan. she can’t wait to have her papa-jiyu playtime where they both have snacks and share secrets.

and then she jumps down from the couch, restlessly running to him as she pulls her sparkly purple bag from his arm and shuffles through the colouring books and notebooks to pull out a pink envelope, basically shoving it into his face. “pretty miss gave this for you,”

his pulse increases at the simple mention of your name, and the fact that you send him an envelope— it feels like setting fire to his nerves. his shaky hands hold it cautiously, as if it’s worth millions. actually, to him, it does.

jay tilts his head— it’s exactly where jiyu gets that habit from— and he blinks at the sunflower sticker on top of the envelope. it makes him smile, you’re way too similar to jiyu when it comes to cute stickers and the colour pink.

he pulls out a small card from inside, and written on it is a small note which he can’t even read since the words are falling blind to his eyes. he is way too busy admiring your handwriting, the slight cursive that is just so you.

‘thank you for the lilies. they’re beautiful. ps. jiyu is bad at keeping secrets.’

and it happens again.

the jumbling of words inside his mind, heart beating relentlessly. he doesn’t know if he should consider his plan a success or failure— at least you have the lilies, he reassures himself, trying to hide his face behind the card that he knows is going to the safest locker in his cupboard.

and jiyu looks at him in confusion. “papa, you’re red again,”

OO2 TOOTH & NAIL

“papa,” she whispers in her cute voice, gesturing to him with her tiny hands to bend down to her level. “he gave her coffee,”

it’s not a known fact but jay and jiyu can pass for spies, or maybe they became one after he picked her up and saw another man approach you with what seemed like coffee.

this isn’t how things were supposed to go, but life is unpredictable. it was going to be an afternoon full of healthy vegetable sandwiches followed by ice cream and a movie of jiyu’s choice. well, that is until a certain someone reached you out with coffee right in front of him and jay felt like he was being challenged for a duel.

even she is engrossed— eyes squinted and fixed, she is judging that man with all her four feet and two inches. her face scrunches up— he’s not even that good-looking, not more than her prince of a father. no amount of spy missions to find cookies in the kitchen with her dad ( that he hid, by the way ) could measure up to this moment.

this just might be the most important mission of her entire life.

“come on, sweetheart. we should go home,” he buckles her seatbelt and turns on the ignition, and she nods like a commander in action.

she turns to her dad, eyes determined. the mission is clear— you’re a princess in danger, needing to be saved from the monster who lures people with coffee. her dear papa is the knight in shining armour, it’s exactly how the stories go. “are you going to fight?”

and jay scoffs, contradictory to the rules of disney. he huffs like this entire thing has nothing to do with him, even though his knuckles turn white with how firmly he is gripping the steering. “what? no!”

jay is indeed going to fight. tooth and nail.

he feels stupid for having these emotions— the butterflies, a crush, and the jealousy that seeps through his skin, drop by drop, every time he thinks about what happened earlier. the picture of you with he who shall not be mentioned is ingrained in his mind. eyes open, eyes closed, he sees you and him, and the thought that follows leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

‘do you like him? is he your boyfriend?’

jay prefers to ignore the latter.

you did look happy when he gave you the coffee and your lips had curved up in the same beautiful smile that melts his heart every single time, even in his wildest dreams. he has never been so restless and nervous. his mouth is going dry as the seconds pass— tick-tock, tick-tock— she inhales sharply, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

jay— the epitome of confidence and composure, is losing his cool because you interact with other men.

you and him are barely anything, and even if you were, you can talk to anyone you want. he knows that in all the right corners of his mind, even though his thoughts probably make him seem like a madman. hell, even he is surprised but he gets crazy when you’re the one driving.

his eyes go over the counter again— flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla, blueberries, baking powder, spatula, butter, milk, some more— all check. and then he gets to the matter at hand.

“do you think she likes cookies?” he asks jiyu, who is once again sitting on her high chair at the counter, making puzzles. “or muffins. everyone likes muffins,”

and she doesn’t even look up, tongue sticking out as she’s trying to figure out which piece goes where— a quiet mumble falls off her lips. “you can ask her,”

“no!” he shrieks and almost drops the spatula. “that’s a no, princess,”

the thought of you being aware of his stupid plans haunts him.

jay cannot think about asking your likes and dislikes without cringing on the inside and dying a little. you’re jiyu’s teacher, for god’s sake, even though that hasn’t stopped him from imagining you had his girlfriend and giggling under the blanket.

well, he hopes you like muffins. you have made a video about it, the one he watched religiously last night. it wasn’t in his best plans to woo you with his impeccable skills in the kitchen, but jay absolutely cannot let another man win you over while he sits with his hands tied.

he purses his lips in deep thought while absentmindedly tracing the rim of the bowl with his finger, and jiyu notices it all. she sees the way her dear father sighs every few seconds, wiping his sweaty hands on the apron.

the puzzle is gone, long forgotten. instead, she puts her elbow on the counter and rests her pretty face on tiny hands— an interrogation. “papa, are you scared?”

he scoffs.

he whips his head in her direction.

sacred? he is offended, it’s written all over his face. jay is the hero of all her midnight action stories, he is her spiderman who saves her from the monster octopus and superman who defeats carrots and capsicums.

he hasn’t been scared in years— okay, well, he did have a first hand encounter with fear every time he was late to pick jiyu up from school— but that is all. he has told her all about his great acts of bravery ( bungee jumping, swimming and riding a rollercoaster ) and it is like a dagger to his heart to hear her say that him, out of all the people, is scared.

he puts his hand over his heart that just cracked a little because his lovely daughter thought he was scared. a beautiful woman with pretty eyes and adorable smile hasn’t got anything on him.

sacred wouldn’t even be the last word he would use to describe himself.

“papa is never scared, darling,” he leans over the counter to boop her nose, lips flaunting a prideful grin.

and jiyu tilts her head adorably, the stars in her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “are you going to kiss pretty miss?”

jay feels the flutter in his chest again.

the thought of kissing you, you— his hands are shaking already. it is a dream come true for him. you look like an angel bestowed upon the earth, he would fall apart a thousand times before his lips touch yours.

and when they finally do, he would turn into angel dust blessed by your touch.

god, he is writing poetry about you in his head, seeing you in the flowers and the stars, in every beautiful thing in existence. jay is putting shakespeare to shame with his devotion, even though he can’t believe this is who he actually is.

he shakes his head, hands on waist and all, his squinted eyes shooting playful glares to his lovely daughter. “where are you learning all this from?”

“princess story! the prince and princess kiss and they live together!” and she is ever so excited, almost jumping on her seat. her grip tightens over her bunny plushie with anticipation. “if you kiss her, will she live with us?”

her words strike a certain cord in him— he is feeling a lot of things at once.

it’s yearning, perhaps, a longing for something he wants, something that he had before and lost through the cracks in his very palms that promised a happy future. jay was sure he would never fall for anyone else but here he was, already on the ground for you. he was scared for jiyu but she felt the safest with you, as if she had known you for an entire lifetime.

all his questions lead to you, all his answers are in you. his mind pushes him into pits of doubt while his heart pulls him out by the mere thought of you.

his hands are still shaking— but, he swears to hold yours ever so tenderly with his hesitant fingers. he would hold your heart like it’s glass and surrender himself to you.

that is, if you let him.

“i don’t know,” he sighs, adding extra choco chips to the batter. “that’s for her to decide, angel,”

after all, jay can only hope and pray.

“more glitter!” jiyu has the entire apartment up her shoulders, her tiny yet assertive voice ordering jay around like a poor employee under a cold-hearted boss.

he looks at the clock in worry, his little boss has no concept of time. “angel, that’s enough—”

“no, you have to make it pretty!” she exclaims with her glittery hands, grabbing yet another sparkly pen from her collection. “we need more glitter and heart and hello kitty stickers,”

the entire bed is filled with stickers, colourful pens and whatnots. he feels the headache approaching— he did not wake up an hour earlier than usual and cleaned the entire bedroom only to do it again after makes a mess of everything again.

jay isn’t quite sure if he should be worrying or not, she refuses to get ready for school without finishing their super secret ‘operation : save pretty teacher’ formulated by the one and only, park jiyu.

he only watched in defeat as she decorates the card— more glitter, more stars, more hello kitty— her tongue is poking out in concentration. jay thinks it’s genetic.

and then she shoves the paper in his face, wanting honest feedback, which means lots of compliments in her language.

“we should write a note,” jay presses his lips together, trying to come up with something. nothing too weird or forward, just nice and sweet like you.

jiyu claps her hand, chiming “say you want to marry her!” like it’s the best thing she has come up with in the six years of her life. it is, in fact, the most brilliant idea her tiny six year mind has thought of.

“stop it,” his heart is racing again— he is almost imagining you in a wedding gown already. he clears his throat as if jiyu’s words didn’t make his brain short circuit for a good few minutes. “okay. write ‘have a good day, pretty miss,”

and jay thinks he is smart.

making jiyu write his words in her adorably messy handwriting to make you believe that this was definitely not his idea and he certainly did not sit through the whole process of her making a greeting card for you. he was never the courageous one, not while confessing to his late wife, neither to you. although, he does feel a little more certain this time— it’s simply your magic.

she finishes up writing and he slides the pink card in the envelope ever so effortlessly— both of them sharing a prideful grin.

mission, half successful.

jiyu is on a mission once again.

part two of the same, truthfully. she strides forward with purposeful steps, confident that she is not going to mess this up like last time.

a spy never discloses secrets of their partner. she is going to have her mouth zipped up, locked.

she places the box of muffins and the envelope on your desk with her tippy toes, finding satisfaction in the way your face morphs from confusion into pleasant surprise.

“again?” you marvel at the fragrance of freshly baked muffins and she stands with hands on her sides, proud and victorious. “you don’t want to share them with your friends?”

“no! papa said this is only for you!” and it happens again, her brows rising up in shock. it doesn’t hit her until her small hands are over her mouth, wanting to take her words back. “that was a secret…”

you fail to bite back a giggle as her precious face flushes red, eyes moving all around except at your face. she cannot believe she screwed the missing again— she might just not get that hello kitty merch now.

you take a look at the pastel yellow box of muffin again, the cute marshmallow design bringing a smile to your lips. it’s evident that jiyu picked it herself. you know her enough to know she is just three things— hello kitty, marshmallows and strawberries— mostly.

“thank you, sweetheart,” you ruffle his hair, the pout on her lips only making you want to pull her into a hug. too bad, you have a job, otherwise you wouldn’t mind spending the whole day simply admiring her adorable face.

it’s the same process all over again— the envelope on your desk, jay’s handsome face in your mind, and the secret not-to-be-told that had slipped off jiyu’s lips ringing in your ears. your hands are itching to open the envelope, with utmost care, nonetheless. you would go over every crease and fold with a smile, maybe even kick your feet under the duvet while you’re giggling at every other word and scribble like you did last time.

jay has you falling for him just as deep as he has fallen for you, if not more.

butterflies house in your chest at the mere thought of him. it’s utterly unprofessional and disgustingly cute, and you haven’t even had a proper conversation with him where he is not jiyu’s father and you aren’t her teacher.

you don’t think you know him anymore than jiyu brags about— his maserati, the fact that they both have matching hello kitty headbands and that he is very, very good in the kitchen. you do want to know him more. perhaps, his favourite colour, or the book he likes.

maybe, how his hand would feel in yours— you drop the chalk amidst thinking about jay and spelling a word on the blackboard. you are going crazy, and you don’t think you want to get better anytime soon.

by the time school hours end, you make it your goal to walk jiyu to her dad yourself. the simple thought is making your heart race so fast, you can hear it echo in your ears.

and then you see him— gray suit, black locks slicked back. he is frantically trying to fix it as he catches your sight, and you chuckle under your breath, not missing the shy smile on his lips.

jay shines like gold in the setting sun, or perhaps it’s his own glow drawing you in. you are like a planet to the sun, always finding yourself revolving in orbits around him. you feel a similar flutter in your chest when he hugs jiyu like she’s his entire world— which she is.

and your breath gets caught up in your throat when his eyes finally meet yours. you notice the way he fumbles a few words again, you wonder if he knows you’re no better either.

“thank you for the muffins,” you manage to say, soft and sweet, it sounds like melodies to him. “how did you know blueberry is my favourite flavour?”

“just a lucky guess,” he says, trying to play it cool, knowing very well he scrolled through your channel to know your preferences. he knows you don’t like pineapple while chocolate is your second favourite. you’re trying to learn how to make mousse cakes and lobotomy wouldn’t even touch him because in his head, jay is already picturing the two of you baking it together.

“papa stayed up all night to bake! i helped too!” jiyu chimes in with a proud smile while jay is actively trying to disappear into the floor. she stayed up despite his hesitation, he did not want to risk her getting late to school. and now, it’s dreadful as well, because she can recite his crashouts from the night before word to word.

you grin at her words, ruffling her hair and almost melting at the contact when she leans into your touch. “no wonder they were delicious,”

“he also said your handwriting is pretty and it made his heart do a funny beat—”

and his hand flies over her tiny mouth that can’t keep secrets at all, while his face is red from the way you are looking at him. “don’t mind her,”

you swear, your heart just did a funny beat.

it’s the way he pulls her back and hushes her frantically that has you laughing under your breath. you shake your head at the pout on jiyu’s lips while he scolds her in the softest voice. he’s freaking out while trying not to be obvious about it and it’s the cutest family scene ever.

jay barely waits for another second before offering you a polite bow and walking towards his car.

“jay,” and you can hardly think before his name rolls off your tongue as if it has become a habit. “do you have something to say?”

you don’t know what you’re aiming for here.

maybe, you’ve been watching too many romcoms and reading too much into his little actions— it sounds stupid to you, even. the lilies, muffins, glittery cards and scribbled hearts can mean only one thing.

you still want to hear it from him to relieve all your doubts.

and before he could ever find words, jiyu already had a big grin on her face and eyes gleaming with impatience. “yes! papa likes—”

jay wants the earth to explode or something.

“would you look at the time? we should get going,” he drags his dear daughter to the car, ears red, cheeks flushed, barely having the courage to look you in the eye after the stunt jiyu pulled.

nonetheless, it told you exactly what you wanted to know.

you big goodbyes to other kids once the two of them are out of sight, and jay exhales heavily with his hands on the steering wheel as if he made it out of a death ring by an inch.

he looks over at his daughter who is sitting with her tiny arms crossed over her chest and the cutest frown dancing on her lips. jay knows he might have to buy an entire bakery to make it up to her.

it’s moments like this that remind him that she is much like her mother when it comes to mannerisms. she would have showered her in kisses as an apology but for now, jay will stick to bribing her with sweets if it means he can save image in front of you.

“never, ever, and i mean ever, say that in front of her,” he’s firm, soft, but also says it like a plea, like his whole life depends on that small mouth that holds big secrets.

“but it’s true! you like her!” she retorts, loud and proud. simply hearing it from her gives him a mini heart attack. “you tell her that and kiss and we live together— it’s easy!”

and jay had spent afternoons bickering with his wife that their daughter would take after him in some aspects. now, it’s biting him back since she inherited his stubborn attitude and refusal to give up.

he shifts the gears, hitting acceleration. “you’ll know when you grow up, little miss,”

and she huffs, brows furrowed. “i’m a big girl!”

OO3 MASTERPLAN

jiyu does believe she is a big girl. she’s six, big number, she can do additions in her mind and help her dear father write love letters because he is too much of a scaredy cat.

she has her lips zipped, not speaking a word about him to you for the next few days. no, she isn’t upset. it’s all a part of her big, masterplan. he didn’t spend the saturday night with a torch light under her space blanket for nothing.

the crumbled sheets of her drawing copy still lie in the trash can in her room, titled with ‘papa insert a poorly drawn heart pretty teacher’ and then scribbled off when she couldn’t devise a plan.

she didn’t give up, though, that word does not exist in her not so vast vocabulary yet. she stayed up all night looking at the glowy stars on her ceiling, lips pressed together, and then finally fisting her tiny hands with determination.

jiyu is tired of her dad fumbling every chance so she takes matters in her own tiny, glittery hands.

it’s just another busy afternoon at work for him and he’s picking jiyu up late again, warm coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled. he still remembers the first time he had arrived late and she was sitting alone, small legs dangling off the bench.

it was before you had joined and even though he knows you would sit next to jiyu the whole time while she’s waiting for him, it still doesn’t do much to ease his worries. if there’s one thing he hates, it’s to keep his little girl waiting.

you’re kneeling beside her cubby helping her zip up her hoodie, when he hurries inside with heavy breaths and a relieved smile at the sight of you next to jiyu.

“sorry,” he almost forgetting to breath when you smile at him, finding it hard to think straight when your eyes are on him. “i hit every red light,”

“all good,” you stand up, laughing when jiyu runs up to him and wraps her arms around his legs. “we were just having a fashion crisis,”

“papa,” jiyu says suddenly— her voice high, sweet, dangerously casual. there’s a certain glint in her eyes and god, it sets his heart off on a nervous journey. “did you know that pretty miss’ new video got so many views!”

he was almost expecting her to say something risky again— she can’t keep secrets for the life in her. although, her words bring a wave of relief to him. at least she isn’t planning to pull any stunts— for now. jay tugs her backpack over one shoulder and tilts his head. “did it?”

and he does it so innocently as if he wasn’t one of the earliest viewers in your new video, clicking the notification as soon as you posted it. he had already imagined your pretty face morphed in happiness when he saw your new video reach above a million views by the morning— yes, he opened youtube as soon as he got up.

“yes!” she exclaims, a little too excited, her ponytail swaying as she turns to you with a big grin. “papa is a big fan,”

you blink. “what?”

jay freezes, palms sweating as realisation dawns upon him. jiyu looks way too happy with no sign of wanting to stop on her face. her sharp tongue knows no bounds and he is already shaking his head in your direction to save whatever little image he has in front of you.

“i am not—” he starts, voice cracking slightly.

“yes you are!” jiyu intervenes brightly, pointing fingers and shooting daggers with her sweet giggles. “you watched the muffin video many times while making dinner, and you said you liked her voice and then you got all quiet and weird,”

the muffin video, god, jay wishes he could go back to that night and put his detective of a daughter to sleep. he thinks he’s hopeless, truthfully. he had no reason to watch your tutorial on baking muffins— he knows how to bake. he knew the ingredients even before you had gone over their names and proportions, and he remembers exactly how he had gone from sitting on the couch with his legs crossed to curling up in the corner with a cushion in his arms.

his little grin stayed hidden behind the cushion, one that grew wider every time you had smiled. you haven’t even done a face reveal on your channel but he can hear your pretty smiles flowing in your honeyed voice. you have him hooked, he scrolls through your videos even at work. jay can bet his secretary thinks he needs professional help because he keeps smiling while looking at the plain, white walls.

you stare at jay, wide eyed and at a loss of words.

and he stares at the floor like it personally betrayed him. it’s so over for him. his hand flies to his face, a heavy sigh falling of his lips, and he looks at you with pretty eyes brimming with panic. “i— okay, that’s not what happened,”

“you smiled in it,” jiyu continues, still cheerful, not wanting to stop anytime soon. she has one job— expose her lovely father because he is too much of a coward. “and he was smiling at the phone. papa is so silly!”

he can’t even look at you right now, just wanting the ground to swallow him whole or something. the sun can explode and he wouldn’t even mind. silly is not even on the list of words he would want you to describe himself as but maybe, that’s who he is— silly, some sort of loser who is hopelessly in love and impossibly shy to admit it to his crush.

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “very silly,” your words are like a gentle jab to his heart, still not wanting to believe silly is what he is to you. “but kind of sweet,”

okay— now, he is not sure if he wants to disappear or melt at your feet. you called him sweet, it sounds like wedding bells to him. he looks over at you, you don’t look that upset at this revelation. you don’t look upset at all, not even a sliver of disgust on your face. maybe, this isn’t the end of the world. perhaps, he has a chance, or perhaps, you’re going to sit and make fun of him with your friends later over some drinks and chips.

his eyes widen, jay lets out a noise like a dying animal at the mere thought of that.

he looks over at his daughter, who is finding amusement in his misery and laughing under her tiny palms over her mouth. it’s like a game to her, one that she is winning by sacrificing her father.

“i’m gonna ban all screen time in our house,” he mutters, grabbing her arm to pull her out and away from here and just take her home. today’s father-daughter evening was going to be about an elaborate discussion on how to not embarrass your father in front of his crush. so much for big girl talks.

but jiyu pulls out of his grip immediately, helplessly adding “he gets shy when i talk about you,” with a giggle in her chirpy voice, loud and excited. “he says you have the prettiest laugh,” and at this point, he isn’t even doing it deliberately.

words flow out of her mouth like the poems she had learnt to recite to her grandparents. her eyes shine the brightest at this moment, followed by the smile that has you hooked to everything she says. jiyu had waited for this moment since forever, wanting to talk about him and you— the greatest love story in the making.

he exhales with a flare— or a plea. “jiyu,”

she shoots him glares as if it makes her pretty, doe eyes any less adorable. and you’re covering your mouth now, shoulders shaking, not sure whether to laugh or awe at his red face. your hands are aching to hold his flustered face in your palms and tell him so softly how much you want to kiss him.

jay gives you a look— half-mortified, half-defeated. his hair is tousled from the amount of times he has ran his fingers through them. “she’s lying. she’s six. no one believes six-year-olds,”

and jiyu gasps, tilting her head at him with an exaggerated pout. “you also said you like miss—”

“okay,” jay cuts in, clapping his hands and pulling her back by her bagpack. he was not going to let her drop the bomb like that. “time to go. say goodbye. we’re getting late,”

you’re barely keeping it together at their back and forth. he is basically pulling her towards the door and she keeps resisting, fighting with her pouty lips and squinty eyes.

you almost want to stop her and confront him yourself, wanting to see him squirm and stutter under your gaze until he has turned into a puddle. it’s cruel, you feel like the villains in his fake princess stories that jiyu tells you about. the idea is tempting, but you end up waving at jiyu. “bye, lovebug.”

“bye, pretty miss!” she sings sweetly, hello kitty keychain dangling off her bagpack. “tell papa you like him back!”

jay groans, practically scooping her up and backs out of the room. he can never face you after this. he’s already thinking about other good schools he can transfer jiyu to.

honestly, if it wasn’t for jiyu, you would think jay and you would still be exchanging muffins like highschoolers. unlike him, this is probably the best day you’ve had at work, and you call out to them to make it even better. “tell him his face is red again!”

and jay groans audibly down the hallway, not wanting to believe he’s still breathing through all this— and unfortunately so.

OO4 TO BELONG

jay thinks he is the unluckiest person alive.

absolutely doomed by the heavens, not even the higher deities are on his side. resigning from his job and moving to the countryside would be better. at least, he wouldn’t have to face you after the majestic event his daughter pulled the last time he saw you.

frankly, he has been avoiding you the whole week. he arrives at the school pickup on time, waiting until his little girl comes running and then he drives away with her before you can even approach him. it doesn’t make him feel any less shitty than he did for not attending the parents teacher meeting. he bailed out with some work excuse— he’s sure you’re perceptive enough to catch his lies.

jay wasn’t going to avoid you forever. he’s simply waiting for the right time. and timing be damned, because he had to have an important meeting on a weekday and his fingers were shaking over your contact. cherry on top— jiyu’s nanny had to get sick today and the neighbours had to go on a family dinner when he needed them the most. he is so sure this is an elaborate scheme to ruin his life.

this was a bad idea. yeah, why would you want to do anything with him after what happened last time? you probably think of him as some crazy, obsessed freak. it’s probably your courtesy that he doesn't have a restraining order on him yet. he’s highly expecting it anytime soon.

‘this is a bad idea,’ he thinks, but then freaks out when he clicks on the call button. worse— it connects immediately and his mind haywires, forgetting the entire concept of words and vocabulary.

“jay?” he gulps at the sound of your voice, looking at the potted plant in his office as if that succulent was going to start speaking. “jay, are you there?”

“uh— ” he wants to rip his hair out because of the weird sound he just let out. he shifts in his leather seat, fingers clutching around the phone like a lifeline. “hi,”

great.

he’s pretty sure his voice is nothing less than that of an animal shrieking in pain. he cannot believe it’s this same mind that signs off million dollar deals and can’t even hold a normal conversation with a beautiful woman.

okay, jay, breathe. this is not the end of the world. you’re just another woman— he wants to marry you, but that’s another story. besides, there’s always an option to move to the countryside and have a corn farm.

“i hate to ask this but i’m stuck in a meeting,” a pause, he’s testing the waters. a reply, anything, from you that tells him that you’re still with him. and when you don’t speak, he simply continues with dread setting deeper in his chest. “it’s going to take the whole evening. would you—?”

“of course,” you say immediately and he thinks you’re god. “i’ll take her to my place. you can rest assured,”

he practically melts in his work chair, letting out a breath that he has been holding for the past twenty minutes. you’re his saviour, like the light at the end of the tunnel. and for some reason, he feels more assured than he did when he left jiyu with anyone else before you.

he thinks he might have fallen for you once again.

he sighs in relief. “thank you— and i’m sorry for putting this on you on such a short notice,”

“it’s fine, i don’t mind spending time with her,” and you sound like you are in a hurry. you’re at the school, after all. you probably have some toddlers at each other’s hair judging from the cry he heard in the background. “i have to go— i’ll text you my address so you can pick her up later,”

“yeah—” he can barely finish his words before you hang up, and he only stares at the black screen in admiration with a dreamy smile, mumbling to himself. “thanks,”

if jay had to choose a superpower, it would be time control.

yeah, they’ve gone over this before— him and jiyu— she had picked invisibility so she could steal all the cookies. as childish as it sounds, he really wishes superpowers were real. if you hadn’t already started disliking him for his poor tricks to hit on you, he is so sure you would hate him for his absolute disaster of time management.

a blazing horn, tires screech, he whips the steering to the right— a near miss. his heart échos in his ears while his leg is still resting over the brake. the last thing he needs today is to see his death. it has to be the worst day he has ever had.

even finally pulling up in front of your apartment complex doesn’t make things better. he almost forgets to lock his car. seventh floor, unit 723— he remembers that like the back of his hand. jay barely has any time to lose before he barely waits for five seconds in front of the lift before deciding to take the stairs.

jay is convinced this is bigger than any gym workout he has ever done. hell, the two-hundred meters race on father’s day at jiyu’s school feels like a joke. he can barely feel exhaustion setting it, the urgency to see his dear princess lies second to none, even if his legs are starting to feel like jelly.

he feels like he has aged three years while running up seven floors, and simultaneously has gained ten years of lifespan when he sees your unit in sight. he rings the bell, knocks, one hand up the walls to catch his breath.

and when you finally open the door, it’s like a flood gate of words turned open. “i’m sorry. the meeting went on longer than expected and then the traffic—”

“jay, breathe,” you interrupt, half amused and half concerned. you’re trying not to feel guilty of finding him hot even now— he can barely breathe, for gods sake, but your eyes refuse to look anywhere except the glimpse of clavicle near the collar of his shirt. “you look like you ran all the way up,”

“yeah, i took the stairs—” the way he says it with huffs of breaths makes you feel bad, but you end up letting out an amused chuckle in the end. “elevators were taking too long,”

you want to hug his worries away, even though that sounds like a far dream. his hair sticks to his forehead due to sweat and you almost imagine yourself sitting next to him and tending to him with gentleness.

you watch the way his eyes scan your apartment restlessly even before he has walked past the doorway, trying to get a glimpse, a sight— you know exactly what will put his heart to ease.

“jiyu is fine. she just fell asleep,” your heart flutters as you watch your words ease his mind, and your lips break into a warm smile as you continue. “took her three bedtime stories even after playing all evening,”

you step aside and let him walk inside, and jay lets out a loud gasp at the sight of the living room— messy, opened paint bottles and brushes around with loose sheets. it looks like a disaster, he considers getting on his knees to apologise.

his eyes inadvertently move to your face and now that he looks at you again, better, you look happy, covered in glitter and cute stickers— he knows jiyu put that strawberry sticker on your cheek— and jay is swooning.

“well, we were painting,” he can hear the smile in your voice and his heart does a sommersault. his chest aches to see you playing with jiyu. “i’ll clean at up later,”

“i’ll help,” he immediately turns to you and there it is, the sparkle in his eyes, the one that you have gotten used to seeing whenever he comes to pick jiyu up after school. the sparkle that you have always wanted to see for a little longer but couldn’t because he cannot meet your eyes for longer than a minute.

and now that he is finally looking at you with an emotion somewhere between apology and gratefulness, you can’t help but admire the way he looks— his sharp features that look soft as a flower when he’s looking at you.

the silence between you both stretches and your chest tightens, and words leave your mouth like you’re caught under his spell. “okay,”

jay is already taking off his suit jacket, placing it on the armrest of your couch before undoing the cuffs of his sleeves. you basically freeze midway in the process of gathering the loose sheets painted with whatever, taking in every inch of the skin on his arm that meets your gaze as he rolls the sleeves up.

you’ve lost it, completely.

he picks up jiyu’s backpack that was lying around on the floor and swings it over his shoulder like it’s muscle memory. he arranges her shoes with his foot, immediately going for the water bottle that was lying next to the couch.

you have only managed to pick up the sheets and colours and he is already looking like some avenger with a backpack, water bottle in one hand and a bowl of water for painting in another with brushes dipped in it. he’s also somehow balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder through it all and answering to whoever it was on the other end of the call.

it feels like magic because you’re apartment already looks cleaner than it was just two minutes ago. “that was…surprisingly quick,”

he registers your words as soon as he puts his phone down on the counter, and there is it again— the shy smile that tugs at your heart strings just right. his hand flies to his nape and he manages to speak even through the loss of words. “yeah, well— i’ve been doing this for six years now,”

god, you’re addicted to that smile.

“right,” you smile, not sure if it’s at his words or how pretty he looks under those kitchen lights. you might as well be jealous of jiyu for being able to see this godly sight every day, might.

you’re still in a trance while watching him wash the excess paint off the dried brushes. you grab a cleaning towel to wipe the paint splatters off the tiles and your eyes are still glued to him— his arm, biceps, flexing through the soft material of his dress shirt.

you do see him walk over to you but you don’t move, your brain is still out of network service. you see his lips moving— his words are deaf to your ears anyway. your fingers are itching to trace over every single part of his face but you fist them around the cloth in your hand to not look crazy.

you blink once, twice— the sound of his voice calling your name gets a tad bit clearer— and then thrice before you’re finally pulled out of dreamland. “oh— yeah, sure! thanks,”

you don’t even know what you’re saying sure and thanks to. you’ve already lost your mind and you think you start losing it again when he steps closer. your heart speeds up like it’s on rocket fuel as he leans in even closer. you don’t even know what you agreed to— it can be anything between killing you and kissing you—

and you’re almost closing your eyes as if anticipating something. almost, because you feel his fingers graze tenderly over your cheek. it’s ever so gentle, like he’s afraid you’ll break.

you almost lean into his touch before he pulls away with a small smile. “there,” and he crumbles the fuckass strawberry sticker between his fingers before it finally hits you. “all clean,”

he laughs.

jay is laughing while you want to scream, probably punch into the nearest wall. you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself but hey, so has he, many times at that, so you both are equal.

“thanks,” you manage to speak through the awkwardness. and then words vanish off your tongue again. he’s looking at you like you’ve saved his life— honestly, you might have, by looking after jiyu all evening. she is his life, his heart beat.

it’s quiet again.

and it feels like one hell of an awkward episode as you both just stand and look at each other. it’s way too quiet, save for the distant horns on the road. jay practically jumps when your table clock goes off with a robotic sound— why did you even set an alarm for ten at night?

you look like an angel wrapped in a warm sweater and trousers. white suits you and so does the glitter on your cheeks. you look like the perfect mess, and you look like you belong here— with jiyu, with him. this is bad, he needs to say something, anything.

his weight shifts from one leg to the other, an attempt at clearing his throat and well, the awkwardness. “i’m sorry for putting you up for babysitting duties all of a sudden,”

you shake your head modestly and he knows what’s coming. “it’s okay, i had fun,”

he laughs at your words, like the first gentle, relieved laugh of the day, like he can breathe after a whole day of work and worries. “she didn’t give you trouble, did she?”

you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. “we get along better than you think, jay,”

and it’s the way you say his name that sends his mind into a frenzy. the way you are smiling at him, the way your eyes are sparkling with a playful glint— everything that is making him forget to breathe.

jay had actually forgotten he was here to pick his daughter up and not stand and admire you like a fool, and when he finally remembers, his feet follow behind your steps on their own while you lead him to your bedroom.

and there she is— his perfect, little girl tucked under a duvet. you’ve arranged pillows around her to prevent her from rolling over and it affects him more than it should. he almost crashes against the door, lips erupting into a fond smile at the sight of her sleeping so sound and safe.

“she’s adorable,” you can’t help but murmur. you’ll probably never tell him, but you sat by the bed for a good few minutes to admire her when she had fallen asleep.

“yeah,”

he takes quiet steps towards the bed and scoops her up in his arms like it’s a habit— and it is. jay would swear his arms would feel empty without her. she squirms drowsily and he pats her back, lulling her back to sleep with practiced ease.

you can see the fatigue behind his eyes and the exhaustion setting in his actions. he presses the softest kiss on jiyu’s forehead and the action melts your heart. you’ve always found their interactions cute, but seeing him like this— a tired mess and relishing in little form snuggled up against his chest— is the most special.

he walks towards the main entrance and words end up slipping off your tongue before you know it. “you’re not staying for dinner?”

you’re just as surprised as him, honestly.

he’s still looking at you with the same soft look on his face. you’re starting to think that dinner with him isn’t exactly a bad idea, not at all.

“no, you look like you could use some nice sleep,” he sighs, and you open your mouth to protest even though you’re disappinted, but he beats you to it. “you’ve already done more than enough,”

maybe, you actually need some sleep.

taking care of a kid is hard, you’ve realised it several times today. if it wasn’t for her non-stop narration on why you should watch kpop demon hunters, you would have fallen asleep on the couch before her. although, you would look after jiyu again without question. he simply has to say the word.

it also has to do with the fact that you still haven’t stopped ogling at his arms, not like you’re ever going to say that out loud.

your eyes meet again when he stands at the doorway, none of you knowing what to say. he’s still caressing her back, making sure she doesn’t wake up. it’s oddly captivating, you want to know how his hands would feel wrapped around you.

your gaze traces over his face, then lips, then back up to meet his eyes so you don’t look like some creep to him. this was a perfect way to end a day and you would hate to ruin it with your inability to take your eyes off him.

he takes a deep breath, not really wanting to leave but he knows that’s not possible. at least, not yet. “see you,”

you nod with a quiet “good night,” and then you close the door, crashing against it with the sweetest smile.

oh, you’re so done for.

OO5 MATCHMAKER

you haven’t seen jay in over five days and it’s the worst thing ever. the first two days, jiyu called in sick, and the next three, you had to visit your parents for your father’s birthday. you’d be lying if you say you did not think about him all the time— day, noon and night.

despite you telling everyone that nothing was wrong, you constantly checked your phone for texts from him, the last ones being about jiyu being sick from two days ago. and well, you did reply, two days ago, of course, hoping that she gets well soon, and then succumbed to hesitation as you went back and forth between to message or to not message.

and now that you’re back to work, jiyu is once again looking at you with determined eyes and a mischievous smile, tiptoeing over your desk. “papa made pancakes for you,”

once again, in front of you, lies a cute box, pastel green this time, with a cherry sticker. you’re going to lose your mind out of cuteness overload one of these days. she slides a small card towards you and your heart skips several beats. all this feels like some high school love story with jiyu playing the perfect cupid.

“were you supposed to tell me that?” you chuckle, based on her history spilling secrets that he trusts her to hide.

you flip open the card and this time, it’s written in his own handwriting— neat yet a bit hurried, every stroke and curve making the smile on your face grow bigger. your name looks prettier when it’s written by him, like something that belong right next to his name.

“yes!” jiyu’s chimes in, almost jumping in excitement. “he also said you should come for dinner,”

“dinner?”

“he cooks really well! and he wants to say thank you,” and of course, she is not letting up any opportunity to praise her father. if jay had a sponsor, it would be her and it’s no surprise. if jay has a million fans, she is one of them. if jay has one fan, it’s her and, if jay has no fans, she is dead.

she went off in front of her grandparents on her third birthday and his friends about how amazing he is at making soup. she couldn’t even remember her nursery rhymes well but she would never shy away from standing in the middle of the living room and give a proper speech on the chef of a dad that she has.

and she is confident in her words, even if they are stuttery and pronounced wrong, sounding like the usual baby rambles. jay can do anything and he would always have a tiny, adorable voice cheering on him.

you slide the note inside your purse, knowing it’s going to stay in your drawer like some precious treasure. you basically spend the rest of the working hours shaking with excitement to see him. you taught subtractions, gripping the chalk a little too tightly in anticipation.

you feel like a victorian lady who can’t wait to see her husband as he returns from the war. the thought itself makes your mind go fuzzy, you’re afraid you mind end up saying something wrong and scaring him away ( even though it’s not possible because jay will want you even if you are a little crazy. )

when the head assigns you to review some student profiles after work, you almost wanted to snap her head off with your bare hands. you hate staying beyond the working hours, more when you know it can very well ruin your only chance of seeing jay today after a whole week of torture.

but, it’s like even the stars are rooting for both of you because you receive a text from him and he is late again— much to his disappointment— and you have never loved the traffic so much before.

you stay with jiyu after school, she is talking about planets. her favourite is saturn because she read that it rains diamonds up there, and you try your best to not look impatient while waiting for the horn of his car that has now become familiar to your ears.

“do you like papa?” jiyu looks up at you with her big, curious eyes, legs dangling off the swing you both are sitting on. she blinks at you a few times, waiting for a response while holding the lollipop in one hand. “he’s nice,”

she’s making round patterns on the sand with her shoes and just as you were about to reply, he arrives, finally, you straighten yourself as you watch him hurry out of the car and close the door a little too loudly behind him.

jay practically runs inside, anxious eyes looking for jiyu until they finally meet her tiny form running towards him. she’s lifted off the ground even before she could respond, her giggles erupting in the air as he drowns her face in fleeting kisses.

then his gaze meets yours, and both your heartbeats start going off like a time bomb— straight out of a movie. you look happier to see him than usual and he is already working up his mind to come up with something.

“about dinner— will saturday be okay?” you cringe internally. that came off as way more excited than you intended. obviously, you don’t want to come off too strong even if you are literally shaking like a manic at the thought of having dinner with him.

“dinner?” he looks down at the tug at his sleeve. it’s jiyu, she’s looking up at him with a grin, and she winks. oh. “saturday is…perfect,”

he doesn’t understand whether to pat jiyu’s back and give her the trophy for being better at this than cupid, if he exists, or if he should lecture on why she can’t invite you over for dinner one fine saturday, under his name, because it’s inappropriate.

although, all his worries are thrown out of the window when he sees the enchanting smile tugging at your lips— dinner be it, hell yeah. he might just invite you over for a five course meal everyday if you are going to look at him like that.

“i’ll see you then,” you nod, and jay was going to make sure the upcoming saturday is the best one you’ve had in your entire life.

you had said saturday to buy yourself four days worth of preparation for the dinner as if it was your marriage dinner. well— it’s just as important, and you don’t know how the said saturday arrived so quickly because you’re standing in front of your closet, looking for the perfect dress.

you have to be going insane. even the new one you bought recently suddenly looks like the ugliest fit you’ve ever had.

you wonder if you should cancel, postpone, and then almost slap yourself back to senses.

no cancellations. you've been waiting for this dinner religiously.

after digging through your closet like you’re going to find gold, you finally end up with something. well, at least it’s new and compliments your skin tone. at least, it looks perfect with your favourite pendant and that is all the confidence you need to go through this dinner.

an hour later, you’re standing nervously in front of his door, fixing any creases on your dress with urgency and nervousness. there’s a box of pineapple shortcakes in one hand for jiyu and a bottle of pinot noir in another. google said it’s a perfect choice for romantic dinners— something about its light body and earthy tones— not like you are expecting anything to happen, by the way.

you press the doorbell, anxiously shifting from leg to the other, biting your inner cheeks. and as if on cue, jay opens the door with a warm smile that makes your face heat up.

“hi,” is all you’re able to say because well, the way he is looking at you is making your mouth run dry. the navy blue cardigan hugs his frame loosely and his hair is no longer styled back. the strands float above his eyes like a veil and you find yourself aching to brush them away to get a clearer look at those dreamy eyes and drown in them.

you’ve only ever seen him in poised suits and rolled up dress shirts with loosened ties, it has made you forget that he definitely doesn’t only wear formals. and frankly, he looks much better in casuals, so much that you’ve come to two conclusions :

first, jay looks way too good in cardigans for your heart health. you might as well get a heart attack at the sight.

and second, you need this date to get somewhere. hopefully, the pinot noir will do its job.

“hi,” he steps aside, gesturing to you to come in. “you should come inside— i’m almost done,”

and it feels surreal to be in his apartment, his place.

it’s nothing like yours and everything like a home that belongs to a family. there are photo frames of him and jiyu in every corner, even on the kitchen island next to the flower vase. her crayon drawings cover the entire fridge door and of course, there is hello kitty on mugs, posters.

the best of all, the entire place smells like a mouth watering cuisine as you see him return to the kitchen. you try your best to not ogle at the food like you haven’t eaten in a hundred years. “anything i can help with?”

“no need, i’m almost done,”

you stand across him, putting the cake and wine on the counter, watching his perfect hands flip the steak over with practiced precision. the sizzle only adds to your appetite. “i don’t mind helping, really,”

“well, you can just sit there and look pretty for me,” he doesn’t even know where these words are coming from.

both of you are equally flustered, barely meeting gazes before they flutter away. you sit on the stool at the counter, right across him, getting the best view of his handsome face glowing like a gem underneath the warm kitchen lights.

“okay,” you let the silence engulf both of you in the comfort of its embrace. it’s not awkward anymore, the faint smiles on both of your lips speaking for the lack of words. “where’s jiyu?”

he looks up from the grill, meeting your beautiful eyes. “with the neighbour’s kid. they suddenly wanted to have a sleepover,”

he says those words with an unamused sigh, still smiling, turning up the flame.

sneaky little thing.

not only she set both of you up for this thank you dinner but she also ran off to her friend’s. sleepover was an excuse, he knew that the second she approached him with puppy dog eyes and a pleading pout to manipulate him. she knows he can never say no to her when she looks at him like that.

well, he is thankful, even after she embarrassed him in front of you. he is glad that his little, matchmaker of a daughter pulled some tricks or else, he would still be sending you tiffins full of baked goodies and cute notes written by her.

you watch him set the plates and fetch the wine glasses. it feels like the perfect date night, better than any five star restaurant can offer, and the cute bowls and mugs on the shelves behind him only make everything better.

“so, what else do you do, aside from being a full-time dad— and watching my videos, obviously?” you ask with a teasing smile, feeling more confident than you were a week ago.

and jay groans visibly, ears flushing red almost immediately. of course, you are bringing that up, he wants to disappear into thin air. “please forget that. jiyu has no filter,”

you fold your hands over the counter with a huff. “and i’m glad she doesn’t. i don’t think you would have told me you’re a fan otherwise,”

and boy, jay was a whole air conditioner in fact.

he would spend his evenings watching your baking videos and his nights were filled with shy grins under the duvet, thinking about the way you had smiled at him at the school pickup.

he would never say it to anyone— it’s so embarrassing, he hides his face in the mattress whenever he thinks of it at night, but he has spent days admiring you from afar, watching you interact with kids and their parents. he would sit in his car and try to calm his heart down, hoping he manages to say something more than a hello and a thank you.

he even feels a tinge of jealousy at the sight of you laughing with the kids and kissing their cheek, as insane as it sounds.

will you ever kiss me?

his knees go wobbly at the thought and he almost smiles to himself, forgetting you’re sitting right in front of him. he ( and his daughter ) has already done enough damage to his cool and sauve image in front you, he definitely doesn’t want you to run away because you think of him as some mad man giggling to himself.

he can feel your gaze follow every single motion of his hand, the way he scatters pepper over the butter and thyme in the pan before stirring in the shallots. it’s like a game, he feels a sense of victory knowing he has you hooked— and it’s true. you have watched countless people cooking the most delicious meals in their own magnificent ways, but nothing was ever as hypnotic as him, nothing even comes close.

he carefully flambé’s the shallots in brandy and flame until it dies down, unlike the one in your chest that only ignites further when he gives you a charming smirk from across the stove. your face heats up and you don’t know if it’s because of him or the warmth of the kitchen, you don’t bother answering that question to yourself.

with a few more steps that felt like watching a magician in his show, you had the perfect steak diane served drizzled with sauce in front of you. “hope you enjoy,”

you were going to enjoy it.

the plate looks like it’s straight out of a cooking magazine, the wine that he pours on the side only elevating the taste of the whole meal. you wait for him to join you and he sits in front of you with expectant eyes waiting for your review. you’ve seen this movie before, the same pupils gleaming with anticipation and excitement. you almost feel compelled to give jiyu extra stars when she looks at you the same way as he is right now, and you think it’s only valid to give him stars too.

you slice the steak with your knife and take a bite, immediately melting onto the table itself. “this is so—” gosh, you hear him chuckle when you try to speak through a mouthful of food. you decide that it doesn’t even matter anymore. “—amazing,”

he smiles at your words and digs in— honestly, you’re too busy savouring the taste of steak and shallots to even pay attention to what he is doing. you came for the man, stayed for the food, it’s hard to believe he has all these skills hidden up his messily rolled sleeves on workdays.

the dinner is quiet, for the most part, save for the occasional clinking of cutlery and soft thank yous that he mutters to you for accepting his— or more accurately, jiyu’s— invitation. your legs accidentally touch under the table and he immediately averts his gaze, cheeks shot red. he apologises, soft and shy, gulping down the sip of wine and his nervousness.

it’s cute, you hold yourself back from reaching out and placing your hand on his. if it wasn’t for hesitation coursing through your veins, you might have done it already, and perhaps he would have too.

maybe it’s the wine but you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him— not like you had it any better before. the way he fills up your wine glass with politeness adoring his every move has you in a trance. you’ve noticed all those business awards and the ‘best dad’ certificate on the wall that was made by jiyu herself. he checks all the boxes— the perfect employee to the perfect dad, and a perfect man.

your words stand confirmed all over again when you step aside to use the restroom after dinner and by the time you get back, he is already putting the dishes in the sink after cleaning up the kitchen, and he is effortlessly quick with it too.

you do lose your mind over those broad shoulders and tiny waist, it’s making you feel all tingly in the chest and stomach. and after spending several minutes admiring him from behind, you find the courage to stand right next to him. “let me help,”

and it’s like you’ve said something controversial because jay is looking at you wide eyed and raised brows with disbelief written all over his face. “please, you don’t have—”

“i insist,”

the silence overtakes again.

your gazes meet and he shifts awkwardly, accidentally brushing his arm against yours, and suddenly his spacious modular kitchen feels too small for even two people. his ears turn red but he doesn’t look away and neither do you.

his eyes scan your face, then travel down to your lips before coming back at your face, and none of you look away. maybe, the pinot noir is doing it’s job. maybe, things are getting somewhere—

and then he shifts away, clearing his throat. “okay,”

honestly, jay is freaking out.

he doesn’t know how he is still standing next to you and breathing normal and not screaming while crashing out on the floor. you give him a cute smile every time he looks down at you and god, it is making him want to hold your face in his shaky hands and cry his eyes out.

it all feels so domestic, like you belong here, right next to him. nobody would have expected you both to be washing dishes on your first ( unofficial, self-proclaimed ) date. if he was any braver, he would have you right next to you on the couch with a movie playing on the tv screen. but, since he is far from anything mentioned above, he relishes in doing dishes with you.

and it’s heavenly, because the second your hand brushes against his under water in the sink, it’s like electricity running through his body and short circuiting his brain. he doesn’t know what to do— should he apologise? should he hold your hand? should he ignore and wait for it to happen again?

you aren’t even looking at him and continue to wash the same plate for the last ten minutes— not like he minds— and he wants to explode. that seems like the most plausible option at the moment.

the air is turning awkward again and he constantly taps his foot over the tile, finding words to break the silence. he watches you put the plate away before picking up the bowl, and he can’t help the next words that leave his mouth. “you’re good at this,”

great.

just amazing.

jay dies a little on the inside when you laugh at his words, the sound almost mocking his question. “at washing dishes?”

he wants to jump out of the window. billions of words in the english language and his mind came up with the worst four possible right now. he needs to save himself somehow. “yeah, you’re uh— skilled,”

stop.

just shut up.

you’re laughing at him, and of course you would be. you probably think he is the stupidest person to exist, even the kids at the kindergarten might be smarter than him. he doesn’t even trust himself to say something better anymore. when you’re this close to him, all his senses are destroyed.

you reach out to push a loose strand of hair back with your forearm, and he reaches out to wipe his hand almost instinctively before tucking your hair behind your ear. his hand stays there for a while like it’s a scene straight out of a romance show, his eyes refusing to leave your surprised ones.

his focus averts to your lips again, the way you nip at it nervously only makes it harder for him to think straight. he considers leaning in— it’s barely a few inches. but he steps back, and his touch lingers over your skin even after he pulls away.

he’s still thinking about it while scooping ice cream for two. you look so pretty leaning against the kitchen island and taking in every detail with utmost care, it makes him freeze by the refrigerator with two bowls of ice cream in his hands.

“here,” you smile when he hands you one, and jay stares at you with keen eyes as you take a spoonful in your mouth. it’s strawberry, too sweet for his liking, but jiyu mentioned once that you like strawberries and he hopes it’s your preference in ice creams too.

“what?” he doesn’t realise he’s staring until you call him out, and he smacks himself internally for getting lost in you again, not like he can help it.

“nothing just…” words trail off while he rubs his nape for a decent answer, looking at the shelves as if begging for help. “i, uh, hope you like that flavour,”

that was good.

“it’s good,” you say with a smile so sweet, it makes the ice cream taste bland. “but i prefer cookies and cream,”

and for some reason, that brings a smile to his face too. cookies and cream— so much like you, yet nothing that he could have guessed. well, it’s just the first dinner together and you’re like a box of surprises that he wishes to unwrap slowly and carefully, only seeing what you’re willing to show.

“i’ll remember that for the next time,” and it’s more of a promise than a statement. there is s a wishful certainty for a next time for something in the way you’re looking at him tells him that you want it to happen too.

you’re enjoying the ice cream in silence and he’s enjoying the sight of you, but again, what’s new? you look up at him again, glowing ever so perfectly under the yellow lights hanging from the ceiling. every single feature on your face shines like gold, and jay doesn’t know where all this bravery is coming from but he finds himself inching towards you.

he takes it slow, hesitant in his own actions. it’s like he’s waiting for your reaction, anything more than just your eyes landing on his lips before moving away. he wouldn’t mind if you choose to leave, despite the heartbreak, but when you turn to face him with the same look, he knows he has you for now.

it’s like the air shifts around you and suddenly, the lack of space doesn’t feel so bad. “can i?”

“i thought you’d never ask,” you nod— it’s all jay needs to know.

the next second, his lips are on yours, barely moving. he’s still unsure, wondering if you are too, if you want to pull away. but when you don’t— when you give in and press your lips against his, leaning into him— he feels like he can breathe again.

he puts his bowl away and takes yours to do the same, hands immediately going around your waist to pull you flush against him. you’re backed against the counter and he is somewhere between losing himself in the thrill and keeping himself grounded.

the kiss deepens, he lets you lead and his lips follow yours, slow yet insistent. you pull at his cardigan and he cups your cheeks ever so tenderly, wanting to get lost in you and never find a way out. it’s dizzying, the way your hands rest on the back of his neck, the way he can almost feel your heartbeat against his chest and the way it is almost in sync with his.

he smells like oud and something you can’t name but it’s clouding your senses and everything feels so right. his hand trails down the curve of your waist like he’s worshipping you and your breath hitches when he draws you even closer, if it was even possible.

jay pulls away a little, his forehead against yours. he takes in your sight— lips red while you’re breathing in short huffs. it feels like he’s falling for you all over again. “i’ve been waiting to do that for so long,”

“me too,” and your words are like a wave of relief pulling him in as he captures your lips in another kiss. it’s more playful this time, he can feel you smiling while your hands ghost up his neck and travel down to intertwine with his.

he still cannot believe this is real, and even if it’s not he doesn’t want it to stop. although, it does when you give him a few more pecks before pulling back with a grin, as if proud of the needy pout on his lips.

“stay for the night?” he murmurs, still cupping your cheeks. he tries to hold back, but ends up pecking your lips anyway. “it’s raining outside anyway. i’m not letting you drive in this weather,”

and you nod, pressing yet another peck against his lips as you bring his arm to circle around your waist. “only if you make pancakes for breakfast,”