Keep my heart guarded ✶ lhs

word count: 22.7k

Your long-term relationship with your bodyguard-slash-personal assistant Lee Heeseung goes way back in high school. Ever since then, he keeps your heart guarded and humbled in every possible way since your makeup line started to rise into fame. But when a dating scandal tied you with your brand's ambassador, leading to a PR stunt that will last for two years, that's when you realized that your relationship with Heeseung was starting to crumble because of the fortune and popularity.

Play dates ✶ pjs

word count: 25k

A drunken one night stand went wrong when news of the darling socialite was seen leaving the penthouse of CEO Park Jongseong, one of the most sought bachelors in Korea. In order to save face and reputation, a fake dating contract of six months was proposed.

The problem? Turns out you and Jay were ex-lovers — a secret relationship that ended up in a bad light and three years after not seeing each other, you two ended up in the headline of the tabloids and gossip articles. Fake it 'til you make it, they say, and it doesn't help that your ex-boyfriend is great with the act, blurring the lines between repressed feelings and acting like everything's fine between the two of you.

Crayon portraits ✶ sjy

word count: 19.4k

You have a secret — you have a daughter. A four year old little girl who's the bright definition of summer sun. You have another secret, the father is nothing but a bartender at a local beach bar where you had a vacation a few years ago. With your reputation on the line, you forced yourself to keep them hidden from the world and thankfully, Jake was willing to hide his daughter and agree with your conditions — until he decided he doesn't want to for his daughter's sake, leaving you questioning your life as a career woman and a mother.

Conveniently, Mr. & Mrs. Park ✶ psh

It was simple. Go back to South Korea, take his inheritance from his late father, leave, and never return. But it wasn't simple for Park Sunghoon when he discovered that in order to receive his inheritance, his father required an heir and family from him.

Then came you. A mess, carrying an eight-month old baby, scared of the world. Sunghoon needed a family, you needed protection and shelter. Filling each other's needs, the two of you arranged a marriage of convenience for a year. It’s that simple. You two convinced, not until lines started to blur and wants started to diminish your supposed needs.

Chasing after storms ✶ ksn

word count: 20.3k

Your life has always been a matter of business. Even your marriage with the cold-hearted Kim Sunoo was purely out of business. An alliance. To strengthen one’s company and partnership. But when a conversation between Sunoo and a family lawyer suggesting to divorce you was overheard, you resorted to your only choice — ran away.

Seven months into your disappearance, and your husband found you in the smallest, most secluded isle in your country. Eager to bring you home, his desperation clashed with your stubbornness, creating a storm that left both of you stranded in your loveless marriage.

Ruining empires ✶ yjw

Your relationship with Jungwon comes in hotel rooms and behind closed doors, where it's just the two of you who love each other with much tenderness. While in the outside world, the two of you are destined to be rivals due to your family's long-term rivalry when it comes to being the top corporation in your country. But when secrets are starting to spill, and meet-ups are getting harder to do so; you and Jungwon must face the world and prove that what you two have is real.

The art of tension ✶ nrk

word count: 22.4k

Your divorce has been the talk of the town. The cold and meticulous CEO who wasn’t able to give affection to her ex-husband, eventually was replaced with someone younger and prettier in less than five months after the divorce. You tried to keep your reputation stable despite all the names thrown to you, but when an art gallery exhibit trailed you to Nishimura Riki — handsome, fine, reputable-looking yet younger male who seems to be drawn to you, tension arises and gossip articles start to brew.

Han Dongmin has always been a force of nature – headstrong, determined, relentless – and in a Jaeger he’s truly unstoppable. At least that’s what he likes to think.

In reality, whenever Siren Fury is dispatched, there’s a chance he won’t make it back. Or at least, not as the same person he used to be.

Jaegers are built to be as indestructible as possible since they are humanity’s only hope against the Kaijus that emerge from the Pacific oceans. They are practically humanoid metal robots as tall as buildings to be able to fight back the dinosaur-size extraterrestrial monsters. Nothing of this size and delicacy can move on its own effectively like a toy car. So after trial and error all working models of Jaegers are built like humans: with a neural network running through their limbs and a control panel acting as their brain. The Conn-Pod needs at least two pilots to work because only one person cannot possibly handle all that without lasting brain damage. When attached to the Jaeger with their Drivesuit’s spinal clamp digging into their back, the pilots’ minds basically become one. That’s the only way proper coordination can work. Like the right and left halves of the brain working together.

Or at least that’s what Dongmin was taught at his Academy classes by J-technicians who never actually drifted with another person or saw what the world looked like through the eyes of a Jaeger. Dongmin is a soldier though, he doesn’t actually care how it works as long as it gets the work done. As long as humanity is winning against these monsters.

So it’s not often that he’s sentimental enough to contemplate the fragility of human life, but now he’s in the middle of the ocean waiting for the pick up team in the damaged Conn-Pod of Siren Fury with his unconscious co-pilot in his arms. The Jaeger’s half arm is in pieces scattered in the water with the remains of a Category IV Kaiju after they blew it off. Later, the Marshal tells him that it will take weeks to fix it up and it makes him feel useless because that means weeks of forced standby.

A Ranger is nothing without their co-pilot or their Jaeger after all.

Dongmin used to hate this fact, this dependance. All his life, there was nothing he couldn’t do alone. He learned early on that in his family’s dictionary there was no such thing as ‘can’t’. Not having the ability to do something was a weakness he couldn’t afford. Not if he wanted to make his father proud.

Three generations of navy soldiers, that was the dream they cradled since he was young. Then the Kaijus came and turned the world as they knew it upside down. So he was one of the first ones to sign up for the newly established Jaeger program in Busan, one of the youngest ones too.  It’s been six years since, two since he finally found a drift compatible partner and now, the girl who was in his head half the time went quiet.

Nevermind. A few hours later she’s up like she merely took an afternoon nap.

Dongmin crosses his arms in front of his chest at the leg of her hospital bed.

“He bought you flowers?” He asks with a grimace as he’s having a staredown with the bowl of water and flora that certainly wasn’t there when they were both brought in for post-mission check ups.

“Aquatic ones! These won’t just die,” his co-pilot glances at the gift dreamily and Dongmin sighs. If he thought it was annoying when she and that Kaiju researcher guy were both pining he might have had to re-evaluate. This could be so much worse now that they finally confessed their undying love for each other or whatever.

“Such a nerd,” he mutters under his breath, unimpressed.

“It’s romantic!” Even bedridden his military partner has energy to argue with him.

Dongmin rolls his eyes and sneakily picks up the honey butter peanut box from her bedside table to pop some into his mouth.

“Whatever. Just try not to think about kissing him when we’re drifting,” he says dryly and dramatically shudders at the thought just for the effect.

“You’re just jealous,” his co-pilot jabs back at him and snatches the snack back from his hand.

“Of you kissing Kim?” Dongmin makes a face and that earns him the pillow thrown at his head.

He knows it wasn’t what she meant but between rigorous training and fighting alien monsters, annoying her is the closest thing he has to normalcy in his life.

It’s a soft sound, somebody clearing their throat, that’s saving her from getting the pillow thrown back at her, hospitalized or not, because when Dongmin sees the presence of a nurse their age, he haphazardly hides the soft material behind his back as if to hide evidence of the childish fight.

“Sorry, I need to check on her vitals,” you say, pulling a clipboard close to your chest and raising your gaze. Soon enough, soft eyes meet his.

Now, this is the part when you should look away shyly, like a blushing, giggling mess. He’s used to that. Girls reacting to his presence like that. And he gets it, Rangers are idolized by the media like stars, they are heroes after all. He has given out autographs and taken selfies with fans who came to congratulate on their victories, so with the way you can’t take your eyes off of him, he thinks that maybe you will ask for one, too.

“Can you–” Ah there it is, just another fan request. He should have brought a pen. “–move aside?”

Wait, what?

“You’re in the way, idiot,” his co-pilot chides and he makes sure to scowl at her before stepping aside, so you can check on the monitor and how much liquid is still in the IV bag.

Embarrassment burns in the pit of his stomach but he doesn’t let it show. He leans against an empty bed, hopefully looking as nonchalant as humanly possible, even as his gaze follows your figure until it disappears down the corridor.

“Is she new?” He blurts out against better judgement but lucky for him his partner is too preoccupied with a text she got most likely from loverboy to notice the weird tone of his voice.

“Who? The nurse? I think so, why?”

Dongmin shrugs like he doesn’t care. Because he doesn’t. It just irks him that you didn’t even spare him a second glance before leaving. He’s not used to being disregarded.

With nothing better to do Dongmin throws himself into Kwoon combat practice. It isn’t like fighting with his co-pilot (not just with words) but she has been advised to not strain herself for at least a while, so he has to suffice with cadets. Not to brag but he can easily take two at a time, three on a good day or if they are really bad. Kwoon is about balance, about connection, it’s more of a dialogue than an actual fight to win but there is no balance if Dongmin is freaking bored with these kids. So he pushes himself more: morning Kwoon sessions, afternoon drift simulations with his co-pilot (if she doesn’t stop thinking about Kim Donghyun’s smile, he will put bleach into her shampoo), strategy discussions with the Marshal and late night gym visits. He watches the numbers climb on the war clock and the J-Techs slowly re-build Siren Fury’s arm while restlessness brews in his stomach.

Then Park Sunghoon visits from the Gangneung Shatterdome and beats his ass on the mat without breaking a sweat. Dongmin grits his teeth as he gets up, leaning more of his weight on the fighting stick.

“What’s with your left side? You rely too much on your right,” the senior Ranger points out calmly while putting the wooden prop away. Dongmin considers lying, saying he just prefers this way, but in the end just sighs.

“Just a bit of a strain, nothing serious,” he shrugs, slowly rolling his left shoulder back, grimacing at the ache seeping into his bones.

“Have it looked at in the infirmary just to be sure,” Sunghoon suggests and grabs his stuff from the floor. Before he leaves, he turns back once with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “Then find me for a re-match.”

And Dongmin is nothing if not disciplined. It has been drilled into him through military training since childhood, so there he is, at the infirmary. He hasn’t been back since his co-pilot has been discharged but it’s surprisingly empty. Still, it surprises him that the only person at the nurses’ counter is you.

“Oh, are you alone?” He blurts out and it makes him sound stupid when you glance up from the book you’re reading and pointedly look around.

“Do you see anybody else here?”

“I’m just asking. I didn’t know they allow new nurses to be on duty on their own,” he explains his surprise quite poorly if your unimpressed look is anything to go buy. So professional. You really don’t want his signature, huh?

“We don’t really have the luxury to have proper rotations. I guess you know how that is,” you shrug and turn the book upside down, leaving it open on the desk before standing up. He tries to catch what it’s about but the angle is off to read the title properly. You round the counter and point at the examiner table. He takes a seat with a straight back but his eyes are following you. 

You tie your hair back and pull a folder out of a drawer. His check up data most likely. He wonders what they say about him. If that folder catalogues all the injuries he has suffered ever since he joined the Jaeger Academy, if it even contains the result of his psychological evaluation that cleared him stable enough to pilot, if it made him seem like a soldier through and through or just somebody who bled through their teenage years to be here.

You move around with a confidence that newbies don’t have. It makes him want to ask where you came from but you beat him to it.

“So what’s wrong?” You step in front of him after leaving his files on the desk and look up. A hint of jasmine hits him and it has him inhale sharply. With him sitting, you’re pretty much eye level and suddenly he can’t make himself look away. You missed a strand of hair when tying your hair up but you’re too focused to care about it. His fingers itch to brush it back, so he curls them into a fist.

“My left shoulder feels off for a few days now,” he ends up saying. It’s the oversimplified version of the truth but admitting that he overestimated his limits and overworked himself to the point to strain a muscle sounds pathetic. He should have known better.

You don’t say anything, just hum quietly and round the table. When you touch him, thumb pressing lightly into his upper trapezius while the rest of your fingers rest on his shoulder, he tenses up for no reason at all.

“Does this hurt?” You ask, voice coming from much closer.

“No,” Dongmin lies because this much is nothing. He has once showed up to his Academy evaluation with a broken rib and nobody noticed. You hum again, contemplating, then press into the skin near his shoulder blade harder and he nearly blacks out from the sharp pain. “Ah, fuck.”

“Yeah, thought so.” That’s your only comment to his outburst before your hands leave him to rummage through a cabinet. “Take off your top.”

You say it like it’s nothing with your back to him, so you miss how fast his ears redden.

“What?” Dongmin’s voice jumps half an octave, dumbfounded, nearly getting a whiplash from how fast he turns to you, not making any moves to follow instructions. An exasperated sigh escapes you and turning back to look at him,  you put a hand on your hip.

“Do you always ask so many questions? Be glad I didn’t ask you to pull down your pants,” you raise an eyebrow almost challengingly which has him gaping like a fish. He had no idea being a nurse at the Shatterdome includes such duty.

“You do that too?” 

You cross your arms in front of you and deadpan:

“Yes, if some idiot needs a rabies vaccine.”

“Which idiot?” Dongmin is quick to inquire but you just give him a look, so he shuts up. But he would bet that it was Myung Jaehyun. That J-technician is a self-hazard.

“Come on. Shirt off. I need to apply ointment on your back,” you explain and he clears his throat to collect himself.

Right. Get it together, Han Dongmin, don’t act like you haven’t been in the infirmary before.

Dongmin would like to think he’s unaffected. Like totally. Why wouldn’t he be? But the fact that you were unaffected the entire time you had him half-naked on that uncomfortable examination table, fingers gently rubbing something that smelled strongly of peppermint into his skin bothers him more than it should have. Half the girls in the Shatterdome would have liked to be in your place just to ogle, so why do you act like it was nothing?

And yes, he knows that it doesn’t make sense. He’s usually annoyed by the amount of unwanted attention he’s getting. He’s usually busy making sure to keep people at an arm’s length. But now he’s staring up at the grey ceiling from his bunk bed, turning the dog tag of Siren Fury that hangs in his neck between his fingers and can’t sleep. He thinks of your eyes, neutral and never lingering longer than they should, and he couldn’t help but wonder: are you like that, professional and distant, with everybody or do you have something against him personally?

Dongmin kicks the blanket off himself and hauls himself out of bed. He grabs a jacket and his shoes and slips out of the room without waking his roommate. PPDC’s favourite or not, he doesn’t get the luxury of having his own room. Instead he’s roomed with a politician’s son. The Marshal said it’s because they’re the same age and moved to the Shatterdome around the same time but Dongmin has a feeling that it has something to do with how they both have powerful fathers. Commander Han and National Assembly member Lee might not be friends but they are both avid campaigners for the Jaeger Program funding over those useless Anti-Kaiju walls. Chanyoung is a good enough roommate though, he’s quiet but friendly, he knows when not to bother Dongmin.

On nights when Chanyoung can’t sleep, he goes for a swim. On nights when Dongmin can’t, his feet take him to the Kwoon combat room. However, this time around it’s not empty despite the late hour. The boy on the mat is tall and lanky, hasn’t built much muscle yet. He’s practicing hits with the wooden stick but he puts more effort into channeling strength than precision. He doesn’t even notice Dongmin watching from the open door, not until he pushes himself away from the frame and approaches the mat. The younger boy clearly startles and bows with widened eyes, his swift apology cut off by the Ranger:

“Straighten up properly. You put too much of your upper body into the swings. Like this you will tire yourself out before getting any hits,” Dongmin says matter-of-factly as he kicks off his boots and grabs a stick for himself.

When he turns around, the cadet still stands in that awkward position of just having stood up straight after a polite bow like he can’t quite believe he’s seeing an actual Ranger from up close. Dongmin gets it, he used to be starstruck too when he first met senior Rangers but he sure as hell did a much better job at hiding his fascination. This kid is practically vibrating out of his skin and effectively ignoring his previous advice.

Dongmin sighs and lands a soft hit on the boy’s lower back that effectively has him fix his spine.

“I said, straighten up,” he repeats like he’s bored already and nods towards the stick hanging uselessly from the cadet’s hand. “Try to get a point.”

The boy does not manage to get any hits.

Dongmin didn’t actually expect him to. If he managed anyways that would have meant that Dongmin was in a much worse form than he would have liked to admit it despite his healing injury. So the real achievement he wanted to see wasn’t any points but the cadet improving his stance and attacks. And to his credit, the boy tried his best and he has potential. He’s determined and doesn’t give up, not even after the dozenth hit Dongmin gets in lazily without actually straining himself to attack.

“What’s your name, cadet?” He asks when the boy is sprayed out on the floor with sweat dripping down his forehead and neck soaking the collar of his uniform. Dongmin offers him a hand.

“Kim Woonhak, sir,” the cadet rushes to answer while still trying to catch his breath once upright. Dongmin’s mouth pulls into a grimace at the formality that makes him feel much older than he actually is. 

“Just hyung is enough,” he corrects and he swears he sees Woonhak’s eyes sparkle.

“Yes, sir– Hyung!”

Dongmin cracks a smile and adjusts his grip on the stick.

“Again.”

When the next Kaiju emerges from the ocean near Brisbane, two Australian Jaegers are dispatched since they are the closest but it doesn’t change the fact that Dongmin feels useless watching the fight through the monitors hung up in the Shatterdome’s halls. What ifs plague his mind about the defenseless Southern coastline of the country and even though he knows that Kim’s idea saved them from being dragged into the water and being torn apart, rebuilding Siren Fury takes more time than he expected. Jaehyun also told him they might not be able to build a plasma charger in the new arm because funding is low and the component parts are crazy expensive. Most of the money goes into the new Mark-6 Jaeger they are building, hopefully launching next year with brand new pilots. At times like this the PPDC’s priorities boil the Ranger’s blood. Is it really better to have two half-built Jaegers than one proper one?

Later that night, after Jake and Leo defeats the Category III Kaiju, he visits the hangar bay smelling of grease and metal to check on Siren Fury. She stands tall and proud, all sleek steel and battleworn scars. Her left arm is open, wires and rods peeking out showing its half-finished state. Dongmin walks over the elevated walkway to get a closer look but halts as soon as he notices a figure already there. At first he thinks it might be his co-pilot driven by the same restlessness he feels but when he gets closer he recognizes you.

For once you don’t wear your usual nurse uniform and don’t have your hair tightly tied back either. Instead you have sweats and an SNU Med t-shirt on, hair falling into your face. It’s the first time he has seen you look so… casual.

Dongmin has half a mind to slip away like he hasn’t even been there but then his shoes made a squealing sound against the grated metal flooring and you look up straight at him. Whatever excuse he was about to say then freezes on the tip of his tongue when he sees your red-rimmed eyes in the hangar’s dim night light. Oh.

You look away quickly, sniffling as you wipe your face clear of evidence and Dongmin just stands there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with the situation. Should he leave you alone and pretend he saw nothing or offer some kind of comfort even though he’s shit at it? One would think having a girl co-pilot helps navigating situations like this but the Ranger girl has always had Kim Donghyun by her side and Dongmin never had to be the shoulder to cry on. Not to mention, you and him aren’t even close, so it probably would be weird if he suddenly initiated anything… right?

“How is it?” You speak up quietly before he could make up his mind. You don’t look at him, just keep staring ahead but it feels like a permission to stay. Like maybe you would actually appreciate some company.

“What?” Dongmin asks as he lowers himself into a sitting position against the railing in a decent arm’s length distance from you.

“Going out there and fighting in this,” you point at his Jaeger and while your words are emotionless, there’s a strain in your voice that most likely has something to do with why today’s Kaiju attack triggered something in you.

So Dongmin takes your question seriously, gives it a moment to think it over properly, instead of just blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind. Everybody has seen Jaegers on TV, some has seen them in real life but only a handful have ever been in a dispatched one. Dongmin is one of the few but he isn’t sure how to describe the feeling to somebody who has never ever sat in a simulator.

“Like you’re on the top of the world,” he says as he stares at the helmet of the blue-washed Siren Fury, at the Korean flag proudly painted on its side. His voice is tethering on the edge of sounding awed. “Piloting a Jaeger isn’t like piloting a plane. It’s not a separate entity. Once you’re attached, it becomes the extension of your own body. Practically, you, your co-pilot and the Jaeger become one after the drift. It’s hard to explain but suddenly you are more.”

Dongmin’s gaze drops to the robot’s legs. Somewhere on its mechanical ankles there are marks of two scratchy names. Him and his co-pilot carved their names into the steel with a knife after their first successful mission. The J-Tech must have noticed but nobody has ever said a thing.

“Isn’t it scary?” You ask quietly and he isn’t sure what you mean. The drift, the control over something so big or the fight against Kaijus? His answer is the same nevertheless:

“Only if you let it,” he says because he has long gotten used to all that. He has come to terms with the fact that he will probably die young in a Jaeger. He just wants to take as many Kaijus with him as he can. He can’t afford to let fear dictate his life. Nobody should, so he tries to crack a joke: “Otherwise it’s just a hyper realistic video game.”

When a hint of a smile graces your features, he considers it a win even if you don’t say anything.

For the first time, silence settles comfortably between the two of you. You don’t cry anymore and he lets the railing dig into his back more as he relaxes his shoulders. Siren Fury glows under the moonlight shining through the glass dome.

“I think being stuck on land having nothing to do is scarier,” Dongmin admits, quieter than before, his fingers mindlessly following the engraving in the dog tag that hangs from his neck between his pulled up legs.

Who is he if he is not out there fighting? It’s a question he has been turning in his head all day but he would like to think there was nothing in his voice that warranted you to look at him with all doe eyes. He clears his throat as he looks away.

“Why leave Seoul? It’s relatively safe there,” he stumbles to fill the void. It’s only fair if it’s his turn to ask, he justifies, and it seems like a neutral enough question. The assumption is also mostly a guess based on your shirt, but you don’t correct him.

“My younger brother joined the Busan Academy as a cadet. He’s all I have,” you answer simply, like it explains everything and maybe it does. The you followed him here part goes unsaid but it’s clear enough. Dongmin wonders what else you left behind in Seoul other than university.

He also wants to ask what happened with the rest of your family but the intensity you’re staring at the Jaegers towering over you is an answer too, he supposes. Wrong time, wrong place and a Kaiju. Everybody seems to have a story like this these days.

“Are you not… proud of him?” He asks instead. Tentatively because it sounds like you don’t approve of your brother’s decision to join the military, to work for keeping the country safe while you’re also on the frontline even if in a different role. Shatterdomes are built right by the water which makes them the closest targets when a Kaiju attack comes. Everybody risks their life by being there, not just the cadets who might pilot a Jaeger one day.

“I am,” you’re quick to protest but your voice breaks when you continue. “But I don’t want to lose him. Why does it have to be him who plays the hero?”

Dongmin clenches his jaw at the clear concern in your voice and stares out at the sea through the giant windows.

He grew up in a household built on discipline, diligence and loyalty. It has never been a question to him if he will put his life on the line for his country, it was a given. He still remembers the warmth of his father’s palm squeezing his shoulder when he officially became a Ranger and the smile on his mother’s face as she told her friends that her son had defeated Kaijus. He cannot disappoint them.

“Somebody has to do it,” he says.

He has gotten used to it: people expecting him to be that somebody. He was the best of best, they said, if somebody could do it, it would be him. It has always filled him with pride, the trust they put into his abilities and the way they justified the hard work he has put into getting there. But listening to you talking about your brother with such unabashed care, he can’t help but want that. Somebody to care enough to worry about him too. It’s stupid because he’s better off without it and yet, now it keeps plaguing his thoughts.

Thoughts you break easily when you shift until you face him, you knee almost bumping into his side.

“You’re his role model, you know? That’s why he applied here,” you tell him and while it doesn’t sound like you’re blaming him, he feels a pang of guilt anyways. He doesn’t let it hurt though.

“Want an autograph?” He raises his eyebrows and flashes a charming smile at you. At the girl who has every reason to hate him because her brother might die one day because of his influence.

You snort at his silly question regardless and he finds that he doesn’t even mind it, at least you’re smiling. That’s good enough.

Dongmin hisses when the wound stings under running water. The bleeding has stopped already and now he just feels stupid trying to clean up broken glass with his hands. He brings his hurting hand up to his face to inspect the injury. Luckily it’s nothing serious, barely more than a paper cut. He normally ignores such things, because while sure, they’re mildly annoying for a few days when in contact with something, soon enough they’re gone without a trace. But now for some reason his feet take him to the infirmary’s floor, his brain already racking up explanations like how even such a small wound could get infected or affect his job if not taken care of professionally. You don’t ask for any of his excuses when you see him, just have him sit down and treat his cut with careful hands. It takes less than five minutes and he’s out of the infirmary with a plaster on his finger.

The thing is, normally Dongmin doesn’t get injured or sick often. At least not seriously enough to ask for help. No wonder even his co-pilot looks at him weird when after a Kwoon combat session, he’s off to the nurse station to have a freshly reddened bruise looked at. He leaves with a cooling cream in hand. You didn’t even ask him to take his shirt off!

One time he goes as far as pretending to have fever after his skin heats up from blow drying his hair but you just put a cool hand against his forehead and brush his fringe out of his face before dropping a sour candy wrapper into his hands. He’s not sure whether this is more humiliating or when only Mrs Hwang is in and he bolts after she tells him that it’s your day off.

So now he’s at the hangar bay, sitting on a stool too small for his long legs, while Jaehyun is working on his Jaeger’s hand. Dongmin is there to supposedly help, wearing a motion capture glove and bending his fingers every once in a while when the J-Tech guy tells him to, but he mostly just complains about the dissatisfactory health care service he has received lately as in not being able to talk with you properly because you always send him away once he’s treated.

“Dude, if you want her attention so badly, maybe talk to her instead of giving her more work,” Jaehyun advises while checking on the hand sensor settings on his tablet and making some modifications to the sensitivity levels.

“I don’t want–” Dongmin is quick to argue but he bites his tongue when his friend sends him a knowing look. He sighs begrudgingly. “I’m not that desperate.”

He has a reputation to uphold after all. He’s the Jaeger Academy’s best for a reason. The Pan Pacific Defence Corps’s favourite role model to parade for young cadets. Commander Han’s eldest son. He’s not some lovesick male lead from a tv drama.

And yet, somehow, half an hour later he’s back in the infirmary wing because he touched something on the workstation he shouldn’t have and now he has a fresh burn mark on his palm. For once, he feels more embarrassed than sneaky when he walks through the double doors and you look up from your desk. You don’t even seem surprised anymore to see him there.

“You know, for a Ranger, you’re kind of careless,” is the first thing you tell him after he shows you his newest injury.

“Excuse me?” The snarky reaction escapes Dongmin as defensiveness takes over. The callout feels unfair, because no matter what anybody says, he is one hell of a Ranger. He has medals the president awarded him for god’s sake.

You look him in the eye, unwavering, and press a pad of disinfectant against his wound as if to prove a point. Dongmin hisses and deflates like a balloon.

“Oh, that. Right,” he mumbles, casting his eyes down like a child that knows they were in the wrong.

You hold his hand gently while applying the disinfectant properly and spread a thin layer of cream over the burn. He already misses the subtle touch when you let go to get the gauze and wrap it around his palm. When your fingers linger a bit more than necessary after securing the bandage with a plaster, he might have just imagined that.

“You should be more careful,” you tell him belatedly, half scolding, half worried, while sitting down in front of the age-old computer to log his newest visit into his files. Dongmin has to turn his head away to hide his smile.

After that things slowly start to change.

You don’t ignore him anymore when he looks your way in the canteen. The first time he sits down at your table, the girls nearby stare and whisper and giggle not-so-subtly. But at least he gets to talk to you about how his burn is healing and that he managed to beat Park Sunghoon at Kwoon combat the last time they sparred. When you notice he doesn’t eat the eggplant on his plate, you steal it from his tray and give him a piece of chicken instead. He can’t stop smiling behind his can of soda.

During one of his now semi-regular practices with Woonhak, who is slowly growing on him despite his best efforts, you show up and he gets distracted enough for the cadet to easily land a hit straight on his chest. Only when Woonhak waves to you with wide smiles does he understand why you don’t seem surprised at all to see the two of them there. When you and Woonhak get ready to leave, he kind of expects you to tell him to go easy on your brother next time now that you’ve seen him get in several hits but instead, you mouth a thank you towards him. Dongmin watches you ruffle Woonhak’s hair dotingly which makes the younger boy whine with something squishingly soft forming in his chest.

One time he catches you in the gym on the treadmills and challenges you to a race. Unexpectedly you agree and get him the vending machine soda he asks for when he wins without complaining about his unfair advantage. Both of you are sweaty while you’re sitting there with your legs aching, slurping on your drinks, but when Dongmin is glancing your way, you’re smiling.

And then there are the late night meetings in the Jaeger hangar. Sometimes you’re just lying on your back on the catwalk and searching for stars on the pitch black sky through the glass dome. Sometimes you talk about everything and nothing. He gets to know you there slowly.

You like the hangar because your father was a mechanic and the district smell of oil, burning metal and fresh paint reminds you of his garage. Your voice breaks when you tell him that your father was working on the Anti-Kaiju wall that was destroyed by the Category III bringing catastrophe to the Southern shore years ago. He asks about your university days and tells you about the Jaeger Academy and how it wasn’t that different from growing up in a military family. You’re the first one to ask him about what he would do if one day the monsters stopped coming. He doesn’t have an answer, not then, but later, lying in his bed alone, staring at the starless ceiling, he hopes you’re there in a future like that.

"Category IV Kaiju alert! J-Tech, prepare Siren Fury for dispatch! Rangers report to Conn-Pod immediately! I repeat: Category IV Kaiju–”

The sirens are blaring throughout the Shatterdome, waking everybody up at 4AM. Dongmin laces up his boots haphazardly and swings the door open. Down the corridor he sees his co-pilot leave Kim Donghyun’s room.

“Are you ready?” She asks while she’s zipping up her jacket.

“So ready. Let’s kick some Kaiju ass,” Dongmin grins. Finally the restlessness he has felt in the last few weeks has a space to go as they are making their way to the Conn-Pod.

Chanyoung is already at LOCCENT, tracking the Kaiju’s movements on one monitor and checking the Jaeger’s energy levels on the other with other comm officers. When Dongmin puts on the Drivesuit, he hears him in his in-ear.

“I hope you slept well, it’s a really ugly beast.”

“Don’t worry, we will send it right back where it came from,” he says, ever so confident, wincing quietly when the spinal cord is attached. Some say it’s bad luck to celebrate early but Dongmin thinks it boosts morale. Not to mention no Kaiju could take them down before, isn’t that proof enough that it’s warranted? His roommate just wishes him luck, then starts the countdown.

“Initiating drift in 3, 2, 1…”

Dongmin closes his eyes and lets memories flood him. It’s a mix of old and new, his and his co-pilot’s. A Kaiju that has left him shaking, a beach town in ruins, late night practices until his body was sore and useless and still not good enough, Kim Donghyun smiling under the sunset, ice cream smeared on his lips, and your voice echoing in his ears, the sour candy he got from you tasting sweet on his tongue.

“Drift successful, connection stable. Rangers, confirm!” Somebody yells just and he opens his eyes, feeling the familiar presence of a companion in the back of his mind. He turns his head towards his partner who smiles and he already knows what she wants to say even before she opens her mouth.

“That was so cheesy.”

“You’re one to talk,” he rolls his eyes but with no malice and they move their hands at the same time, the Jaeger’s mechanic limb following their movements swiftly.

“Siren Fury is ready for deployment,” he confirms and when the Jumphawks hatch onto the mech’s shoulders to airlift them, he imagines you watching it happen through the big monitor in the hallways. It gives him one more reason to win.

It’s not an easy victory but it feels good. Every landed punch and every plasma hit right on target. After weeks of restlessness, Dongmin finally feels like he’s doing something useful. By the time the Kaiju’s lifeless body collapses into the Japan Sea, he’s sweating, his muscles ache and there’s a beginning of a throbbing headache in his temple. Yet, he feels delirious, the good kind, like he can take on the whole world.

It’s always a bit disorientating when they are back in the Shatterdome and the Conn-Pod is detached from the Jaeger. Suddenly it’s a lot quieter in his mind even though his co-pilot’s thoughts linger for a while like ghost touches.

“Let me guess, you will go for a check-up right away,” she wiggles her brows as she’s getting out of her Drivesuit.

“Shut up and go make out with your boyfriend or something,” Dongmin rolls his eyes instead of reminding her that medical check-ups after an actual drift were important. It would be hypothetical because he used to not care much despite the protocol. It would also be useless because he can already see Donghyun waiting like a puppy behind the Conn-Pod station’s glass doors.

He gives the Kaiju nerd a nod when he walks by him into the LOCCENT and accepts the pats on the back and congratulations from the officers with his usual nonchalance. He doesn’t intend to stay long but before he could escape, the Marshal finds him and tells him about an event they should attend to secure more funding for the Jaeger program. He agrees like a good soldier would because he doesn’t really have a choice anyways, then asks for permission to leave. When granted, he slips away through hidden corridors before anybody else could stop him.

Usually he loves the part when every resident of the Shatterdome gathers to celebrate the new win of humanity. These are the only few times when they get to relax before the next Kaiju appearance. They are allowed to have fun, to drink, to forget that the attacks are getting more and more frequent and the world might be doomed. Dongmin also likes the post-Kaiju fight high, the adrenaline pumping in his veins and the feeling of being invincible. He knows he will crash soon, either with the headache worsening or exhaustion taking over, but for now he feels like he could do anything.

When he opens the door to the infirmary, he catches you pacing from one end to another.

“–would be such a bad idea to–”

You stop when you notice him and another girl jumps off the counter. It’s Minju, Dongmin recognizes her from Donghyun’s lab.

“Uhm, I will go get coffee,” she exclaims abruptly even though there’s clearly a mug half-full of dark liquid on the counter where she just sat. When she passes by Dongmin’s side she shows him thumbs up and offers a “Good job today!” cheerily.

“Thanks,” Dongmin says and waits for you to agree, to comment on his performance, to say anything but when the door is closed behind your friend, you turn your back on him and shuffle back to the computer to pull up his charts. The examination table makes a creaking sound in the silence when Dongmin sits down without having been told. He knows the drill by now.

“How are you feeling?”

When you speak up, it’s in your usual work tone, all professional. He’s a bit disappointed but he refuses to wilt like a flower.

“Good. Just a little headache,” he says and watches you get up to grab a few things.

He knows what comes, he has been in the same situation multiple times just with different nurses. Mrs Hwang who works the alternate shifts is such a mother hen, treating all of them like children. The previous nurse who left before you came was so chatty, always had a new gossip whenever he sat there. He never really craved either of their acknowledgement, but with you he almost feels desperate for it.

“Did you watch us?” He asks when you fasten the blood pressure monitor’s cuff around his arm but you just shush him. He casts his eyes down, sulky, like a scolded child all the while the cuff tightens then loosens and the machine beeps. You jot down his results before stepping closer again. Your fingers are soft on his skin while you slip the medical device off his arm.

You don’t look him in the eye when you eventually answer. “No.”

It has Dongmin reeling. All this time he has thought that everybody was busy following the broadcasts of the Kaiju fights, he thought that you saw him defeat this newest alien monster, that somehow this could maybe appeal to you, but now he’s just confused.

“Why?”

You ignore his question and pick up the penlight instead.

“Follow the light with your eyes,” you tell him and he begrudgingly follows the instructions like a champ. However, when you drop your hand and turn away, he grabs onto your wrist to pull you back. You’re clearly startled as you stumble and have to catch yourself with a hand against his chest to not fall completely onto him.

“Why?” He asks again and there’s something defiant in your eyes when you finally make eye contact with him, your arm flexing under his hold, your fingers curling into his uniform shirt. He has half a mind to let go of you but he’s also relishing in the fact that you haven’t even tried to pull away, that you’re staying close on purpose. He’s basking in your subtle jasmine scent and the warmth of your shaky exhales.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” you whisper into the barely there space between the two of you and it ceases the ugly disappointment burning in the pit of Dongmin’s belly.

“I’m fine though,” he insists and swipes his thumb over the inner side of your wrist. It’s supposed to be soothing but when your breath hitches, he can’t help a grin at the reaction he finally got out of you.

“Ranger Han–” You raise your voice and it sounds like he’s in for a reprimand or a warning. He decidedly ignores it.

“Dongmin,” he corrects with a smirk as he tilts his head and continues the caresses on your skin.

For a long moment you just stare at each other as if to see who can take it longer. He can feel his cheeks heat up despite the confident act he puts up and when your gaze drops to his lips, his pulse jumps. There’s a tremble in his fingers when you lean closer and then…

“Noona! Have you seen–” Somebody barrels through the infirmary’s double doors and Dongmin has to hold himself back from dramatically sighing when you step back until your back hits the nurse desk. “Oh, hi, hyung! Oh my god, you were so cool out there!” 

Woonhak is all smiles and pure enthusiasm. He’s also totally oblivious to what he has interrupted. Still, he’s your brother, so Dongmin puts on a smile and answers all the questions Woonhak has about this new Kaiju and their strategy against it. He also promises to give him a tour around Siren Fury’s Conn-Pod one day. You drop a piece of sour candy into his hands before he has to leave.

The next time he ends up in the infirmary, it’s not on purpose and totally not his fault.

He was looking for his co-pilot so they could run a drift simulation but she was hanging out with her boyfriend in the labs. Apparently the K-scientists found something breakthrough regarding the anatomy of the Kaijus but Dongmin was busy checking on the different shades of blue vials labelled synthetic Kaiju blood to really pay attention. Nobody around him wore masks or gloves, so he assumed it was safe enough. That little piece of shiny rock on the petri dish wasn’t even blue, so the last thing he expected when he poked it was for his skin to stain a fluorescent color.

Apparently it was a sample from a beach that got exposed to Kaiju Blue, the deadly toxic agent in the aliens’ blood, and since the team was currently working on how to reverse its destructing effect on nature, they already had an antidote on hands for small exposures. Donghyun quickly had him drink something awfully bitter that stopped the pins and needles feeling slowly spreading in his arm.

Still, it caused quite a bit of fright for everybody present, so his co-pilot dragged him to the infirmary just to be sure he would be okay. You keep it professional while she’s in there explaining what happened but as soon as she leaves, you start scolding him.

“You know very well that Kaiju blood contains toxins. What were you thinking?” You tsk, flashing him a severely disappointed look before getting something from the cabinet. Then suddenly turn back to him and point an accusing finger at him. “You’re officially banned from the labs, got it?”

You don’t even wait for an answer, just keep mumbling something about him being so eager to put his life on the line under your breath while pulling out an IV bag. When you turn back to him, you have a cannula in your hands.

“There’s really no need–” He tries to protest but you cut him off with the authority of someone who has bossed men around all her life.

“Sit back down,” you tell him and Dongmin’s bottom hits the mattress even before his mind can process the words.

He has faced a dozen Kaijus. He has faced death. But apparently nothing scares him as much as you do when you’re mad at him. He has never seen you so agitated, frantic and frustrated. So he bears it without complaint as you put him on IV drip even though when you stab the needle into his arm, he’s pretty sure you do it with more force than necessary.

Even after you make sure the fluid is flowing into his bloodstream properly and that the last remnants of blue discoloring disappeared from his fingers, you’re still hovering over him. It makes him feel bad.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me,” he says, trying to coax you into a more relaxed state.

“Then stop getting hurt!” You shove at his chest but it’s weak because you clearly don’t want to cause him more pain.

Dongmin has the audacity to smile when he catches your hand and pulls you down to sit on the bed. You let him more easily than he expected. You also make no moves to pull your hand away.

“I will try, I promise,” he tries, gentler, rubbing gently your palm.

“You better,” you huff with downturned lips and avoiding his eyes like a sulky cat and Dongmin is awfully endeared. Who knew that he just needed to get exposed to almost deadly chemicals to see this side of you? It makes him want to push his luck.

“What about a get well soon kiss?” He asks playfully and you scowl at him, unimpressed.

“You don’t deserve it.”

He pouts, playing his disappointment up, and you roll your eyes at him. Your hand remains in his though and you don’t move from his infirmary bed, so he’s not complaining.

He can’t tell whether it’s from the IV bag’s contents or the antidote from earlier, but soon his eyelids start getting heavy. Just before he tips over the edge and slips into a dreamless sleep, he feels soft lips against his forehead. He falls asleep with a stupid smile on his face.

Before meeting you, Dongmin used to think that nothing can compare to the feeling of being invincible in a Jaeger. Now, he’s not so sure anymore. You make him feel on top of the world too.

END NOTES. title from the keshi song. header pic from the BEAT High magazine behind cut.

☆ BOYNEXTDOOR masterlist

💌 askbox

No, hell, in your experience, smelled like salt in the air and expensive sunscreen. Like sun-warmed pavement and blooming jasmine climbing over white-painted fences. Like the ocean sitting just close enough to hear from your bedroom window, taunting you with the promise of peace you were never actually going to get.

Hell smelled like summer in Jeju Island. And unfortunately, you had just arrived.

You stood in the driveway of your family’s beach house with your sunglasses sliding down your nose and your patience already clinically deceased, staring at the towering white house like it had personally offended you. Which, honestly, it had. The place looked like every rich family’s Pinterest board had thrown up on it, ivy curling around stone walls, floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the blinding afternoon sun, hydrangeas blooming obnoxiously blue along the front walk.

Beautiful. Expensive. Full of memories you preferred not to examine too closely. Your mother stepped out of the car behind you with the kind of energy only women with fresh manicures and vacation plans possessed.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said, already fishing her oversized sunhat from her tote bag. “Help your father with the luggage.” 

You adjusted your sunglasses and gave the house one last deeply unimpressed look. “I’m considering simply walking into the ocean instead.”

From somewhere near the trunk, your father sighed. “And every year, you make the same joke.”

“Because every year, the ocean remains an option.”

Your mother clicked her tongue, the universal sound of maternal disappointment, and handed you two bags anyway. “Be dramatic later. We’re already late for dinner at the club tonight.”

Of course you were. Summer in Jeju Island wasn’t really summer. It was a social performance with a beachfront view. Three months of yacht parties, country club dinners, charity galas disguised as drinking events, and the same old-money families pretending they didn’t all know each other’s scandals already. Everyone here had grown up together, gone to the same private schools, kissed the same people, ruined each other’s lives in aesthetically pleasing ways. It was beautiful. It was exhausting.

It was home, in the most unfortunate sense of the word.

You hauled your bag up the front steps, pushing the door open with your shoulder. The familiar coolness of the house greeted you immediately, air conditioning and polished wood and lemon-scented cleaning products. Somewhere upstairs, your childhood room waited exactly as you’d left it last August, probably still holding the ghosts of every bad decision you’d made between seventeen and twenty-two. A charming thought. 

You dropped your bags by the staircase and wandered toward the kitchen, where your mother was already directing the opening of windows and the placement of flowers like she was staging a home magazine shoot.

She looked over her shoulder at you. “And before I forget,” she said, in the dangerously casual tone mothers used right before ruining your day, “be nice to the Lees this summer.”

You stopped mid-reach for the lemonade pitcher. Slowly, you turned. “Excuse me?”

“The Lees,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t just spoken your personal curse into existence. “We’re having them over next weekend, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t start any unnecessary arguments.”

You stared at her. There was a long, silent moment in which your soul quietly left your body and floated somewhere over the Atlantic. Then, “I’d like it officially noted,” you said, setting the pitcher down with great dignity, “that I never start the arguments.”

Your mother gave you a look. You gave her one back. She won. “You absolutely do.”

“I finish them beautifully,” you corrected. “That’s different.”

She sighed, turning back to her flowers. “Just behave. Especially with Heeseung.” And there it was. The name. The final nail in the coffin. Lee Heeseung. Your lifelong enemy. Your annual migraine. The human embodiment of every smug text message left on read.

Next door. Living, unfortunately.

You leaned against the kitchen counter and closed your eyes for one brief moment, like maybe if you didn’t move, the universe would take pity on you and reverse time. It did not. Because of course he was here. He was always here.

Every summer since childhood had come with three guarantees: humidity, your mother’s obsession with hosting dinners, and Lee Heeseung existing entirely too close to your personal space. Your families had been friends forever, which meant your lives had been annoyingly, inescapably intertwined since before either of you had enough common sense to avoid each other.

There were photos somewhere, horrifying evidence, of the two of you as children on the same beach, him with scraped knees and you with a missing front tooth, already looking like you were one wrong comment away from attempted murder.

Some things, apparently, were timeless. As teenagers, it had only gotten worse. He’d grown into his face in the kind of unfair way that should’ve required government intervention, too handsome, too charming, too aware of both. The kind of boy adults loved and girls wrote bad poetry about. Golden boy energy in expensive linen. Meanwhile, you had perfected the art of making eye contact while verbally destroying someone. Naturally, you got along terribly.

Every summer had become its own tradition of verbal warfare, stolen drinks at parties, arguments on docks at midnight, insults dressed up as flirting and flirting disguised as threats. There had been one almost-kiss when you were nineteen, drunk and angry and standing far too close on his parents’ balcony.

Neither of you had ever mentioned it again. Civilization had survived. Barely. Your mother was still talking. “His mother mentioned he got back last week.”

Wonderful. Fantastic. Thrilling.“Did she also mention if he’s developed the ability to shut up?” you asked.

“She mentioned he’s doing very well.” Of course he was. Lee Heeseung was always doing very well. He probably woke up looking expensive and emotionally unavailable. You poured yourself a glass of lemonade with the gravity of someone preparing for battle.

“Great. I can’t wait to not care.”

Your mother pointed a flower stem at you. “I mean it. No fighting.”

You took a sip. “With all due respect, mother, if Lee Heeseung and I stop fighting, one of us has probably died.”

From the front yard came the low sound of a car door shutting. Then another. Your father’s voice drifted in from outside, greeting someone. Your mother brightened instantly. “Oh! Perfect timing.”

No. Absolutely not. You set the glass down very, very slowly. “No,” you said. She smiled the smile of a woman who had already decided your fate.

“Yes. Go say hello.” You looked toward the window like it might offer an emergency exit. Sunlight poured across the garden. Beyond the hydrangeas and white fencing sat the neighboring house, just as grand, just as obnoxiously perfect. And somewhere in that orbit of privilege and poor decision-making was Heeseung. Back for another summer. Meaning your peace, your dignity, and probably your better judgment had all officially expired.

You inhaled once. Exhaled. Straightened your sunglasses like armor. “Well,” you muttered, heading for the door, “welcome back to hell.”

The universe, unfortunately, had a sense of humor. Because the second you stepped out onto the front porch, armed with sunglasses, a bad attitude, and the vague hope that maybe your father had been greeting the mailman instead of your greatest seasonal inconvenience, you saw him.

Leaning against the hood of his car like he’d been placed there by an overly confident romance novelist. Of course. Of course Lee Heeseung would make an entrance by simply existing in expensive sunlight.

His car was obnoxious. Sleek, black, expensive enough to probably have its own trust fund. It sat in the driveway of the house next door like a personal insult, gleaming under the late afternoon sun while he leaned against it with all the irritating ease of a man who had never once struggled to be liked. White linen shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Dark sunglasses pushed back into his hair. Skin already carrying the kind of summer tan people paid money to fake.

And that smirk. That stupid, smug, entirely too familiar smirk. Your father was by the front gate, already deep in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Lee, who were as lovely as ever, warm, elegant, and somehow still producing that man without demanding an apology from the universe.

Mrs. Lee spotted you first. “Oh, there she is!” There was genuine affection in her voice, which made this all worse. You pasted on your best socially acceptable smile and walked down the steps with the slow, resigned grace of someone approaching their own execution.

Mrs. Lee kissed your cheek, your mother appeared from somewhere behind you like she’d been waiting for this exact moment, and within seconds both sets of parents were exchanging the usual summer pleasantries.

How was the drive?How long are you staying?You’ve gotten so grown up.We must have dinner together soon.

The rich-people mating dance. You answered where necessary, smiled where required, and tried very hard not to look to your left. Naturally, you failed. Because Heeseung was looking directly at you. Still leaning there. Still smirking. Like he’d been waiting for this. You crossed your arms instinctively. He pushed himself off the car. Slowly. Like a villain with excellent posture. Then, with the audacity of a man untouched by divine punishment, he looked you over once, head to toe, unhurried, deeply annoying, and said, “Missed me?”

You stared at him. There were many possible responses. Most of them involved violence. Your mother, standing three feet away, would probably object to murder in broad daylight, so you settled for a look sharp enough to qualify as attempted manslaughter. “I was actually having a wonderful day,” you said, “but thanks for asking.”

His mouth twitched. Your father laughed because traitors lived everywhere. Heeseung slid his hands into his pockets, infuriatingly calm. “Good. I’d hate to ruin your summer that quickly.”

“Please,” you said sweetly. “You ruin my summer just by continuing to exist.”

Mrs. Lee sighed in the fond, exhausted way of a woman who had witnessed this dance for over a decade. “See? Exactly the same.”

“Worse, actually,” you said.

“At least she admits she thinks about me,” Heeseung replied.

You inhaled. Exhaled. Decided prison orange would not flatter you. Your mother gave you a warning glance over the rim of her sunglasses, the universal signal for ‘do not embarrass me in front of the neighbors’. You smiled tightly. Heeseung smiled back like he was enjoying this far too much. He was. He always did. That was the problem.

From the outside, the two of you probably looked like some kind of old-Hollywood screwball romance, beautiful people exchanging insults in linen by the sea. From the inside, it felt more like mutual destruction with excellent lighting. Mr. Lee was discussing the yacht club renovation with your father now, and the adults had drifted slightly toward the garden, leaving just enough space for danger.

You turned toward him, lowering your voice. “If you’re planning to spend this summer being extra unbearable, I’d appreciate a warning so I can emotionally prepare.”

He leaned slightly closer, sunglasses hiding his eyes but not the amusement written all over his face. “Emotionally prepare?” he repeated. “You? I thought your whole thing was pretending not to have emotions.”

You scoffed. “My whole thing is surviving despite your presence.”

“Cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

“I didn’t. I said your delusion was cute.” There it was. The familiar rhythm. Effortless. Annoying. Dangerous in the way old habits always were.

You hated how easy it was to fall back into it, like no time had passed at all. Like last summer hadn’t ended with the two of you arguing on the marina docks at two in the morning, both too stubborn to say whatever actually needed saying. Like the almost-kiss years ago had never happened. Like your pulse didn’t do something deeply embarrassing every time he stepped too close.

You adjusted your sunglasses and took one deliberate step back. “Try not to get hit by a yacht this summer, Heeseung. It would create paperwork.”

He grinned. “There she is. I was worried college made you soft.” You smiled back, bright and false and weaponized. “And I was hoping maturity had found you. Shame we’re both disappointed.”

Mrs. Lee called his name from the garden before he could answer, and for one brief, shining moment, you experienced peace. He glanced toward his parents, then back at you. That smirk again. Like he knew something you didn’t. Which was unacceptable. “See you around, neighbor.”

You folded your arms tighter. “Threatening me already?”

“Just making promises.” God, you hated him. Truly. Deeply. Artistically. He turned then, walking back toward his parents with the lazy confidence of someone who had never once doubted the world would make room for him. Mrs. Lee adjusted his collar as he passed, and he let her, smiling in that easy, golden-boy way that made adults adore him and should have been scientifically illegal.

Spawn of the devil. Your father was still laughing at something Mr. Lee had said. Betrayal, everywhere. A few more polite goodbyes later, the Lees disappeared back into their perfectly landscaped kingdom next door, and you stood in the driveway watching Heeseung disappear behind the white fence like a storm cloud in designer sunglasses.

Your mother touched your arm. “You could at least pretend to be nicer.”

“I was radiant with charm.”

“You looked like you were planning arson.”

“That was charm.” She sighed, already turning back toward the house. Inside, the air was cool again, but your mood had fully committed to violence. You followed her to the kitchen, where she resumed unpacking with suspicious calm, the calm of someone about to ruin your evening.

You should have known. “By the way,” she said casually, arranging lemons in a bowl like a woman with no regard for her daughter’s suffering, “we’re having dinner with the Lees on Saturday.”

You stopped. “No.”

She didn’t even look up. “Yes.”

“Cancel.”

“No.”

“Fake your death.”

She placed the final lemon down and finally turned to face you. “Be serious.”

“I am serious. I’m willing to help stage it.” Your mother smiled in the dangerous way mothers did when they’d already won. “Saturday. Seven o’clock. Try not to start a war before dessert.”

You stared at her. At the lemons. At the kitchen. At the universe. Somewhere next door, Lee Heeseung was probably alive and smug. And now there would be dinner. Shared wine. Forced politeness. His knee probably brushing yours under the table just to ruin your life.

Your villain origin story, apparently, came with a seafood course. You picked up your abandoned lemonade and took a long sip like it contained stronger coping mechanisms. Summer had officially begun.

Tuesday arrived the way summer days in Jeju Island always did, slowly, lazily, like the sun itself had nowhere better to be.

By ten in the morning, the entire town had already settled into its usual rhythm. Tennis whites at the country club. Mothers with iced coffees and expensive sunglasses pretending not to gossip. Men in linen shirts discussing boats like they were discussing national policy. Teenagers and college kids spilling toward the beach in swimsuits and bad intentions. Everything here moved with the polished ease of old money and old habits. You hated how easy it was to slip back into it. There was something dangerous about returning to a place that remembered every version of you.

The boardwalk still creaked in the same places. The little café near the marina still sold iced vanilla lattes overpriced enough to count as emotional damage. The beach still stretched golden and endless, all warm sand and glittering water and sun-drunk afternoons that made bad decisions feel like destiny instead of stupidity.

Summer here had a way of convincing people they were invincible. It was probably responsible for at least seventy percent of your mistakes. By afternoon, you’d decided your mother’s constant rearranging of flowers and reminders about Saturday dinner were enough to qualify as psychological warfare, so you escaped. You packed a beach tote with the seriousness of a military operation, sunscreen, sunglasses, a bottle of water, your newest hardcover, lip gloss, and the kind of bikini your mother would call unnecessary and your best friend would call revenge.

Then you walked the familiar path down to the shore. The beach behind the summer houses was quieter than the public side near the clubs and restaurants. Less crowded. More private. A stretch of pale sand bordered by dunes and sea grass, where the houses sat like silent judges overlooking the ocean. This part belonged to families like yours and the Lees, generational wealth and carefully curated summer traditions.

It also meant escape was limited. Still, the ocean was worth it. The salt-heavy breeze hit first, warm and familiar against your skin. Then the sound, the endless hush and crash of waves folding into shore, gulls overhead, distant laughter carried by the wind. You slipped your sandals off and let the sand burn briefly against your feet before finding your usual spot. Far enough from the water to keep your book safe. Close enough to hear the tide.

Perfect.

You spread your towel out, dropped your bag beside it, and stretched out on your back like a woman personally committed to becoming one with summer. Sunlight soaked into your skin almost instantly, warm and golden and heavy in that way only coastal afternoons could be. Your bikini was barely enough fabric to qualify as clothing, but that was the point. Tiny black straps against sun-kissed skin, sunglasses shielding your eyes, a paperback novel open against your stomach.

Peace. Actual peace. No dinner invitations. No passive-aggressive mothers. No Lee Heeseung. Just heat and salt and the kind of silence that felt earned. You read for a while, though read was a generous term for occasionally turning a page while mostly listening to the ocean and contemplating whether adulthood could be legally postponed forever. The book was good. The sun was better.

A few familiar faces passed along the shore, neighbors, old classmates, people you’d known your whole life in the vague, privileged way beach towns operated. There were waves, smiles, the occasional “welcome back,” but no one lingered. Exactly how you liked it. At some point, you must have drifted halfway to sleep, caught in that hazy summer state where time stopped mattering. The sun had shifted warmer against your shoulders. The edges of your book blurred. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed.

Then a shadow fell across you. Immediately, your soul knew. Without even opening your eyes, you sighed. Deeply. Spiritually. Like a woman who had seen the face of God and found it disappointing. “No.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, “That’s not very neighborly.” Of course. You opened one eye. And there he was. Lee Heeseung, standing over your towel like some sort of beautifully dressed natural disaster. Shirtless, because apparently humility was not part of his summer wardrobe. Swim trunks slung low on his hips, sunglasses on, skin bronzed by the sun like he’d been handcrafted by someone with a personal vendetta against your patience.

Water still clung to his shoulders, droplets sliding slowly down his chest like the universe itself was trying to make your life harder. Annoying. Extremely annoying. You closed your eye again. “If I ignore you long enough,” you said, “will you evaporate?”

“I think that only works on your personality.” You considered throwing your book at him. It was hardcover. Tempting. Instead, you shifted onto one elbow and looked up at him over your sunglasses. “Don’t you have a yacht to crash or someone else to emotionally inconvenience?”

He grinned, infuriatingly pleased with himself, and sat down uninvited at the edge of your towel like personal boundaries were a concept he’d heard of once and rejected on principle. “I was swimming.”

“I can see that. Congratulations on your ability to enter water.”

“Thank you. I worked very hard.”

You stared at him. He stared back. There was something uniquely exhausting about Heeseung’s presence, like he moved through the world assuming everything, and everyone, would make room for him. And worse, they usually did. He looked out toward the ocean, arms resting loosely over his knees. For a second, with the sunlight catching against his skin and the sea stretching endlessly behind him, he looked less like your lifelong enemy and more like one of those postcard summers people spent the rest of their lives trying to recreate.

Which was dangerous. You hated when he looked cinematic. It made being annoyed significantly less efficient. “You’re ruining my peaceful beach solitude,” you informed him.

“I noticed. You seemed too happy.”

“I wasn’t happy. I was tolerating existence.”

“Even worse.”

You let your book fall shut against your lap. “This is exactly why people warn me about you.” He tilted his head.

“No, they warn people about you. I’m universally beloved.”

You scoffed. “By mothers and women with no standards.”

“And yet here you are, talking to me in a bikini.”

You sat up fully. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was here first.”

“Mm. Territorial.”

“Get off my towel.”

He laughed then, low and easy, carried by the wind and the waves, and it did something profoundly irritating to your bloodstream. That laugh had been the soundtrack to half your summers. Bonfires at sixteen. Pool parties at eighteen. Drunken arguments on docks at twenty. Memory was a cruel thing. You stood abruptly.

Enough. Absolutely enough. If you stayed any longer, you’d either drown him or make eye contact for too long, and both options felt equally dangerous. With the sharp efficiency of someone preserving her dignity by force, you started packing your things. Your book went into your tote. Sunscreen. Water bottle. Sunglasses pushed into your hair.

Heeseung leaned back on his hands, watching the whole performance with zero remorse. “Leaving already?”

“Yes.”

“Because of me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

A pause. Then, truthfully: “Yes.” His smile widened. You hated how much he enjoyed winning tiny wars. You shoved your sandals on and slung your bag over your shoulder, glaring down at him with all the righteous fury of a woman denied a peaceful tanning session. “You are genuinely the most irritating person I have ever met.”

He looked up at you, sunlight in his hair, smirk already waiting. “And yet you keep coming back every summer.” You opened your mouth. Closed it. Because unfortunately, he had a point, and you refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing that aloud. Instead, you gave him one last glare sharp enough to qualify as a formal threat and turned toward home.

The walk back felt warmer somehow, the sun heavier against your skin, sand clinging to your ankles. Behind you, his laughter followed, soft at first, then clearer as the wind carried it over the shoreline. Infuriating. Familiar. Summer itself, if summer had a god complex and perfect teeth. You didn’t look back. But you could still hear him. And somehow, that felt worse.

Saturday arrived wrapped in sunlight and bad intentions. By six in the evening, the entire house smelled like citrus candles, your mother’s perfume, and the kind of expensive stress that came with hosting, or in this case, being hosted by, the Lees. The sun was beginning its slow descent over the water, pouring honey-colored light through the bedroom windows and turning everything soft and golden in a way that made even impending social torture look romantic.

Outside, Jeju Island was in full performance mode. The streets near the coast glowed with polished summer wealth, convertibles pulling into curved driveways, tennis bracelets catching the light, champagne already being chilled somewhere on a yacht that absolutely did not need to exist. The ocean breeze drifted in through the cracked windows carrying salt, jasmine, and the faint sounds of someone laughing too loudly three houses down.

Everything looked beautiful. Which was unfortunate, because beauty made suffering feel theatrical. You stood in the middle of your bedroom surrounded by what looked like the aftermath of a small fashion war. Dresses across the bed. Shoes abandoned like casualties. A hairbrush on the floor. Three rejected outfit options hanging from your closet door like public executions.

And in your hands, your salvation. An oversized gray hoodie. Soft. Reliable. Emotionally supportive. The kind of hoodie that said I do not wish to be perceived. Perfect. You pulled it over your head with the solemnity of a woman entering battle. It swallowed you immediately, sleeves too long, hem brushing your thighs, the entire look somewhere between off-duty model and suspicious raccoon. You stared at yourself in the mirror.

Excellent. If all went according to plan, the Lees would assume you were a drifter who had wandered in from the beach and politely ask you to leave before appetizers. Peace at last. Your mother entered without knocking, because privacy was apparently a concept reserved for only the elites. She stopped in the doorway.

Looked at you. Looked at the hoodie. Looked back at you. Silence. Long enough to be considered legally threatening. “No,” she said.

You folded your arms. “Counterpoint: yes.”

“No.”

“This is fashion.”

“This is a cry for help.”

You turned back to the mirror, adjusting the hood with dramatic precision. “I’m cultivating mystery. They’ll be intrigued.”

“They’ll think I forgot to raise you.”

“Honestly, that might buy me sympathy.”

Your mother crossed the room with the terrifying calm of a woman who had already made her decision three minutes ago. From behind her back, like a magician revealing the final trick, she produced a dress. Yellow. Of course it was yellow, why? Because, summer, darling. Not soft yellow. Not subtle yellow. The kind of rich, golden, sunlight yellow that looked like it belonged in a movie where everyone had unresolved feelings and excellent cheekbones.

A sleek sundress. Fitted enough to be dangerous, effortless enough to pretend it wasn’t. You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

“Yes.”

“It looks like optimism.”

“It looks like summer.”

“It looks like a setup.”

She held it up against you with complete disregard for your emotional well-being. “It looks like you clean up beautifully.” There it was. The betrayal. Because that was exactly the problem. You knew the dress looked good. That made it worse. Wearing the dress meant effort. Effort meant possibility. Possibility meant Lee Heeseung seeing you in a dress that suggested maybe, potentially, under the right atmospheric conditions, you had once been nice to someone.

Unacceptable. You stepped back. “I would rather be hit by a jet ski.”

“Wonderful. You can wear this to the hospital afterward.”

“Mother.”

She sighed, setting the dress on the bed like a final verdict. “You are not wearing that hoodie to dinner with the Lees. Mrs. Lee adores you, your father is already pretending this evening will be civilized, and I refuse to let my daughter look like she escaped from a beach bonfire.” You looked at the hoodie. The hoodie looked back. A fallen soldier. Somewhere in the distance, a gull cried out over the ocean like it, too, understood your suffering.

You flopped backward onto the bed with all the grace of a dying Victorian heroine. “This is oppression.”

“This is dinner.”

“There’s seafood involved. That makes it worse.”

Your mother sat beside you, smoothing a wrinkle from the yellow dress. For a moment, the teasing slipped into something softer. “You’ve been doing this with him for years,” she said.

You stared at the ceiling. “Doing what?” She gave you a look, not sharp, not smug, just the tired wisdom of a woman who had watched two stubborn people circle each other for too long.

“This one. The fighting. The pretending.” You groaned dramatically and threw an arm over your face. “If this conversation ends with you calling him charming, I’m moving to another country.”

She laughed then, quiet and warm. “I’m just saying… maybe try not to make tonight a battlefield.” Too late. The battlefield had excellent landscaping and probably a wine pairing. Still, after she left, the room felt quieter. The golden light had shifted lower now, stretching long shadows across the floorboards. From your window, you could see the neighboring house through the trees, white walls glowing in the sunset, lights beginning to flicker on, elegant and smug and entirely too close.

Somewhere over there was Heeseung. Probably looking expensive. Probably being annoying. Probably existing with that stupid face. You hated that your first instinct was to wonder what he’d be wearing. Probably linen. Men like him were always in linen, like they were personally sponsored by summer. With a sigh heavy enough to qualify as literature, you sat up and stared at the yellow dress again. It stared back, victorious.

Fine. Fine. You changed. And, because the universe enjoyed humiliation as a hobby, your mother was right. The dress fit like it had been designed specifically to ruin your peace. Thin straps, bare shoulders, the kind of silhouette that looked effortless and absolutely was not. Against sun-kissed skin, the yellow made you look like you belonged in this town, like expensive mistakes and beautiful bad decisions.

You hated it immediately. Mostly because you looked good. You stood in front of the mirror, turning once, suspicious. Like maybe if you stared hard enough, you’d find a flaw large enough to justify changing back into the hoodie. There wasn’t one. Traitorous fabric. You added gold hoops, minimal makeup, lip gloss sharp enough to count as a weapon, and tried very hard not to think about why any of this mattered.

It didn’t. Obviously. You were dressing for yourself. And if Lee Heeseung happened to see you and suffer emotionally, that was simply community service. Downstairs, your father was already waiting by the door with car keys and the resigned expression of a man who knew he was escorting two women into battle and had chosen survival over commentary. He looked up when you descended the stairs. Paused. Smiled. “Well,” he said, “you look expensive.”

You picked up your clutch. “I plan to act accordingly.” Your mother beamed like she’d personally invented beauty. You refused to acknowledge this. Outside, the evening had turned warm and velvet-soft, the sky streaked pink and gold over the ocean. The walk next door was barely two minutes, just enough time for dread to fully settle in.

The Lee house stood glowing at the end of the path, every window lit, laughter already drifting from inside. Dinner. Wine. Politeness. Heeseung. You inhaled slowly as your father reached for the front gate. Summer, apparently, had decided subtle suffering wasn’t enough. It wanted dinner and a show. The Lee house always looked like it belonged in a magazine spread titled People With Better Lives Than You.

White stone, warm lights spilling from enormous windows, ivy climbing tastefully up the walls like even the plants here had trust funds. The front garden smelled like jasmine and sea air and whatever expensive candle Mrs. Lee probably had burning somewhere inside. Everything about it radiated polished wealth and the kind of family dinners where people said things like summering abroad.

You hated how nice it was. You hated even more that you’d spent half your childhood here. Birthday dinners. Pool parties. Christmases once, before everyone got too busy and too grown up for normal traditions. There were memories tucked into every corner of this place, most of them involving some version of you losing an argument to Lee Heeseung and plotting revenge by dessert.

Tonight, unfortunately, promised tradition. Mrs. Lee opened the door before you could even knock, all elegance and warmth in a silk dress the color of champagne. “There you are!” She kissed your cheek before you had time to prepare emotionally. “Look at you,” she said, holding you at arm’s length. “Absolutely gorgeous.” From behind you, your mother made the smug little sound of victory.

You chose to ignore it. “You say that now,” you said, stepping inside, “but let’s revisit after I inevitably insult someone over seafood.”

Mrs. Lee laughed like she always did, like your bad attitude was somehow charming instead of hereditary. “Nonsense. We’re all family here.” That was the problem. The foyer opened into soft golden light and polished wood floors, the low hum of conversation drifting in from the dining room. Somewhere, glasses clinked. Somewhere else, your father and Mr. Lee were already discussing something expensive and unnecessary, probably boats.

You slipped off your sandals and stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the house wrapping around you. And then, of course, there he was. Lee Heeseung, leaning against the archway to the living room like he’d been strategically placed there for maximum irritation.

Black button-down this time, sleeves rolled, top buttons undone just enough to be a public health concern. Dark slacks. Watch glinting at his wrist. Hair slightly messy in that suspiciously intentional way attractive men got away with. He looked like summer trouble dressed in designer clothing. Annoying. Extremely annoying.

His gaze found you immediately. Paused. And for one dangerous second, he said nothing. Just looked. Slowly. Unhurriedly. Like the room had gone quiet around it. It started at your feet, moved upward, and landed finally on your face with something unreadable flickering behind his expression. Not smug. Worse. Appreciative. You wanted to throw yourself directly into the ocean. Instead, you smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that had ruined lesser men.

“Try not to look too shocked. I know basic hygiene is a surprise.”

His mouth twitched. “There she is,” he said, voice low and easy. “I was worried the dress had made you nice.”

Your mother, traitor that she was, immediately linked arms with Mrs. Lee. “Oh, perfect,” she said. “You two can catch up while we finish setting the table.”

No. Absolutely not. You opened your mouth. “No—” Too late. The parents had already vanished with the terrifying efficiency of adults who believed proximity solved everything. Your father gave you a look on the way out, the kind that said ‘behave’, and disappeared toward the kitchen like a man abandoning a sinking ship.

And suddenly, it was just the two of you. Silence. Not awkward. Worse. Familiar. The kind of silence built over years of unfinished conversations and too much history. You crossed your arms. He mirrored nothing, which somehow made it more annoying. In your deeply correct and entirely unbiased opinion, “catching up” with Lee Heeseung translated loosely to trying to have a normal conversation without committing a felony.

A challenge, certainly. You managed three words. “Well. You’re alive.” He nodded thoughtfully.

“Still devastatingly handsome too, thanks for noticing.”

You sighed. “This is why people drink before family dinners.”

“And yet you came sober. Brave.”

You were preparing a truly excellent insult, something elegant, devastating, probably Pulitzer-worthy, when Mrs. Lee’s voice floated in from the dining room. “Dinner!” Saved by seafood. You gave him one final look. “Don’t make me regret this.”

He stepped aside, one hand gesturing toward the dining room like some smug Regency villain. “No promises.”

The dining room looked exactly like every old-money summer dinner should. Long table, linen napkins, candles despite it still being warm outside. Too many wine glasses for any morally responsible evening. French doors stood open to the back patio where the ocean breeze drifted in soft and salted, carrying the sound of waves somewhere beyond the dunes. Sunset had bled fully into evening now, the sky darkening violet over the water.

Everything felt cinematic. Which was rude, considering your mood. Seats were assigned by parental conspiracy, obviously. You discovered yours and stopped. Heeseung. Right next to you. Naturally. Mrs. Lee smiled far too innocently. “I thought it would be nice.” It would not. It absolutely would not. But protesting would only make it worse, so you sat with the grace of a woman choosing violence internally. Heeseung took the seat beside you, looking entirely too pleased with the universe.

Across the table, your mother was already discussing someone’s daughter getting engaged. Your father had wine. Mr. Lee had opinions about coastal property values. Everyone settled into conversation with the practiced ease of people who had done this for decades. And somehow, despite all of it, your entire awareness kept narrowing to the person sitting six inches to your right.

His knee brushed yours under the table. Lightly. Accidental. Probably. You froze for exactly half a second. Then refused to acknowledge it because dignity still mattered. You reached for your water. His hand reached for the bread basket. Fingers brushed. Again. This time, definitely not accidental. You turned your head. He was already looking at you. Calm. Composed. Infuriating.

Like he hadn’t just weaponized table manners. You smiled without showing teeth. “If you’re trying to start something over dinner rolls, I’d like you to know that’s a deeply embarrassing way to die.”

His expression remained perfectly neutral as he handed you the basket. “I’m just being polite.”

“Suspicious already.” 

Across from you, Mrs. Lee sighed fondly. “You two are exactly the same.”

You and Heeseung answered at the same time. “Absolutely not.” Everyone laughed. You considered faking your death. Dinner continued in that dangerous, glittering way summer dinners did, wine poured generously, stories repeated beautifully, everyone glowing a little softer in candlelight. Your parents kept bringing up old memories.

That camping trip when you were thirteen. The sailing lessons disaster. The time Heeseung pushed you into the pool and you threw his phone into the ocean. Mrs. Lee was still mad about that one. You maintained it had been justified. Everyone treated the two of you like old friends. Like there had always been affection under the arguments.

Like this was charming instead of mutually assured destruction. It was infuriating. Because they weren’t wrong. That was the worse part. Every now and then, while someone else talked, you’d catch him looking at you. Not casually. Not the usual teasing glance. Longer. Quieter. Like he was trying to remember something. Or decide something. Too much. Entirely too much.

You focused on your wine. On your fork. Your plate. Literally anything else. But awareness sat there anyway, warm and sharp and impossible to ignore. The yellow dress suddenly felt like a mistake. The ocean breeze moved through the open doors. Candles flickered. Someone laughed at the far end of the table. And beside you, Lee Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking unfairly good in soft light and expensive black clothing, like every bad decision summer had ever offered.

You hated him. Probably. Mostly. Which was becoming, very inconveniently, less convincing by the second. 

By the time dinner ended, the sky had softened into that strange in-between hour where everything looked prettier than it had any right to. The table was abandoned in stages, wine glasses left half-full, dessert plates forgotten, your father and Mr. Lee still arguing about boats like it was a blood sport. Mrs. Lee and your mother disappeared into the kitchen with the kind of determined energy that suggested they were about to wash dishes neither of them had touched all evening.

Which left the younger generation exactly where summer always did. Outside. Near water. With alcohol. And poor judgment. Someone, probably Jay, because it always felt like a Jay decision, had suggested a beach fire, and within twenty minutes everyone had drifted down toward the private stretch of shoreline behind the houses like it was instinct.

It kind of was. This was what summers here were made of. Bonfires and old friends. Salt in your hair. Music from someone’s phone speaker. Drinks passed around without anyone asking whose they were. The beach at night felt different than it did during the day. Softer somehow. Less polished. The tide rolled in slow and silver under the moonlight, waves folding quietly against the shore while the bonfire crackled warm against the cooling night air. Sand clung to bare ankles, the fire throwing gold over familiar faces.

It made everyone look younger. Closer to the versions of yourselves that had first started all this. Sunoo arrived first, carrying drinks and looking like downtown Cove had personally appointed him its stylish representative. Sharp grin, prettier than most women, and already prepared to be everyone’s problem. “Look who survived dinner,” he said dramatically when he spotted you. “I was taking bets.”

“You should’ve bet against me,” you said, taking the drink he offered. “I nearly drowned in polite conversation.”

“Tragic. And in that dress too. What a loss.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Jay called from where he and Sunghoon were attempting to set up folding chairs in the sand with all the competence of men raised by money.

Jay looked exactly the same as always: clean-cut, expensive taste, and permanently carrying himself like he was five minutes away from judging someone’s life choices. Which, to be fair, he usually was. Sunghoon stood beside him, all cool quiet and expensive silence, somehow managing to look elegant while losing a fight against a beach chair.

Some people were simply born unfair. From farther down the shore came the sound of laughter, bright and familiar, and then Eunchae appeared with Yunjin and Yoonchae trailing behind her, all of them carrying the kind of chaotic energy that guaranteed tonight would end with at least one regrettable decision. Eunchae saw you first and immediately pointed.

“There she is! The woman of the hour.” You narrowed your eyes. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is,” Yunjin said cheerfully, pulling you into a quick hug. “We’ve heard about dinner. We’re here for details.”

“There are no details.”

“There are always details,” Yoonchae said.

And then, because the universe had apparently decided your suffering needed an audience, Lee Heeseung arrived. Late, naturally. Walking down the path from the houses with his sleeves rolled and his hands in his pockets like he was entering a film scene instead of a beach fire. The ocean breeze moved through his hair, and for one deeply annoying second, every girl within a ten-foot radius visibly remembered he was attractive.

Including you. Unfortunately. Sunoo, traitor that he was, smirked immediately. “And there’s the other half of our favorite summer divorce.”

“Please,” you said. “I’d need to marry him first, and I do have standards.” Heeseung dropped into the sand beside the fire like he belonged there, which, annoyingly, he did, and looked at you over the rim of the beer Jay handed him. “She says that now. Give it ten years.”

“In ten years, I’ll still be filing restraining orders.”

“Romantic,” Yunjin sighed. Everyone laughed. That was the problem with old friends, they remembered too much. This group had grown up together in fragments. Family dinners, yacht parties, beach bonfires at sixteen, too many summers collapsing into one long memory of sunburns and terrible choices. They’d all witnessed the evolution of whatever it was between you and Heeseung. Which meant they were insufferable about it. Sunoo stretched out dramatically in the sand.

“I still think you two should just get married and save us all time.”

Sunghoon, staring into the fire like a philosopher trapped in a luxury campaign, added, “At this point, it would actually be less dramatic.”

Jay nodded once. “Financially, it makes sense.”

You looked around the circle. “I need better friends.”

“No,” Eunchae said, grinning, “you need to admit you’ve been flirting through mutual destruction for like eight years.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “That is an incredibly rude accusation.”

Heeseung took a sip of his drink, far too calm. “She’s right.” 

You turned toward him so fast it nearly counted as whiplash. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “You’re meaner when you like someone.”

Sunoo made the loudest, most disrespectful sound of delight known to man. “Oh my god, we’re finally saying it.”

“We are saying nothing,” you snapped.

Yunjin leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Should we bring up the balcony incident?”

Absolutely not. You pointed at her. “If you value our friendship, you’ll choose silence.” Too late.

Eunchae gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, the almost-kiss.” And there it was. Like a match dropped into gasoline. The balcony incident. Nineteen years old. One of Jay’s stupid summer parties. Too much champagne. Too much moonlight. Too much unresolved tension and a stupidly beautiful balcony overlooking the ocean. You and Heeseung had been alone for exactly seven minutes before an argument turned into standing too close, then silence, then that terrible suspended second where both people know exactly what’s about to happen.

You’d almost kissed. Almost. Then someone had opened the balcony door, reality had returned, and both of you had spent the next three years pretending it never happened. Civilization had survived. Barely. Around the fire, everyone looked delighted. You wanted the ocean to take you.

“It was not an almost-kiss,” you said with dignity.

“It absolutely was,” Sunoo replied.

“There was tension,” Yoonchae added.

“There was eye contact,” Eunchae said.

“There was champagne,” Yunjin said solemnly.

Jay, like a judge delivering sentence, finished: “That counts.”

You looked to Heeseung for support. A mistake. Because he’d gone strangely quiet. Not smug. Not teasing. Quiet. His gaze stayed on the fire, beer loose in his hand, jaw set just enough for you to notice because unfortunately, after years of knowing someone, you learned the small things. Interesting. Very interesting. You tilted your head slightly. He wasn’t embarrassed.

If anything, he looked… annoyed. Or thoughtful. Like the memory had landed somewhere deeper than expected. That was new. Usually, Heeseung met chaos with amusement. He was good at pretending nothing mattered. But now, under the firelight, with everyone laughing around him and the ocean dark behind you, he looked still. You watched him for a second too long. Then he glanced up. Caught you.

And just like that, the moment snapped. His expression shifted back into something easier. Familiar. Dangerous. He smirked. You rolled your eyes so hard it should’ve caused medical concern and took another drink. The conversation moved on, someone brought up an old yacht party disaster involving Sunghoon and a very expensive pair of loafers, Sunoo started a dramatic retelling of his brief and toxic relationship with a bartender from last summer, Eunchae laughed so hard she nearly fell backward into the sand.

The night folded around you, warm and nostalgic and too easy. This was the trap of summer. It made everything feel survivable. Even him. By the time the fire burned lower and people started drifting home, the moon sat high over the water and the beach had gone quiet again. You walked back alone, sandals in one hand, the other curled around your phone.

The sand was cool now under your feet. Waves whispered against the shore. Somewhere behind you, someone was still laughing. Your dress smelled like smoke. Your hair smelled like salt. And despite yourself, your mind kept circling back to one thing. That silence. The balcony. The firelight. The way Heeseung had gone quiet.

Interesting. You were still thinking about it when your phone buzzed in your hand. A text. You stopped walking. Looked down. Of course.

Heeseung

A single message.

Heeseung: still thinking about that balcony, or are you finally admitting i almost won?

You stared at the screen. There it was. The beginning of every bad idea. You should ignore it. You absolutely should. Instead, standing barefoot under the moonlight with the ocean at your back and your better judgment somewhere drowning offshore, you smiled. And typed back.

You: won what? you almost passed out from cheap champagne. history remembers the truth.

Three dots appeared almost instantly. Danger, apparently, texted first. 

The following week was suspicious. Not in any dramatic, life-altering way. No scandals. No yacht crashes. No accidental engagements announced over brunch. Just… suspicious. Because you were happy. Unreasonably, offensively happy. The kind of happy that made people around you uncomfortable, like spotting a shark in shallow water and realizing it was smiling.

It started subtly. You slept better. You stopped glaring at sunlight like it had personally betrayed you. You let your mother drag you to the farmer’s market on Wednesday morning and only complained twice, which she later described to your father in the same tone people used for religious miracles. By Thursday, you had laughed, genuinely laughed, at something Mrs. Lee said over iced coffee, and your mother had nearly dropped a peach. “Are you ill?” she asked immediately.

You looked up from your sunglasses. “Deeply, but unrelated.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No, seriously. You’ve been… cheerful.” The accusation hung between you. Cheerful. As if she’d caught you committing tax fraud. You leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping your coffee with all the dignity of a woman being unfairly persecuted.

“I’m always cheerful.”

She gave you a look so flat it could’ve ironed shirts. “Last week you called a seagull a personal enemy.”

“It knew what it did.”

Your father, reading the paper at the table, lowered it just enough to contribute, “You also threatened the blender.”

“It started first.” He nodded thoughtfully and returned to the business section. Traitor. The truth was harder to explain. There was no grand reason for it. No cinematic revelation. No dramatic confession under moonlight. Just summer. The beach. The sun. Late-night fires. Salt in your hair. And texts. That was the real problem. Because after the bonfire, Heeseung had texted again. And then again. Nothing serious. Nothing dangerous enough to name. Just stupid things.

A picture of the terrible coffee from the marina café with the caption: thought of you and your bad taste

A midnight text that only said: are you still pretending you didn’t almost kiss me first

A blurry photo of Sunoo asleep on a yacht chair: proof he can be quiet

And every single time, against your better judgment and your carefully cultivated reputation for emotional self-preservation, you replied. Sometimes immediately. Sometimes after twenty strategic minutes. Because dignity mattered. Still, the effect had been catastrophic. You were smiling at your phone now. In public. Like a woman with no survival instincts.

On Friday afternoon, your mother found you standing in the garden staring at the hydrangeas like you were in a coming-of-age film. You were holding one bloom gently between your fingers, sunlight warm on your shoulders, genuinely appreciating how ridiculous and beautiful summer looked here.

She stopped on the patio, and squinted, then called into the house, “Honey, come outside. I think our daughter has been replaced.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. If I were replaced, the imposter would be nicer.”

“Exactly my concern.” Unfortunately, your brief and scandalous flirtation with floral appreciation ended there. The hydrangea wilted two days later. Probably out of sheer terror. Even worse, people noticed. Everyone noticed. Sunoo, after seeing you smile at your phone during lunch, gasped like a Victorian widow and clutched his chest. “Oh my god. She’s in love.”

You nearly threw your drink at him. “I’m blocking you.”

“Denial. Classic.”

“It’s called boundaries.”

“It’s called a crush.” Across the table, Heeseung said absolutely nothing. Which, somehow, was worse, because lately, he’d been watching you. Not constantly, not obviously, just enough, across dinner tables, from the beach, leaning against his car while pretending not to. Curious. Like he’d noticed the shift and hadn’t decided what to do with it yet, like he was waiting.

On Sunday, you passed him outside while coming back from the beach, still warm from the sun, tote bag over your shoulder, skin glowing with the kind of happiness you were trying very hard not to examine too closely. And for reasons still unknown to science, you smiled at him. Not your usual sharp smile, not sarcastic, not weaponized. Bright, easy, and real.

It happened before you could stop it. For one glorious second, Lee Heeseung looked genuinely startled. Actually startled. He stopped mid-step, eyebrows lifting like his brain had temporarily lost signal. He didn’t smile back, just looked at you with that unreadable expression and one slightly raised brow, like he was trying to solve a puzzle and deeply suspicious of the answer.

You kept walking, because stopping would imply weakness. But halfway up your front steps, you could still feel it, that look, and somewhere behind you, you just knew he was still standing there, watching. Interesting. Very, very dangerous.

By Friday night, the entire town had collectively decided to be beautiful. You could feel it in the air. Summer in Jeju Island had a rhythm to it, and bonfire nights sat somewhere near the top of the food chain, just beneath yacht parties and just above making terrible decisions in someone else’s kitchen at two in the morning. The beach changed on nights like this.

During the day, it belonged to families and sunscreen and children building sandcastles with inherited wealth. But at night, especially on Fridays, it belonged to people your age. To music drifting over the dunes. To bottles hidden badly in tote bags. To girls in tiny dresses and boys pretending they weren’t trying too hard. Bonfire nights were for performance. And if there was one thing you respected, it was committing to a bit. You stood in your bedroom with your closet doors thrown open and the kind of focus usually reserved for military strategy.

Your bed was covered in options. Black satin. White linen. Something red Yoonchae once described as “emotionally irresponsible.” You were considering that one. Because tonight wasn’t just any bonfire. Tonight, everyone would be there. Which meant he would be there. And while you were a mature, evolved woman who absolutely did not make outfit decisions based on Lee Heeseung’s potential suffering, you were also not a liar. You pulled the red dress off its hanger. Short, silk, and worst of all, backless. The kind of dress that looked like bad decisions and expensive apologies. Perfect. 

You slipped it on slowly, watching yourself in the mirror as the fabric settled against your skin like it had been waiting for this exact moment. It clung where it should, skimmed where it mattered, and left just enough to imagination to make imagination work overtime. Dangerous. Excellent. You added gold jewelry because subtlety was for people with less interesting lives. Glossed lips. Soft waves in your hair. Perfume that smelled like jasmine and poor choices.

Then heels. Not practical for the beach. That was beside the point. When you walked downstairs, your father was on the couch pretending to read and your mother was rearranging flowers for sport. Both looked up. Your father blinked once. Then lowered his book. “Should I be concerned?”

“Always,” you said.

Your mother smiled like she was watching an expensive revenge plot unfold in real time. “Where exactly are you going dressed like that?”

You picked up your clutch. “To remind people to mind their business.”

Your father muttered something about raising a supervillain. Your mother kissed your cheek on the way out and whispered, “Be safe.” Which, translated from mother-language, meant: Don’t get arrested. Don’t set anything on fire. Try not to ruin anyone’s son permanently. No promises.

The walk to the beach felt cinematic. Warm night air against bare skin. The sound of waves pulling at the shore. Music already carrying from farther down the sand, bass soft and distant beneath the ocean. The moon hung low and bright over the water, silver against black waves. Firelight flickered somewhere ahead. And by the time you stepped over the dunes and onto the shore, every head turned. Good. Let them. There was power in being seen and knowing exactly what they were seeing. Sunoo, standing near the cooler with a drink in one hand and judgment in the other, spotted you first.

He froze dramatically. Then placed a hand over his heart. “Oh,” he said. “She came to kill.” “Someone has to keep standards alive.”

He looked you up and down with the solemn respect of a man appreciating art. “That dress should come with legal paperwork.”

“Excellent. I’m hoping for emotional damages.” Eunchae appeared next, immediately grabbing your arm. “No, seriously, turn around. I need to hate you properly.” You did, because generosity mattered. She groaned. “I’m ending our friendship.”

“Understandable.” Yunjin, from beside the fire, raised her drink toward you. “Whatever crime you commit tonight, I support you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” The bonfire itself was already in full swing. Someone had dragged out chairs no one was using. Music played low from a speaker half-buried in someone’s beach bag. Jay and Sunghoon were debating something useless near the waterline with the seriousness of men discussing world peace instead of tequila brands. People moved in loose circles, laughing, drinking, pretending not to stare at each other. Summer. Beautiful and a little stupid.

And then, like a sixth sense specifically designed to inconvenience you, you felt it. That look, across the fire, Heeseung. He stood with Jay near the cooler, beer in hand, black shirt rolled at the sleeves, looking like he’d walked straight out of an ad for poor decisions. The firelight caught against the sharp line of his jaw, the glint of his watch, the expression on his face, which, for one deeply satisfying second, was surprise. Real surprise.

His eyes landed on you and stayed there. Paused. Moved once, slow and deliberate, like he was trying very hard not to react and failing in private. He noticed, immediately, of course he did. You smiled, not at him, but in his direction, which was somehow worse, and turned your attention elsewhere. Because if you were going to weaponize beauty tonight, subtlety would only dilute the effect.

His name was Minjae, which you remembered mostly because he’d tried to kiss Yunjin two summers ago and gotten publicly roasted for it. Harmless. Pretty enough. From one of the families near the marina. More importantly, available. He approached with exactly the kind of confidence men borrowed from expensive watches. “Well,” he said, smiling as he stepped closer, “you’re either trying to ruin someone’s life tonight or start a small war.”

You took the drink he offered. “Can’t it be both?” He laughed, leaning in just enough to suggest intention. And from the corner of your eye, there, heeseung watching, not openly, but enough. His posture had changed, slightly stiffer, beer untouched, expression neutral in the way men got when they were trying very hard not to look like they wanted to commit a felony. Interesting. Very interesting.

You smiled brighter. Poor Minjae. A perfectly nice civilian about to become collateral damage. “You clean up well,” he said. “I usually do.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Have you?” The conversation was easy, almost too easy. Light touches. Leaning closer. The practiced dance of summer flirting where no one meant too much and everyone pretended otherwise, and the entire time, you could feel it.

That awareness from across the fire. Sharp, and steady. Heeseung. You laughed a little louder than necessary. Touched Minjae’s arm. Tilted your head just enough. Purely for scientific purposes. Across the beach, Sunoo noticed first, because gossip was basically his cardio.

He looked from you to Heeseung and nearly ascended. “Oh,” he whispered to no one and everyone. “Oh, this is delicious.”

Jay followed his line of sight and physically winced. “Someone should probably stop this.”

Sunghoon, wise as ever, took a sip of his drink and said, “No.” Correct. Absolutely no one should stop this. Because now Heeseung was walking over. Slowly. Calmly. Which was infinitely more dangerous than if he’d looked angry. He moved like someone with a purpose. Like the ocean itself had personally requested violence. Minjae was still talking. Something about boats. You had no idea. Because Heeseung stopped beside you, close enough for the smell of expensive cologne and sea air to ruin your peace.

And said, casually, too casually, “Didn’t know you liked boring men.” Silence. Beautiful. Terrible. Immediate. Minjae blinked. You took a slow sip of your drink. Turned your head. Looked directly at him. And smiled.

Oh. This was going to be fun. Minjae, to his credit, had enough self-preservation instincts to realize when he’d accidentally wandered into someone else’s war. He looked between you and Heeseung, your too-sweet smile, Heeseung’s dangerously calm expression, and gave the kind of laugh people used when backing away from wild animals.

“Well,” he said, lifting his drink slightly, “I’m suddenly remembering I promised Sunoo I’d help him with… something.” Sunoo, across the fire, yelled, “I did not—” Too late. Minjae was already retreating into the night, leaving you alone with the problem. Which was standing far too close and looking far too pleased with himself. You turned slowly, crossing your arms.

“Did you just scare off my entertainment?”

Heeseung took a sip of his beer like he hadn’t committed a social crime. “If your entertainment starts explaining boat engines, I’m doing you a favor.”

“I was having a lovely time.”

“No, you were being annoying on purpose.” You placed a hand dramatically over your heart. “And here I thought I was subtle.”

He looked at you then, really looked, and the amusement thinned just enough to let something sharper through. “That’s the problem.” The fire crackled behind you. Somewhere farther down the beach, someone shouted over the music. Laughter carried on the wind.

But here, in the small space between you and him, everything had gone quieter. You tilted your head. “What exactly is the problem, Lee?” His jaw shifted. That tiny thing he did when he was trying not to say too much. Dangerous.

“You always do this.” You blinked once, deliberately. “Do what?” He stepped closer. Not enough for touching. Enough for trouble. “Act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” There it was. Not a joke. Not banter. Something real enough to make your pulse trip over itself. You should’ve backed up. You didn’t. Instead, you smiled, that slow, sharp smile you used when you were either about to win or about to ruin your own life.

“And what exactly am I doing?” He let out one quiet laugh, humorless. “Seriously?”

“Very.” His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth. Mistake. Terrible, catastrophic mistake. Because suddenly the entire night rearranged itself around that single glance. The firelight. The ocean. The red dress. His voice lower now, rougher around the edges.

“You flirt with people you don’t care about,” he said. “You get that look on your face when you’re trying to prove something. And then you wait to see who notices.” Your heartbeat was officially embarrassing. You folded your arms tighter, mostly so he wouldn’t notice.

“And you noticed.” He didn’t answer immediately. Which was answer enough. The moonlight silvered the edges of everything, the shoreline, the glass in his hand, the expression he was trying and failing to keep neutral. You swallowed. Slowly. “Sounds like a you problem.” His mouth twitched.

“Probably.” There it was again, that unbearable thing between you, stretched tight as wire. Years of almosts. Arguments that had never really been about arguments. Every summer version of yourselves layered on top of each other until neither of you knew where the joke ended and the truth began. You could still remember the balcony. Nineteen. Champagne. His hand on the railing beside yours. That second where everything had almost changed.

You wondered if he was thinking about it too. You suspected he was. Because now he was closer. And now you could smell the ocean on his skin, something expensive underneath it, and the very specific danger of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. You should absolutely leave. Instead, because self-destruction was apparently hereditary, you said softly, “You’re jealous.”

His expression sharpened. “Don’t flatter yourself.” “Too late.” “You think this is funny.”

“No,” you said. “I think you’re jealous, and I think you hate that I noticed.” He stepped in once more. Enough that your breath caught. Enough that the entire world narrowed. “Careful.”

“Or what?” Your voice came out quieter than intended. He noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze dropped again, slower this time, and when he spoke, it was barely above the sound of the waves. “Or you’ll say something you can’t take back.” Silence. The dangerous kind. You could hear your own breathing. The ocean behind him. Someone laughing far away, in another universe where people made good choices. Here, there was only this. His hand brushing your bare arm as he shifted. Your pulse in your throat. The ridiculous certainty that if either of you moved half an inch, the entire summer would split open.

You thought, this is it. Finally. At last. And then, “OH MY GOD, THERE YOU TWO ARE.” Eunchae. Of course. She appeared like divine punishment in platform sandals, carrying two drinks and absolutely no sense of timing. You jumped back so fast it should’ve counted as cardio. Heeseung looked like he might walk directly into the ocean. Eunchae stopped. Looked between you. The space. The tension. The crime scene. And grinned like the devil herself.

“Wow,” she said. “I almost feel bad interrupting whatever deeply repressed thing was happening here.” “Don’t,” you said immediately.

“Never,” Heeseung muttered at the exact same time. She handed you a drink with the smugness of a woman collecting evidence. “Cute. Anyway, Sunoo is taking bets on whether you two make out before August.”

You took the drink because murder was illegal. “Tell Sunoo I hope he loses money.”

“Oh, he definitely won’t.” She skipped away before either of you could respond, leaving behind chaos and the lingering smell of coconut perfume. Silence again. But ruined now. Worse, somehow. Because now both of you knew. Not the joke. Not the performance. The actual thing underneath it. And once you knew that, pretending got harder. You stared out at the water. He stared at the fire. Neither of you said anything. Eventually, as the night thinned and people started leaving in groups of laughter and half-finished conversations, it became painfully obvious that your usual ride home had abandoned you in favor of some post-party food run.

Which left, “Get in.” You stood beside Heeseung’s car, clutching your shoes in one hand and your pride in the other. “No.” He unlocked the passenger door without looking at you. “Yes.” “I’d rather walk.”

“It’s two miles.”

“I’m resilient.”

“You’re dramatic.”

You narrowed your eyes. He opened the door wider. “Get in.” And because the universe hated you, you did. The drive home was quiet. Not awkward. Worse. The kind of silence that knew too much. The windows were down, warm night air rushing through the car, carrying salt and smoke and the last traces of summer bonfire on your skin. Your heels sat abandoned on the floor. Your red dress still smelled like fire.

He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the console, expression unreadable in the passing streetlights. You looked out the window because looking at him felt like volunteering for emotional damage. Neither of you mentioned the almost-kiss. Neither of you mentioned anything. When he pulled into your driveway, the house was dark, your parents already asleep.

For one second, neither of you moved. Then you reached for the door. At the same time, his hand shifted. Your fingers brushed. Just barely. Warm. Accidental. Or maybe not. You froze. So did he. And for one stupid, suspended second, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath again. Then you pulled your hand back. Too fast. “Goodnight,” you said. Too quiet. He nodded once.

“Night.” You got out. Walked to the front door. Did not look back. But you could feel him there, still sitting in the driveway, engine running, watching until you got inside. And later, long after the house had gone still and the ocean whispered somewhere beyond your window, you lay awake staring at the ceiling. Wide awake. Heart traitorous. Mind worse. Because now you knew. And so did he. Nobody slept.

The next few days were a masterclass in mutual psychological damage. Not dramatic damage. Worse. Polite damage. The kind where nothing happened and somehow everything did. You didn’t fight. That was the first sign something had gone horribly wrong. No sarcastic remarks over morning coffee. No pointed comments when passing each other near the beach path. No weaponized flirting in front of your parents. No smug little “morning, neighbor” from across the driveway.

Nothing. Just awkward, terrible silence. You’d see him and immediately become fascinated by literally anything else. The mailbox. A cloud. The concept of sand. Anything but eye contact. Because eye contact implied remembering. And remembering implied the bonfire. The almost-kiss. The car ride. His hand brushing yours like the universe personally wanted you to suffer. No, thank you. You were suddenly the busiest woman alive. If he was at the beach, you were tragically needed elsewhere.

If he was by the marina, you had urgent business in the opposite direction. If he was leaning against his stupid car looking like a rich-boy problem in linen, you turned around. Dignity first. Unfortunately, subtlety had never survived around your families. By Wednesday morning, Mrs. Lee noticed. Of course she did. That woman could detect emotional tension like a bloodhound. You were outside watering your mother’s increasingly judgmental hydrangeas, a task you’d been assigned after the tragic and suspicious death of the previous one, when it happened.

The sun was already warm, the kind of bright coastal morning that made everything look too innocent. Birds chirping. Ocean breeze drifting through the hedges. A peaceful suburban scene. Lies. Across the white fence separating your houses, Mrs. Lee stood on her patio with a basket of laundry and the sharp, narrowed gaze of a woman putting pieces together. You should’ve run. Instead, you smiled weakly.

Mistake. Because at that exact moment, Heeseung stepped outside. Coffee in one hand. Sunglasses. Half-awake and offensively attractive. He looked toward you automatically. You looked anywhere else so fast it nearly caused whiplash. Silence. A beat. Then, Mrs. Lee gasped.

Not a small gasp. A full-body gasp. The kind that meant family history was about to be rewritten. She turned toward her son so fast the laundry basket nearly died for it. “Lee Heeseung!” He stopped mid-sip. Already tired. “Mom, what.”

Her hand flew dramatically toward your side of the fence like she was presenting evidence in court. “What did you do to Y/N?” From your yard, you froze. The watering can continued pouring directly onto your foot. Fantastic. Heeseung blinked. “Mom, what do you mean?” “She isn’t looking you in the eyes!”

Across two properties and approximately three decades of neighborhood gossip, your soul left your body. “Mrs. Lee—” you tried weakly. She was unstoppable. “Do not Mrs. Lee me. I raised you both. I know things.”

Heeseung rubbed a hand down his face. “Mom—” Her eyes widened. Her voice rose. “Did you finally have sex?” Silence. Birds stopped singing. The ocean itself paused. From somewhere inside your house, your father definitely dropped something. And then, Mrs. Lee, with the volume of a woman chosen by God for this exact purpose: “DON’T TELL ME SHE CAN’T LOOK AT YOU BECAUSE SHE KNOWS WHAT YOUR DICK LOOKS LIKE—”

“MOM!”

“Mrs. Lee!” You. Heeseung. Probably the entire coastline. At that point, survival instincts kicked in. You dropped the watering can. Actually dropped it. Water everywhere. Dignity nowhere. And then you ran. Not walked. Not gracefully retreated. Ran. Straight through the back door, up the kitchen steps, past your mother, who was holding coffee and looked far too entertained, and directly into the sanctuary of your bedroom like a Victorian woman fleeing scandal.

Your heart was trying to leave your chest. Your cheeks were on fire. You pressed both hands to your face and groaned into the universe. This was it. This was how you died. Not dramatically. Not beautifully. Killed by secondhand embarrassment and one very loud mother. Worse, far, far worse, you were blushing. Blushing. For a man currently being publicly lectured about sex on a Wednesday morning.

Humiliating. Absolutely unforgivable. Your mother knocked once on your door and entered anyway, because privacy remained a myth. She took one look at you face-down on the bed and smiled like a woman watching reality television. “Well,” she said, setting her coffee down, “that clears some things up.”

“Please leave me here to decompose.”

“I’d love to, but dinner is in two hours.”

Cruelty. Pure cruelty. Later that afternoon, once the heat of your humiliation had cooled from catastrophic to survivable, you made the dangerous mistake of leaving the house. Just a quick walk, you told yourself. Fresh air. Emotional recovery. Absolutely no Heeseung. The universe laughed. Because halfway down the lane near the beach path, there he was. Of course. Standing beneath the shade of the jacaranda trees like some handsome curse. You stopped. He stopped.

For one horrible second, neither of you moved. Then you made the deeply strategic decision to simply walk faster. Ignore. Evade. Survive. Unfortunately, Lee Heeseung had longer legs and audacity. “Y/N.” His voice behind you made your spine straighten. You kept walking. Badly. “Y/N.” Closer now. You stopped because running twice in one day felt like poor character development. Slowly, with all the grace of someone approaching public execution, you turned.

He stood there looking… weirdly nervous. Interesting. Suspicious. Your cheeks immediately remembered this morning and attempted betrayal. No. Absolutely not. You stared at a point somewhere near his left shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you blurted. Fast. Too fast. Like the words had tripped over each other trying to escape.

“For the thing. Earlier. Your mom. I mean—not your mom, obviously she’s lovely, but the yelling and the—” you gestured vaguely at existence “—everything. Sorry.” Excellent. Elegant. A true masterclass in social recovery. You were already preparing to evaporate when he stepped forward and stopped you. Not dramatically. Just enough. A hand lightly catching your wrist. Warm. Immediate regret. “Y/N.” You looked up instinctively. And there it was. Eye contact. Actual, dangerous eye contact. For one second, all the confidence he usually wore like expensive cologne just… vanished. Gone. He blinked once. Twice. And then— “I—uh.”

You stared. Heeseung Lee. Golden boy. Professional menace. Smooth-talking devil of Jeju Island. Stuttering. You would treasure this forever. He cleared his throat. “Sunoo wanted me to give you this.” He shoved a folded paper into your hand like it had personally offended him. “An invite. For Friday. He’s doing some thing—well, not some thing, it’s a party, obviously, and he said if I forgot, he’d kill me, so—” He kept talking. Rambling, actually.

Words continuing in increasingly unnecessary detail while you stood there holding the paper, blinking. Because now he was nervous. Actually nervous. And somehow that was worse. Far worse. You grabbed the invitation. Nodded once. And, choosing self-preservation above all else, turned and walked away at a speed just barely pretending not to be fleeing. Fast. Very fast.

Behind you, his voice stopped. Silence. Then, a soft scoff. Followed by a quiet chuckle, carried lightly by the ocean breeze. You didn’t turn around. Absolutely not. But you could feel it anyway. Him standing there. Watching you speed-walk your dignity down the lane. And annoyingly, your heart was still beating too fast. Friday night arrived heavy with heat.

The kind of heat that sat low against your skin and made the entire town feel slower, softer, dangerous in ways daylight never was. By nine, the sky over Jeju Island had gone ink-dark, the moon hanging pale over the water, and the beach had transformed again into its usual summer ritual, music spilling over the dunes, bonfires burning low and golden, laughter rising and dissolving into the sound of the tide. Sunoo’s parties were never really parties. They were events. Carefully chaotic, full of beautiful people pretending they were not looking at one another too closely. Someone always brought expensive liquor. Someone always made a bad decision. Someone always kissed the wrong person under the excuse of summer.

Tonight, the air felt like it had already decided who that would be. You had tried not to think about it while getting ready. Failed, of course. Because the truth was, the last few days had left something unsettled between you and Heeseung. No more easy arguments. No more familiar rhythm to hide behind. Just glances held too long and silences that felt louder than fights ever had. And the memory of his hand on your wrist.

The way he had looked at you. The way he had lost words. It had followed you all week. So when you dressed tonight, it wasn’t for attention. It was armor. A black dress this time, simpler than the red one, but worse somehow. Thin straps, soft fabric, bare skin at your back, the kind of dress that didn’t ask to be noticed because it already knew it would be. Your hair loose, your mouth glossed, gold at your throat catching the light. You looked like someone about to make a mistake.

And maybe that was the point. By the time you arrived, the party had already spilled toward the shoreline. Music low, drinks in warm hands, familiar faces blurred by firelight and moonlight and too much history. You let yourself be folded into it. Yoonchae pressed a drink into your hand. Yunjin laughed at something dramatic Sunoo was saying near the fire. Jay stood half in the water, arguing with Sunghoon over something neither of them would remember tomorrow. Everything looked normal.

It almost felt normal. Until you saw him. Heeseung stood near the edge of the beach, farther from the fire than everyone else, a drink untouched in his hand, dark shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled carelessly to his forearms. He wasn’t laughing. Wasn’t talking much. Just watching. And when his eyes found yours, the rest of the beach seemed to pull backward.

There it was again. That terrible, quiet thing. You looked away first. Coward. The night stretched. Another drink. Then another. Enough to soften the edges but not enough to blur them. Enough to make your body warm and your thoughts reckless. Enough to make him impossible to ignore. You felt him before he reached you. That shift in the air. That awareness. You turned, and there he was. Close. Too close.

“Having fun?” he asked, voice low enough that no one else could hear. You tilted your glass against your lips. “Immensely. I’ve only considered fleeing twice.” His mouth almost smiled. “Only twice?” “I’m pacing myself.” Silence settled between you, but not the easy kind. The kind that waited. The kind that knew.

The ocean stretched black behind him, waves breaking silver under moonlight. Firelight moved over his face in pieces, catching the sharpness of him, the tension in his jaw. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said. Not accusing. Worse. Certain. You looked at him then.

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you’re just easier to avoid lately.”

His expression shifted. Something quieter. Sharper. “That morning embarrassed you.” Mrs. Lee’s voice echoed in your memory and heat climbed your neck instantly. You looked away toward the water. “Your mother nearly announced your sex life to the entire coastline.”

“She likes you.”

“I nearly died.”

A brief silence. Then, softer, “You ran.” You let out a dry laugh. “Wouldn’t you?”

“No.”

“No,” you agreed. “You’d stand there and make it worse.”

“That does sound like me.” For a second, it almost eased. Almost. Then he said, quieter this time, “That’s not why you’ve been avoiding me.” The wind moved between you, carrying salt and the faint smoke of the fire. No. It wasn’t. Because the truth sat uglier than that. You had been avoiding him because once something shifted, you couldn’t shift it back. Because pretending was harder now. Because every look felt like standing too close to the edge of something.

Because if you let yourself think too hard about him, you would ruin everything. And maybe you already had. You set your drink down in the sand. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Do this.” His gaze didn’t move from yours. “Do what?” You laughed once, breathless and frustrated. “This. This thing where you look at me like I’m supposed to know what you’re thinking.”

He stepped closer. Moonlight and firelight and trouble. “Maybe you do.” Your pulse stumbled. “You’re impossible.” His voice dropped. “So are you.”

And there it was. Years of it. Every argument. Every summer. Every almost. The balcony. The beach. The car ride. Every second spent pretending there wasn’t something here because admitting it would mean letting it matter. You could hear your own breathing. His too. Close enough now that it blurred. You should walk away.

You should say something cruel, something sharp enough to put distance back between you. Instead, you stayed. Because the truth was simpler than pride. You wanted him. Maybe you always had. And he looked at you like he knew it. Like he had been waiting for you to stop lying. His hand brushed your bare arm, slow enough to feel like a question. You should have answered no. Instead, your voice came out quieter than you intended. “Tell me to stop.” He didn’t. For one suspended second, neither of you moved.

Then he kissed you. It felt like anger, like relief, like something starved, messy and immediate and years too late. Your hands found him without permission, his shirt, the line of his jaw, the back of his neck. His mouth was warm and rough against yours, like he’d thought about this too many times and was done pretending otherwise. There was nothing careful about it. No softness. No hesitation.

Just all the tension finally breaking open. He kissed you like he was trying to win something, and you kissed him like losing had never sounded better. The sound that left him was low, wrecked, against your mouth. His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left to pretend inside. When he finally pulled back, it was barely, forehead against yours, breath uneven, your lips still brushing when he spoke.

“Fuck.” The word sounded like confession. Then his mouth found yours again, harder this time, and the world narrowed to heat and salt and the way his hands made thinking impossible. He kissed down the corner of your mouth, breath warm against your skin, voice rough and half-lost. “Mm. Fuck, inside. Now.” You should have laughed. Should have reminded him he was arrogant, impossible, and absolutely not carrying you anywhere. Instead, when he lifted you, your legs finding his instinctively, your mouth was still on his.

Still kissing him as he walked. Across the sand. Up the path. Toward his house lit quiet against the night. The world beyond it disappeared. There was only this. His hands. Your heartbeat. The sound of the ocean somewhere behind you like witness. The back door. The hallway. Darkness and breath and mouths and hands and years of wanting collapsing all at once.

He barely got his bedroom door shut before you were against it, the sound of it closing sharp in the dark. Heeseung didn’t waste a second. His mouth was back on yours before the echo faded, hotter, deeper, more desperate than on the beach. One large hand cupped the back of your head, the other already sliding down the curve of your waist, gripping the soft fabric of your black dress like he’d waited years to tear it off.

You gasped into the kiss as your back hit the door again, the wood cool against your bare shoulders. His body pressed flush against yours, hard and burning, the evidence of how much he wanted you unmistakable against your stomach. “Fuck, this dress,” he muttered against your lips, voice gravel-rough. His fingers found the thin straps first, tugging them down your shoulders with impatient hands. The fabric whispered as it slid down your body, pooling at your waist before he pushed it lower, letting it fall completely to the floor in a dark heap around your ankles.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, bare except for the delicate black bra and panties, skin flushed, chest rising fast. His eyes darkened, jaw tight. “Beautiful,” he breathed, almost angry about it. “So fucking beautiful it pisses me off.”

Then his head dipped. His lips found the swell of your breast above the bra, hot and open-mouthed, tongue dragging over the lace. You arched into him with a shaky moan as he mouthed at your nipple through the thin fabric, sucking lightly, then harder, the wet heat of his mouth making your knees weak. His teeth grazed just enough to make you whimper.

Your hands trembled as you reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in the dark. The metallic clink sounded loud in the quiet room. You shoved his shirt up and off his shoulders, desperate to feel skin, and he helped you, ripping it the rest of the way off and tossing it somewhere behind him.

The moment his belt came undone, your hand slipped inside, palming him over his boxers. He groaned low against your chest, hips twitching forward into your touch. But Heeseung wasn’t letting you set the pace. His hand slid down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and pushing them aside without ceremony. Two long fingers dragged through your folds, finding you already slick and aching for him.

“Shit,” he hissed against your nipple, voice vibrating through your skin. “You’re soaked.” You couldn’t even answer properly, only a broken sound escaped as his fingers circled your clit once, twice, before sliding lower and pushing inside you without warning. The stretch was sudden, perfect, and your head fell back against the door with a soft thud.

Heeseung’s mouth switched to your other breast, sucking harder now, tongue flicking over the hardened peak while his fingers curled inside you, slow and deep, stroking that spot that made your thighs shake. His thumb pressed firm circles against your clit in time with every thrust of his fingers.

Your hand tightened around his cock, stroking him through the fabric as best you could while your other hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging in. “Heeseung—” His name came out wrecked, half-moan, half-plea. He lifted his head from your chest, lips shiny, eyes nearly black with want. His fingers didn’t stop moving inside you, steady and relentless.

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice low and rough. “My name. Like that.” You did, moaning it louder this time as he added a third finger, stretching you open, preparing you for what was coming next. His mouth crashed back onto yours, swallowing every sound you made while his fingers fucked you against the door, wet sounds mixing with your ragged breathing.

Your dress was long forgotten on the floor. His pants hung low on his hips. The only thing that mattered now was the burning friction between you, the years of tension finally snapping apart in the dark of his bedroom. And neither of you was nearly done yet. Heeseung’s fingers were still buried deep inside you when he suddenly pulled them out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You barely had time to protest before his hands gripped the back of your thighs.

In one smooth motion, he lifted you, wrapping your legs high around his waist. Your arms instinctively looped around his neck as he carried you away from the door. The movement pressed his body flush against yours, and the second your weight settled, his pants, already tugged low on his hips, slid further down.

His cock, hot and heavy, shoved straight against your soaked folds. Your panties had been dragged aside earlier and stayed that way. There was nothing between you now except bare, slick skin. The thick length of him slid right between your folds, the head nudging insistently against your entrance with every step he took. You gasped sharply at the sudden, intimate contact.

Heeseung groaned deep in his chest, the sound raw and broken. “Fuck—feel that?” he rasped, hips twitching involuntarily as he walked you across the room. Every movement made his cock drag slowly through your wetness, the head rubbing right over your swollen clit.

The friction was maddening. Skin to skin. Hot. Wet. Overwhelming. You moaned into his neck, legs tightening around him as another wave of arousal slicked between you. Heeseung’s grip on your thighs turned bruising, his breathing ragged against your ear. By the time he reached the bed, both of you were trembling. He laid you down carefully, never fully breaking contact. The moment your back hit the mattress, he followed, settling between your spread thighs. His pants were shoved just low enough. His shirt was long gone. And his cock, thick, flushed, and glistening with your arousal, rested heavy against your pussy.

Heeseung braced himself on one forearm, the other hand guiding his length. He rubbed the head slowly up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass. His eyes found yours in the dim light filtering through the window. Dark, hungry, and strangely vulnerable. You could feel him throbbing against you. Could see the tension in his jaw as he held himself back, waiting. You nodded, barely a breath. “Yes.”

That was all he needed. Heeseung didn’t hesitate. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he pushed inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one go. The stretch was intense, perfect, overwhelming. A broken moan tore from your throat as your walls clenched tight around his cock. Heeseung let out a low, guttural sound, forehead dropping to yours as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours.

“Shit— so tight,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You feel… fuck.”

For a few heartbeats, he stayed still, letting you adjust, letting himself feel every pulse and flutter around him. Then he started moving. Slow at first, long, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. Each thrust pushed a soft cry from your lips. Heeseung’s rhythm quickly grew harder, more desperate, the wet sound of skin meeting skin filling the dark room. His mouth found yours again in a messy kiss as he fucked you deeper, hips snapping forward with increasing force. One hand slid under your ass, tilting your hips up so he could hit even deeper, grinding against your clit with every thrust.

You were lost in it, lost in him. The way he filled you. The way he moaned your name against your mouth like a prayer and a curse at the same time. The way years of tension finally shattered between you with every brutal, perfect stroke. Heeseung’s pace turned punishing, relentless, like he was trying to make up for every summer you’d spent pretending this didn’t exist.

And you took every single thrust, legs wrapped tight around his waist, nails raking down his back as the pleasure built sharp and fast inside you. Heeseung’s thrusts grew erratic, deeper, harder, his hips slamming against yours with a desperation that bordered on violent. You were so close it hurt, every stroke pushing you right to the edge.

“Fuck— I’m gonna cum,” he groaned against your mouth, voice strained and raw. “Come with me. Now.” You could only nod frantically, nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure inside you finally snapped. Your orgasm crashed over you hard, walls clenching violently around his cock as you came with a broken cry of his name. The intensity made your vision blur, thighs shaking around his waist.

Heeseung followed right after, burying himself to the hilt with one final, deep thrust. A low, guttural moan tore from his throat as he came inside you, hips stuttering, pulsing hot and deep while he rode it out, filling you with every twitch of his cock. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. He collapsed on top of you, chest heaving, sweat-slick skin pressed against yours. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, breath hot and uneven against your throat. You could feel his heart hammering wildly against your chest.

Silence. No soft kisses. No gentle words. No confessions whispered in the dark. Just heavy breathing and the slow realization of what you’d just done. After what felt like forever, Heeseung finally pulled out of you with a quiet hiss. He rolled off to the side, staring up at the ceiling, one arm thrown over his forehead. You both lay there, naked and still catching your breath. Then, quietly, “This was a mistake.”

Your voice came out steadier than you expected. “Yeah,” he answered, just as flat. Liars. Neither of you believed it. Not even for a second. But neither of you said anything more.

Morning came like regret. Too bright. Too warm. Too aware. Sunlight spilled through the curtains in long golden strips, cruel in the way only summer mornings could be, soft and beautiful and entirely uninterested in your emotional devastation. Somewhere outside, the ocean moved lazily against the shore. A gull screamed like it had a personal vendetta. Your head hurt. Not from alcohol. Worse. Memory.

Every second of last night returned in fragments the moment you opened your eyes, his mouth on yours, your back against his door, the way he had said your name like it meant trouble, the heat of it, the impossibility of pretending it hadn’t happened. You stared at the ceiling for a full minute. Then another. Then sat up with the slow dread of a woman remembering she had, in fact, made every bad decision available to her.

Excellent. Fantastic. Character development. Heeseung’s room looked unfairly like him, clean without trying, expensive without showing off, sunlight falling over dark wood and linen sheets and the kind of quiet luxury that made you want to rob him on principle. He was standing by the window, already dressed. Of course he was. Dark T-shirt. Messy hair. Coffee in hand. Looking like the human embodiment of consequences. He turned when he heard you move. And for a second, neither of you said anything.

No teasing. No smugness. Just that strange stillness people had after crossing a line they couldn’t uncross. You pulled the sheet tighter around yourself for dignity. It did nothing. He leaned against the window frame, studying you with an unreadable expression. “Well,” he said finally, voice rough from sleep and something else, “this feels healthy.”

You let out one dry laugh. “Absolutely thriving.” His mouth twitched. Dangerous. Because if he smiled right now, if either of you made this softer than it was, the whole thing would collapse into something harder to survive. You got out of bed, collecting your clothes from the floor like evidence. “This was a mistake.” The words landed between you. Again. Too quick. Too sharp. You regretted them immediately. Something in his expression shifted, not hurt, exactly, but enough to make your chest tighten.

He set his coffee down. “Was it?” You pulled your dress on with more focus than necessary. “That depends. Are we pretending this was a one-time lapse in judgment, or are we being honest?” He watched you for a long moment. Then, quietly, “Pretending clearly hasn’t worked for us so far.”

No. It hadn’t. Not for years. You sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted by the weight of it. The almosts. The history. The fact that wanting him had somehow become the least surprising part of all this. Outside, the day kept moving. Waves. Sunlight. People living normal lives. Inside, it felt like standing at the edge of something. You looked at him.

“So what now?” He crossed his arms, considering. And because the universe had a sense of humor, the answer came with the terrifying logic of two people who were entirely too good at making bad ideas sound reasonable. “We don’t do relationships.”

You snorted. “Understatement of the century.” “You said it yourself. No settling down this summer. No complications.” “No emotional disasters.”

“Preferably.” Silence. Then, you said it first. “Friends with benefits.” The words hung there. Ridiculous. Obvious. Inevitable. Heeseung looked at you like he hated how much sense it made. “Very mature.”

“Extremely.”

“Probably a terrible idea.”

“The worst one we’ve had so far.”

Another silence. Then both of you, at the same time, “Okay.” You stared at each other. And somehow, that was the funniest part. Because of course this was how it happened. Not with romance. Not with confessions. With negotiations. You stood, stepping closer now, the air between you still carrying the remains of last night. “Fine,” you said. “But if we’re doing this, there are rules.”

His brow lifted. “Of course there are.”

“Obviously. I’m not running an emotional free-for-all.” He leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, watching you like he already knew this would be entertaining. “Go on, then.”

You started counting on your fingers. “No dates.” “Agreed.”

“No jealousy.” A pause. Small. Noticeable. Then: “Agreed.”

You narrowed your eyes but kept going. “No emotional attachment.” “That sounds healthy.” “It sounds necessary.” He nodded once. “Fine.”

“No sleepovers.” His expression shifted slightly. You ignored it. “No public affection. I’m not becoming beach gossip.”

“Sunoo will be devastated.” “He survives on disappointment.”

A ghost of a smile. You continued. “No calling unless it’s late.”

“That sounds suspiciously specific.”

“It sounds like boundaries.”

“And?”

You took a breath. The final one. The one that mattered. “This ends with summer.” That one stayed in the room longer. Because suddenly it wasn’t just about tonight or last night or whatever this was becoming. It was a deadline. An expiration date. A promise to keep it temporary. Necessary. Smart. A lie, probably. But necessary. Heeseung looked at you for a long moment before nodding once. “Ends with summer.”

You hated how that felt. Still, you extended your hand like a business deal, because if you were going to ruin your life, professionalism mattered. “Deal?” He looked down at your hand. Then back at you. Slowly, he took it. Warm. Steady. His fingers closed around yours and something about it felt far less casual than either of you intended. “Deal.”

Too intimate. Too dangerous. You pulled your hand back first. Because someone had to be responsible here, and apparently it was going to be you. You grabbed your bag from the chair and moved toward the door before common sense could return and save either of you. At the threshold, you paused. Didn’t turn around. “Just so we’re clear,” you said, hand on the door, “if this ruins my life, I’m blaming you.”

Behind you, his voice came low and familiar again. “If this ruins your life, it’ll be because you let it.” You smiled despite yourself. Didn’t let him see it. Then opened the door. And walked out into the sunlight like a woman with a plan. Very mature. Very stupid. Exactly the kind of thing summer was made for. It started quietly, almost politely. As if whatever existed between you and Heeseung had agreed to disguise itself as something manageable.

A bad decision with boundaries. A summer arrangement. A temporary indulgence. Nothing more. That was the lie you told yourself the first time he texted you after midnight and you slipped out of your house barefoot, cardigan thrown over bare shoulders, the path between your homes lit only by moonlight and terrible judgment.

That was the lie you told yourself when he opened the back door before you even knocked, like he had been waiting there, like he knew the exact second your resolve would break. That was the lie you told yourself when his hands found your waist before either of you said hello. This is fine. It was not fine. At first, it felt almost easy.

There was a thrill to it, sharp and bright and addictive in the way summer secrets always were. The private satisfaction of sitting through family dinners knowing exactly how his mouth had looked against your skin the night before. The way his knee brushed yours under the table and neither of you reacted, though both of you remembered. It lived in stolen things. In late-night visits when the whole neighborhood had gone quiet, and the only sound was the ocean somewhere beyond the trees and your own heartbeat betraying you on the walk next door.

In the pool house one humid Thursday afternoon, when everyone else had gone sailing and the house sat warm and empty under the sun. Chlorine in the air, sunlight breaking over the water in fractured gold, your bikini still damp against your skin while Heeseung stood too close and said your name like it meant trouble. His hand sliding underneath the strap to touch you then quietly adjusting it back into place as if he hadn’t branded your entire neck in marks.

In parties where you crossed crowded rooms without touching, where his hand at the small of your back lasted only a second but ruined the rest of your night. Where you’d disappear separately and meet somewhere quieter, on balconies, behind the marina, near the dunes where the music couldn’t quite reach and the summer air felt heavier.

Every moment carried that same dangerous illusion: that because no one knew, it somehow meant nothing. You learned each other in fragments. The sound of his laugh when it was real, not performed for a room full of people. The way he got quieter when he was tired. How he always reached for your wrist first, like stopping you there somehow felt more honest than pretending he wasn’t pulling you closer.

How you started recognizing the sound of his car before it even turned into the driveway. You hated that one. Because it meant anticipation. And anticipation implied care. Care was not part of the agreement. So you became very good at pretending. You rolled your eyes when Sunoo accused you of being suspiciously unavailable lately. You blamed “family obligations” when Eunchae asked why you kept vanishing halfway through parties.

You told your mother you were staying in because the heat was unbearable, and then spent the entire afternoon in Heeseung’s room with the windows open, listening to the sea and trying not to think too hard about the intimacy of daylight. That was the dangerous part. Not the sneaking around. Not the kissing. Not even the wanting. Daylight. Because night made everything easier to dismiss. Midnight had always been built for mistakes. But sunlight was honest. It stripped things down. Left no shadows to hide inside.

And lately, you were both finding reasons to stay. A cancelled beach day because it was “too hot.” Skipping a yacht party because neither of you were “in the mood.” Sunday brunch abandoned halfway through because one look across the table had made patience impossible. Your parents thought you were finally becoming mature. Choosing rest. Prioritizing peace. If only they knew. On Tuesday, your mother found you in the kitchen at noon, wearing one of Heeseung’s old shirts thrown hastily over your swimsuit because you had forgotten your own cover-up and panic had terrible fashion sense.

She looked at you. Looked at the shirt. Looked back at you. And simply said, “Interesting.” You nearly died on the spot. “Laundry accident,” you replied immediately.

She sipped her iced tea. “Of course.” You fled before she could smile. It was becoming ridiculous. The kind of ridiculous that should have frightened you more than it did. Because somewhere between the late-night texts and the locked doors and the way he said your name when no one else was around, the rules had started feeling less like boundaries and more like decorations.

No sleepovers, and yet you had woken up in his bed twice this week. No emotional attachment, and yet you knew when he was in a bad mood before he said a word. No jealousy, and yet when a girl from the marina laughed too long at something he said, your entire evening soured without permission. This is fine. It was not fine. And the worst part was how natural it all felt. Like maybe this had been waiting for years. Like every summer before this had only been rehearsal.

One evening, stretched beside him on the pool house couch while golden light slipped slowly across the floorboards, you listened to the distant sounds of your families having dinner on separate patios, laughter drifting across the hedges, glasses clinking, the whole world carrying on politely while the two of you existed here in the quiet center of your own disaster. His hand rested lazily over your waist. Your head against his shoulder. Too comfortable.

Far too comfortable. You should have left an hour ago. Instead, you stayed. Because leaving meant acknowledging it. Because staying meant pretending this was still simple. You traced absent patterns against his arm and stared at the ceiling fan turning slowly overhead. Summer had always felt like this, beautiful enough to make bad ideas look romantic. Temporary enough to make them feel safe. You told yourself that was all this was.

A season. A secret. Something that would end when the weather changed. But even then, with the evening light soft around you and his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, some quieter part of you already knew the truth. This was never going to end cleanly. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came when you felt his hand sliding between your legs.  Later, neither of you said much.

The room was quiet in that intimate, ruined way it only became after too much honesty, sheets tangled at your legs, the windows cracked open to let in the salt-heavy night air, the ceiling fan turning lazily overhead like time had slowed just for this. Outside, summer kept moving. Waves somewhere beyond the trees. A car passing faintly down the road. Someone laughing in the distance, far enough away to belong to another world entirely.

Here, everything felt still. You lay on your back staring at the ceiling, your body heavy with exhaustion, skin still warm, his sheets twisted around your legs like evidence. Your hair was a mess. Your thoughts were worse. This had become dangerous. Not because of the sex. That part had been inevitable the second either of you admitted wanting it. No, the dangerous part was afterward. This. The silence that didn’t feel awkward. The way neither of you rushed to leave. The softness that slipped in when no one was paying attention.

You hated softness. Softness made people stupid. Beside you, Heeseung was quieter than usual, one arm thrown behind his head, the other resting across his stomach, his breathing finally even after the storm of the last hour. In the low light, he looked younger somehow. Less polished. Less like the version of him the rest of the world got.

Just him. That was somehow worse. You turned your head slightly, watching him. His eyes were closed. For once, he wasn’t performing anything. No teasing, no arrogance, no carefully placed smirk like armor. Just tired. Real. You wondered if he knew how dangerous that was too. As if sensing it, he spoke without opening his eyes. “If you’re staring because you’ve finally admitted I’m right about everything, I’d like it formally documented.”

Your mouth twitched despite yourself. “I was actually wondering how someone can be this annoying while unconscious.” He opened one eye. “Talent.”

“Curse.”

“Chemistry.” You rolled your eyes and turned back to the ceiling, but the smile betrayed you anyway. Silence returned. Softer this time. The kind that settled around people who had stopped trying so hard to fill it. You should leave. That thought came and went three separate times. You should absolutely get up, find your dress, reclaim your dignity, and walk back to your own house like a woman with standards and emotional boundaries.

Instead, you stayed exactly where you were. Because moving felt like too much effort. Because his room was warm and the ocean breeze through the window made everything drowsy. Because your body had given up on principles sometime around midnight. Because leaving would make this feel real. And staying let you pretend it was still just summer.

Your eyes grew heavier. The last thing you really registered was the lamp on his bedside table casting soft amber light across the room, and the faint smell of salt and clean linen and him. Then sleep came quietly. No dramatic realization. No final declaration. Just exhaustion winning where common sense had failed. Sometime later, minutes, maybe an hour, you felt movement.

Half-asleep, caught somewhere between dreaming and waking, you registered the mattress shifting, the lamp clicking off, the room falling deeper into darkness. Then warmth. A blanket pulled over you. Careful. Quiet. His hand brushing lightly against your shoulder for just a second longer than necessary.

You should have opened your eyes. Should have made a joke. Broken the moment before it could become one. You didn’t. You stayed still, breathing slow, pretending sleep because somehow that felt safer than acknowledging tenderness. In the dark, his voice came low and almost amused. “Rule number four,” he murmured.

No sleepovers. You felt him settle beside you. The mattress dipped. The silence deepened. And then, after a beat, “Terrible at following instructions.” You smiled into the pillow where he couldn’t see it. Outside, the ocean moved patiently against the shore, summer stretching endlessly into the night. And there, in Lee Heeseung’s bed, beneath his sheets and your own very bad decisions, you fell asleep. Oops. 

Something shifted after the sleepover. Not dramatically. No confessions, no declarations, no grand cinematic moment where either of you admitted the obvious and ruined everything properly. Worse. It changed quietly. In the spaces between things. And somehow, that made it far more dangerous. Because sex was easy to dismiss. Sex could be blamed on summer, on heat, on proximity, on years of unresolved tension finally finding somewhere to go. Sex was physical. Temporary. Conveniently stupid.

But softness, softness was treason. It started with coffee. You were standing in his kitchen one morning, barefoot, wearing one of his hoodies because your own clothes were somewhere upstairs and dignity had long since packed its bags. The house was still half-asleep, sunlight slipping pale and warm through the windows, the kind of slow summer morning that made everything feel deceptively gentle.

You were reaching for the coffee tin when he slid a mug across the counter toward you without looking. Iced. Too much milk. One sugar. Exactly right. You stared at it. Then at him. He was leaning against the opposite counter, scrolling through something on his phone with the dangerous calm of a man who had no idea he’d just committed emotional violence. “You remembered.”

He looked up. At the mug. At you. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You complain about bad coffee like it’s a moral issue.” You narrowed your eyes. “It is a moral issue.” He smiled into his own cup. That was the problem. Not remembering. How natural it felt. As if of course he knew. As if of course you noticed. As if this was normal. It wasn’t. Nothing about this was normal. And yet the days kept folding around it anyway.

He started bringing you food without asking. Not in some dramatic, romantic gesture way. Nothing obvious enough to name. Just showing up at the beach with the exact sandwich you liked because he “happened to be near the deli.” Leaving fries on the passenger seat when he picked you up because you’d skipped lunch and he could always tell when you did. A bottle of water handed to you silently after too much sun and too much pretending at some yacht party, his hand brushing yours for only a second before he walked away.

Little things. The kind people noticed. The kind people definitely noticed. By the second week of July, your friends had reached collective suspicion. It happened on a Wednesday afternoon at the beach club, where everyone had collapsed under umbrellas with overpriced drinks and varying levels of sunburn. Sunoo was the first to say it, because of course he was. He lowered his sunglasses dramatically and pointed between you and Heeseung like a detective solving a murder. “You two are weird.”

You didn’t even look up from your book. “That is the least shocking thing anyone has ever said.”

“No,” Yunjin cut in, leaning forward, “like weird weird. You’re not fighting.”

That got your attention. You looked up. Across from you, Heeseung was stretched lazily in a chair, sunglasses on, looking entirely too comfortable for someone under investigation.

Yoonchae nodded. “It’s unsettling. I miss the hostility. It was romantic.” Jay, who treated gossip like a legal proceeding, added, “The last thing you said to him that even resembled an insult was, and I quote—” He lifted a hand, reciting with criminal accuracy: ‘Don’t stay in the ocean too long, your wig might fall off.’ Silence. You blinked.

Sunghoon, traitor, added quietly, “That wasn’t even an insult. That was concern wrapped in a taunt.” You hated all of them.

“It was a warning,” you said.

“Because you care,” Sunoo sang.

“Because baldness is a public issue.” Across the table, Heeseung laughed. Actually laughed. Low and easy and far too pleased with himself. And you, idiot that you were, smiled back before you could stop it. The entire group gasped like Victorian women witnessing an exposed ankle. Eunchae clutched her chest. “Oh my god. They’re smiling at each other. We’ve lost them.”

You buried your face in your drink. This was unbearable. But the truth sat heavier than embarrassment. Because they were right. You weren’t fighting anymore. Not really. The sharpness had softened at the edges, and in its place had come something quieter. More dangerous.

You knew when he was lying. It was always in his shoulders first, too relaxed, too deliberate. Like if he made himself look calm enough, no one would notice. And he knew when you were upset before you said a word. Sometimes before you did. Like the night you came back from dinner with your parents, frustrated and restless and not wanting to explain why, only to find him sitting on the hood of his car outside your house.

He took one look at you and said, simply, “What happened?” No performance. No jokes. Just knowing. You sat beside him without answering, and he handed you fries in silence. That was worse than comfort. That was intimacy. And intimacy was not part of the agreement. Neither was the fact that you kept ending up in his clothes.

His hoodie mostly. Dark gray, too big, sleeves falling over your hands, smelling faintly like him and expensive detergent and whatever impossible thing made you feel too warm when you wore it home at sunrise. The first time, you’d told yourself it was practical. The second time, convenient. By the fifth, even you had stopped pretending. One evening, walking back from his house with that hoodie wrapped around you and the sun barely rising over the water, you caught your reflection in a neighbor’s window and had the deeply humiliating realization that you looked happy.

Not smug. Not victorious. Happy. You nearly turned around and walked directly into the sea. And then there was jealousy. The rule neither of you talked about because talking about it would make it real. No jealousy. Very simple. A lie, obviously. It surfaced one night at another party on Jay’s yacht. Some guy, tall, forgettable, rich in the boring way, spent too long talking to you by the bar. Leaning in too close. Laughing too easily.

You were polite. Mostly. But from across the room, you felt it before you saw it. Heeseung, watching. Still. Cold. Not dramatic, that would’ve been easier, just quiet. His expression shuttered in that way he did when he was trying very hard not to let something show, and suddenly the rest of the night tasted wrong. Later, when you found him outside near the dock, the air heavy with salt and dark water below, you said it before you could stop yourself.

“You’re being weird.” He leaned against the railing, gaze on the ocean. “I’m always weird.”

“Not like this.”

A long pause, the air thick with unspoken tension. Then, “Nothing’s wrong.” You laughed softly. There it was, the lie. You stepped closer, “You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

Finally, he looked at you. Moonlight catching the edges of him. That familiar unreadable expression. “No,” he said. “You just like thinking you can.” You folded your arms. “And you like pretending I’m wrong.”

His jaw shifted. A tell. You noticed. Of course you noticed. For a second, it almost cracked. Whatever this was. Whatever sat under all the rules and pretending and carefully chosen silence. But then he straightened. Looked away. And the wall went back up. “It means nothing,” he said. The words landed heavier than they should have. Because both of you knew he wasn’t talking about the guy. He was talking about all of it. This. You. Him.

The arrangement. The softness. The way neither of you were following your own rules anymore. Nothing. You stared at him for a long moment, the ocean loud in the silence between you. Then you nodded once. “Right.” A lie, both his and yours, both of you standing there in the warm dark of summer, pretending not to bleed where it hurt.

It means nothing, and somehow, that hurt worse than if he’d said everything, the silence between you lingered for a second too long. Warm night air moved around you, carrying the salt of the ocean and the distant hum of music from the party still going on behind the marina. The dock swayed faintly beneath your feet, water dark and endless below, moonlight breaking silver across the surface.

You stood there with his words still sitting heavy in your chest. It means nothing. Such a simple sentence. Such a stupid, transparent lie, but you hated that it hurt. More than that, you hated that he knew it hurt. That somewhere beneath all the arrogance and all the careful pretending, he knew exactly where to place the knife. And still, somehow, neither of you left. Because leaving would mean ending the conversation. Because staying meant there was still something unfinished here.

You folded your arms tighter, more for protection than attitude. “Right,” you said again, quieter this time. Heeseung looked at you like he wanted to say something else, something better, or worse. You could see it in the hesitation. In the way his mouth opened slightly, then closed again. In the tension sitting sharp in his shoulders, like even he was tired of performing indifference.

But he didn’t, of course he didn’t. Instead, after a long moment, he stepped closer. Not enough to be dramatic. Just enough to be familiar. And maybe that was the problem. The familiarity of it. The way your body recognized him before your mind had time to argue. His hand brushed your arm lightly. A thoughtless gesture. Comforting. Soft. Dangerous. You should have stepped back. Instead, you stayed still.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like his body had made the decision before his brain could stop it, he leaned down and pressed a quick, absent kiss to your forehead. Gentle. Careless. Tender. The kind of kiss that belonged to something entirely different than whatever this was supposed to be. And the second it happened, you both froze. Completely, the world stopped, the ocean, the music, your heartbeat, everything. Because that, that was not in the rules. Not even close. No public affection. No emotional attachment. No softness.

And forehead kisses? Forehead kisses were practically emotional terrorism. You stared at him. He stared at you. His hand was still lightly on your arm. Your lips parted, but no sound came out because honestly, what exactly was the appropriate response to being emotionally assassinated on a dock? Apparently, the answer was, a dramatic choking noise.

You both turned. Too late. Because standing ten feet away, carrying drinks and what looked like the absolute time of their lives, were your friends. All of them. Sunoo. Sunghoon. Jay. Eunchae. Yunjin. Yoonchae. Witnesses. To your death. For one beat, nobody moved. Then Yunjin made a sound like a Victorian woman seeing a man’s ankle and clutched her chest.

“No,” she whispered. Then louder, “No. No, I refuse.”

And with all the theatrical commitment of a woman born for performance, she dramatically dropped backward onto Eunchae. “I’ve fainted,” she announced to the night. “I’m dead. Tell my family I died right.” Eunchae, instead of helping, was already doubled over laughing. Actually laughing. Tears in her eyes. Full-body betrayal. Jay turned away entirely, hand over his mouth like he was trying and failing to remain dignified. Sunghoon stood there in complete silence, which for him was basically screaming.

Sunoo looked like he had ascended to another spiritual plane. And Yoonchae, traitor, elegant, terrifying, just slowly raised one eyebrow and said, “Well.” You wanted the dock to collapse. Immediately. Preferably with you on it. Beside you, Heeseung cleared his throat with the deeply haunted expression of a man realizing public humiliation was hereditary.

“It was nothing.” Silence. Then six people spoke at once. “Nothing?” Sunoo repeated, scandalized. “You kissed her forehead!” Eunchae shouted.

“That’s husband behavior,” Yunjin yelled from her fake death position. Jay pointed accusingly. “That is not casual. Casual men do not forehead kiss.”

Sunghoon, finally contributing, said simply, “That was intimate.” Which, somehow, was worse. You covered your face with both hands. This was how legends ended. Not with dignity. Not with grace. But with your friends conducting a public trial over a forehead kiss. Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, visibly regretting every life choice that had led him here. “It was automatic.”

“A Freudian slip,” Sunoo said immediately.

“A cry for help,” Yunjin added.

“A confession,” Eunchae gasped.

“A legal declaration,” Jay said.

“A marriage proposal,” Yoonchae finished.

You made a strangled noise. “Please stop talking.”

“No,” everyone replied. Across the chaos, you finally looked at Heeseung. Really looked. And annoyingly, he looked just as wrecked as you felt. His composure cracked at the edges. His usual confidence gone. His ears, very slightly, red. Interesting. Very interesting. For one brief second, despite the humiliation, despite the six idiots currently planning your wedding in real time, you almost smiled. Because he was embarrassed. Actually embarrassed. And somehow, that made the whole thing worse. Or better. Definitely worse.

He looked back at you. Something unspoken passing there. Something quiet and dangerous. Then, because the universe refused to let either of you have peace, Sunoo threw an arm dramatically into the air and declared to the ocean, “THEY’RE IN LOVE AND THEY’RE MAKING IT EVERYONE’S PROBLEM.” You and Heeseung, at the exact same time: “Shut up, Sunoo.” Which only made everyone laugh harder. 

—

The yacht looked like something built for people who had never been told no. White and gleaming and impossibly large, anchored just far enough from shore to feel exclusive, close enough for everyone to pretend it was casual. Music spilled across the water in low, expensive waves. Champagne sweated in silver buckets. Someone was laughing too loudly near the upper deck, and somewhere below, the ocean moved dark and patient against the hull, like it had seen this all before. Summer in Jeju Island had always been performative, but yacht parties were theater. Everyone arrived looking like they had something to prove. Girls in silk and gold, boys in linen and old money and inherited arrogance. Sunglasses even after sunset. Bare shoulders catching the last of the light. Beautiful people pretending they weren’t waiting for someone specific to notice them.

You hated how much you fit into it. Tonight, the dress was white. Soft and dangerous. The kind of dress that looked innocent until someone stood too close. Thin straps, bare back, fabric skimming your skin like seawater. Your hair loose from the salt air, gold at your throat, your mouth glossed and unhelpful. You looked like a mistake dressed as a good idea. Maybe that was the point. By the time you stepped onto the deck, the sun was already beginning to sink, everything dipped in amber, the ocean turning molten and gold around you. The air smelled like sunscreen, champagne, and money.

Sunoo spotted you first, of course. He stood near the bar, already three drinks deep into being everyone’s problem, and his eyes widened slowly as you approached. “Oh,” he said softly, like someone witnessing divine intervention. “Someone is about to ruin a life.” You took the champagne he handed you. “Only one? I’m aiming higher.”

He smiled, but it faded quickly when his gaze shifted past your shoulder. There. At the far end of the deck. Heeseung. Talking to Jay, drink in hand, sleeves rolled, dark shirt open at the throat in that infuriating way he never seemed aware of. The wind moved through his hair. The sunset caught against the sharp line of his profile. And then he looked up. Found you. Paused. There was always that moment. That small, suspended second where everything else fell away and it was just this, the recognition, the tension, the memory of every version of yourselves that had led here. His gaze moved slowly.

Not rushed. Not subtle. Like being touched without contact. And even from across the deck, you felt it. Something in your chest pulling too tight. It would have been easier if he looked away first. He didn’t. Neither did you. Until Yunjin bumped your shoulder lightly and saved you from your own poor decisions. “Don’t do that,” she murmured. You blinked. “Do what?” She took a sip of her drink, watching the sunset like she wasn’t dismantling your life. “Look at him like that. It makes the rest of us feel like unwilling participants.”

You laughed, but it sounded thinner than you meant it to. Because tonight, something already felt wrong. Not wrong. Fragile. Like standing barefoot on glass and pretending it was only sand. Maybe it was the accumulated weight of it. The weeks of pretending. The rules bent past recognition. The softness neither of you spoke about. The forehead kiss that still sat in your chest like a bruise. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe you were tired. Tired of pretending this was casual. Tired of pretending you didn’t care. Tired of him saying it meant nothing when it had started to feel like everything.

So tonight, you decided to be reckless. Not because you wanted someone else. Because you wanted him to react. Which, in hindsight, was the kind of decision people wrote warnings about. Minjae found you first. Again. Pretty enough. Easy enough. Familiar enough to be useful. He leaned against the rail beside you while the yacht drifted slow under the dying sun, talking about some party in Seoul, some mutual friend, something forgettable. His hand brushed your arm when he laughed.

You let it. You smiled. You leaned closer. You let the dress do half the work and the silence do the rest. And all the while, you could feel it. Heeseung. Across the deck. Watching. It wasn’t dramatic. He wasn’t storming across the yacht like some jealous cliché. Worse. He was quiet. Still. The kind of stillness that meant all the dangerous things were happening underneath. You knew him well enough now to recognize it.

The way his shoulders went too rigid. The way his mouth flattened when he was holding something back. The way he stopped pretending to enjoy the party. You kept flirting. Because cruelty, apparently, was a love language. By the time the sky had gone violet and the city lights glittered faintly across the water, the tension had become its own living thing. Heavy.

Everyone noticed. Sunoo kept looking between you and Heeseung like he was watching a live sports event. Eunchae physically winced every time Minjae touched your arm. Jay had the expression of a man reviewing poor investment choices. And Heeseung, he stopped speaking entirely. You should have stopped. You didn’t. Because part of you wanted him angry. Wanted proof. Wanted something undeniable.

You found it when you excused yourself to the lower deck for air. The music faded there, softer beneath the sound of the water. The yacht rocked gently beneath your feet. Moonlight stretched silver over the sea, and the world felt quieter, suspended between one decision and the next. You barely had time to breathe before he was there.

“Seriously?” His voice behind you was low. Controlled. Too controlled. You turned slowly. He stood in the narrow corridor of moonlight and shadow, jaw tight, eyes dark enough to make the night feel thinner around you. There it was. Finally. You leaned back against the railing, crossing your arms like your pulse wasn’t trying to leave your body. “Are we opening with accusations? Very romantic.” His laugh was short. Humorless. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re late. I thought jealousy would get you here faster.” That landed. You saw it. The flicker in his expression. The anger sharpened by something much worse. He stepped closer. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” you said quietly. “I think you don’t get to care.” The ocean moved below you. Dark and endless. He stopped. For one second, the entire world seemed to hold its breath. “And why not?” The question came softer than you expected. Not angry, not sharp, honest, and that was worse, because there was an answer. A real one. Because caring meant naming this. Because naming this meant breaking it. Because if he said it first, if either of you said it first, there would be no way back to pretending.

You looked at him and saw all of it at once, the boy you had spent every summer fighting, the man standing in front of you now, the terrible inevitability of wanting someone you were never supposed to want this much. Your throat felt tight. “Because,” you said, and even your own voice sounded unfamiliar, “you were the one who said it meant nothing.” Something in him shifted. Like regret. Like anger turned inward. He moved closer again, and this time you didn’t step back. There was nowhere to go.

Moonlight on the water. Champagne still bitter on your tongue. His hand braced against the railing beside you, trapping you there without touching. His voice dropped, rough around the edges. “And you believed me?” Your heart stuttered. Because no. No, you hadn’t. That had been the problem. You had heard the lie and let him keep it because the truth was too dangerous.

You looked up at him, and the space between you felt like standing in the ocean during a storm, like drowning and floating and drowning and floating, never knowing which one would win. “Tell me I’m wrong,” you whispered.

He stared at you like he was trying to decide whether honesty would ruin him. Maybe it would. Maybe it already had. His hand lifted, slow enough to stop, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that felt far too intimate for a yacht full of people and all the lies between you. His mouth was only inches from yours. And when he spoke, it was barely sound at all. “I think,” he said, “I stopped being careful with you a long time ago.”

Not quite a confession. Worse. Because it was true. And truth, between the two of you, had always been the most dangerous thing of all. He stood there for one suspended second after saying it, like even he was startled by the sound of his own honesty. The yacht rocked gently beneath you, the ocean below black and endless, moonlight breaking itself into silver shards across the water. Somewhere above, the music still played, muffled now, distant, belonging to another life entirely. Laughter drifted from the upper deck like something from far away, from people who had not just stepped to the edge of something irreversible.

You could still feel the words between you. I stopped being careful with you a long time ago. It settled into your chest like saltwater, slow, stinging, impossible to separate from your own blood. For weeks, maybe years, the two of you had been circling this. Pretending desire was just annoyance sharpened into habit. Pretending every almost was accidental. Pretending the way he looked at you meant less than it did. And now here it was. Not clean. Not graceful. Just true. You should have said something. Something intelligent. Something devastating. Something that would let you keep whatever remained of your pride. Instead, your body betrayed you first.

Your hand found the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like instinct, like gravity. You didn’t even realize you’d done it until he looked down at your hand and something dark and quiet moved across his face. His restraint snapped so softly you almost missed it. Then he took your wrist.  And before you could think, before either of you could retreat back into irony and self-preservation, he pulled you with him. Up the narrow staircase. Past the low spill of music and careless laughter. Through the blur of warm bodies and champagne and summer pretending to be harmless.

You barely registered the startled glance Sunoo gave you as Heeseung walked past him without a word, your hand still in his like a confession neither of you were ready to speak aloud. The hallway inside the yacht was cooler, quieter. White walls. Dim lights. The hum of the engine beneath your feet. Somewhere, a door shut. Somewhere else, the sea kept breathing against the hull.

He kept walking. You followed because there was no version of this where you didn’t. Because at some point, resisting him had become another kind of surrender. At the end of the corridor, he stopped. A private deck. Smaller. Hidden from the party. Open to the night. Only the ocean. Only the moon. Only the two of you and everything you were pretending not to destroy.

The door shut behind you with a soft click. Silence. He turned. For a moment, neither of you moved. The wind came off the water cool against your overheated skin, lifting your hair, carrying salt into the space between you. You could hear your own breathing. His too. He looked at you like a man standing too close to fire and knowing he was about to step in anyway.

And suddenly, it felt like standing at the edge of land. Like the last piece of solid ground beneath your feet. Like one more step would mean surrendering to something larger than either of you, something tidal and reckless and impossible to survive unchanged. You crossed that distance first. Or maybe he did. Later, you wouldn’t know. Only that one second there was space, and the next there was none. His mouth found yours like gravity.

Not gentle. Not hesitant. Like being pulled under. The kiss hit you like cold water and summer lightning, sharp, immediate, consuming. Every part of you lit at once, every defense dissolving so quickly it felt humiliating. His hands were at your waist, your neck, your jaw, like he couldn’t decide where to hold you, only that he needed to. You kissed him back like drowning. Like if you let go, you’d wash out to sea. His mouth tasted like champagne and salt and every bad decision you’d ever wanted to make. It was anger and relief and hunger all tangled together, all the years between you collapsing into something hot and breathless and overdue.

The world tilted. Or maybe it was just the boat. Or maybe it was him. You had the absurd thought that this was what slipping away from land felt like, that moment your feet stopped touching the ocean floor and suddenly there was nothing holding you up but instinct and want. Floating. Falling. The same thing, sometimes. His hands slid to your back, pulling you closer, and the sound that left him against your mouth was low, wrecked, like even he was surprised by the force of this.

You understood. Because kissing Heeseung felt like melting. Like sun-warmed skin slipping beneath water. Like losing the shape of yourself. Like becoming something softer, stranger, more dangerous. He kissed you like he was angry at how much he wanted to. You kissed him like you were tired of pretending you didn’t. And somewhere in the middle of it, all your carefully built walls, your rules, your boundaries, your clever little exits, went under like they had never been there at all.

His forehead rested against yours for one brief second, both of you breathing like you’d been running, like maybe you had. His thumb brushed your cheek. A tenderness so small it almost hurt more than the kiss. When he spoke, his voice was rough enough to sound like truth. “You make this impossible.” You smiled, breathless, your lips still close enough to steal.

“So do you.” Then his mouth was on yours again, and whatever was left of reason disappeared with the tide.

—

The rain started sometime after midnight. By morning, Jeju Island had turned silver. The sky hung low and heavy over the coastline, clouds blurring the horizon until the ocean and the storm became one endless sheet of grey-blue. Rain slid steadily down the windows in soft crooked lines, tapping against rooftops and palm leaves and the quiet little streets of the neighborhood with the kind of patience only summer storms possessed.

Everything felt slower in the rain. Softer. The beach emptied. Yacht plans were cancelled. The marina sat abandoned except for boats rocking gently against their docks like sleeping animals. For the first time all summer, the town stopped performing. And somehow, that felt dangerous too. You woke late to the sound of thunder somewhere far away, curled beneath your sheets with damp air drifting through the cracked window. Your phone rested beside your pillow, screen lighting softly against the grey room.

A text.

power’s out at our house.

Then, a second later:

mom says yours still has electricity

And finally:

tragic. devastating. i’ll survive somehow.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary. Then sighed. Because despite everything, despite all your promises to yourself about boundaries and self-preservation and not becoming the kind of girl who let boys ruin her summer, you were already smiling. An hour later, Heeseung arrived at your front door soaked from the rain.

Not drenched dramatically. Just enough that dark strands of hair clung messily to his forehead, rainwater catching along the line of his jaw and disappearing beneath the collar of his sweatshirt. The storm had turned the whole world softer around the edges, and standing there beneath the muted grey sky, he looked less like the polished golden boy everyone knew and more like something real. Your mother let him in with entirely too much enthusiasm. “Oh good,” she said brightly, already walking back toward the kitchen. “Now you can both stop pretending you don’t miss each other.”

“Mom,” you warned. Heeseung coughed into his sleeve to hide a smile. Rain followed him inside in traces, the smell of wet pavement and ocean wind clinging faintly to him as he stepped into the warmth of the house. For a moment, neither of you moved. No parties. No music. No late-night tension sharp enough to cut through.

Just quiet. The kind that made you suddenly aware of ordinary things. The soft ticking of rain against the windows. The oversized sweatshirt hanging off his shoulders. The fact that he looked at home here. That realization unsettled you more than it should have. The day unfolded slowly after that. Not exciting. Not dramatic. And maybe that was why it mattered.

You spent most of the afternoon in the living room while the storm darkened outside, half-watching terrible movies neither of you cared about. Your legs stretched across the couch beneath a blanket, his shoulder brushing yours every so often in that absent, thoughtless way intimacy sometimes arrived. At some point, your mother disappeared upstairs with a suspicious smile and the kind of timing that deserved investigation.

The rain deepened. Hours passed unnoticed. You learned strange things about each other in the quiet. Not the big things. Not the carefully curated versions people offered at parties. Small things. Real things. Heeseung hated peaches because he got sick eating too many as a kid one summer. You used to fake injuries during tennis lessons because you hated losing more than you liked sports.

He still remembered the time you punched a boy at thirteen for making Eunchae cry near the marina. “You broke his nose,” he recalled from the kitchen doorway, coffee mug in hand.

“He deserved worse.” “You were terrifying.” “I still am.” A smile touched his mouth then. Soft. Unthinking. Rainlight filled the room pale and blue around him, and suddenly the years between childhood and now felt strangely thin. Like maybe you had always been circling each other. Like maybe every version of yourselves had led here eventually. Later, thunder rolled low across the coastline while you sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch, flipping through an old photo album your mother had abandoned on the shelf years ago. 

Bad idea. There were photographs everywhere. Sunburnt summers. Beach days. Bonfires. All of you impossibly young. You paused on one picture, eight years old, missing front teeth, shoving Heeseung into the sand while he laughed hard enough to blur in the frame. Your chest tightened unexpectedly. “We look awful.”

“We look happy,” he corrected quietly. The room fell still after that. Outside, rainwater slid endlessly down the glass. Inside, something shifted. Not loudly, just enough to feel it. He sat down beside you on the floor, close enough that warmth gathered between you naturally. The photo album rested forgotten between your knees. And for the first time since this began, it didn’t feel like war. No tension sharpened into cruelty. No sarcasm waiting like a weapon.

Just this strange, aching softness neither of you knew how to hold. You turned another page slowly. Another photograph. Older this time. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. A summer party. You standing near the water laughing at something outside the frame while Heeseung looked at you instead. Not the camera. You. Your breath caught slightly. “You kept this?” He glanced down at the picture. Then away. Your pulse stumbled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His jaw shifted faintly. For a second, you thought he might dodge the question. Turn it into a joke. Deflect the way he always did whenever things came too close to honesty. Instead, his voice came quieter than you expected. “I think,” he said slowly, “I’ve spent a long time trying not to.”

The rain outside seemed to hush around the words. You looked at him carefully. Something vulnerable flickered there beneath all the practiced ease. Something raw enough to make your own chest ache in response. And suddenly you understood something terrifying, this was no longer just desire. Desire was simpler.

This, whatever this was becoming, had roots. Deep ones. You looked back down at the photograph because meeting his eyes felt too dangerous. “I used to hate summers here,” you admitted softly. The confession surprised even you. He looked at you then. “Why?” You traced your thumb along the edge of the page.

“Because everything always ended.” The words settled heavily between you, summer romances, bonfires, fireworks, warm nights, every beautiful thing in Jeju Island came with an expiration date stitched into it from the beginning, and suddenly, without meaning to, you had said something true. Something too true. You felt him shift closer beside you. Not touching. Almost worse.

For one suspended moment, it felt like standing at the edge of another confession, like both of you could ruin yourselves completely if you kept talking, so neither of you did. Cowards.

By evening, the storm had softened into a quiet drizzle. The whole house glowed warm against the rain-dark world outside, lamps casting amber light across the living room while distant thunder faded somewhere beyond the ocean. You’d lost track of time entirely. Dinner had happened somewhere in between conversation and silence and accidental touches that lasted too long. And now he stood near the front door pulling his sweatshirt back on while you lingered barefoot by the hallway, neither of you acknowledging how reluctant this felt. The rain tapped softly against the windows.

He looked tired. You probably did too. For one dangerous second, you almost asked him to stay. You could feel the question there, hovering at the back of your throat. Stay, not because of sex, not because of loneliness. Just, stay, and somehow that made it infinitely more frightening, across from you, he hesitated too, his hand resting on the doorknob, eyes on yours. Like he almost wanted to ask, but neither of you moved.

Because asking would mean admitting this had already crossed into something neither of you knew how to survive. So instead, he opened the door. Cool rain air slipped inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly. Not later. Tomorrow. Something about that felt dangerously permanent. You nodded once.

“Yeah.” He left. And somehow the house felt emptier after. You stood there for a long moment listening to the rain before your mother appeared behind you carrying two mugs of tea. She looked toward the door knowingly, then back at you. “You know,” she said lightly, “summer’s ending soon.”

The words hit like cold water. Suddenly, the room felt too small. Too warm. Your heartbeat stumbled somewhere beneath your ribs. Because for the first time all summer, the ending no longer felt theoretical. It felt real. And terrifyingly close.

Summer began leaving in pieces. Not all at once. That would have been kinder. Instead, Jeju Island unraveled slowly, quietly, like a tide pulling back from shore before anyone realized the water was disappearing. The marina grew emptier first. Boats vanished from their slips one by one, carried back toward cities and obligations and real lives waiting elsewhere. Beach houses that had glowed warm every night for months slowly darkened at the windows. Suitcases appeared in entryways. Goodbyes drifted through the neighborhood in soft, temporary promises.

See you next summer.

As if next summer was guaranteed. As if people stayed the same long enough for promises like that to survive. The air changed too, still warm, but thinner somehow, the evenings arriving earlier, sunsets softer, touched already by the melancholy of something ending, even the ocean looked different, darker blue, quieter, less forgiving. You hated noticing it, because noticing meant acknowledging the clock, and the clock meant him, everything suddenly seemed measured in remaining time, three more Friday nights, two more yacht parties, a handful of mornings left before the entire town dissolved back into memory. 

Your arrangement had always come with an expiration date stitched into it. Ends with summer. At the beginning, the rule had felt safe, now it felt like standing beneath a blade waiting to fall. You started sleeping badly after that, not because of him, because of the way he had started looking at you. More carefully, more openly, like somewhere along the way, he had grown tired of pretending.

It happened in small moments at first, his hand lingering too long at your waist before letting go, the way his gaze searched for you automatically in crowded rooms now, no hesitation, no embarrassment about it, how he no longer acted surprised by tenderness, as though caring had become instinctive, dangerous, dangerous things. And worst of all, he had stopped treating this like it was temporary.

You noticed it one evening at the beach. The sky had gone pale gold with approaching sunset, the shoreline nearly empty except for scattered locals and gulls drifting low over the water. You sat wrapped in one of his hoodies, knees pulled loosely to your chest while the tide crept closer across the sand. Heeseung sat beside you quietly, one arm draped over his bent knee, watching the horizon.

Comfortable silence stretched between you. The kind that should have felt peaceful. Instead, it terrified you, because this wasn’t supposed to become comfortable. Comfort implied permanence. Permanence implied loss. “You’re thinking too loudly,” he murmured eventually.

You glanced at him. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you get this look on your face when you’re spiraling.” You looked away too quickly. The ocean breathed in and out before you answered. “I’m not spiraling.”

“You started reorganizing the snacks in my kitchen alphabetically yesterday.”

“That was stress cleaning.”

“That was psychotic.” A faint smile touched your mouth despite yourself. His gaze softened when he saw it. There it was again, that look, something gentler, something infinitely more frightening. Your chest tightened.

You stood abruptly before the feeling could settle properly. “I should go.” The shift was immediate. You saw him notice it in real time, the distance, the retreat, his expression changed carefully, like someone stepping onto unstable ground. “You just got here.”

“I know.” Rain clouds gathered faintly over the horizon, turning the water darker beneath the evening light. You avoided his eyes while brushing sand from your legs, because lately every time you looked at him too long, something inside you started giving way, and you couldn’t afford that, not now, not with endings everywhere. The drive home was quiet. not tense, worse, careful, as though both of you could feel something fraying between your hands and neither knew how to stop pulling. After that, it became impossible not to notice. How often he reached for you now. How naturally your lives had begun folding together. How every goodbye felt heavier than the last.

And the more real he became, the more frightened you grew. So you started pulling away, subtly at first, taking longer to answer texts, leaving earlier, skipping late-night visits with excuses thin enough that even you didn’t believe them, too tired, family dinner, headache, lies, all of them, because the truth sounded too ugly to admit aloud: You were beginning to love him, and loving someone with an end date felt like volunteering for heartbreak in advance. He noticed immediately, of course he did, he had always known you too well.

One night at Sunoo’s house, while music drifted softly through crowded rooms and everyone else played cards half-drunk around the kitchen island, you felt his eyes on you from across the room almost constantly, not possessive, not angry, trying to understand, which somehow hurt worse. You laughed too brightly at things that weren’t funny. Let conversations distract you. Pretended not to see the way his jaw tightened every time you slipped further away from him. By midnight, the tension between you had become unbearable.

You found him eventually outside on the balcony overlooking the ocean, moonlight silvering the sharp edges of his profile. The wind moved softly through the dark. Neither of you spoke immediately. There was too much sitting between you now. Finally, he turned. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Not accusatory. Just tired. You crossed your arms tightly against yourself. “I’ve been busy.”

A pause. Then quietly, “That’s not true.” Something sharp moved through your chest. Because no matter how carefully you built distance, Heeseung always walked straight through it. You looked out toward the water instead, far easier than looking at him. The ocean below looked endless tonight, cold, restless. “I just think maybe we forgot what this was supposed to be.” The silence after that felt dangerous. When he spoke again, his voice had gone lower. “And what exactly was it supposed to be?” You swallowed, temporary, easy, nothing, but none of those words fit anymore. Not after rainy afternoons and forehead kisses and sleeping beside each other until sunrise, not after the way he looked at you now. 

You could feel him watching you carefully, waiting, and suddenly the pressure of it became unbearable, the ending hanging over everything, the fear curling tighter around your ribs every day this became more real, because if you admitted what this was becoming, then losing it would destroy you. So instead, you stepped backward emotionally the way frightened people always do. “You said it yourself,” you murmured. “This ends with summer.”

His expression shifted, hurt, this time, barely hidden, “And that’s all you want?” You opened your mouth, nothing came out, because the answer existed, because it terrified you. The wind moved cold against your skin, below you, waves crashed endlessly against the shore, over and over, like something trying desperately to return to land. He stared at you for a long moment. Then finally asked, softly enough to hurt, “What are we doing?”

The question hung there between you, not angry, not dramatic, honest, and honesty had become the most dangerous thing between the two of you. You looked at him, really looked, at the exhaustion in his eyes, the hope he was trying not to show, the terrifying possibility of being loved back. Your throat tightened painfully. But fear arrived faster, fear always did.

So instead of answering, you stayed silent, and in that silence, something began to break.

—

The storm rolled in after midnight, it didn't rain at first, just pressure, heavy clouds swallowing the sky whole, the air turning electric and difficult to breathe. Wind moved through Jeju Island in restless waves, rattling windows and palm trees and the fragile remains of your composure. You hadn’t slept. Couldn’t.

His question kept replaying in your head like something unfinished. What are we doing? You had no answer that didn’t terrify you. So instead, you spent hours pacing your room while lightning flickered faintly beyond the ocean horizon, illuminating the walls in brief silver flashes. Coward.

The word followed you everywhere now, by one in the morning, your thoughts had become unbearable, by one-thirty, you were walking toward his house through the storm, barefoot, sweatshirt pulled tight around yourself, heart beating too hard.

The neighborhood lay silent beneath the dark sky, every house asleep except his. Light still glowed beneath his bedroom door upstairs. Something inside your chest twisted painfully at that. Like some foolish part of you had hoped he’d be sleeping peacefully. Unaffected. But of course he wasn’t.

You knocked once before opening the door. He looked up immediately from the couch. And the moment your eyes met, you understood this was going to hurt. The room was dim except for one lamp near the window. Thunder murmured low outside, rain finally beginning against the glass in soft scattered drops. Heeseung stood slowly. Neither of you spoke at first.

The distance between you felt enormous. You hated it. You hated that you were the one who created it. “You came,” he said eventually. His voice sounded exhausted. You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter. “I couldn’t sleep.” Something unreadable moved across his face. For one dangerous second, it almost softened. Then he remembered. “What do you want me to say?”

There it was. No avoiding it now. Your pulse stumbled painfully. “I don’t know.” “That’s the problem.” The words landed harder than they should have. Thunder rolled somewhere closer now. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through the calm he’d been holding together for days. “I feel like I’m standing outside a locked door with you lately.”

You looked away immediately. Because if you looked at him too long, you would fold. “You’re making this more serious than it is.” Even saying it felt wrong. You could hear the lie rotting underneath the sentence. So could he, his laugh this time sounded hollow.

“Seriously?” You swallowed hard. “This was supposed to be simple.” “Simple?” His voice sharpened suddenly. “You think any of this has felt simple?” Rain hit harder against the windows. The room felt smaller now. Too warm. Too full of things neither of you knew how to survive. You took a step backward instinctively, he noticed, of course he noticed, and something inside him finally snapped.

“I’m tired,” he said quietly, “of pretending I don’t care.” Silence, the words settled into the room like lightning striking water, there it was, the thing both of you had spent all summer running from, not hidden anymore, not softened into implication, real. You stared at him, your heart hurt so badly it almost felt physical, because part of you had wanted this, wanted him to say it, and another part, the larger, more frightened part, wanted to run until your lungs gave out.

Loving someone meant they could leave. Summer always left. You knew that better than anyone. So fear reached for cruelty the way drowning people reached for air. You laughed softly. Wrong move. His expression changed immediately. You felt your own panic rising now, wild and sharp and impossible to control. “This was never supposed to mean anything.”

The second the words left your mouth, you wanted them back. Too late. Silence. Not dramatic. Worse. Stillness. You watched the hurt move across his face slowly, like something extinguishing. His eyes lost warmth first, then softness, then hope, and suddenly the room felt freezing. He nodded once, a small movement.

“Right,” he said quietly. “Got it.” You opened your mouth instantly. Nothing came out. Because the truth was trapped somewhere beneath all your fear, clawing at your ribs too late. He grabbed his keys from the counter. Didn’t look at you again. Thunder cracked outside just as he reached the door. “Heeseung—”

He stopped. For one second, hope flared painfully inside you again. Then he spoke without turning around. “I think,” he said softly, “I deserved better than that.” And left. The door shut behind him with terrifying finality. You stood there frozen while rain hammered against the windows and the storm swallowed the coastline whole. For the first time all summer, he didn’t come back, and afterward came silence. 

No texts. No late-night knocks at your window. No headlights outside your house. Nothing. Just absence. Cold and endless as the sea. After Heeseung left, summer collapsed in on itself. Not dramatically. No thunder. No shattered glasses. No cinematic unraveling loud enough for the world to notice. Just absence. Quiet and creeping and everywhere.

It settled over Jeju Island like fog rolling in from the ocean, slipping beneath doors and into lungs and through the spaces between ordinary things until everything familiar felt wrong. The beach became unbearable first. You still went sometimes out of habit, carrying books you never opened, towels that stayed folded beside you untouched. The shoreline stretched wide and glittering beneath the August sun, beautiful in the same indifferent way it had always been, but now it felt hollow somehow.

Like a photograph of somewhere you used to belong. Everywhere you looked, there were ghosts of him. Near the dunes where he had first kissed you like he was starving. At the marina docks where moonlight had turned his honesty into something dangerous. On the stretch of sand where he’d once laughed at you for trying to fight the tide after too much tequila and too little dignity. You kept expecting to see him.

Leaning against the lifeguard tower. Walking toward you through the surf. Looking at you the way he always did lately, like he had already memorized every version of your face. But the spaces stayed empty, and somehow emptiness had weight.

The parties weren’t any better. Without him, they felt exposed somehow. Too loud. Too artificial. Music thumping against hollow spaces where your heartbeat used to live. Champagne too sweet. Laughter arriving half a second too late to feel real. You drifted through them like someone haunting her own life.

People noticed, of course they did. Sunoo stopped cornering you with gossip and instead watched you carefully whenever you thought nobody was looking. Eunchae started hugging you too tightly before leaving parties. Even Yunjin, who usually treated emotional devastation like a spectator sport, went strangely quiet around you. One evening near the bonfire, while everyone else sat tangled in conversation and salt air and late-summer exhaustion, Sunghoon settled beside you silently with two drinks. You accepted one without looking at him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The fire cracked softly before him. The ocean breathed dark beyond the shoreline. Then finally, “You look miserable.” No judgment. Just fact. You let out a quiet laugh that sounded closer to breaking. “I’m fine.”

“Right.” The word carried enough disbelief to hurt. You stared down at the bottle in your hands. “You know,” he said after a moment, “you’re the first thing he’s ever taken seriously.” Your chest tightened immediately. You looked at him then. Sunghoon kept his gaze fixed on the fire. “He acts like nothing matters most of the time,” he continued quietly. “But you did.”

Past tense. The word sliced through you before you could stop it. You swallowed hard. The fire blurred faintly. “He won’t even come out with us anymore,” Sunghoon admitted. “Jay says he’s been packing.” Packing. Something cold moved through your ribs.

You looked away quickly toward the ocean because suddenly breathing felt difficult. Summer had always ended. You knew that. You had built your entire heart around that truth years ago. Nothing beautiful stayed. Not beach towns. Not warm nights. Not people. Especially not people.

But somehow, somewhere between the rainstorm and the yacht and the way he remembered your coffee order, you had forgotten. Or maybe you had simply hoped he would become the exception. That realization arrived slowly over the following days. Not all at once. In fragments. You missed him in stupid ways first. Reaching automatically for your phone after something funny happened.

Turning toward the empty seat beside you at dinner before remembering. Still wearing one of his hoodies to sleep because taking it off felt too much like admitting he was gone. You found traces of him everywhere. In your routines. In your silences. In yourself.

And the worst part was understanding that this grief did not feel temporary. It rooted itself deeper every day. One afternoon, rain threatened faintly over the coastline while you wandered through town half-distracted, passing storefronts already packing away summer displays. Towels disappearing from racks, souvenir stands closing early, seasonal flowers wilting slowly in the heat. August ending in real time. You paused outside the small café near the marina where you and Heeseung had once hidden from the heat for nearly two hours, sharing iced coffees and childhood stories neither of you had meant to tell.

You remembered the way he’d looked at you across the table that day, soft, unarmed. Like loving you had happened quietly when he wasn’t paying attention. The realization hit then, simple, terrible. Oh. This is love. Not infatuation, not summer lust, not convenience sharpened into attachment. Love.

Real enough to hollow you out. Real enough to ruin everything else afterward. You leaned against the storefront window, eyes burning suddenly. Horrible, absolutely horrible, because now you understood why everything felt wrong without him. He had become stitched into the shape of your summer so completely that removing him tore pieces out alongside it.

And worse, you had done this. Fear had done this. You replayed the fight endlessly afterward, every cruel sentence tasting more poisonous each time you remembered it. This was never supposed to mean anything. You had watched those words break him in real time, and still you’d said them. Coward.

By the final week of August, panic settled fully into your bloodstream. You started looking for him without meaning to. Driving past the Lee house too slowly. Watching the beach at sunset. Checking your phone at two in the morning like your body still expected him to return eventually. He never did. The silence between you became its own kind of violence. Finally, the worst part.

It happened accidentally. Your mother stood in the kitchen arranging flowers while late afternoon sunlight spilled gold across the countertops. Outside, cicadas buzzed lazily in the heat, summer sounding exhausted now. You barely listened until she said, “I saw Mrs. Lee earlier.” Something inside you immediately sharpened.

“Oh?” “She said Heeseung’s leaving tomorrow morning.” The world stopped. Your hand froze halfway around your coffee mug. “What?” Your mother glanced up, surprised by the sudden rawness in your voice. “He’s heading back early. Something about work starting sooner in Seoul this year.” Tomorrow. The word crashed through you like cold seawater. Tomorrow meant this was real. Tomorrow meant endings.

Tomorrow meant there was suddenly almost no time left to fix the thing you had destroyed with your own hands. Your pulse turned violent beneath your skin. Outside the window, the ocean stretched blue and endless beyond the cliffs, glittering beneath the fading August light. Beautiful. Temporary. Already slipping away.

—

The next morning arrived too bright. Cruel sunlight flooded Jeju Island in sheets of gold, the ocean glittering innocently beneath the sky like yesterday had not split your heart open. Everything looked painfully beautiful in the way endings often did.

You barely slept. Every hour had passed tangled in panic and memory and the unbearable realization that if you let him leave now, this would become one of those tragedies people carried forever.  The kind stitched permanently beneath your ribs. By nine in the morning, your hands were shaking. By nine-fifteen, you were in your car.

You drove too fast down the coastline road, sunlight flashing violently through the trees, your heartbeat louder than the music still playing faintly through the speakers. Wind rushed through the open windows carrying salt and heat and the last dying breath of summer. Your mind replayed him endlessly. The rainstorm. The yacht. The forehead kiss. The way he had looked at you like you were something worth staying soft for.

The moment his face went cold after your cruelty. You gripped the steering wheel harder. Not this. Please not this. The marina came into view suddenly beyond the cliffs, boats swaying gently beneath the sunlight. People moved lazily along the docks carrying luggage and coffees and ordinary lives. Heeseung. Standing near the end of the dock beside one of the ferries heading toward the mainland.

White T-shirt. Dark sunglasses. One duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Leaving. The sight hit you so hard you nearly forgot to breathe. For one terrible second, fear almost won again. Turn around. Protect yourself. Pretend this never mattered. Then he glanced up. Saw you. And everything stopped. You barely remembered getting out of the car. Only the sound of your footsteps against the dock, the ocean below, your pulse roaring loud enough to drown the gulls overhead.

He straightened slowly as you approached, no smile, no anger either, just exhaustion, like he had finally become tired of hoping, that hurt most. You stopped a few feet away from him, sunlight breaking across the water between you both. Neither of you spoke at first.

Words suddenly felt impossibly small compared to everything sitting between your ribs. Finally, he exhaled quietly, “You came.” The simplicity of it nearly broke you, no accusation, no bitterness, just surprise, your throat tightened painfully. “I had to.” The wind moved softly around you, carrying warmth off the ocean.

He looked at you carefully then, like he was trying not to expect too much, and suddenly you realized something devastating, if you stayed silent now, you would lose him forever, no more pride, no more running, just truth, your eyes burned. “I was scared,” you admitted first. The words came rough, fragile around the edges. Heeseung stayed perfectly still. So you kept going before courage disappeared again.

“I think…” You swallowed hard. “I think I knew what this was becoming before you did. And it terrified me because everything here ends eventually and I didn’t know how to love someone without already grieving them.” His expression shifted slightly. You stepped closer. “I said those things because I thought if I ruined this first, it would hurt less when summer ended.”

Your voice cracked embarrassingly on the last word. The ocean blurred faintly behind him. “But it already hurts,” you whispered. “It hurts all the time.” Silence. Not empty. Listening. You looked at him fully then, no defenses left anywhere inside you. “I was stupid.” A breath. “And cruel.” Another. “And completely in love with you.”

Just love. Messy and terrifying and real enough to destroy you if he rejected it. Your chest ached violently waiting for him to say something. Anything. Heeseung stared at you for a long moment that felt endless beneath the August sun. Then finally, he laughed softly, not mockingly, disbelieving, like he had spent the entire summer waiting for a miracle and couldn’t quite believe it had arrived, you frowned immediately through the tears threatening your eyes. “That’s your reaction?”

He stepped closer. Close enough now that you could see the exhaustion beneath his eyes, the relief slowly undoing it. “I’ve been waiting all summer for you to admit that,” he said quietly. Idiot. You made a broken sound halfway between a laugh and a sob before grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him, hard, desperate enough to make up for every moment you wasted being afraid. His hands found your waist instantly, pulling you against him with something almost painful in its urgency, and suddenly the entire world dissolved into sunlight and saltwater and relief.

The kiss felt different now, not drowning, not war, like finally reaching shore after spending months lost at sea, his forehead rested against yours when you finally pulled apart, both of you breathing unevenly beneath the burning light. “You are unbelievably difficult,” he murmured.

You laughed wetly. “You stayed anyway.” “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I did.” Around you, the marina continued moving, boats departing, gulls crying overhead, summer ending one irreversible second at a time. But for the first time since this began, nothing about this felt temporary anymore.

—

The late afternoon light filtered through the curtains of Heeseung’s bedroom, casting a golden haze over tangled sheets and bare skin. Months had passed since that messy night, since the angry kisses and the “this was a mistake” lies. What started as stolen moments and stubborn denial had slowly, stubbornly, become something real.

Now, you were exactly where you belonged, underneath him, legs locked around his waist as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried strokes. Every thrust pulled a fresh sound from your throat. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, back arching as pleasure coiled tight in your core. “Heeseung— mmph!” Your cry was muffled as he leaned down and kissed you, slow and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours while his hips kept that devastating rhythm. Heeseung chuckled warmly against your mouth, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He kissed you once more, softer this time, then pressed his lips gently to your forehead, lingering there as he stayed buried deep inside you.

Still teasing. Still chaos. Still both completely insufferable. But now it was real. He pulled back just enough to look at you, sweat-damp hair falling over his eyes, that signature smirk playing on his lips even while he was still pulsing inside you. “Thought I told you not to fall in love with me,” he murmured, voice low and rough with affection.

You smiled up at him, glowing and utterly wrecked, your hand coming up to brush his hair back.

“Thought I told you not to call.” Heeseung let out a genuine laugh, the kind that made your chest feel too full. He rolled his hips once more, slow and deep, drawing a soft gasp from you before stilling again. “Yeah, well… I never was good at listening,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “That night after the party, when I texted you to come over… I told myself it was just one more mistake. One more time and we’d get it out of our systems.”

You raised an eyebrow, tracing your fingers down his spine. “And how’s that working out for you?” “Terribly,” he admitted, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Because every time you walked away, I kept thinking about you. Every summer. Every fight. Every time you looked at me like you wanted to kill me and kiss me at the same time.”

He shifted slightly, still deep inside you, and rested his forehead against yours. “I kept telling myself not to fall. And then you showed up at my door the next morning anyway. Stubborn as hell. Beautiful as ever.” You laughed softly, tightening your legs around him. “You’re the one who kept calling. Kept texting. Kept pulling me back in.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, that rare vulnerable look breaking through the cocky exterior. “Because I couldn’t stop. Even when I tried.” His thumb stroked your cheek. “Guess I’m the idiot who fell first.” The room felt smaller, warmer, wrapped in golden light and years of history finally settling into place. All the almosts, the what-ifs, the angry almost-kisses on balconies and beaches, they had led here. To this. You pulled him down into another kiss, slow and sweet this time, savoring the way he melted against you.

When you broke apart, Heeseung froze for half a second, then broke into the brightest, most boyish grin you’d ever seen on him.“That’s what this whole thing has been, hasn’t it? One long, messy ‘maybe’ that turned into forever.” You nodded, eyes shining. “No more mistakes. No more running. Just us.”

“Just us,” he echoed. He kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, and started moving inside you once more, slow and intentional, like he was sealing the words into your skin. The laughter faded into soft moans and whispered names, the two of you losing yourselves in each other one more time.

Later, as the sun dipped lower and you lay tangled together under the sheets, Heeseung’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare back, he pressed one last kiss to your shoulder.

“So… Call Me Maybe?” he asked, smirking.

You grinned. “Only if you promise to always pick up.”

“Deal.”

It’s safe to say that no one wanted to feel James’s fire (pun intended) since that day. To you, it was actually a surprise to see his power. As the child of overprotective superheroes, you were finally able to show your powers after they manifested at the age of six, after you woke up feverish and frightened from a nightmare, and scared the living shit out of your nanny at the time.

Your mother remembered how ice crawled over your blankets in delicate silver veins, the window frosted over despite the summer heat outside. Your father burst into the room first, radiant in his gold-and-white suit, while your mother followed close behind with panic carved into her beautiful face.

They took all the time to teach you how to control your emotions and not to use your abilities around civilians, even if they were really close to you, and you were prohibited from practicing unsupervised.

So while everyone else at Sky High learned to fly, bench-press buses, or summon storms in gym class at kindergarten, you learned to remain calm and pretend your fingers didn’t ache every time someone brushed against your skin. The good news was that, after years of asking to go to Sky High (more than a decade, at this point) since the day you found your parents’ yearbook, you were finally able to do what you always wanted to do, promising you to do your best and get along with the children of their friends, whom thankfully, you did.

Until you saw James burn the bully’s ass off. The nurse had to pull out a fire extinguisher while the poor guy screamed for, like, ten minutes.

The memory still lingered vividly in your mind as you stood near your locker two weeks later, books pressed against your chest while students flooded through the hallway around you in noisy waves. And through all of it, James walked like he hated every second.

Everyone started to make some space when they saw his usual black boots and a worn leather jacket appear in the hallways. Hands shoved into his pockets like he was physically restraining himself from punching someone.

You tried not to stare. And failed miserably every single time.

Because James was terrifying, yes, but he was also unfairly pretty.

Sharp jaw. Dark eyes. Short hair with a few red strands. Sometimes he wore a scowl that should’ve made him unattractive, but it does the exact opposite. There was always warmth radiating from him, too—you notice it because your body reacts to temperatures instinctively. He basically felt like standing too close to a bonfire in winter.

Those two weeks, you built up the courage to talk to him with the help of Martin and Keonho, backing down once you were near his table and doing a “U” turn, just like you did today once you saw how one boot propped against the chair opposite him to discourage company.

What you didn’t expect, while putting on your protective gear, was for you and him to be paired together in P.E. to play probably one of the most nerve-wracking yet interesting games: Save the Citizen.

“Partners,” Coach Boomer barked from across the gym, clipboard tucked under his arm. “Move it!”

Students scrambled across the polished floor to have a clear view of the mechanical citizen mannequin hung high above the giant metal shredder in the center of the arena swinging slightly on its cable, while warning sirens blared overhead.

You stood frozen, your peripheral vision catching James standing lazily. Coach Boomer pointed directly at you. “Cryokinesis and Fireboy. You’re Team Hero.”

“Oh my God,” Martin whispered dramatically while passing by you in his own gear. “If you two explode, I’m taking cover behind the bleachers.”

Keonho gave you two thumbs up. “Try not to die.”

You nearly choked. “What do you mean by die?”

“You gonna stand there all day?” James asked.

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“The game starts in thirty seconds.”

“Oh. Right.”

James glanced at you again, eyes flickering briefly toward the frost forming unconsciously around your fingertips. You immediately shoved your hands behind your back.

“You nervous?” he asked.

You blinked. “A little.”

“Don’t be.”

“Easy for you to say that since you could probably punch through a wall if things go south.”

The Villain Team across the arena cracked their knuckles dramatically as the countdown started. The giant shredder roared louder beneath the dangling mannequin, and James glanced sideways at you.

“Stay behind me,” he muttered.

The buzzer screamed, and almost immediately, the chaos exploded.

One of the villains launched forward with super speed while another hurled purple energy blasts across the arena. James reacted before you could even process it—fire erupted down his arms in brilliant orange waves as he stepped in front of you, knocking a blast away with sheer force.

The heat should’ve burned you, but your powers reacted instinctively as the cold air spiraled outward from your body in silver-white mist, colliding against his flames without extinguishing them completely. Steam hissed violently between you both.

James looked back at you sharply.

Your stomach dropped. “Sorry—”

“Do that again.”

“What?”

“The steam. Do it again.” Another attack came flying toward you. This time, you reacted together.

James threw fire at the same time you released ice. The collision erupted into a massive cloud of steam so thick that the opposing team immediately lost sight of you both.

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Oh,” James echoed. Then, unexpectedly, He grinned. It transformed his entire face, causing you to almost walk directly into a laser beam. “Focus,” James barked, grabbing your wrist suddenly and yanking you sideways.

The touch lasted barely a second, enough for your body to react immediately as frost crawled up his sleeve and both of you stared at it. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

Flames flickered gently beneath it, melting the thin layer you did and falling into droplets almost instantly.

“Huh,” he said quietly.

The game continued around you in violent bursts of powers and screaming students, but suddenly, all you could think about was the fact that James was still standing close enough for you to feel his warmth against your skin. And it was weird, considering how most people flinched from the cold.

Your parents loved you, of course, but even they subconsciously avoided prolonged contact when your emotions got unstable, even after spending years learning how not to freeze things accidentally. Clearly, watching James step closer as if it didn’t matter has had an impact on you right now, despite the situation.

“Hey,” he said.

You blinked rapidly. “What?”

“The citizen.”

Right. The giant fake civilian was still dangling toward imminent death, and each second the cable was lowering faster now, inching closer toward the spinning blades beneath it. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Doesn’t sound so reassuring.”

“It’s not.”

Fair enough.

Before you could ask further, James grabbed your arm again and pulled you forward through the steam cloud you created. Heat engulfed you, overwhelming you. But the villains spotted you immediately.

“THERE!”

Energy blasts came flying, and James blocked the first with fire as you froze the second midair. The third almost hit you directly before James shoved you behind him hard enough that flames burst violently across his shoulders.

“James!”

“I’m fine.”

He absolutely was not fine. One blast had clipped his side, making smoke curl from his jacket. Anger flashed through you so fast that the temperature in the arena dropped several degrees at the sight of them laughing.

Ice exploded across the floor, and the villain team slipped instantly.

James stared at the frozen arena beneath your feet.

“Remind me not to piss you off.”

You winced. “Sorry.”

“Why do you keep apologizing?”

Another alarm blared overhead. “THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING!”

“The cable,” James said suddenly. You followed his gaze upward.

“I’ll freeze it, you melt the release lock.”

“That’s insane.”

“Probably, but right now, I don’t care.” Both of you sprinted forward. James launched himself upward first, using bursts of fire beneath his feet to catch one of the support beams overhead, followed by you freezing footholds along the metal structure fast enough to climb after him.

The heat from his flames met your ice continuously, steam curling around both of you like storm clouds.

Below, the villains recovered. “STOP THEM!”

You slammed your hand against the descending cable, and ice shot upward instantly in glittering crystalline veins, freezing the mechanism solid. At the same moment, James thrust both burning hands toward the release lock.

The mannequin dropped directly into James’s arms a second before the buzzer rang.

GAME OVER.

Applause exploded everywhere. Coach Boomer looked emotionally devastated to admit it, but even he seemed impressed.

“Hero Team wins!”

James dropped lightly onto the arena floor with the mannequin under one arm. You climbed down more carefully, adrenaline still hammering through your veins. The second your boots touched the ground, students crowded around both of you excitedly.

Coach Boomer ruined the moment entirely. “You two,” he barked. “Good work. Terrifying teamwork. Hate whatever this weird elemental thing is you got going on.”

“Thanks?” you offered weakly.

The bell rang, and all the students slowly began dispersing toward the locker rooms afterward, still buzzing excitedly about the match. You started gathering your things as quickly as possible after changing, heart still racing from everything that had happened. You noticed James walking away with one of his hands shoved into his pockets while the other fixed the strap of his backpack.

“Oh, hey…” You said, catching his attention. “Uhm… you did well today. Sorry if I caused any trouble today.”

“Don’t bother. I’m surprised that you are a sidekick rather than a hero. Why?”

Your gaze drifted away after the question. “I’ve never actually used my powers on command, so when Coach Bommer at the beginning of the school year told me to show them off, I got designated in that category.”

“You froze half the arena,” he said finally. “Doesn’t exactly scream sidekick.”

Heat crawled up your neck instantly. “That was an accident.”

“You say sorry a lot for someone who almost won the game by herself.”

“I did not win by myself.”

James shrugged one shoulder lazily, though you caught the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Sure.”

From that day onward, the two of you somehow kept finding each other.

Passing each other between classes and exchanging brief conversations that stretched longer each time. Sitting near each other during lunch because every other table in the cafeteria felt too loud. Training together whenever Coach Boomer paired students for combat exercises because, according to him, your powers “made terrifyingly good chemistry.”

Nobody took the adjustment normally.

Martin nearly inhaled an entire carton of chocolate milk the first time he saw James sit beside you voluntarily during lunch and not at his usual table at the very corner. Even looking everywhere to see if it was some sort of sophomore prank, and honestly, so were you.

Keonho reacted even worse.

“Oh my God,” he whispered dramatically, staring between both of you as he’d just witnessed history unfolding in real time. “The apocalypse is real.”

Juhoon attempted to remain calm. “To be fair, James hasn’t threatened anyone in almost three days.”

“That’s progress,” Seonghyeon agreed solemnly.

James looked up from stealing one of your fries. “I can still hear you.”

“See?” Martin said, pointing aggressively. “He’s communicating.”

“You guys are unbearable,” you muttered, trying not to laugh.

James leaned back in his chair beside you, dark eyes half-lidded with annoyance. “Do you realize idiots surround you?”

“Hey! But you just joined us today. We are good.”

James didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze flickered briefly toward you before he looked away again. The tips of your fingers turned cold instantly.

It became frighteningly easy to be around him after that.

James still carried that sharp edge around everyone else. He still looked intimidating, standing in hallways with his leather jacket, dark expression, and permanent aura of barely restrained violence. Most students continued moving out of his way instinctively.

Just when both of you were alone, he softened.

He waited for you outside your classrooms without mentioning it. He carried your books whenever your hands got too cold after training. During combat exercises, he instinctively stepped closer anytime your powers became unstable, his warmth grounding you before panic could spiral too far.

And James noticed everything about you, too.

He noticed when you were overwhelmed before you even spoke, and he will warm up a tea. He noticed how your powers reacted to your emotions, how frost appeared unconsciously whenever you were anxious, embarrassed, or angry. He noticed when you skipped meals after difficult training sessions and silently shoved snacks onto your desk afterward without explanation or being seen.

Being near him stopped feeling frightening, and the realization hit nearly three months later, when James showed up outside your house carrying his physics textbook with an expression that already looked irritated. Principal Power personally called you to tutor him so he can pass Mad Science with at least a D.

“You’re failing?” you asked in disbelief after analyzing all of his tests.

James took off his leather jacket, revealing that “Smashing Pumpkins” shirt, dropping heavily into the chair beside your desk. “Apparently.”

“You literally scored highest in combat strategy last week.”

“Yeah, because combat strategy is similar to P.E.” He opened the textbook as it had personally offended him, pointing at all the study cases and scientific formulas. “This doesn’t.”

You tried not to smile while sitting beside him. Outside your window, rain tapped softly against the glass while warm lamplight filled the room in a soft golden glow. The atmosphere felt strangely intimate despite the scattered papers covering your desk.

“Okay,” you said, pulling the textbook closer. “Show me what you don’t understand.”

“Everything.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“Neither is physics nor science to me.”

You laughed quietly before pointing toward one of the problems.

The hours passed by, and with each hour, you would do a decent ice cube for him to melt and have water, too lazy and focused to go down to your own kitchen. 

 “Oh! This is nice, we reached the columns of easy problems.”

“Are there any easy ones, or is it you being smart?”

“C’mon, you just need to calculate the force trajectory based on velocity—”

James leaned closer beside you to look at the page. The movement brought him close enough for his shoulder to brush yours, the instant cold spread sharply through your fingertips while warmth radiated from him at the same time, causing thin frost to creep unconsciously across the edge of your notebook.

James noticed immediately. “Still freezing things when you’re nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’re lying.” Your stomach tightens before looking away to calm yourself.

“That obvious?”

“To me?” James leaned back slightly in his chair, though his arm still brushed yours. “Yeah.”

Rain continued tapping against the windows while your heartbeat became embarrassingly loud in your own ears. James sat close enough that you could feel the steady warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that your powers instinctively reacted to him without permission.

It was strange.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “you don’t apologize as much anymore.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around your pencil. “I got comfortable.”

“With me?” The question sounded casual, but the way he looked at you wasn’t.

“Maybe.”

James turned slightly in his chair until he was fully facing you now, one arm draped across the backrest while his gaze held yours steadily. The air between you felt warmer as your cold curled instinctively toward his heat until faint steam rose where frost touched the edge of the desk near his hand.

Neither of you mentioned it.

“You still get nervous around me,” he said quietly.

“A little.”

“Why?”

You stared at him for a second in disbelief. “James.”

“What?”

“You cannot seriously ask me that.”

A faint smirk tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth. “I want to hear you say it.”

Your face burned instantly. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Unfortunately, he sounded entirely too confident about that. James’s hand moved before you could retreat completely, his fingers tilted your chin gently upward until you were forced to meet his eyes again.

The touch alone nearly destroyed your ability to think.

Heat spread across your skin while frost crept instinctively along the sleeves of your hoodie. James’s thumb rested lightly near your jaw, warm enough to melt every icy thought straight out of your head. He leaned closer, your breath tangled somewhere in your throat as the distance between you disappeared inch by inch. His forehead brushed yours first, and James inhaled sharply at the contact.

The room felt impossibly quiet now except for the rain outside and the uneven rhythm of your breathing. His gaze dropped briefly toward your mouth before lifting again, dark eyes heavy with restraint. Your hands went to the back of his neck, closing the remaining distance carefully, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it almost didn’t feel real at first. Both of your powers reacted violently beneath your skins as cold air curled through the room while embers sparked faintly near James’s fingertips.

Neither of you cared.

The kiss deepened slowly after that, hesitant only for a moment before James’s hand slid gently against your waist, pulling you closer like he’d been holding himself back for weeks. Which, honestly, he probably had.

Who would’ve thought that ice and fire would go so well and look this good?

─── GUESS WHO'S SHADOWBANNED i'm very pissed since that is indeed making me go on a semi-hiatus until further notice. Still. I wanted to scratch my itch of doing James as my childhood crush Warren Peace from the movie "Sky High"... idk if some of you even watched it (maybe bc you are quite young) BUT AT LEAST I DID IT, AND I'M HAPPY.

Heeseung ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. The congee he had cooked for you was still sitting forgotten on the kitchen counter, its smell now making you look even sicker. He set the pregnancy test down on the sink counter carefully, as if it might break.He didn’t know what to feel.

Part of him was angry that you had planned to go through this without saying a single word to him. Another part understood your fear he knew how much you hated him, how hard you had tried to pretend that night never happened. But the hurt lingered.

The realization that you were carrying his child and had already decided to end it without giving him any say it stung more than he expected.He crouched down slowly so he was closer to your eye level, though he kept some distance.“You were just going to do it and never tell me?” he asked, voice quieter now, but still carrying that edge of pain. “That’s my kid too, you know.”You didn’t answer. You just cried harder, curling in on yourself.

Heeseung stayed there on the bathroom floor with you, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. The silence between you was heavy, filled with everything neither of you had said since that night.For the first time since he found the test, he didn’t know what to do next.

Heeseung remained crouched on the cold bathroom floor, the pregnancy test long forgotten somewhere . The two red lines seemed to burn into his vision no matter how many times he blinked. The weight of what they meant pressed down on him heavily, making it hard to breathe normally.

You were sitting right in front of him, knees drawn up to your chest, face buried in your arms as quiet sobs continued to shake your shoulders. Your breathing was ragged, broken by hiccups, and your entire body looked small and fragile under the harsh bathroom light.Heeseung swallowed the lump in his throat. He set the test gently on the edge of the sink, then slowly shifted closer until he was sitting cross legged on the floor beside you.His voice came out quieter than he had ever spoken to you before.

“I support your decision,” he said carefully, choosing every word with caution. “If you really want to end this, then I support it. I won’t fight you on it. But I want you to think again, okay? Don’t make the choice right now while you’re scared and exhausted. Just give yourself a little time to be sure.”You lifted your head slowly. Your eyes were red and swollen, tears still streaming freely down your cheeks. Your voice cracked when you finally spoke.

“I don’t know if I can take the responsibility of a child,” you whispered, the words trembling. “I’m still in school my capstone project is due soon, I have exhibitions I want to curate one day I can’t do this. I’m not ready for any of it. I never asked for this. I never wanted this to happen.”

The raw fear and despair in your voice hit Heeseung harder than he expected. He watched as another wave of tears spilled over, and something inside his chest twisted painfully.Without thinking, he opened his arms.“Come here,” he murmured. You hesitated for only a second before you leaned forward and collapsed against him. The moment his arms wrapped around you, you broke completely. Heavy, gut wrenching sobs tore out of your throat as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hands clutching desperately at the front of his hoodie.

Heeseung held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed slow, soothing circles along your spine. He could feel every shudder that ran through your body, every shaky inhale against his shoulder. Your tears soaked through the fabric of his hoodie, warm and wet, but he didn’t pull away even for a second.

This wasn’t the Heeseung who loved teasing you in the hallway.Right now, he was just a boy holding a girl who was falling apart in his arms the same girl who had spent months hating him, and the same girl who was now carrying his child.

“I’ll book the appointment,” he whispered against your hair, his voice low and steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. “I’ll find a good clinic and take you there myself, okay? I’ll be right there with you the entire time in the waiting room, during the consultation, whatever you need. You aren’t alone in this. I promise you that.”

You cried even harder at his words, your fingers tightening in his hoodie as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your sobs echoed softly in the small bathroom, raw and heartbreaking.Heeseung continued holding you, rocking you ever so slightly as he rubbed your back. He pressed his cheek gently against the top of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo mixed with the salt of your tears.

“I know you’re scared,” he murmured. “I’m scared too. But we’ll figure this out whatever you decide you don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.”You stayed like that for a long time curled against his chest on the bathroom floor, his arms wrapped securely around you. Your crying gradually slowed into quiet, exhausted sniffles, but you didn’t pull away. For the first time since that reckless night, the wall between the two of you didn’t feel like a barrier anymore.It felt like something you could both lean on.

Heeseung didn’t rush you. He simply held you, letting you cry until your body grew heavy with exhaustion against him. His hand never stopped its gentle motion on your back, offering the only comfort he knew how to give right now.In that quiet, heavy moment, Heeseung wasn’t the campus king or the arrogant basketball captain. He was just Heeseung and for the first time, you allowed yourself to lean on him completely.

The next few days passed in a strange, heavy blur. After that night on your bathroom floor, something between you and Heeseung had quietly shifted. You had cried yourself exhausted in his arms, and he had stayed holding you without any cocky remarks or teasing. When your sobs finally slowed, he helped you back to bed, made sure you drank some water, and only left after you fell asleep.The following morning, he texted you.

Heeseung : Appointment booked. 7th September, 4:00 PM at the women’s health clinic downtown. I’ll drive you there

You stared at the message for a long time, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to tell him not to bother. That you could handle it alone. But you were too drained, too scared, and too nauseous to argue. So you simply replied

You : okay

The week leading up to the appointment was one of the hardest you had ever experienced.Your symptoms got significantly worse.The nausea was almost constant now. You threw up multiple times a day sometimes so violently that your throat burned afterward. Smells were unbearable even walking past the campus bakery made you gag. The fatigue was bone deep. You fell asleep in lectures twice, and once you had to excuse yourself from a group meeting because the dizziness became too strong.

Your breasts were painfully tender, and you felt emotionally fragile crying over small things like a sad song or a missed bus.Yunjin and Soobin were growing more suspicious.“Babe, you’ve lost weight,” Yunjin said one afternoon, frowning as she looked at you. “And you look exhausted. This isn’t just capstone stress. Tell us what’s really going on.”

Soobin nodded, his usual soft eyes filled with worry. “If you’re sick, we can help. You don’t have to keep saying you’re ‘fine’ when you clearly aren’t.”You forced a tired smile and gave them the same answer you’d been repeating all week.“I’m alright really just a lot on my plate right now. I’ll feel better soon.”They didn’t fully believe you, but they stopped pushing after a while. Still, you could feel their concerned glances every time you excused yourself to the bathroom or declined food.Through all of it, Heeseung showed a side of himself you had never seen before.He texted you every day.

Heeseung : Did you eat anything today?

Heeseung : How are you feeling this morning?

Heeseung : I’m heading to practice. Text me if the nausea gets bad

You had told him multiple times not to worry.

You : You don’t have to do this im fine

You : Please stop checking on me

But Heeseung ignored your protests completely. Every morning, he waited outside your door to walk with you to the university. When you told him it wasn’t necessary, he simply replied, “I’m going the same way anyway,” and continued doing it. In the evenings, he offered to pick you up from the library if you stayed late. You refused most of the time, but on two occasions when the dizziness was especially bad, you quietly accepted.

He also started cooking for you.He would knock on your door in the evenings with containers of simple, gentle food plain rice porridge with ginger, mild chicken soup, steamed vegetables, and light broths that didn’t trigger your nausea. At first, you felt awkward accepting them, but the meals were the only things you could keep down without throwing up immediately afterward.One night, after he brought over a bowl of warm congee, you finally muttered a quiet “Thank you” while sitting at your desk.Heeseung just shrugged, leaning against your doorway.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “Just eat.”You watched him leave and felt a confusing swirl of emotions gratitude, guilt, anxiety, and something warmer you didn’t want to name. This was not the loud, cocky Heeseung you had spent months hating. This version was quiet, patient, and surprisingly caring. It made everything feel even more complicated.As the 7th of September drew closer, your anxiety skyrocketed.You kept having second thoughts.

What if I’m making a mistake?

What if I regret this later?

What if I can’t go through with it?

You would lie awake at night, hand resting on your still flat stomach, tears silently sliding down your cheeks. The fear and confusion were overwhelming. On the night before the appointment, Heeseung sent you one last text

Heeseung : I’ll pick you up at 3:30 tomorrow. Try to get some rest. I’m here if you need anything

You stared at the message for a long time, heart heavy with emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle.You were terrified.You were grateful.And you had no idea what you were going to do.

The 7th of September arrived faster than you wanted.

You had decided to skip all your classes that day. The thought of sitting through lectures while pretending everything was normal felt impossible. Instead, you stayed in your apartment, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, heart racing every time you checked the clock. Anxiety sat heavy in your chest like a stone. Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and the nausea was especially bad today though you couldn’t tell if it was from pregnancy symptoms or pure terror.

You barely ate. You barely moved. You just sat there, staring into space, wondering if you were really about to go through with this.At exactly 3:30 PM, a soft knock sounded on your door.You jumped slightly, even though you’d been expecting it. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened the door.

Heeseung stood there, dressed in a simple black hoodie and grey sweatpants. His hair was still slightly damp, like he’d showered after practice — or maybe he hadn’t gone at all. His expression was calm, but his eyes held a quiet seriousness.“I skipped practice today,” he said simply, as if it was no big deal. “Ready to go?”

You nodded wordlessly, grabbing your bag and stepping out. The walk to his car was silent. The ride to the clinic was even quieter.You sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, but your hands betrayed your nerves. You kept fidgeting twisting your fingers, picking at your nails, clenching and unclenching your fists in your lap. The anxiety was eating you alive.

Heeseung noticed after a few minutes.Without saying anything, he reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a small star shaped squishy toy, and held it out to you.“Here,” he said gently. “Squeeze this instead of hurting your hands.”You looked at the soft, pastel yellow star for a second before slowly taking it from him. It was surprisingly soft and satisfying to press. You mumbled a quiet, “Thank you,” barely audible, then started squeezing it rhythmically in your lap.

The small gesture made your throat feel tight.

For a while, the car was silent again, only the low hum of the engine filling the space. Then Heeseung spoke, keeping his voice soft and casual, clearly trying to distract you.“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Nauseous tired scared.”He nodded, eyes fixed on the road. “That’s understandable. You don’t have to be strong right now, you know. It’s okay to be scared.”

You squeezed the star toy harder. After a moment, you asked quietly, “Did you really skip practice for this?”“Yeah,” he answered without hesitation. “Coach wasn’t happy, but I told him it was important. He’ll get over it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you stayed quiet. Heeseung didn’t push. Instead, he continued with light, careful small talk asking about your capstone project, telling you a harmless story about Beomgyu messing up a drill during practice yesterday, even mentioning how the weather was supposed to cool down next week. His voice stayed steady and low, never teasing, never cocky just there.

Before you knew it, the car slowed down.

You blinked and looked up. The clinic building stood in front of you modern, discreet, with a small sign that made your stomach drop. You hadn’t even realized how fast the drive had gone.Heeseung parked the car smoothly and turned off the engine. For a moment, neither of you moved. The silence returned, heavier this time.You kept squeezing the star toy, knuckles turning white.

Heeseung turned to look at you, his expression gentle but serious.“We’re here,” he said softly. “Whenever you’re ready I’ll go in with you. Or I can wait in the car. Whatever you want.”Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. The reality of why you were here hit you all over again. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you forced them back.You whispered, almost to yourself “I don’t know if I can do this”

Heeseung didn’t reply right away. He simply reached over and gently placed his hand on top of yours, the one still squeezing the star toy grounding you for a moment.“You don’t have to decide everything right now,” he said. “Let’s just go inside first. One step at a time.”You nodded shakily, still clutching the squishy star like a lifeline.The appointment was finally here.

And you had no idea what you were going to do.You and Heeseung walked into the clinic together.

The moment the automatic doors slid open, a wave of cool, sterile air hit you. Your heart was hammering so hard you felt dizzy. Heeseung stayed close beside you, not touching you, but near enough that you could feel his presence like a quiet anchor.The waiting room was brighter and softer than you expected. Soft beige walls, comfortable chairs, and gentle lighting. But what really hit you were the other women.

Several pregnant women were sitting around the room. One was gently rubbing her rounded belly while smiling down at her phone. Another was showing ultrasound pictures to the woman beside her, both of them laughing softly with pure joy on their faces. A third woman, quite far along, was resting her hands protectively over her bump, looking peaceful and content.You froze for a second, taking it all in.

These women looked happy excited ready.

You, on the other hand, felt like you were walking toward something terrifying. Your hand tightened around the star-shaped squishy toy Heeseung had given you in the car, squeezing it hard.Heeseung glanced at you but said nothing. He simply stayed by your side as you both approached the reception desk.

You cleared your throat, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi… I have an appointment at 4:00. My name is [Your Name].”The receptionist smiled kindly and checked her computer. “Yes, I see you here. Please fill out this short form and have a seat. The doctor will call you shortly.”You quickly filled out the paperwork with shaky hands while Heeseung waited beside you. Once you handed it back, the receptionist nodded politely.“You can wait over there. It won’t be long.”

You both moved to two empty seats in the corner. The moment you sat down, your leg started bouncing anxiously. You kept squeezing the star squishy toy over and over, the soft pressure somehow helping you stay grounded. Heeseung sat quietly next to you, elbows resting on his knees, saying nothing but staying close.The silence between you two was heavy but not uncomfortable.

Every few seconds, your eyes would drift back to the pregnant women around the room. One of them laughed softly as she showed her partner an ultrasound photo. Another woman caressed her belly lovingly while reading a pregnancy magazine.

You felt a sharp pang in your chest.They look so sure so happy.You, on the other hand, felt nothing but fear and confusion.

Your hands were trembling again. You squeezed the star toy even harder.Heeseung noticed. He leaned slightly closer, voice low so only you could hear.

“You’re doing okay,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”

You didn’t reply. You just kept squeezing the toy.

A few minutes later, a door opened and a nurse stepped out.“[Your Full Name]?”You stood up on unsteady legs. Heeseung rose with you.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked quietly.You hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. You didn’t think you could do this completely alone.The nurse led both of you down a short hallway and into a clean, warmly lit consultation room. A woman in her mid-forties with kind eyes and a gentle smile stood up from behind the desk as you entered.

“Hello,” she said warmly, extending her hand. “I’m Dr. Kim. It’s nice to meet you.”You shook her hand weakly. “Hi I’m [Your Name].”

Dr. Kim’s gaze shifted to Heeseung with the same kind expression. “And you are…?”“Heeseung,” he answered. “I’m here with her.”The doctor nodded understandingly, not pressing for more details. She gestured for both of you to sit down on the chairs in front of her desk.

Once you were seated, Dr. Kim folded her hands on the desk and looked at you with gentle patience.

“So, tell me what brings you here today,” she said softly. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”You clutched the star squishy toy tightly in your lap, staring down at it. Your throat felt tight, and your eyes were already burning with unshed tears.You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds before any words came out.

“I… I took a pregnancy test last week,” you whispered. “It was positive. I’m… I think I want to terminate it.”

Dr. Kim nodded calmly, her expression full of understanding and zero judgment.“I see,” she said gently. “Thank you for trusting me with that. We can talk about all your options today. First, let me ask how have you been feeling physically? Any symptoms?”

You took a shaky breath and started listing them the constant nausea, vomiting, fatigue, dizziness, tender breasts. Dr. Kim listened carefully, occasionally nodding and writing notes.

Heeseung sat silently beside you the entire time, a quiet but steady presence.Dr. Kim’s voice was calm and professional, yet warm in a way that felt intentionally soothing. She leaned forward slightly on her desk, folding her hands as she looked at you with gentle eyes.

“Since you mentioned your symptoms and the positive test, I’d like to perform a quick ultrasound today. This is just to confirm the pregnancy, see how far along you are, and check for a heartbeat. It’s completely external no discomfort. We’ll use this wand on your lower abdomen. Would that be alright with you?”

You nodded slowly, your throat too tight to speak properly. Heeseung stayed quiet beside you, but you felt him shift slightly closer in his chair.

Dr. Kim led you behind a pale blue privacy curtain to the exam bed. The paper sheet crinkled loudly under you as you lay down. She asked you to lift your shirt just below your ribs. The gel she squeezed onto your skin was shockingly cold, making you flinch.“Sorry about that,” she said with a small smile. “It’ll warm up soon.”

She placed the ultrasound wand on your lower belly and began moving it slowly, pressing gently. The screen beside the bed flickered to life with gray, blurry images. Dr. Kim adjusted the angle a few times, her eyes focused.You stared at the monitor, barely breathing.After a few moments of silence, Dr. Kim’s expression softened.“Here we are,” she said gently. “This is the gestational sac and right in the center do you see that little flicker?”

She pointed to a tiny, rhythmic pulsing on the screen.

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat.”The moment you saw it that small, steady flicker of life something inside your chest cracked wide open. Your vision blurred instantly as hot tears flooded your eyes. A choked sob escaped your throat before you could stop it. The tears spilled over, running down the sides of your face and into your hair.

“I can’t do this” you whispered, voice trembling. Then louder, more broken, “I can’t do this I can’t”

Dr. Kim immediately lifted the wand and set it aside. The screen went dark.Heeseung was already moving. He stood up so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. In one smooth motion, he was at your side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up into a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably as your hands clutched the front of his hoodie.

“Hey shh, it’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, his voice thick. One of his hands rubbed slow, steady circles on your back while the other cradled the back of your head. “Breathe. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You shook your head against him, crying harder.

“I want the baby ” you sobbed, the words spilling out between shaky breaths. “I thought I could do it but I can’t… I can’t get rid of it. That’s my baby. I can’t do this to my baby”

Heeseung held you even tighter. You felt his body tremble slightly, and when you pulled back just enough to look at him, you saw tears streaming silently down his own cheeks. His eyes were red, his jaw tight, but he didn’t try to hide it.“You don’t have to force yourself to do this,” he whispered, voice cracking. He gently wiped some of your tears away with his thumb. “Not to yourself and not to the baby. I’m here. I’m right here, okay? You’re not doing this alone.”

Fresh sobs wracked your body. Heeseung rested his forehead against yours, his own tears falling onto your shirt as he continued speaking, soft and raw.

“We will have this baby,” he said, the words heavy with emotion. “I will do everything and anything for you and the baby. I promise. Whatever you need I’ll be there. Every appointment, every late night, every single thing. You’re not alone anymore. I’ve got you both of you.”

You cried into his shoulder, overwhelmed by fear, guilt, relief, and a thousand other emotions you couldn’t name. Heeseung held you through all of it, rocking you gently, his arms strong and steady around you even as his own tears continued to fall.Dr. Kim stayed respectfully quiet for a long moment, giving you both space. When your crying finally quieted into soft sniffles, she spoke gently.

“There’s no rush to decide anything today. If you’d like to continue with the pregnancy, we can start discussing prenatal care, vitamins, and scheduling your next scans. You can take all the time you need.”

You stayed pressed against Heeseung’s chest, exhausted but no longer feeling completely alone.

For the first time since you saw those two pink lines, the future felt a little less terrifying.Dr. Kim gave you both a moment to collect yourselves after your breakdown. She handed you a tissue box and waited patiently until your sobs quieted into soft sniffles. Heeseung never let go of you again one arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, his thumb gently brushing your arm in soothing strokes. When you finally calmed down enough to sit up properly, Dr. Kim spoke in a gentle, professional tone. “Since you’ve decided to continue with the pregnancy, let me walk you through what comes next.”

She turned the monitor slightly so both of you could see it better and pointed at the image again.“You’re approximately six weeks along. Everything looks good so far the heartbeat is strong. We’ll schedule a more detailed scan around 8 to 10 weeks to check development. For now, I’m going to prescribe prenatal vitamins. You need to start taking them daily they’re very important for the baby’s neural development.”

She slid a prescription paper across the desk.

“Folic acid is especially crucial in the first trimester. I’ll also recommend a gentle prenatal multivitamin. Try to eat small, frequent meals if the nausea is bad. Ginger tea, crackers, and hydration will help. Avoid raw fish, unpasteurized dairy, and limit caffeine.”Dr. Kim looked at both of you warmly.“I know this is a big adjustment. If you experience severe vomiting, dizziness, or bleeding, come back immediately or go to the ER. I’d like to see you again in two weeks for a follow up. Do you have any questions?”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed. Heeseung, however, spoke up for the first time since your emotional outburst.“What should she avoid? Like food, activities, anything?” His voice was steady but serious.Dr. Kim answered patiently, explaining everything in detail while Heeseung listened carefully, nodding and even pulling out his phone to take notes. You watched him quietly, still surprised by how seriously he was taking all of this.

Before you left, Dr. Kim printed out a small ultrasound picture and handed it to you with a kind smile.

“Here’s your baby’s first picture. Congratulations.”

You took the small black and white image with trembling fingers. The tiny bean shaped spot with that flickering heartbeat was now printed in your hand. You stared at it, throat tight with emotion.

Heeseung helped you stand up. His hand stayed gently on your lower back as you both thanked Dr. Kim and left the room.

The car ride home was quiet. You clutched the ultrasound picture tightly in your lap, staring down at it the entire time. Heeseung drove carefully, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally flexing like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. Now that you had decided to keep the baby, the reality of the situation began sinking in for both of you.

Heeseung was going to be a permanent part of your life forever. No more avoiding him in the hallway. No more pretending that night never happened. This baby would tie the two of you together whether you liked it or not. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His jaw was tense, eyes focused on the road, but there was something softer in his expression something you had never seen before.

What you didn’t know was how deeply this was already affecting him.Heeseung’s heart felt like it was going to burst. From the moment he saw that tiny heartbeat on the screen, something inside him had shifted irreversibly. This baby was his baby it already meant more to him than he could put into words. Despite all the pressure from his father, despite his complicated life and uncertain future in basketball, the thought of this child filled him with a fierce, protective kind of love he had never experienced before.

He already loved this baby.More than he imagined was possible.The car finally pulled into the apartment building parking lot. Heeseung turned off the engine but didn’t move to get out. The silence stretched for a few more seconds.Then he spoke, voice low and serious.“We need to sit down and talk when we get back.”You looked at him, still clutching the ultrasound picture. Your voice came out small.“…Okay.”

Heeseung nodded once, then got out of the car and walked around to open your door. He stayed close as you both walked up to your floor, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you.For the first time, the two of you were about to have a real conversation.And the beginning of whatever this new future was going to look like.“Let’s talk at your place,” he said softly. “If that’s okay with you.”

You nodded. Your legs felt heavy as you both walked up to your apartment. The ultrasound picture was still clutched tightly in your hand. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and sat down on the couch, exhausted. Heeseung closed the door gently behind him and sat on the armchair directly across from you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.For a few seconds, the silence was thick.

Then, without any warning or buildup, Heeseung looked you straight in the eyes and said “Marry me.”

You stared at him, completely frozen. The words didn’t register at first. When they finally did, a shocked, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.

“…What?” You let out another nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Heeseung, are you serious right now?”He didn’t smile. His expression remained dead serious, almost solemn. “I’m serious,” he repeated. “Marry me.”

You blinked rapidly, still trying to process what he had just said. Your heart was racing, confusion and shock swirling inside your chest. “Why would you want to marry me?” you asked, voice rising with disbelief. “Heeseung we don’t even like each other. We’ve spent the last few months hating each other. You used to call me Miss Morals and enjoy annoying the hell out of me. Why are you saying this?”

Heeseung didn’t look away. His gaze stayed steady on yours.“Because you’re carrying my child,” he answered plainly. “This baby is mine too. I don’t want to be a part time dad. I want to be there every single day. So marry me.”You let out a shaky breath and shook your head, tears already pricking at your eyes again.

“That isn’t how it works, Heeseung,” you said, voice cracking. “Marriage isn’t something you do just because there’s a baby. It requires trust and love and actually knowing the other person. We don’t have any of that. We don’t even know each other. Not really. All we’ve ever done is argue and avoid one another.”

Something painful flashed across Heeseung’s face a deep, raw hurt that made his eyes darken and his jaw tighten. He looked away for a second, swallowing hard, before forcing himself to meet your eyes again.

“We can make it work if we try,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “People build marriages on less. We can learn to get along. For the baby’s sake.”You felt your chest tighten. The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.“What if I haven’t met my person yet?” you whispered, voice trembling. “What if I meet the person I’m actually meant to be with while we’re married? What if you do? I don’t want to be bound to you, Heeseung. Not like this. Not when we started all of this hating each other.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw it again that same flash of hurt, deeper this time. Heeseung’s shoulders dropped slightly. He looked genuinely wounded, like your rejection had cut him far more than you expected.He stayed silent for a long moment, staring at the floor. Then he let out a slow, tired breath.“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “I understand.”

You frowned, confused by the clear pain on his face. You didn’t understand why he looked so hurt. You two had spent months being enemies. He used to thrive on annoying you. So why did your refusal to marry him seem to affect him this badly?Heeseung stood up slowly, running a hand through his hair.“I should go,” he muttered. “You need rest.”He paused at the door for a second, back facing you.

“I’m still going to be here,” he added without turning around. “For the baby. Whether we get married or not I’m not going anywhere.”Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.You stayed seated on the couch, ultrasound picture still in your lap, feeling more lost and confused than ever before.The silence after Heeseung left the room didn’t last long. Barely ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on your door again. When you opened it, he was standing there, looking exhausted but determined.

“Can I come back in?” he asked quietly.You nodded and stepped aside.Heeseung walked in and sat on the same armchair as before. You returned to the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest. The ultrasound picture was still lying on the coffee table between you two.Heeseung rubbed his face with both hands before speaking.“Look even if we’re not getting married right now,” he said slowly, “we need to at least pretend to date, right? For the baby. So people don’t ask too many questions. So it doesn’t look like some random hookup.”

You thought about it for a moment, then gave a small, tired nod.“Yeah that makes sense.”Heeseung looked relieved. “Okay good.”He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “And about money I’m going to take care of all the expenses. Doctor visits, vitamins, food, whatever you need yours too you don’t have to worry about that.”You immediately frowned and sat up straighter.“I can take care of myself, Heeseung. I’ve been doing it this whole time.”

“I know you can,” he said gently but firmly. “But you’re carrying my child. Let me do this please I want to.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the exhaustion in your body and the look in his eyes made you close it. You eventually gave a small, reluctant nod.“…Fine.”Heeseung looked a little more relaxed after that. Then you asked the question that had been weighing on you.

“Are we going to tell everyone that I’m pregnant?”

Heeseung shook his head slowly.“It’s totally up to you,” he said. “You decide who you want to tell and when. I won’t say anything to anyone unless you’re okay with it.”You thought about it for a while, fingers tracing the edge of the ultrasound picture.“Soobin and Yunjin,” you said quietly. “I want to tell them. They’ve been really worried about me. And you can tell your close friends. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay and your coach, I suppose. They’ll probably notice eventually anyway.”

Heeseung nodded. “That sounds fair.”You hesitated, then continued.“What about our parents? We should let them know, right?”Heeseung’s expression changed slightly. He looked more tense.“Are your parents going to be okay with this?” he asked carefully.You gave a small, tired smile.“Yeah I think so. My mom and dad have always supported me no matter what. They might be shocked at first, but once they hear they’re getting a grandbaby they’ll probably be over the moon. They’ve always wanted grandchildren.”

Heeseung smiled faintly at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. When you looked at him expectantly, he let out a long breath and leaned back in the chair.

“I don’t know how mine will react,” he admitted, voice quieter. “My dad he’s complicated. If he finds out I got someone pregnant while I’m still trying to make it to the NBA” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

You watched him carefully. For the first time, you saw the weight he was carrying the pressure, the expectations, the fear of disappointing his family.

The conversation settled into a heavy but honest silence. So many things were still uncertain. Your future, your relationship (or lack of one), how you were going to navigate this together.But at least now, you were talking. After the heavy conversation, Heeseung stood up slowly, running a hand through his hair. The air in your apartment felt thick with everything that had just been said and everything that still remained unsaid.

He looked at you for a long moment, eyes soft but tired.“I should go,” he said quietly. “You need to rest. It’s been a really long day.”You nodded, too drained to argue. Heeseung walked toward the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he said, glancing back at you. His voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “Eat something light if you can drink water text me if the nausea gets bad or if you need anything. I’m right next door.”

You gave him a small, tired nod. “Yeah I will.”He lingered for another second, like he wanted to say more, but eventually just offered a faint smile and left, closing the door softly behind him.The moment the lock clicked, the silence in your apartment felt suffocating.You were alone.You curled up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them tightly. The ultrasound picture was still on the coffee table, staring back at you. You reached out and picked it up, tracing the tiny bean-shaped spot with your fingertip.

Tears blurred your vision again.Now came the hardest part figuring out how to tell the people you loved.

Your mind immediately went to your parents. Strangely, that felt almost easy.Your mom and dad had always been incredibly supportive. They had raised you to be independent, but they’d also made it clear that no matter what happened in life mistakes, heartbreaks, unexpected turns they would stand by you. You could already imagine your mom’s initial shock turning into tears of joy once she processed that she was going to be a grandmother.

Your dad would probably go quiet at first, then start asking a million practical questions while secretly being over the moon.Telling them felt scary, but safe. You knew they would love this baby. They would support you no matter what path you chose.But Yunjin and Soobin?That felt terrifying.They were your best friends. They had watched you complain about Heeseung for months. They knew how much you couldn’t stand him. They had seen you avoid him like the plague. How were you supposed to tell them that you had gotten drunk at a party, slept with the neighbor you hated, and were now keeping his baby?

Yunjin would probably scream then cry then demand to know every single detail while spiraling with worry. Soobin he would be quiet at first, shocked, but then his concern would kick in. He would worry about your health, your future, your capstone, your dreams. You hated the idea of disappointing them or making them feel like they had failed to notice how much you were struggling.You buried your face in your knees, letting out a shaky breath.

How do you even start that conversation?Hey guys, remember how I disappeared at Sunghoon’s party? Yeah I slept with Heeseung. And now I’m pregnant.

The thought alone made you want to crawl under the blankets and never come out.You placed a protective hand over your stomach, still flat but no longer feeling empty.

This baby was real now. You had chosen to keep it. And that choice was going to change everything your friendship with Yunjin and Soobin, your relationship (or lack of one) with Heeseung, your entire future.

You stayed curled up on the couch for a long time, ultrasound picture still in your other hand, heart heavy with fear and quiet determination.

Telling your parents felt like something you could survive.Telling your best friends felt like walking into an emotional battlefield.But you knew you couldn’t keep this secret forever. Not from the people who loved you most.

The next morning, you woke up to soft, hesitant knocks on your door.Your eyes fluttered open, still heavy from crying and restless sleep. The ultrasound picture was lying on your pillow beside you you must have fallen asleep clutching it. Your body felt sore, your eyes puffy, and your hair was a complete mess. The nausea was already simmering in your stomach, a cruel reminder that nothing about this was a dream.

The knocking came again gentle, almost careful.You dragged yourself out of bed, wrapped a loose cardigan over your oversized sleep shirt, and padded to the door. When you opened it, Heeseung was standing there.

He looked freshly showered, wearing a simple black hoodie and sweatpants, hair still slightly damp. In his hands was a paper bag and two cups of what smelled like warm tea.The moment he saw you messy hair, swollen eyes, tired face you suddenly became painfully self conscious. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to smooth your hair with one hand, cheeks heating up.Heeseung’s expression softened.

“I got you breakfast,” he said quietly, lifting the bag a little. “Something light. Ginger tea and plain rice porridge with a bit of egg. Thought it might help with the nausea.” He paused, looking almost nervous. “Can I come in and eat with you?”You hesitated for a second, then nodded.“Yeah okay. Just give me a minute to freshen up.”

Heeseung gave you a small nod and stepped inside as you retreated to the bathroom. You quickly brushed your teeth, splashed cold water on your face, tied your hair into a messy bun, and changed into a loose sweater and comfortable pants. When you came back out, Heeseung had already set everything up on your small dining table.Two bowls of warm porridge, the ginger tea, and even a small side of fresh fruit he must have brought along. He was waiting for you, standing awkwardly by the table.

You sat down across from him. The silence was soft, not uncomfortable.You both started eating slowly. The porridge was gentle on your stomach warm, lightly seasoned, and easy to keep down. For the first time in days, you actually managed a few proper spoonfuls without feeling like you’d throw up immediately.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Heeseung spoke.

“I can drop you at university every morning,” he said, eyes on his bowl. “I’ll adjust my practice schedule if I need to. But I can’t always promise I’ll be able to pick you up in the evenings because of team practice and meetings. Still I want to take you in the mornings at least.”You looked up at him, spoon paused halfway to your mouth.“You really don’t have to do that, Heeseung. It’s not necessary.”He shook his head gently but firmly.

“It is necessary,” he replied. “You’re carrying my child. Taking care of you and the life growing inside you that’s my responsibility now. Whether we’re together or not.”His words hung in the air between you. There was no cockiness in his tone, no arrogance, just quiet determination. You stared at him for a long moment, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest, gratitude, confusion and fear.And something warmer you weren’t ready to name yet.You looked back down at your bowl, stirring the porridge slowly.

“…Thank you,” you whispered.Heeseung gave you a small, almost shy smile the softest you had ever seen from him.“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “Just let me help. Okay?”You nodded, too tired and overwhelmed to argue.For the rest of breakfast, you both ate in relatively comfortable silence. Every now and then Heeseung would glance at you, making sure you were actually eating the quiet felt new different not quite friendly yet.But no longer hostile.

You both finished breakfast in a surprisingly comfortable silence. The porridge had settled well in your stomach, and for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like you needed to run to the bathroom immediately after eating. Heeseung cleared the bowls and cleaned up without being asked, moving around your small kitchen like he was trying not to overstep.

When he was done, he turned to you.“I’ll wait for you downstairs in my car,” he said gently. “Take your time getting ready. No rush.”

You nodded, still a little dazed from everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. Heeseung gave you one last look soft, almost careful before heading out and closing the door quietly behind him. As soon as he left, you hurried to get dressed. You chose something comfortable: an oversized hoodie, loose jeans, and sneakers. You brushed your hair into a simple ponytail and splashed some water on your face, trying to look at least a little presentable. Your hands were still shaking slightly as you grabbed your bag and the ultrasound picture (which you tucked safely into your notebook).

When you stepped outside, Heeseung’s car was waiting right in front of the building. You slid into the passenger seat, and he gave you a small smile before pulling out of the parking lot.The drive to university started off quiet, but Heeseung eventually broke the silence.“So…” he started, glancing at you. “I realized I don’t actually know much about you. Other than the fact that you hate loud music and call me an entitled asshole.”

You let out a soft, surprised laugh despite yourself.

Heeseung’s lips curved into a gentle smirk. “What do you like? Favorite food? Favorite artist? Anything.”

You thought for a moment, squeezing the star shaped squishy toy he had given you yesterday, which was still in your hoodie pocket.

“I like quiet places,” you said. “Museums, art galleries, bookstores with big windows. I love matcha, but lately it makes me nauseous so maybe not right now. I like soft music acoustic stuff and I really love curating imagining how paintings and sculptures would look together in a room. It’s calming.”Heeseung listened attentively, nodding.“What about you?” you asked, surprising yourself by actually being curious. “What do you like when you’re not being loud and annoying?”

He chuckled lightly. “Basketball, obviously. But I also like late night drives. And ramyun the kind that makes your nose run. I’m terrible at drawing, but I like watching you sketch when you’re focused. You get this little crease between your eyebrows.”You glanced at him, cheeks warming. The conversation flowed easier than expected. He asked about your favorite movies, what kind of exhibitions you dreamed of curating one day, and what you hated most about university (early morning lectures and group projects with lazy people).

You teased him lightly about his loud parties, and he admitted that he sometimes turned the music up just to see if you’d come banging on his door.By the time he pulled into the university parking lot, you were both surprised at how easily the conversation had come.But the moment you stepped out of his car, reality hit you like a truck.Everyone was staring.

Students walking by slowed down. A group of girls near the entrance openly gawked. Whispers started almost immediately. You were very aware of how it looked you, leaving Heeseung’s car early in the morning, him leaning over to say something to you before you closed the door.

Your face burned with embarrassment. This was a bad idea a very bad idea.You didn’t even thank him. You just lowered your head, pulled your hood up, and walked away quickly, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the ground. You could feel hundreds of eyes on your back as you hurried toward the main building.

Heeseung watched you go, his expression unreadable. He stayed parked for a few extra seconds before driving off to find a spot.

You kept your head down the entire way to your first class, heart racing, already regretting how public this was becoming.The secret was no longer just yours and his.And campus was about to get very interested in the sudden shift between the girl who hated Lee Heeseung and the basketball captain who was now driving her to university.

Your heart was still pounding wildly as you hurried across campus toward the Art History lecture hall. Every few steps, you felt like someone was staring at you. Whispers seemed to follow you like shadows “Was that Heeseung’s car?”, “Did you see them together?”, “I thought she hated him?” making your skin crawl with embarrassment and anxiety.You kept your head down, hood pulled low over your face, walking as fast as your tired legs would allow without breaking into a run.

The ultrasound picture hidden safely inside your notebook felt like it weighed a ton in your bag. By the time you pushed open the door to the lecture hall, your breathing was slightly ragged and a fresh wave of nausea was threatening to rise.Yunjin and Soobin were already in your usual seats middle row, near the window. The moment they saw you approaching, their expressions shifted.Yunjin’s eyes widened dramatically. “Oh my god, what happened to you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or ten ghosts.”

Soobin turned in his seat, his gentle face immediately filling with concern. “Are you okay? You’re really pale.”

You forced a weak, tired smile as you dropped into the empty seat between them, trying your best to look normal even though your hands were still trembling slightly.“I’m fine,” you said, voice quieter than usual. “I was just running late this morning. Rushed here from the other side of campus.”Soobin glanced at his watch, then back at you with a small frown. “We still have like fifteen minutes before class starts though.”

You froze for a split second, heart skipping. Your mind scrambled for an excuse.

“Yeah I know,” you mumbled, quickly pulling out your notebook and flipping through the pages as if you were looking for something important. “I thought I was way later than I actually was. My brain’s been all over the place lately with the capstone deadline.”

Yunjin wasn’t convinced. She leaned closer, studying your face like a detective. “Are you sure that’s it? You’ve been acting weird for weeks now. Disappearing, not replying to texts, looking exhausted every time we see you”

You swallowed hard and kept your eyes fixed on your notes, refusing to meet their worried gazes.“I’m alright, really,” you insisted, forcing another small smile. “Just been super busy and stressed. You know how it is with this project.”Before Yunjin could push further, Soobin spoke up again, his tone soft but clearly concerned.“You didn’t reply to any of our messages yesterday evening or night,” he said. “We were both really worried. Yunjin was about to go knock on your door at midnight.”

Your chest tightened. You had seen the string of worried texts from both of them asking if you were okay, if you needed anything, if something was wrong. You had read them all but couldn’t bring yourself to answer.“I was just really busy,” you repeated, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “Got caught up with work and forgot to check my phone. Sorry for making you guys worry.”

Yunjin opened her mouth again, clearly ready to interrogate you more, but right at that moment, the professor walked into the lecture hall carrying his usual stack of papers and laptop. The room gradually quieted down as he set up at the front.“Alright, everyone. Let’s dive straight into today’s topic the evolution of museum curation practices in the late 19th century…”You let out a silent breath of relief as the lecture began. You kept your head down, pretending to take diligent notes while your mind continued to spiral.

The ultrasound picture hidden in your bag felt like it was burning a hole through your notebook. Heeseung’s words from last night and this morning kept replaying in your head. The weight of your new reality pressed down on you harder with every passing minute.Yunjin kept throwing concerned glances your way throughout the class. Soobin, ever observant, stayed quiet but you could feel his worried eyes on you from time to time.

You knew you couldn’t keep dodging them forever.

But for now, as the professor’s voice filled the room, you clung to this temporary escape, squeezing the star shaped squishy toy hidden in your hoodie pocket for comfort. The lecture hall felt unusually stuffy today. You tried your best to focus on the professor’s voice as he discussed 19th century museum practices, but your mind kept drifting. Your phone vibrated quietly in your lap for the third time. You discreetly glanced down, hiding the screen from Yunjin and Soobin.

Heeseung : Hey, just checking in. How are you feeling right now? Nausea any better?

You stared at the message for a few seconds, then typed back with slightly shaky fingers.

You : I’m okay still a bit nauseous but it’s manageable

Not even a minute later, another message popped up.

Heeseung : Good. What do you feel like eating for dinner tonight? I’ll make something light that won’t upset your stomach. Maybe porridge again? Or soup?

You bit your lip, thinking. The idea of him cooking for you again felt strangely comforting, even if it also made everything feel more complicated.

You : I’m not sure. Anything is fine, really I don’t have much appetite these days

His reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting.

Heeseung : Alright. I’ll go with mild chicken porridge with ginger and some steamed vegetables on the side. Easy to digest. Let me know if you crave anything specific, okay?

You read the message twice. A small, unconscious smile crept onto your lips without you realizing it. The simple thoughtfulness behind his texts remembering what your body could handle right now felt unexpectedly warm. Your thumb hovered over the screen as you considered how to reply.Yunjin, who had been side eyeing you the entire time, suddenly leaned over and whispered loudly enough for Soobin to hear, “Why are you smiling at your phone like that? You look suspiciously happy for someone who’s been acting like a zombie for weeks.”

You startled and quickly locked your screen, shoving the phone into your bag.“It’s nothing,” you muttered, avoiding both of their curious gazes. “Just a funny meme I saw.”Yunjin raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “A meme? Since when do memes make you smile like you just won the lottery?”Soobin chuckled softly beside you but didn’t push. Still, you could feel both of them watching you more closely for the rest of the lecture.

When the final class of the day finally ended, you packed your things slowly, hoping the crowd in the hallway would thin out. But the moment the three of you stepped out of the lecture hall into the bustling corridor, you knew something was wrong.

Eyes were everywhere.Students who usually walked past without a second glance were now openly staring. A group of girls near the notice board pulled out their phones as you passed. Whispers rippled through the hallway like a wave. Someone even pointed discreetly in your direction.

Yunjin noticed immediately and linked her arm with yours. “Okay, what the hell is going on? Did we suddenly become celebrities overnight?”Soobin moved to your other side, creating a small protective barrier. “It does feel like we’re in one of those high school drama scenes where everyone turns to look at the main characters,” he joked lightly, though his voice held clear concern. “Did you do something scandalous without telling us?”

You kept your head down, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You knew exactly why they were staring. The news of you getting out of Heeseung’s car this morning had clearly spread like wildfire across campus.You didn’t respond to their teasing. You just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

Just as you turned the corner toward the main exit, Soobin’s phone buzzed loudly. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his expression changed instantly from amused to shocked.

“Uh… guys?” His voice was unusually serious. “You really need to see this.”He turned the phone toward you and Yunjin.It was a notification from Decelis Confessions the infamous anonymous campus Twitter account that loved stirring drama.The post had already exploded with likes, retweets, and comments in a very short time.

Decelis Confessions : “Plot twist of the semester 😳

Spotted this morning basketball captain Lee Heeseung personally dropping off the girl who has publicly hated him for months. They looked pretty cozy getting out of his car together. What happened to ‘I can’t stand him’? 👀

Picture attached.”

Below the caption was a clear, well timed photo of you stepping out of Heeseung’s car this morning. Your face was visible enough for people to recognize you, even with your hood partially up. The comments were already spiraling out of control

• “Wait… wasn’t she the one who always complained about his parties???”

• “Enemies to lovers speedrun 💀”

• “Heeseung finally got the girl who hated him the most”

• “This is the most interesting thing that’s happened all semester”

Yunjin’s eyes widened dramatically as she read it. “What the actual fuck is this?!”Soobin looked at you with deep concern, his usual calm expression cracking. “Is this real? You came to school with Heeseung today?”You felt your stomach drop violently. The nausea you had managed to keep under control all day came rushing back with full force. Your hands started trembling as you stared at the post, frozen in the middle of the busy hallway while more students walked past, whispering and checking their phones.

The secret was no longer contained itwas public.

And it was spreading faster than you could ever hope to control.The three of you stood frozen in the middle of the busy hallway, Soobin’s phone still held out between you. The Decelis Confessions post glowed brightly on the screen, the photo of you stepping out of Heeseung’s car crystal clear for everyone to see. The comments were flooding in so fast the numbers were climbing by the second.Yunjin’s mouth fell open. “This is you this is literally you this morning.” Soobin looked at you with wide, concerned eyes. “You came with Heeseung today?”

You felt your face burn with embarrassment. The nausea that had been simmering all day surged violently, and you had to swallow hard to keep it down. Your hands were trembling as you clutched the strap of your bag.You forced yourself to speak, voice shaky but trying to sound casual.“He just dropped me because I was running late this morning,” you said quickly, repeating the excuse you had given them earlier. “That’s all. I told you guys I was in a rush.”

Yunjin wasn’t convinced. She crossed her arms, staring at you intensely. “Running late? Since when does Lee Heeseung play taxi for someone he supposedly hates?”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, avoiding their gazes. The whispers around you were getting louder. More people were stopping to look.“I… I have something to tell you guys,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the hallway noise. “But not right now. I’ll tell you when the time is right. I promise.”Yunjin’s eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, refusing to let you dodge this.“No way you can’t drop a bomb like that and then say ‘later.’ What is going on? First you disappear at the party, then you look like death for two weeks, now you’re getting out of Heeseung’s car like it’s normal? Spill it.”

Soobin placed a gentle hand on Yunjin’s arm, trying to calm her down.“Yunjin,” he said softly but firmly, “she said she’ll tell us when she’s ready. We should respect that. She’s clearly going through something.”

Yunjin huffed, clearly frustrated, but she backed off a little. Still, she couldn’t resist one last sarcastic jab.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Don’t tell me you’re secretly dating Heeseung now and you’re pregnant with his child or something.”She laughed at her own ridiculous joke.You, however, froze.

The words hit way too close to home. Your stomach twisted violently. For a split second, you felt like the entire hallway was spinning. You let out an awkward, strained laugh too loud, too forced trying desperately to play it off.“Haha… yeah, right,” you managed, the sound hollow even to your own ears. “As if.”Yunjin raised an eyebrow at your weird reaction but eventually shrugged it off, linking her arm with yours again as the three of you continued walking.

“Whatever but seriously, you better tell us soon. We’re worried about you.”Soobin gave you a small, reassuring smile, though the concern in his eyes didn’t fade. “Whenever you’re ready. No pressure.”You nodded weakly, forcing another smile as you walked with them toward the exit. Inside, your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst. The ultrasound picture hidden in your bag suddenly felt ten times heavier.

Yunjin’s sarcastic joke had been way too accurate.

And you had no idea how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine.The rest of your classes dragged on painfully.You kept your hood pulled up the entire day, even indoors, trying to hide your face as much as possible. It didn’t help. Everywhere you went walking through the corridors, sitting in the library during break, or moving between lecture halls people stared some whispered some openly pointed a few girls even took subtle photos as you passed by.You felt incredibly small.

Like you had shrunk to the size of an ant under a microscope. Every glance made your shoulders curl inward. Every whisper made your stomach twist with nausea and anxiety. You kept your head down, eyes fixed on the floor or your notebook, clutching the star-shaped squishy toy Heeseung had given you like a lifeline. You barely spoke in group discussions. You barely ate during lunch, pushing the food around your plate while Yunjin and Soobin exchanged worried glances.Soobin noticed everything.He stayed close to you the whole day, walking on the side where more people could see him, subtly shielding you from the worst of the stares. During breaks, he tried his best to lighten the mood with his usual gentle humor.

At one point, while you were sitting on a bench between classes, he nudged your shoulder lightly.

“You know,” he said softly, “if everyone’s going to stare anyway, we should give them something worth staring at. Maybe start doing dramatic poses every time someone looks?”You let out a small, tired laugh despite yourself. Soobin smiled, pleased that he managed to get even that out of you.He kept it up throughout the day sharing funny memes, telling light stories about his roommate’s failed cooking attempts, and reminding you of that time the three of you got lost during a group project trip last semester.

His quiet, steady presence helped more than he probably realized.When the final class ended, Soobin didn’t even ask he simply fell into step beside you.

“I’ll drop you back to your apartment,” he said gently. “No arguments.”You were too drained to protest. The walk to your building was quiet, but Soobin made sure to fill the silence with easy conversation, never pushing you to talk about what was really going on.

When you finally reached your door, you turned to him with a small, grateful smile.“Thank you, Soobin. For today and for walking me back.”

He gave you that soft, warm smile of his. “Anytime. You know that, right? If you need to talk I’m here.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know. Thank you.”Soobin waited until you were safely inside before waving goodbye and heading off.The moment the door closed behind you, you leaned against it, letting out a long, exhausted breath. Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Heeseung : Did you reach home safely?

You replied quickly.

You : Yes Soobin dropped me back

There was a slightly longer pause than usual before his next message came in.

Heeseung : Oh good that he was there. I’ll bring dinner over later if you want

You stared at the message. It was polite. Normal, even. But something about the “Oh.” and the brief delay felt off. Like a tiny flicker of something unspoken.You didn’t reply right away. You just slid down to the floor, still wearing your hoodie with the hood up, feeling the weight of the day crash over you.

The stares the whispers the rumors spreading like wildfire.Everything was changing so fast.You pulled out the ultrasound picture again and stared at the tiny flicker of a heartbeat, hand resting gently on your stomach.This little life inside you was already turning your world upside down.And now, even Heeseung’s messages carried a quiet weight you couldn’t quite name.

That evening, Heeseung showed up at your door right on time with dinner.He carried a paper bag filled with carefully prepared containers mild chicken porridge with ginger, steamed vegetables, and some fresh fruit slices. Nothing strong smelling. Nothing that would trigger your nausea. He handed it over with a quiet “Eat slowly,” waited until you took a few spoonfuls in front of him, and then left without lingering too long.

From that point on, the next month slowly settled into a new, surprisingly comfortable rhythm between the two of you.

Heeseung became a constant, quiet presence in your life. He was nothing like the loud, arrogant neighbor you had spent months disliking. He was attentive in ways that quietly surprised you. Some mornings, he would knock softly on your door with breakfast already packed simple things like rice porridge or toast with a little honey that your stomach could handle. Other times, he would show up in the afternoon with electrolyte drinks and medicine when he noticed you hadn’t left your apartment all day. On particularly bad nausea days, he would bring over warm ginger tea without you even asking.

He started staying over more often too. Sometimes he would sleep on your couch after bringing dinner, especially on nights when your anxiety kept you awake or the nausea was relentless. You would wake up to find him already making plain toast in your kitchen or folding the blanket he had used. His loud parties had almost completely disappeared. The music was rare now, and when it did play, it was kept low and ended early.

He was there for the small things too. When your favorite hoodie got a tear, a new one in the exact same oversized style appeared at your door the next day. When you mentioned in passing that the smell of your old shampoo made you sick, he came back with a new, scent free one. On days when the fatigue was overwhelming, he would quietly sit with you on the couch, not pushing you to talk, just keeping you company while you rested. You were now two months pregnant.

Your bump was still small enough to hide under loose hoodies and oversized sweaters, but your body was changing in ways that were impossible to ignore. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The exhaustion made even simple tasks feel heavy. Your emotions swung wildly one moment you felt determined, the next you were crying over nothing. And yet, you still hadn’t told Yunjin, Soobin, or your parents.

Every time you tried to find the right moment, it never felt perfect. The fear of their reactions, their questions, and the overwhelming reality of it all kept stopping you.

This evening, Yunjin was coming over for a group study session. You had already texted Heeseung earlier in the day

You : Yunjin is coming over tonight for study. Can’t do dinner together sorry

His reply had been simple and understanding

Heeseung : No worries lmk if you need anything

At 6:45 PM, there was a knock on your door. You opened it expecting Yunjin.Instead, Heeseung stood there holding a small bag.“I know you said no dinner,” he said softly, “but I brought some light snacks in case you get hungry later. Ginger cookies and cut fruit. Just keep them in the fridge.”You took the bag, feeling that familiar warmth spread through your chest again. “Thank you,” you whispered.Heeseung gave you a small, gentle smile. His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than usual, like he wanted to say more, but he simply nodded.

“I’ll be next door if you need me.”He turned to leave just as Yunjin appeared at the end of the hallway, carrying her bag and laptop. The moment she saw Heeseung leaving your apartment, her eyebrows shot up.She waited until he disappeared into his own door before stepping inside yours and closing the door with a dramatic click.“Okay,” she said immediately, crossing her arms. “What the hell was that?”You froze for a split second at Yunjin’s question, then forced a casual shrug, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“He just had some extra fruits and snacks,” you said, avoiding her sharp gaze. “He was being a good neighbor, that’s all. No big deal.”Yunjin stared at you like you had grown a second head. She let out a loud, disbelieving scoff and crossed her arms tighter. “A good neighbor?” she repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Heeseung? The same guy who used to blast music until 3 a.m. just to piss you off? The one you called an entitled asshole for months? Since when does he randomly bring you snacks like some thoughtful boyfriend? Come on. He’s never been good to you. He’s an asshole, and we both know it.”

Her words hit harder than you expected. You felt a pang of defensiveness rise in your chest, even though part of you knew she was right or at least, she used to be.You rubbed your temple, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Yunjin, can you please calm down? It’s really not that deep. Let’s just get our books out and start studying, okay? I’ll go get the snacks and cut fruits he brought.”You didn’t wait for her reply. You quickly moved toward the kitchen area, grateful for the excuse to escape her intense stare.

Your hands were slightly shaky as you took out the containers Heeseung had brought the ginger cookies, fresh fruit slices, and some light crackers. You arranged them neatly on a plate, trying to buy yourself a few extra seconds to collect your thoughts.

Yunjin muttered something under her breath behind you, but you ignored it and focused on the task.

Two minutes later, you returned to the living room with the plate of snacks, forcing a small smile.“Here, I brought—”Your words died in your throat.

Yunjin was no longer sitting on the couch.She was sitting on the edge of your bed, holding the ultrasound picture in her hands. The same one you had left on your nightstand earlier, half hidden under a notebook. Her eyes were wide, completely fixed on the small black and white image. The room felt like all the air had been sucked out of it. You froze on the spot, the plate trembling slightly in your hands. Your heart slammed against your ribcage so hard you thought it might break.

Yunjin slowly looked up at you, her expression a mixture of shock, confusion, and dawning realization.

“…What the hell is this?” she whispered, voice barely audible.The snacks suddenly felt too heavy. The plate nearly slipped from your fingers as the weight of the moment crashed down on you. You had imagined telling her a thousand times, but never like this. Never with her accidentally finding the proof before you were ready.Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You just stood there, frozen in the middle of your apartment, staring at your best friend holding the ultrasound picture of the baby you were still too scared to fully talk about.

Yunjin’s eyes flicked back down to the image, then back up to your face. Her voice cracked slightly when she spoke again.“Is this… yours?”You stood frozen in the middle of your room, the plate of snacks still trembling in your hands. Yunjin’s eyes were wide, locked onto the ultrasound picture she was holding. The silence stretched for what felt like forever. Finally, you gave a small, shaky nod.Yunjin’s reaction was immediate.

“Oh my god—” She dropped the picture onto the bed and rushed toward you, nearly knocking the plate out of your hands. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, pulling you into a fierce hug. “Oh my god, congratulations!!”You were completely taken back. Your body stiffened at first, but the warmth of her hug and the genuine joy mixed with shock in her voice broke something inside you. Tears welled up in your eyes instantly. You hugged her back, burying your face in her shoulder as both of you started crying.

Yunjin was sobbing softly, rocking you gently. “I can’t believe this You’re pregnant? You’re actually pregnant? Oh my god, I’m so happy for you but I’m also so mad you didn’t tell me sooner!” You cried harder into her shoulder, the relief of finally being seen of not carrying this secret completely alone anymore washing over you in waves. The two of you stood there in the middle of your apartment, hugging and crying for a long minute, the plate of snacks long forgotten on the table.

Eventually, you both pulled back, wiping your tears. Yunjin’s mascara was slightly smudged, and she let out a watery laugh as she cupped your face with both hands.“Tell me everything,” she whispered, still emotional. “When did this happen? How far along are you? Are you okay?” You sat down on the edge of the bed together. You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “We we’re dating,” you said first, the lie slipping out carefully. “Me and Heeseung. It started after Sunghoon’s party.”

Yunjin’s eyes widened, but before she could react fully, you continued, dropping the bigger truth.“And he’s the father.”The words hung in the air.Yunjin froze completely. Her mouth fell open in pure shock. For a few long seconds, she just stared at you, processing.

Then she let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“I I suspected something was going on between you two,” she admitted, still looking stunned. “The way you’ve been acting lately, disappearing, looking exhausted, and then suddenly getting out of his car this morning I thought maybe you were secretly seeing each other. But him being the father? Holy shit.”

She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly, her expression shifting rapidly between shock, worry, and tentative happiness.“Are you okay? Like, actually okay? This is a lot. And with Heeseung of all people” She trailed off, searching your face. “Do you want this baby? Are you keeping it?”You nodded slowly, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks.“I’m keeping it,” you whispered. “I saw the heartbeat and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get rid of it.”Yunjin pulled you into another tight hug, rubbing your back.

“Oh babe I’m here whatever you need. We’ll figure this out together, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

You clung to her, crying quietly into her shoulder again. The relief of finally telling someone, especially your best friend, was overwhelming. But the fear was still there.Because now that Yunjin knew telling Soobin, your parents, and the rest of the world was going to be the next terrifying step.

Yunjin pulled back from the hug but kept her hands on your shoulders, staring at you with wide, teary eyes. She looked like her brain was still trying to catch up with everything you had just told her.“Okay okay, wait,” she said, wiping her own tears. “Let me process this. You’re pregnant. With Heeseung’s baby. And you’re keeping it.”You nodded, sniffling.Yunjin took a deep breath, then launched into full best friend interrogation mode. “Is he taking care of you? Like, actually taking care of you? Or is he being his usual asshole self and making this all about him?” You shook your head slowly.

“He’s been really good, actually,” you said quietly. “He’s been showing up without me asking. He brings me food that doesn’t make me throw up ginger tea, plain porridge, light stuff like that. He checks on me every day. He even skipped basketball practice to take me to the clinic. And when I was crying in the doctor’s room he held me and he cried too.”Yunjin stared at you, completely stunned. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“…Heeseung? Lee Heeseung? The loud party guy who used to piss you off on purpose?” She looked genuinely shocked. “You’re telling me he’s been nice? Supportive?”You nodded again, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. “He wanted to keep the baby,” you added softly. “When I told him I was thinking about terminating, he said he supported whatever I decided. But he also said he would be there for me and the baby no matter what.”Yunjin leaned back against the headboard, looking completely floored.

“I… I don’t even know what to say. That’s not the Heeseung I know. I thought he was going to be a total dick about this.”

You let out a watery laugh. “Me too but he’s been really different.” Yunjin was quiet for a moment, processing everything. Then, suddenly, her entire expression shifted. The shock melted away into pure excitement. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed your hands again. “Oh my god,” she squealed, voice rising. “We need to come up with a nickname for your baby! Right now!” You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden mood shift, but her energy was contagious. A small, genuine laugh escaped you.

“Already?” you asked, wiping your tears. “Yes! We have to!” Yunjin grinned, scooting closer. “Okay, okay what about ummm Bean? Because they’re bean sized right now!”You wrinkled your nose. “Too basic.”

“Peanut?”

“Even more basic.”

Yunjin tapped her chin dramatically. “Hmm what about Sprout? Little Sprout!”You giggled. “That’s kind of cute.” “Or or Bubbles!” You both laughed, the tension in the room slowly easing as you brainstormed together.Then Yunjin gasped. “Wait what about Bambi?”You paused. “Bambi?” you repeated, testing the name. A soft smile spread across your face. “Like the deer?” “Yes! Because they’re tiny and cute and probably really gentle and soft Bambi.” Yunjin bounced a little on the bed. “Eeek, I love it!” You looked down at your stomach, gently placing a hand over it.

“Bambi…” you whispered. The name felt warm. gentle and right.You looked back at Yunjin, tears still in your eyes but now mixed with a small, hopeful smile.

“I think I really like Bambi.”Yunjin squealed again and pulled you into another tight hug.“Bambi it is! Our little Bambi.”For the first time in weeks, you felt something other than fear and anxiety.You felt a spark of hope. And even though everything was still terrifying and complicated at least now you had Yunjin by your side and a little nickname for the tiny life growing inside you.

After the initial shock and tears settled, you and Yunjin barely touched your books.The notebooks and highlighters lay forgotten on the table while Yunjin sat cross legged on your bed, eyes sparkling with excitement. She was fully in planning mode, talking a mile a minute as she gestured wildly with her hands.

“Okay, first things first I’m calling dibs on being the godmother,” she declared dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “I’m going to spoil this baby so much. They’re going to love me more than you.” You let out a soft laugh, wiping the last of your tears. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” she grinned. “And I’m team girl all the way. It’s definitely a girl. I can feel it. She’s going to be so cute, with your eyes and maybe Heeseung’s stupidly good hair. We’re going to dress her in tiny dresses and put little bows in her hair—” You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “I don’t know I feel in my gut that it’s a boy.” Yunjin gasped, looking personally offended. “A boy?! No way this baby is a girl. I refuse to accept anything else.” You both laughed, but it quickly turned into a tiny, playful argument.

“You’re just saying that because you want to buy cute dresses,” you teased. “And you’re saying boy because you want a mini Heeseung running around,” she shot back, poking your arm. The lighthearted bickering felt normal, even. For a few minutes, the heavy weight of your secret lifted, replaced by giggles and Yunjin’s dramatic declarations. Eventually, she leaned back against the headboard, looking thoughtful. “I’m going to be in charge of the baby shower,” she announced. “And the gender reveal. And the nursery theme. All of it. You don’t even have to lift a finger.”

You smiled softly, but then your expression turned serious. “Yunjin nobody can know yet,” you said quietly. “Not Soobin, not my parents, not anyone. Not about the pregnancy and not about me and Heeseung att least not right now.” Yunjin nodded, understanding immediately. “Of course. I won’t say a word.” You continued, “Maybe in a month or two, we’ll start publicly ‘flaunting’ the relationship to make it look real but right now we need to keep things quiet.” “Got it,” she said, squeezing your hand. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Yunjin stayed the night, just like old times. You both changed into pajamas, turned on a comfort movie in the background, and talked for hours about baby names, nursery ideas, how you were feeling, and how Heeseung had been acting. She listened without judgment, only offering support and the occasional teasing remark. Later that night, while Yunjin was brushing her teeth in the bathroom, you picked up your phone and sent Heeseung a message.

You : Yunjin found out about the pregnancy tonight. She kind of discovered the ultrasound picture on her own. She’s staying over right now. We also came up with a nickname for the baby Bambi >.<

You stared at the message for a moment before sending it. A few minutes later, Heeseung replied.

Heeseung : Bambi? I like it

Heeseung : How did she take it? Are you okay?

You smiled faintly at his concern.

You : She took it surprisingly well she’s excited cried a lot. Declared herself godmother already and yes I’m okay just tired

Heeseung : Good tell her I said hi and get some rest. I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow morning

You put your phone down and looked over at Yunjin, who was now sprawled on the other side of your bed, already half asleep. For the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel completely alone in this. You still had a long way to go telling Soobin, telling your parents, figuring out how to navigate this fake relationship with Heeseung, and actually becoming a mother.

But tonight, with your best friend beside you and a tiny nickname for your baby, things felt just a little bit lighter.

The next morning, you and Yunjin were still half asleep when there was a soft knock on your door.

Yunjin groaned dramatically from her side of the bed, burying her face deeper into the pillow. “If that’s Heeseung, tell him I’m interrogating him before I let him leave.” You smiled tiredly and dragged yourself out of bed, still in your oversized sleep shirt. When you opened the door, Heeseung was standing there holding two large paper bags and a tray with drinks.

“Morning,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “I brought breakfast for both of you. Figured Yunjin might be hungry too.”

He stepped inside after you let him in. The smell of warm food, mild porridge, fresh fruit, and ginger tea filled the apartment without being overwhelming. Yunjin sat up in bed, hair messy, eyes narrowing the second she saw him. “Oh, perfect timing,” she said, suddenly wide awake. She crossed her arms like a judge about to deliver a verdict. “Sit down, Lee Heeseung. I have questions.” Heeseung didn’t even look surprised. He set the bags on the small table and pulled up a chair, calm and composed. “Ask away,” he said simply. Yunjin didn’t waste a second.

“Are you actually taking care of her or are you just playing nice because she’s pregnant?” “I’m taking care of her,” he answered steadily. “Every day. I bring food she can keep down, I check on her nausea, I make sure she’s resting. I was with her at the clinic yesterday.”

Yunjin narrowed her eyes. “And you’re not being an asshole to her behind closed doors?” Heeseung shook his head. “No I'm not. I know how I used to act but things are different now.” She fired off more questions, one after another.

He answered every single one patiently about how he was adjusting his practice schedule, how he was handling the pregnancy emotionally, whether he was pressuring you about anything. He never got defensive. He just answered honestly and quietly.

After nearly ten minutes of intense questioning, Yunjin finally leaned back, looking slightly impressed.

“…Okay. You’re not as much of an asshole as I thought,” she muttered. Heeseung gave a small, tired smile. “High praise.”

Before he left, he turned to you. His expression softened as he stepped closer. He gently cupped the side of your face and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be telling my coach and close friends about us and Bambi today,” he murmured against your skin. “Just so you know.”

Your heart melted into a puddle at the gentle gesture. The warmth of his lips on your forehead sent a flutter through your chest. This wasn’t the first time he had done this.

You remembered the night a week ago when the anxiety had hit you particularly hard. You had been crying uncontrollably, overwhelmed by fear and hormones. Heeseung had shown up without being asked, held you close on the couch, rubbed your back, and kissed your forehead repeatedly while whispering that everything would be okay until you finally fell asleep in his arms. The memory made your cheeks warm. Heeseung pulled back, gave you one last soft look, and quietly left the apartment.

The second the door closed, Yunjin let out a high pitched squeal and flopped back onto your bed.

“OH MY GODDDD!” she screamed into a pillow. “That was so sweet! The forehead kiss?! The ‘Bambi’?! I’m actually going to throw up from how cute that was. Heeseung?? Doing all of this?? I’m in shock.” You sat down on the edge of the bed, still feeling the ghost of his kiss on your forehead. Your heart was doing strange, fluttery things you weren’t ready to examine too closely.

Yunjin sat up again, grinning widely. “Okay, I take back half the things I said about him. He might actually be good for you and for Bambi.” You didn’t reply. You just smiled softly, fingers brushing over the spot he had kissed. For the first time, the future didn’t feel quite as terrifying. Even if everything was still complicated, Heeseung was proving, day by day, that he wasn’t going to run away from this and neither were you.

ꪆ୧ heeseung’s pov ─── ドラマ.

The day you decided to keep the baby, Heeseung felt something he had never experienced before.

It wasn’t just happiness. It was bigger than that overwhelming, almost frightening in its intensity. When you broke down in the doctor’s room and sobbed that you couldn’t go through with the termination, that you wanted to keep the baby, something inside him cracked open and flooded with warmth. He was over the moon. That same evening, after you had both returned to your apartment and the dust had settled a little, the words had slipped out of him before he could stop them.

“Marry me.”He had meant it. In that moment, with the image of that tiny heartbeat still fresh in his mind, he wanted nothing more than to do this properly to stand by you, to give the baby a real family, to prove he could be more than the guy you used to hate.

But you had laughed at first, then looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. You told him marriage wasn’t something you did just because of a baby. You said it needed trust, love, and knowing each other things you didn’t have.The rejection stung more than he wanted to admit. It hurt.

Not because he was arrogant enough to think you’d say yes immediately, but because for a brief moment, he had let himself imagine a future where you chose him too. Where this wasn’t just about responsibility, but something real.Still, he respected your decision. He couldn’t force you to love him. He couldn’t force you to marry him. He wouldn’t do that to you, and he refused to do that to himself either. That night, after he left your apartment, Heeseung couldn’t sleep. He sat on his couch in the dark for hours, staring at the wall that separated his place from yours. Then he opened his laptop and started researching.

He read everything. Early pregnancy symptoms morning sickness management prenatal vitamins. What foods to avoid. How the baby developed week by week emotional changes postpartum care. He spent hours going down rabbit holes articles, medical websites, forums where parents shared their experiences. When the sun started to rise, he moved on to parenting books. He ordered nearly twenty of them in one go everything from What to Expect When You’re Expecting to guides on co parenting, single parenting, and building healthy relationships after unexpected pregnancies. He even bought books on newborn care, baby sleep schedules, and how to support a partner through pregnancy.

By the time he finally closed his laptop, the sky was bright. He leaned back on the couch, rubbing his tired eyes. His mind was racing with information, but beneath all the facts and statistics was one clear, undeniable feeling he already loved this baby. More than he thought was possible in such a short time.

Even if you never loved him back, even if you never wanted to marry him, even if this ended up being the most complicated co-parenting situation in the world he was going to be there.

He was going to be a good father.

He refused to be anything less.

Heeseung glanced at the wall again, wondering if you were awake yet. He thought about texting you, but decided against it. You needed rest. Instead, he whispered to the empty room, voice rough from lack of sleep “I’ve got you both.” And for the first time in a long time, despite the pressure from his father, despite the uncertainty of his basketball career, despite the complicated feelings he had for you, Heeseung felt a quiet sense of purpose settle over him. This baby was going to change everything and he was ready.

Ever since the day you decided to keep the baby, Heeseung had been living in a state of quiet, overwhelming happiness. It wasn’t the loud, flashy kind of joy he was used to winning games, hearing the crowd cheer his name, or the temporary high from parties. This was deeper steadier. It settled in his chest like a warm light that never quite dimmed, even on his hardest days. He had no idea where he was finding the time, but somehow he was doing everything.

He woke up earlier than usual now, going for runs before practice, then pushing himself twice as hard during training sessions. His shots were cleaner, his focus sharper, his stamina noticeably better. Coach had even pulled him aside last week and said, “Whatever fire you’ve got under you lately keep it going.” Heeseung just smiled and kept working.

In the evenings, after practice, he studied harder than he ever had. He reviewed game footage, worked on assignments, and still found time to cook for you.

Simple, gentle meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach ginger porridge, steamed fish with mild seasoning, fresh fruit, warm soups. He enjoyed it. The rhythm of chopping vegetables, stirring pots, plating everything carefully it grounded him. But what made him happiest wasn’t just the baby it was you. You were slowly opening up to him.

What used to be nothing but sharp arguments and cold avoidance had turned into real conversations. Some nights he would cook in your kitchen while you sat on the counter or at the small table, watching him. You’d talk about your capstone project, about the art exhibitions you dreamed of curating one day.

Sometimes you’d ask him about basketball, about his dreams of going pro. He would catch himself smiling for no reason while stirring the pot, just because you were there, talking to him like he wasn’t the guy you used to hate. He often found himself thinking about you even when he wasn’t trying to.Did she eat today?

Is the nausea better this morning?Did she remember to take her vitamins?What is she doing right now?

These thoughts would sneak up on him during practice, during lectures, even late at night.

And instead of feeling annoyed by how much space you took up in his mind, he felt warm and content.

His friends and coach had started noticing the change too. During one practice, Jake had jogged up to him during a water break, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Dude, you’ve been weirdly chill lately,” Jake said, grinning. “No more wild parties. You barely hang out with us after practice anymore. What’s going on? You got a secret girlfriend or something?” Heeseung just shrugged with a small smile. “Just focused.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Focused? You look like you’re glowing, man. It’s creepy.” Even Coach had commented once, “Lee, you’ve been showing up with better energy lately. Whatever you’re doing outside of here keep doing it.” Heeseung didn’t tell them the truth yet. Not fully. He had quietly told his closest friends and coach that he was seeing someone seriously and that things were complicated, but good. He left out the pregnancy part for now. That was something you both needed to navigate together first.

His partying had almost completely stopped. The loud nights, the random girls, the chaos it all felt pointless now. He preferred quiet evenings cooking for you, or sitting on your couch while you rested your head on his shoulder, too tired to talk but not wanting to be alone. He was happier than he had ever been.

Even on days when the pressure from his father weighed on him, even when he worried about the future and how he was going to balance basketball, fatherhood, and whatever this was with you he was still happy.

Because for the first time in his life, Heeseung felt like he had something that truly mattered. Something worth working hard for. Something worth becoming better for.And that something was you and the tiny life growing inside you. Heeseung had no real reason to be near the Arts Building that afternoon. Practice had ended early, and he told himself he was just going for a walk to clear his head. When Sunghoon asked where he was headed, Heeseung casually mentioned something about needing to ask Sunghoon about a shared assignment. It was a weak excuse, but Sunghoon didn’t question it.

Deep down, Heeseung knew the truth. He wanted to see you. He didn’t fully understand why. Maybe it was the way you had started smiling at him more often when he brought you dinner. Maybe it was the quiet nights where you let him stay over on your couch. Or maybe it was the tiny life growing inside you that made him feel inexplicably drawn to you. Whatever it was, he found himself walking toward the Arts Building, hands in his pockets, pretending it was completely normal.

They were halfway there when he spotted you. You were walking out of the main entrance with Yunjin and Soobin, laughing at something Yunjin was saying. The late afternoon sunlight caught your face perfectly your warm brown eyes sparkling with amusement, the natural soft pink flush on your cheeks, the way your hair moved as you tilted your head back in laughter. Heeseung stopped in his tracks. God… were you always this pretty? He couldn’t look away. The carefree smile on your face, the lightness in your step, the way you looked so alive and bright despite everything you were going throughit hit him square in the chest.

For a moment, the entire campus faded into background noise. It was just you. Sunghoon walked a few steps ahead before realizing Heeseung had stopped. He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yo, what are you—” Sunghoon followed Heeseung’s gaze and smirked. “Oh? Staring at someone?” Heeseung blinked, snapping out of it. “What? No.” Sunghoon’s smirk widened. “Sure you were practically frozen. Who is she?” Heeseung quickly looked away and grabbed Sunghoon’s arm, dragging him in the opposite direction. “No one let’s go. I don’t even know why I came this way.”

Sunghoon laughed, letting himself be pulled along but still glancing back curiously. “Alright, whatever you say. But you were definitely staring.” Heeseung didn’t reply. He just kept walking, ears slightly warm.

His heart was still beating faster than usual.

He had no idea when you had gone from being the annoying neighbor he loved to tease to someone whose laugh made him stop dead in his tracks like an idiot. But one thing was becoming clearer every single day he was falling for you and he had no idea what to do with that.

Heeseung had always been honest with himself about one thing girls had never meant much to him beyond a night of fun. It was never emotional, never deep. To him, it was all about sex, release, and moving on the next day. No strings, no feelings, no complications. That was how he liked it, simple and easy. But you you were different. From the very beginning, even when you were banging on his door calling him an asshole, something about you had gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had. And now, after the pregnancy, after seeing that tiny heartbeat, after holding you while you cried he realized it wasn’t just about the baby.

It was about you. He cared about you. Not because you were carrying his child, but because it was you. The girl who didn’t care about his status, who called him out without hesitation, who had dreams bigger than campus popularity. He loved how different you were from the other girls how real, how stubborn, how unapologetically yourself. It might have sounded cliché as hell, but it was the truth. He was falling for you hard.

That evening, when you texted him that Yunjin had found out about the pregnancy and that the two of you had come up with a nickname for the baby, Heeseung had been in the middle of cooking.

You : Yunjin found out. We came up with a nickname for the baby Bambi

He had stared at the message for a long time, heart suddenly pounding Bambi.The word hit him like fireworks exploding in his chest. He whispered it under his breath, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Bambi”He loved it. He loved it so much it almost scared him. The image of a tiny, gentle little life, his child being called something so soft and precious made something warm and protective bloom inside him. He was starting to fall not just for the idea of being a father, but for the reality of building something with you.

The next morning, when he had dropped off breakfast and kissed your forehead in front of Yunjin, he had felt his cheeks flush with warmth. The way you had looked at him surprised, soft, a little flustered had done something dangerous to his heart. He had to practically run out of your apartment to hide the stupid smile threatening to break across his face.

He loved kissing your forehead. He loved the quiet nights when he held you close until you fell asleep. He loved pulling you into his arms when you cried because of hormones or fear or exhaustion. He loved being the person you leaned on now.

And the scariest part?He was starting to realize he didn’t just want to be there for the baby.He wanted to be there for you.Even if you didn’t feel the same way yet.Even if you had rejected his impulsive marriage proposal.Even if this whole thing was messy and complicated and terrifying.Heeseung leaned back on his couch that night, staring at the ceiling with a small, private smile Bambi.He whispered the name again, letting it settle in his heart like a promise.He was falling in love with you.And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running away from it.

That same day, Heeseung made up his mind.

He was going to tell them.Not everything, not the messy parts, not the fact that you two weren’t actually dating yet but the important truths. That he was seeing you. That you were pregnant. That this baby was his.He arrived at practice with a strange mix of nerves and resolve settled in his chest. For once, his mind wasn’t entirely on basketball. Every drill, every sprint, every shot he took felt secondary to the conversation he knew was coming afterward.

Practice went surprisingly well. His focus was sharp, his movements clean. He pushed himself harder than usual, and it showed. Coach noticed, giving him an approving nod at the end but saying nothing more.

When practice finally ended and most of the team started heading toward the lockers, Heeseung raised his voice.

“Coach guys can you stay back for a minute? I need to talk to you.”The group Coach, Jake, Jay, Beomgyu, and a couple of other close teammates exchanged curious glances but stayed. They gathered near the benches, wiping sweat from their faces, water bottles in hand.

Heeseung stood in front of them, heart pounding harder than it had during any game. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure how to start.

“I… uh, I’ve been seeing someone,” he began. His voice was steady, but his hands were clenched at his sides. “It’s serious. And she’s pregnant.”The silence that followed was deafening.Jake’s water bottle froze halfway to his mouth. Jay’s eyebrows shot up. Beomgyu’s mouth fell open.Coach was the first to speak, voice low and serious. “Pregnant?”Heeseung nodded. “Yeah two months along. It wasn’t planned but we’re keeping the baby.”Beomgyu let out a stunned laugh. “Holy shit, Heeseung. You’re going to be a dad?”

Jake stepped forward, eyes wide. “Wait who is she? Do we know her?”Heeseung hesitated for half a second, then said it.“It’s the girl next door. The one who used to hate me. We had a thing after Sunghoon’s party. And now she’s pregnant with my child.”The reaction was immediate.Jay looked like he was buffering. “You’re telling me you got the one girl who couldn’t stand you pregnant?” Beomgyu grinned, still in disbelief. “This is insane. The girl who used to bang on your door? That girl?”

Heeseung let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah that one.”Coach crossed his arms, studying him carefully. “And you’re sure about this? Keeping the baby?”“I’m sure,” Heeseung said without hesitation. His voice softened. “I saw the heartbeat. It’s real I want this. I’m going to take care of both of them.”The group was quiet for a moment, processing.Then Jake broke into a wide grin and pulled Heeseung into a rough hug. “Damn, man, congratulations. This is wild, butI’m happy for you.”

One by one, the others followed clapping him on the back, offering stunned but genuine congratulations. Even the coach gave him a firm nod and a pat on the shoulder.

“This is going to change things for you, Lee,” Coach said seriously. “But if you’re committed, we’ll work around it. Your priorities are shifting. That’s part of growing up.”Heeseung nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief now that the truth was out with the people who mattered most on the team.As they finally headed toward the lockers, Beomgyu slung an arm around his shoulders.“So does this mean no more parties?” he teased.Heeseung smiled, small but real.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “No more parties.”Because right now, the only thing that mattered was you and Bambi.And for the first time in his life, Heeseung was completely okay with that.

ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ.

Things were starting to get rough.The pregnancy hormones had fully kicked in, and they were merciless.At two months, your body no longer felt like your own. The nausea had eased slightly, but it was replaced by something far more overwhelming an intense, almost constant wave of desire that left you restless and frustrated.

Your emotions swung wildly from one extreme to another. One moment you were crying over a soft song, the next you were irritable for no reason. But the worst part was the arousal.It was relentless.You’d wake up in the middle of the night flushed and aching, thighs pressed together, body throbbing with a need you couldn’t ignore.

During the day, innocent things would set you off the low timbre of Heeseung’s voice when he brought you breakfast, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders when he cooked, even the faint scent of his cologne drifting through the wall between your apartments. Your breasts were tender and hypersensitive, brushing against fabric made you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

You tried to take care of it yourself.Late at night, when Yunjin wasn’t staying over and the apartment was quiet, you’d slip your hand between your legs, desperate for relief. But no matter how much you touched yourself, slow circles, faster strokes, even bringing out the small vibrator you rarely used wasn't enough. The orgasms felt shallow, unsatisfying, leaving you even more wound up than before. Your body craved something deeper, something fuller.

Something only another person could give.And the worst part? That person was right next door.

Heeseung. The same Heeseung who had been nothing but gentle and attentive these past weeks. The one who kissed your forehead, held you when you cried, cooked meals that didn’t make you sick. The one whose quiet care was slowly chipping away at the walls you’d built around yourself.You hated how much you wanted him.

You’d lie in bed at night, hand between your thighs, imagining his hands instead his long fingers, his mouth, the way he had touched you that one reckless night. The memory of him inside you, deep and thick, made you moan softly into your pillow as you tried (and failed) to find release.It was getting harder to hide.Your cheeks would flush randomly during conversations with Yunjin. You’d press your thighs together during lectures when a sudden wave of heat hit you.

You found yourself staring at Heeseung’s hands when he brought you food, wondering how they would feel on your skin again. You felt embarrassed, guilty and horny beyond reason.And you had no idea how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine.

A month had passed since you told your parents.

They had flown in to visit you after you finally gathered the courage to break the news over a video call. The moment you told them you were pregnant and that you were dating Heeseung the reaction was everything you had hoped for but still left you emotional.

Your mom had gasped, then immediately started crying happy tears. Your dad he had gone completely silent for almost ten seconds before his eyes welled up. He shed so many tears that day, pulling you into the tightest hug when they arrived, whispering how proud he was of you and how excited he was to become a grandfather. They both adored Heeseung from the first meeting your dad even clapped him on the back and said, “Take care of my daughter and my grandbaby, son.” The support from them had been overwhelming in the best way.

Now, today was the day. Heeseung’s basketball match is your first public appearance as his (fake) girlfriend in front of everyone.You were three months along. Your belly had started to show a soft, consistent bloat that made your clothes fit differently. You couldn’t hide it completely anymore, but it still looked like normal bloating to most people. Only you, Heeseung, Yunjin, Soobin, and your parents knew the truth.

Heeseung had left early in the morning. As captain, he needed to be with the team for warm ups and strategy meetings. Before he left, he had gently placed his spare jersey in your hands, the one with “LEE 7” printed on the back. “Wear this,” he had said softly, kissing your forehead. “You don’t have to worry about anything today. Just enjoy the game. I’ve got you.” You were nervous as hell. You stood in front of your mirror, adjusting the oversized jersey. It was big on you, falling mid-thigh, but it felt comforting.

You paired it with leggings and a light jacket to hide the slight curve of your belly. Yunjin and Soobin were already waiting for you downstairs.When you finally met them outside, Yunjin squealed at the sight of you in Heeseung’s jersey.“Oh my god, look at you! His girlfriend era is so real,” she teased, linking her arm with yours. Soobin smiled warmly, though his eyes still held that protective worry he’d had ever since you told him the truth two weeks ago. “You look good,” Soobin said gently. “Ready?”You nodded, even though your stomach was doing flips.

The arena was packed when you arrived. The energy was electric cheers, music, the sound of basketballs bouncing during warm ups. The moment you walked in with Yunjin and Soobin, a few heads turned. People whispered. Someone pointed. You kept your head slightly down, heart racing, but Yunjin squeezed your arm reassuringly.

The three of you found seats close to the court, right behind the home team’s bench. As soon as you sat down, the players started coming out for the national anthem. Your eyes immediately found Heeseung.

He looked focused, tall and confident in his uniform. But the second his gaze landed on you wearing his jersey, his expression softened. A small, private smile tugged at his lips. He gave you a subtle nod before turning back to his team.

The game started, and the crowd went wild.

You tried to focus on the match, but your nerves were through the roof. Every time Heeseung made a play, your heart jumped. Every time the crowd cheered his name, you felt a strange mix of pride and anxiety. Yunjin was screaming her lungs out, Soobin was calmly explaining plays to you, but your mind kept drifting.This was real now.You were here as Heeseung’s girlfriend at least in everyone’s eyes.

And you were carrying his baby.During a timeout, Heeseung jogged over to the sidelines.

He looked up at you again, his eyes warm even from a distance. He mouthed “You okay?” and you gave him a small nod and a thumbs up. He smiled that soft, real smile he only seemed to give you these days before jogging back to his team. Yunjin nudged you with her elbow, grinning. “He’s whipped,” she whispered. “Look at him checking on you during the game.”

You didn’t reply. You just squeezed the star shaped squishy toy in your pocket and tried to calm your racing heart.

The game continued, loud and fast paced, but your mind was somewhere else entirely on the tiny life growing inside you, on the boy on the court who was trying so hard to be there for you, and on how complicated and scary and strangely hopeful everything felt right now. The final buzzer sounded, and the entire arena erupted.

Your university team had won by a solid 12 points. The crowd was on their feet, cheering wildly as the players celebrated on the court. Heeseung was right in the middle of it all, smiling wide, laughing with his teammates, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. He looked so happy. So alive. So incredibly cool as he high-fived his teammates and lifted the game ball in victory. You couldn’t stop staring.

Even from the stands, you could see the pure joy on his face. For a moment, all the complications between you two faded, and you just felt proud. Proud of him.

After the celebrations on the court died down a little, Heeseung jogged over to the sidelines where you, Yunjin, and Soobin were waiting. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a warm, sweaty hug right there in front of everyone.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand gently pressing against your lower back. The crowd around you cheered louder at the sight. Cameras flashed. Whispers turned into audible gasps.

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, then leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering peck on your cheek.“You did great,” you whispered, still a little dazed by the public affection. He smiled, that soft, private smile he only seemed to give you these days.

“I’ll be back with the team in a bit we have to do the post game stuff,” he said, voice low so only you could hear. “Go home with Soobin and Yunjin, okay? I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”

You nodded, cheeks burning. “Okay.” He gave your hand one last gentle squeeze before jogging back toward his teammates. You stood there, heart racing, as Yunjin squealed beside you and Soobin gave you a knowing look. The walk back to the apartment with your friends felt surreal. People were still staring, whispering, taking photos. But your mind wasn’t on them.It was on him. Why are you blushing? you thought, pressing your cool hands to your warm cheeks as you walked. It was just a hug. Just a peck on the cheek. It’s all fake anyway.

But your body didn’t seem to care that it was fake.

A familiar heat had pooled low in your belly. Your pussy clenched involuntarily at the memory of his arms around you, his breath against your cheek, the way his jersey had clung to his broad shoulders and back while he played. The pregnancy hormones were ruthless these days. They turned every innocent touch, every look, every small act of care into something filthy in your mind. You pressed your thighs together as you walked, trying to ignore the growing ache between your legs.

Why did everything Heeseung did suddenly feel so hot? The way he had looked at you after the win, the way he had hugged you so publicly, the way he had kissed your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world you were horny.Embarrassingly, desperately horny.And it was getting harder and harder to pretend you weren’t affected by him.

When you finally got back to your apartment, you thanked Soobin and Yunjin for coming with you. Yunjin hugged you tightly before leaving, whispering, “Text me if you need anything, baby mama,” with a wink.

Soobin gave you a gentle, concerned smile and reminded you to rest.The moment the door closed, you leaned against it and let out a shaky breath.

Your hand drifted down to rest on your slightly bloated belly three months. You were three months pregnant with Heeseung’s baby and your body was betraying you in the most inconvenient ways possible.

You closed your eyes, remembering the way Heeseung had looked at you after the game, happy, proud, and focused only on you in a crowded arena.

Your pussy clenched again.

“Fuck,” you whispered to the empty apartment, cheeks burning.This was getting dangerous.You couldn’t fight it anymore. The moment you stepped inside your apartment and locked the door, the ache between your legs became unbearable. Pregnancy hormones had turned your body into something foreign hypersensitive, needy, and constantly throbbing. Your breasts felt heavy and swollen, your nipples tight against the fabric of your bra. Your pussy was slick and aching, clenching around nothing.

You didn’t even make it to the bed properly.

You kicked off your shoes, yanked your pants and panties down in one desperate motion, and fell back onto the mattress. Your shirt was pushed up hastily over your breasts. The cool air hit your heated skin as you cupped your swollen tits, squeezing them roughly. A broken moan slipped from your lips when your fingers brushed your sensitive nipples.

“Fuck…” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

One hand stayed on your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple, while the other slid down your stomach and between your thighs.

You were soaked. Your fingers glided easily over your swollen clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles. The relief was immediate but not enough. You pushed two fingers inside yourself, pumping desperately, imagining thicker, longer fingers his fingers.

Your hips bucked against your hand. Soft, needy whimpers filled the room as you fucked yourself faster, thighs trembling. The pressure built quickly, but every time you got close, it slipped away. You needed more. You needed him. You were so lost in it eyes closed, lips parted, fingers thrusting wetly inside your dripping pussy that you didn’t hear the front door open

Heeseung stepped inside quietly, holding the spare key you had given him weeks ago. He had come to check on you after the game, worried you might be tired or nauseous.The sight that greeted him made him freeze in the doorway. You were sprawled on the bed, shirt rucked up, pants around one ankle, legs spread. Your fingers were buried deep inside your glistening pussy, pumping frantically while your other hand squeezed your swollen breast. Your face was flushed with pleasure, lips parted in soft, desperate moans.

Heeseung’s breath caught. His cock hardened instantly in his sweatpants. For a second, it was painfully awkward. He should have left. He should have announced himself.But then your eyes fluttered open and locked onto him.You didn’t stop.Instead, your voice came out hoarse and pleading.“Heeseung… please.” He stepped closer, eyes dark with lust but still careful. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice rough. “You don’t have to—” “Please,” you whimpered, fingers still moving slowly inside yourself. “I can’t I need you. Please help me.” That was all it took.

Heeseung climbed onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. He gently pulled your hand away, replacing it with his own. Two thick fingers slid into your soaked heat easily, curling perfectly against that spot that made you cry out. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, pumping his fingers steadily. His thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight circles. “Been thinking about me, baby?” You moaned loudly, hips bucking against his hand. He leaned down, sucking one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth while his fingers fucked you deeper, faster. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers thrusting into your dripping pussy filled the room.

Heeseung added a third finger, stretching you open, curling them just right. His mouth moved between your breasts, sucking and licking your swollen nipples until you were shaking.“I’m close—” you gasped, fingers threading through his hair. “Come for me,” he murmured against your skin, thumb pressing harder on your clit. Your orgasm crashed over you hard. You cried out, back arching, walls clenching tightly around his fingers as pleasure tore through you. Heeseung kept pumping his fingers through it, drawing out every wave until you were trembling and oversensitive.

But you still weren’t satisfied. You tugged at his shirt desperately. “More please, Heeseung. I need you inside me.” He didn’t hesitate. He pulled his fingers out, quickly stripping off his clothes. His cock sprang free thick, hard, and leaking at the tip. He positioned himself between your thighs, rubbing the head of his cock along your slick folds before slowly pushing in.

You both moaned as he sank deep inside you. He was gentle but firm, filling you completely in one smooth thrust. Heeseung groaned at how tight and wet you were, forehead dropping to yours.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he breathed, starting to move. He fucked you with deep, steady strokes, hips rolling against yours. One hand cradled your slightly bloated belly protectively while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open for him. The wet slap of skin and your mingled moans filled the room.

Heeseung kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours as he thrust harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke. Your hands roamed his back, nails digging into his skin as another orgasm built fast. “Come again for me,” he whispered against your lips. “Let me feel you.”

You shattered around him with a cry, pussy clenching tightly around his cock. Heeseung groaned, thrusting a few more times before burying himself deep and coming hard inside you, hips jerking as he filled you with hot spurts of cum. He stayed inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily. Then he gently pulled out and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. He kissed your forehead, then your temple, holding you close as you came down from the high.

You lay there afterward, breathing hard, body limp and glowing with the aftershocks of pleasure. Heeseung stayed buried inside you for a long moment, forehead pressed against yours, both of you catching your breath. His hand gently stroked your side, thumb brushing over the slight swell of your belly in a protective, almost reverent way.

Eventually, he pulled out slowly, a soft groan leaving his lips as he did. You winced at the sudden emptiness, but Heeseung was already moving, pulling you into his arms and tucking you against his chest.

He kissed your forehead, then your temple, holding you close as your breathing slowly evened out.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The only sounds in the room were your mingled breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Heeseung’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough. “…You should’ve told me it was getting this bad,” he murmured. “I would’ve helped sooner.” You buried your face in his neck, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal. “I didn’t know how to say it. It’s humiliating. I feel like my body isn’t mine anymore.”

Heeseung tightened his arms around you. “It’s not humiliating. You’re pregnant. Your body is changing because of our baby. If you need me for anything just tell me. I’m right here.” You stayed silent, letting his warmth seep into you. The hormones were still humming under your skin, but the sharp edge of desperation had dulled into a comfortable, sated haze. After a few minutes, Heeseung gently pulled back so he could look at you. “You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You nodded. “Yeah, thank you.”

He smiled that small, genuine smile that made your chest feel strangely tight and kissed your forehead again. “Stay here. I’ll clean you up.” He got up, completely naked and unashamed, and returned moments later with a warm, damp cloth. He wiped you down gently between your legs, then cleaned himself before crawling back into bed and pulling you against his chest once more. You let yourself relax into him, one hand resting on your slightly rounded belly.

For the first time in weeks, the constant ache of need was quiet. But as you lay there in Heeseung’s arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, a new kind of nervousness settled in.

Because the line between “fake” and “real” was starting to blur dangerously fast. He held you close against his chest, one hand stroking soothing circles on your back while the other rested protectively over the small, soft swell of your belly. The room was quiet except for your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the city outside the window. You stayed like that for a while, skin warm and slightly damp, hearts still beating fast. Neither of you felt the need to speak right away. It felt strangely peaceful.

Eventually, Heeseung broke the silence, his voice low and soft against your hair. “I’ve been reading parenting books,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy, comforting patterns along your spine. “A lot of them. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, guides on newborn care, nutrition during pregnancy everything I could find. I wanted to be prepared. For you and the baby.” You tilted your head up to look at him, genuinely surprised. “Really? You’ve been doing that?”

Heeseung nodded, a small, almost shy smile touching his lips. “Yeah. I’ve been learning about the second trimester, what symptoms might get worse or better, how to support you when the nausea is bad, safe exercises, all of it. I don’t want to be clueless. I want to do this right.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. You hadn’t expected him to take it this seriously. Before you could respond, he continued gently, "And if you ever have any needs physical, emotional, anything at all I’ll always be there for you. Whether it’s holding you when you’re anxious, helping with the nausea, or anything else. Just tell me. Only if it’s okay with you, of course.” You hesitated for a second, then whispered, “Will that be okay with you? Because we aren’t really a couple.” Heeseung was quiet for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay with me,” he said simply. “I know we’re not traditional. But I care about you. And I care about our baby. So whatever you need, I’m here with no pressure , no expectations. Just me, showing up for both of you.” The sincerity in his voice made your eyes sting with tears. You buried your face in his neck, nodding against his skin. The conversation flowed easily after that quiet, honest, and surprisingly comfortable. You told him about your fears of balancing university with pregnancy, how scared you were about telling more people, and how overwhelmed you sometimes felt by the changes in your body.

Heeseung listened without interrupting, rubbing your back the whole time. He shared his own worries too the pressure from his father, his fears about balancing basketball and fatherhood, and how he sometimes felt unprepared but determined to try his best.

Eventually, the talking slowed. Heeseung shifted lower on the bed, resting his cheek gently against your bare belly. He looked up at you with soft, questioning eyes. “Can I talk to the baby?” he asked quietly. “If that’s okay with you.” Your throat tightened with emotion. You nodded.

Heeseung smiled faintly and pressed a soft kiss to the small swell of your stomach. Then, in a low, gentle voice, he spoke “Hey, Bambi it’s me your dad. I know things are a little complicated right now, but I want you to know I’m really happy you’re here. I’m going to take care of you and your mom, okay? We’ve got you. Both of us.” You felt tears slip down your cheeks as you watched him. Heeseung stayed there for a while, murmuring soft promises and little stories to your belly, his hand resting protectively over it.

When he finally crawled back up, he pulled you into his arms again, skin to skin, warm and safe. You tucked your face against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. You both fell asleep like that completely naked, wrapped around each other, his hand resting protectively over your stomach where Bambi was growing. For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel quite so terrifying.

The next morning, you woke up slowly, blinking against the soft sunlight filtering through your curtains. Your body felt heavy in that familiar, exhausted way the pregnancy making even sleep feel like it wasn’t quite enough. You reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, expecting warmth, expecting Heeseung’s arm around you like it had been when you fell asleep. But the bed was empty. The sheets where he had lain were cool. He must have left a while ago.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes, and noticed a small yellow post it note stuck to the lamp on your nightstand. You reached for it, heart giving a little flutter as you read his neat handwriting

“Made breakfast for you. It’s in the fridge mild porridge with ginger and some fruit. Please eat it before you go to classes. Had some early work with the team, had to leave. Text me when you wake up. Take care of yourself and Bambi today. - Heeseung”

You stared at the note for a long moment, thumb brushing over his name. A strange mix of emotions washed over you warmth, gratitude, and that familiar flutter of confusion in your chest. He had cooked for you again, even though he had practice. Even though he left early. Even though he didn’t have to. You placed the post-it carefully on the nightstand and got out of bed. Your hand instinctively moved to rest on your slightly bloated belly as you walked to the kitchen. True to his word, there was a container in the fridge with perfectly portioned porridge and fresh-cut fruit on the side. A small bottle of ginger tea sat beside it.

You heated the porridge and sat at your small table, eating slowly. The food was gentle on your stomach, exactly what you needed. As you ate, your mind replayed the events of last night the way Heeseung had held you, the way he had talked to your belly, the quiet honesty between you two.It was getting harder to remember that this was all supposed to be fake.

Your phone buzzed on the table. A message from Heeseung.

Heeseung : Did you wake up? Did you eat?

You smiled faintly and replied.

You : Just woke up eating breakfast now thank you

Heeseung : Good let me know how you’re feeling today. I’ll try to finish early so I can bring dinner

You put your phone down and continued eating, one hand still resting on your belly. The reality of your situation felt heavier every day. You were three months pregnant. You were pretending to date the guy you used to hate. You were slowly letting him into your life in ways you never expected. And yet it didn’t feel as terrifying as it once did. After finishing breakfast, you got ready for classes, loose clothes to hide the small curve of your belly, comfortable shoes, and your usual hoodie. Before leaving, you glanced at the post-it note again, then carefully folded it and tucked it into your bag.

As you locked your apartment door, you couldn’t help but think about how much had changed in such a short time. Heeseung was becoming someone you relied on. And you weren’t sure how you felt about that yet.

Heeseung woke up slowly, warmth surrounding him. You were still asleep in his arms, face tucked against his chest, one hand resting lightly on his stomach. Your breathing was soft and even, your body relaxed against his in a way that made his heart feel too big for his chest. The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over your face. He smiled a small, private, uncontrollably happy smile.

He was so happy.

Waking up like this, with you curled into him, knowing there was a tiny life growing between you it felt like something he didn’t deserve but would fight to keep. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like pressure. It felt like hope. His phone vibrated on the nightstand. Heeseung’s smile faded slightly when he saw the caller ID Dad.

He carefully slipped his arm from under you, moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake you. You stirred a little but settled back into the pillow with a soft sigh. Heeseung watched you for a second longer, heart clenching with affection, before he grabbed his phone and quietly left the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.He answered the call in the living room, voice low.“Hey, Dad.” Instead of a greeting, his father’s sharp voice cut through immediately.

“So it’s true? You have a girlfriend now? And you’re wasting your time on her instead of focusing on the league?” Heeseung’s jaw tightened. He leaned against the kitchen counter, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m serious about her, Dad,” he said, voice steady but firm. “I want to marry her.” A harsh scoff came through the line. “Marry her? You don’t think about getting into the league, about your future, about everything I’ve sacrificed for you but you think about marriage? With some girl who’s probably just using you for your name?”

Heeseung stayed silent for a moment, letting the familiar sting of his father’s words wash over him. He didn’t argue. He knew it was pointless. His dad continued, tone cold and commanding. “I want to meet her and bring her for Thanksgiving. We’ll see what kind of girl managed to distract you this badly.”

Heeseung exhaled slowly. “Sure. I’ll bring her.” The line went dead without another word.

Heeseung lowered the phone, staring at the black screen for a long moment. The happiness he had felt waking up with you in his arms was still there, but now it was shadowed by the familiar weight of his father’s expectations. He walked back to the bedroom quietly and stood in the doorway for a while, watching you sleep. Your hand had moved to rest on your belly in your sleep a small, protective gesture that made his chest ache with tenderness. Heeseung smiled softly despite everything. Thanksgiving was going to be complicated. But for you and Bambi he would face it he always would.

A few days had passed since that emotional night.

Your life had slowly started to find a strange new rhythm. Mornings often began with Heeseung’s quiet knocks or a text asking how you slept. He still brought you breakfast on most days, always something gentle on your stomach. The nausea was still present but no longer as violent. Your belly had grown just a little more noticeable, a soft curve that you hid under oversized hoodies and loose sweaters.

Today was your checkup. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the oversized sweater over your belly.

Three months and a few days. The doctor had said everything looked good at the last visit, but you were still nervous every time. You gently placed a hand over your stomach, feeling the slight firmness there.

Bambi. The nickname made you smile despite the nerves. Your phone buzzed on the counter.

Heeseung : I’m outside ready when you are no rush

You took a deep breath, grabbed your bag, and headed downstairs. Heeseung was waiting by his car, leaning against the door in a casual black hoodie and jeans. The moment he saw you, his expression softened into that small, genuine smile he seemed to reserve only for you lately. “Hey,” he said, opening the passenger door for you. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better than yesterday,” you replied, sliding in. “Still a little nauseous in the mornings, but not as bad.”

Heeseung nodded, closing the door gently before getting into the driver’s seat. The drive to the clinic was quiet but comfortable. He asked about your classes, about whether the fatigue had eased, and told you a light story about Beomgyu messing up a drill during practice. You found yourself smiling more than you expected.

A few days later, you had your regular checkup.

Dr. Kim was as kind and patient as always. She did a quick scan, confirmed that everything was progressing normally, and then smiled warmly at both of you. “Everything looks great. The baby is growing well. At your next appointment, around the four month mark, we should be able to determine the gender if you’d like to know. Would you be interested in finding out?” You glanced at Heeseung. He looked at you with soft eyes, waiting for your decision.

You nodded slowly. “Yes I think I’d like to know.”

Heeseung’s hand gently squeezed yours. Dr. Kim smiled and scheduled the next appointment before sending you off with more prenatal vitamins and advice on managing fatigue. After leaving the clinic, Heeseung turned to you in the car. “There’s a movie showing that looked pretty light, not too intense want to go? Just the two of us.” You agreed. The theatre was dimly lit and not very crowded. You chose seats near the back, a little more private. Heeseung bought snacks you could handle plain popcorn and ginger ale and settled in beside you.

The movie started, but your mind was elsewhere.

The pregnancy hormones had been relentless lately. Your body felt hypersensitive. Every brush of his arm against yours, every time his thigh pressed against yours in the seat, sent heat pooling low in your belly. You tried to focus on the screen, but your eyes kept drifting to him the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hand rested on his thigh, the subtle scent of his cologne. You couldn’t fight it. Halfway through the movie, when the theatre was dark and quiet, you leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Heeseung…” He turned his head slightly. “Yeah?”

Instead of answering with words, you reached over and slowly slid your hand onto his thigh. He tensed, but didn’t stop you. Your fingers moved higher, palming him through his jeans. He was already half hard. His breath hitched. “Baby what are you doing?”

You didn’t answer. You quietly unzipped his jeans, reached inside, and pulled his cock out. He was thick and warm in your hand. You stroked him slowly at first, feeling him harden fully under your touch.

Heeseung’s hand gripped the armrest. “Fuck are you sure?”

You nodded, already sliding down in your seat. You leaned over, taking him into your mouth. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hand gently threading through your hair. You took him deeper, tongue swirling around the head before sliding down his length. He was big you had to go slow, relaxing your throat to take more of him. The salty taste of his precum coated your tongue as you bobbed your head, sucking him with wet, quiet sounds.

Heeseung’s breathing grew heavier. He tried to stay quiet, biting his lip, but soft, low groans escaped him whenever you sucked harder or swirled your tongue just right. His fingers tightened in your hair, not pushing, just holding on. “You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, voice strained. “So fucking good”

You took him as deep as you could, hollowing your cheeks, one hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hips twitched slightly, fighting the urge to thrust. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, getting closer.

When he finally came, it was with a quiet, choked groan. Hot spurts filled your mouth as you swallowed around him, milking him through it. Heeseung’s hand trembled in your hair, breathing ragged. You pulled off slowly, licking your lips as you sat back up. Heeseung looked at you with dark, stunned eyes, chest rising and falling quickly. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans, then pulled you close, kissing your temple. “Fuck… that was…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

You smiled shyly, cheeks warm, heart still racing.

The rest of the movie passed in a haze. Heeseung kept his arm around you, thumb gently stroking your shoulder, occasionally pressing soft kisses to your hair. When the credits rolled, he leaned in and whispered, “Let’s get you home.”

The car ride back to the apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Heeseung’s hand occasionally brushed against yours on the center console, a small, reassuring touch that made your chest feel strangely warm. You were still replaying the movie in your head or at least pretending to while your body hummed with the memory of what you had done in the theatre. When you reached your building, Heeseung parked and walked you up to your door like he always did now. But instead of saying goodnight, he lingered in the hallway.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” You nodded, unlocking the door and letting him inside. The apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the small lamp on the side table. You both took off your shoes and sat down on the couch. Heeseung turned to face you, looking a little tense. He took a slow breath before speaking.

“My family wants to meet you,” he said. “During Thanksgiving. My dad specifically asked me to bring you.” You blinked, processing the words. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. “Oh,” you said quietly. “Are we going to reveal the pregnancy then?”

Heeseung nodded, eyes steady on yours. “Yeah I think it’s time. They deserve to know.” You sat there for a moment, letting the idea settle. A small, nervous smile crossed your face. “I know they’ll be happy,” you said, trying to sound optimistic. “My parents were over the moon when I told them. Yours will probably be excited too, right? A grandbaby and everything”

Heeseung didn’t reply right away. He looked down at his hands, jaw tightening just slightly. You didn’t notice the way his shoulders tensed or the brief flash of worry in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, voice quiet. “They’ll be happy.”But inside, Heeseung knew the truth.His father wouldn’t be happy. Not even close. The man who had spent years pressuring him to be better than his older brother, who had made it clear that basketball and the NBA were the only priorities that man was going to see this as a distraction. A mistake. A threat to everything he had planned for Heeseung’s future.

Heeseung could already imagine the cold disappointment in his father’s voice, the sharp questions, the comparisons to his perfect older brother who had never “messed up” like this.But he didn’t say any of that to you. Instead, he reached over and gently took your hand, squeezing it. “We’ll face it together,” he said softly. “Okay?” You nodded, leaning into his side a little. You still believed his family would be supportive like yours had been. You had no idea about the tension that existed between Heeseung and his father.

Heeseung wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you there for a long moment.For now, he would let you believe everything would be fine.He would carry the worry alone. Because no matter how his parents reacted, one thing was certain he was going to protect you and Bambi no matter what.

The weeks that followed settled into a rhythm you never expected and one you were desperately trying not to get used to. Heeseung was always there. Quietly, steadily, without making a big deal out of it. He’d show up in the mornings with breakfast he’d prepared before practice, simple things like warm ginger porridge or toast with honey that your stomach could actually handle. Some days he’d stay longer than usual, sitting on the edge of your bed while you ate, watching you with that soft look in his eyes that made your chest feel tight. You told yourself it was just the pregnancy making you emotional.

One morning, after a particularly rough night of nausea, you woke up feeling miserable. Heeseung had let himself in with the spare key. Without saying much, he pulled you into the shower with him, washing your hair with gentle fingers while the warm water ran over both of you. The closeness, the steam, the way his body felt against yours , it ignited something fierce. You ended up pressed against the tiled wall, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you slow and deep, water cascading over your joined bodies. He whispered against your neck how beautiful you looked like this, carrying his baby, and you came so hard you saw stars.

Afterward, he dried you off, carried you back to bed, and held you until you fell asleep again. You told yourself it was just hormones. Just physical need nothing more. Another afternoon, you came home from classes exhausted and emotionally drained. Heeseung was already waiting inside, having cooked a light dinner. You barely ate two bites before the tears started. He didn’t ask questions. He just pulled you onto his lap on the couch, kissing you softly at first, then deeper, hungrier. You ended up riding him right there, slow and desperate, his hands cradling your slightly rounded belly the entire time.

He looked up at you like you were the only thing in his world, groaning your name when he came inside you. You hid your face in his shoulder afterward, heart racing for reasons you refused to name. There were quieter moments too. One night, when the anxiety hit you hard, you texted him at 2 a.m. He showed up minutes later, crawling into bed with you fully clothed. He held you close, rubbing your back, kissing your forehead repeatedly until you calmed down.

That night turned heated too you ended up on top of him again, moving slowly in the dark, his hands gentle on your hips as he whispered how strong you were. You came with his name on your lips and tried to convince yourself it didn’t mean anything. Heeseung started leaving little notes everywhere. “Drink water for Bambi.” “You’re doing amazing today.” “Text me when you’re home.” He’d read parenting books late at night and tell you random facts over dinner what week the baby could hear your voice, how to tell if the nausea was improving, safe positions for intimacy during pregnancy.

You’d watch him cook in your kitchen, sleeves rolled up, humming softly under his breath, and feel something dangerously warm bloom in your chest. You told yourself it was just the hormones making you soft. But it was getting harder to lie to yourself. One lazy Sunday afternoon, you were both on the couch watching a movie. Heeseung’s hand rested on your belly, thumb stroking absentmindedly. The simple touch turned into slow kisses, then heated touches.

You ended up straddling him, riding him deep and slow while the movie played in the background. He kept one hand on your belly the whole time, eyes locked on yours, whispering how much he loved seeing you like this. When you came, trembling in his arms, you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something you couldn’t take back. You were trying so hard not to admit it.Every forehead kiss made your stomach flutter. Every time he cooked for you or held you through a crying spell, your heart felt too full.

Every night he stayed over, wrapped around you naked and warm, you had to remind yourself this is just for the baby. This isn’t real. I don’t like him like that.But deep down, you knew the truth was slipping away from you. You were starting to like Lee Heeseung the real him. The one who showed up without being asked. The one who read parenting books at 3 a.m. The one who looked at you like you were carrying something precious. And you had no idea what to do with that.

The day of Heeseung’s game arrived faster than you expected. It was the last match before the team’s short break for Thanksgiving, and you had agreed to go with Yunjin and Soobin. You were three months along now, your belly softly rounded under an oversized hoodie with Heeseung’s jersey number hidden beneath. The nausea had eased a bit, but the hormones still made everything feel more intense emotions, touches, even the cheers from the crowd.

You sat in the stands between your friends, heart fluttering with a mix of nervousness and something warmer you refused to name. Yunjin was practically bouncing in her seat, waving a small handmade sign that said “GO HEESUNG!” while Soobin sat calmly beside you, occasionally glancing at you with quiet concern. The game started strong, but it quickly became clear that today wasn’t their day.

Heeseung played hard you could see the determination on his face every time he drove to the basket or called out plays. But the opposing team was on fire, and your university’s defense kept slipping. By halftime, they were down by 8 points. The crowd grew restless. You found yourself gripping the star shaped squishy toy he had given you, squeezing it tightly every time Heeseung missed a shot or got blocked.

In the second half, things got worse. Heeseung fought until the final buzzer, but the team lost by 14 points.

The arena was quiet as the final score flashed on the screen. You felt a pang in your chest watching Heeseung stand on the court, shoulders slightly slumped, sweat dripping from his hair. He looked disappointed but not broken, still the captain, still trying to rally his teammates with claps on the back and quiet words.

After the teams shook hands and the crowd started to disperse, you told Yunjin and Soobin you’d meet them later. You made your way down toward the court area, heart beating faster as you waited near the tunnel.

Heeseung emerged a few minutes later, freshly showered, hair still damp. The moment his eyes found you, his expression softened. He walked straight to you, ignoring the few lingering people around.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You hugged him back tightly, one hand rubbing his back, the other resting on the back of his head.

“You played really well,” you whispered. “I’m proud of you.”He let out a heavy breath against your skin. “We fucked up today. I fucked up.” “You didn’t,” you said gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “You fought until the end. That’s what captains do. One bad game doesn’t change how good you are.”

Heeseung searched your eyes for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist, careful not to press too hard on your belly.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmured. “Means a lot.”

You stayed like that for a while, letting him hold you in the quiet hallway outside the locker room. A few of his teammates walked past, but no one said anything. The public affection felt natural now part of the “fake” image you were both maintaining. But the way he held you felt anything but fake.When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “We leave for my parents’ place in two days,” he said quietly. “You still okay with going?”

You nodded, even though nerves twisted in your stomach. “Yeah. We’ll face it together.”Heeseung smiled faintly and kissed your forehead one more time before letting you go.“I’ll see you later. Get some rest, okay? For you and Bambi.”You watched him walk back toward the locker room, heart doing that annoying flutter again.You told yourself it was just the pregnancy.Just hormones. But as you walked back to meet Yunjin and Soobin, you couldn’t ignore how safe you felt in his arms or how much you were starting to crave that feeling.

The arena slowly emptied as you, Soobin, and Yunjin made your way out into the cool night air. The loss still lingered in the atmosphere, but the walk back felt lighter thanks to your friends’ company. Yunjin was practically glowing Sunghoon had offered to drop her home after the game, and she couldn’t stop smiling about it. “I’ll see you guys later!” she called out, waving excitedly as Sunghoon’s car pulled up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Soobin chuckled softly beside you as you both continued walking toward your apartment building.

The streets were quieter now, the distant cheers from the arena fading behind you. Soobin walked at your pace, hands in his pockets, glancing at you every few steps.After a comfortable silence, he spoke gently. “So you and Heeseung, huh?” You kept your eyes on the sidewalk, fingers fiddling with the hem of your oversized hoodie. “Yeah I guess so.” Soobin nodded slowly. “He seems different with you. Nicer I’ve seen how he looks at you during games. How he checks on you. It’s not what I expected.”

You smiled faintly, thinking about the way Heeseung had hugged you after the match, the soft kiss on your forehead, the way he always made sure you ate something gentle on your stomach. “He’s been really good to me,” you admitted quietly. “He brings me food that doesn’t make me sick. He checks on me every day. He even reads parenting books e’s trying a lot.”

Soobin was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he asked the question you’d been dreading. “Do you actually love him?” You hesitated.

The words got stuck in your throat. Your heart raced as memories flashed through your mind Heeseung holding you while you cried, cooking for you at 2 a.m., kissing your belly and whispering to Bambi, the way he looked at you like you mattered.You forced a small laugh, trying to sound casual. “Obviously duh.” Soobin stopped walking. He turned to face you fully under a streetlight, his expression soft but serious.

“It just feels really sudden,” he said gently. “One minute you hated him. You used to complain about him every single day. And now you’re dating him and pregnant with his child. It’s a lot to take in. Are you sure you’re okay?” You looked down at your shoes, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. The truth sat heavy in your chest you weren’t sure if you loved him. You were still trying so hard not to admit how much he was starting to mean to you. The hormones made everything confusing. The pregnancy made everything terrifying. And Heeseung himself made everything feel safe.

“I’m figuring it out,” you said quietly. “It’s complicated. But he’s been there for me for us.” Soobin nodded, not pushing any further. He simply walked beside you the rest of the way, offering his quiet, steady presence like he always did. When you reached your apartment building, he gave you a gentle hug. “I’m happy for you if you’re happy,” he said softly. “But if you ever need to talk I’m here. No judgment.” You hugged him back tightly, grateful beyond words. “Thank you, Soobin.”

As you walked up to your door alone, you leaned against it for a moment, hand resting on your belly.

You were still trying so hard not to admit it.

But every day, it was getting harder to lie to yourself.

You finally reached your apartment after the long walk back with Soobin and Yunjin. The moment the door closed behind you, the exhaustion of the day the game, the stares, the emotions settled heavily on your shoulders. You kicked off your shoes, changed into an oversized t-shirt, and crawled into bed. Before turning off the lights, you picked up your phone and texted Heeseung.

You : Reached home going to sleep now goodnight

You set the phone on the nightstand and turned off the lamp, pulling the blanket up to your chin. But sleep didn’t come. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty. You tossed and turned, mind racing with thoughts of the game, the whispers you’d heard, the weight of the secret you were still carrying, and the tiny life growing inside you. The pregnancy hormones made everything feel louder your emotions, your body, your worries. You heard the soft click of the front door opening. Heeseung must have used the spare key you’d given him.

A few seconds later, he appeared in the doorway of your bedroom, silhouetted by the faint hallway light. He looked tired from the game but his expression softened the moment he saw you.“You’re still awake?” he asked gently.You sat up slowly, hugging your knees to your chest. Your voice came out small and tired.“I can’t sleep…”

Heeseung didn’t hesitate. He walked over, kicked off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed beside you. Without a word, you raised your arms toward him. “Cuddles please?” Heeseung’s face softened even more. He pulled you into his arms immediately, wrapping you up against his chest.

One of his hands rested protectively over your small belly while the other stroked your back in slow, soothing circles. “Anything for my baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

The word “baby” made your heart skip. You knew this was all supposed to be fake the relationship, the affection, everything. He shouldn’t be calling you that. But you didn’t correct him. You just burrowed deeper into his chest, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat calm the storm inside you. Heeseung held you tighter, chin resting on top of your head. “Rough day?” he asked softly.

You nodded against him. “The game the stares everything feels too much sometimes.” “I know,” he murmured. “But you did good today. You were there for me. That means a lot.” You stayed silent, just letting him hold you. His hand continued its gentle strokes on your back, occasionally drifting to rub small circles over your belly. The simple touch made something warm bloom in your chest, something you quickly pushed down. It’s just hormones, you reminded yourself. This isn’t real. But it felt real.

Heeseung shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over both of you.

“Sleep now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Both of you.” You closed your eyes, safe in his arms, and finally drifted off. Heeseung stayed awake a little longer, holding you close, his hand never leaving your belly. He pressed one last soft kiss to your forehead before letting sleep take him too. In the quiet darkness of your apartment, wrapped in each other, the line between fake and real blurred a little more.

Heeseung lay awake in the dark, long after you had fallen asleep in his arms. Your head rested on his chest, breath warm and steady against his skin. One of your hands had unconsciously curled into his shirt, holding on even in sleep. His own hand stayed protectively over the small, soft swell of your belly where Bambi was growing. He could feel the faint warmth of your body, the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, and it made something deep and fierce bloom in his chest. He was so fucking happy.

It was terrifying how happy he was.This wasn’t the kind of happiness he was used to the rush of winning a game, the high of a party, the fleeting satisfaction of a random hookup. This was quieter and deeper. It settled in his bones and refused to leave. He had never imagined himself here lying in bed with the girl who used to hate him, holding her while she carried his child. But now that he was, he couldn’t picture anything else.

His thumb traced slow, gentle circles over your belly Bambi. The nickname still made him smile every time he thought about it. He remembered the first time he felt the baby move just a tiny flutter that you had grabbed his hand for. That moment had wrecked him in the best way. He had stayed up half the night after that, reading every article he could find about fetal movement, what it meant, how to support you through the coming months. He was falling in love with the baby. But he was also falling in love with you and that part scared him more.

He had always been honest with himself about girls before they were fun, temporary, never serious. But you were different. You had always been different. Even when you were yelling at him through the wall, even when you called him entitled and cocky, you looked at him like he was just a person. Not the basketball captain. Not the guy with the rich dad. Just… him and now? Now you let him hold you. You let him cook for you. You let him talk to your belly and kiss your forehead and stay the night when you were anxious. You were slowly opening up to him in ways he never thought you would.

Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in. He remembered the night he asked you to marry him. The way you had laughed at first, then looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. The rejection had hurt more than he let on. Not because his ego was bruised, but because for one brief, stupid moment, he had let himself imagine a future where you chose him too.

But he respected your decision. He wouldn’t force you to love him. He wouldn’t trap you in something you didn’t want. If all you could give him right now was this, these quiet nights, these shared moments, this careful co-parenting he would take it. He would take anything you were willing to give. Still he couldn’t stop the quiet hope that bloomed in his chest every time you smiled at him. Every time you leaned into his touch. Every time you fell asleep in his arms like you belonged there.

Heeseung closed his eyes, holding you a little tighter.

He didn’t know what the future held, especially with his father waiting at Thanksgiving, ready to judge and criticize. But for the first time in his life, he felt like he had something worth fighting for you and Bambi.

This strange, messy, beautiful thing growing between you. He was going to protect it. Even if you never loved him back the same way. Even if this was all still “fake” to you. Heeseung whispered against your hair, so quietly he barely heard it himself “I’ve got you both.” And in the dark, with you safe in his arms, he let himself believe it was enough for now.

ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ.

The drive to Heeseung’s parents’ house felt longer than it should have. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the highway stretched out in front of you, lined with trees that were slowly turning bare for winter. You sat in the passenger seat of Heeseung’s car, hands resting on your lap, occasionally drifting to the small, rounded curve of your belly under your oversized sweater. Three months and two weeks. The bump was undeniable now if you weren’t careful, but you still hid it as best as you could.

Heeseung drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing against yours on the center console. The radio played softly in the background some acoustic playlist he had put on because he knew loud music sometimes made your nausea worse these days. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. You could feel the weight of what was coming. Meeting his parents. Revealing the pregnancy. Pretending to be in a real relationship when everything still felt so fragile and confusing.

You glanced at him. He looked calm on the surface focused on the road, jaw relaxed but you noticed the way his fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel. He was nervous too. “Are you okay?” you asked quietly. Heeseung gave you a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah just thinking about how this is going to go.” He paused, then added, “My dad can be intense. He has high expectations. But my mom will probably be happy to see you. She’s been asking about you since I told them I was bringing someone.”

You nodded, looking out the window again. Your hand unconsciously rubbed small circles over your belly.

“I’m nervous,” you admitted after a while. “What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m just some girl who trapped you?” Heeseung reached over and gently took your hand, squeezing it once before returning his to the wheel. “They’re not going to think that,” he said, voice steady. “And even if they do it doesn’t matter. This is about us and Bambi not them.”

You stayed quiet, but his words settled something warm in your chest. You tried to ignore it. It’s just hormones, you told yourself again. Don’t get attached.

The car ride continued with small talk to fill the silence. Heeseung asked about your capstone project, about whether the nausea had gotten any better, about what you wanted to eat when you got there. You asked him about his basketball schedule after the break, about whether he was excited to see his mom. The conversation was easy, almost domestic, and that scared you more than the upcoming meeting. At one point, Heeseung reached over and rested his hand on your thigh not sexual, just comforting. You let it stay there.

Halfway through the drive, he spoke again, voice softer. “Thank you for doing this with me,” he said. “I know it’s a lot. Meeting my family pretending all of it. But I’m glad it’s you.” Your heart did that annoying little flip again. You looked down at your lap, cheeks warming. “Yeah me too,” you whispered. The rest of the drive passed in comfortable quiet. Heeseung kept the music low, occasionally humming along. Every now and then his hand would find yours again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

When the familiar gates of his parents’ large, modern house came into view, your stomach twisted with nerves. Heeseung parked the car and turned to you, his expression serious but kind.“You ready?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and nodded.“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Heeseung leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead the same gentle gesture he had been giving you more and more lately. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “Together.”

You stepped out of the car with him, heart pounding, hand instinctively resting on your belly as you walked toward the front door of his family home. Thanksgiving had officially begun. The walk from the car to the front door felt longer than it should have. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly under the oversized sweater, a small, protective gesture you’d developed over the past few weeks. The house was beautiful, modern, large, with clean lines and big windows that glowed warmly from the inside. It looked expensive. Intimidating.

Heeseung walked beside you, his hand lightly brushing against yours before he gently took it. His grip was warm and steady.“You okay?” he asked quietly. You nodded, even though your stomach was twisting with nerves. “Just a little scared.”

He squeezed your hand. “I’ve got you. We’ll do this together.”Before you could respond, the front door opened. A woman in her late 40s stepped out, elegant and poised, with sharp features softened by a warm smile. She had Heeseung’s dark eyes. This had to be his mom.

“Heeseung!” she called out happily, walking down the steps to meet you both. She pulled her son into a tight hug first. “My baby. You look tired. Have you been eating properly?” Heeseung hugged her back. “I’m fine, Mom.”Then she turned to you, her expression softening even more. “You must be the girl my son has been talking about,” she said warmly, stepping forward to pull you into a gentle hug. She smelled like expensive perfume and fresh flowers. “I’m Heeseung’s mom. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

You hugged her back, surprised by how kind her embrace felt. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Lee.”

She pulled back but kept her hands on your shoulders, studying your face with genuine curiosity and warmth.“Please, call me Eunae,” she said. “Come inside, both of you. It’s cold out here.” She ushered you both into the house. The interior was even more impressive high ceilings, modern furniture, and a large living room that opened into a beautiful kitchen. The smell of something delicious cooking drifted from the kitchen. Eunae led you to the living room and gestured for you to sit on the large, comfortable sofa.

“Heeseung told us you’d be coming,” she said, sitting across from you with a soft smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this. He doesn’t bring girls home often, you know.” You felt your cheeks warm. Heeseung sat beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours. Eunae asked gentle questions about your studies, your dreams of becoming an art curator, how you and Heeseung had started dating. You answered carefully, sticking to the story you two had rehearsed. She listened with genuine interest, occasionally glancing at Heeseung with a proud but slightly worried look.

Dinner was almost ready, she said. As she stood up to check on the food, she smiled at both of you.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she said quietly. “Both of you. This house has been too quiet lately.”You smiled back, feeling a little less nervous. But the tension in the air was still there the knowledge that Heeseung’s dad was somewhere in the house, and that the real test was yet to come.Heeseung squeezed your hand again, as if sensing your thoughts. “We’ve got this,” he whispered when his mom left the room. You nodded, leaning into his side just a little.For now, you were safe.

Later at dinner the dining table was beautifully set. Heeseung’s mom had prepared a generous spread grilled meat, fresh vegetables, rice, and several side dishes. His dad sat at the head of the table, a tall, imposing man with sharp eyes and a serious expression. He had greeted you politely but coolly when you first arrived. The conversation started light. Eunae asked more about your studies. His dad asked about basketball. Heeseung answered calmly, his hand occasionally brushing yours under the table for reassurance.

Then, halfway through the meal, Heeseung cleared his throat. “Mom. Dad,” he said, voice steady but serious. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

Both parents looked at him. Eunae’s expression was curious. His dad’s was already guarded.Heeseung reached over and took your hand openly on the table.

“She’s pregnant,” he said. “Three months along. The baby is mine.” The silence that followed was heavy.

Eunae’s eyes widened, then filled with tears. She brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh a grandbaby?”

The dining room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence after Heeseung’s announcement. Eunae’s eyes were wide with surprise, then quickly filled with happy tears. She brought a hand to her mouth, whispering, “A grandbaby oh, Heeseung” But his father’s reaction was ice cold.Mr. Lee set his chopsticks down with a sharp clack. His eyes narrowed on Heeseung, then flicked to you with clear disapproval. “Pregnant,” he repeated, voice low and cutting. “You got this girl pregnant while you’re supposed to be focusing on your future in the league? Are you serious right now?”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “Yes. We’re keeping the baby.” Mr. Lee let out a harsh, disbelieving scoff. He leaned back in his chair, looking at his son like he was a disappointment he could barely stand. “Of course you are. Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Make reckless decisions and expect everyone else to clean up after you.” His voice grew sharper, colder. “Your brother Heedo never did anything like this. He stayed focused. He trained hard. He made it pro without distractions. And you? You’re out here throwing away your career for some girl you barely know and a baby you’re not ready for.”

The words landed like punches.You felt Heeseung tense beside you, his hand gripping yours under the table. His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t speak.

Mr. Lee wasn’t done. “You think you can handle this? You can’t even handle the pressure of being captain properly. Always distracted, always partying, always doing the bare minimum. Heedo was never like this. He was disciplined. He was excellent. And you you’re just average. Now you’ve gone and ruined your future before it even started.” The silence that followed was brutal.Eunae looked uncomfortable, glancing between her husband and son. Heeseung’s face was carefully blank

The silence that followed Mr. Lee’s words was brutal.

Eunae looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting between her husband and son. Heeseung’s face remained carefully blank, but you could feel the tension radiating from him the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand tightened around yours under the table. Mr. Lee leaned forward, voice dripping with disappointment. “You think you can handle a child? You can’t even handle yourself. Always chasing girls, throwing parties, wasting time instead of training like your brother did.

Heedo never let anything distract him. He made it pro because he was focused, disciplined, excellent and you? You’re average at best. Now you’ve gone and ruined your future before it even started all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.” The words cut deep. You felt Heeseung flinch beside you, though he tried to hide it. Something inside you snapped.

You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Your heart was pounding, but your voice came out steady and sharp. “Enough.” Everyone at the table turned to look at you. Mr. Lee’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t get to talk to him like that,” you said, voice trembling with anger but clear. “Heeseung has been working incredibly hard. He’s been there for me every single day since we found out about the baby. He’s reading parenting books, adjusting his schedule, taking care of me when I’m sick all while still being the captain of his team. He’s trying his best, and that’s more than enough.” You looked at Heeseung, who was staring at you with wide, surprised eyes. “We’re leaving,” you said firmly, taking his hand. “We don’t have to sit here and listen to this.”

Heeseung stood up beside you without hesitation. Eunae looked torn, but she didn’t stop you. Mr. Lee’s face was red with anger, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Thank you for dinner,” you said politely but coldly to Eunae. “But we’re done here.”

You pulled Heeseung toward the door. He followed without a word, his hand warm and tight around yours. The moment you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your face. You didn’t stop walking until you reached his car. Only then did you turn to him.

Heeseung looked stunned. His eyes were glassy, and for the first time, you saw raw vulnerability on his face.

“You stood up for me,” he whispered. You squeezed his hand. “Of course I did. He had no right to talk to you like that.” Heeseung pulled you into his arms right there in the driveway, hugging you tightly. You felt him exhale shakily against your hair. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I I don’t know what to say.” You hugged him back just as tightly, your hand resting on his back.

As you both drove away from his parents’ house, the silence in the car was heavy but not cold. Heeseung reached over and took your hand again, holding it the entire drive back. For the first time, you didn’t pull away. And for the first time, you didn’t tell yourself it was just hormones.

The drive back to the apartment complex was quiet.

Heeseung kept one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing against yours on the center console. Neither of you said much. The weight of his father’s cruel words still hung heavy in the car, and you could feel the exhaustion radiating from him. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and every now and then he let out a slow, controlled breath like he was trying to push the night’s events away.

When he finally parked in front of the building, it was already well past midnight. The hallway lights were dim, casting long shadows across the floor as you both walked up to your doors in silence. The air felt cooler now, the kind of late-night chill that made you pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself.

Heeseung stopped in front of his own apartment, keys in hand. He looked tired drained in a way that went beyond the long day and the difficult dinner. His eyes were distant, like he was still replaying his father’s voice in his head.

“I think… I want to be alone tonight,” he said quietly, not quite meeting your eyes. “Just need some time to think.” You nodded, understanding. The night had been draining for both of you. You didn’t want to push him when he clearly needed space. “Okay,” you whispered. “Take care of yourself.” Before he could turn away, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. Heeseung stiffened for a second, surprised, then melted into it. His arms came around you, strong and warm, pulling you close.

You felt his face press into your hair, his breath shaky against your neck. For a long moment, you just held each other in the quiet hallway, the only sound being the faint hum of the building’s ventilation system.

When you finally pulled back, you rose onto your tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering peck to his cheek. Your lips lingered there for a second longer than necessary, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Heeseung froze. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at you, surprised and something else, something softer, almost vulnerable. Why did you do that? you thought, heart racing. This is all supposed to be fake right? But you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were in love with him. The realization hit you like a wave as you stood there in the dim hallway.

You loved Lee Heeseung not just because of the baby, not just because of the way he took care of you, but because of him. The man who showed up without being asked. The man who read parenting books at 3 a.m. The man who held you when you cried, kissed your forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world, and made you feel safe in a way no one else ever had. You wanted to build a family with him. You wanted the quiet nights, the shared meals, the gentle way he spoke to your belly. You wanted him.

The thought terrified you and warmed you at the same time. Heeseung lingered for a second longer, eyes searching yours, before he gave you a small, tired smile. “Goodnight,” he whispered. “Goodnight,” you replied softly. He disappeared into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. You stood there alone for a moment, heart still racing, before walking into your own place. You locked the door, leaned against it, and let out a long, shaky breath.

You’re in love with him, you admitted to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest. You want this. You want him. You want a family with him. The realization felt both freeing and terrifying. But before you could sit with it any longer, your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. You walked over and picked it up. The screen showed a message from an unknown number.

Unknown : Stay away from Heeseung or else your career and his especially are doomed. I will make sure of it

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When you were a little girl, hands still soft and eyes wide, your father told you stories of the sea. Its dangers. Its powers. Its beauty, and its mystery. 

These were stories of gods and monsters who resided deep beneath the ocean waves. They were creatures responsible for great disasters and tremendous adventures. He warned you of the sea dragons, that were wise and mischievous—they ruled the sea and were not to be crossed. He warned you of Charybdis, who resided in deep waters and showed no mercy to its victims. However, none of these fascinated you, even at your young age. They were just myths. Stories. Legends. Small tales that helped make sense of a senseless world. 

However, your father never let you speak that way about sirens. 

He loathed them. He said that they were the biggest nuisance of the sea, always scheming and always intervening. Killing. Murdering. And all while singing their song. 

He claims to have seen one once, but he can’t remember much about it. From the little he can recall, and a story you’ve heard maybe a million times before, he says that when he was a young man, he was stationed as a crew hand as many young men at that age are in your small coastal town. And late one night, when half of the crew was asleep and the other half stayed awake, drunk, blubbering on the deck, a piercing note glided through the air. He said it started like a whisper, a sweet lullaby. However, it grew. He still claims to remember how the song crescendoed into a primal lust, one that left him craving the taste of death and salt. When he woke up, the sun was barely cresting over the horizon, and his ears were bleeding. 

He was one of the few spared that night. 

Although your father has long since left the sea behind, retiring in a small house further inland, he still warns you to never walk along the shore at night. The sirens are beautiful, each and everyone. However, they are lethal. And beauty and death can never coexist peacefully. 

But just like the sea dragons and Charybdis, sirens, too, faded into tales of a fictional childhood. You grew, and so did your mind. And just as your frilly socks and toy dolls changed into revealing clothes and drunken parties, your opinions on these stories shifted too. There was no such thing as sirens or merfolk. They were myths. Stories. Tales. 

You would never see one for as long as you lived. 

—

Puke. It smells like fucking puke. 

You hold back Daniela’s hair with one hand, a steely grip on your red solo cup with the other, as she heaves into the sand. You warned her, you really did try. 

“Daniela, you can never keep vodka down. We know this,” you say, but she doesn’t listen. She never fucking listens. 

Every summer, the kids in your town throw a big beach party, starting at sunset and ending at sunrise. It’s always a big to-do, and you and your friends have been going ever since you were old enough. And like any party with young, drunk adults, something worthy of a good story has to happen. 

One year, Jay ran the length of the party butt-ass naked, simply because his friend, Riki, said he wouldn’t. Another year, Jeongyeon and her boyfriend (at the time) had a very public break-up. This year, your friends planned on being the center of attention. 

Your friends had made a bet early on, discussing the plan while you all were still at Yunjin’s house, patting glitter onto your eyelids and double-checking your manicures. The plan was to see who could pull the most people in one night, and whoever had the most points by the end of the night, was the winner. A kiss was five points, sex was twenty. Anything in between varied in amount depending on the circumstance and the length of which it occurred. An ambitious plan, however, a little flirtatious fun never hurt anybody. Just like always, Daniela was on a fucking roll. 

However, zealous as she was with her bets, she could also be overly ambitious when it came to having a good time. And, well, that often ended like this: puking in the sand at the biggest summer party of the year. 

So now you had only kissed three people, and Daniela had kissed four. God knows how many the rest have conquered by now, considering you and Daniela had lost them once you heard someone lugged a keg down to the beach. I mean, seriously. A fucking keg? 

“Sorry,” Daniela slurred, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“It’s okay,” you sighed, taking a sip of your drink in hopes it would relieve you from the smell, if even for just a second. “I told you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed, standing up straight. “Do you have a mint?” 

You reached into your back pocket, grabbing a spare piece of gum you had stashed before leaving the house. “I only have two more left. Try not to puke anymore before the night’s over.” 

She grumbled something that probably would rival an Etsy witch’s hex spell, before popping the mint gum in her mouth. You two stood there for a second, gathering yourselves before you spotted your next target. 

Would it be Heeseung? No. He got a girlfriend three months ago and is—allegedly—very loyal to her. Would it be Jake? No. He would never let it go and blow up your DMs. Sunoo? Your dear friend who was always down for a little smooch, especially when he has had about two and a half hard seltzers? Bingo. 

“I’ll be back in twenty. If I’m not back, call the Coast Guard,” you joke, not even bothering to look back as you saunter over to Sunoo. 

He looks good tonight. Exceptionally good. Like really, really good. His shirt was the perfect amount of tight around the shoulders, and his hair was the perfect amount of styled but relaxed. He looks effortlessly handsome. And knowing how unresistant he is to compliments, you figure it would take you five minutes maximum to butter him up, and then, boom, lips locked, and he becomes lucky number four on your roster for tonight. 

Maybe you could convince him to touch your boob—that would have to give you a couple of extra points, right? 

However, before you could plant your cute shorty-short covered butt in front of him, Yunjin stumbles into your view. Her shirt is halfway off and her lipstick is smudged, but other than that, she’s fully intact. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell happened to you?!” you gasp, trying to tug the front of her shirt over her boob. Good thing she was wearing a bikini top underneath, but with the way she was fumbling around, a nip slip was bound to happen. 

“Gimme eight points,” she demands. Gripping your shoulders like her life depends on it. 

Your eyes grow comically wide, the only kind of wide that can be accomplished by drunken surprise. “Why would I do that?” 

“I made out with some dude,” she explained, taking a deep breath to sober herself up. “And let him do some other things, if you know what I mean.” 

“I’m gonna need a better explanation than that,” 

“Whatever,” she groans, shoving you in the opposite direction of Sunoo. “Let’s go take shots and then go swimming. The water is supposed to be nice tonight.” 

And soon, the thoughts of shoving your tongue down Sunoo’s throat were consumed by the taste of tequila chased by some slightly sandy lime wedges. It didn’t bother you, though. After your second shot and the warmth spreading across your cheeks, the sand was only a mere memory. 

Upon knocking out your last shot, you and your friends began to strip yourselves of your clothes, leaving yourselves in your bathing suits. The water was freezing, but to your warm, sweaty bodies, it was the perfect way to cool down. The sea was tranquil, waves glittering under the stars and the moon. The moon was full, as if a god carved out a pale space in the inky sky, and it illuminated the night perfectly. If you were any more sober, you’d perhaps be a bit more curious as to why it was so bright. Too bad you weren’t, though. 

Amongst the squeals and splashing, you found your mind growing very calm. Peaceful. Quiet. The salt breeze tickled your face, as your hair floated in the water around you. You dunk your face under the cold water, waking yourself up slightly. Upon resurfacing and blinking away the brine, you spot a rocky jetty. Has that always been there? Certainly, it must’ve been. A whole row of rocks doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. 

However, amidst the confusion, it seems to be calling your name. It isn’t enticing you with liquor or extra points in your game like everything else has interested you tonight. Instead, it seems like it has a secret it wants to share with you. Only you. 

“I wanna chicken fight,” Yunjin declares, grabbing someone to be her partner. “Do you wanna duel?” she asks you. 

You shake your head, eyes remaining on the jetty that stands darker than the night sky. “No, you guys go ahead. I want to go check out that jetty real quick. I’ll join in on the next round.” 

Yunjin shrugs, climbing on Daniela’s shoulders as she bellows some self-proclaimed war cry. You swim over to the jetty, the current guiding you. Wedging your foot on the flattest rock you could find, you hoist yourself onto the ledge, propelling yourself onto the jetty. Your bottom smacks against the wet rock, droplets of moon-filled water decorating your thighs as you stand and regain your footing. You begin to stagger slowly along the jetty, careful to watch your step in your inebriated state. 

You may be drunk, but you certainly aren’t stupid. 

The pale moon lights your path, warning you against stepping on jagged stones or sharp barnacles that could cut your feet, and highlighting flat rocks that weren’t too slippery from the salty sea. The cool air suddenly grows warmer, but you’re not sure when you begin to feel the change in temperature or if it could be blamed on anything other than the few shots of tequila coursing through your veins. After what feels like hours of wandering—which has probably, realistically, only been about five minutes—you sit back down on a ledge, shifting around to get yourself comfortable as you dip your feet into the water. 

You look down, watching your feet against the deep darkness of the ocean, mesmerized by the little swirls that follow your toes. However, just as you’re captivated by the little currents you’re creating, you fail to recognize the other currents being created around you. 

Head drooped low and eyes fixated, it isn’t until you hear a loud splash do you look up. 

“Yunjin?” you call out. 

The ocean is vast and empty; only the glittering waves keep you company. They’re so pretty, you think. They’re so pretty that you wish someone would write a song about them. 

Then, another splash. You don’t just hear it this time, but you see it too. A small flicker of something shiny pierces through the water, before smacking down aggressively, foam and salt spraying in all directions. You’re not sure what it was. It was far enough away that you couldn’t make out any details, and the fact that your world is currently functioning at an aggressive tilt does not help by any means. 

However, your mind rapidly comes up with the highest possible conclusion: shark. 

You tug your feet out of the water, pleading to the gods that you won’t become the first dead girl in your rendition of Jaws. But yet, unlike any sane person, you remain seated. You know, just in case it actually is a shark and you can end the night by claiming that you saw one. Maybe you can lie and say that it tried to take a nibble out of you. That would certainly have to gain you some points, right? And if not by your friends, certainly other people attending this party would remember you as the girl who fought off a shark all by herself? 

Not a bad way to be remembered—especially this early in your life. 

However, it’s been two minutes. The water has stilled. There is no shark. 

You’re still tense. Slightly afraid to move, and eyes transfixed on the glittering water. You kind of want to jump in again. You know you shouldn’t, of course. There could be a fucking shark just waiting for you to jump in so it can have you as a midnight snack. However, despite all of these red flags flashing through your mind, it seems as if the water is calling your name. It’s calling your name in a sweet, melodic voice. Almost like a little hum. A lullaby. 

If you were in the right mind, you would be able to acknowledge that the this song you hear isn’t a figment of your imagination, but rather a voice. A note rings out, graceful and warm. And because it blends in with the low rumble of the ocean, and you’re currently battling with your alcohol induced brain, it’s easy to disregard the danger that harmonizes softly with the waves. Because at the end of the day, a measly shark fears this tune just as you should too. 

But you’re drunk, and you’re naive. What could a human possibly know about the wonders of the deep blue? 

Just as your eyes stay glued to the water, you feel something take a hold of your ankle. 

This is it, you think. It’s the fucking shark. 

You yelp and push yourself backwards, flinging yourself as far as you can. You don’t make it too far before realizing it’s just a hand. However, that hand hasn’t let go of your ankle, and keeps your foot in place with a strength that your mind is incapable of registering at this moment. All you know is that your foot and that stubborn grip remain. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you huff, wiping your hands down your face as you snap yourself out of whatever trance the water put you into. The song you’ve been hearing is cut into two, an eerie silence following. You think you might’ve just fallen asleep for a second there. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

You giggle as you look down to see who has taken a hold of your ankle, half expecting it to be Daniela or maybe even Sunoo. However, a different pair of eyes stare back at you, and they are ones you wouldn’t say you’re very well acquainted with. 

In fact, you’re not at all acquainted with these eyes. Actually, you don’t know who the fuck this is. 

“Um, hello?” 

The young man just stares, eyes wide and round and bewildered. He looks almost as surprised as you, if not more. He pushes away from the rock a bit, his fingers sliding down the top of your foot as he submerges his mouth into the water. It’s almost as if he’s embarrassed that he scared you. 

Almost. 

“Bro, you scared me so fucking bad. I almost shit myself,” you chuckle, finally letting yourself relax. “I thought you were one of my friends.” 

He blinks, slow and curious like an animal. But then, he lifts his head to show two pink lips, pursed like he’s guarding a secret. “Sorry,” he says, in a voice so gentle and sweet you swear stars twinkle in response. 

Suddenly feeling shy, you shrug and smile coyly. “It’s okay. It was kinda funny.” 

“Funny?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. A strand of wet hair falls across his forehead, a dark streak against pale skin. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Like, you know, funny. Ha-ha.” 

He nods slowly, mimicking your movement before he smiles softly. It seems like he was genuinely confused. “Yeah. Funny.” 

He’s kind of shy, you decide. When you’re drunk, you’re as social as can be so this just cannot do. But lucky for him, and especially lucky for you, you can keep the ball rolling. 

“Are you from here?” you inquire, scooting closer to the edge. “I haven’t seen you before.” 

The young man swims closer, his hand finding your ankle again but you don’t seem to mind. His grip is gentle, comforting. Besides, he’s kinda hot. 

“No.” 

“Oh?” you hum, peering down at him. He brushes his thumb over the bone, and it almost lulls you to sleep. Whoever this guy is, you like him. “Where are you from?” 

He sighs, light and serene like a morning sea breeze. “Not from here,” he replies, a voice so sweet even birds would stop to listen. 

You roll your eyes, giggling a little. “Well, duh. But where-”

“Do you want to go swimming?” 

Your brain freezes for a second, fog consuming your mind. A warmth fills your body, different from the buzzing warmth of the alcohol—this is sharp, arousing. And you can’t deny it, he’s attractive. You very well could just be turned on, but something whispering in the back of your mind tells you it’s not. It’s more primal, animalistic. Dangerous. Although a part of you is pleading you to not get into the water, reasoning with the fact that he’s a stranger, you can feel yourself burning up from the inside out. 

The song starts once more. 

He strokes your ankle again. “Please?” he says, voice softer than a lamb’s. 

You feel yourself helplessly nodding, submerging your other foot in the water. He begins to help you in, before you remember what—you suspect—was in the water only a few feet behind him. 

“Wait,” you stop. “I saw something earlier. It might’ve been a shark. You should come out.” 

He looks at you, stunned. The song stops. You might as well have spoken a language no one has ever documented. His head cocks sidewise, like a dog hearing a high whistle. 

“There is no shark,” he insists, ceasing any kind of movement. 

You shake your head, feeling as if you’re rediscovering that there’s more around you than this mystery man. “No, I swear I saw something earlier. You didn’t see anything?” 

He just stares at you, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Would he fucking pull it together? 

“I’m not fucking joking, dude. You should get out,” you berate, panic beginning to creep under your skin.

But he just remains still, shock painting his face from top to bottom. His grip on your ankle stays, but that fuzzy warmth you once felt is ripped away and replaced with freezing sobriety. You’re still frantically searching the water, anticipating a sight of a gnarly fin or menacing jaws to pop out of the water at any second. And although you’d love to have a crazy story to tell, you’re not sure if witnessing ‘death by shark’ is a tale you want to relay. You don’t even know this guy’s name. What would you tell the coast guard? The police? But the water is dark, darker than before. All that stares back at you is a pit of tar, motionless and waiting. Have the stars always been this dim? 

“It’s okay,” he eventually says, stroking your ankle in a tantalizing pattern. “It’s safe. I promise.” 

“I’m not playing, bro. Get out of the-”

Now. You’re sure fireball and vodka don’t mix well, but you’re not too sure that it’s supposed to make you hallucinate. However, that’s the only way you can explain what you’re seeing right now. Just between your leg and the young man’s torso, you spot movement. 

It’s not vicious or menancing—nothing like an animal about to attack. Instead, it’s relaxed. If anything, it moves a bit seductively. The movement is unified, nothing like legs. It’s unified like a tail. You follow the movement upwards, watching it blend into the young man’s hips and torso. It’s his. 

You hope deeply that it’s not a part of him, but the voice of your father, blaringly loud in the back of your head, rings true. These so-called mythical creatures are true. It also just so happens that the man in front of you, with eyes as dark as midnight and lips as pink as a sunset, is no man at all. 

He’s a fucking siren. 

You scream bloody fucking murder, and he jumps. 

“Wait-” he begins, but you’ll hear none of it. 

Kicking and trashing, praying to whatever god that someone will hear you and come to your rescue, you try to fight him off. Water sprays in every direction, salt stinging your eyes and disrupting the once tranquil ocean. Somewhere in your trashing, you kick him square in the face. He lets go of your ankle, hands flying towards his eye, nails slicing through the skin of your calf somewhere in the process. However, you’re too focused on trying to get away to even realize that the scratch was an accident. 

“Help! Fuck, he’s trying to eat me!” you yelp, stumbling to your feet. 

You eventually stand upright, the young man groaning before submerging himself back into the water. However, you waste no time trying to decipher if he’s following you or trying to rally some more of his (supposed) little siren friends. Instead, you bolt. 

Holding your tits steady in your bikini top, you scamper off of the jetty and towards the sandy beach. It’s a miracle you don’t slip on any of the wet rocks, that certainly would’ve been a prime moment for him to snatch you up and eat you. But you hold your own, feet landing onto the soft sand as you sprint over to the crowd. 

You’ve never been more thankful to see another human being in your life. 

Lungs burning and eyes watering, you spot Daniela, who emerges from the crowd like your knight in shining armor. Yunjin and Lara follow, as well as a few other of your friends. Hair still damp from playing in the water, but other than that, unscathed. 

You collapse into Daniela’s arms, chest cramping from lack of oxygen. If you could catch your breath, you would cry. But after such a scare, you’re not sure if you can do anything other than heave. 

“Where the fuck were you?!” Daniela damn near shrieks, cradling you close to her chest like a baby. “We looked everywhere for you.” 

“I-I-I…” you stutter, trying to quiet your pounding heart. “I saw something in the water. I thought it was some guy…” 

“What? Like a dead body?” Yunjin asks, concern furrowing her eyebrows. 

You shake your head vehemently, finally being able to breathe. “Worse. He was talking to me and he was, like, really hot so I didn’t really think anything of it. But then I was getting all warm and he was trying to get me into the water. But then I looked down and he didn’t have any fucking legs. He had like—I don’t know—a tail? I couldn’t-” 

Lara scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head slowly as she narrows her eyes at you. “You’re really drunk.” 

You throw your hands down, petulant like a child bubbling with a tantrum. “I’m not lying, Lara!” 

“Yo, what the fuck happened to your leg?” Sunoo inquires, pointing towards your calf as he stands near Heeseung. 

Daniela spins your shoulders a bit, forcing you to show off the backside of your leg. Sure enough, five red gashes, varying in depth and vibrancy, slowly drip blood down your heel and into the sand. You don’t even remember it happening, memory blocked in a panic. However, maybe it’s the adrenaline or the cleanliness of the cuts, but you hardly even notice them safe for the warmth that dribbles down your shivering skin. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Daniela curses, beginning to usher you through the crowd and towards, you presume, your house. “You disappear, without a word, and now you're saying shit about some random dude or whatever? Your dad is going to fucking kill me,”

Yunjin laughs, jogging to keep up with you and Daniela as she storms you across the beach. “I didn’t take you for a runner,” she snickers.  

“I’m not a runner!” you argue. “I told you where I was going!” 

Daniela stops, as do all of your friends, with an unimpressed look on their faces. 

“No, one second you were in the water with us and the next you were gone. We didn’t even hear you leave,” Daniela says, the moon taunting you through the ringlets of her hair. 

—

Safe to say, you’re a little scared to go back to the beach. 

Daniela was quick to wrap up your little injury, and you were able to brush off your mom’s inquisitive looks during your weekly Sunday brunch with a simple lie. However, you can’t help but feel like something is still out there, waiting for you. Looking for you. 

Nearly a week has passed, and every night, you see him. Dark hair, and even darker eyes shaped just like crescent moons that observed your every step. Sometimes, he pulls you into the water and tries to drown you. Sometimes, you two just have a lovely chat. Everytime, you wake up gasping, lungs feeling like they’ve been filled with water and calf tingling despite healing without complication. On one occasion, you woke up standing before your window, hands pressed against the glass like you were trying to wish it away. You asked if Lara could sleep over the next night. 

But despite the pounding heart and paranoia, you still feel this pull. Every night, when the moon creeps through your curtains and touches your face, you remember his thumb against your ankle. You can hear the melodic lilt in his voice. 

You don’t even know his name or, frankly, what he really is, but you feel drawn to him. 

And maybe that’s stupid. Scratch that, it’s definitely stupid. Especially when you remember how you felt as if you had no control over your body at certain points in your conversation with him. But you were drunk! Surely, that wouldn’t ever happen again if you were sober… right? 

It’s ridiculous to even be having these thoughts, and to be hoping to catch a glimpse of something splashing in the water as you watch the waves cresting from your porch. But you can’t help but wonder, despite trying your hardest to deprive yourself of that urge. 

So in order to fully stick to your rules, you haven’t been going to the beach. In part because you’re afraid of getting attacked again or whatever, and mostly because you’re not sure of what you would do if you saw him again. 

It’s embarrassing having to lie to your friends, dodging every attempt of theirs to drag you down to the beach. I picked up a shift at work; my dad wants me to come over for dinner; I forgot to turn in a paper despite the semester ending two weeks ago. They all see right through your lies, and you know it, but they don’t push. 

They don’t really know what happened that night, and despite feeling like you remember every detail and explaining your side of the story a million times over, you’re not quite sure if you actually know what you’re talking about. Either way, they don’t push and hope that, eventually, you’ll come around. 

Besides, it’s summer! You can’t stay cooped inside for forever!

And they're right, because by the fifth day, you’ve had enough. 

You can only binge watch so many episodes of Love Island before the incessant drama begins to rot away your brain. All of the arguing and crying only forces you to think about your own current dilemma. Unable to ignore it any longer, you decide it’s time for you to face your fear. 

You step outside, the air still slightly cool from the morning breeze. The sea is calm, glistening in the mid morning sun. The beach is fairly barren, only a few people taking their dogs on a morning stroll. The sun is high in the sky, and you can hear the waves crashing into the sand like a faint whisper from your balcony. 

Today is the day. It’s nice out, the sun is shining. Nothing could go wrong. 

You trudge down to the beach, walking towards the same jetty where you met that strange… whatever. You face the jetty, hands growing a bit clammy, but other than that, you’re killing this! A few deep breaths, and you have this totally under control! As a matter of fact, you have it so under control, that you decide that you can even walk out to the jetty. 

And walk out you do! 

The rocks are a little cool, not yet warmed by the afternoon sun. You carefully watch your step, not wanting to slip and fall into the ocean below. The water is calm, only lightly spraying your feet and ankles when a wave abruptly hits the side of the jetty. If you really think about it, the tickle of the seafoam on your legs is like the sea is apologizing for that night… in a way. 

See, this isn’t too bad. Nothing to be afraid of. 

Maybe you were making shit up—just like your friends suggested. You were pretty drunk, after all. Perhaps, you fell asleep on the jetty and conjured some crazy dream, in which you injured yourself while thrashing around. It certainly wouldn’t exactly explain why the cuts are the perfect size and distance of human—or human-like—fingers. Maybe they’re from teeth? You can’t really remember. But does it really matter? 

You’re safe. The water is calm. It’s a nice day, and you’re only a few weeks into your summer break! You should be able to enjoy it. 

Things are beginning to look up for you. The five angry lines down your calf are healing, and hopefully, walking out to the exact same spot where you saw this alleged siren-merman- whatever will help with the nightmares and sleepwalking. You’ll finally be able to feel like yourself, and enjoy your summer. Parties, beach trips, and getting drunk with your friends is in your imminent future. 

At least until you realize that the same set of slender eyes that you nearly drowned in those days ago is staring back at you, curious and observant through a purple bruise that blooms across his left cheek. 

Of course, you scream bloody murder. 

It’s just like last time, really,  except he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t try to grab you, nor does he try to eat you. Instead, he flinches and covers his ears and waits for you to stop. The worst he does is give you an annoyed glare, but that’s about it. On the other hand, you fall flat on your ass out of fear, flailing and praying to whatever god that might be listening to let you walk out of this alive. 

Eventually, you get a grip and are able to quiet down. Chest heaving and hands trembling, you stare at him, the seat of your shorts soaked with sea water the longer you remain paralyzed on your ass. He continues to stare at you, the bottom half of his face submerges, leaving only his eyes remaining. They never leave yours, and you’ll be damned if yours leave his. 

As it turns out, your screaming was pointless. No one comes running to save you, no one asks what’s wrong. You're not even sure if the world blinked at your unease. However, he did. 

The young whatever-he-is slowly removes his hands from his ears, swimming a hair closer, hesitant, as he takes his face out of the water. He’s just as handsome as you remember, maybe even more, now that you can see him better in the morning light. Water drips from his chin and his lips are set in a small frown, displeased with your sudden outburst. 

“You’re loud,” he mutters, eyes squinting. 

Your heart is still pounding, and your toes curl reflexively as he moves closer. You’re not sure. You should’ve probably threatened him—told him you had a knife or something. Maybe even said you told the coast guard about him, and they were ready to come pick him up at any minute. Goodbye, Mister Mystery-Creature! 

But, of course, you say no such thing. 

“You fucking bit me!” you shriek, suddenly pulling down your bandage to reveal five angry lines, even and deep but healing nonetheless. 

He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows quirking upwards. “I didn’t bite you. You kicked me,” he retorts. 

“Because you bit me!” 

“I scratched you,” he answers plainly, his hands coming into view as he places them on the jetty, mere inches away from your feet. He makes no move to grab at them and pull you under. “You kicked me, and I scratched you. It was an accident. I’m sorry.” 

And this guy, whoever or whatever he is, says all of this like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Plain as day, pure as milk. He’s still looking at you, eyes wide and easy, still rich like a midnight sky but you can see the sun cresting in his irises, and you finally feel your heart calm. 

His eyes begin to wander, sliding down your neck and chest, and eventually landing on your legs. He observes the scratch marks, certainly better than they were even just a few days ago, but still a bit irritated. But then his eyes just stay there, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and wonder as his eyes scan up and down the length of your legs. Legs, knees, ankles, feet, toes—and back up. 

While he takes his time analyzing you, you look closer at him. He looks… normal. The face of someone about your age. His cheeks are smooth, cheekbones proud. Strands of his hair stick to his forehead, just like they did the night you met him, spelling out something maybe you’ll one day understand. His mouth is pursed in concentration, a whisper of a dimple showing itself next to his pink pout. His eyebrows are dark and straight, and his nose hooks slightly, although you can’t tell from the front. Overall, a very handsome man. 

Moving from his face, you can’t really find anything abnormal from what you can see. Well, except for his hands. 

His hands are normal, fingers slender and long like a human's, except for the damn near set of acrylics he has. Sharp and clean, just like claws, but also neutral and thinner like human nails. Seeing them in the daylight like this makes you understand why the damage you suffered was so great. 

“Damn, dip and tip!” you exclaim, forgetting all about the nearly debilitating fear you felt a moment ago. Swinging your legs under you, you grab his hand in yours, observing his nails up close. 

The young man squeaks, a floundering sound that bubbles up from his chest. His hands are even prettier up close, his nails a light shade of pearl as they file into a point, despite not being too long. He doesn’t try to pull away, nor does he try to pull you down under. He remains very still, like a dog waiting to see what you’ve plucked from their fur. 

“They’re very sharp,” you say, stating the obvious. 

“Yours are… not.” 

You chuckle, letting go of his hand when you become seemingly aware of how strange that must’ve been. Not that this is really normal anyway. “What… are you… exactly?” 

He tosses his head back, flicking any hair that was stuck to his forehead away from his face. “Same as you, but different,” he responds, resisting his cheek in his palm. 

You shake your head incredulously. “You have a tail. We’re very different.” 

He shrugs, moving positions so he can rest against a rock—a makeshift seat. You glimpse at his torso, collarbones glistening in the early morning light. You imagine that swimming in salt water all the time would dry out his skin, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. In fact, his skin looks rather smooth. His tail, long and decorated in shades of silver and blue that glisten like a cresting wave when the sunlight hits, stretches out in front of him. It twitches under your stare. 

“Depends on what story you hear. Some say sirens, some say merman,” he explains, eyes returning to your face after thoroughly inspecting your legs. “You can say whatever you prefer.” 

“And which do you prefer?” 

He thinks, long and hard, as his eyes flick upwards to search for the answer. “Jungwon.” 

You blink. “The fuck is Jungwon?” 

“My name,” he giggles, a sound sweet and friendly like a strawberry dipped in sugar. “Jungwon.” 

—

As it turns out, Jungwon is very interesting. 

You’re not sure when it became a regular thing for you to see him—it’s not something the two of you ever really discussed—but each day, without fail, you two meet up every morning. Sometimes you two just watch each other in peaceful silence, soaking in every difference and similarity. It’s not every day you run into a siren, and you can imagine Jungwon isn’t seeing humans on the regular either. Unless, he is. You’ll have to ask him. 

But because he doesn’t know any humans, other than you—you think—he tends to have a lot of questions. 

Jungwon has asked you if it’s hard to control your legs—you assume it’s because there’s two, instead of one like his tail; he’s also asked questions like what do humans eat, what do they do for fun, and why do they swim so weirdly. Of course, you answer to the best of your ability, but sometimes it’s hard to explain. So instead, you show him. 

When you told him that humans eat mostly anything they want, he didn’t believe you. But when you brought a bag of goodies for him to try, you barely got a chance to eat the gummies you brought before he devoured them. You told him what you did for fun, and even let him play around with your phone after he dried his hands off. You would’ve entertained him with swimming, but you were still a bit weary of him. The cuts on your leg were still healing, after all. 

But despite how eager you were to answer any and all of his questions, you were a bit shy to ask your own. 

“What were you doing the night we met?” Jungwon asks, nibbling on a pineapple flavored gummy bear while you lazily scanned a book your father lent you on aquatic folklore. It was a bit difficult to explain your sudden interest to your father, especially after finding it trivial your whole life, but years of pretending to not be drunk in dire situations led you to be quite the actress. 

“Excuse me?” you ask, thumbing the page. 

Jungwon turns to fully face you, chin resting on his forearms. You wonder if they have hand-held weights wherever he lives—-his biceps are, well, nice. 

“Why were you at the beach so late the night we met?” he asks again, lazily tracing the marbled grain of a rock. 

You shrug, shoving the book in your bag. Hopefully he didn’t catch the title. “There’s a big party on the beach every summer. I go every year,” you explain, reaching out your palm in hopes that he’ll let you eat the snack that you brought. 

“A party?” 

You nod as he places a singular gummy bear in your hand. Stingy. “Yeah, like a gathering of people. Where you have fun,” 

“I know what a party is,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I just forgot the word.” 

“Oh,” you nod. You don’t know why it is surprising to you that he had a lapse of memory, but you sort of just assumed that Jungwon had always spoken and understood your language. “Do you speak something else at home?” 

He averts his gaze towards the water, looking over the ripples of waves as the early morning light glints off their crests. Suddenly feeling like you had overstepped, you try to dismiss the question in a flurry of gestures and sour faces. 

His eyes trace back towards you, amusement hidden beneath his deep eyes. “Yeah. I don’t talk like how I talk with you back home,” he answers plainly. 

You absorb this new information, willing yourself to relax a bit. “What do you speak then?” you wonder. 

Jungwon purses his lips, eyes roaming towards the sky as if the answer will be etched into the clouds. “I don’t really think there’s a human equivalent.” 

“Why can you talk like me then?” you implore, mind flowing with questions you had been too shy to ask previously. 

He smiles, finding your questions endearing. Jungwon wonders if this is how you feel when he asks you questions about humans—warm. Cute. 

“I’ve read it on boats, heard it from sailors,” he responds, reaching for the bag of gummy bears. He pushes a green one between two pink lips. “Merfolk are good with sounds. It’s not too hard to learn.” He watches you nod thoughtfully, gears turning many miles a minute. He kind of wishes he could walk through your mind. At least for an hour. “Is it not the same for humans?” 

You shake your head, giggling. “No, it takes humans a while to learn new languages,” you say, turning to lay on your side comfortably. “Some can learn in a few years though.” 

This baffles Jungwon, that pinch at the top of his nose forming that you have begun to grow acquainted with. “Humans really are stupid.” 

You shove his head under the water. 

—

Ever since that day with Jungwon, your relationship has become a lot easier. Strange. But easier. 

He waits for you like always, sunning himself on the rocks before retreating a little further into the water when you arrive as if he’s shy. Shy of what? You’re not sure. You’d rather him stay sunning himself—you rather enjoy the view. However, it doesn’t take long before he starts to cozy up against the jetty again once you two begin your early morning check ups. 

You’ve actually learned a lot about Jungwon these past few days. Not only about him, but about merfolk. Merfolk travel in groups, like orcas or tuna. Usually it’s confined to family, according to Jungwon, but you’re allowed to interact with merfolk outside of your kin. Blushing, he admits that typically one only travels outside of the pack when finding a mate—which you teased him relentlessly about—but there’s no strict rules on not interacting with someone outside of a familial pod. Sort of like interacting with strangers on the street—it’s not that it’s not allowed, it just might be a little strange. That is, of course, unless you’re looking to date or exchange numbers or make out in the back of some dingy bar. 

He also explains that it’s hard to know where to locate merfolk. There are some established colonies, but those are in places humans have yet to discover. You could go your whole life without seeing another pod, you suppose. However, many familial pods live further out at sea. 

“Why were you so close to the shore that night then?” you ask, doodling on the corner of some magazine you brought to show Jungwon. He took only a slight interest, preferring to learn from you than some paper. 

“Lost track of where I was, I guess.” 

And that was that. But Jungwon says he has friends and family, and tells you that merfolk are definitely on the higher end of the food chain—so don’t get it twisted!—but he mainly tells you that after you expressed concern that he would get eaten by a shark and you would never see him again. 

“Merfolk are smarter than sharks, I’ll be fine,” he dismisses, eyeing your legs like he’s done many times before. You’re not too sure why he hasn’t asked you about them yet. He’s asked you about nearly everything else, besides the obvious. 

“But sharks are, like, really fast,” you explain, as if you know better than him. Mind you, the ocean is literally his home. 

He eyes you for a second, a teasing glint in his eye surfacing slowly but surely. “Do you want to see me fight a shark?” 

You flick him in the forehead, which he whines before he flicks you back. “Don’t be weird.” 

Jungwon tells you that merfolk and humans aren’t really supposed to interact. Obviously, there’s been a history of encounters—there’s too many stories for them to be fictional like you once believed—but it’s still frowned upon. Many merfolk have been hurt or exploited, even killed in some instances by humans. You promised Jungwon that you would never do that to him. He believes you. 

However, Jungwon never really addresses the elephant in the room. Of course, there are many cultural and behavioral differences. And don’t get it wrong, you enjoy learning about them. They’re fascinating! You would’ve never imagined a whole different world beyond the one you know. Hell, you didn’t even think a world like Jungwon’s existed before you met him! Even then you were in denial. But what you really want to know about are your physical differences. 

To be fair, Jungwon is curious about them too. He eyes your legs and feet and toes every time he sees you. He watches your mouth carefully, inspecting the lack of fangs and the lack of webbing between your fingers. It baffles him, and it certainly baffles you. But you know Jungwon. He won’t be the one to ask—he gets shy about these things. So it’s going to have to be you. 

Bite the bullet, jump off the cliff, and ask what the hell it’s like having a fish tail. 

One morning, when the sun was still low and the sky not yet a bright orange, you decide to ask while Jungwon rests across a rock, lazing about as usual. He’s not really a morning person, something you learn the more and more you two see of each other. Perhaps the excitement has disappeared. Or perhaps, the comfortability has set in. 

His tail, a brilliant silver and an even richer shade of cobalt, wades leisurely in the water behind him. You watch his back rise and fall, his eyes shut and mouth in a pink pout from being pressed against his arm. He looks peaceful. Calm. Cute. What better way to ruin it by asking an obnoxious question?

“Can I touch your tail?”

Jungwon’s back stills, his whole body going rigid to the point that you are reminded that he is part animal. He lifts his head slowly, a bright red circle imprinted on his cheek from laying on it for too long. You almost want to laugh, but the look he gives you—wild and confused—makes you think better of it. After the seventh second of straight silence, you decide to back track. 

“Or your hands?” What. “Or your teeth?” Worse. “Or just anything that isn’t really human-like for that matter?” What the fuck is wrong with you. 

Jungwon is so genuinely stunned that you’re not even sure if he’s breathing anymore. He shakes his head, tiny droplets of water falling from his hair that never seems to fully dry. Jungwon begins to think a crab crawled into his ear because he can not believe what he’s hearing. 

“You want to touch my tail?” 

He’s making you nervous. “Sorry, was that offensive to ask? I don’t really know how to go about this.” 

He’s still quiet, something you’ve never known from Jungwon. Comfortable silence is one thing, and you two quite enjoy existing together in that way. However, once you say something, Jungwon always responds. Not now. 

“I just…” you begin, slowing once you notice his gaze. 

Jungwon’s eyes are sleek, narrow and lidded as if he’s stalking his next victim. And you’ve never seen Jungwon hunt—you don’t know if he’s good or bad at it—but you imagine this is what it must feel like to be his prey. Tense, shaken, maybe a little bit aroused—you don’t know! You don’t know if fish can feel that way. But you certainly do. 

His eyes never leave your face, watching carefully for any abrupt changes. It feels alarming to have him look this intensely at you. Of course, he knows what you look like. He’s seen you plenty. However, you’ve never felt as observed as you do now. Even when he eyes your legs or listens to you blab on about something unimportant, you never felt watched. Except for now. 

Suddenly feeling as if all the air in the outside world was sucked up and being sold for a billion dollars—which, of course, you can’t afford—you grow very still. You might as well never breathe again at this rate, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. You need to bring yourself back down to Earth, and hopefully bring him with you too. 

“You just always look at my legs, and I know you’re probably curious, so… I don’t know. I thought it could be fun? That sounds stupid. Um, what I mean is that we’re obviously biologically different. And not ‘cause you’re a boy and I’m girl, but because I’m a human and you’re… not. So, I thought, what better way to understand each other more than to explore each other’s bodies?” 

You definitely deserve to drown after that shit show. 

Jungwon’s mouth parts, and you’re sure it’s to call you a slew of embarrassing names, but instead he says: “You can touch my tail.” 

He makes no fuss, only maneuvering himself so he can lay himself on a rock, his tail and fins resting across the jetty. He’s mostly submerged in the water, but this is the closest you’ve been to his tail. It’s actually quite pretty. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks, and in any other circumstance, the question would prompt you to joke that he’s some sort of pervert. But when he looks at you like that, eyes shiny and imploring, so gentle and sweet, you’re rendered silent. You almost wish you could take him home with you. You don’t almost wish, you do wish it, but that would be impossible. 

“Hell yeah,” you say, beginning to rip off your shorts to reveal your bikini bottoms that you always wear in case you decide today is the day you swim around with Jungwon. Show him a little freestyle or breast stroke! Well, you guess today is the day. 

You slide into the small wedge of space next to Jungwon, not quite sitting across from him, but hovering between his fins and torso. Your knee bumps against his waist, murmuring a quick sorry, as he helps guide you into the water. The water is cold, but that’s not why you have goosebumps. 

He holds your elbow gently, only letting go once he’s sure you’re steady and comfortable. He looks at you, waiting and expecting, eyes drifting between your own and your hands that hold your legs close to your body. 

Unbeknownst to you as to why, but you’re nervous. You’ve never been this close to Jungwon before, and you’ve certainly never seen his body this well. 

Usually he keeps himself fairly submerged, the water distorting his tail and creating hypnotizing lines across his chest. If he’s not submerged, he’s laying with his back facing upwards, which, of course, you don’t mind. His back is nice. It’s broad. And very muscular. And defined. Some might even say sexy. But you're beginning to like the idea of seeing his torso too.

He keeps one hand resting on his stomach, the other resting on a rock near your shoulder. He’s really good looking. Really good looking, like, go-to-war-for-that-face good looking. To make matters worse, he’s still looking at your complexion, watching your every move, reassuring himself that you’re not uncomfortable. 

“You don’t have to…” he whispers, chuckling slightly. He’s not sure why he whispers, but he feels that if he should speak any louder, this moment between you would be broken. And Jungwon definitely wants to preserve this moment for as long as he can. 

“I want to, just,” you sigh, eyes drifting from his tail to his face. He looks at you with such interest that you almost begin to thank the sea for giving you your very own pearl. “I’m shy.” 

He giggles, leaning a bit closer to you. “You're shy?” 

You nod. “I’m shy.” 

He hums again, a sound so melodic you finally understand why you almost dove into the water for him that first night. His smile is sweet and soft as he taps your shoulder mercifully. “Come here,” he says, taking your smaller hand in his. “I’ll do it with you.”

He pulls your hand under the cool water, directing it towards the top of his tail. It’s nothing like you imagined. You pictured it to be a bit rougher—sort of like when you run your hands along those color changing sequin pillows; it’s nothing like that. It’s smoother than you expected, only a small ridge felt whenever you glide your hand upwards along the scales. He stays very still, almost not breathing for the sake of not scaring you off. 

Your hand creeps a bit higher, towards his hips and his abs instinctively flex. He hopes you don’t notice, but of course you do. Thank god you’re already in the water or else another kind of wetness would be quite noticeable. 

You decide to leave him alone, noticing the curl of his lips that he only gets when he’s a little embarrassed and agree to focus your attention on the fin that rests next to your torso. It’s quite large, certainly larger than your head. The blue becomes lighter, more of a sky blue than the royal blue that stripes along his side, as it fans along the length of his fin. The tips of his fin curl gently inwards, more like a dolphin than the pet goldfish you had growing up. It’s cute. 

“You can relax, you know,” you huff a giggle, catching his eyes as he watches your every movement. 

Jungwon releases whatever breath he was holding, a nervous laugh following soon after. His hands finding your calf, the same one he scratched weeks ago. He traces the faint scar with his nail, a whisper of a touch that you’re no longer intimidated by. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. Of course, you nod. 

You two stay like that for awile: in the silence, feeling along each other. His hands glide over your skin, and yours slide along his scales. A new exploration that you’re sure millions would die to experience, and not even because he’s a creature of myths but because he’s so undeniably handsome it kind of makes you wonder if he’s even real. 

A slight tug on your pinky toe pulls you out of your admiration, squirming a bit as he tickles your foot unintentionally. “What does this even do?” he says, bringing your foot right in front of his face. “It’s so small.” 

“It’s supposed to help with balance or something,” you chuckle. He rotates your ankle in all the ways it can go, mesmerized by the flexibility of a singular joint. 

“How? It’s so tiny.” 

You fail to suppress a giggle as his finger runs along the sole of your foot, causing your leg to kick out a nearly hit him in the face. He narrowly escapes—another—black eye, wrestling your leg back into the water and pressing it between his ribs and arm, as if it were a sea snake trying to attack him. 

“What?” 

“It tickles.” 

He snorts, eyes carving into sweet crescent moons that shine even under the bright sun. “You don’t see me complaining," he says, a slight snobiness in his voice. Certainly you couldn’t have taught him that. 

“I’m sorry,” you reply, insincerely. “Am I hurting you?” you question, a bit more genuine than your previous statement as you readjust the strength with which you were touching his tail. 

Jungwon shakes his head, beginning to run his hand up and down your knee, clearly captivated by the jut of bone that protrudes when it bends. “You could never hurt me,” he reassures softly. 

“I literally kicked you in the face that one time,” you scoff. 

He smiles cutely, his dimples putting on a pretty show just for you. “Better than being slapped with a fin,” he replies, making a face to show you that he’s definitely been slapped by a fin before and it definitely hurt. 

The more you know Jungwon, the better his speech becomes. But because Jungwon sometimes doesn’t recognize certain words that you say, you suspect that this is the first time he’s had to learn another language; only to discover that he’s fluent in several languages, some human and some not. Apparently, there are nearly a thousand different merfolk dialects, all of which are easy to pick up for other merfolk. 

“Wait, I want to try.” 

“You’re not going to be able to understand,” Jungwon says plainly, peeking one eye open as he rests his head on his arms. You guess he also gets sleepy in the morning. 

“Try me.” 

Jungwon sits up, making room for your legs as you scooch forward and dip your feet into the water. He narrows his eyes at you, their pretty, round shape becoming taunting slits as he contemplates if this is a secret he wants to let you in on. 

“Fine,” he sighs, ignoring it when your ankle bumps against his hip, instead wrapping his fingers around it as if to anchor himself. 

“I’m actually really smart, Jungwon. I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” you scoff. 

He giggles, the sun bouncing off of his eyes and warming them to a thrilling degree. “Maybe because you said swordfish and barracuda’s are basically the same thing,” he explains. 

“Key word: basically,” you groan, flicking water at him with your foot. He barely flinches. “C’mon! I want to learn.” 

Jungwon sighs, splashing a little bit of water against your leg since he can never let you win before he speaks. Whatever the hell he says, you can’t even begin to guess. It’s a series of clicks, whistles, and purrs—a language so fluid and ancient that it's pointless to try to follow. It pours from his mouth just like a quiet stream, a sound so wise and inviting. It’s a short sentence, whatever it is that he says, and he looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide and shiny just like the early morning waves. He almost looks shy. 

You’re breathless. 

“Does that mean ‘I want more gummy bears’ or something?” you guess, which causes Jungwon to laugh so loudly you’re afraid your secret might be shared. “Seriously, what does that mean?” 

He hums, and you almost think it’s another phrase in his mother tongue before he sends you that cheeky smile. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand,” he smiles. 

You want to wipe that dimple off his face. Or better yet, steal it and put it in your pocket. “I hate you,” you groan, wiping your hands down your face in frustration. “Can’t you just tell me?” 

He hums again. “I'll tell you when you’re ready.” 

—

After a while, the morning schedule grew to be a bit too demanding. You and Jungwon kept falling asleep, often waking up covered in brine and suntanned limbs that weren’t always yours, but welcome nonetheless. However, because of your unexpected slumber, you began to miss the time you spent talking with him. Turns out, Jungwon did too, as he’s the one to suggest that you two meet up later in the day, when the beach goers return home for dinner. You couldn’t have come up with a better plan yourself. 

After spending the day in the blazing sun with your friends, shopping in an outdoor mall and spending all of the weekly budget you set aside for yourself, you’re more than happy to jump into the water for a swim in your new bikini. 

Jungwon watches you as you leisurely paddle about, ignoring as his eyes burn your skin despite the refreshing water. He pushes off the jetty and glides over to you, his tail trailing behind him much more gracefully than your flailing legs. And it’s not even that you’re a bad swimmer—you’re actually pretty decent—but next to Jungwon, you might as well be a piece of plastic floating next to a sweet little jellyfish. 

“Let me help,” he says, reaching for your hands as he begins to notice you growing tired of treading water. 

You push him with no real force, trying to swim away playfully as if your muscles aren’t begging for some reprieve. “I can swim fine, thank you,” you insist, kicking water up in hopes of annoying him. 

But Jungwon, ever the most patient, doesn’t give in. “I know you can swim fine,” he reassures. “But still, let me help you.” 

He doesn’t wait for your response before tugging you towards him by your ankle. You flip on your back, floating helplessly in the water as he holds your foot to his chest. He’s warm, unlike most sea creatures—at least, you assume—letting you feel the steady drum of his heart under the sole of your foot. It picks up slightly when you flash him a breathless smile, but you choose to ignore it for his sake. He can get quite bashful, you’ve begun to learn after the countless times you've caught him staring. 

“You caught me,” you sigh, deciding to relax and let him take over. This is his domain after all. 

He lightly pulls you towards him, letting go of your foot and instead hooking his arms around your waist. You drape your arms over his broad shoulders, trying your hardest not to think about how sturdy he feels under your palms. The flex of his shoulder muscle was definitely tempting—dare you say delicious—but alas, one must persist! 

“I caught you,” he smiles, so close that your noses almost brush. However, it only lasts a brief second before he blushes and turns away, pretending there is something far more interesting on the left of you. You’re sure that the seagull that has been floating a few yards away for the last five minutes is not more captivating than you—if his glances are anything to go by—but you’ll ignore it. For now. “Relax. I got you.” 

And relax, you do. Your arms and legs are spent from swimming around. So much for cooling off! Resting your head on Jungwon’s shoulder, you let the water decorating his skin cool the heat bubbling in your face. You hope he’s too absorbed in whatever it is he’s staring at to notice. 

It doesn’t matter if he does notice anyway, you think. It’s not like anything would come of it. Seriously, he’s a whole different creature. There’s no world in which that could possibly fly. But for now, you’ll enjoy what you have and make the most of it. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, more worried that he’s now holding up your entire bodyweight rather than your proximity to one another. 

He nods, tucking his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. You’re sure you smell like the sea, but you’re also sure that he doesn’t mind. He literally lives in the ocean. “I like being close to you,” he says, as if it isn’t the most devastating thing for you to hear. But before you can even open your mouth to ask what he means, he swerves towards a different conversation. “What do you do when you’re not here with me?” 

You lean back, now met with those same pair of eyes that consistently sweep you off your feet—literally. Jungwon leans away from you too, eyes flickering back and forth like he can’t decide where he would prefer to focus. It’s cute. 

“Depends,” you reply, pushing his wet hair away from his forehead. He attempts to swat your hand away but fails. It’s not like he was really trying either way. “Sometimes I work, sometimes I go to my parents’ house. Most of the time, I’m with my friends if I’m not with you.” 

“What are your parents like?” 

“My mom’s cool,” you answer. You like when he asks you questions like this. It makes you feel like you can bring a piece of him with you when you leave the beach—almost as if he’s a regular human man and you’re a regular woman, just hanging out with her friend. Friend? Situationship? No. That sounds stupid. “My dad is kind of weird, though. I don’t know if you two would get along.” 

Jungwon cocks his head to the side, confused. “Why not?” 

You shrug, trying to think of the least creepy way to confess that your dad is very obsessed with sea creatures. “He just is.” 

That’ll have to do. Jungwon nods, although he seems unsatisfied. 

“What about your parents?” 

Jungwon sighs, his fingers tracing swirls along the small of your back. It tickles, but you don’t mind. A funny look crosses his face, as if he’s hiding something from you, but you won’t pry. You like watching him think. Whenever Jungwon is deep in thought, he tends to purse his lips in a perfectly kissable way and look up towards the sky, as if the clouds will sketch out the answer for him. It never works, and he always ends up having to use his brain power instead. It’s still endearing nonetheless. 

“My mom and dad are a little afraid of humans,” he admits. “They wouldn’t understand why I like spending time with you so much.” 

“Oh,” you nod slowly, digesting this new information. Afraid of humans. “Why?” 

“I don’t know how to put it,” he confesses, tugging you a little closer like he’s worried you’ll back away if he says the wrong thing. You begin to draw the same pattern on his shoulder, and that seems to calm him a little if the swish of his tail is anything to go by. “I guess it’s just unfamiliarity. The only times they interact are typically on a full moon, and that’s usually a dangerous time for both of us. I guess I’m lucky that you’re the only human I know.” 

You shoot him a bewildered look, one that stops him cold. “Why is it dangerous?” 

The swirls on your back stop, and Jungwon’s spine grows rigid, every bit the animal side of him you’re very well aware of whenever he asserts his strength over you or you catch sight of the gills on his side. “Let’s talk about something else.” 

You nod, looking away from his suddenly stoic expression. Dangerous? You can understand why humans and merfolk don’t interact much for a series of reasons—fishing, poaching, oil spills… Besides, you’re not too sure humans would be all too kind to merfolk if they were to spot one in broad daylight. However, during the full moon? Why hadn’t he mentioned that to you before? It has been nearly a month since you’ve known Jungwon, and you’ve seen him nearly every day since that fateful night—safe for maybe twice when you caught a bizarre summer flu. Would he have told you if it weren’t for this conversation? 

“What do you like to do with your friends?” he asks, trying to catch your eyes. 

You flinch, suddenly scaring yourself with all of the possibilities of what his previous statement might mean. But when you look into his eyes, deeper than twilight, you know that he would never hurt you. Sure, he’s stronger. He’s faster. His nails are kind of sharp, and some of his teeth file into a point. However, he’s always been gentle with you. Soft spoken and kind. The sweetest out of anyone or anything you’ve ever met. And suddenly, you feel like crying for ever doubting Jungwon’s care for you. He always remembers everything you say, and asks questions the best he can, even if he doesn’t understand. He listens like it’s his lifeline, his duty, and watches you closely to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or aren’t growing tired of spending time with him. You think he might be the nicest person you’ve ever met, despite giving you that scar on your calf. But it’s something to remember him by; it’s a piece of him you can take with you. You know him, and he sure as hell knows you. 

Reaching upwards, you delicately trace the underside of his jaw. His eyes widen slightly, shocked by your bold movement, but he melts into it as if he can’t help it. You wish you could watch him melt over and over again. He leans into your hand, chasing the touch and sighs, an airy sound that you would totally make fun of him for if you weren’t also completely invested in this moment. 

“Talk. Just like we do,” you answer simply, poking the small freckle on the side of his chin. 

He smiles softly, holding you even tighter if possible. “I hope you don’t talk with them exactly like how we talk,” he huffs, pouting. 

God, you could kiss it off. Focus!

“Not exactly,” you reassure, allowing your eyes to wander to his mouth for a split second. You hope the triangle method hasn’t also infected the seven seas, and that the merfolk when Jungwon comes from are unaware of what it could mean. “We go out to eat, go to parties… sleepovers,” you sigh. “I like spending time with you more, though.” 

Jungwon hopes you can’t notice, but he thinks his heart just skipped a beat before slamming against his ribcage. “Really?” he wonders. 

You nod shyly, entranced by every small curve and line of his face. Jungwon follows your lead, examining every detail that makes you whole, and pretending as if he hasn’t been discreetly doing that the entire time. 

One thing about you is that you’re usually always very composed. Very focused. He never watches your eyes wander, whereas he can’t seem to stop looking at you. He loves watching the way your lips form when you talk, when you smile, and he loves watching you think and nap and swim—despite it looking kind of funny to him—and how you breathe. Nothing you could do would be boring to him. You’re always interesting. He wonders how you do it. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks abruptly, as if he doesn’t see you every day. 

You look at him, almost solemn. Tracing his jaw again, you allow yourself to relish in the comfort of him before you burst this little bubble you two have created for yourselves. 

“I’m out all day, and then the girls are coming over to mine,” you groan, almost annoyed at the fact that you do have a life outside of swimming and lazing around with Jungwon. “Yunjin’s cousin Chaewon broke up with her partner finally, and we’re going to get drunk to celebrate her leaving that awful man.” 

“Drunk?” 

“That funny way I was acting when we first met,” you explain, now gliding your finger tips across his collarbone. It’s so dainty. You wonder how someone that strong could also seem so delicate. “It happens when you drink something called alcohol.” 

He nods slowly, downtrodden. You can tell he’s upset that he won’t be able to see you tomorrow, and he knows that you can tell too. It’s not often that you two skip a day from seeing each other. 

You hug him closer, tucking yourself into the crook of his neck. Jungwon hugs you back, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other arm cradles your head against him. You could so easily kiss his neck if you wanted. It’s right there, and your lips are practically pressed against it. But you can’t, and you won’t. 

Pulling away, you point to your house—white with the porch and baby blue shutters—that sits in a row of houses that look down on the beach from their cliffside perch. He follows your finger, nearly pressing his cheek to yours to make sure he’s following the correct eyeline. 

“That’s my house. Just look over there if you ever miss me, okay?” you tell him. He stares at your house for a good while, memorizing its shape and the houses neighboring yours. 

“Okay,” he nods, looking to you once he feels it’s been sufficiently ingrained in his mind. “Maybe I’ll show up for this ‘break-up’ celebration.” 

You snort. “As if.” 

—

You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of having fun right now.

Everyone’s on their second glass of wine, snacks and candy thrown across your coffee table to fuel the gossip of tonight’s gathering. Your friends are all screaming and giggling, cozily lounging about in their pajamas. And you hate to admit it, you really do, but you’re having a blast. 

Of course, you missed seeing Jungwon today. You had a comically horrible shift at your job today that you would’ve loved to tell him about, but there’s always tomorrow! Maybe you have grown a little too attached to him. Although you’ve seen your friends heaps of times over this summer, your mind has always been somewhere else—somewhere where Jungwon is present. 

But now, as Chaewon explains how she found her ex’s Tinder profile and how she confronted him, you’re okay with Jungwon taking a back seat for now. You have your girls. They have you. All is well. 

“And then, when I confronted him about it, this motherfucker had the audacity to blame it on me!” Chaewon all but shrieks as she slams her hands down on your coffee table, rattling the array of wine glasses you snagged from the back of your cupboard. All of you gasp, shoveling popcorn and sour gummies into your mouths as you lean in, fully invested. “He tried to tell me that if I listened to him more whenever he talked about his dumb fucking video games, then he wouldn’t have cheated. Bitch, if you had given me better head, maybe I would’ve been more inclined to listen!”  

Lara howls with laughter, as Yunjin and Daniela run a lap around your living room to calm themselves down. You damn near choke on your wine, letting the rosé warm your cheeks. You’re happy. 

But you’re even happier to hear the doorbell ring for pizza. 

“Fucking finally!” Yunjin exclaims, reclaiming her spot on your couch next to her cousin. “I’m starving.” 

“Thank fuck—they got here early,” you say, not even bothering to check the Uber Eats status on your phone. You hop up from your spot on the rug, shuffling down the hallway towards your front door. Peaking into the bathroom, stationed right next to the door, you check to make sure you don’t look too flustered—just in case this is someone you remember from high school and want to impress for some reason. After deciding your hair looks voluminous and your tits sit great in your tank top, you decide you’re certainly presentable enough to face this pizza delivery man. 

However, upon opening the door, you realize that there is no pizza delivery man. In fact, there isn’t even a pizza. 

You recognize his eyes first. Hell, you’d recognize those eyes out of a billion. You could’ve been blinded by the sun, scorched by acid, and hit by a car before you wouldn’t be able to recognize them. However, caught off guard by being face to face with a pair of eyes you’re familiar with, it takes your brain a few seconds to register one very crucial factor: you’ve never seen these eyes other than at the beach. 

You aren’t at the beach. You’re at your house. 

Not only are you at your house, but your house is up a hill. One needs legs to walk up a hill, or anything for that matter. So why would these pair of eyes, one that you’re both very elated and very confused to see, be at your front door step? Oh, only for one reason of course!

Jungwon has sprung fucking legs. 

“Hi,” he smiles shyly. 

A bodily reaction that one could only describe as both becoming a human rocket and rigor mortis occurs within you all at once. Your body shakes so violently that you’ve gone still. You’re practically frozen. Mouth opening and closing rather quickly, you struggle to find the words you need to be able to articulate how you feel in this very moment. Jungwon seems pleased. He even has the nerve to giggle a little bit as he watches your brain work over time. 

Part of you wants to think you were roofied. Why would you have been roofied? You don’t know, not that there is ever a justifiable reason to be roofied. But maybe your friends slipped something to you that you didn’t second guess enough—maybe an edible? Yes. It has to be an edible. Why else would you be picturing Jungwon on your front step with fucking legs? Did you seriously miss him that bad? How pathetic! 

But when Yunjin shouts for you to hurry up with the pizza, you realize this is no bad trip and this is no hallucination. Jungwon is here—at your front door—with legs. And he’s fucking naked. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you scream, all of the neurons in your brain suddenly firing all at once. 

Jungwon yelps as you tug him inside, stumbling over his feet—feet that you’re not entirely sure he knows how to work yet—as you shove him into your bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind him, you run to your bedroom, ignoring the concerned looks of your friends as you nearly wipe out while turning the corner. 

Shuffling through your drawers and closet, you eventually find a pair of sweatpants that you snagged from an ex-boyfriend and a top that you’re sure your dad gave to you as a sleep shirt if the sheer enormity of it is enough to go by. Hopefully, it’ll fit Jungwon. Although, it seems that he has absolutely no problem with being in the fucking nude. 

Wait. He was naked. 

You were so surprised to see him that you barely had a chance to recognize the severity of the situation. Not only could your neighbors have seen some random man—although not random to you—standing on your front porch, but they might have seen him butt-fucking-naked. Thankfully, he had the decency to not fully expose himself. At least, you think.

You rush back to the front bathroom before any of your friends can catch onto the problem at hand. You fling the door open, Jungwon practically plastered against the wall as he looks at you and the clothes in your hands. Glancing towards the ceiling in hopes of giving him some privacy, you offer him the clothes. 

“I don’t really have anything else for you to wear, and you can’t be fucking naked in front of me,” you say. 

Jungwon just stares at the clothes, confused. You shake your hands aggressively, and he eventually takes it, trying his best to figure out how to put the clothes on. 

Jungwon tries to stick his foot through one of the holes, but he ends up losing his balance and nearly crashing to the floor. You manage to catch his arm and tug him up straight, but not before he knocks over a soap bottle and a couple of decorative items on the bathroom sink. 

“Shh!” you hush, accidentally glancing down in attempts to see if he had hurt himself at all. But upon catching a glimpse of the skin on his thigh, your eyes shoot straight back upwards. “My friends will hear you.” 

Eventually, he does okay with the pants, only stumbling a few times. He finds his balance by gripping the sink counter and is able to get his feet through the sweatpants, wriggling them up over his new legs. Finally looking away from the ceiling, you come face to face with a flustered and bashful Jungwon. Fuck, maybe you did miss him. 

“Hi. Sorry,” he whispers, smiling like the situation is funny. And to him, it is. He hasn’t seen you lose your cool this bad since the first time he met you, and he couldn’t even register how out of character that was because he didn’t know you then. Now he knows you. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, handing the shirt back to you. 

“Oh,” you blink, taking the cotton fabric in your hands. You bunch the fabric up towards the neck, standing on your toes so you can tug it over his head. His face pops right out, giving you a sheepish grin. For the first time since he’s stepped foot on your property, you return the favor. You guide his arms through the sleeves, the t-shirt sitting quite comfortably on his broad frame. The pants are a little long, sweeping the floor a bit whenever he shuffles about, but it’ll do. For anyone else, they’ll think it’s a fashion choice. “Do… Do these feel okay? Are you comfortable?” 

He looks down towards the clothes he’s managed to put on, gaze returning to your face as quickly as it left. “I think so,” he nods. “I don’t really know what they’re supposed to feel like.” 

“Right,” you say, because, really, what else is there to say? 

You finally take a good look at Jungwon, now that he’s dressed and you feel like you have permission to ogle a bit. He’s dry, for starters. No matter how long he suns himself, it seems like his hair is always wet. Now it’s… well… dry. It doesn’t seem to be damaged from the copious amounts of salt water that have touched it over the years; it seems quite soft and much longer than you originally thought as he blows a strand away from his forehead. He’s taller than you, and you’re not sure why that surprises you. His tail was quite long. But that was a tail. Not legs. His shoulders are broad, that of which you already knew, but seeing them hidden by the silly shirt draping his frame is sort of driving you crazy. You miss them. “How… what…?” 

He sighs and takes a shaky step towards you. Instinctively, you reach your arms out to prevent him from falling but he just wraps his arms around you, simple and plain. His heart raps wildly against his chest, and it’s probably due to the excitement of the day but you selfishly hope it’s for you. 

“Jungwon, how the fuck did you get here?” you mumble into the t-shirt, not quite ready to let go just yet. You hate to admit it, but perhaps your heart is also pumping a bit faster than usual. And perhaps it’s because of him.  

“My friend told me a story,” he starts, pulling away from you so he can look into your eyes. He’s beaming. “That some merfolk can turn into humans. So I tried it, and it works!” he grins, shaking your shoulders in excitement. “Not everyone can do it, apparently. But I can!” 

You look down at his legs. “I can’t believe you’re a fucking human.” 

“I’m a fucking human!” he shouts, nearly toppling over from sheer excitement. “Now I can see you all the time.” His eyes are so sincere and your heart nearly bursts. 

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling ear to ear. “You can.” 

Just then, a knock sounds from the door behind you and Jungwon practically jumps out of his skin.

“Who the fuck is in the bathroom with you?!” Yunjin shrieks. 

Riiight, my friends are here, you think. Shit. 

—

Explaining Jungwon to the girls was a lot easier than you thought it was going to be. Of course, you didn’t tell the truth. That wouldn’t go over well. But what they won’t know, won’t kill them. After successfully explaining to them that Jungwon was a friend from school who surprised you by coming into town, they were more than accepting of his presence. After all, a cute boy showing up on your door step for an impromptu visit? They’re just happy you’re back in the dating game—or so they think. 

It’s funny seeing Jungwon sit amongst your friends, the stillness in a sea of tipsy giggles. Jungwon stays quiet most of the time, eagerly listening to all of their stories, but mostly enthralled by the amount of human snacks he now easily has at his disposal. 

When everyone leaves, and you’re all alone with him, you’re not quite sure of what to do. Considering you’ve been alone with him many times before, it’s almost comical. But now he’s in your house. He’s human. Both are facts that you never thought would actually be true. 

You stay up with him for a long time after your friends leave. Still shocked as you watch the young man curled up in the corner of your couch, fascinated by the way his toes wiggle and scrunch. He quickly learns the art of footsies, as he can’t help but touch you, even as the two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch. And although you’re not exactly a fan of feet, you don’t mind entertaining a game of footsies as long as it’s with Jungwon. 

He’s amazed by the TV, eyes reflecting purple and red and all kinds of neon as he does his best to absorb the new information he’s receiving. It’s like a speed course on human behavior. Eventually, you have to turn off the television so he’ll pay attention to you, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll just have to watch more of this another time if you let him. 

Upon intense questioning, Jungwon reiterates what he told you earlier but in greater detail. His friend, Sunghoon, had told him of a long forgotten, and seemingly taboo, tale of how some merfolk could walk on land. He said it was a trend centuries ago, before the oceans had been polluted by human behavior. It was seen as a form of entertainment. Sometimes it was done for pleasure. However, once humans began to destroy the sea with their many devices, merfolk stopped trying to blend in with and learn from humans. It was too hazardous. 

Jungwon shares that he tried to gather more information, asking his elders if it was possible for merfolk to become human but the conversation was always shut down. It wasn’t until his grandmother indulged in a secret that her grandmother used to be a land walker. That she would bathe herself in light and join the humans at her leisure. She warned that that was ages ago; times have changed. However, this meant that he also had the ability to do the same. 

He followed his grandmother's instructions, finding a quiet and safe place to bathe in the sun. According to him, it took awhile. But once the sun was set, he had begun to sprung legs. 

“Was it painful?” you asked, rubbing your foot along his calf. 

Jungwon shakes his head slowly, watching the movement of your leg. “It was sort of uncomfortable. But it's not painful.” 

He shares how he practiced walking, deciding to disguise himself in the dark of night to prevent anyone from seeing him. Just in case, he said. He said it was hard, and how he’s not sure how humans are able to do it so easily. Or how they’re able to run! That’s a whole new challenge, but he’s willing to learn. 

“I remember you pointed to where your house was, and I just tried my best to walk there,” he said, now moving to be closer to you. He’s still trying to understand that his legs get in the way, so after his knee digs into your leg uncomfortably, he shifts to tuck his legs beneath himself. “I was really tired but when I saw you, I couldn’t feel it anymore,” he smiles, slightly taller than you from the way he’s perched. “I was so happy to see you.” 

“I was so surprised,” you confess, covering your cheeks out of exasperation. Your face heats under his grin. 

“You looked kind of silly,” he laughs. Jungwon drops his jaw and widens his eyes cartoonishly, making fun of your reaction. 

You shove him over, causing him to fall onto his back and kick his feet up in the air. He narrowly misses you, but you don’t mind. You’re too happy to have him with you. 

In the middle of your conversation, Jungwon passes out, sprawled across your couch in a way you’ve never seen a human body positioned before. It’s his first day as a human, so you decide to cut him some slack. Wrapping him in a blanket, as well as leaving an extra—in case he gets cold—you trudge to your bedroom and miss him despite him existing in the next room. 

Early the next morning, while Jungwon is still asleep, you rush out to the store to pick up a few things. As handsome as he is, he cannot live in those ratty sweatpants forever. Guessing what his size might be, you pick up a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts that you think he might like. You try to stick to softer material, not wanting to irritate his skin. You’ve also never had to buy underwear for a man before, but hopefully you did a good job. Nobody has ever gone wrong with Calvin Klein. Besides, the idea of seeing the waistband of his underwear poking of the top of his pants kind of makes your nipples—

Jungwon is wide awake when you get home. Hair still mussed from sleep, but he figured out how to get the television working—it’s set to some old movie that you’re not sure you’ve seen. However, he seems transfixed. He rises from his spot, walking much more steadily than yesterday as he greets you with a hug. He smells like the breeze and sleep and something you want to have by your side forever. 

He watches you cook breakfast, clinging to your side like he’s afraid you might leave again. It’s cute, despite how warm he is. You two eat breakfast on your porch, discussing your plans for the day and asking if he’d like to join. Of course, Jungwon would be insane to say no. 

After breakfast, you show him his clothes and force him to do a fashion show for you. He doesn’t quite understand why you're so excited, but he’d do anything to make you smile. 

“Do you like it?” you ask, sitting on the edge of your bed as he struts about your room. 

He looks down at the shirt and jeans he has on, shrugging absentmindedly. He thinks they’re fine. It’s not like he knows what would look good. He feels like he’s kind of dressed like the guy he saw on your TV not too long ago, and he thought he was cool. But besides that, he doesn’t really know what would look good on him. What he does know is that you look good. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, biting down a smile as your eyes rake over his frame three times over. He likes the way you clasp your hands on your lap, doing your best to be polite and patient although he knows you are fighting demons to not shout out your opinion. He also quite likes the crinkle that forms in the corner of your eyes as you try your best not to giggle. He very much likes that he can see the curve of your tits over the hem of your top as you clasp your hands even tighter. He’s not sure if he can tell you that though. He’ll have to watch more television to see if that’s something that is okay to say to a girl. 

“It’s nice,” is what Jungwon settles on telling you, and you smile even brighter than he thought possible. He could get used to this. 

You decide to take him around town for the day, deciding fresh air and social interaction is just what Jungwon needs in order to understand human behavior. He is more than thrilled to be involved. You can practically hear your father nagging you for housing merfolk, especially after his near death experience. But Jungwon would never do that to you. 

He had no idea that there were so many places—stores, you call them—where humans could buy things. He’s entranced by the grocery store, amazed by the selection of gummies that he now has access to. The concept of not touching everything he sees is a bit new to him, and you have to inform him that people tend to find it quite rude if you touch every single fruit in the produce section. However, always the avid listener, he follows your instructions until they become second nature. 

Jungwon is shocked by your ability to stay focused in such lively places. There’s so much noise—much different from the quiet roar of the sea. He’s surprised to hear you talk about how quiet your town is, and how there are even busier areas where humans live called the city. He’s not sure if he could survive living in a place like that.

There are also so many formalities. Saying please and thank you and no, you go ahead to every small interaction. He’s fascinated with your ability to memorize all these small things. Maybe, one day, he’ll be a master of them too. 

You take him out to eat, just at some small diner not too far from your house. He lets you pick something for him to eat, since he’s still not all that familiar with human food. The waitress is nice, but he thinks you’re nicer—laughing at all his jokes and smiling softly while he rambles about what his favorite part of the day was so far. You hate to say it, but you’re completely enamoured by him. 

You enjoy how he purses his lips when he finds something you say amusing, but doesn’t quite want to announce it. He likes how you play with your earlobe when you get shy. Small things. He barely even realizes how hungry he is until the food arrives, he’s too preoccupied with you. But he thinks maybe his second favorite thing—you being first—is human food. The burger you ordered him seems to be quite a hit. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a person eat that fast, not even half of your meal finished before he cleans the entirety of his plate. Jungwon isn’t very picky, it seems. 

The days pass by like this, quietly but comfortably. Jungwon slowly learns more and more about what it means to be human, the behaviors and the mentality. You see him grow more comfortable out in the open, no longer adhered to your side, and more willing to try things on his own. 

Despite his growing independence, the two of you grow closer than before, if that’s even possible. He helps you cook and clean, entertaining you with silly stories or questions that you can’t help but answer. It’s domestic. You even bring him into work one day, letting him sit in the back with a movie on your laptop while you bore yourself to death. Jungwon never seems to mind. He never complains. If anything, he’s just happy to be with you. 

Jungwon only lasts one more night on your couch. By the third night, he comes shuffling into your room, lightly rapping against the door right as you’re about to fall asleep. Flinching awake, you turn on your lamp as you squint at the young man standing in your doorway. He stands there awkwardly, scratching his neck in embarrassment. 

“What’s wrong, Jungwon? Are you okay?” you mumble, drowsiness laced in your voice. 

He nods quickly, not wanting to worry you. “I”m okay. I’m okay. I just-” he huffs, shifting his weight repeatedly. You can tell he’s searching for the words, whether he has them or not, you’re not sure. Sometimes you wish you could speak his language, maybe it would make it easier for you to understand him. “I don’t want to sleep on the couch.” 

This stuns you. This might be the first time you’ve heard him complain. 

“Why? Is it uncomfortable?” you ask, sitting up. The neck of your sleep shirt slides down one shoulder and Jungwon’s eyes follow the movement. “I can give you some extra pillows if you want.” 

“No, it’s not uncomfortable,” he replies, shaking his head once again. You can see him grow more hesitant by the second, playing with his fingers as he tries to decipher what would be the most appropriate phrasing. He’s not sure how to communicate what he wants from you. None of the movies he’s studied over the past few days have shown him how to do this. 

“What’s up, Jungwon?” you ask once again, your eyes softening. 

Jungwon grows weak, melting into the warmth of your gaze. He feels a heat stir in his lower stomach that he’s still trying to navigate with his new body. Finally, after rationalizing that you’ve never seriously berated him for any of his thoughts or questions, he decides to bite the bullet. “Can I sleep in your bed?” 

“Oh!” you gasp, shocked by his forwardness. “Like… you want to swap?” 

He shakes his head at your misunderstanding. “No!” he damn near shouts. “I was thinking we could share?” 

His suggestion makes your toes curl and a giggle bubbles up from your stomach. Feeling like a school girl again, you nod slowly, lifting the covers for him to join you. He quickly shuffles over, a shy smile spreading across his pink lips like frosting. You wish you could kiss it and have it stain your mouth. He slides under your covers, pulling them right up to his chin. It was hard for him to imagine something as comfortable as this, having only slept on the couch for the last few nights. Now he knows. 

“Why’d you want to sleep in here?” you ask, shutting the light off as you lie back down. “You can be honest and tell me that the couch was uncomfortable. I got it second hand.” 

You can hear the pillow case rustle underneath his head as he denies your comment. “Just missed you is all,” he admits. 

Suddenly, it’s as if all the air is sucked out of the room and you’re left pleading for oxygen. “But I’m only one room away,” you chuckle breathlessly, knowing that you subconsciously—or consciously—have been missing him in your sleep as well. 

“I know,” he says, moving closer to you. He can feel your body heat interacting with his, absorbing and morphing into something new entirely. “Still missed you, though.” 

Jungwon sleeps with you every night after that. And every night, you rest easier and more deeply than you ever have. 

You show him all kinds of things. Your favorite TV shows, the mall, and even the gym. However, you had to leave as soon as some man approached you and asked for your number. Jungwon didn’t seem to take much pleasure in the idea of other men approaching you. 

“I was literally right there,” he pouted as he sat in the front seat of your car. “I don’t get why he would even approach you when I was there.” 

You smile fondly, reaching over to rub his shoulder. He seems to calm down at your touch. “Maybe he thought you were just a friend.” 

Jungwon whips his head to the side. If it were biologically possible, you would believe that his eyes grew ten shades darker. Apparently, you need to make a mental note to never say something so supposedly ludicrous to Jungwon ever again. “I’m yours,” he says. 

Whatever that means. 

To make up for the fiasco that happened at the gym, you decide to take Jungwon to a place you figured he’d really like: the carnival. 

Lara has been bugging you all week, blowing up your phone incessantly and asking if you’d join her and some of your friends at the carnival this weekend. Usually, you’d try to ditch. The carnival has occurred every summer since you were little, and you’re sure it started way before that. With overpriced tickets, overpriced food, and overpriced games, you typically try to avoid the carnival altogether and save your wallet from the damage you will inevitably suffer. However, after seeing Jungwon’s eyes light up at the thought, you decided—after very little contemplation—that attending said overpriced carnival wouldn’t be awful.

Your friends are surprised to see Jungwon, considering they thought he was only supposed to stay with you for a few days, but are happy nonetheless. They drag him every which way, encouraging him to throw darts at balloons and make the tiny tea cup he manages to squeeze into spin as fast as he can. Surprisingly, he does very well with being tossed and spun around—it must do with his exposure to relentless sea currents. However, after experiencing a severe case of vertigo, you manage to convince your friends to take it easy on the rides and sit down for a while. 

“Having fun?” you ask Jungwon, sipping on a lemonade. It’s more water than lemon and sugar, but it’s cool and helps bring you back down to earth. 

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding around a bite of fried dough. The powdered sugar clings to the side of his lips and you wipe it away with your thumb. Consequently, your friends giggle from their corner of the picnic table. You can’t tell if it’s the vibrant lights of the carnival, but Jungwon’s cheeks grow a soft shade of rose. “Are you?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, snagging a piece of his snack. “I don’t usually have fun at these kinds of things, but I’m having fun with you.” 

“You don’t like carnival rides?” he asks, stealing a sip of your lemonade. He doesn’t bother to wipe the straw before or after. 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, I like them. These ones are just kind of lame. There’s much bigger ones at other places.” 

“Like in Diary of a Wimpy Kid?” 

“Exactly.” 

Jungwon nods slowly, flexing his fingers before he clasps his hands in his lap. He looks upward towards the sky, amazed at the fact that he can still see the stars through all this light. Tracing them with his eyes, he finds your silhouette in the stars. Why his family would ever want to keep him from finding and staying with you is beyond his comprehension. 

“I’d like to ride one of those rollercoasters someday,” he shares after being quiet for sometime. He’s still gazing upwards, eyes sparkling like fireworks. You stare at the dainty mole on his chin, wishing that you could press a kiss to it. If you could, you would give him the world. 

“You will,” you say, reaching for his hands. He looks at you, the sparkle in his eyes never dimming. “We’ll go.” 

Yunjin coughs obnoxiously, the rest of your friends snickering evilly. You’re going to kill them. You turn your head ever so slowly, wishing the horrific music that was playing in your head would play aloud for once so it could add to this intimidating vibe you are going for. But alas, it doesn’t, and you have to agree to shoot daggers at them with your eyes instead. 

“We’re going to go ride the ferris wheel,” she announces, standing up from the picnic bench. The other girls follow suit. “Do you want to come or are you guys going to keep acting like freaks and hold hands?” 

You roll your eyes, but when Jungwon doesn’t make a move to let go of your hand, you don’t either. Besides, your hands were getting quite cold from holding your lemonade, so really he’s just helping you out. Right? Right. 

“We’ll go, we’re just gonna clean up first. We’ll meet you there.” 

After you and Jungwon clean up the rest of the mess left on the table, you join the girls only to be yelled at by a couple for trying to cut in line. Trying your hardest to show the best side of your humanity, you drag Jungwon to the back of the line. Normally, you would have no problem cussing the girl and her unfortunate looking boyfriend out, but again, you want Jungwon to see your good side. He’s already seen you damn near belligerent and screaming for help, you might as well try to preserve what little remains of your dignity. Besides, you don’t mind being separated from your friends. It just means more one-on-one time with Jungwon. (Not like you haven’t had plenty of that over the last few days.) You’ll meet up with them once the ride is over. 

The carnival barker gestures to your car, buckling the two of you in. Jungwon rapidly pounds his feet up and down in excitement, a habit you’re not sure when he developed but you’ve grown to be affectionate towards. Your knees touch, and neither of you pull away, Jungwon enamoured with the idea of riding the ferris wheel, and you, enamoured with him. 

The ride jolts with a start, shocking Jungwon. As he flinches, he reaches for your hand, a welcomed surprise.

He babbles mindlessly, about how he’s never imagined being up this high in the air before, and how he hopes the ride doesn’t fail. He tells you how he can’t tell if he’s jittery because of the height or because of all of the sugar he just consumed, and you just laugh, squeezing his hand tighter. When your palms start to grow sweaty, neither of you mind because it’s the two of you and whatever you give, he’ll take. 

“I’m so happy right now,” he admits, smiling so wide that his eyes turn into crescent moons. You grin too, flashing him a smile as bright as the moon. 

“Me too,” you agree, squeezing his hand tighter. 

“This is so cool!” he damn near shrieks, rocking the cart a bit. You reach for the bar instinctively, eyes growing wide in a way that makes him cackle. You whack his leg, and despite the sting in his thigh, he doesn’t move away. “You can see everything up here.” 

“You think that’s our jetty?” you ask, pointing to a collection of rocks that are faintly carved out above the sea line. 

Jungwon squints, trying his best to follow your line of view. “No,” he shakes his head, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Ours would be farther that way,” he says, gesturing in some direction. 

“How do you know?” you question, squinting at the young man. 

“Because I know the ocean better than you do,” he mutters, in a voice so matter of fact you’re certain he had to pick it up from someone else because no way in hell you would teach him to speak to you like that. “Besides, I…” 

You watch Jungwon, observing how his eyes shift elsewhere, the smile in his face slipping into more of a confused gape. You call his name, wondering what has caught his attention so abruptly. Following his eyeline, you spot a car ahead of you. A couple—perhaps the one from earlier, you’re not sure—are sitting closely together, wrapped in each other's arms. Despite being multiple feet in front of you, it’s clear what they are doing, and it seems like Jungwon has also caught on. They kiss each other slowly, a passion you would hope they’d save for the privacy of their own home rather than the public eye. But as always, there has to be that couple. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, growing confused by his sudden reaction. “Do you not know what kissing is?” 

Jungwon tears his gaze from them, looking both scandaled and offended by your comment. “Of course I know what kissing is. I’m not stupid,” he scoffs, that crinkle between his brow appearing. 

“Just checking!” you shrug, not sure of what to say. You haven’t seen him this amazed by something since he first turned on the television. “I wasn’t sure if merfolk kissed or not.”

“Of course we fucking kiss!” he yelps, a slight edge to his tone that you find somewhat comical. “I’ve just… I’ve just never seen people kiss like that before,” he confesses, squeezing your palm. 

His eyes drift back to the couple, curious and imploring. You never quite thought of how merfolk kiss until now. Is it softer? Harder? Does it mean something else to them, as it means to humans? 

“I think I’d like to try though.” 

What? 

Now, if you aren’t mistaken, you recall having some knowledge of kissing under your belt. And by some, you mean a sufficient amount. You’re not one to dilly dally, and after years of drunk parties and dares, you’ve kissed enough people to probably last a lifetime. To put it plainly, you get around. However, when Jungwon looks at you like that, with his eyes all wide and shiny, you feel like you’re twelve again. You’re not sure of what to do or what to say. He would only say that if he wanted to kiss you, right? No way he meant someone else, he doesn’t even know other girls besides your friends and he only really talks to them when it comes to you. Unless he likes men? 

Jungwon calls your name, the warmth of his palm on your thigh is sudden but welcomed. He’s closer than you remember him being, but you can’t find it within yourself to back away. You can see the way his eyes crinkle slightly with a soft smile, and the way his lips curl upwards. The dimple on his cheek calls your name in a tone so sweet you feel light-headed, and you’re certain that the small giggle that slips past his lips—were they always that pretty?—is the most glorious thing you’ve ever heard. You know you’re supposed to hear the ocean if you find a conch shell and press it to your ear, but you wish you could hear his voice. 

He calls your name again and you shake your head, clearing the fog that plagues your mind. “What?” you blurt, eyes wide and glossy. Jungwon thinks you’re so pretty. 

“I want to kiss you,” he says, slow and steady but the twitch of his fingers reveal his excitement. “Is that okay?” 

You want to tell him a hundred things. You want to tell him how lucky you are to have nearly been destroyed by him that night, and if you knew then what you know now, you’re positive that you would’ve let him although you’re certain he would never hurt you. You want to tell him that you think he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen on planet Earth, and that it sucks that he’s not entirely the same species as you, and vice versa. You want to tell him that he’s your best friend, and that you truly, sincerely hope that you’re his. But all you manage to say, with severe effort, is: “Um, sure. Yeah.” 

Jungwon has kissed people. This much is true. It’s common amongst merfolk—to kiss—as they are sexual and romantic beings. He’s kissed dozens of beings, human and merfolk. He’s kissed to survive, just as he kisses to kill. However, he never knew that kissing could feel like this. 

He leans in slowly, feeling you practically melt against him the second his lips touch yours. The first thing he realizes is how soft you are, and the second is how good you taste. Your palm presses to his chest and his heart instantly warms. The kiss is short and soft, but once he pulls away, he falls right back into it. At this point, he doesn’t even notice if the ferris wheel is moving or if it has stopped, because he feels like he’s floating on top of the world. He can still taste the powdered sugar on your lips, and when he slips his hands around the base of your neck, your mouth opens and he can taste the remnants of lemonade on your tongue. 

You hum against his lips, gripping his shirt so fiercely in your trembling fingers you worry for a fraction of a second that you might rip a hole in it. But when Jungwon presses closer, a small sound, light and airy, slips from his mouth as he moves his lips against yours, and all worries you have are left for dead. 

One of Jungwon’s hands slips away from your jaw, an action you hardly notice as he nips your bottom lip as a distraction. He scoops your leg onto his lap, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your knee. If it weren’t for being on a damn ferris wheel, you’re certain Jungwon would have you straddling his lap by now. But you are on a ferris wheel, and you are in public. And if the bulge pressing against your leg and the ache between your thighs are to mean anything, they mean that you need to stop or else you might just end up letting him fuck you right here, twenty feet in the air. 

“Jungwon,” you murmur breathlessly against his lips. You move to backaway, but he just follows you, eyes closed and a blissful look blanketed across his face. You giggle and he giggles back, squeezing your thigh and sucking on your bottom lip. “Jungwon,” you repeat, a little more firmly this time. He lets you push him away, eyes trained on your lips as he licks his own. It’s official, he’s decided. He’s obsessed with your taste. “We’re in public.” 

He begrudgingly tears his eyes from your mouth, kiss-bitten and swollen, to look around. After reminding himself of where you two are, together, he nods slowly. Turning back to you, he moves to fix your hair, and despite it not staying in its respective place, he still looks at you like you hung the moon and stars. 

“I forgot,” is all he says, before he leans in one last time to kiss you. 

The ride home is filled with gentle touches and even fonder looks. Jungwon follows you into your house, just as he always does. He watches you as you brush your teeth, smiling around his own toothbrush as the foam from the toothpaste forms small bubbles on the corners of his mouth. He observes you as you do your skin care, sitting on the toilet lid as he plays with the hem of your pajama shorts. It doesn’t suggest anything other than him wanting to be close to you, and you’re not sure if you’re frustrated by the lack of underlying meaning or content with his patience. 

Jungwon snuggles next to you once you finally go to bed, nose pressed to your neck and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. He kind of makes you hot and bothered when he speaks in a voice so low you’re certain you hear waves crash in his tone. 

“Good day?” you ask, still able to see his eyes shine in the light of the growing and glowing moon. 

He nods, brushing his lips over yours. “Very good day,” he says, sealing the deal with a kiss that makes your heart swell so large you fear it might break a rib. 

He’s warm against your side and real, and the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep. You dream of his touch, cradled in his arms, excited for tomorrow. 

When you wake the next morning, he’s gone. 

—

It’s been a week since you last saw Jungwon. 

When you woke up without his warmth, you were almost in denial. But after checking your living room, kitchen, bathrooms, and balcony about three times, you were certain it could be no mistake. He can’t drive, so there’s no way he could’ve gone far. But when you ran around town, checking all of the places he would’ve known and been drawn to, pajama shorts still on and hair half styled, you began to lose hope. He was not at your house, not at any stores, and not at the beach. And once a few hours have passed, you realize he’s gone. Jungwon is not coming back. 

You tried to be the slightest bit hopeful. Once the sun had set, you walked along the shoreline, calling his name. You prayed that no one would be around to hear your calls. If someone were to ask who you were looking for, you might think you could lie and say your dog, but Jungwon isn’t a suitable name for a dog. It’s only suitable for him. But after hours of searching, and sitting against the cool rock of your special jetty, do you finally relent to the cold, hard truth. 

Your friends chalk up your behavior as you missing your friend. They don’t get much information from you, only a quick comment of how he went home, but they can tell you’re upset. So after your third day of wallowing, they grow desperate to see you smile. 

It’s only after a series of shopping trips and movie nights do you start to feel better. When you’re alone, it’s easy to think of Jungwon and wonder why he left; with your friends, your mind stays busy. They make you laugh at stupid jokes and gasp at juicy gossip. Daniela fills you in on this new guy she’s started talking to, and you only have to push down your jealousy slightly before genuine joy for her bubbles over. 

By the end of the week, you’re beginning to see a future where you feel normal again. It’s not now, but it will be someday. Eventually, Jungwon will be a memory just like your kindergarten crush, and the thought of him won’t sting as much as it does presently. Besides, when you stop to think about it, it’s probably for the best. He’s literally from the ocean. He’s a completely different species, not entirely human. It’s not like you could’ve dated. Your dad wouldn’t have really liked him anyway.

By the time the weekend rolls around, Lara mentions that there’s been a rumor about another party at the beach floating about. The second you hear about it, you’re in. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten shitfaced with your friends, and without having to worry about waking up at the asscrack of dawn to see Jungwon, you’re more than willing to drink some cheap liquor and face the consequences the next day. 

Yunjin brings the alcohol and Lara brings the mixers, and eventually, you’re all pleasantly buzzed. Trodding down to the beach in your cute outfits and bikinis, you feel normal. There was a life before Jungwon, just as there will be a life after him. You will not let the absence of a man be what ruins your good time. Your P.J. (Post-Jungwon) life starts right now!

You mingle and flirt, and even let some random guy feel you up. And although his touch doesn’t feel as good as Jungwon’s, it’s good to know that you still got it. But the more and more that you try to convince yourself that you don’t miss him, you begin to realize that it isn’t true. You do miss him. A lot. It’s borderline humiliating. 

Maybe it’s the drinks and a couple of hits from some joint your friends passed around, or maybe it’s because you’re overstimulated from the sand that you can’t seem to brush off your legs, but you’re starting to feel like you’re going to cry. 

“I’m gonna go pee,” you slur to Daniela, who just nods before returning to talk to some girl you vaguely remember from high school. 

You stumble your way through the crowd, sure that you may have gotten the odd glance here or there but who cares? You’re beginning to feel dizzy, your legs feel heavy and your body feels tingly and suddenly you come to recognize just how drunk you are. Mission accomplished, but at what cost? 

“Shit,” you grumble, leaning against a rock for support as you catch your breath. You look up, hoping that focusing on the stars would help you sober up. 

Your body keeps drifting away from you, a baby rocked to sleep, but your mind stays still on Jungwon. Why did he leave? Did he get what he wanted? A kiss? That’s a stupid thing to want from someone. If he was going to be that selfish, he might as well have fucked you and then dipped. But a kiss and dip? No one in the history of the world has ever heard of something as lame as that. However, you’re beginning to believe that you’re patient zero. 

The stars spin, but once you spot the full moon, your body becomes yours again. It’s brighter than you’ve ever seen it, an iridescent light beaming across the water. The ripples in the waves illuminate your path in hughes of white, blue, and green; a perfect spotlight for your evening walk. You swore it would clear your mind and reestablish your footing, but still, you somehow always end up here: the jetty. 

Sitting down at your usual spot, you dip your toes into the water and swirl them around. Your feet drag through the water slowly, your scar catching the light briefly. The moon is pale and bright and big, and you wish Jungwon was here to see it with you. He is, but he’s not worried about the moon. 

Despite not being in the right state of mind, the hair on your arms pricks up, a danger sensed before your mind is even aware of it. Your skin tingles as it circles the water, hypnotized by the patterns it creates in the foam. You feel a pair of eyes. 

As you look up, you spot only a silhouette, but you know exactly who it belongs to. You always have and you always will. Although you’re certain you hear a song so beautiful that it makes you want to tear your skin off, suddenly your ears fill with wax and your emotions overtake the melody, creating a harsh dissonance. 

“You have some fucking nerve,” you spit, pulling your legs out of the water and crouching on your knees. He doesn’t move. “Kissing all up on me, touching me, sleeping in my house!” 

You can see him cock his head to the side, but with the way the moon is positioned in the sky, you can’t observe his face. Sincerely, you hope he’s hurt. Maybe not crying—you’re a little afraid you might fold if he is—but hurt. 

“I should slap the shit out of you for leaving like that,” you spit, clawing at the rock beneath you like a life line. 

Jungwon straightens at that and abruptly sinks under the water. For a second, it startles you. Maybe you scared him off? A part of you wishes that that is the case—that way you have the last laugh. But deep down, you know a slap from you would hurt him more emotionally than physically. He wouldn’t fear your hand. And at this moment, you’re not sure which you prefer. After you begin to doubt that you scared him, and move on to your next theory—shark bite—Jungwon emerges from the pitch black sea. 

Sometimes you forget that he’s not entirely human, but in this moment, he makes sure to remind you. Jungwon leaps from the water, propelling all of his body weight onto his arms and hands which suspends his body halfway out of the water and onto the jetty. You shriek, falling flat on your butt as he stares at you, only a few inches from your face. 

You take a good look at him, and for a second, you’re not sure you’re talking to Jungwon. His eyes are wild, not the bright-eyed wideness that you know. Instead they’re slender, frantic, and threatening. His mouth hangs open, and you spot the edge of a fang indenting his lower lip, his tongue quickly smoothing over the skin. Despite the water being cool, you feel the fever radiating off of him and his cheeks flush a brilliant shade of pink. You take a deep breath in, studying his face. Before you can begin to check out his body—a habit you’re not all too proud of not being able to shake—he lowers himself back into the water.

He doesn’t submerge, and he doesn’t talk either. His lips stay wired shut, rose-red mouth relaxed but stern. His hands stay on the rock, bracketing your legs that makes you weary of moving too quickly. His fingers look as if they’re straining against something, but you’re not sure what. Do you want to find out?

After more than thirty seconds of just staring at each other, you realize he’s not going to speak. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you wonder, no longer feeling threatened by him. “Why are you getting all up in my face like I was the one who left? You’re the one who kissed and ditched, remember?”

It sounds even more pathetic saying it out loud. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jungwon says, eyes transfixed on your face. For a moment, you see him melt. His eyes become wide again, but still hungry for something. His brow furrows, and he shakes his head, huffing a sigh through his nose like an animal clearing its senses of a particular scent. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Did you not hear what I just said?” 

His eyes trail down your body, and you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch. You see his nails dig into the rock desperately, and you’re beginning to grow concerned. A look of discomfort crosses his face, and he shakes his head once more, water spraying against your calves. Sitting up and extending your legs back into the water, you notice how he learns forward subconsciously, seeking your touch. What the fuck is going on? 

“Jungwon, are you okay?” you ask, reaching for him. You reach out to touch his hand, and before you can even register the heat of his palm, Jungwon keens forward, an airy sound escaping his mouth unwillingly. His forehead rests against your knees, and his breath is warm against your legs as you begin to second guess everything you thought you knew. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, chest heaving. In a panic, you begin to look for injuries. You can’t begin to fathom what would make him act like this. He’s usually calm, the eye of the storm in any and all cases. He plays with your hair when you’re rambling and rubs your back when you’re upset, and now you're the one doing it all for him. 

You’re so confused, and as wracking breaths continue to knock against his ribs, fingers damn near creating claw marks in the rock, you’re desperate for answers. “Why wouldn’t I be here, Jungwon? It’s a beach.” 

“The moon,” is all he says as he looks up at you. His eyes are nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s like they melt the second he looks at you, eyebrows furrowed and irises so dark you believe that if you were to sink in them, you’d never find the bottom. You look up to the sky, moon brilliant and bright. 

“I don’t get it,” you confess, laying a hand on his cheek. Should you be worried? He’s burning up. Do you offer to get him some medicine? An ambulance? A veterinarian? 

Just as you begin to search for your own solutions, Jungwon—without much ability to control himself—proposes his own. With the palm on his cheek being his final straw, he presses his face against your leg once again, harsher than before. You feel his nose indent your thigh, and before you can begin to register the sudden change in proximity, Jungwon licks your leg and moans. 

Your body responds before your mind, and if you were standing, you’re certain your knees would buckle. You clench around nothing, a rush of wetness pooling in your bikini bottoms. Without meaning to, you rock your hips gently against the rock. It doesn’t provide any comfort for the sudden ache, but Jungwon has you acting in irrational ways. 

And once your mind is able to catch up with your body, the words that fly out of your mouth aren’t much more rational than your bodily response to his tongue. “Yooo, what are you doing?” you hiss, no real threat posed behind your voice. 

“You smell so good,” he whines, kissing up your thigh. His arms hook under your thighs, dragging you closer and closer towards the edge. The water is up to your knees now as you cradle Jungwon’s head to your thigh. He nips and licks and kisses, and all you can do is watch. You feel his biceps flex under your legs, and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, desperate to keep you attached to his mouth. 

You're not entirely sure of what is going on or what’s come over him, but you do know that you’re wetter than you’ve ever been in your whole life. His fangs graze your upper thigh, sharp and menacing. Before you can begin to complain about the sting, and, without a doubt, the blood that bubbles in its wake, Jungwon licks over the wound like his spit is some sort of salve. The sting is immediately gone, and replaced with a tingle that leaves you wanting more. He creeps higher and higher, breathing heavily. Your thighs are slick with spit, bruised by kisses. You tug at Jungwon’s hair, the wet strands wrapping around your fingers to keep you tethered to him. Jungwon moans again, shoving his nose into your crotch and inhaling deeply. 

You burn furiously, embarrassed that he’s smelling you but also incredibly turned on by the fact that he seems to like it. A hand leaves your thigh and inches upward, lithe fingers tucking into the waistband as he attempts to yank your shorts down hungrily. 

“The button,” you instruct breathlessly, your hands meeting as you both frantically go to undo the button of your shorts. Once you manage to pop it open for him, he rips them down your legs, soaking them with sea water accidentally before throwing them next to you haphazardly. His mouth is back on you instantly, and you urge him towards your core, fingers tracing his jawline. “Jungwon…” you whisper, yearning to kiss him but aching at the thought of his attention being redirected. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs around your skin, sucking another blossom into your thigh. You will be tender to the touch come tomorrow. “I can’t help it.” 

“It’s okay,” you soothe, and he looks up at you, mouth spit-slicked and raw. “I want you too.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. 

Jungwon dives back in, licking the flimsy material of your bikini bottoms. You can feel his tongue press against your clit through the fabric, and both of you moan. He sucks the material into his mouth, searching for your taste before he can indulge in you fully. He knows he should stop, he’s not in the right mind. But with the way he’s aching for you, a desire so fierce he can feel it burn him from the inside out, he’s not sure if he can will himself to stop. When he glances up and sees the look you’re giving him, eyes glowing and jaw dropped in amazed pleasure, he’s certain that he won’t stop. 

Snatching the fabric between his teeth, Jungwon pulls your bottoms down your legs, tossing it alongside your shorts. He looks at you briefly, slick and glistening under the pale moonlight. Prior to this moment, Jungwon was certain he'd seen plenty of beautiful things. However, he is now positive that this view is the prettiest of them all. 

He leans in voraciously, kissing the skin above your pretty cunt, the short hair tickling his lips and chin. Jungwon isn’t used to it, as you’re his first human girl and—if he has it his way—his last. But he likes it a lot more than he assumes is probably normal. He kisses you there one more time, feeling the muscles of your thighs twitch and tense. 

“Please, Jungwon,” you whimper, hips leaning forward in search of his mouth. “I need you.” 

Who is he to deny you? 

Jungwon licks your folds tentatively, gauging how sensitive you are. A small sigh releases from your chest, a hum so gentle he does his best to replicate it through his tongue. You grow more restless the more he does this, searching for something more. It feels good. Really good. Using his hands to push your thighs further apart, Jungwon's tail thrashes wildly in the water at how pliant you are under his guidance. 

“You taste so good,” he says, sucking your clit into his mouth greedily. You moan loudly, leaning backwards as your hips move forward. Jungwon looks up, watching as you prop yourself on one elbow, your other hand still stuck in his hair. You’re breathless, a warm ache slowly building within your core. “You like that?” 

You nod fervently, biting your lip. As if it’s a challenge, Jungwon begins to suck and lick more harshly than he did before, pulling more and more sounds out of you. A hand of his creeps upward, shoving its way under the cup of your bikini top. He pinches a nipple, a high pitched whine releasing from your mouth. His tongue travels lower, prodding at your hole curiously. You clench around him and he groans, pressing his tongue into you as far as he can. You grind forward, clit bumping his nose and he inhales deeply. In his professional opinion, you taste better than any candy he’s ever had. 

You twitch around his tongue, continuing to grind along his face. He squeezes your tit harshly, earning a gasp from you that makes him chuckle thickly, slick coating his mouth. You giggle too, delirious on the ecstasy Jungwon provides you. But your giggles quickly turn into endless moans as he sucks your clit back into his mouth, tongue swirling around the swollen bud. 

Growing dizzier by the second, and this time, you’re certain it’s not because of the alcohol, you become more and more desperate for a release. Jungwon is moaning against you, convinced that your cunt is the best thing to have ever graced this Earth. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whines, kitten-licking your clit before sucking it harshly once more. “I want to keep you all to myself.” 

“I’m all yours,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You can feel your slick and his spit pooling on the rock beneath you and spreading along your thighs. A heat brighter that the sun builds within you, yearning for more. 

He groans deeply, his teeth grazing against your clit in a way that makes you flinch. “Don’t say that,” he pants, dragging his tongue along every inch of you that he can find. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he whimpers. 

“Please,” you beg, finding his eyes in the moonlight. His eyes still replicate every bit of the beast that he is, his grip bruising. You clench around his tongue and he laps it up, feeding him in a way that you could never fully understand. The desire he feels is much deeper than what you’re capable of experiencing, and he knows that. But you’d be damned if you weren’t willing to try. “Please make me yours.” 

Jungwon releases an inhumane sound, a cross between a purr and a moan, something that vibrates from his chest and releases from his mouth without control. He grips your thigh, eyeing you quickly. It’s faint, but you catch the slight downturn of his lips and the furrow in his brow, as if he’s saying sorry. However, before you can question him, he bares his fangs and bites down on your thigh, piercing the skin. 

You yelp in pain, tugging at his hair but he doesn’t budge. He just groans against your skin, the pinch in your leg growing more and more aggressive the deeper his teeth sink into your flesh. But as quickly as the pain comes, a sudden overbearing warmth washes over you. You tilt your head back, grip on his hair weakening. Jungwon grabs your hand and rests it against his face, lapping at the blood that drips from you and sealing the wound. He looks at the new mark he’s created—a mark that confirms and reassures that you are his, and that he is yours. 

The ecstasy you’re experiencing from his love bite must be potent, because you’re practically leaking all over yourself. He coos as your cunt clenches around nothing, a new wave of your scent, even more syrupy, fills his nose. He watches you, your body arching into the open air for something, anything that could provide you with relief. Awe is an understatement. 

Reminding yourself that he is there, you snap your head up and open your eyes. You rub his cheek, watching him nestle into your palm. Maintaining eye contact, Jungwon lowers near where he expects you to want him, lips grazing your folds without any real pressure. You buck and squirm, but just before you find relief, he pulls away, suddenly every bit the tease and no longer the desperate, lust-crazed creature. 

Well, it’s not like you’re above begging. “Fuck me,” you groan, your voice not sounding like your own to your ears. Jungwon melts all the same. 

Sticking out his tongue, he licks from your taint to your clit, a relief that has you whining at a pitch you’re sure has never been reached. Practically making out with your cunt, Jungwon sucks your labia into his mouth, his own moans vibrating within you from the inside out. The bridge of his nose glides against your folds once again, rubbing against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars.You’re growing desperate, your hips unable to stay still as you rock and pull against him like a restless tide. 

You’re hot, sweating despite the coolness of the water. Whatever that bite did to you—whether it poisoned or drugged you—you’re not sure. What you do know is that Jungwon is licking your clit just the way you need him to and you don’t think you’ve been so eager to cum in your whole life. 

Your cunt pulses feverishly, yearning to suck anything he’ll give you further and further in. You want to watch him, and you try your best to, but when the pressure on your clit is just right, it’s hard to keep your eyes open and your head upright. 

He can not only feel you getting closer, but he can taste you getting there as well. Your stomach contracts, the clench around his tongue getting stronger by the second. Your thighs shake, and the heat within you is so intense you feel like you could burst into a supernova. The sounds you are releasing are sounds that a pornstar could only dream of making, and Jungwon doesn’t even have it in him to wonder if this is how all human girls sound because he too enamoured with how his girl sounds. His girl. Shit, he might cum. 

“I wanna cum,” you announced, vision blurred with tears. 

He moans, loud and clear. “Please,” he begs, watching your back arch in the moonlight. “I want to feel it, pretty. Please.” 

He continues to suck and kiss and lick in all the ways you’ve wished a man would without you having to ask. He categorizes every twitch, tunes into every moan, and memorizes every plea. If he’s serious about keeping you, you might have to take him up on his offer. 

Once the heat in your body becomes too much, and your back arches against the uncomfortableness against the rock, the band within your lower body snaps. Your orgasm washes over you like the sudden tide, unrelenting and powerful. Jungwon moans with you, licking every surface of you that he can reach as you buck and squirm against his face. Growing sensitive, you lightly pull his head away from your cunt, his mouth and chin glistening with your release. 

He looks at you, his eyes still hungry but in a way that reminds you of your normal Jungwon. Jungwon smiles softly, the soft pearls of his teeth beaming up at you as if he didn’t just give you the orgasm of a lifetime. You climb into the water, Jungwon grabbing your hips and steadying you the second he sees you waver. 

He lets you loop your arms around his neck as he continues smiling, completely in awe of all that you are. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, eyes unable to decide if they want to focus on your lips or your eyes. He tucks a hair behind your ear, the one that never stays, and you’re ashamed to admit it really turns you on. 

“So you’ve said,” you tease breathlessly, wiping some of your slick off his chin before you lean in to kiss him. 

Jungwon grips your hips, one hand wandering downwards to your ass. You reach behind you, encouraging him to squeeze, a pretty little moan slipping past his lips and down your throat once he does. You can still feel the feverish warmth emanating from his body, even in the water. Whatever fog was plaguing him seems to have broken just a bit, his eyes and face resembling the man you know and love. However, you can feel his lust press against your stomach, hard and thick. It’s definitely bigger than anything human, but you’re determined to make it work. 

You kiss down his jaw, his sighs and moans filling your ear as he cradles you against him. You grind forward, the head of his cock catching on your clit. You’re still sensitive, but you know it will pass. Jungwon groans loudly, pressing you against the jetty. His arm braces beside your head, bicep deliciously flexed. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you lean towards the muscle and bite it, licking over the indent of your teeth just as he did before. He watches you in awe, bucking against your heat once again. 

You moan softly tracing his cupid's bow before you stick a finger in his mouth. You trace his teeth, mesmerized by their subtle sharpness. You would’ve never expected how threatening they truly were until they were pressed against you. He sucks on the pad of your finger, eyes slipping shut briefly as he soaks in the bliss. Jungwon examines your face as he grinds against you again, regretting that he couldn’t see you before as well as he can now. He’ll just have to make you cum again. 

He’s endeared by the furrow of your brow, and the twitch of the corner of your lip. He grabs your wrist, pulling your finger from his mouth just so he can kiss you. He licks into your open mouth, doing his best to shield his fangs from your curious tongue. However, when you grind against him a little too hard, he bites down, nicking the side of your tongue. 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, pulling away. You pull him right back, not bothered by the sting. 

“Just kiss me,” you beg, palms cradling his cheeks. His saliva mixes with yours, thick and warm, and it’s as if he never hurt you. Not that he ever could. 

You rock forward once more, the head of his cock slipping lower and pressing against your hole. He can feel you clench slightly, and he’s filled with panic. He’s definitely too big for you, and both of you know it. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind trying but he’s not going to be the reason you get seriously hurt just because he couldn’t control himself. 

He pulls away, stilling your hips with a palm pressed against your womb. “We… we shouldn’t. It’ll hurt,” he says, unable to tear his gaze away from your pretty mouth. He’s really going to have to work on controlling himself if he wants to be around you longer. 

“It’s okay. I want to try,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his. 

He stops you once again, using all of his strength to contain his hunger. “No,” he huffs, eyes dropping to your chest and you can’t help but notice the way he twitches against your clit. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m really fucking turned on right now and I don’t know if I can control myself-” 

“Where did you learn that word?” you gasp, an evil grin spreading across your face like butter. 

He cocks his head to the side, every bit your sweet Jungwon. “What word?” 

“Turned on.” 

“I heard it in a movie,” he explains, completely caught off guard while your hand trails down and pinches at his nipple. His hand flies forward, capturing your hand against his chest. You just look at him, eyes sugar sweet and a smile even more sickening. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

His decision sounds definitive, and as much as you’re willing to try, you won’t push it. He nearly flops forward, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he huffs. Smoothing your hand down and up his back, you can feel his heart rate and temperature drop back down to a normal pace. He’s still rock hard, as he’s certain he will be for the rest of the night. 

“We could try other things…?” you suggest, gaze imploring. 

A confused look crosses his face, understanding replacing it as he notices your nails trace down his chest, lower and lower. You grab the base of him, thick and heavy in your palm. An airy sigh floats from his mouth, nosing along the column of your throat as if he’s suddenly grown shy. 

It’s still too dark to be able to see him in all his glory, but your sense of touch provides you with enough information to know that he’s huge. He’s shaped just like the regular human male, but much larger and heavier. The idea makes you salivate, thirsting for the day he finally lets you indulge in your silly fantasies. A series of ridges line the underside of his cock, and he seems to whimper whenever you add extra pressure to the area. 

“Just want you to feel good too,” you say, pumping slowly. 

The water ripples above your movement, moonlight bouncing off of every wave and swell. Jungwon kisses along your neck once again, sucking bruises into the skin that you sure will be tender to the touch come tomorrow morning. Though, the funny thing is, you never cared. 

“I’m already feeling good,” he moans, bucking into your hand. “You feeling good makes me feel good.” 

“Aww,” you coo. “You’re so cute.” 

You feel him heat against you, nuzzling closer if even possible. “Shut up,” he whimpers. 

You laugh, placing a kiss along his hairline. Your pace increases, groans and whimpers growing in intensity. Teasing his slit, Jungwon grows harder by the second. A series of clicks and whistles, a similar tune and rhythm to the foreign words he spoke to you weeks ago, are spoken into your neck. 

“Are you finally gonna tell me what that means?” you whisper, clenching around nothing when he licks the shell of your ear. 

“Means you’re mine,” he pants, pulling away from his hiding spot in the crook of your neck. “Forever.” 

Oh, you’re sooo going to make him cum harder than he ever has. 

Luckily for you, it doesn’t take much effort. With a few more flicks of your wrist, Jungwon twitches and finishes across your stomach, the ocean waves washing it away before you can scoop it into your mouth and show him how disgusting you can truly be. 

He kisses you deeply, tongue tasting the bitterness of the alcohol and sweetness of the juice you drank what feels like forever ago. You let him ride out his high, hand coming to a still once you’re certain you’ve milked him of all he has. 

Once he’s certain he can look into your eyes without being possessed by some lust-crazed animal for the second time that night, he pulls away from you, mesmerized by the shine of your eyes. Stealing the breath from his lungs, you giggle in such a lovesick way even Cupid would puke. You brush his hair away from his forehead, and he smiles softly. 

And under the starlit night, the waves rocking the two of you gently, he kisses you so gently that you hear the moon sing. 

—

When you wake up the next morning, you’re not entirely sure you can move. Your thighs are sore, your joints ache, and, worst of all, your heart misses Jungwon. The ceiling keeps you entertained for about twenty minutes, before your need to pee overweighs your desire to stay in bed, rotting. You contemplate crawling around on the floor for the rest of the day, but somehow, the thought of that sounds even worse than walking. 

After a scalding hot shower and a thorough examination of the hickeys and bruises left on your body, you feel clean and refreshed, despite still longing for Jungwon. If you could move any faster, you’d be down at the beach right now, looking for him. Hopefully, he misses you just as much too. 

However, despite the hours you spent with Jungwon last night, even as he guided you back to shore and kissed you goodbye, he never mentioned why he left. And as you brush your teeth and style your hair, you can’t help but let your mind run wild. Was it because of his attraction to you? You’ve never seen him behave like that, even during the brief moments, before your interaction last night, where you were aware of his arousal. He was always calm, despite proudly displaying his affection towards you. But last night was different. 

Lust nearly consumed him, and although you're certain he would never seriously hurt you, the ache in your muscles establishes a firm reminder for just how strong he actually is. You vividly remember how his fangs gleamed under the moonlight, and just how sharp they were to the touch. And although you can practically feel them scraping against you now, no evidence of their touch remains. The only residual mark on your body, besides the numerous hickeys and bruises, is the mark of his bite. 

It’s not sore like you’d expect a bite to be, although you do feel tender whenever you trace its pattern. Every time you touch it, or so much as graze it, it’s like the memories of last night resurface ten times more explicitly than before. It sets a fire within you, a furnace that burns to a more subtle degree, but glows nonetheless. The more you ignore it, the brighter it glows. 

But before you address it, you need answers. And you need them from him. 

Just as you peel yourself off your couch—slowly, of course—to go change and march down to the beach, a soft knock is heard from your front door. It’s still midmorning, and aware that all of your friends are late risers, you’re not expecting any of them to drop by unannounced. 

Shuffling to the door, ignoring the ongoing pain in your hips, you pull the door open. And there, bathed in sunlight, stands Jungwon in the same pair of pajamas that you last saw him wear, albeit, much sandier. He’s beaming at you, every bit a ray of light that heals all the aches in your body and replaces it with a different kind of ache. What was it you said about needing answers? Yeah. Those could wait. 

“Hi,” he says softly, smiling like he didn’t have you seeing the creation of the universe last night. 

“Get in here,” you mutter, yanking him by his shirt. You kick the door shut behind him, pressing him against the wood surface. His eyes widen but his grin stays, hands instinctively falling to your hips. 

“Did you miss me?” he asks, eyes melting you into a syrupy mess. 

“No.” 

Lies. 

As you fiddle with the neckline of his shirt, he observes as your gaze slowly glides down to his lips, sighing the minute he sticks his tongue out to wet them. “You sure?” he questions, leaning in closer. You can’t help but mimic his action. “Because I missed you.” 

You groan, taking the tiniest step forward. Your nose bumps his, and he nuzzles against it affectionately as if you’re not soaking wet right now. If you weren’t so entranced by his mouth, you would try to take a peak downward at his dick. Is he hard? He better be. 

“Fine. I missed you,” you admit. 

Jungwon’s lips pucker subconsciously the minute he feels your lower lip graze against his. The grip he has on your waist tightens, his grip still strong but not nearly as demanding as last night. Whatever came over him last night surely isn’t taunting him anymore, but something else certainly is. 

The Jungwon standing in front of you now is your Jungwon. Not the Jungwon who belongs to the sea or is controlled by the moon or influenced by the tides. This Jungwon belongs to you and only you. 

“Can I show you how much I missed you?” you ask, slipping a hand around his neck and tickling the little strands of hair at the base of his skull. 

He inhales shakily, nodding without much of a spoken word despite saying so much through his eyes. He practically falls forward onto your lips, catching you by surprise. You steady him with a hand on his chest, but allow yourself to stumble backward. Afterall, that’s where you were planning on heading anyway. 

The kiss is much more gentle than the ones you’ve shared, despite the ferocity in which he initiated it. It’s not like you mind. You’ve never been one to complain about a man who yearns and lets it be known. 

You guide him to your couch, the layout of your living room memorized like the back of your hand. Jungwon still manages to bump into your coffee table, hissing in pain against your lips but quickly laughs it off when he sees how flustered you’ve become. Besides, he has much more important things to do than worry about his potentially bruised calf. 

With a hand on his chest, Jungwon allows you to push him back onto your sofa, sitting down on the cushions he has spent plenty of time with, especially with you by his side. But this time, instead of watching a movie or talking aimlessly into the night, he has you sprawled across his lap, thighs caging his hips.

He’s amused by your impatience, letting you tug his pajama shirt over his head, indifferent to the sand that might have been dusted off of it. Slack jawed, you trace his pecks, fingers tracing along his nipples. It’s amazing being able to see him like this in the early morning light, his body not shielded from your view by water or your own shyness. No, now you’re eager. 

Jungwon arches into your hand when you pinch his nipple, a soft whine slipping from his pink lips. Grabbing the back of his neck, you guide him towards you, licking into his mouth. Your tongues tangle together, sucking and kissing any inch of flesh you both can find. He massages your ass, much gentler and more timid than he was last night. A little nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you to take things slow, but between last night and the questions you still have left unanswered, any caution about tempo is thrown out the window. 

“I want to touch you,” you state, pushing away from him abruptly. Jungwon shakes his head, trying his best to clear the fog clouding his brain. You said it so matter of factly, like you were reporting the weather, that he’s unsure if he heard you correctly the first time. It isn’t until you start tugging his pajama pants down his thighs, the weight of his hips preventing you from tugging them very far, that he realizes there is no problem with his comprehension of the human language. “I want to touch you,” you repeat, pressing quick kisses to his jaw to bring his attention back to you. 

Jungwon nods eagerly, lifting his hips and covering your hands with his own as he helps you pull his pants down his defined thighs. Typically, you’re not one to send heart eyes to someone’s dick, but you nearly swoon at the sight. 

His tip is flushed red, hard and heavy from only a little kissing and shoving each other around. Jungwon breathes heavily, eyes darting between you and his cock in anticipation. He’s never used it before—the human form, that is—not unless you would count when he got curious one night after waking up to an uncomfortable tightness and experimenting in the bathroom. Other than that brief moment, he doesn’t quite know what to expect. He knows his human form is more sensitive, more receptive to your touch and not as durable as his true form. Just from you looking at him, gaze hungry, has him twitching and leaking against his stomach. 

Finally gaining control of yourself, licking over your lips, you look at Jungwon. His chest rises and falls, small puffs of air drifting from his lips. The swell of his cheeks heat pink under your scrutiny, eyes unwavering when usually you like to play coy. But now you just look at him, eyes dripping honey and pulling him in so deep he thinks he might drown, of all people. 

You lean forward and kiss him, simple and sweet, but as he chases after you, you wrap your hand around his cock, sliding upward and squeezing around the head. His mouth falls slack against your own, his breath hitting your lips as he struggles to regain his composure. He’s not too sure he wants to find it anyways. 

You tug his length, fascinated by the extra inch he grows despite thinking he was already at full capacity. He’s heavy in your hand, spitting into your palm to aid the glide of his cock. Tossing his head back and closing his eyes, Jungwon nearly sinks into your couch, jaw still slack and hands now laying limp around your waist. It must feel good, because the way his hips twitch, trying their best to stay patient and exhibit some restraint, has you clenching around nothing. 

“Feel good?” you ask, kissing his relaxed lips. 

“Uh huh,” he moans, nodding slightly as he tries to kiss you back belatedly. He does better the second time around, hands now gripping your shirt with a fervor that has memories of last night surging to the forefront of your mind yet again. 

Thank god for having sex with Jungwon again—hopefully the sexual flashbacks will be less intense, although you doubt it. 

Tracing his slit, a breathy whine escapes his mouth only to be swallowed up by your tongue. He’s leaking all over your fingers, the pearlescent substance coating you in a sticky sheen. Finally able to crack his eyes open, Jungwon quickly falls in love with how concerned with his pleasure you’ve become, focus bouncing between his dick and his face. 

His breath hitches as he catches sight of your fingers covered in his precum, and you don’t miss the way his abs clench underneath the palm you splay across his stomach. Bucking upwards, less restrained than the past few times, you indulge him by matching his pace. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he whimpers, licking your neck and feeling your pulse jump under his tongue. You rake your fingers through his hair, tugging him back to where you can see him. He relents, brow pinching slightly at the pain but melting the minute you begin to scratch lightly at his scalp. If your hand wasn’t working him to completion, he thinks he could fall asleep with your hand in his hair. However, a particularly harsh tug of his cock has him seeing stars, lids growing heavy once more. 

You release him for a second, watching his manhood slap against his stomach with a satisfied hum. The slight wince from him doesn’t deter you, fascinated by his sensitivity and lack of filter as you bring your slick-covered hand up to your mouth, licking his pre off your fingers before grabbing him once more. 

Jungwon groans, suddenly consumed by his own attraction towards you. What the hell has he been doing this whole time? Letting you touch all up on him, not bothering to do the same to you?! Ashamed doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

“Off,” he mumbles, not even bothering to wait for your cooperation as he yanks your top over your head. The newly disheveled state of your hair would typically make Jungwon chuckle, but his preoccupied state only has him carelessly tossing your shirt aside and pulling you closer. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your nipples as he plants soft kisses along your breasts. 

Sucking a nipple into his mouth, your pace on his cock slows as he rolls the nub between his teeth. Although you’re certain he doesn’t mean to distract you, the tingly sensation that the suction around your tit provides has you nearly forgetting about his length all together. 

“Mmph- Wonie,” you moan quietly, nails scraping along his scalp. He hums around your breast, using his other hand to fondle and pinch at your previously unstimulated nipple. “Feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” he huffs, a soft pop sounding from his lips. “Love seeing you like this. My pretty, pretty girl.” 

Diving back into your tits, where he feels safe and sound—as well as incredibly aroused—you resume your mission of pleasing him by your hand. Jungwon’s jaw drops slowly, recognizing the warmth and pressure that begins to build in him once more. His teeth graze the underside of your boob, creating small indents as he loses sense of control and begins to suck your skin into his mouth, bruises and hickeys left in their wake. 

He redirects his hand away from your tit, trailing it down over the plane of your stomach, pinching the skin in fascination. However, that only makes you squeeze his dick tighter, a shocked moan spilling from his lips as he attempts to regain his composure. 

Jungwon has learned a lot of things about himself because of you. For example, he’s learned that he enjoys sweets more than savory foods, he enjoys busy days just as much as he likes lazy ones, and that he doesn’t like to be pleased if you are not also experiencing some sort of pleasure. And when his fingers trail just low enough to graze your pussy over your panties, dripping with your own arousal, he can acknowledge that his touch on your skin is plenty to satisfy you in some ways. 

But he remembers how wet you got for him last night. He’s certain he can do better than he’s doing now. 

He traces your hole over the fabric of your panties, the tip of his middle finger just about nearly breaching the tight ring of muscle before he pulls back, only to do it again. And again. And again. 

You whine, tugging him by his dark locks so you can kiss him. In a clash of teeth and tongues, he decides to provide you some relief as he slips his fingers underneath the soaked fabric and sinks into your aching hole, the squelch of your slick damn near pornographic. You moan as he licks hungrily into your mouth, desperate to be as close to you as possible. 

The heel of his palm presses deliciously against your clit, causing your hips to squirm. The grip you have on him makes Jungwon see stars, a sheet of white flashing beneath his eye lids every time he closes his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he groans lowly after a particularly harsh tug of your hand. He feels you clench around him at the sound, adding another finger. “You make me feel so good.” 

“God, Jungwon,” you whine, unsure if you want to focus all of your attention on his cock or his fingers inside of you. 

You’re not certain if you’re so worked up because of the sounds he’s making or the memory of last night taunting you before he arrived at your front door or just because he’s that damn good at pleasing you. Either way, you can feel the thread within you growing thinner, the band tighter and you can tell he feels it too. 

“So wet,” he whispers in awe, pulling away from your lips to glance down at your eager pussy. You’re practically sucking him in. 

“Yeah? You like that?” a newfound confidence washing over you. You swivel your palm across the head of his cock, teasing his frenulum with your thumb. “Seems like you like this too,” you tease, observing the way he bucks up into your hand. 

“Yeah. Oh- fuuuuck,” he moans, a groan of your name following soon after. He tries his best to curl his fingers inwards, searching for that spot that makes you see supernovas. Just as you clench tightly around his fingers, that furrow between your brows forming, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

You grow more frantic in your movements, rapidly pumping your hand against his spit and pre-covered length. Jungwon twitches against your palm, his vision growing blurry as he continues to assault that sensitive spot in you. He can feel you getting there much quicker than last night, but it’s not like he minds. He’s not going to be able to hold off much longer. 

“Want you to cum,” you whimper, eyes tearing with desperation. “Wonie, please cum for me. I want it so bad.” 

He groans, scissoring his fingers open inside of you that has your vision blurring both from tears and with pleasure. You can feel yourself teetering over that edge, the deepest part of you burning for release. With a roll of your hips and the friction of his palm against your clit, your walls spasm around his fingers, the clench providing much for Jungwon’s imagination. He ruts upwards, your hand still held tight around the head of his cock as he twitches against your fingers, cum leaking down his shaft and across your stomach. 

As he opens eyes, mesmerized by the sudden relief that washes over your features, he pulls you into him, flopping sideways so the two of you can rest and catch your breath. 

As the rise and fall of his chest slows, and your walls stop pulsing intermittently, you are able to remember what you wanted to discuss with Jungwon in the first place. Although you’re not necessarily upset by his ability to redirect your focus, you are always a woman with a goal that will get accomplished, distractions or not. 

Sitting up slightly, you brace a hand on his chest, the faint beat of his heart knocking against your palm. He watches you, eyes warm and sleepy. A contented grin spreads across his face, warm as melting butter, but it quickly drops when he sees the frown deepening at the corner of your mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, worried. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I’m still new to this. I’ve never been with-” 

“No, no. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me, I’m fine,” you reassure, placating the crease between his brow. 

He follows your guidance, refocusing his concern on the problem that seems to be occupying your brain. “What’s wrong then?” 

“Why’d you leave?” you ask, not bothering to beat around the bush. “I thought you liked what we had going on. Why did you leave?” 

Now it’s his turn to frown, a small pout confirming his confusion. “I didn’t leave. I was going to come back.” 

Bro. Looks like men are stupid no matter the species. 

“I woke up and you were gone, Jungwon. You didn’t tell me where you were going, you didn’t leave anything for me to assume that you would return,” you list, cheeks burning hot under his gaze. “I didn’t take you for that kind of guy, but it’s hard to not assume the worst when you literally dipped with no explanation. I was worried.” 

He sits up fully, slipping a hand around your waist as you follow suit. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, eyes sincere. “I didn’t know it would scare you, it’s sort of hard to explain.” 

“I don’t care, explain it.” you urge patience wearing thin although you don’t mean for it to. “And you were weird as fuck last night too.” 

“You thought I was weird?” he asks, growing defensive. “You were literally wet.” 

“Two things can be true at once,” you say, growing shy. Usually you’re the one who can stump him with your words, but the better he gets at your tongue, the better he gets at leaving you rendered speechless. “I did think you were hot, but it wasn’t… I don’t know… you’ve never been that way before. I was a little surprised.” 

You both stare each other down, fairly aware of your back pedaling but willing to accept it for the sake of having this conversation. He adjusts your legs, throwing one over his lap, partially because he wants you closer and also because seeing your pussy still shiny from your release is making it hard for him to pay attention to the subject at hand. It only helps slightly, a full view of your cunt now hindered by your thigh. 

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” he explains, choosing his words slowly and carefully. “I missed the water so I went for a swim. I was going to just be gone for a few minutes, maybe find some shells for you ‘cause I know you like them. But then I realized the state of the moon, and what it does… I just thought it would be safer if I stayed away.” 

You shake your head, not quite following. “I don’t get it,” you announce, a petulant lilt in your voice that makes him laugh. 

“The moon sometimes messes with my head and makes me… you know…” he trails off, avoiding eye contact. The blush that blooms on the tip of his ears is cute. “But I’m okay now. Sometimes it has no effect, sometimes it does. I could feel it coming on though, and it can be difficult to control so I decided to stay away until it passed.” 

You nod, digesting all this new information. You faintly recall a story you heard ages ago of how merfolk are closely guided by the moon, and although they may not be as influenced as Jungwon suggests, part of it still rings true. He’s avoiding your eyes, fascinated by the small red light on your cable box. It’s hard to believe that there will be a day where he’s not amazed by your television. 

Desperate to regain his attention, you pinch his sides. When that fails, his blush glowing a deeper shade of crimson, you decide on something that will certainly get him worked up. 

“Is that the only reason you wanted to touch me like that? Because of the moon?” 

He whips his head around so fast you’re scared he broke his neck. Jungwon almost looks mad, scandaled that you would even dare to ask such a question.

“No!” he nearly shouts, grip tightening around your waist. You watch the way your flesh pillows under his fingers, a vein running down the front of his hand and down to his slender fingers. “I-I’ve always wanted to do that with you. The second I met you I wanted to, but-” 

“The second you met me? Really?” you smile, drawing a faint pattern on his pec that has goosebumps raising along his skin. 

“Yeah,” he nods, voice weakened by your touch. “I’ve always wanted you.” 

“Hmm,” you hum, tossing your leg across his hip to straddle him once more. “How did you want me?” 

“I-” 

“Did you want to taste me the way you did last night? Or just stick your fingers in me?” 

Jungwon’s blush creeps from his ears, across his face, and down his neck, a bright shade of rose painting his tanned skin. You giggle sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek that he accepts gratefully. You grind down on his hardening length, still sticky from his release. 

A moan floats from Jungwon’s mouth, a welcomed sound. “I wanted to do all those things,” he agrees, rutting up against the warmth of your pretty pussy. “‘Want to do more, too.” 

“More? You want more?” 

“Mhm,” he whines, his bangs drooping into his eyes. You brush them back, eager to see his lids grow heavy with lust. “I really want to fuck you.” 

Alright. 

“Bedroom.” 

He follows closely behind you, sloppily kissing your shoulder as you tug him towards your room. You’re royally fucked, your legs already shaking the minute you lay down on your bed, Jungwon climbing over you the second your back hits the mattress. 

“You’re so pretty,” he says, kissing up your neck and jaw. 

You giggle, tangling your fingers in his hair, softer than a morning breeze. You could hear him say that same compliment a hundred times more, and it would still leave you warm and fuzzy. 

“You’re pretty, too,” you comment, kissing his nose. 

He giggles against your lips, chaste kisses scattered across your mouth and face. The warm feeling of your words spreads in his chest and throughout his whole body, heating him from the inside out. Lazily dragging a finger down to your willing cunt, he gently circles your clit to prep you. 

You’re aware that he’s smaller than what he presented you with last evening, but he’s still plenty big. His length rests in the crux of your thigh, long and thick. Your mouth falls open, soft moans slipping from your lips as he wastes no time licking into your mouth. Jungwon subtly begins to grind against your leg, intoxicated by your touch, no matter the medium. 

You, however, are growing desperate. 

“I need you to fuck me, Jungwon,” you plead, digging your nails into his shoulders. His eyes grow heavy, tracing every line and edge of your face. “Please, baby. Fuck me.” 

He would give you the world if you asked. 

Ever the most efficient, Jungwon leans back slightly, placing his cock between your folds and watching as your hole clenches at the proximity. He thrusts against you a few times, coating himself with your slick and savoring the moan you release when he nudges your clit. The mark of his teeth on your thigh stares back at him, still tender and fresh. He traces the crescents, heart thundering against his ribcage so loudly he’s almost positive you can hear it.

“Wait, fuck,” you gasp, stopping him with a hand on his hip. “We need a condom.” 

“W-What? What’s that?” 

You lean towards the small table next to your bed, pulling the drawer open before you reveal a small foil square. Tearing it open with your teeth—a sight that Jungwon could’ve never predicted would make his dick twitch—you reveal a delicate latex circle. He sits back on his haunches when you guide him away from the inside of your thighs, upset by the distance, but pleased when you wrap your hand around the base of him. You slip the latex over his head and down his shaft, quick and effortless like you’ve done this before. He doesn’t want to think about it. 

“It’s so I don’t get pregnant,” you inform, laying back down against your no-longer pristine sheets. 

Jungwon thinks he just came a little bit at the thought. 

“Right,” he coughs, looming over you once again. “Wouldn’t want that to happen.” 

“Are you blushing?” you tease, pinching his ruby-red cheek between your thumb and forefinger. 

He swats you away, tucking his head against the curve of your neck in embarrassment. “Shut up,” he mumbles. 

Jungwon sighs the second he ruts against you, soft and breathy. You indulge him for a moment, whining with every glide against your clit. However, after a couple minutes of humping against each other like animals, the heat boiling within you grows too unbearable to ignore. 

“Alright,” you huff, reaching between you two to line him up against your hole. “‘Need to feel you inside me now.” 

He nods, lifting his head from your neck so he can watch himself slowly sink into you. You’re tighter than he could’ve imagined, a loud moan escaping him without his control. You lift your hips, chasing the feeling of him filling you up. Maybe you’ve always been able to get this wet—you’re not sure—but you know you’ve never been this wet for anyone other than Jungwon. 

“Fuck, Wonie,” you whine, clawing at his back. Once he reaches the hilt, he collapses forward, nosing along your jaw as he whimpers with every adjusting clench around his cock. 

Thrusting forward, neither of you know what to focus on. Hands groping and fondling everything they can reach, you’re certain red lines litter Jungwon’s back and he’s sure finger-print shaped bruises will be printed across your thigh, accompanying his bite mark. 

“You feel so good, pretty,” he moans, grinding against your clit before pulling out half-way and thrusting forward. 

Jungwon prides himself in his strength, he’s always been quick and able to fight back without worry. But at this moment, you’ve rendered him weak. All of his energy is directed to pleasing you, resting between your folds, hot and heavy. The head of his cock grazes against the spongy spot inside you, and it has you pressing your tits against his chest and moaning into his ear. He thinks that might be his new favorite feeling, but then you have him experiencing a feeling so new and unique that he realizes that having a favorite is impossible when it comes to you. 

You have to damn near yank Jungwon away from you, neck damp and warm from his panting against your skin. Jungwon moans against your tongue the second you kiss him, lips bit-ridden and plush. 

“Mmph, baby,” you moan, unable to kiss back after a particularly harsh thrust against your walls. Stars decorate your vision, hyperfixating on the mole on his jaw before becoming enamored by the small smirk on his lips. “You’re so good to me.” 

Completely blissed out, Jungwon isn’t even aware of his smile, but you love it all the same. “Yeah? Makin’ you feel good, pretty?” he groans, speeding up his pace just a fraction. “Need more? Want to feel you come again, is that okay?” 

You nod frantically, unable to control yourself as your hips don’t know whether to run away or lean into the pleasure he’s providing you. “Need it,” you whine, overwhelmed by the pressure building within you. 

“Mmph- anything you want, beautiful,” he whimpers, pressing a kiss to your lips before pushing your knee closer to chest and resting it along the curve of his waist. 

He sets a brutal pace, sounds of your pussy squelching around him and your moans filling the room. You can feel yourself dripping down his shaft and onto your sheets, a mess you’ll most definitely need to clean up later but can’t be bothered to worry about at this moment. Not while he’s fucking you so well. 

Your tits jump with every harsh thrust, his hips smacking against your own. He’s entranced by how mindless you’ve become, growing needier with every sigh and whine that escapes you. There has never been a prettier sight than you. 

“Ohh,” you gasp, hips jolting when you feel his fingers begin to rub your clit. “Fuck, keep doing that, baby. I’m so close,” you urge, vision colored with lust.

“I got you,” he whispers against your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Just let go, pretty.” 

He rubs your clit one more time, your eyes slipping shut before you cum for the second time in the past hour. Your head presses into the pillow beneath you, back arching as your hips rut against him as you chase the remainder of your release. 

You grow impossibly tighter around him, the slick that spills from you aiding the glide of his cock inside you. Rendered breathless, all words leave your mind. You can only moan to let him know how good he’s making you feel. Jungwon continues to buck wildly against you, eager to taste his own pleasure. 

“Never gonna leave you again,” he groans, kissing and sucking your lips into his mouth. “Never wanna be without you.” 

Boneless and weak, you use the last of your strength to card your fingers through his hair one last time, meeting his eyes with a fond look. His dick throbs, aching and heavy, and your gaze is not helping stave off his impending release. He curses his gods and yours for trying to separate the two of you, eternally grateful that you defied the odds by coming together as his stomach and balls tighten. 

Jungwon doesn’t want it to end. It all feels too fast. But the look you give him reassures that you will have many more opportunities to come. Opportunities for him to lazily rock against you in the mornings, moments to fuck you into oblivion, and moments to make proper love. He can't wait to hear more sounds from you and to whisper filthier words into your ear, and to feel you melt around him time and time again. 

The syrupy sounds you release fill him up, and as his voice jumps the octave in a breathy moan, he releases into the condom. His dick twitches relentlessly against your walls, overstimulating you beyond the point where you could care. He rocks against you unceremoniously, jerky and without rhythm before slowing to a gentle end. 

Jungwon presses his forehead to yours, allowing you to cradle his face in your palms as you press sweet kisses into his skin. As the two of you slow, stilling into a quiet calm, your breaths sync and your hands continue to explore in a hushed wonder. 

For the first time in your life, you don’t mind basking in the silence of the morning, consenting to his gaze under the broad daylight, despite being certain you look like a sweaty, fucked-out mess. But Jungwon doesn’t care, you’re his girl all the same. 

The two of you finally come to, giggly kisses keeping you occupied until you grow hungry, stumbling out of bed to clean yourselves. And as you sit on the floor of your living room, beside Jungwon, handing him a grilled cheese—too tired to fix anything else—you realize that your father has been right about many things, but he could not possibly be more wrong than he was about your boyfriend and his character. He is the sea and the sky and the Earth, all wrapped into one. 

When Jungwon knocks his knee against your bare thigh, dressed only in his underwear with buttered crumbs stuck to his lips as he sends you a love-sick smile, you feel certain that you did the right thing by returning to the beach that day. With the moon etched into his eyes and the sun kissing your skin, your infatuation has transcended worlds. 

It really was a sight to see. 

Your best friend pressed up against your boyfriend like they’d invented the concept of gravity, her hands shamelessly roaming under the hem of his shirt while his mouth dragged along the line of her neck. 

No shame, not even a flicker of it. To the drunk, sweating crowd around them, it probably just looked like another hazy corner of the party—two bodies tangled in the dim lights, music blasting so loud it swallowed any guilt, if they cared to harbour any that is, but you saw everything.

To be more precise, you found out yesterday when they got bold enough to fuck each other at your boyfriend’s apartment, and oblivious enough to not notice your presence, or your low chuckle at the depravity of the situation. Instead of feeling mad, you felt that bone deep numbness. Why trust anyone at this point?

Emotionally unavailable, the label had never sounded so accurate, but was it truly your fault when you never felt the need to expect anything from him? It certainly was an experience faking your orgasms for him, but you cared on the deeper levels—well, till you found him balls deep inside your now ex best friend. 

So you sat there now on the worn leather couch, legs crossed, drink dangling from your fingers, watching them like it was just another Tuesday night show.

“Oh hey—you’re here! Have you seen Mina?” 

The voice cut through the haze of music and chatter, slightly breathless. You turned your head slowly, lashes lowering just a fraction as your gaze landed on Heeseung.

He stood a few feet away, tall and striking even in the crowd, dark maroon hair tousled like he’d rushed all the way here. His sharp jaw was tense, brows drawn together in mild confusion as he scanned the room. The leather jacket hanging off his broad shoulders caught the shifting lights, and for a moment, you wondered how he’d react to the news of his girlfriend in the arms of his best friend. 

You tilted your head, lips curving into a slow, amused smile that didn’t quite reach your eye, 

“yeah,” you said, voice smooth as you clicked your tongue, “right over there.”

You lifted your glass in a lazy gesture toward the corner, and Heeseung followed your line of sight. The shift in his expression was immediate and downright visceral. His eyes widened, pupils blown with disbelief as he took in the scene of Mina’s leg hooked shamelessly around his best friend’s hip, her mouth pressed to the underside of his jaw while his hands roamed with practiced familiarity. 

The way they moved together spoke of stolen nights and secret touches—months, maybe longer.

“They’re cheating,” you added lightly, almost conversationally, as if commenting on the weather as you took a slow sip from your drink, “bold choice, doing it in plain sight like this. Guess they figured neither of us would actually show up tonight—I mean, I did mention I wouldn’t.”

Heeseung’s adam’s apple bobbed visible, a flash of hurt brewed behind his eyes, before it ignited this anger within him, “what the fuck—” the words slipped out rather hoarse, broken. 

He didn’t really look at you, eyes locked on them as if he couldn’t look away. Before you could say anything else, he was moving, pushing through the dense crowd with single-minded intensity. You watched his retreating back for a moment, that same curiosity curling in your chest. It would’ve been a sight to stay and watch the fireworks, sure, but you just got up. 

You wove through the crowd without hurry, heels clicking softly up the narrow wooden stairs, each step carrying you farther from the mess downstairs.

The upstairs hallway was dimmer, and at the end of it, the balcony door was wide open, letting the night air slip in. You stepped outside, pulling a cigarette from the pack tucked in your jacket, lips closing around it as you flicked your lighter. 

First drag hit deep, filling your lungs with that bitter, familiar burn. You leaned against the railing, letting the smoke curl out slow between your parted lips, eyes half-lidded against the wind tugging at your hair.

For a minute, everything felt almost peaceful, comfortable even, then the door scraped open behind you, and Heeseung stepped out, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way up. His hair was messier now, dark burgundy strands falling into his eyes, and his face—god, his face was a wreck. Eyes glassy with everything he was trying not to feel, cheeks flushed, mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Without asking, he closed the distance in two long strides and plucked it right from your lips.

A surprised little chuckle slipped out of you before you could stop it, and you observed how he took a deep, shaky drag from where your lipstick had stained the cigarette, holding it in for long before he blew the smoke up toward the dark sky. His free hand gripped the railing tight enough that his knuckles went white. 

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, voice rough, “how long? Just—tell me how long they’ve been doing this behind our backs.”

“Since at least yesterday,” you said, “I walked in on them fucking in his dorm, didn’t even have the decency to lock the door,” a faint smile ghosted your lips, “I just closed it again and left.”

Heeseung’s head turned toward you slowly, eyes wide with shock, the cigarette nearly slipping from his fingers, “you saw them and didn’t say shit?”

You shrugged, “what was there to say? They wanted each other, and I’ve never been the type to drown myself that deeply anyway. It just felt odd to see Mina do it, that part did affect me, years of friendship drowned for what? A guy.”

Heeseung let out a disbelieving huff, running a hand through his already tousled hair, “Jaemin was my best friend, man. We’ve been tight since freshman year—shared everything. And now this?” His voice cracked slightly, “feels like a fucking knife in the back from both sides. They looked guilty for a second but didn’t even bother following me here to explain themselves, though they did have the audacity to ask me not to tell you.”

You studied him for a moment through his ramble, the way the balcony light cast sharp shadows across his sharp jaw and the pained lines around his eyes. He looked devastatingly undone, yet there was something resilient in the way he stood there, refusing to crumble completely. The sight stirred a spark in your chest—that familiar free-spirited curiosity. 

You passed the cigarette back to him after a puff, “people reveal their true colors eventually. It’s pragmatic to accept it and keep moving instead of letting it rot you from the inside.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with shared betrayal. Heeseung took another drag, then offered it back, his gaze lingering on your face with astute observation, like he was trying to peel back the layers of your calm detachment, he just couldn’t understand how you seemed so—unaffected?

You crushed the cigarette against the railing and flicked it into the night. That proactive restlessness bloomed brighter inside you, eyes gleaming with mischievous insight.

“Wanna do something fun?” You asked. 

Heeseung blinked, lips parting in surprise, “fun? Like right now?”

“Mhm,” you stepped closer, “are you okay with a kiss, Heeseung?”

His breath hitched audibly, throat bobbing, “a—a kiss?” The word came out hoarse, almost stunned. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering, before snapping back up, cheeks flushing darker, “you serious?”

“Very,” you held his stare, “yes or no?”

“Isn’t that cheating?” He looked devastatingly clueless even mumbling that question, and you raised your brow. 

“Yes or no?” You asked again. 

He searched your face, the raw pain still churning, but something hungrier kindled beneath it—curiosity. After a beat, he gave one slow nod making you chuckle.

You took his hand and led him back down into the party’s suffocating crowd, and he followed without asking any questions. In the corner, Jaemin and Mina were still shamelessly entangled, her arms looped around his neck, his hands possessive on her hips.

You stepped straight into their space without hesitation, grabbing Jaemin’s arm to pull him back. 

The sharp crack of your palm across Jaemin’s cheek echoed through the room, his head whipped sideways. Mina stumbled back with a gasp as the crowd around you froze, then erupted in murmurs and the bright flare of phone screens.

“What the fuck?” Jaemin snarled, clutching his reddening face, eyes blazing the instant recognition hit, “w—wait, Y/N?” 

Mina’s face drained of color, “we—we didn’t think you would show up tonight—”

You desperately wanted to laugh, but you maintained your character, cause how were they dumb enough to think that you wouldn’t find out, especially when Heeseung did too. 

“Clearly,” you said, getting ready to lie beautifully, “Heeseung told me everything. How long have you two been fucking behind our backs?”

Whispers exploded outward. Jaemin fumbled for excuses, mouth opening uselessly.

“I didn’t expect this from you Mina,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek as tears started forming in her eyes.

“No—listen to me, we didn’t—”

“Whatever,” you continued, a crystalline laugh escaping you, “be happy with each other, I’ll find someone better.”

You turned away from their frozen faces, and Heeseung stood right there, looking completely wrecked. Your eyes met his, like really met them. For a second everything else including the stares, the phones, the bass—faded into background noise.

He looked at you like you were the only person left in the room, and maybe to him, you were. 

You stepped in close, sliding your hands up his chest. His heart was pounding under your palms, doe eyes full of trust and anticipation for what was to come. Heeseung’s breath caught, but he didn’t move away. His hands found your waist almost on instinct, fingers spreading wide and warm through your clothes, before pressing in to hold on tighter. 

His gaze dropped to your mouth before flicking back up, nodding slightly as he understood the question you asked him earlier. 

Which is why you tilted your head and kissed him.

You slotted your lips against his rather softly, just to test him at first. His mouth was warm, faintly tasting of smoke and the drink he’d had earlier. He froze for half a second, stunned at the easiness of it all, then let out this quiet, broken sound against your lips and kissed you back. 

The kiss turned deeper fast, hungrier. Your tongue brushed his and he groaned low in his throat, the vibration rolling straight through you. You slid one hand into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands, while the other stayed fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer. Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened almost painfully so, one arm wrapping further around your back to press you flush against him. His chest rose and fell hard against yours. You could feel every shaky breath, the way his fingers trembled just slightly where they dug into your sides.

It was messy, a little desperate. Tongues sliding, breaths mixing hot and uneven, the faint wet sound of it somehow louder than the music behind. He kissed like he was pouring every bit of hurt and anger and sudden want into you as you took it all, giving the same right back.

When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, Heeseung was completely gone. Lips swollen and shiny, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath, eyes dark and hazy like his brain had short-circuited. A wrecked little sound slipped out of him, half-gasp, half-groan—as he stared at you, dazed and breathing hard.

Your smile embodied satisfaction as you leaned in again and pressed one slow, teasing peck to his parted lips, letting it linger just enough to make his breath hitch all over again.

Jaemin and Mina were staring like they’d seen a ghost with their jaws dropped, faces pale, eyes wide with pure disbelief. The whole party had gone dead quiet around you, everyone watching, phones still pointed your way like this was the best drama they’d seen all year (it probably was).

You laced your fingers with Heeseung’s, gave his hand a light squeeze, and tugged him toward the door.

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmured close to his ear, voice low and a little playful against his skin.

Heeseung didn’t argue, just followed, still breathing hard, fingers gripping yours tight as the door swung shut behind you. 

The cool night air hit your heated skin, and for the first time tonight, everything felt wide open again.

A rather loud screech right next to your left ear woke you up, and you wondered if the world had somehow been corrupted by zombies because there’s no other explanation for such sounds, but your friend made it possible somehow. 

You jolted, heart kicking once before your brain caught up. Sunoo was practically jumping beside your bed, phone in his hand, “one time—one single time I decide to stay in and catch up on sleep and you create a fucking scene? Gosh, babe.”

Winter shoved the door the rest of the way open with her shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows, hair still a wild mess from her deep sleep. She planted herself at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at you, “fuck, Y/N,” she said before her tone got softer, “are you okay? I fucking knew that girl was a snake from the first time she came over. And your boyfriend? I always hated him, al-fucking-ways.”

You were still blinking, eyes half open and not willing to adjust to the brightness. Right then, a chuckle escaped your lips at the memory of last night—and you tried to remember the last time you felt so satisfied (maybe never?). 

Sunoo dropped onto the edge of your mattress without waiting, “I always said we are your besties. The kind who’d help you hide a body, no questions asked. Ride or die, baby.”

You sat up straight, blanket pooling around your waist, and opened your arms because of course they were right, “come here, idiots.”

They didn’t hesitate, Winter climbing on first, wrapping her arms around you like she could shield you from the whole damn world. Sunoo piled on top a second later, all limbs and very dramatic sighs, squishing the three of you into a tangled heap of familiar warmth. 

“Yeah,” you murmured into Sunoo’s shoulder, voice muffled, “you two are stuck with me.”

Winter huffed a soft laugh against your neck, “good, because we’re not letting you deal with that snake ex-bestie and cheating ex-boyfriend shit alone. We’re burning that chapter together.”

Sunoo’s voice came out muffled too, “and—we’re keeping the video forever, that kiss looked cozy girl, what else did you do—”

You let yourself sink into the warmth for a long moment, the bone-deep numbness from yesterday easing just enough to let something real and grateful slip through. The sting of Mina’s betrayal was still there, but it felt distant now—almost coherent in its simplicity. 

People drift apart, friendships end. You’d always known that. What intrigued you more was how easily these two could make the weight feel lighter, their amiable chaos wrapping around you like a promise that some things indeed were here to stay. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung was suffering. 

Jay had shoved his phone into Heeseung’s face, close enough for him to make out, uh, absolutely nothing. It seemed like a blurry mess of lights until Jay yanked it back to show Heeseung a pixel version of you grabbing his jacket and pulling him into what appeared to be a passionate kiss. 

The angle caught the exact moment his hands found your waist, the way his shoulders had tensed then eased up all at once. Heeseung’s ears burned red so fast it felt like someone had lit a match under his skin.

“Bro,” Jay said, grinning, “the video is everywhere, especially on the uni insta page for students. Someone made it into a trend—it’s actually insane.”

Before Heeseung could even form a coherent thought, the bedroom door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame, scaring both the boys. 

Jake came barreling in, hair still sticking up from sleep, eyes wild, “you bitch—you kissed Y/N? She’s mine—I called dibs on her months ago!”

Heeseung groaned, dragging both hands down his face, “she’s not an object, Jake.”

“Oh fuck you—you know I like her,” Jake shot back, dropping on his knees. 

Sunghoon strolled in next, casual as ever, one shoulder propped against the wall. He let out a low whistle and Heeseung wondered what the fuck is wrong with his friends, “so you’re what? Dating now? That was one hell of a plot twist.”

Jay sniggered, not even trying to hide it, “nah dude, you think he can handle someone like Y/N?”

Jake tried to butt in again, “I can—” but the rest of them talked right over him like usual.

Heeseung sat up slowly, the full reminder of the last night coming right back to him. The slap echoing through the room, the way you’d looked at him right before you kissed him, eyes bright with that reckless spark. The way he’d kissed you back like he enjoyed it. He swallowed hard, throat tight.

“Did I cheat on Mina?” He asked quietly.

The room went still for half a second, all three of them looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Jay let out a disbelieving laugh, “she cheated on you while you were still together.”

“Yeah but I kissed someone else literally a few minutes later—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sunghoon cut in, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Heeseung stared at the blanket pooled over his lap, replaying the kiss again—the heat of your mouth, the way your fingers had twisted in his hair, that soft, teasing peck you pressed to his lips after. It had been the best kiss he’d ever had. The whole situation felt far too complicated for the simple labels his friends were throwing arounf, and yet he couldn’t stop the memory from looping behind his eyes.

Jay sighed, softer this time, leaning back on his elbows, “did it feel good?”

They all looked at him. Heeseung didn’t answer right away, he just swallowed again, the memory burning behind his eyes like it refused to fade.

You on the other hand were absolutely not functioning when Sunoo had a trillion questions lined up for you—all of which consisted of Heeseung. You three had just managed to make coffees when the loud knock interrupted you. A sigh was all you could manage as you opened the door to find your pathetic excuse of an ex standing there with—roses? Wow, he didn’t even have the decency to remember that you were allergic. 

He spoke up before you could, “I know i deserved that slap.”

Well, obviously. 

“I messed up—I swear I don’t want her.” He was looking at you with that pout he mustered whenever you both had disagreements. 

You bit down your laugh, “yeah? So?”

“Take me back, baby, please?”

Right then someone flew past the door, and your mouth hung open as Sunoo straight up landed a kick on Jaemin’s thigh, resulting in him falling down with pain. Now, you laughed freely as Sunoo bent down to warn him, “stay away from her, okay?”

Jaemin turned to look at you, eyes wide, “what—”

“You heard him, we’re over, Jaemin,” you shrugged, wrapping your arm around Sunoo as you both walked inside, Sunoo glaring at man till the door closed shut. 

Jaemin stayed on the ground for a few more seconds, roses scattered around him, a thorn making him bleed just enough for him to roll his eyes.

That went well.

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the leaves of the uni garden, casting dappled shadows across the wooden bench where you sat. It had been three days since the party, and the campus still hadn’t let either of you forget it. Random students kept approaching you in the hallways, the library, even the coffee line—some offering awkward condolences, others straight-up calling the slap and the kiss badass with wide-eyed admiration. 

You sipped your mango matcha slowly, the garden was quiet now, just the distant hum of students walking between buildings and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. You felt normal, jolly even, like it hadn’t affected you, but even you couldn’t deny how good of a kiss it had been. 

Too lost in the pdf in your iPad, you didn’t notice Heeseung approaching until his shadow fell across your lap. He stopped a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, hair still slightly messy and he somehow made it look good.

“Hey,” he said, voice polite as it had always been, “can we talk?”

You looked up, lips curving into an amiable smile, “sure, c’mere sit,” you patted the empty space beside you on the bench and held out your mango matcha toward him, “want some? It’s good.”

Heeseung only cocked his brow, “same straw?”

You blinked innocently, “you’re saying that as if we didn’t make out in front of the entire party three days ago.”

He stared at you for a moment, intrigued cause of your carefree answer, before he reached out and took the cup anyway. He drank without hesitation, the straw brushing his lips where yours had been moments ago, and when he lowered it, the corner of his mouth twitched.

You chuckled, watching the way his shoulders loosened just a fraction, “so—talk, what’s on your mind, Heeseung?”

He handed the cup back, fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary, “I’ve been thinking about that night. A lot.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes stayed on yours, “the kiss, the way you just handled everything. I keep replaying it and I can’t make it make sense.”

You tilted your head, taking another slow sip before answering, “what’s there to make sense of? They cheated, we both saw it. I decided not to let it ruin my night and you were there. The kiss happened—simple.”

He let out a short, disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair, “It’s not simple for me. Mina was my girlfriend, Jaemin was my best friend since freshman year. And so much happened in like—an hour,” he paused, eyes searching your face, “did it really not mess with you at all?”

You shrugged, “It stung a little actually. Losing Mina as a friend after all those years felt kinda—odd? But drowning in it? Not really my thing.” Your lips curved again, “i’ve never been the type to hand my whole heart over and expect it to stay put.”

Heeseung watched you for a long moment, “you make it sound so coherent,” he muttered, almost to himself, “like it’s all just—logical. Meanwhile I’ve been walking around campus getting stopped by random people asking if we’re together now. It’s been three days and I still feel like my head’s spinning.”

You laughed lightly, “same here, a guy offered to buy me coffee because I deserved better, It’s weirdly entertaining.”

Heeseung’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, the first real one you’d seen from him today, “yeah, even my friend Jake was sort of, how do I even put it? But yeah, he wasn’t thrilled, hes got some crush on you.” 

Your eyes sparkled, “wait, isn’t he the cute one with an accent? I like him.”

He shook his head at how you would probably encourage Jake, the thought was rather unsettling, then looked at you again, more serious, “but, y’know—the kiss, that part wasn’t just for show.”

That made you pause for a moment, and you held his gaze, intrigued by the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to figure out how someone could be so calm in the middle of the wreckage.

“So what are you saying?” You asked, voice soft but direct, “you regret it?”

“No,” he answered almost immediately, “I don’t regret it, that’s the problem. It felt good and I keep wondering what the hell that means when everything else is such a mess.”

You leaned back against the bench, letting the sun warm your face for a second, “it doesn’t have to mean anything big, I mean—we both got screwed over.” You watched how pretty he looked under the sunlight, lips slightly red cause he’d been biting them, “maybe we don’t overthink it. Maybe we just—just see where it goes.”

Heeseung took the cup again, fingers brushing yours once more, and this time he didn’t pull away right away, “you’re really okay with that?”

You smiled, “I’m okay with a lot of things, Heeseung. Especially if they feel good.”

Neither of you said anything more for a moment. The conversation didn’t need to be solved today, for now, sitting here with him, sharing the same straw and the same tension, felt like enough.

Heeseung has always been a man of few words, but even those little words seemed to disappear when you were around. And the worst part? You weren’t even aware of it.

You weren’t the one to intrude on anyone’s personal space, and that included Heeseung, much to his relief (or dismay?), he was just—confused.

A week had slipped by since the garden talk, and the quiet tension between you two had only grown heavier. He’d spent the days avoiding Mina’s messages, the knot in his chest tightening every time her name appeared. But you—you were everywhere. In literature class you sat three rows ahead, never together, but he stared. He couldn’t stop noticing the way the light caught the curve of your neck when you leaned over your notes, the soft way your fingers tapped the edge of your pen, the small, absent smile that played on your lips when something in the lecture amused you. Every stolen glance left him more tangled than the last.

Tonight the restlessness had won. He pulled on a hoodie and walked to the 24-hour convenience store near the dorms, craving something mindless like his ride or die—ramen to quiet the noise in his head.

The annoyingly white lights buzzed overhead as he stepped inside, grabbing a basket and turning down the snack aisle, mind still half-lost in yesterday’s class when you’d stretched and your shirt had ridden up just enough to—

He stopped just then, cause you were right there,

standing in the middle of the aisle in soft pink pajama shorts that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs and a matching oversized hoodie that had slipped off one shoulder, you looked unfairly soft and warm, like you’d just rolled out of bed. Your hair was a little messy, and you were reaching up for a pack of strawberry gummies, the hem of the shorts riding higher with the movement.

Heeseung’s mouth went dry, and he wanted to slap himself for acting like a fucking creep.

You turned at the sound of his footsteps, eyes meeting his across the narrow aisle. A slow smile curved your lips, the same one that had been haunting him for days.

“Hey,” you waved at him, like running into each other at midnight in pajamas was the most normal thing in the world, “couldn’t sleep either?”

Heeseung swallowed, stepping closer despite the way his pulse kicked up. The faint scent of your shampoo clinging to your hair, “needed ramen, the boys emptied the fridge I swear,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded in understanding, “same lowkey—was staring at the ceiling but then decided to get out.” You tilted your head, looking at him a little closer, eyes tracing the tired lines on his face, “you look like you’ve got a lot going on up there. Want to talk about it while we walk back?”

Heeseung hesitated for half a second, then nodded, “yeah, sounds good.”

You paid for your stuff together, the cashier barely glancing up, and stepped back out into the cool night air. The walk was easy at first, with absolutely no words being exchanged, your shoulders brushed every few steps, Heeseung kept his hands in his pockets, but he could feel the warmth of you next to him, the soft brush of your hoodie sleeve against his every time you shifted.

“Been a week,” he said after a few minutes, “Mina keeps texting, and of course I haven’t answered. It feels weird ignoring her, but answering would feel worse.”

You hummed, glancing at him sideways, “I get that. Sometimes the easiest thing is just to let it sit there until it stops stinging, y’know?” Your arm bumped his again as you walked, and you didn’t pull away, “you holding up okay with all of it?”

He just nodded, granting you a smile which made the corner of your lips lift up too, and he asked you the same, to which you laughed as if nothing had even happened. 

It was so nice just walking beside you, even in silence, at this cursed hour of midnight, though Heeseung would argue and say that he felt more awake now than he did the whole day. 

The dorm buildings came into view too soon, but then Heeseung saw something that made his steps falter on the pavement, body going rigid right beside you. It made you follow his line of sight, and of course—Mina was there, walking straight towards his building, head down and mind completely focused on her phone. She hadn’t noticed you yet, but it was clear that she was going to approach Heeseung. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, panic flashing across his features in a way you could feel it reach you too.

Before you could provide him with two words of comfort, his hand slid around your waist, fingers spreading wide and warm through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He pulled you in close, so close that your side pressed flush against his, the heat of his body juxtaposing the chill of the air. His palm was steady but his fingers trembled a little against your hip as you caught the faint scent of his cologne, it was clean and woody, just how you liked it. 

“Play along, please?” He whispered urgently against your ear, voice rougher now.

You only chuckled, leaning into him as if you’d done it before, slipping your arm around his back, fingers resting lightly against the small of his back. Your head tilted up towards him, a soft smile curving up as you looked at him. Heeseung was flushed cause, damn were you good at acting. 

“Got it,” you murmured back.

Mina looked up at the exact moment, eyes widened at the sight, a gasp leaving her lips as she watched Heeseung’s hand slide lower on your back as you reached his dorm door.

You didn’t even realize you were biting your bottom lip until Heeseung’s gaze dropped straight to it, his breath hitched, thumb pausing on your cheek as his other hand came up to cup your face, warm palms cradling your jaw like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Can I?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes searching yours.

You didn’t answer, just leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and pulled him into the kiss.

Your lips met his softly at first and Heeseung made a quiet sound against your mouth, his hands cupping your face fully now, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he kissed you back. The taste of him was faint, a hint of the cherry juice he must have had earlier. Your own hands slid up his chest, fisting lightly in his hoodie as you tilted your head to kiss him a little deeper.

When you finally pulled back, Heeseung’s eyes were dark and a little dazed, lips parted and cheeks flushed. His thumbs were still stroking your cheeks, reluctant to let go.

Mina stood frozen a few feet away, face pale, cause she swore to herself it was an act, but this? It didn’t seem like one. 

Heeseung didn’t look at her, just tightening his grip on your waist and guided you through the door, pulling you inside with him. The warmth of his palm stayed glued to the small of your back the whole way, steady now, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

Inside the apartment, Jake was sprawled on the couch in the living room, a half-eaten pizza box open on the coffee table, some mindless show playing low on the TV. He froze mid-bite when he saw you, eyes going wide.

You smiled, bright and completely at ease, like showing up at this hour with Heeseung’s arm still around you was the most normal thing in the world, “oh—hey. Jake, right?”

“Y/N? Uh yes—hi, you’re here?” Jake stuttered, making Hee roll his eyes.

You just walked over to him, dropping onto the couch beside him acting all normal though your heartbeat said otherwise, “yeah! Mind if I steal a bite?”

Jake blinked, then grinned like an idiot and lifted the slice he was holding right to your mouth, “here, go for it.”

You leaned in and took a bite straight from his hand, cheese stretching between your fingers as you chewed, “mhm, this is actually good, thanks.”

Jake’s face lit up even more, “right? You can have the whole slice if you want.”

Heeseung stood there watching the whole thing, jaw tight. He lasted about five seconds before he groaned low in his throat, “alright, that’s enough.” He crossed the room in two quick strides, caught your wrist gently but firmly, and tugged you up from the couch, “c’mon.”

You let him pull you up, giving Jake a little wave over your shoulder, “night, Jakey. Thanks for the pizza.”

Jake just waved back, still grinning, “anytime!”

The second Heeseung’s door clicked shut behind you, silence filled the room—it was dim, lit only by the desk lamp, the air suddenly too warm and too small. Heeseung’s back pressed against the door, eyes dark and fixed on you before he walked over and plopped on his bed. 

You clicked your tongue, tilting your head at him, “now she’s gonna think we’re dating.”

Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, looking genuinely sorry, “yeah—I know. I’m so sorry—I just panicked and pulled you into this whole thing. You didn’t have to go along with it.”

You shrugged, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. Then, without warning, you turned and sat right down on his lap, straddling his thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseung’s breath caught, hands instinctively landing on your hips to steady you, eyes wide with surprise.

“I did kiss you first at the party,” you said, “so it’s kinda my fault too.”

Heeseung’s fingers flexed on your hips, holding you there. He gulped, throat bobbing visibly as he looked up at you, “so, now what?” he asked, voice rough.

You shrugged again, still sitting comfortably on his lap, fingers playing with the collar of his hoodie, “it’s your call, Hee.”

You kept talking as Heeseung pondered deeply about his choices. He didn’t register you saying something about how Jake’s face was priceless because Heeseung wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes had dropped to the exposed line of your clavicle where your hoodie had slipped down, tracing the smooth skin there, then moving up to your lips—still a little shiny from the greasy pizza, slightly parted as you spoke. The way you were sitting on him, the soft weight of you on his thighs—it was too stimulating for him. 

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and kissed you hard, mouth practically crashing into yours, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, the other staying firm on your hip to keep you right where you were. There was nothing hesitant about it this time—it was hungry, deep. His tongue brushed yours, and he groaned quietly into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips. You could feel the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his chest rose and fell fast against yours, the way his body reacted instantly to having you on his lap like this.

You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up his chest to fist in his hoodie. A soft moan slipped out of you when he sucked on your bottom lip, and Heeseung made this low, wrecked sound in response, hips shifting under you.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, barely pulling back, “this okay? Tell me if you want to stop.”

You shook your head, lips brushing his as you answered, voice already breathy, “don’t stop—keep going.”

He groaned and kissed you harder, tongue sliding against yours as one hand slid under your hoodie, palm warm on your bare back. You rocked your hips down against him and he moaned into your mouth, the sound raw.

You pulled back just enough to speak, forehead resting against his, “we doing this then?” You breathed against his lips, “no strings, just whenever we want or need?”

Heeseung swore you could read minds, “yeah,” he sighed in pleasure, “I want that—you and me, no strings.”

You smiled against his lips and kissed him again, deeper, grinding down slowly, “good fucking boy.”

He groaned louder, the sound vibrating through you as his fingers dug into your thighs, “shit—I’ve been so fucking pent up,” he muttered between kisses, hips rolling up to meet yours, “all week because of you.”

You moaned softly, rocking against him again with a chuckle, “that’s adorable, keep going, yeah? Don’t stop.”

He flipped you suddenly, laying you on your back and settling between your thighs. The new position made you both moan—the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, lips chasing yours mindlessly as his tongue slid against yours, hand tracing higher under your hoodie, hips grinding down slowly. 

“God, you feel good,” he muttered, pulling you down for another kiss.

You nodded, moaning softly into his mouth, “so do you.”

The room filled with the sounds of lips, heavy breathing, and quiet moans as you kept moving together, hands roaming, bodies pressing closer. The conversation faded into breathy words and soft sounds between kisses, and honestly, both of you didn’t care about much anymore. You both were just two horny adults functioning on a verbal agreement with no rules whatsoever. 

Outside in the living room, Jake had just taken another bite of pizza when the first loud moan drifted through the door. His eyes widened with betrayal—the slice slipping from his fingers and landed cheese-side down on the floor with a pathetic splat.

He stared at the closed door for a long second, mouth still full.

“Well—shit.”

You didn’t know that the consequences of spending one night with Heeseung could be so dire, granted you didn’t go beyond some innocent humping which bestowed you with the absolute pleasure of seeing Heeseung desperate and flushed underneath you. 

The question bugged you—why would Mina even wish to leave such a beautiful man who’s very willing to provide pleasure? 

You were still turning that over in your head as you walked down the hallway, iPad tucked under your arm, one AirPod in, but your mind was elsewhere—which was odd considering you never were the kind to just stand and ponder about random things, during the day time at least. The last time it happened was when you were a kid and Zayn had left One direction. 

Regardless, you chuckled at the idea of Heeseung being the one to garner your attention, since you never saw him in that light before—something about friends’ partners being inanimate to you. Either way, you started walking back towards your dorm since the lectures were over, only to be stopped by Mina blocking your path with a scowl on her face. 

You raised an eyebrow, “hey?” 

“We need to talk,” she huffed, looking rather tired, maybe with the way people stopped the second they sensed any drama, and why wouldn’t they? You both were the centre of it given the circumstances. 

“Do we really?” You gave her a lazy look, knowing well it bothered her. 

Her jaw clenched. “You kissed Heeseung. In front of everyone. While he was still with me.”

A couple more heads turned. You could feel eyes on you now, phones probably already sliding out of pockets.

You let out a short breath, almost a laugh, “while he was still with you? That’s rich. Last time I checked, you were the one fucking my boyfriend in his dorm with the door wide open. I walked in on you two, actually. So maybe don’t lecture me about cheating.”

Mina’s cheeks flushed, “that’s not the same—”

“It kind of is,” you cut in, keeping your voice even, “Heeseung didn’t deserve to find out like that, neither of us did, but at least I didn’t sneak around for months like a coward. And yeah, I kissed him—I’d do it again. He’s too good for the way you two treated him.”

Mina’s eyes flashed with anger, “you’re no better than me. You basically cheated too—”

“Bro, are you actually serious right now?”

A tall guy with messy black hair and a skateboard tucked under his arm stepped out from the edge of the crowd. You’d seen him around in a couple electives. He looked Mina up and down, completely unimpressed, having seen the scene at the party in flesh too. 

“Everyone’s seen the video,” he said, loud enough that the people nearby nodded, “I literally saw you and Jaemin at the party. You’re the one who cheated, leave her alone.”

A girl a few feet away nodded like she agreed. Mina glanced around at all the stares, lips pressed tight, then spun on her heel and shoved through the crowd, practically running toward the exit.

You let out a real laugh this time, almost like you couldn’t believe this was real, that your own friend would turn against you in such a manner. Riki turned to you, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Damn,” he said, “that was satisfying.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, still chuckling as you started walking again, “thanks for stepping in. You really didn’t have to.”

He shrugged, falling into step beside you, “she’s been trying to change the perception, i saw her lying to my friend earlier. Someone had to say it. I’m Riki by the way, or Ni-ki, whatever.”

“Y/N,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly, “seriously, I owe you a coffee for that.”

“Bet,” he smirked, already pulling his phone out, “just text me whenever. I’m free most afternoons.”

Ten feet away, half-hidden behind a cluster of students, Heeseung had stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Jay almost walked straight into his back, headphones on so conveniently, he missed the whole commotion. 

“You good?” He asked, lifting one side of his headphones, “Heeseung?” He asked yet again when he didn’t get a reply. 

How would he? When Heeseung was deep in thoughts, the tips of his ears red. Everyone knew he was the guy who kept to himself, not the kind to insert himself into a fight—eventually leading to him never getting into a situation where he’d have to defend himself. 

But you did it so naturally with not a single hint of him witnessing the scene. It was heartwarming to say the least, the way you defended him so casually but your tone clearly portraying the care you harboured for him, even if it was little (as per Heeseung and his never ending self doubt). 

Before Jay could wave a hand in front of his face, Jake came barreling around the corner like he was late for everything in life, backpack slipping off one shoulder. Without missing a beat he lunged forward, locking an arm around Heeseung’s neck and yanking him down into a tight headlock. 

“Spill it right now—the hell did you do with Y/N last night, huh? I’m not letting go till you talk, dude, I swear to god—”

Much to his dismay, Heeseung pushed him off with ease, “the fuck? Get off,” he said, staring at Jake who looked like he hadn’t slept at all. 

Jay was completely lost, headphones now resting on his neck, “what am I missing here exactly? What even happened?”

Heeseung groaned, “nothing happened—” 

“Nah, he took Y/N to his room and then I heard moans. Moans—do you fucking get it? He’s actually fucking her.” Jake ranted, eyes blown wide. 

Jay’s eyebrows shot up, “wait, what? For real?”

Heeseung shoved Jake off properly this time, cheeks burning as he fixed his hoodie, “It’s not—fuck, can you not yell that in the middle of the hallway?”

Jake threw his hands up, looking genuinely offended, “I’m sorry, I was trying to eat pizza and process the fact that my dream girl was getting railed by my roommate. You could’ve at least given me a heads-up, man.”

Jay let out a low whistle, finally catching on. He crossed his arms, which had gotten muscular somehow, “so, you and Y/N? Like, actually?”

Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, ears still red, “we have an arrangement of sorts. No strings attached, that’s it.”

Jake stared at him like he’d been shot in the chest, “no strings? She deserves love, she deserves aftercare and pampering and—”

Jay was never good at hiding his amusement, especially if it consisted of embarrassing one of his friends, “you sure you can actually do the no-strings thing? You’re the guy who gets attached after one good conversation. Remember that girl from school who just smiled at you in the library and you were googling how to ask someone on a date at two a.m.?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Heeseung muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched with his mind drifting back to you. 

Jake however, wasn’t done. He threw his hands up again, “I’m serious, I even fucking dropped the pizza slice she ate from.”

Jay snorted, “you’re never gonna let that go noq, are you?”

“Never,” Jake said, dead serious, “that could’ve been our indirect kiss.”

Heeseung shook his head, finally starting to walk again so they wouldn’t be late for class, “It’s fine. We’re both adults, it’ll be okay.”

Jay fell into step beside him, clapping him on the back a little too hard, “yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, I give it ten days before you’re buying her flowers and writing her name in your notes with hearts around it.”

“Two weeks,” Jake corrected, still sulking, “max.”

Heeseung didn’t bother arguing. He just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, the stupid little smile refusing to leave his face completely.

You, meanwhile, had no idea any of that chaos had just exploded behind you. You groaned, sitting down on the couch, despising the silence that greeted you. Winter had gone to her family home for her cousin’s wedding, and Sunoo had conveniently decided to spend the night over at Hoon’s to torture him with some horror movie. 

And you were here, unsure of what to do tonight, and the newfound interest you’d found within your ex’s best friend. 

Whatever this was, it was definitely going to be interesting.

Turns out, the night wasn’t about to be boring at all. You had just gotten under the warmth of your duvet as your phone lit up, a text brightening your lock screen. Evidently, you seemed to be lurking in Heeseung’s mind as much as he had started persisting in yours. 

Heeseung: you up?  You: that’s such a fuckboy question  Heeseung: oh shit i didnt mean it that way You: hm? what’s it then  Heeseung: js felt like texting 

You clicked your tongue, rolling to your side, phone propped up against your fluffy pink pillow. 

You: mhm sure You: what are you doing rn then

The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped up again—a proper reminder of how Heeseung’s personality shone through even through his texting patterns. 

Heeseung: just lying in bed Heeseung: can’t sleep for some reason

A second later your phone vibrated with a picture, a selfie to be precise. It was rather cinematic how Heeseung appeared to look even prettier with dim lights, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, no shirt, just the chain he always wore catching the light. He looked way too good for someone who was just lying in bed, lips slightly parted and swollen like he’d been biting them. The angle showed the sharp line of his collarbone and that adam’s apple, a few marks evident on his skin, courtesy of you. 

You stared for a second longer than you meant to, completely zoned in how beautiful a few marks made him look. 

You: oh wow  You: don’t you look dashing at one in the morning 

Heeseung only let out a breathy laugh, clearly preening under your praise, as if he hadn’t clicked eight pictures just so he could send you the most perfect one, in his standards at least. 

Heeseung: your turn 

The corner of your lip twitched up as you sat a little, tugged the neckline of your oversized tee down just enough so the soft swell of your tits spilled over the fabric, nipples barely hidden. You angled the camera, snapped it, and hit send without overthinking, knowing that the reply would come within seconds, and so it did. 

Heeseung: fuck Heeseung: you’re actually evil

You laughed under your breath and sent another one right after, taking off your tee fully, letting him know how hard your nipples had gotten already. 

You: now you. don’t be shy baby

Heeseung sent back a shot of his hand shoved down his sweats, gripping himself. The outline was obvious, the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband, flushed and already leaking. Then another one—his hand mid-stroke, thumb smearing the precum over the head. A low, rather shaky breath left his lips in the process, and he swore he hadn’t ever been the type to be so—so evidently horny before. 

You’d say you bring out the worst in people, but Heeseung would contradict it with a goofy smile saying how it’s the absolute best. With that thought, he hit sent. 

Heeseung: this is what you do to me

Your mouth went dry, the picture being enough for you to spread your legs under the duvet, only to push the duvet away entirely before angling your phone properly to ensure the slick on your cunt would be visible in the picture. 

You: see what you’re missing? Heeseung: jesus christ i’m actually throbbing

You bit down on your bottom lip, absolutely letting the pleasure of having Heeseung in control take over. So, instead of texting back, you tapped the voice message button and held it down.

Your voice came through low and teasing, a little breathy already.

“Aw, poor baby, you’re throbbing just from a picture? C’mon, lemme hear how good it feels, hm?”

You sent it without thinking twice, and he was quick to listen, his dick twitching just as he heard your voice. A few seconds later his voice message came back—husky, a little embarrassed, but clearly turned on. 

“Fuck—you’re so mean,” he whispered, which almost came out as a whine, “I’m so hard it hurts. I’m stroking it slow at first, like this—” You could hear the faint, wet sound of his hand moving, “but I keep thinking about how wet you looked in that last pic. Want my mouth on you so bad right now.”

You caressed your clit gently, letting your head fall back at his not so shy admissions. It was hot how he didn’t shy away from speaking his mind. 

“Hmm, good boy—keep stroking just like that. Faster now, I want to hear how desperate you sound for me. Tell me exactly what you’d do if you were here.”

His next voice message was even shakier, breathing heavier.

“I’d pull you on top of me, let you grind on my cock while you tell me how you want it. Fuck—I’d let you use me however you want. I’d suck on your tits while you ride me, make you moan my name louder, please take my name, please?”

You let out a soft, breathy moan right into your reply.

“Yeah? You like when I boss you around, Heeseung? Touch yourself exactly how I would. Tighten your grip—I know you’re close already, aren’t you?”

Heeseung’s voice cracked in the next voice note, barely above a whisper.

“Shit—yeah, I’m so close, your voice is driving me insane. Ah, fuck, wanna bury my face between your thighs right now—”

You were breathing harder too, fingers moving faster. You sent one last voice message, letting your voice be sultry. 

“Then cum for me, Hee. Let me hear it. I want you moaning my name when you do.”

That did it for him, he could barely even keep the phone in his hand, shivering at the hyper awareness of it all, of you. 

Somehow, you knew exactly the predicament he was undergoing, and you decided to spare the poor man, hitting the call button to free his hands. He picked up after a single ring. 

“Fuck—you’re actually perfect,” he panted, the wet sound of his hand still audible. “I’ve never been this gone from just voice messages before.”

You laughed softly, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a quiet moan, “then don’t stop. Stroke it faster for me, yeah? Be good, I want to hear every sound you make while you think about fucking me.”

Heeseung groaned, clearly trying (and failing) to stay quiet because of his friends, who were in the living room. “Feels so good but it’s not enough—I keep imagining you riding me, telling me to go harder, shit,—”

“You’re doing so well,” you praised, clenching around your fingers as he moans out your name, “imagine it’s my pussy instead of your hand. I’m so fucking wet for you right now. You’d slide in so easy, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah—fuck, I would,” he whimpered, “I’d let you use me however you want. I’d let you choke me while you ride me, I don’t even care anymore—”

You moaned louder, fingers curling just right, “yeah, yeah, just keep talking like that and I’m gonna cum, be good c’mon, you’ll cum with me, yeah?”

Heeseung’s breathing turned ragged, desperate little sounds slipping out, “i’m so close—gonna—fuck, Y/N—”

You came first, moaning his name all soft and filthy into the phone. He followed right after with a choked groan, trying to muffle it against his pillow but failing miserably, and god knows what would happen if Sunoo (who was there all thanks to Sunghoon) was to witness this. 

For a long moment the only thing between you was heavy breathing.

Then Heeseung let out a soft, wrecked little laugh, making you grin lazily, “you did so well, Hee.”

He didn’t expect that, making him whine again, and you swore you could run to see him all flushed and blushing, “you’re so perfect.”

Your breath hitched at his whispered words, gulping as you stayed silent, letting your breathing even out. He was quiet for a beat too, but his mind wasn’t stopping at that. 

“Hey, uh I saw what you did earlier, in the hallway, with Mina.”

You blinked, surprised, “wait, you were there?”

“Yeah. I was a little further back, but i heard everything.” His voice dropped, almost like he was in awe, “the way you shut her down for me—defended me like that without even thinking. It was really fucking hot. Couldn’t stop thinking about it all night, that’s why I texted you.”

You let out a low chuckle at how unpredictable he was, “so that’s the real reason you were sending me nudes and moaning my name like a desperate little slut at one a.m., huh?”

If praises led Heeseung to moan, the degradation caused him to cry—not in a bad way of course. It was new for him too, as if he was learning about himself through you. And the voice you heard was beautiful, a broken cry of his desperation. 

“I see you’re into degradation,” you pointed out. 

“Fucking hell, even I didn’t know,” he breathed out, eyes closing. 

You only smirked, getting closer to the phone now.

“Wanna test how it plays out?”

“Why the fuck did Hoon just tell me you’re fucking Heeseung?” 

It was rather hard to distinguish his tone when he sounded both impressed and mad. Turns out, he was mad since he didn’t hear it from you first, then, he was impressed with how fast you moved on. Regardless, he didn’t let you live that down, trying to force the group together, only to see Heeseung squirming and you being absolutely normal. 

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, still in the oversized hoodie you’d thrown on after your morning shower, when Sunoo burst through the door, Winter followed, sipping an iced latte and looking far too amused for someone who was supposed to be your emotional support. And so another interrogation session took place, which you survived (somehow). 

Other than that, things had been normal. A few changes did occur such as you all having lunch together, even Winter invited her girlfriend, making the group seem livelier than ever. Jake made it his mission to sit next to you each time, and Heeseung—well, he stared at you more than he ate. 

That pattern followed you straight into your English lecture later that afternoon. You slipped into your usual seat in the middle row, barely five minutes late, when Riki dropped into the chair right beside you, and you looked up at him, surprised. 

Heeseung walked in later, eyes on how you greeted the guy easily, and with that, he almost walked into someone. He could only manage to groan, because why wouldn’t you talk to him? To be fair, you did talk to him, like a friend, but never more, no initiation of any sort. Heeseung was the one who texted first, and he didn’t mind, but with how soft hearted he was, he probably wouldn’t mind you texting first either. 

That being said, Heeseung was basically sulk incarnate watching how you made plans to give Riki a coffee for some reason—was it a date? Why would you even like that tall kid? Heeseung knew you better despite the little time he spent with you. It was a given that you didn’t offer much about yourself despite your outgoing personality, but he did know how you played with your nails, how your eyes go wide when you eat something good, and how fucking good you sound moaning his name. 

“We’re all going to the cafe,” Sunoo chirped the second you stepped outside after the class, Heeseung following behind to see all his friends standing there too. 

You did find it odd how he was silent today, too silent, even worse when he didn’t try to initiate any conversation with you, just falling into step with his friends instead. His hands were shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, shoulders a little hunched as the group started moving.

Halfway there he slowed down just enough to tug Jay’s sleeve, voice low and trying way too hard to sound casual, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

Jay only raised his brow, urging him to continue, “uh, so when we sit down, maybe ask Y/N something that’ll get her talking, like the stuff going on in her life, just anything.”

Jay stopped dead for half a second, then let out a loud, wheezing laugh that practically bounced off the buildings. The sound was so sudden and genuine that you actually turned around mid-conversation with Karina and Winter, eyebrows raised like you were trying to figure out what was so funny. Jay just waved you off, still cracking up as he clapped Heeseung on the back a little too hard.

“You’re actually hopeless,” Jay wheezed, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, “just talk to her yourself, what the fuck.”

Heeseung shoved him off, cheeks hot, “shut up, man. Just—just do it, okay? Please.”

They caught up to the rest of the group right as you all reached the café. The usual corner table was free, so everyone piled in. Jake, of course, immediately dropped into the seat next to you like it was his assigned spot now. Heeseung ended up straight across from you, eyes meeting yours, but this time, he didn’t look away. The corner of your lips twitched seeing him this way, and soon, he found himself smiling fondly too. 

Jay sat there as a witness to Heeseung’s internal breakdown, and well, happiness caused by two seconds of your undivided attention. In the midst of it all, everyone gave their orders, famished beyond words for some reason. The table was lively still, Jake trying to initiate conversations with you, even though Heeseung had not so subtly kicked him under the table to shut him up. 

Jay waited until there was a small lull, then leaned forward with that lazy grin of his.

“So Y/N,” he said casually, like it was no big deal, “what’s the deal with you and Heeseung lately? You two been hanging out a lot or what? He’s been weirdly smiley these days.”

Heeseung’s heart did a stupid little flip, face clearly trying to play it cool, but his eyes were glued to you, waiting.

You took a sip of your drink and shrugged, knowing that if you say anything remotely wrong, Sunoo and Winter would be on your ass about it, “it’s nice hanging out with him, he’s funny.”

Jay snorted at how Heeseung’s smile widened, “funny, huh? That’s all you’re giving us?”

Before you could answer, Jake jumped in, mouth full of his cup ramen, which he somehow got into the cafe, “god, I shouldn’t have gotten Shin, I’m telling you, nothing beats Buldak. You team Buldak too, Y/N?”

Heeseung looked rather offended, “nah, Shin’s better, broth tastes better too.”

Jake immediately turned to you with those big puppy eyes, “c’mon, tell him he’s wrong. Buldak or nothing, right?”

Sunoo and Sunghoon couldn’t even stand this, staring at Jake with the same expression of disgust, his fascination for you was genuinely funny. 

You looked up at Hee, who waited for your answer with shiny eyes, then back at Jake again. Maybe teasing Heeseung wouldn’t hurt, right? Especially when he looked so innocent and serious about your input as if it mattered. 

“I mean, Buldak is definitely good,” you agreed with Jake, taking another sip of your mango matcha. 

Jake beamed at the reply, bumping your shoulder. But Heeseung’s smile faltered for a second, and you almost frowned, not expecting him to surrender, “yeah, fair enough,” he muttered, staying silent the rest of the time, eyes flicking up to you every few seconds, while you observed him openly.

Jay only sighed, and somehow Winter was just as exhausted at the exchange, because Heeseung couldn’t hide his feelings to save his life, and you?

You were missing the point of this little conversation entirely. 

When everyone finally started packing up for their next lectures, the group split off in different directions. You noticed Heeseung hanging back a little, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders still hunched as he walked alone. With a chuckle, you jogged a couple steps, and grabbed his hand.

Heeseung startled hard, eyes going wide as he looked down at your fingers laced with his, and how perfect your new acrylics looked, the touch being enough to make a shiver go up his spine, “Y/N—?”

You only walked further, swinging your joined hands, “why so silent today?” You asked, looking up at him with a brow raised. 

He let out a small breath, eyes flickering back to where your thumb brushed his knuckles, “it’s nothing, just thinking I guess.”

“Hm, about how I picked Buldak over Shin?” You tilted your head, “you got all quiet after that. Kinda cute, actually.”

Heeseung glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself, “It’s not that, but Jake looked happy, so—yeah.”

“Shin’s my favourite actually, I only said Buldak to see you fight back, but yeah,” you shrugged with a smile. 

Heeseung’s head snapped back toward you, surprised, “wait, really?”

“Yeah. Remember that night we ran into each other at the convenience store? You were grabbing Shin too, I noticed.” You pointed out, “and you barely ate anything at the café either. Come over later? We can have ramen together.”

Heeseung’s steps slowed at the implication, and it showed on his face, mixed with the fondness of the simple fact that you noticed such little things. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed grand gestures, yes he’d appreciate it, but the little things mattered more. 

“You—noticed that?” He asked quietly, almost shy.

You hummed, then leaned up on your toes, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “you can eat something else too if you want.”

That sent him into this mode of short circuiting, and before he could even form a reply, you let go of his hand with a bright, mischievous laugh and took off running ahead across the path, glancing back at him over your shoulder with that same playful grin.

Heeseung stood there for half a second, face burning, your words looping in his head like a damn song on repeat. Then a big, flustered smile broke across his face and he took off after you, knowing he’d catch up to you in no time. 

“Fuck,” he yelled, half-laughing as he chased you down the walkway, “you can’t just say that and run—get back here!”

He really hoped it could always stay this easy with you.

You fell on your mattress with a thud, the springs creaking under the sudden weight of both of you. Heeseung landed right on top, chest pressed to yours, mouth already chasing yours in a hungry, desperate kiss that tasted like the faint strawberry from his drink earlier. 

His lips were hot and insistent, tongue sliding against yours like he couldn’t get close enough, letting out every bit of his frustration into this kiss. One of his hands shoved under your hoodie and straight into your shorts, two fingers gliding through your slick folds before pushing inside you without hesitation. You gasped into his mouth, thighs falling open wider as he curled them deep, stroking that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathed against your lips, and you only sank in further, kissing all the way down to his neck, letting an open mouthed kiss linger on his adam’s apple, feeling it blobbing under you as he gulped in need, as if parched. 

Heeseung let out a shaky groan, fingers stuttering inside you for a second before he doubled down, thrusting them deeper, curling harder, “shit—you’re gonna make me lose it just from that.”

You smiled against his throat, sucking lightly, then dragged your teeth over the same spot while your hand kept working his cock in slow, tight strokes. He was throbbing in your palm, hot and slick with precum, hips twitching every time your thumb swept over the head, and you almost moaned cause he was big. 

But it wasn’t enough, you wanted him under you, wanted to watch him fall apart.

You pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back in one smooth motion. Heeseung let out a surprised grunt as you straddled his thighs, yanking his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and glistening, curving up against his stomach.

Wrapping your fingers around his base as you leaned in to give his tip a slow kiss, making him moan shamelessly, “wait—you don’t have to,” he managed to let out. 

You looked up at him, lips brushing the wet slit as you spoke, “I know, I want to,” you whispered, “been thinking about having you in my mouth since you were sulking on the way here, just to apologize, y’know?”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, “god—you’re serious?”

Instead of answering, you took him in, lips stretching around the thick head, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank down. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and warm, and you moaned softly around his length.

“Shit—baby,” Heeseung’s hand flew to your hair, holding on like he needed something to ground him, his thighs tensing under you, “your mouth feels—so fucking good.”

You hummed in response, taking him deeper until he bumped the back of your throat. You relaxed around him, swallowing, and he let out a broken groan, hips twitching up before he caught himself.

“Sorry—gosh I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. 

You pulled off just enough to speak, lips shiny, a thin string of spit still connecting you to him, “don’t apologize. Fuck my throat if you want to.” You stroked him slow and firm, eyes locked on his, “I can take it, I want you to use me.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened. He’d never done this before, sure he’d gotten blowjobs, but the permission to take in full control of it? Oh, he swore he was gonna die, “you’re gonna kill me saying shit like that.”

You chuckled and sank back down, taking him all the way until your nose brushed his stomach. You held there for a second, throat fluttering around him, before you started moving, wet bobs of your head, hand twisting around the base.

Heeseung’s head fell back against the pillow, a wrecked moan spilling out, “fuck, fuck—oh my god.” His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing, but guiding you a little now, testing the waters, “you like this? Being on your knees for me?”

You moaned around him in answer, the vibration making his hips jerk. You pulled off with a gasp, spit dripping down your chin, “I like when you stop being so polite and just take what you want.” You licked a slow stripe up the underside, eyes never leaving his, “you’re always so sweet, Hee, but i also know how desperate you are, won’t you show it to me like a good fucking boy?”

Heeseung’s breath stuttered, it was almost like a switch flipping. His grip in your hair tightened just a fraction more, and when you took him back in, he let himself thrust up a little, shallow and careful at first.

“Like this?” He asked, voice strained, “tell me if it’s too much.”

You pulled off just enough to speak, lips brushing the head, “Harder, I can take it. Use my throat, baby.”

The words seemed to break something in him. He groaned deep in his chest and started moving his hips with more purpose, fucking into your mouth in short, needy thrusts. You relaxed your throat and let him, moaning encouragement around his cock every time he pushed deeper.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re so good,” he panted, voice cracking, “so fucking good at this. Look at you—taking me so deep.” His free hand came down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek while he watched himself disappear between your lips, “I didn’t know I liked this so much, watching you choke on me.”

You moaned louder, the praise and the way he was starting to lose control making heat flood between your legs. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Heeseung’s head tipped back again, a string of curses falling from his lips.

“Baby—slow down or I’m gonna cum,” he warned, but his hips kept moving, like he couldn’t stop himself,  “you’re really gonna let me cum down your throat?”

You pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast and tight, lips hovering just over the tip, “let me taste you.”

Heeseung’s eyes rolled back as he came with a broken moan of your name, hips jerking as he spilled down your throat in hot pulses. You swallowed every drop, working him through it until he was trembling and oversensitive, little whimpers slipping out every time your tongue moved.

When you finally pulled off, lips swollen and shiny, Heeseung was staring at you like you’d rewired his brain. His chest was heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and hazy.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice shot, “I didn’t know I could like something that much.”

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smirking as you crawled up his body and kissed him slowly, letting him taste himself on your tongue.

“You’re learning fast,” you murmured against his lips. “and we’re just getting started.”

So, you were true to your word, because by the time you both stopped, all breathless and spent, it was nighttime. In the midst of everything, you both had managed to fall asleep tangled with each other. Heeseung was the one to wake up first, caressing your cheek as he stared at how peacefully you slept in his arms. 

He stayed like that for a long minute, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, watching the way your lashes rested against your skin. Something heavy settled in his chest—not regret exactly, but a quiet, gnawing guilt that refused to leave him alone.

Carefully, he slipped out from under you, tucking the blanket around your bare shoulders so you wouldn’t get cold. He padded over to the window on quiet feet, pushing the curtain aside just enough to look out at the dark sky. The campus lights glowed faintly in the distance, stars barely visible through the city haze.

Heeseung pressed his forehead against the cool glass, exhaling slowly. What the fuck am I doing? The thought looped in his head. He’d loved Mina—or at least he’d told himself he did. They’d been together for over a year. But even on the best nights with her, he’d never felt this—free, this wanted. With you, you didn’t ask him to be anything other than exactly who he was in the moment, needy, desperate, a little mean when you pushed him, soft when you let him hold you after. Just a hint of your attention made his chest feel too full and that scared the shit out of him.

Because he’d sworn he loved Mina. But this? He wasn’t even sure what to name this feeling anymore, and it felt dramatic when nothing had even happened, just freedom and the best pleasure he’d ever experienced. 

The floor creaked softly behind him, making him turn his head to find you sitting up in bed now, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep. Without saying anything, you reached for his hoodie that had been tossed on the floor earlier and pulled it over your head. It swallowed you, the hem brushing your thighs as you padded over barefoot to stand beside him.

You leaned your shoulder against the window frame, looking out at the same dark sky. For a moment neither of you spoke.

“You okay?” You asked eventually, voice soft.

Heeseung, however, was in deep thoughts of silent appreciation, because you looked beautiful, you always did, “yeah,” he let out a quiet breath, “I feel like an asshole for even saying this out loud, but—I don’t remember it ever feeling this easy with Mina, even when things were good. With you it’s just different. Like I don’t have to pretend or hold back or be anyone else. I don’t know. That probably sounds stupid.”

You stayed quiet for a second, then bumped your shoulder gently against his, “it doesn’t sound stupid. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, Hee, it’s valid. You don’t owe her anything anymore, and you don’t owe me some perfect version of yourself either, okay?”

“You’re too nice to me,” he mumbled. 

You smiled, looking elsewhere for a moment as you gulped, “that’s what friends are for,” you let out. 

Heeseung turned to look at you fully, friends, is that what you were? Because friends don’t do all this. So, Heeseung only managed to muster one question, hoping the reply would be enough of an action to understand if he was truly alone in this or not.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper with the hope to earn even something as little as a nod. 

This means something more, you thought. This isn’t just sex anymore, not for him. Truly, Heeseung wasn’t even the kind to do this, so why did he agree to this? You wouldn’t mind being a rebound for him but him getting attached would be a problem. Would it really, though? You should’ve said no, but you found yourself being entranced by the beauty in his eyes. 

So, instead you stepped closer, sliding your hands up his bare chest, and tilted your face up to his, “yeah,” you whispered, “you can.”

Heeseung’s breath caught as he cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were something fragile, slotting his lips onto yours almost achingly gentle, this almost felt like a question and an answer all at once to him. 

When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he let out a shaky little laugh, pecking the corner of your mouth once. 

The reflection on the window catching on everything you both were too afraid to admit. 

Honestly, the fault was yours for not discussing the boundaries or making one of those contracts like they do in the movies or books (though they never work), cause now, you and Heeseung had been hanging around way more often, some witnesses might even confuse this intimacy for dating. 

Maybe Heeseung was one of them, because when he texted you to come over, you half expected sex, not sitting alongside him learning League of legends at two in the morning. He was unpredictable to say the least, but he did wear his heart on his sleeve, so you could see the bits and pieces of the things he craved, and right now, he craved your time. 

You didn’t mind giving it to him, but it did come with a cost. The second you walked into the room, eyes widening at this small corner of the desk where a mango matcha, a few blue walkers, and a pack of Ferrero Rocher was placed neatly, alongside two packets of cup noodles (just in case). 

To Heeseung, it was normal, and you would have agreed had it been some synonym of aftercare, but no. It was just Heeseung being absolutely willing (and needing) to spend more time with you outside of your fancy little arrangement. 

He had opened the door with a smile so contagious, you mirrored it as he led you inside. A small corner of his desk was full of snacks, a cup of matcha which he knew was your favourite, a couple of Ferrero Rochers because he saw you eating those during the English lecture. You stood there for a second longer than intended, staring at it all, then at the man who had already made himself comfortable on the spare chair, waiting for you with the same gentle smile he always carried around you, making you gulp for a second before you returned it. 

“C’mere? Sit with me,” he said, patting his main gaming chair right next to him, and he half expected you to tease him for doing this, “I swear I’m not trying to be weird, and if you don’t wanna do this we can stop, or you can make fun of me.”

You let out a quiet huff of a laugh and kicked your shoes off before sliding into the chair beside him. Your knee bumped his under the desk and you left it there, the contact warm even through your clothes. Heeseung rolled his own chair closer right away, leaning in from behind you so his chest brushed lightly against your back, one arm resting along the back of your seat while the other reached around to the mouse, and you didn’t notice how he took in your scent with a dreamy sigh. 

“We’re playing League of Legends?” You asked, and he nodded. 

“Have you played it before?” He asked a little hesitant that you’d say you don’t wish to play or indulge in this. 

“Nope,” you said, reaching for the matcha because your mouth suddenly felt dry. The cup was ice-cold, condensation dripping down your fingers as you took a sip, “I’m probably gonna suck at this, just so you know.”

Heeseung let out a small laugh, relieved that you aren’t opposed to this, “that’s fine, we can start from the basics,” he covered your hand with his on the mouse, guiding you through the first clicks. “You just run at people and spin when they get close. Super easy, I promise.”

His fingers were warm over yours, almost careful like he was scared you’d pull away. You felt the way his chest moved against your back when he breathed, the faint brush of his hair against your neck every time he leaned in a little closer to see the screen better.

You clicked around awkwardly and Garen just kind of—stood there swinging his sword at nothing, “this feels dumb,” you muttered, but you were smiling a little, “I look like a robot trying to dance.”

Heeseung bit his bottom lip at the sheer joy of having you play his favourite game, even though you looked lost, confused, and too adorable, “you don’t look dumb. You look cute as hell trying to figure it out.” He squeezed your hand gently and moved the mouse for you, making Garen run forward. “See? Just click on this, okay?”

You tried it and Garen spun like a big metal tornado, actually hitting a couple of the little enemy guys, “oh okay, that was kinda fun,” you admitted, biting your lip to hide the grin. You reached for one of the Ferrero Rochers with your free hand, unwrapped it, and popped it in your mouth. The chocolate melted sweet and crunchy on your tongue, “how’d you know I like this.”

Heeseung shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against yours, “I pay attention to you, sue me.” He took the half you offered him without hesitation, biting it right from your fingers, his lips brushing your skin for a second too long.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the little flutter in your stomach at how brutally honest he was. He pays attention, he set all this up just so you’d feel comfortable doing something he likes. This isn’t what you signed up for, this is him wanting you around, not just in his bed. Stop feeling it. Stop.

The game kept going, as you died a bunch—running straight into the big tower like an idiot, getting smacked by random enemies—but Heeseung never made you feel stupid about it. He’d just lean in closer, chin resting on your shoulder now, arm wrapped a little tighter around the back of your chair, and murmur stuff like, “try backing up a tiny bit next time, yeah?” Or, “you’re getting the spin down though, that last one actually hit three of them, nice.”

You passed him chips from the blue walkers packet, your fingers brushing his every time. He took them without pulling away, crunching quietly while his other hand stayed on the mouse with yours, guiding you through another wave.

Heeseung couldn’t say this out loud but boy was he thrilled. It felt so nice, so domestic to do something so simple with someone (you). He couldn’t help but compare, simply because he didn’t know the basic possibilities of the relationship universe, though you weren’t in one. His ex never spared time for such things, indifferent about his interests, while you were so—sweet. 

“You’ve done this before? Teaching someone like this, I mean?” You asked after a while, “or am I getting special treatment?”

Heeseung went quiet for a second, then let out a breathy little laugh against your neck, “special treatment,” he admitted, no hesitation, “and no, it’s my first time teaching anyone.”

You leaned back into him a little more without thinking, the warmth of his chest solid and comforting against your back, the kind of solace that you had never had the pleasure of experiencing before. Was it supposed to be this easy? 

The snacks slowly disappeared between you—another Ferrero passed back and forth, the mango matcha cup getting lighter with every sip you took. Heeseung kept talking about random shit that had nothing to do with the game. How Jake had stolen his last ramen again, how he stayed up last night thinking about if aliens eat solid food, or if the Thestrals from Harry Potter can see each other or not. 

You told him about the fanpage you had at fifteen, he listened like it was the most interesting thing ever, thumb stroking slow circles on the back of your hand the whole time.

At some point the first game ended. You were still pretty bad, but you weren’t frustrated anymore. Heeseung’s arm had stayed around you the whole time, his chin heavy on your shoulder, breathing warm against your skin.

He didn’t queue another match right away, instead he just sat there for a second, arms loose around your waist, like he was thinking.

“C’mere,” he murmured, voice a little rough as his hands slid to your hips and he tugged you gently, pulling you straight off the spare chair and into his lap like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your back settled fully against his chest, thighs bracketing his, his arms wrapping around you properly so he could still reach everything if he wanted. The chair creaked once under both of you. You fit too well, way too well.

He rested his chin back on your shoulder and clicked into another custom game like nothing had changed, but his arms stayed tight around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go.

“What are we doing, Hee?” You asked in a low mumble. 

Heeseung went still, arms locking tighter around your waist like the question had burned him, he was afraid you’d bring it up and that’s exactly what you did. You felt him swallow hard, breath shaky against your neck.

He opted to answer with his actions instead, turning your face toward him with one hand and kissing you, lips pressing firm like he’d been dying to do it. His tongue slid in right away, tasting like chocolate and the mango you’d been sharing all night. He made this quiet, embarrassed little sound in his throat and kissed you harder, fingers sliding into your hair to hold you there.

You tried to pull back half an inch, though absolutely feeling your heartbeat fastening at how good the kiss, the warmth felt, “Hee, wait—”

He chased your mouth instantly, cutting you off with another kiss, deeper this time, tongue lazy and filthy against yours. His hand slipped under your top, palm hot and a little unsteady on your bare waist, thumb stroking slow circles like he needed to feel your skin to stay sane. He was breathing hard through his nose, cheeks burning against yours, but he wouldn’t let you speak. Every single time your lips parted he was right there again, kissing you quiet, desperate and messy like talking would ruin whatever this was.

“Bed,” he mumbled against your mouth. He stood up with you still in his lap, hands under your thighs, and carried you the few steps across the room. The second your back hit the mattress he was on top of you, settling between your legs and kissing you again before you could even breathe.

This time it was slower but no less intense. His tongue moved against yours in these long, deep strokes while one hand pushed further under your top, palm flat on your stomach, sliding up until his fingers brushed the edge of your bra. His other hand stayed tangled in your hair, tugging gently every time you tried to talk. He was so fucking flustered—ears red, breath shaky, little embarrassed groans slipping out whenever you rolled your hips up into him—but he still wouldn’t let you ask.

Every time you opened your mouth he swallowed it with another kiss, and you groaned, pulling him into you deeper, letting him showcase his feelings through whatever this was, and you understood it, but couldn’t stop it or ask any further, because you knew he’d deflect as if it scared him. 

As if  the only answer he could give was this.

You were decent at saying no, in fact, some might even admit how good you were at it, blunt as fuck. But that ability was limited to the world and it most certainly didn’t apply to this glorious six foot tall man who wished for you to join him at the basketball court. You could have made up some excuse, maybe tell him you have a lab report due, but you didn’t do that—because you wanted to go. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” said Winter, watching you change into a loose t-shirt and old shorts, “you hate sports. You once told me basketball was just a bunch of giants running in circles. Now you’re rushing out at night because Heeseung said come watch me play? And you’re dressing up the part too?”

You shrugged, tying your hair up, “It’s not that deep. I’m bored.”

“Sure, tell yourself that,” she mumbled with her brow raised. 

Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong, but you didn’t care much as you made your way out towards the court which was lit up by some harsh floodlights, looking over to find some guys already deep in the game. You could spot Heeseung, Chenle, Beomgyu, and Sunghoon—t-shirts sticking to their backs. 

Nics (Chenle’s girlfriend) and Moon (Sunghoon’s girlfriend) were already on the bleachers with their chaotic friend, Ricey, who always carried snacks in her bag. The second they spotted you, Nics waved you over with a grin, patting the spot next to her. 

Heeseung was mid-dribble when his head snapped in your direction, the ball bouncing once before he caught it against his hip. Even from across the court you could see the way his face softened, that small, stupidly genuine smile breaking through like usual. He lifted his free hand in a quick wave. 

“Yo, Y/N’s here!” Chenle shouted, grinning like an idiot as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt, “perfect timing, let’s do girls versus boys now.”

Nics hopped off the bleachers first, already pulling her hair up, “final-fucking-ly. Come on, we’re making this four on four.”

Moon laughed and stood up too, nudging Ricey, “you in or are you just gonna sit there eating chips the whole time?”

Ricey popped another chip in her mouth before standing, “I’m in, but if I break a nail I’m blaming all of you.”

You didn’t get a chance to sit as you got dragged into the court. Heeseung jogged over to you, still breathing a little hard, hair messy and damp. Up close he smelled like sweat and that familiar woody cologne, and the way he looked at you made you shiver. 

“You actually came,” he breathed, grabbing your arm without thinking much at all. 

“Couldn’t let you embarrass yourself alone,” you replied, stealing the ball from his hands just to mess with him. He laughed, eyes crinkling, and for a second it felt like the rest of the court disappeared.

But boy was it chaotic with Moon just distracting Hoon half the time, Nics and Chenle spent the time arguing—which was clearly their way of flirting, meanwhile Ricey was enjoying the drama in the middle of this all. The game was messy, and oh so loud.

You mostly ended up guarding Heeseung, and he was clearly not focused on winning anymore.

The first time you drove past him, he barely tried to block you, just let you slip by with this stupid little smile on his face. When you scored, he was the first one clapping, muttering under his breath, “fuck, that was hot,” loud enough for Beomgyu to hear and immediately start laughing.

“You’re not even guarding her properly!” Sunghoon yelled, hands on his knees, “you just watched her score and looked proud as hell!”

Heeseung didn’t even deny it, just shrugged, eyes still locked on you as you dribbled back. 

“She’s fast,” he said, but the way he said it was way too soft, and he wondered why he called you with others around when he should’ve done this one on one, but even then, he was thrilled to see you fit in so well with everyone. 

The court lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt, your oversized t-shirt clung to your skin in damp patches, the thin cotton sticking to the curve of your waist and the small of your back every time you moved. Heeseung’s eyes kept dropping to where the hem rode up every time you moved, and honestly? You liked it.

You caught the ball again and drove straight at him. This time his hand found your waist right away, palm warm through the damp fabric, thumb brushing under the hem like he couldn’t help himself. You spun past anyway, shoulder bumping his chest, and laid it up clean. When you landed he was still there, fingers lingering on your hip for a second longer than necessary.

“Shit, you’re good,” he muttered by your ear.

Beomgyu groaned loud enough for everyone to hear, “Heeseung, your hand was literally on her the whole time!”

Sunghoon just shook his head, “I can’t watch this anymore.”

A few plays later you slowed right in front of him, dribbling lazy, then hit him with the pout—bottom lip out, eyes big. Heeseung’s shoulders dropped instantly, “come on, that’s cheating,” he whined, but he was already stepping aside, hand sliding to your hip again as you blew past and scored.

Ricey started cracking up from the fence. “He folded. Let’s fucking go!”

Nics and Moon were dying, “Y/N, you’re actually evil,” Moon yelled, “like—look at him.”

The game kept going like that, every time you got near him his hands were on your waist or lower back, like he needed the excuse to touch you. After one layup he caught you around the middle when you landed, pulling you back against his chest for a second, chin brushing your shoulder.

“You’re killing me out here,” he said quietly, thumb rubbing slow against your side.

You turned your head, “stop letting me win so obviously.”

“Can’t,” he admitted, fingers flexing on your hip, “can’t stop you.”

Final possession got you dribbling right up to him. He stepped up, but the second you gave him the pout he let out a soft laugh and just gave up, both hands settling on your waist.

“Go win, baby,” he whispered, not even trying to hide it anymore as you drove and laid it in clean.

Game over.

Nics scooped you up spinning you once while Moon and Ricey cheered like idiots. The second your feet hit the ground Heeseung was there, arm sliding around your waist and pulling you back against him. His t-shirt was damp against yours, heartbeat steady on your back.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured into your hair, thumb still tracing slow circles on your hip under the hem, “didn’t even wanna stop you.”

You leaned into him, grinning, “you had your hands on me the whole second half.”

“Yeah,” he said, no shame at all, “felt too good.”

Heeseung didn’t get to talk more as a fuming Chenle grabbed his collar and dragged him away for what seemed to be some good beating. 

Moon and Nics immediately grabbed your arms at the opportunity and pulled you a few steps away, cornering you near the fence while Heeseung was distracted talking (arguing) to Chenle.

“Okay, spill,” Moon said, “what the hell is going on with you two? Because that was not subtle.”

Nics nodded, still half-laughing, “girl, he had his hands on your waist like every single play. He’s so into you it’s actually funny.”

You tried to play it cool, wiping sweat off your neck with the bottom of your shirt, “It’s not like that. We’re just—hanging out? No strings, y’know?”

They waited for you to say you’re joking, or just laugh, but then none of it came and they gasped, collectively. 

“You’re not serious,” Moon deadpanned. 

Nics’ eyes went huge, “wait. You’re actually serious.”

Ricey let out a low whistle, leaning against the fence, “damn, Y/N. I thought you were messing with us.”

You shrugged, trying to laugh it off, but the sound came out rather shaky. Your stomach did that stupid little flip again, like your body was calling you a liar before your mouth could. The cool night air on your damp neck suddenly felt too cold, and your t-shirt clung uncomfortably to your skin, “I mean, yeah, that’s the deal. We both said it from the start.”

The words felt flat even as you said them. Your eyes drifted across the court before you could stop yourself. Chenle still had Heeseung in that dramatic headlock, ranting about how embarrassing he was, but Heeseung wasn’t even pretending to fight back. His head turned and his gaze found yours instantly through the mess of hair falling in his face. That soft, stupid little smile tugged at his lips like getting chewed out didn’t matter at all. Just you did.

Your chest squeezed as you looked away, but Moon followed your stare and let out a quiet oh, “girl, look at him right now. He’s getting yelled at and he’s still staring at you like that? Come on.”

Nics nudged your side. “he had his hands on your waist literally every single time you got near him. Called you baby in front of all of us. Folded like a lawn chair the second you pouted. That’s a man catching feelings and not even trying to hide it.”

Ricey nodded, arms crossed, “for real. We were all watching, he was playing how many times can I touch my girl without getting called out.”

You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the game anymore, “It’s not like that,” you mumbled but even you could hear how unsure you sounded. The way Heeseung was still looking at you made the label feel thinner than your sweaty t-shirt.

Before anyone could push harder, Chenle finally shoved Heeseung away with one last groan. Heeseung jogged back over, hair wrecked, cheeks flushed, but his eyes were already locked on you again. His arm slid around your waist without hesitation, palm warm and familiar against the damp fabric like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You guys done roasting her yet?” He asked, voice light and a little out of breath. 

Ricey snorted, “not even close.”

Heeseung just grinned and pulled you closer, chin brushing the top of your head. You leaned into him without thinking, the solid warmth of his side against yours making that chest-tight feeling even worse. Or better, you couldn’t tell anymore.

Your newfound friends exchanged a look behind his back, but you caught it anyway.

Whatever this was—it didn’t feel like no strings anymore. Not even a little.

Heeseung always thought that his partner would an extension of his very soul, and he never achieved that. Maybe the saying can be moulded into perspectives of sort, perhaps connection wasn’t about mirroring souls but about finding someone who made the fractures feel intentional, beautiful even.

He mindlessly knocked on the door, heart drumming an uneven rhythm against his ribs, not expecting the door to open so quickly, his breath hitching at the sight of you in front of him. 

Maybe your partner isn’t supposed to be an extension of you, but rather someone who’d stand on the opposite side of the spectrum and still look like a perfect puzzle when fitted together. 

You stood there like a living poem rendered in silk—clad in a breathtaking white gown that slipped over your skin with liquid grace, the delicate fabric catching the hallway’s muted glow, the thin straps tracing the delicate architecture of your collarbones like a lover’s fingertip. It moved with you, shimmering faintly, alive with every subtle shift of your weight. Your hair styled perfectly, lips glossed to a tempting sheen, and the whole vision struck him so viscerally that the air in his lungs simply vanished.

You looked beautiful, like an angel in all white, while he stood in front of you in a black leather jacket, juxtaposing every bit of elegance you exuded. 

Heeseung forgot how to breathe quite literally as time fractured around him. His gaze dragged over you in helpless reverence, while a razor-edged thought sliced through the haze. Are you going out? On a date? With someone else? The image of another man’s eyes tracing that same silk, another hand brushing the curve of your waist beneath it, coiled hot and ugly in his chest, stealing what little breath he had left.

“Hee?” You asked with a smile, tilting your head with genuine surprise, “what are you doing here?”

He gulped, forcing his eyes back up and oxygen to cooperate within him, “you’re breathtaking,” he managed, “I forgot what I came for.”

Warmth crept up your neck at the nervousness of the man in front of you, he was adorable—shifting from one leg to the other, playing with his fingers, as if the simple act of standing there might unravel him completely. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, cheeks flushed a soft rose, and those wide, doe-like eyes kept flicking back to the silk clinging to your body. You could practically feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat from where you stood, the way his throat worked on another swallow, the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he tried (and failed) to play it cool.

“I, uh—” Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh, “I wanted to show you something. I’ve been carrying it around all day like an idiot because I thought you might like it. Figured tonight could be, I don’t know, nice? Just us.”

Your heart gave a small tug, the evening plans you’d been dreading now sitting like a weight in your chest, “god, Hee—I wish I could,” you said softly, “my parents are in town and we have this family dinner thing tonight. It’s one of those non-negotiable things. I was literally about to walk out the door when you knocked.”

Heeseung’s shoulders dropped just a fraction, disappointment flickering across his face before he quickly tried to smooth it over. He nodded, offering you a small, understanding smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he was relieved it wasn’t a boy you’d dressed up for, “no, gosh. It’s okay, I hope you have fun.”

He paused, eyes still lingering on you like he couldn’t help it, “but—if you’re not too tired later, maybe we could still meet up? Even if it’s just for a little while. No pressure or anything, I just—I really like being around you.”

All you could manage was a nod, making him smile wider. It was always a surprise at how clearly Heeseung said whatever he meant, and it wasn’t the best thing for your poor heart, which probably matched Heeseung’s pace now. Bidding goodbye was another problem especially when Heeseung stared till you got inside the cab. The dinner was a haze, your mom staring at your zoned out state with a knowing smile. 

“Who is it?” She sighed finally, making you look up in horror. 

“Mom—no,” you warned, knowing just how interested your family was in gossiping, which didn’t exclude gossip about you by any means. 

“What? She laughed, feigning innocence while your dad hid his grin behind his water glass, “I’m just asking. You’ve been smiling at nothing and zoning out all night, now spill.”

Your cousin leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief, “yeah, girl. You look like you’re thinking about someone. Is he cute? Does he go to your uni?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, “there’s no one,” you lied, though the words felt flimsy even to you, “I’m just tired.”

Your mom reached over and squeezed your wrist gently, “mhm, sure. Whoever he is, he’s lucky if he’s got you looking like this. Just don’t forget to eat, okay? You’re glowing, but you’re also not touching your food.”

You groaned, covering your face with both hands as the table erupted into light laughter. The teasing continued with your dad throwing in a dramatic “If he hurts you, I’ll find him” that made everyone chuckle—but you managed to dodge the worst of it, cheeks burning the whole time. By the time dessert came, your family had mercifully moved on, though your mom’s knowing glances never quite stopped.

Meanwhile, Heeseung stood alone on the rooftop of the main university building, the cool night breeze slipping beneath the collar of his leather jacket and ruffling his dark hair. He’d quietly borrowed the keys from the maintenance office earlier—something he wasn’t proud of, but tonight the small rebellion felt worth it. Up here, the view was stunning. City lights stretched out below like scattered diamonds across black velvet, the crescent moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over everything. He slipped an airpod in, letting his playlist fill the silence. 

His hand drifted to the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers brushing the carefully wrapped item inside. He’d wanted to show it to you tonight, watch your face light up, maybe steal a few more stolen moments of that easy warmth you gave him so effortlessly.

Heeseung leaned against the railing, staring out at the glittering skyline while the music in his earpods played on, and he wondered if you were thinking about him too, somewhere across town amid the family dinner. He didn’t mind waiting, in fact, he was good at it when it meant so much to him. Regardless, every couple of minutes he’d glance at the door, half-convinced he was being ridiculous for waiting up here like some lovesick idiot.

As he turned back again, the faint creak of the door was heard, and he went still. You stepped onto the rooftop still wrapped in that white silk gown, the wind caught the hem immediately, making it swirl softly around your legs, and when you smiled at him—he felt it right in the center of his chest.

“Hi,” you said, voice quiet. 

Heeseung pulled the airpods out slowly, letting them dangle from his fingers, “you—you actually came,” he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them, his eyes moved over you again, helpless, “in that dress, god, Y/N.”

You walked closer, heels soft against the concrete, “told you I would. Couldn’t stop thinking about whatever you wanted to show me,” a small laugh escaped you. 

He took a half-step closer, “I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, “but I’m really glad you’re here. You look—” he trailed off, shaking his head with a soft, almost disbelieving smile, “I don’t even have the words tonight, you’re beautiful.”

It was foreign, the way you felt all mushy inside with a compliment, granted you got those all the time, but this felt new. You stopped just inches from him, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught in his dark eyes, the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks, “show me, then,” you whispered. 

Heeseung’s breath caught for the briefest moment. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a small box wrapped in simple paper, tied with a slender black ribbon. He placed it gently into your waiting hands, his fingers brushing yours with a lingering warmth that sent another quiet flutter through you.

You untied the ribbon, letting the paper fall away until the snow globe rested heavy in your palms. Inside the delicate glass sphere, a tiny couple danced beneath an invisible sky—her in a flowing white dress that mirrored the silk clinging to your body, him in a dark jacket that echoed the leather draped across Heeseung’s shoulders. Their hands were joined, bodies turned toward one another in quiet, perfect harmony. When you tilted the globe, soft white flakes swirled around them like the first gentle snowfall of winter, catching the moonlight in tiny, luminous sparks.

A rush of something overwhelming bloomed low in your stomach, as if butterflies unfurling their wings until your chest felt too full, too light. You looked up at him, eyes wide and shimmering. “Heeseung,” you breathed, “this is us. The dress, the jacket, it’s exactly like us.”

He bit his bottom lip, smiling shyly as he nodded, eyes soft with affection that he never failed to display. “Yeah,” he murmured, stepping closer until the globe rested safely between your bodies, pressed lightly against the silk over your heart, “I know it’s a little cheesy, but when I saw it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

It was yet again when he had rendered you speechless so beautifully, a small smile still graced your lips, and you couldn’t hide it, you didn’t wish to hide it, “it’s not cheesy, it’s beautiful, Hee. Thank you.” 

You held the globe for another heartbeat, letting the tiny flakes swirl and sparkle inside the glass, before you turned gently and set it on the wide concrete railing

Heeseung watched you, nervous as he reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the earpods and holding it out to you between two fingers, “dance with me?” He asked, voice hopeful, “I’ve had this song on repeat—uh, I kept imagining what it would sound like with you here.”

It was as if you were facing the real tale of the entanglement after the initial surface level attraction had worn off, which should’ve made it worse, right? But Heeseung, unlike any other potential love interest you’d met, shone brighter after revealing himself day by day. 

You took the airpod from him without a second’s hesitation and slid it in, that familiar, timeless melody of Everybody Loves Somebody filling your ear like an old friend crooning about love that finds you when you least expect it. Heeseung’s fingers brushed yours as he took your hand, threading them together with a quiet certainty that made your breath hitch. His other palm settled at your waist, warm through the silk, and he drew you in until your bodies met, like they’d been waiting all along. You let your free hand rest against his chest, right over the steady thud of his heart beneath the leather.

Heeseung let out a soft, breathy laugh, “fuck, I actually feel stupid right now,” he muttered, “I’ve never danced before.”

You laughed, leaning into his scent further, “you’re doing great, Hee.”

“Yeah?” Another dorky chuckle rumbled through his chest. He adjusted his hold on you, thumb moving in a slow, absent circle at your waist, “I don’t know, lately I keep catching myself doing shit I never thought I’d do. Like stealing keys to a rooftop, buying a snow globe because it reminded me of you. It’s weird, I feel like I’m figuring out all these parts of myself I didn’t even know were there.”

He stole keys, the thought itself made you chuckle again. You’d once read somewhere that the act of loving someone doesn’t stop at accepting them but furthers by coaxing their selfhood out of them—it felt that way for you too because who would have thought you’d be dancing with someone at a rooftop wearing a gown? 

You squeezed his hand gently, “I like that,” you said, “I like that you’re figuring it out with me.”

The proximity was perfect, yet your bodies kept on gravitating towards each other every few steps, and eventually the melody began to fade. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the position mirroring that of the snow globe miniatures. Taking another step, you leaned forward just enough to slot your lips against his, almost as if breathing each other in, lips parting at the same time before pressing into a gentle peck. Heeseung exhaled shakily against you, his hand tightening at your waist for a second like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

When you finally drew back, you gave him that smile you knew he couldn’t resist. You slipped the airpod out of your ear and dropped it into his open palm, fingers brushing his one last time. At the same time you reached over, picked up the snow globe from the railing, and tucked it carefully against your chest.

“Night, baby,” you whispered as you turned toward the door.

Heeseung just stood there, completely still, breathing a little harder than before. His eyes were wide and utterly lovestruck as he watched you walk away. The rooftop door clicked shut behind you, but he didn’t move for a long time—just stayed right where he was under the moonlight, that dazed, helpless smile slowly taking over his face.

You were panting as Heeseung pressed his lips on the base of your spine, sending a shiver up your back. He hadn’t been patient pulling you in his bed, turning you over to unzip your dress. He groaned with each kiss as if he was pleasuring himself instead of you while savouring every inch of skin exposed. 

Heeseung pressed his forehead against the middle of your back for a second, breathing hard, “you’re trembling,” he whispered against you, “is my mouth really making you feel that good?” He kissed between your shoulder blades, then higher, until his lips brushed the nape of your neck, “tell me, baby. Tell me how wet you are right now just from this.”

“So wet,” you gasped, pushing your hips back against him, “Hee—please.”

He let out a broken groan and shoved your panties to the side with impatient fingers, not even bothering to pull them off. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance, hot and heavy, before he sank into you in one long, relentless thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound guttural as he bottomed out, stretching you wide, “you’re soaking my cock, baby. So fucking tight and wet for me.” He pulled back slowly, then drove in again, harder, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room, “listen to that. Hear how greedy your pussy is for me?”

You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he set a deep, punishing rhythm, each stroke dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you.

“Heeseung—oh god, yes—” your voice broke on a moan, tears of overwhelming pleasure already stinging your eyes, “harder—please, I need it harder.”

Heeseung cursed under his breath and fucked you deeper, hips snapping forward with filthy precision, “like this?” He panted, voice hoarse “you want me to ruin this pretty little pussy? Tell me how good it feels, baby. I want to hear you fall apart.”

“It feels so good,” you sobbed, pushing back to meet every thrust, “you’re so deep—fuck, Hee, I can’t—”

The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, white-hot and devastating, until it finally snapped.

“I love you—” the words tore out of you, raw and desperate, “Heeseung, I love you—”

He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt inside you, body going completely rigid.

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, shocked and trembling.

You whimpered, hips twitching helplessly around his cock, the confession spilling out again in a blurry, broken rush, “I love you, I love you so much—”

Heeseung pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. In one swift motion he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with wide, dark eyes and a chest that heaved like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice hoarse and shaking as he stared down at you, one hand cupping your jaw, “look at me and say it again, baby. Please.”

Your eyes were glassy, lips parted on a shaky breath, but the words seemed to have blurred, your face disappearing right in front of his eyes as you said, “I love—” 

He woke up with a sharp, ragged gasp, bolting upright in his own bed, heart slamming violently against his ribs. The room was dark and silent except for his own frantic breathing. Sweat slicked his skin, and when he looked down, the front of his sweatpants was soaked with a warm, sticky mess.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, dragging a trembling hand down his face, cheeks burning with heat.

It was hard for him to contain himself when this is all he could dream of the past six days, feeling it deep despite it being a dream. Wet dream was fine really, but the confession that echoed? Yeah, that definitely made Heeseung feel eccentric because he needed to hear that for real despite the terms of the relationship between you both. It was bound to bloom into something more.

You two had fallen into a rhythm that didn’t need a label really. He showed up outside your lectures with your stupidly specific drink (matcha), the one with the exact ratio you liked, because he’d paid attention the one time you made a face at the wrong version. You’d started leaving your oversized hoodie at his place just so you could steal his instead and he could wear yours, the sleeves swallowing your hands while you lounged on his bed scrolling through your phone. He noticed how you always tugged at your bottom lip when you were thinking too hard, how you stole the last sip of his drink without asking, how your shoulders relaxed the second you kicked your shoes off after a long day. You noticed the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose when he was tired but too stubborn to admit it, the soft little hum he made when something tasted exactly right, the way his eyes lingered on you a beat longer than necessary whenever you laughed at something dumb he said.

You weren’t calling it dating, you weren’t calling it anything. But you also weren’t fighting it. You’d never been the type to deny yourself something that made you feel good, and Heeseung made you feel good in a way that snuck up on you. So you let yourself have it without the complications of overthinking. 

Later that morning, Heeseung walked across campus still half-dazed from the dream, that stupid, lingering smile refusing to leave his face. The memory of your voice saying those three words kept looping in his head, well, until a voice didn’t wish to hear ruined his train of thoughts. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t the thief.”

Heeseung slowed to a stop and turned. Jaemin stood there with his arms crossed, wearing the same smug, pissed-off expression he used to think was charming.

Heeseung let out a dry, humorless scoff, “thief? That’s fucking hilarious coming from the guy who was literally balls-deep in my ex while we were still together.”

Jaemin stepped closer, eyes narrowing, “whatever helps you sleep at night. You really think you’re gonna keep her interested?” His voice dripped with condescension, “Y/N doesn’t do soft boys. All that cute shit you do, y’know? All that bringing her drinks, playing with her hair, looking at her like she’s the only person in the room? She’ll get bored so soon. She needs someone who can actually keep up with her, not some pathetic, whipped little romantic who gets all starry-eyed at the sight of her.”

Heeseung forced out a dry laugh, “yeah sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Jaemin stepped even closer, that ugly little smirk twisting his mouth, “you’re playing house while she’s used to getting fucked properly, I’m sure you’re not offering much to at all, you’re nothing but a rebound to her,” he scoffed once, and walked away. 

But the damage was done, because yes, Heeseung was soft, almost a whipped little romantic who let you take the lead when things got heated, how you pinned his wrists down or told him exactly how you wanted him, and how much he fucking loved giving in to you. The dream from this morning flashed behind his eyes again, your voice breaking on those three words while he was the one completely undone above you. Now it all felt suddenly pathetic, like something Jaemin could point at and laugh at.

Jealousy, envy, insecurity, these were the things he didn’t wish to feel, and gladly so, he never felt that with you, so why was an outsider here to remind him of his so called weaknesses? It felt like a spiral how he skipped the next lecture and pondered on Jaemin’s words. Did you actually not enjoy your time with him? Was he enough? Did you want a more intense relationship? Was it just a rebound?

He couldn’t find the answers to any of those questions, and managed to ignore every single text and call that came his way, letting himself cool down on the rooftop yet again. 

What he essentially forgot was how communication wasn’t a part of the relationship but the very pillar that ran practically any relationship on this earth, this being the very first instance of him not being able to express himself—something he did so freely around you. 

And so, the day passed without him replying to you. 

You felt the absence like a missing pulse. 

“You look crazy checking your phone every two minutes,” Sunoo pointed out, and you huffed, grabbing your phone again to stare at the unread texts you’d sent him through the day. 

The screen glowed mockingly in the low light of your dorm room, the blue bubble of your last message still floating unanswered beneath the others, heeseung? talk to me. you okay? i’m coming over if you don’t answer. Just silence that didn’t sit right with you. 

Sunoo flopped dramatically across the foot of your bed, legs kicking up behind him, while Winter perched on the windowsill, she watched you with that knowing tilt of her head, the one that always preceded a lecture of affection. 

“Babe,” she said, “he’s been ghosting the group chat too, something’s off. Like, capital-O off.”

You set the phone face-down on the blanket, but your fingers still twitched toward it. Sunoo nudged your ankle with his socked foot. 

“Go, seriously, and if he’s being a dramatic little shit, tell him Sunoo said to grow a pair and answer his damn phone.” His grin was bright, “you’re so in love it’s pathetic.”

Your lip only twitched, and you didn’t admit nor deny it. It was too early to even overthink what happened, was he drowning himself in self destruction while embracing pain for absolutely no reason? Regardless you frowned with disdain, pushing yourself up to actually do something about the situation, choosing to wear his hoodie he gave you a few days earlier. 

You didn’t bother fixing your hair or changing out of the soft shorts you’d been rotting in all evening. This wasn’t about looking put-together, it was about the fact that Heeseung had never once left a message on read without answering, in fact, he was the one who usually texted first, shared his problems, and discussed any and everything this world has to offer. Whatever had him locked down like this, it had teeth, and you were done waiting for him to chew through it alone.

By the time you reached there, a feeling of nervousness washed over you. Jake pulled the door open almost immediately, like he’d been hovering behind it. His eyes were wide, hair sticking up in about six different directions, and he looked so relieved to see you that it almost hurt.

“Jesus Christ, you’re here,” he sighed, stepping aside so you could slip in, “he got back from class and just shut down. Told me to fuck off when I asked if he wanted pasta. Jay tried the concerned roommate bit and got the door slammed in his face. This isn’t—he doesn’t do this, y’know?”

You nodded, throat tight, “I know.”

Jake hesitated, then added almost sheepishly, “if he’s being a dick, tell him I said to stop being a dramatic prick or i’ll take you away, or whatever.”

You gave him a chuckle and headed straight for the bedroom door, hoping that it wouldn’t be locked. It wasn’t, thankfully so, and you pushed the door open before you could talk yourself out of it. Heeseung sat on the edge of the bed in those black sweats that hung too low on his hips, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. The silver chain sat against his collarbone, rising and falling with these tight little breaths. He looked exhausted, hollowed out even.

He heard the door and his head snapped up.

For a second his eyes went wide, like he couldn’t believe it was really you standing there. The whiplash of emotions was too much, especially when you were clad in his hoodie with sadness gracing your pretty face that he really always wished to see happy. He stood up so fast the bed creaked, crossed the room in two strides, and pulled you against him like he’d been waiting to do exactly that all day.

His hands were rough as he grabbed your nape the second the door closed shut behind you, breathing hard as your lips parted to ask a question, but he only closed his eyes, slid his hand up to your head as he pushed you against the door, pushing his lips against yours in a messy claim. 

He can be rough, he can be the one to give you pleasure, of course he can. His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it, tongue sliding in deep. You tasted the faint cherry from whatever he’d been drinking, felt the way his chest heaved against yours like he’d been running.

“Missed you,” he mumbled right into your mouth, the words half-bitten off by another rough kiss, “fuck, I missed you so bad today.”

“Heeseung—wait, what the hell happened—” you tried, but he swallowed the question with his mouth, sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to sting before dragging his teeth down the side of your neck. His free hand shoved under the hem of the hoodie, palm sprawled over the expanse of your waist, fingers digging in like he needed to feel skin right now

“Shh,” he breathed against your throat, voice wrecked, “don’t talk. Just—let me.” He sucked a mark right below your ear, like he was stamping proof that you were here, that you were his. His hips pressed forward, pinning you tighter to the door, and you could feel how hard he already was through his sweats.

The force of him made your breath hitch, your back flush against the cool wood while every inch of him burned insistent. He was never like this, not with you. Heeseung had always been careful, as if afraid that wrong move would make you slip away. But tonight something had snapped in him, and the way his fingers trembled just slightly against your skin told you he knew it too. He was trying to prove a point—to himself, to the ghost of Jaemin’s voice still echoing in his head—that he could be the rough, ravenous version he thought you wanted.

He spun you around so fast your palms slapped against the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. The cool glass kissed your bare chest, making your nipples tighten instantly. Heeseung’s chest pressed flush to your back, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw, forcing your head up so you had no choice but to look at your own reflection—parted lips, eyes already glassy. 

“Look at yourself,” he rasped, “look how fucking pretty you are when you’re like this for me.”

His other hand snaked down your stomach, fingers dipping between your thighs without warning. Two thick digits pushed inside you in one smooth glide, curling instantly against that spot that made your knees buckle. You gasped, forehead dropping forward until it rested on the mirror, but Heeseung’s grip on your jaw tightened, yanking you back up.

“Eyes open, baby. Watch, yeah?” 

It most certainly was hot to see him take control, but you couldn’t understand the sudden switch, the implications, your mind was too foggy with the way you’d missed him through the day. Heeseung was too in his head, as if on some mission to make you feel good—which he always achieved, yet was not satisfied. 

He pumped his fingers slow and deep, twisting them on every drag out so you felt every ridge, every knuckle. The wet, slick sounds of your pussy taking his fingers echoed obscenely in the quiet dorm room. In the mirror you watched it all: the way your lips parted on a shaky moan, the flush crawling down your neck to your chest, the way your tits pressed and flattened against the cool glass with every rock of your hips. Heeseung’s reflection behind you was devastating—dark hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched tight, that chain around his neck swaying every time he thrust his fingers harder.

“God, you’re so deep already,” you whimpered, hips rocking back to meet his hand, “keep going like that, yeah, just like that, Hee.”

Heeseung groaned low, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second before he forced himself to look up again, as if in pain, “that’s it. Fuck, listen to how messy you sound. You’re dripping down my wrist, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering, but he tapped your jaw again.

“Don’t close your eyes. Want you to see how pretty you look when I finger fuck you like this.”

“Bossy tonight,” you teased breathlessly, even as your thighs started trembling, “I like it, but you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep rubbing my clit like that.”

“Good,” he rasped, thumb circling faster, fingers curling relentlessly, “cum for me. Right now. Let me see it.”

You moaned his name loud, walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers as you came, slick coating his hand. Heeseung kept working you through it, slower but deep, murmuring against your neck, “that’s my girl—fuck, you’re so pretty when you cum. Look at you shaking for me.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, then brought them to your lips.

“Taste yourself, baby, hm? C’mon, open up.”

You sucked them clean, eyes never leaving his in the reflection, and he cursed under his breath the second your tongue swirled around his fingers. 

“Fuck—you’re gonna kill me.”

Before you could catch your breath he dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping your hips and yanking you back so your ass arched toward his face.

“Keep watching the mirror,” he said, voice hoarse with need, “I want you to see me eat this pussy like I’ve been starving for it.”

Then his mouth was on you, as filthy as he could manage. His tongue dragged slow and broad from your clit all the way up, and you moaned loud, hands sliding down the glass.

“Oh my god, Hee—”

“Mhm, fuck, you taste even better after you come,” he groaned against you, the vibration making your legs weak, “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. Let me get deeper.”

You did, pushing back against his face. His tongue fucked into you while his nose nudged your clit, then he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth hard.

“Yes—right there, don’t stop,” you panted, “your tongue feels so fucking good, baby, keep sucking like that.”

Heeseung moaned into your pussy, one hand reaching around to rub your clit while the other spread you open wider, “tell me how much you like it,” he mumbled between licks, voice desperate, “tell me you love my mouth on you.”

“I love it—fuck, I love your mouth, Hee. You’re so good at this—shit, I’m gonna cum again if you keep going like that.”

He sucked harder, tongue flicking fast, fingers joining to curl inside you, “then let go again, right on my tongue. I want to feel you fall apart while you watch yourself in the mirror.”

Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth, almost as if you were chanting his name like a mantra, thighs shaking violently as you came on his tongue, and Heeseung licked you through every pulse, slow and greedy, humming happily like he couldn’t get enough.

You were still trembling when he finally pulled away, breathing hard against the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror for a second, looking all desperate, almost frantic before he stood up and turned you around. His hands were shaking as they gripped your waist.

“Come here,” he said, voice rough, like the words were being dragged out of him. He kissed you immediately, with the need to taste the way you’d just fallen apart for him, “bed. I need you on the bed right now.”

You nodded, legs still unsteady, and he didn’t wait. He lifted you, your back hitting the mattress a second later. He climbed over you fast, knees bracketing your hips, but instead of diving right in he paused, hovering above you, chest heaving. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and for a split second you saw the soft Heeseung underneath all that intensity—the one who always checked on you, the one who was terrified of messing this up.

“You really want this?” He asked, voice cracking a little even though he was trying to sound sure. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he couldn’t stop himself, “all the way, me inside you. Tell me you want it, baby, please.”

“I want it,” you whispered, reaching up to pull him closer by his chain, “I want you, Hee. Stop holding back.”

He let out a shaky breath and nodded, like he was steeling himself. He shoved the rest of his clothes off as you watched the pretty boy in front of you. It was clear how he wanted to prove a point, and you were gonna let him, granted he wasn’t in the mood to talk, his faint muscles flexing was distracting you as well, but yeah, you were letting him take control. 

He gripped your thighs and spread you open wider, breathing hard as he tried not to stare to the point he starts drooling because, lord, you looked absolutely stunning all spread out on his bed, looking up at him with need, bottom lip bitten. He lined up, the blunt head of his cock pressing right against your entrance, and for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, eyes flicking up to yours like he was still fighting whatever storm was in his head.

“Tell me again,” he said, “tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathed, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongues sliding deep right away, “I want you inside me, Hee. Stop thinking and just take me.”

He groaned into your mouth and pushed forward.

The first inch stretched you open, slow and thick. You both gasped against each other’s lips.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, hips trembling as he held still, “just the tip and you’re already gripping me like that. You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nails dragging lightly down his back, “keep going, I can take more.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, almost desperate, and rolled his hips forward on the second thrust as another inch sank in. The burn was sharp but so fucking good your back arched.

“Shit—baby,” he groaned, voice cracking. He sucked a hard mark right under your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as he pushed in a third time, slower, letting you adjust, “you feel—gosh, you feel unreal, i’m trying not to lose it already.”

Your nails dug in harder, scratching down his shoulder blades as he gave one more careful thrust and finally bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The full stretch made you moan loud into his mouth, legs tightening around his waist.

Heeseung stilled completely, breathing ragged against your neck, trying not to whimper, “talk to me. Does it hurt? Tell me the truth.”

“A little,” you whispered, “but I love it. You feel so deep already. Move, baby, I need you to move.”

He started with slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding against you on every stroke like he was still trying to stay in control. But you could feel the tension building in his body, the way his fingers dug into your thighs a little harder each time.

“Yeah? Like this?” He asked, voice rougher now as he snapped his hips forward a little sharper, “you want me to fuck you harder?”

“Harder,” you moaned, nails raking down his back again, leaving red lines, “don’t be gentle tonight. I want all of it.”

He dropped his head to your neck and bit down hard, sucking yet another dark mark into your skin as his hips suddenly slammed forward. The thrusts turned brutal, the bed creaking loudly under you. His chain slapped against your chest with every snap of his hips. He was fucking you like he’d been holding back for months—desperate, almost punishing strokes that knocked the breath out of you.

“Fuck—fuck, baby,” he groaned against your throat, voice completely wrecked, “you’re taking me so fucking good. This pussy is mine tonight. Mine.”

You cried out and he kissed you again, tongues sliding messily while he pounded into you without any rhythm left. His hips stuttered, slamming harder, faster, completely mindless now, like every doubt in his head was being fucked out with every brutal thrust.

“Shit—I can’t—can’t slow down,” he panted, “you feel too good, gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He was gone—eyes hazy, sweat dripping down his chest, hips snapping wildly as he lost himself inside you, chasing that raw, desperate need to prove he could be everything he thought you wanted. His chain bounced wildly against your chest, his fingers digging bruises into your thigh like he needed something to hold onto. 

You were right there with him, body tightening, moans spilling out against his mouth, when the intensity tipped over into something too much, too fast. Your hand shot back, fingers digging into his hip.

“Heeseung—stop. Stop for a second.”

He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt, every muscle locking up at once. His breath hitched hard against your neck. For a long second the room was just the sound of both of you breathing, ragged and uneven. You could feel the panic crashing over him. 

“Fuck—did I hurt you?” His voice cracked, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes already glassy with tears that spilled over when he blinked, “shit, I’m so sorry—I got too rough, I didn’t mean to, I was trying so hard not to be soft and I just—fuck, I thought if I fucked you harder you’d want me, you’d stay, I—”

His lip trembled. Another tear slid down his cheek and landed warm on your skin. He looked completely shattered, still deep inside you, like the idea that he might have hurt you was breaking him apart right there.

You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing the tears from under his eyes, “baby, shh. You didn’t hurt me,” you whispered, voice soft, full of warmth, “not even a little. I promise. You feel so good, Hee. C’mon breathe with me, okay?”

He stared at you, eyes wide and wet, lips pressed tight together like he was trying not to fall apart completely. He gave the smallest shake of his head, refusing to speak at first.

You leaned up and kissed him, just a gentle press of your lips until he softened into it, a shaky little exhale leaving him. When you pulled back you kept your forehead against his, thumbs still stroking his cheeks.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I can feel it, baby. Something’s been eating at you. Please talk to me.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut for a second as another tear slipped free. His voice came out small, cracked, almost ashamed.

“Jaemin cornered me after class,” he whispered, “uh—he said I’m too soft, fucking whipped. That I’m just a pathetic rebound and you’d get bored of me in a week because someone like me could never keep a girl like you. Said you need someone who can actually fuck you right, not some gentle loser,” his breath hitched, “I just—I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I wanted to prove I could be what you need, I know this isn’t what you wanted, our whole FWB thing.”

You stayed right there, forehead pressed to his, thumbs still gently wiping his tears as you looked at him with nothing but softness in your eyes, heart hurting at how the guy who makes you the happiest was reduced to some loser by your pathetic excuse of an ex. 

“I like you exactly how you are,” you let out, heat creeping up your neck, the position only making you feel more with his cock still buried deep in you. 

“Y—you like me?” He gasped as you licked his tear away, “really?”

“I do, Hee. I forgot about the whole no strings arrangement long back, I found myself wanting to spend more time with you, and who am I to deprive myself of happiness?” You chuckled, “you can’t force your feelings to go away, or change yourself, y’know? Fuck Jaemin, he doesn’t know shit, he could never make me cum and he definitely could never make me feel the way you do.”

Heeseung let out a shaky, broken exhale, his forehead still resting against yours as fresh tears welled up, “I thought—I thought I was ruining everything. I was so scared you’d realize I’m just the rebound, and you’d leave. I didn’t want to lose you, so I tried to be someone else tonight. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, Hee, not even close. You could never ruin this. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I don’t mind you being rough or soft, yeah?”

He swallowed hard, “I don’t want to be rough, I never really did. I just, I thought that’s what you needed from me. But I want to be soft with you, can I—can I do that? Please?”

You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped you, the sound made his lips twitch, and then he was smiling—small, shy, and so genuinely relieved it made your heart squeeze. He immediately hid his face in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, his breath warm against your skin as he let out a quiet, shy laugh of his own.

“Stop laughing at me,” he mumbled into your neck, but you could hear the smile in his voice, the way his shoulders relaxed.

“I’m not laughing at you,” you whispered, still chuckling as you threaded your fingers through his hair, “I’m laughing because you’re adorable, and I like you like this. Exactly like this.”

Heeseung lifted his head just enough to look at you again, eyes still glassy but now shining with something brighter as he managed another kiss, pouring every unsaid feeling into it. When he pulled back, his voice was soft. 

“I love you,” he breathed out, “I’m so in love with you. I don’t want no-strings, I want everything. Mornings where I wake up and you’re stealing my hoodie. Nights where we fall asleep tangled up like this, and I want all of it with you.”

You smiled against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst, “I’m falling in love with you too, Hee, I want all of that with you too.”

He whined, kissing you all clumsy, rolling his hips in long, loving strokes that made you feel every inch of him. The pace was unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second.

“Feel that?” He whispered, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you, “I love being inside you like this. I love feeling you around me—so warm, so perfect.”

You moaned softly, legs wrapping tighter around him as you rocked up to meet his slow thrusts, “you feel so good, baby.”

Heeseung smiled again with a giggle, hiding his face in your neck for a moment before kissing along your throat, “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, “the way you look when I’m inside you, the little sounds you make, I could stay like this for hours. Just loving you, just making you feel good.”

His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning it gently above your head while the other slid down to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, tender circles. Every thrust was accompanied by quiet words—I love you, you feel incredible, never letting you go, whispered against your skin like prayers.

You squeezed his hand, “I love how you make me feel safe, don’t ever change, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise, i just want to make you feel loved. Every single day.”

The room filled with nothing but the soft creak of the bed, your quiet moans, and his gentle praises. He kept the pace slow and deep, grinding against you on every thrust so your clit rubbed perfectly against him. His lips never left your skin—kissing your neck, your jaw, your mouth, your collarbone like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion as he rolled his hips again, “I’m so lucky you’re mine. So fucking lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby. Now keep loving me just like this, I never want this to end.”

Heeseung smiled against your mouth, eyes shining with pure adoration, and did exactly that—loving you slow, deep, and full of so much tenderness it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Just the two of you, and the moonlight in the room.