#atiny

Red was a colour you’d always been fixated on for multiple reasons. It’s distinctive, quite possibly the most conspicuous of its kind given all the connotations and implications attached to its name. It was very well-revered. A favourite of many.

Today, though, red was nothing more than the chipped polish on your fingernails as they rapped a restless rhythm against the black glass of your desk. It was sleek, cold, and reflective enough to catch the glint of irritation in your eyes. Red was the soles of your Louboutin, itching to fly across the table and meet a certain someone’s annoyingly composed face.

"Any time now, Mr. Park," you said, clearing your throat with purposeful sharpness. Your nails tapped louder, more deliberately. “It’s all in writing, Seonghwa. What exactly is there to think about?”

This contract was supposed to be signed twenty minutes ago. Your patience was fraying. Seonghwa was skating on thin ice by the second. All you wanted was to be done. The longer he stalled, the hotter your blood ran. The red in your vision sharpened.

Seonghwa, the smug bastard, didn’t even flinch. He met your glare through lashes too long to be fair, a fleeting smirk tugging at his lips as he tapped the contract once. “You’re forgetting, I’m the one getting the short end of the stick here,” he said with infuriating calm, waving a hand. 

“Take it up to Yeosang,” you seethed, the smile on your face not vanishing even though your tone was nothing but. “He’s the one who drafted it. I’m only here to make sure you sign it. I’ve no desire to be part of this project you have with him and my dad. Don’t make this hard for me.”

“Or,” Seonghwa drawled, setting the contract aside with a provoking slide of his fingertips, his eyes shining with mischief and intent as he leaned forward. You narrowed your eyes, already not liking what he was about to say before he opened his mouth. “You just want to spend the whole day with Mr. Dreamboat over there.”

Your breath hitched and his smirk deepens as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, not even bothering to look behind him like he already knew what - or, who - was there all along. You gritted your teeth. Bastard.

“Ah, what was his name again?” Seonghwa pretended to think, tapping his chin mockingly. “Your hunk of a bodyguard who could literally kill a man with his eyes alone.”

“You could ask him, yourself,” you shrugged, the gesture weaker than you’d intended it, your voice coming out as a tremble rather than a statement. “He does speak. Just like you and me. I reckon you’d find that San’s quite the intellectual once you give him your time.”

San. Granted, he was outside your office but you didn’t even have to look at him, you just knew. You could picture him standing so still you doubted he breathed, his arms crossed, jaw sharp, eyes always watching like he had been carved from the very shadows he stood in.

But you couldn’t help it. You lifted your head and the moment you did, your eyes met with his for the briefest of seconds before you shifted your attention back to Seonghwa. His stare alone was enough to shake the carefully built wall of composure you'd spent years perfecting. 

Seonghwa chuckled, low and amused, his head shaking slowly back and forth, the playfulness in his eyes dissolving entirely. He tapped a finger to his temple. “He’s on your mind. Not me, not the contract. Him.”

He finally signs the contract he’s been toying with like a cat who found a mouse to play with, before standing up. You stayed seated, not trusting your legs to not give out if you tried to walk Seonghwa out. He was about to turn, but he stopped himself midway. A slow, almost demented grin spreads through his lips when stared back at you. Your lips twitch to a frown, confusion settling on your face when Seonghwa walks back towards you with calculated steps. “W-What?” You stuttered when he leaned down abnormally close to your face.

Seonghwa tilted his head, his hand touching the collar of your blouse. “I mean, your tits are basically out,” he pointed out with a smirk. “Trying to seduce him?”

“You hound,” you hissed, swatting his hand away. “Just wait until I get my hands on you, Park Seo—“

He rolled his eyes before finally walking away with his devious giggles along the way. “Whatever you say. Toodles, Y/N.”

You sighed exasperatedly, the sound of it louder than it should have been as it reverberated around the empty conference room. Frustration crawls up your skin, the short meeting between you and Seonghwa shouldn’t have ended like this.

Now you had to fix your purposefully exposed chest, but how were you going to do that when he was now entering the room to stand directly in front of you? Your head pounded, cheeks blushed as his uncaring eyes bore onto yours. A part of you wanted to leave yourself exposed just so you could see if he’d notice. If he’d finally say something and react to you.

And he did. Of course he did. But not in the way you’d always wanted him to see you. His eyes, sharp and all-seeing, never once strayed from your face or past your neck to look at what you were offering him. 

“You know,” you drawled out, voice smooth and velvety, straightening your spine and purposefully pushing your breasts out in hopes to make him snap his composure.  “You might as well say something if you’re going to stare at me.”

A long pause. For a second, you thought he might not respond. That he’d turn away and ignore you like he always did whenever you started to talk like this. His voice, when it came, was low and measured. “I am required to look at you and be at your disposal at all times for your protection,” was all he said. “My apologies if my presence has made you uncomfortable.”

You faltered, the small smile on your face dropping immediately. Your posture breaks slightly, your back wanting to slouch, and the only reason why it didn’t was because you knew he did not disappoint. I’ll get you one day, Choi San. Just wait and see.

It was hard to look at him sometimes. Everyday was a brand new rejection, and yet you kept coming back, hoping this would be the moment you’d finally see something in his eyes that would tell you that perhaps, there was something in there, after all. It was hard to look at him sometimes because his nonchalance towards your seduction always, always pissed you off. This man was a rock and you hated it.

You stared at him as he started to take a tentative step towards you, shrugging his coat off without seeming to even think about it. “I reckon it’s cold outside,” he murmured, putting it over your shoulders. “Best if you cover up. Shall I reprimand Mr. Park for his audacity? Or, perhaps,  tell Mr. Kang what he had done, instead?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you pulled his coat closer to your body, hoping that his scent would somehow embed itself onto your skin. “Is that all, San?”

San’s eyes lingered on the carefully undone disarray that Seonghwa left you in. Shame washes over you in waves, and for a moment, you wished for them to whisk you away to let the ocean take you as you buttoned your blouse back. Tsk. Years ago shame was scared of you. You had no idea why now, why him. 

You couldn’t look at San, not fully. His gaze was so steady, so unfaltering in its scrutiny that you wanted to hide from it. And then, finally, he looked away. “That’s all,” he said, his voice softer now, the ghost of something gentler there before it vanished entirely. “Let’s go home, my lady. I’ll drive.”

He was already turning before you could say anything else. You hated how your pulse still fluttered for him. He was someone who never took the bait when everybody kneeled before you.

Oh, the irony. If there was anyone I would kneel for, it would’ve been no one but you.

Unfortunately, you had to return to the company the next day. No matter, it would give you more excuses to see San, especially given that you didn’t return his coat back to him on purpose. You stared at it the entire night while it was draped over your vanity chair, thinking of all the ways you could try to get under his skin and possibly get him to react to anything that you did. You’ve never lost, and you won’t start now.

There you were, walking towards the elevator with the proudest smirk on your face and with purpose on your strides. Seeing your bodyguard would be the highlight of your day. Of course, he was already there, leaning in the far corner, arms folded, that bulletproof calm pressed into every inch of his posture.

Your hand tightened on San’s coat that was draped over you. The fabric felt soft, familiar, but also heavy like it had absorbed all the unspoken words, all the little gestures that had once meant something but had faded into the space between you. His eyes flicked to the coat. Then back to the elevator buttons.

Nothing else. No reaction. Just a single glance, like you’d worn a sock he vaguely recognized. Your eyes twitched. “Morning, San,” you cooed, pressing the close button. “Hope you slept well last night. I sure did with your coat keeping me warm.”

Silence. The elevator hums and floors pass, but nothing. Still, you weren’t giving up. “It could have been you, you know?” You said sweetly. “But alas, this coat would do. It smells vaguely of you with a tinge of blissful ignorance.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. San stared at you blankly. Amused, almost. “I would say it’s accurately labeled, my lady.”

You grinned. God, he was good. You loved it when someone played the game you spoke of very well. You loved it when the opponent was stone-walled. You will love it when you’ve finally broken down San’s walls. “Hmm,” you purred. “I could’ve sworn I saw something in your eyes when you wrapped me in it.”

“Must’ve been a mistake” he said, voice flat. “Mr. Park did a splendid job distracting you.”

“Ah, so you noticed.”

“I’m paid to observe hazards,” he deadpanned. “You qualify.”

The elevator chimed  and the doors opened, much to your dismay. You could play this game with San forever and be content with it. He stepped out first, scanning the hallway like usual, all business and bullet-readiness. You followed, swishing his coat just enough to make sure he saw. To your regret, he looked and walked away, his stupidly attractive face not giving away any sort of expression to see if he was affected by your blatant flirting. You clicked your tongue when you saw none.

You were used to it though. He barely looked at you unless it was part of his job. He didn’t flirt, didn’t laugh at your sarcastic remarks, didn’t give you that satisfied buzz of control when you walked into a room. He resisted you. That alone made him worth chasing.

The meeting was a bore. Granted, you were only a stand in since your father wasn’t available, but it was what you’d describe as a colossal train wreck. It was a blessing in disguise, this could be a good bargaining chip to shove up your father’s face as to why you would refuse to stand in his place in the future if he’s not able to.

The entire time, however, all you could think about was San. You fiddled with his coat again, not even bothering to pay attention to the poor bloke who was giving the most disorderly presentation known to mankind, the familiar fabric providing you solid ground to keep yourself leveled whether you admitted it or not.

What is it that you have to do to get to him? What are you missing? A couple of months ago, you would have thought that you were the issue, but seeing as San’s eyes never flicked towards you or showed no signs of intrigue, you can certainly say with perfect conviction that it was definitely not you.

“My lady. There’s that bakery you’ve been fancying lately,” you heard San’s soft voice that you’ve come to find soothing in times where you longed to hear it the most the moment you got out of the meeting room, smiling tightly and bowing lightly at the people who left as well. “Would you like to go before we stop by your parents’ house?”

San protectively assumes position by your left, walking beside you towards the parking lot. A small smirk paints your lips. “Depends. Would you happen to be on the menu?” You teased as he opened the car door for you to enter.

He ignored you as he opened the other side of the door and sat beside you at the back seat, the lull of the radio on minimal volume filling in the distance between the both of you that was miles apart even though he was within arm’s reach from you. You rolled your eyes.

Just before you’d started to wonder if you went a little too far with that remark, San was already looking at you with those deep eyes that held an unsettling clarity in their gaze. They were unwavering, studying you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m afraid not,” he said slowly. “I recall bakeries traditionally offering a selection of delicacies that geared towards pastries and the likes.”

Of course.

Your lips twitched against your will, not being able to stop them from lifting up the corners from his outward rejection towards your very straightforward attempts. His directness used to annoy you because you never got the responses you wanted, but now, they just amused you to no end. “Ah, maybe next time, then. Thank you for asking,” you chuckled. “Have I…ever told you how nice your eyes were, San?”

There was a part of you that wanted to bite your tongue or take back what you’d said, but for all the rubbish that you’ve spit out, you’ve never been more honest than you were now. It was true, San’s eyes shimmered like pools of deep water, drawing you in the way the night sky entices with the promise of endless mystery.

And right now, there was a sharpness in them, as if he was weighing you, calculating the sincerity behind your words, or perhaps, your lack of them. “No, my lady,” San replied nonchalantly. “I don’t think you have.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Have you always been sparse with your words?”

He blinked. “Only towards things that aren’t of learning value.”

You tilted your head, challenging his resolve. “What if I fire you? Say, for insubordination? Some other rich bastard would’ve already done so.”

You would never do that, though you wouldn’t tell him. You had a big ego, but it wasn’t that big. That seemed to render San into silence. You wanted to smirk. Finally. But, of course, San wasn’t the most average man out there.

“Not once have I thought of you to fire someone unjustly,” San replied slowly, his formal tone almost making your eyes roll. “But if you must, I would accept it with grace.”

Your jaw ticked. You wanted to scream into the void. Hell, you had better chances of getting answers from the void rather than your fucking bodyguard at this point. You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You give me a headache,” you said.

“Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell, my lady?”

You wanted to scoff. Leave it to San to basically tell you that you were basically speaking in tongues. You couldn’t even be mad - you were just impressed at this point. He was the master of avoiding every interaction with you.

“I’m fine,” you replied curtly, leaving the conversation at that. You turned your head back to the windows, opting to stare at the beauty of the passing city that was blurring into your peripherals the more the car flew by. The sides of your face burned with each ticking second that San spent boring holes onto them, but you ignored him this time.

If you closed your eyes, you could still see the image of San the very first time you saw him a couple of months ago. It had burned itself behind your eyelids, the moment - the feeling - seared onto your brain for years and years to come. 

You never wanted a bodyguard. Not once in your life had you thought that you had the need for a glorified babysitter who would be constantly watching your every move, monitoring your every breath and sigh, and just overall someone who you’d be required to adjust to and fit into your daily routine while pretending that their presence wasn’t bothering you.

“You are the heir to my company, Y/N. The successor of all the sacrifices I’ve made to finally reach the upper echelon of the business world,” your father brought up one day when he randomly called you into his office. “And I need you protected at all times. Our rivals are getting bolder.”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth back then, clenching your fists as hard as you could as if it bottled all the frustrations you’ve been harbouring. “We talked about this before. I am not interested in the company. I’m not interested now nor would I be in the near future, if ever. That means I don’t want a walking, talking bouncer on me all damn day.”

The problem was that you were not one bit interested in being tied down to that type of life. You didn’t want to dedicate the majority of your life doing something you can never see yourself enjoying no matter how good you were.

“Make no mistake, this isn’t up for discussion,” your father crossed his arms. Supposedly that’s where you got your defiant personality. “This isn’t a request, Y/N. It’s an order. You will get a bodyguard and that’s final.”

You combed your hair in vexation, a laugh of disbelief bubbling up your lungs. “Fine,” you sneered, not bothering to hide your ire. “What’s in it for me? Surely, you don’t expect me to agree that easily?”

Your father’s smirk back then should’ve told you everything you needed to know. “Here, take it,” he handed you a thick stack of paperwork. “You have full liberty of choosing your bodyguard since you’re the one they’ll be tailing around. That also means you have full discretion of his schedule, his location, your dynamic, down to whoever it is,” he said, staring pointedly at the papers you now hold. “Take your pick—”

“Here,” you said, ripping one from the middle of the stack. You didn’t even bother to check who it was. Without giving it a second thought, you shoved the paperwork back into his hands. “Take it from here. I don’t need to waste time on this.”

It wasn’t that you were being rude. You just didn’t see the point. Would it really matter who you picked? Would it change anything? Your father let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by your defiance. “Just remember, you’re not getting out of this.”

You shot him one last glare before turning back to leave his office. “We'll see about that.”

And now, here you were, still haunted by the memory of seeing San for the very first time. It’s been three months, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling you had that warm Sunday morning, the warmest it’s been all summer, when San knocked on your door for the first time to introduce himself.

You hadn’t been expecting anyone that day. Hell, you weren’t expecting anyone at all. You had totally forgotten that conversation with your father about the bodyguard you never wanted. But there he was - tall and broad-shouldered, wearing that same unreadable expression he had now that had caught you off guard the moment he showed up. 

“C-Can I help you?” You stuttered, momentarily taken aback at the gorgeous man with the sharp eyes staring at you as he stood stiffly on the other side of your door.

“Choi San,” he’d said, voice steady, almost too calm. “The new security detail you’d chosen?”

You cursed internally. You didn’t think your father actually went through that bullshit he was spewing. “R-Right,” you cleared your throat. “Have you been briefed?”

He shook his head. “Not much, no. I was told to go straight here,” he spoke quietly, but firmly. 

It had started with a polite handshake, something he probably did out of politeness, before you begrudgingly invited him inside your penthouse. For a moment, you caught yourself staring at his side profile, your head tilting up slightly just to even get a glimpse, the way his shoulders tensed as they almost bumped into yours. He didn’t even look at you.

Odd, you thought back then. You weren’t used to being ignored, it was a completely foreign feeling to you and you did not like it one bit. You reined in the twitch of your lips. You’ll just have to see what this man was made out of. If you were going to have someone tailing you, you might as well enjoy it, especially since this one was undoubtedly attractive.

“Sit, make yourself comfortable,” you motioned, walking in front of him, flicking your hair seductively along with the alluring sway of your hips and your plush ass, your voice taking on a suggestive tone.  “Tell me what exactly it is you plan on doing now that you’re here.”

But San didn’t sit. In fact, he didn’t even move. He simply looked at you with an unreadable gaze, his hands tucked neatly at his sides, his back so straight that it made your own back ache just by looking at him. You faltered, momentarily freezing at how stoic and nonchalant this man was acting around you. There was only that cold, steady stare that unnerved you more than you were willing to admit. You almost felt small. That was new. 

“I’ll do what I was hired to do,” he said simply, and for the first time, there was the faintest trace of disinterest in his voice. 

Oh? You squinted your eyes, now frustrated at this man’s total disregard at your attempts to grab his attention. Was it you? That couldn’t be, you were definitely an attractive woman. So what was it? You refused to believe that someone wasn’t falling for your charms.

You remembered how he looked so out of place standing in front of you back then, like he had no intention of fitting in. Like he didn’t even care about fitting in. You were used to being wanted, adored, admired. You could blink and people bent over backward to get your attention. But San?

Then, there were his eyes. That was something that never did change even after all these months. Deep, dark, almost unnervingly intense. They weren’t the kind of eyes that softened when they met yours. You remembered crossing your legs, your dress riding up to show that small sliver of skin up your creamy thighs, as well as your arms to position your arms under your shapely breasts, pushing them up to a point that if you leaned forward even a little, you wouldn’t doubt that they would spill out from your bra. 

“That’s all? What a bore,” you purred, clicking your tongue after, purposefully taking a deep breath that made your breasts puff up even more, watching closely if he’ll break a sweat. “You’re not even going to talk to me?”

San’s eyes met yours dead on. He didn’t even blink, nor did his composure falter. But yours certainly did. “With all due respect, I’m here to be your shadow and protector,” he ascertained, voice tightlining between professional and sarcastic. “I won’t be at your disposal just to entertain you. I wasn’t hired for that.”

You were startled out of that memory by the door being unlocked and the sight of  San holding the umbrella to prevent the rain from casting down upon you. You stepped out, placing a hand on San’s bulked out biceps for support, but not before grazing your hand with his warm one. He pulled away as if you had burned him intensely.

“You should come inside,” you offered with a small smirk, squeezing his bicep just enough to solidify the touch you had on him. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the faintest pull you had towards him. “I could make you coffee.”

It was bullshit and you knew both knew it. He shrugged your hand off of his bicep, not even looking at you. “I’d rather not,” he whispered quietly. “I’ll be waiting in the car with the driver. Send my regards to Mr. Kang and First Master Yeosang.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when San walked past you, opening the car door to get in.  Though if you were honest, you could have sworn you heard the faintest crack in your ego at his blatant rejection. He always denied going into your house, always stating that his job involved protecting you, not pleasing your father.

Fair, you thought as you walked past the grandeur of the golden gates that served as the barricade between the world and the house you grew up in. You were the one to brief San, after all. Well, not entirely since Yeosang oversaw the hiring process to barely brief San in person, but that was it. Everything else was you.

When you randomly picked out San’s resume out of all the other applicants, your father instructed his assistant, Kim Hongjoong, to contact him and send him directly to you. You blazed in anger amidst your bruised pride at San’s refusal to give in to your seduction - your petty father had thrown you both into the deep end, keeping San in the dark on purpose.

Your father never met him, never explained his role beyond the vague title of “bodyguard.” San had no idea what the job truly entailed - or how far he’d be expected to go to protect you. In an act of malicious compliance for your rebellion, your father dumped full responsibility onto you, despite your lack of experience in hiring anyone.

San was yours to command. Your father simply paid his salary, but beyond that, San was entirely at your disposal. You wouldn’t be surprised if your father forgot that San was technically on his payroll.

It was difficult. You were pretty sure San saw how ill-prepared you were at giving him commands. And still, San stayed. Silent, reliable, distant, but present. That made you want his attention even more. You had gotten used to everything coming easily, and San? He was the one thing that didn’t come easily. He was everything you weren’t used to, and in that sense, he became something you needed to figure out.

Love at first sight.. How sordid. It would make sense because it would explain the instantaneous attraction you had with him and you were still holding on to that specific memory like it was a fragile treasure you didn’t want to lose. But was it love at first sight, though?

Nah. 

San was someone your family wouldn’t approve of, he was your employee. San wasn’t the kind to care about your feelings. San was someone who didn’t give two bits of shits about you. San was unattainable, and you liked that.  He was a puzzle you couldn’t solve; a mystery you couldn’t unlock.

You always got what you wanted. Always. And you wanted San the moment you saw him for the first time. He was older, big, strong, a bit of a tough nut to crack, but he is only a man after all. You were so sure you could have him wrapped around your finger. You didn’t want his love. You just wanted to win. To break through that armor of disinterest and make him falter, even for a second. A glance. A crack. Something.

But if there was anything cracking, it wasn’t San. It was you and your resolve. This man did not look at you twice, did not linger longer than he was needed, did not look past down your neckline, did not break a single sweat, nothing. 

So you didn’t need a bodyguard. You still didn’t. But somehow, here you were, still haunted by the memory of the stoic figure who knocked on your door that warm summer morning. The game had changed. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be the one who’d finally lose.

“Is he here? Dad?” You asked the butler who had approached you and gingerly took the umbrella out of your grasp the moment you stepped in your childhood home. “Thank you.”

Your attention was caught by the telltale sound of dress shoes clacking from the furthest side of the room. They were Oxfords, you reckoned, and there was only one person you knew who wore Oxfords on a daily basis like they were the solution to mankind’s plight.

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother. “Why is it that every time you arrive, you never announce your presence?” Yeosang scoffed, clicking his tongue in faux disappointment. He crosses his arms, a smirk painting his face. “I trust you bring me good news?”

“Hello, Yeosang. I’m fine, thank you very much for asking. Travels were safe, not too much traffic,” you sneered, your teeth grinding in annoyance and in the adoration you tried not to peek through. “But yes, Seonghwa signed yesterday. Hesitate to put me and him in the same room next time, please. Are you going out with Wooyoung?”

He nodded. “Him being the Security Department Head gives him less time. I was on my way out to meet the bastard, but I’ll cancel for you.”

“Let him. What he does is hard,” you chuckled, mentally thanking Woooyung for technically assigning San to you even though you picked him out. “Don’t let me stop you. I have to talk to Dad anyway.”

Yeosang hummed in dismay. He raises his arm to sling it around your shoulders like he always did, but halts midway to raise a brow, the tips of his fingers feeling the coat you had forgotten you had. “Who’s is this? Doubt it’s Seonghwa’s. Dude’s a germaphobe and a half.”

You frowned, gripping San’s coat and pulling it closer to your body as if to protect it from Yeosang’s scrutiny. “First off, I wouldn’t touch anything of Seonghwa’s within a ten foot pole,” you huffed. “And this is San’s. I didn’t know it was going to rain and I wasn’t dressed warm enough when I left this morning.”

Confusion crosses Yeosang’s face, his hand gradually dropping back to his side. “Who?”

“Who? San? My bodyguard,” you frowned, feeling slightly offended for San’s sake. “You know, the bodyguard Dad shoved down my throat repeatedly until I got sick of denying him and just let him have his way?”

You weren’t an angel, no. The things you wanted to do to San weren’t heavenly, by all means, but you couldn’t help but feel offended on his behalf. No matter how frustrated you were with his denial, it wasn’t fair for San to be forgotten when his job was to literally keep you safe. 

“Huh,” Yeosang muttered, tilting his head like he was making a note to himself, not responding to you. “I didn’t know that’s what you called him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You said, raising a brow, almost like it hurt to even ask. “People have names and therefore should be called as such. It’s called basic respect, Sangie. Regardless if they're....”

You trailed off, the insinuation bringing a bitter taste to your mouth. San deserved better than that. You could argue that, perhaps, you could be a better person in general, but even you knew where the line was. Pretending like someone didn’t deserve a name? That crossed it.

Yeosang was about to open his mouth and retort but lost the opportunity when someone else crossed the living room - someone you were looking forward to seeing, but someone you wished you didn’t have to see at the same time. 

“Y/N, my precious one, why is it that you never announce your arrival?” Your father grinned, his entire face lighting up with joy while all you could do was roll your eyes at Yeosang who was smirking at you. “Come, come, give this old man a hug. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You clicked your tongue, rolling your eyes once more, but gave your father a tight hug anyway, one that he returned. “I was just about to have some tea on the patio. I could use some company.”

You groaned internally, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. “I’ll think about it.”

It was how you found yourself sitting across from your father, who sipped his tea with practiced grace, eyes peeking over the rim of his cup to study you. “So,” he began, placing the cup down to finally face you, his signature businessman look replacing his easygoing one. “I heard about the meeting today. Kim says it was disastrous.”

“Hongjoong,” you looked him straight in the eye, something only you could do and he knew it. “Would be correct. These people have no respect towards the board. They didn’t even prepare a presentation that would corroborate if our data coincides with our monthly reports. Terrible.”

You were giving him the bare minimum and he knew it. “You know, slacking won’t make it go away,” he said gently with a soft smile. “The company. Your name. It’s still waiting.”

“I know, I’m trying, I really am,” you murmured, eyes fixed on a spot beyond the garden hedge. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

Your father gave a slow nod, accepting but not entirely satisfied. “Then find something you do want. Don’t just float.”

You turned to him finally, and for a second, the sharp edges in your chest softened. A memory flashes through your mind amidst all your thoughts. You had to hide your smile by sipping on your tea again. It was one of the few instances where San actually spoke to you. You’d come to understand that he wasn’t exactly a conversation starter and you wanted to change that.

“You seem so…stiff all the time,” you shrugged, trailing behind him as he made his rounds on the perimeter of your office, perhaps lurking around for danger that’s not even there. “Have you ever thought of loosening up? Just once?”

San stops walking, his hands still behind his back, not bothering to even look at you, but you could tell he was at the end of his wits with how the veins in his neck were bulging at an alarming rate. “Forgive me for asking,” he said. “Have you thought of ever being normal?”

Usually, that would’ve set alarm bells in your head. You would have been offended if this was any other person, but this was San. San was different. San was someone you wanted. You laughed, shaking your head. “No, not really. You drive me crazy, you know?”

He sighed, fully intending to ignore the last statement and resumed his walking, or should you say, prowling judging by how intense he inspected your surroundings. “I figured as much.”

“Why?” You questioned, tilting your head in curiosity. “You say that as if it’s such a bad thing. And you’re still here as my bodyguard, so I would assume it doesn’t bother you as much.”

“My paycheque is rather hefty,” he deadpanned. “Money keeps me employed.”

“Ah, you say that as if the job itself is difficult and tiresome,” you shrugged.

“It isn’t. However,” he pauses, staring at you with that quiet, calculating look in his eyes before looking away again. You were glad he did. He barely looked you in the eye, but when he did, it always left you breathless. “Anyhow. Do you always wear your heart on your sleeves?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re predictable, my lady,” he said. “And that is what makes the job bearable.”

San was the first person to ever tell you something everybody knew but refused to say to your face straight-on and out loud - that, indeed, you wore your heart on your sleeves. As difficult as you were to handle, it wasn’t at all difficult to figure out what you were thinking.

Your dad’s eyes soften. He reaches for a biscuit, the one with the tart raspberry filling in the middle - your favourite - and hands it to you. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said. “At least tell me you’re working somehow.”

You looked away the moment he said that. “Yeah, yeah. I got that going at least,” you murmured through your teeth. It was half the truth; you were working, alright, but only once a week. That’s what you had Yunho, your secretary, for. Hopefully, your dad doesn’t find out.

“And speaking of things under your jurisdiction,” he cleared his throat. “How’s Choi Jongho doing? I heard he’s doing very well under you. It would do you well to keep him around. I’ll have to re-evaluate him soon. I heard he sang high praises about you during the meeting.”

You closed your eyes with a grimace. It was a pause long enough to be suspicious, partly because you had no idea who he was talking about. You barely went to work, let alone knew the names of the people who were supposed to be working with you. Chances are, he was one of the employees during the disastrous meeting.

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Good employee. Very efficient, very professional.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” he said. “Should I ask him if you’re going to the company consistently, then?

Ah, fuck. You turned to him, a blush of embarrassment creeping on your cheeks. “Dad, I can explain.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the moment linger for a little before chuckling, shaking his head. “Listen, it doesn’t concern me what you do in your free time, but at least try,” he filled your cup with more tea before pushing it towards you. “Our company will prosper if he’s with you. I hired him for a reason.”

“If that’s the case,” you frowned, getting ready to argue with him. “Why not have Yeosang do it? You said it yourself, if I tried, then I’d be busy.”

Your father raised a brow. “That’s counterintuitive.  Your brother doesn’t need him. We need you more than ever. You know how the Songs get, those wretched bastards…”

You bit your lip. The Songs were your family’s biggest competitors since the dawn of time. They played dirty and while you weren’t into company politics, you were not the biggest fan of how the Songs played their games. And things were about to get messier now that they were pushing Song Mingi for the CEO position. “Alright. You win, I will. I promise.”

“I know. I always do,” he smiled, making you roll your eyes. He pushes more biscuits in your direction. “Eat first. Maybe you’ll finally get the energy you need and actually do your part in the company, at least, even if you don’t want to inherit it.”

“I’m afraid biscuits aren’t going to be enough, Dad,” you smirked, taking a piece anyway and biting into it.

He laughed, and for a moment, it was just tea and biscuits again before the weight of your  legacy and destiny crept back in.

You did promise your father that you were going to try and do your part in the company even if it was the bare minimum. But you didn’t specify when. And that was definitely not going to be today. No, you had better plans for yourself than to step into that hellhole. You paused as you were putting your shoes on. Well, it wasn’t a hellhole, not entirely, you just didn’t want to go.

You had to hurry, though. Yunho was determined to pull you back. You had texted him last night, told him you didn’t want to go, but he’d been insistent. It wasn’t like him to let you get away so easily. You had even told San to wait for you in the parking lot just so you could get out of your place as quickly as you possibly could. He raised a curious brow, a rare show of expression for him, but chose not to question it.

You smirked, you had plans today. Maybe today was the day you could finally get your stoic bodyguard to crack a little. You were already giddy thinking about it, but the moment you opened your door to step out, your smirk drops instantly.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Yunho asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. He raises a brow, looking you up and down. “Sometimes, I wonder what goes on through your head. At least Seonghwa’s head is in the game, but you?”

Jeong Yunho was who you would call, for the lack of a better term, your original babysitter. He was the company’s Head Legal Counsel, the one who oversaw everything that had to do with litigation and legal advice when it came to paperwork. He was a brilliant one at that, too, but besides that, he had taken it upon himself to assist you until you got your bearings.

He was you and Yeosang’s childhood friend along with Seonghwa. He had always been the serious one in your silly group whereas Seonghwa was the laidback one, but you had always been closer to him growing up. It had been that way when you were kids, when he first stepped in and became a kind of unofficial babysitter to you up until this day.

“What are you doing here?” You shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “I haven’t seen your face in weeks and this is how you finally show up on me?”

Yunho’s job involved him being more of an online presence than anything. Zoom meetings were how you, or anyone in general, would have to contact him. “You know damn well why I’m here,” he scoffed. “You have a job, and I’m here to make sure you do it well.”

“I told you, Yunho,” you sighed, your tone more serious now. “I don’t want to deal with it. Not today. Can you just handle it for me, please?”

His eyes softened a little. He was the only one who knew the depth of how much you didn’t want to take over the company. “I can, but it doesn’t mean I should. The Songs are getting desperate. They’re bribing our people, love. Yeosang had to fire multiple of our executives this morning for selling company information to them and data breaching.”

Your brows shot up in mild surprise. You couldn’t say you were too surprised, but the fact that it was an open secret now was staggering. For once, you did feel bad. Yunho looked exhausted and he sounded frustrated, something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen in him in a while.

“Damn it,” you hissed, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples in agitation. “I really didn’t want to stress you out like this, Yun, I really am.”

It was maddening. You were mad at your Dad for not listening to you when all you’ve wanted was to be shackled away from the responsibilities you told him over and over again you didn’t want any part of. You were mad at yourself for dragging your poor friend through the mud when all he’s been doing was to help you out.

But you were madder at the Songs. Just because you didn’t want your company doesn’t mean you were happy that someone was messing with it. This was your father’s hard-earned work, your mother’s legacy.

“I know, love. It’s not your fault,” a soft sigh escaped his lips. He finally stepped closer, handing you a sleek black folder you didn’t even know he was holding. “I already handled it. All this needs is your signature and then you can drop it off. Attend a short meeting and you can do whatever you want after.”

You hummed, taking the folder from him. It had a surprising amount of weight on it. “What’s in this?”

Yunho looked left and right, gauging if there were people close by, and when he deemed the coast clear, he leaned closer to you. “Internal affairs,” he whispered in a voice so hushed, you could barely hear him. “Trade secrets. Please, and I mean, please do not let this out of your sight. Our numbers, strategy, future drafts - they’re all here. We’re screwed if this gets out.”

You sighed and nodded, flicking through the papers inside the folder. He was right, you were basically holding the future of the company in your hands. “Alright,” you said. “What time do I have to drop it off?”

“Four in the afternoon. You have time, but I have to go. I still have to draft some paperwork for that project between Yeosang and Seonghwa,” Yunho murmured. ”And I was told that you should give the folder to Jongho. It’ll be safer with him.”

Who? You wanted to blurt out, but bit your tongue at the last second. You didn’t want another lecture from Yunho about how much you were slacking off again. Great, you thought. Another person I have to learn about when I get to work. Jesus.

“Sure,” you absentmindedly agreed, hugging the folder to your chest for safety measures before reaching up and putting your hand gently on the back of his neck to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. We’ll catch up soon.  Say hi to Hwa for me, will you?”

He simply nodded, giving you a kiss of his own on your forehead. “I will. Take care, love.”

Your steps were heavy, but the further you walked, the more you realised that the folder wasn’t the thing that was holding you down - it was the newly added burden and load on your back with all the newfound information you got from Yunho. You were at a loss and you could only imagine how your father reacted to the news. It was getting harder to stay away most especially because you did not want to completely turn your back away from your family as a whole.

Those thoughts plaguing your head were the reason you completely forgot that San has been waiting for you in the parking lot for quite some time. You had caught him just in time taking his phone out of his pocket, presumably to call you; something you instructed him to do if you were ever late to anything in general.

Seeing his relieved expression when you walked closer to him brought an unexplainable amount of joy in you. You smirked, easily seeing yourself forgetting all your worries temporarily in the name of teasing your attractive bodyguard.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you smirked, swaying your hips purposefully as you walked towards him to rile him up for your own amusement. “Got held up a little, you see. I’m sure you could understand.”

You could see San trying his damned hardest to not roll his eyes. You have to give it to him, really, San’s professionalism was something you’ve always admired in him given that you weren’t the easiest client to deal with.

“No worries, my lady,” he murmured, opening the back door of the car for you to enter. You tried not to stare at the way his big hands wrapped around the car handle. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

It was hard not to notice how much he tensed when you stood beside him. San cleared his throat, subtly inching away from you by stepping back once. You didn’t mind his avoidance today. In fact, you kind of liked it. It kept things interesting, and after all, what was life without a little fun?

“Is that so?” You leaned in just a little closer, enough to get a whiff of the musky cologne he always wore; the one you smelled even when he was not around. “Did you miss me while I was gone?”

His lips twitched, still avoiding eye contact with you. “I missed it when you were absent,” he deadpanned.

You scoffed at the sarcasm, your lips curving into a wolfish grin. This was why you were so drawn to him. San’s ability to garner your entire attention by not asking or begging for it always left you reeling and wanting for more. It was exhilarating to find new ways to get under his skin. “Ah, don’t be like that,” you waved off. Suddenly, an idea pops in your head and your smile widens. “Actually, I’m not in the mood to sit in the back. I want to sit in the front seat this time. That alright, San?”

You bit your lips to stop yourself from laughing when you saw his left eye twitch. “Of course,” he agreed through gritted teeth, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary, the loud bang echoing throughout the entirety of the parking lot.

You shot him a playful smile as he opened the passenger door, letting your gaze linger a bit longer than necessary on his broad shoulders, the way his dark suit hugged his frame. There was something undeniably attractive about how he always seemed to be in control.

“After you, my lady,” he gestured lazily inside the car, waiting for you to get in. You could almost hear him telling himself to keep his cool, but the slight tension in his shoulders betrayed the calm exterior.

As usual, your hand found itself touching San’s bicep, guiding yourself gently even though you were capable enough to get into the car. “Hmm,” you purred flirtatiously. “Such a gentleman, San. I know you’ve always liked me.”

San’s expression was a blend of irritation and restrained amusement, his lips twitching at the edges as if he were fighting a smile. Or, perhaps, a snarl. His eyes flickered to you, then away. Your heart did a double-flip in your chest against your will. You weren’t kidding when you said you found his eyes beautiful.

There was something so attractive about the way his sharp eyes were trained on you. It was a look that said he knew you were testing him, pushing him just enough to see how far you'd get before he snapped. You could only wish that he was quietly impressed by your nerve.

“Well, what can I say?” San replied sarcastically the moment he got in the driver’s seat. “It’s not every day I get paid to stick around. You really know how to make someone feel so special.”

You breathe out a laugh, turning your head to look at him to say something back, but the words died on your tongue long before you could even try to get them out. This was the closest you’ve ever been to San. It was just you and him in the tight enclosure of the car. This was what you’ve always wanted to achieve, but now that you were here, you didn’t know what to do. All your senses were starting to alight - your sight because all you could see was him. Your hearing because all you could hear was his steady breathing filling your ears as if it were syncing with your own.

Your taste because you could’ve sworn that your heart had practically leapt in your throat, and you could taste the anticipation. It was sweet and impossible to swallow. Your nose because you could smell the oncoming tension between you and San a mile away. Your touch because every inch of your skin was suddenly too aware of the electrifying sensation between the both of you.

You didn’t dare move. One breath too loud, one twitch too bold, and the fragile thread between you might snap or ignite. San’s gaze flicked to yours, and for a second, the world held its breath with you. You looked away, clearing your throat awkwardly, clutching the folder you had like it was your lifeline.. You only hoped that San couldn’t read what was going on in your mind.

“Well,” you began, a little bit too quirky and lighthearted even in your own ears for it to sound natural, trying to cover the tension that suddenly seized the space. “I’m about to make you feel even more special. I need a pen. Got documents to sign and some dude named Jongho to see.”

It was when his eyes shifted towards the folder you were holding. Whether it was because of the tension or the need to suddenly concentrate on something, his eyes focused so hard on the folder that you wouldn’t even be surprised if it suddenly caught on fire. But minutes passed, and he was still eyeing it. 

“What? I’m not brain-dead, you know,” you tried to joke out to lighten the uncertainty. “Contrary to what you think, I do do important stuff for the company. Signing paperwork is one of them.”

He blinked once, and the next time his eyes opened, they were already looking at you. It was a bit startling. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he was deep in thought, or maybe trying to read you just as hard as you were reading him.  Just then, he began to lean forward. His eyes deliberately never left yours as his entire body began to shift closer to you. You swallowed, your pulse slamming against your ribcage, your body going rigid. That steady, unreadable gaze pinned you in place was intentional.

Somehow, that was worse. Time warped and you stopped breathing entirely. He was so close at this point that you were able to see the small details that you wouldn’t have otherwise - the small, scattered freckles on his neck, his plump lips that were parted slightly, the slow blink of his individual lashes.

And his eyes, God, those eyes. There was a fire inside that started a riot in your heart and it was about to explode into flames. There was something so devastating in the way he looked at you, like he knew that the real heat was emanating from the outside, and it was coming from his body slowly inching closer and closer to you.

Click.

He reached past you, eyes still locked on yours, his face only a couple inches from yours. One move and it’ll all be over. He opened the glove compartment, his hand rummaging for something before he pulled out the pen you’d asked for. “Here,” he said, voice low and unreadable as he offered it to you like he just didn’t steal your breath away from your lungs.

You stared at the pen then at him. You didn’t grab it immediately and just let the pen hover in the air as he held it, your eyes refusing to cut contact from San’s. It was difficult and that was the truth. But, you weren’t backing down. You wouldn't be the one to look away. You let out a small smirk. Two can play this game.

You finally lifted your hand to take the pen, but you didn’t stop there, no. At first, you just wanted to graze your hand teasingly with his, but your impulsiveness made you grab his entire hand,  fingers curling gently around his as you slid the pen out from under them. Your fingers twitched, breath hitching, at the jolt of electricity that transpired between your fingertips.

San’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he raised a single brow at you. It wasn’t out of surprise. It was controlled, maddening, and unreasonably seductive. That one expression made your insides churn with heat and challenge. There was something so unbothered in the way he looked at you like he knew exactly what you were doing. It was as if he was daring you to continue. Go on, his eyes said. I want to see how far you’d take this.

There was a flicker of surprise that crossed your features when his thumb grazed lightly against your knuckles. You pulled away, the pen in hand and your pulse in your throat. Neither of you won. You looked away at the exact same time that San decided that the parking lot was now more interesting than whatever it was that transpired between the both of you.

“Thanks,” you said softly, unable to project your voice louder for fear of it cracking under the tension that squeezed you and San dry. 

San leaned back into his seat like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just lit a match and dropped it into the gasoline of your thoughts. “You’re welcome,” he rumbled, voice scratchy and raspy. “What’s the agenda, my lady?”

My lady. You were so used to him calling you that, heck, you didn’t even tell him to call you that in the first place but it just stuck when he refused to call you by your name. And you never minded, until now. For some reason, hearing him say it after what just happened made you feel a certain way that you didn’t understand yet.

Regardless, you were glad for the change of pace. This was a dangerous avenue for you, and it was something you were far less interested in exploring more than your inheritance and that was saying a lot.

“Let’s kill time for now. I’m taking your advice and will be passing through the bakery that I like,” you answered, skimming the paperwork carefully before placing your signature on every page that needed it. “Then at four in the afternoon, I just need to drop this paperwork off.”

“Important paperwork, I’m assuming?”

You paused, your pen halfway in the air as you stared at San. This was new, San had never once asked about whatever you were up to general, let alone anything that was related to work. “If you consider the future of the Kang Corporation important, then yes,” you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You finished signing all of the paperwork without a hitch, suddenly remembering what Yunho said earlier before you left. A frown makes its way to your face, what was it that he said again? You could’ve sworn that it was about the paperwork, were you perhaps meant to give it to somebody?

You sighed. Damn it, you thought, side-eyeing San who was still looking out in the parking lot with the most detached eyes. You are the most distracting man ever, I swear.

A sigh leaves your lips again, this time, more exaggerated. It was the kind that was loud enough to be noticed. And you were right, San suddenly whips his head around to look at you, and when he does, you drop your head back against the headrest and brought the back of  hand to your forehead like you had some fever you couldn’t sweat out.

“God, I’m so stressed,” you whined with the fakest, more overdramatic pout you could muster. “Super stressed, I say. All this work, and for what? I swear nobody looks out for me.”

You shifted in your seat at lightning speed, turning towards him fully with a smile so sweet that it was too good to be true. “This might be unprofessional, but can I please get a cuddle?” You asked, voice dripping in syrupy sugar and pure fakeness.

He blinked repeatedly, caught off-guard at your audacity and how thick-faced you were. “No.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, whining softly at his denial. “Call it a comfort hug. It’ll make me feel better.”

He stared at you, his stony face not shifting once. “No.”

You pouted again, your bottom lip jutting out a little too much when he started the car. You waited until he drove out of the parking lot before shooting your shot again. “So you don’t want a hug,” you said. “Hold my hand while you drive, then—”

“No,” he reiterated without missing a beat.

But you weren’t giving up. “Okay. Maybe a pat on the head?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

You scoffed. “Why not?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said flatly in that maddeningly calm voice of his.

You paused for a beat before bursting out laughing. You weren’t hurt, not at all. You were just so used to people falling over themselves to give you what you wanted, that San’s absolute refusal was kind of hilarious. “Here I was thinking that you liked me and that we had something good going on,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I believe that there was a connection there.”

“And I believe that this is your hunger talking,” he muttered sarcastically. “Fear not, we’re almost at the bakery.”

You laughed again. “You’re funny, but I can’t believe you think that low of me,” you clicked your tongue. “Seriously, though. Have you ever thought of breaking protocol for someone you potentially liked?”

“No, but I’ve increased the distance when clients get too flirty,” he side-eyed you with full intent, unimpressed.

“What’s the difference? You’re distant in general,” you pointed out.

"Do I seem distant, or is it that you never earned my closeness?"

You whistled, impressed. You had to admit that that was very good on his end. “Ouch. You hurt my feelings,” you put your hands on your chest, groaning dramatically for effect. “However shall I recover from this brutal pain you’ve bestowed upon me?”

“I have a feeling that you’ll live to see another day, my lady,” he murmured in finality, side-eyeing you with intent once more. Jesus, you’ll be thinking about that for days to come.

God, he was infuriating. You didn’t say it out loud, but you loved the challenge. You had a feeling that it was only because this was San, and that was the problem. He was your favorite kind of problem. You weren’t good at problem-solving, not at all, but for the enigma that was your bodyguard, you might as well be.

You were shallow about it. You wanted to see that cool exterior crack just a little, to feel powerful again, for you to see that even someone as untouchable and unobtainable. It wasn’t about San. Not really. It was about you and what you thought you deserved. He just happened to look like the perfect prize.

Come hell or high water, I will get what I want. It was like nothing happened. The way he guided you towards the bakery as you entered and even when you were ordering could have made you crash and burn. He was just doing his job, but that was it, wasn’t it? San was literally just doing his job when you wanted something more.

“Do you want to eat anything?” You asked, placing your iced coffee and your beloved French macarons with toasted sugar on top of the table, sitting down as San pulled the chair for you like the true gentleman that he was. A little too gentlemanly, but eh, I’ll take it.

He was in the process of shaking his head anyway when you both heard his phone buzzing in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and immediately, his face changed. His jaw tensed, and a shadow passed over his features. “I need to take this,” he said. “Would it be alright if I stepped out for a minute?”

You blinked, a little surprised at the courtesy, but nodded anyway. “Yeah, go ahead.”

You took this as the time to further review the paperwork Yunho gave you, but you couldn’t fully concentrate; not when your eyes keep fleeting on the man you’ve set your sights on whose phone was on his ear, his face darkening every second that he spent the entire time he talked to whoever called him just now. For a split second, those dark, tantalizing eyes met with yours before he looked away.

Something was wrong, you could feel it, but it wasn't your business. The way his eyes would set ablaze and the way his jaw ticked told you everything you needed to know. It looked personal. Was it family related? Or perhaps a lover he was quarreling with? You swallowed a piece of the macaron a little too hard, shaking your head to rid yourself of the thought. San could have anyone he wanted, that wasn’t any of your concerns. A player has no business wanting details about their prize.

By the time San got back inside from his phone call, you were finished eating and drinking your coffee. You were half-tempted to ask him what it was all about, but you reconsidered it. It was better for you not to know things about San. The less you know, the better you’ll sleep at night. “I apologize for my temporary absence,” he said.

You waved your hand in front of you nonchalantly, gathering the folder to tuck it underneath your armpit. “We have to get going,” you said, standing up in the process. “I have to drop this thing off to—what was his name? Jongin? Ah, I think it’s Jongh—”

“Actually, I was thinking of going for a walk with you,” San said, cutting you off so casually that it made your brain stutter.

Pause. Did I hear that right? You blinked repeatedly, tempted to even stick your fingers in your ears just in case your ears were clogged up. “A walk?”

San nodded toward a narrow path that cut through a small, tree-lined park just off the road. “There’s still plenty of time to kill,” he said, calm, steady. “And you’ve been going on about stress in the car. I reckon it’s good for digestion to go for a small walk after a meal or a snack.”

You raised your brows, the suggestion catching you off guard. San never suggested doing things with you, let alone a small walk. But despite yourself, your heart rate started to pick up at the prospect of taking a side-to-side stroll with San and curiosity got the best of you. The company could wait, it wasn’t like it was going to close its doors on you if you were thirty minutes late.

It was the right decision after all. There weren’t a lot of times where peace came into your mind with the pressure building up from all the responsibilities your family refused to let you ignore, but the sweet scent of blooming flowers, the earthy aroma of the damp soil after a light drizzle, and the cool smoothness of the paved concrete was rather soothing.

And there was San walking side by side with you, your steps louder than his on the cracked stone as you traipsed aimlessly. You had no ending in mind, not with how distracting his face was as the sun hit the high points of his features. You ignored it, opting to focus on the  occasional birds darting overhead.

“So,” you glanced at him, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. “It’s a nice day for walking. Perfect for admitting that you’re also starting to like me a little.”

San didn’t respond. He just kept on walking leisurely, observing his surroundings a little more attentively, you’ve noticed, though that is to be suspected since that was quite literally his job. Still, you tried. It wasn’t everyday you get to do this with San and you were going to take full advantage of it.

“Hello,” you drawled, stretching out the word longer than usual to catch his attention. “A conversation literally goes both ways, you know that, right?”

Nothing. Just his hands behind his back, his back so stiff and straight as he kept walking forward. You huffed dramatically, stepping directly in front of him so you could turn and face him while walking backwards. Big mistake. You forgot how huge San was and his imposing figure was towering over you. It made you feel small, but again, you were nothing but persistent if you wanted something. The reward was always greater after because if there was no pain, then there would be no gain.

“Slow down, tiger,” you put your hands in front of him playfully. “You think of a topic we could talk about, then.”

He did not, in fact, slow down. He glanced at your hands once before gazing back in front of him, stepping aside so he could walk past you. You wanted to scoff at the sheer audacity. It was like he’d fully mastered the art of selective hearing just for you and it would have been hilarious if it was in another scenario.

You turned around, speed walking once again just to stop in front of him. You crossed your arms defiantly on your chest. “San.”

This time, he did stop, finally glancing at you with that familiar unreadable expression on his face. You pouted, giving him arguably the best puppy eyes you could muster at the moment. “I feel ignored,” you said. “Which is odd because you were the one who got us here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed calmly, the light breeze tousling his hair as if even nature respected his ability to shut you out.

You frowned, not expecting the response. Or the lack thereof. “The heck does that mean?”

San relaxes ever so slightly, the hands that were always planted so firmly against his back now placed in his trouser pockets. You fought the urge to swallow. Somehow, this relaxed form made him seem larger. “I am afraid you wouldn’t like the answer, my lady,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Oh? So you do admit that you are ignoring me?”

“Mayhaps,” he spoke with infuriating elegance.

“Why?” You shot back, trying hard to take back the control you thought you had when you started this by flirting with him unapologetically. “Are you afraid of falling for me?”

“I’m afraid you’ll keep talking,” he replied, looking you dead in the eye for a couple of seconds before resuming the walk, hands still in his pocket.

You followed suit, trying to ignore the casualness of it all as you refrained from smiling. You wanted a different conversation, maybe something more up your alley, but you’ll take this. You'll take anything you could get from San. You’ll have anything that could feel as thrilling and as invigorating as this. “You make it seem like I’m a terrible walking companion to be with,” you shook your head, trying to tone down the delight in your voice. I’d have you know that I can make good conversations last.” 

“Debatable,” San replied smoothly, not even missing a beat.

“Well, if you weren’t so busy actively ignoring me, then you’d know,” you clicked your tongue. “I mean, you did ask for this. I thought it was kind of romantic, but you’re over here ruining the good that we have.”

“Well, I did suggest a walk, not a talk,” he replied, infuriatingly polite, even though the undertone was the opposite.

And yet. Yet, he was still walking beside you. He was close enough where he could pull close to him. You knew damn well you weren’t going to complain. None of you said anything, and the silence was enough to make your heart skip a beat for no good reason. You shrugged, must be the breeze. It was nearing winter, after all.

You’ve barely taken your next step when somebody walked out from one of the trees. It was a man wearing a hoodie that was pulled over his head, walking in the same path as you. It was odd, but you didn’t think anything of it at first. You and San wouldn’t be the only people walking around this path.

What was odd, however, was the fact that this man was now actively running towards your direction head-on. You were getting mugged in broad daylight. It was too late for you to react. Everything happened so fast. By the time you realized what was going on, the mugger was already twisting your arm painfully behind your back. You didn’t even have the time to scream - not when his sights were locked on the folder tucked beneath your other arm. Immediately, he snatches the folder, paperwork scattering all over the place.

Your eyes widened, anger searing in your veins as the realisation hit you like a freight truck. This folder held the Kang Corporation’s future, and there was only one reason why this mugger was interested in it as you played a sick game of tug-of-war to get the folder back, not letting go even if it meant imminent danger on your end.

Seriously? Fucking hell, you cursed internally. Are the Songs really that pathetic that they’d send a hit job in broad daylight? 

Unfortunately for this bastard, you weren’t the type to back down, especially if it’s some piss poor attempt at an espionage job from a bastard who was probably paid shit to do the job. You were angry because you weren’t expecting the Songs to go this low. You positioned yourself, raising your fist ready to hit back, the intent burning in your chest—

San’s arm immediately came up, body sliding in front of yours like muscle memory. His hand found your wrist. It wasn’t harsh, but it was firm enough to snap you out of the stupidity you were about to do as he pushed you behind him.

“Stay behind me,” he said, voice low, controlled, but you could feel the shift in his posture, the stiffening of his back muscles reminding you of a raging panther whose hackles were raised in danger. He was shielding you.

You hadn’t even noticed your heart picking up until then. Ironically, his touch made you more nervous than the impending doom happening in front of you. You tried to step back, startled. You stayed put behind him, even you weren’t dumb enough to tease San at a time like this, your hand tightly clutching the folder that you were positive that it was wrinkled and torn to the point of no return. Hell, you’re surprised that the folder stayed intact and hasn't ripped off in half yet.

Just then, a distant memory suddenly popped in your head. It was an inconvenient one at that, it was that one time you were trying to tease San just to get a reaction out of him. It was a week after meeting him - a week of your ego getting bruised repeatedly because he kept ignoring your attempts at seducing him and trying to get to know him.

“Now, why would they hire you as my bodyguard?” You clicked your tongue repeatedly, feigning disappointment. “You look like you’d break in half if someone so much as kicked you.” 

That wasn’t true, not at all. San’s shoulders were so broad that if you stood behind him, no one would be able to see you. His bulging muscles always made any shirt he wore look so strained, like it could barely contain the man. “My blackbelt says otherwise,” he counteracted politely, voice firm with a confidence only a man like him could carry with ease and conviction.

But you never had the opportunity to see if his blackbelt skills were legitimate because the look on his face was more than enough. You didn’t know what to do - you had a scowl on your face, holding his shirt for dear life, while San was staring the man down. You huffed softly, you were at least expecting a roundhouse kick or something.

That was it, though. You looked at San and he did have that warning look in his eyes that screamed danger, but that was the thing - it wasn’t all different from the usual look he also gave you. He was literally just staring the other man down - he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even need to yell or raise his voice.

No glare. Just a calm, controlled stare where he was dead still without having the need to blink. And you just froze, the folder still clutched to your chest, waiting and expecting something to happen. But nothing, there was just silence on your bodyguard’s end as if that was enough.

And apparently, it was. The mugger - who you could tell was a young man if his chubby cheeks and the juvenile look in his eyes wasn’t enough to give it out - hesitated,  eyes narrowing like he was re-evaluating something only he saw. 

The mugger took one look at you, turned around, then jogged away. You scrunched your brows in confusion as you watched the man’s figure disappear among the trees. There were no traces of him being here except the papers strewn all over and the nervous beating of your heart.

You stood there, frozen in place for a moment longer than you should have, staring at the empty space where the mugger had been. It wasn’t that you were expecting a wild confrontation, but whatever that was was even weirder than anything else you were expecting.

“What…the hell was that?” You asked amidst the weird, calm tension in the air. There was no answer, so you proceeded to bend down and picked up the papers in haste, not caring if they were in order or not.

That seemed to break San out of his own trance. His hand was still on your wrist, and normally you would have already been gloating and teasing him for it, but not today. You had no choice but to collect the papers with one hand only, but it was fine. You definitely needed the hand on your wrist to anchor you.

"We need to go," he said curtly, voice was low, edged with something you didn’t quite recognize, but it had that sharp quality to it that made you hurry.

You were spooked, almost terrified even, your father’s voice ringing incessantly in your head as San briskly put your seatbelt on for you. He knew exactly what he was doing when he coerced you to pick a bodyguard. For the first time in a while, you were more than thankful that you were forced to do something you didn’t want to

However, you were more than thankful that out of all the applicants, you randomly picked out San’s. Somehow, even in the chaos, he was the presence that calmed you down. He was solid, unshakable, and you were grateful for it. But as you stared at him as he drove out of the cafe, something didn’t sit quite well with you.

You weren’t dumb. You may pretend to be to get what you want, but you were far from it. Something had happened back there and San’s silence was weighing in on you. The whole situation was just…off. Something felt wrong, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Whatever it was, you needed to know. “San?” You asked softly, not in the mood to be playful with him. “That guy…he just left. There’s something wrong, don’t you feel it?”

San’s eyes flicked to you for a moment, but it wasn’t the same sharp, controlled stare he usually gave when he was ready to put you in your place. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. His face remained unreadable, and out of all the times that it was, this was the time where you genuinely disliked not being able to read what he was thinking.

“I-It just doesn’t add up in my head,” you stuttered your words out before you knew it, intimidated by the dark look on San’s face. You knew better than to press too much, he wasn’t the type of guy to crack under pressure - you’ve proven this time and time.

You almost jumped when sighed sharply, and finally he spoke, voice low, steady, and borderline scathing. “The kid was frightened. Simple as that.”

You frowned, not liking how vague and unsettling his explanation was. “Are you even hearing yourself? Repeat that, but slowly. And then tell me if that makes sense in your own ears.”

His gaze flicked to you again, but this time, it was colder. “What do you want me to say? You saw it yourself. He saw me, a big guy, a man. Imposing. Kid can’t pick someone his own size.”

You crossed your arms, watching his profile as the car sped down the darkened street, your mind racing with what had just happened. That did make a lot of sense, whoever the hell the Songs hired was ready to pounce on you, but the moment that San stepped in, it was like all his bravado vanished into thin air.

“Do not ask questions you do not want the answers to. There are things better left unsaid for your safety,” he said, cold and detached, when he saw you wanted to ask more. “He left, you’re unharmed, and that’s all that matters. You stay put and let me do what I was hired for. Call your father.”

It was a mess. Your father picked up two rings in after you called him - especially given the fact that you were never one to call him since you preferred talking to him in person - and you had to tell him in one breath everything from Yunho dropping off some paperwork all the way when you were mugged and now safe because of your bodyguard.

Your father was, naturally, upset about the whole situation. It was how you found yourself leading San to your guest bedroom in your penthouse because the moment your father hung up the phone, San had gotten a text message on his phone that he was now to spend all waking hours with you for your safety and that includes being in the privacy of your own home just so he could watch you.

You wanted to protest, but in the back of your head, there was a small part of you that was truly spooked by the whole encounter, so the words died on your throat before you could even think of uttering them. But that wasn’t what was truly bothering you was San now staying with you.

It made you want to scream, but you stopped yourself as you opened the door for him, stepping aside so he could take the big duffle bag he had brought with him inside to settle in. “Make yourself comfortable,” you muttered, trying to hide how flustered you felt with your situation.

San didn’t say much. He never did. Just gave a quiet nod, taking in the room with that ever-neutral stare of his and that was your queue to close the door and walk back to your room in a doozy. This is fine. San, the bodyguard that I’ve been trying to annoy, now sleeping just a wall away from me. Yep. Totally fine.

You were upset. For months, you’ve been trying to win over San for your own ego to make him come to your house. But not like this. The last time San was here was when he introduced himself for the first time and ever since then he’s always found the opportunity to deny the chance to come back inside. Whether it was because he genuinely didn’t like you or because of some moral compass he had in his head, you didn’t know.

But more than that, this was your house, and you were free to be whoever you wanted to be in it, but now, San was going to see you. This sense of vulnerability he hadn’t earned, but somehow, will have anyway. You didn’t want to care about someone who was technically paid to protect you. You didn’t want to get attached. That wasn’t your style. The game would be over before you knew it and that was the last thing that you wanted to happen.

San would be here. In your mornings. Your nights. In your silence. Your quietest, weakest moments. The thought of it made you breathless. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust San, on the contrary, you trusted him more than you should, his presence was never the issue. It was yourself that you didn’t trust.

As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, you heard the shrill ringing of your phone. The problem was, you had left it in the living room. You gritted your teeth in annoyance. You could only hope that San was still settling him in the guest room. You’d grab your phone and come back. Of course, as luck would have it, that’s not what happened.

The second you cracked your door open, you nearly jumped out of your skin. San was standing right there, his face blank as ever. “Jesus, you scared me,” you gasped, clutching your chest. You forced out a breathless laugh, though it came out more nervous than amused.

He simply raised an eyebrow and held out your still-ringing phone. You didn’t even realize he was holding it. “You left this,” he muttered. You awkwardly took the phone from him without even making eye contact.

San stepped back, already turning toward the hallway. You cursed internally, opting to answer the call in the wide breadth of your living room just so you could have more space to think and walk around. Not even an hour and San was already making you nervous. “Hello?”

“Y/N? Oh, thank God. Are you okay? I heard what happened from your dad,” Yunho’s frantic, but relieved voice sounded from the phone. “I should’ve come with you, I swear I should’ve.”

You pursed your lips, Yunho’s warm, honey-like voice instantly making you feel better. “It’s not your fault, Yun,” you reassured him. “I’m fine, but more than that, the folder is safe. Unfortunately, I still have it with me.”

“You do? I thought I told you to give it to Jongho this morning for safekeeping?”

“I know,” you sighed, letting your body plop onto the couch, but stopped yourself last minute when you remembered that San was literally just a few metres away from you, inspecting the entire house. You didn’t want him to think you were a slob or something. “I didn’t have the opportunity to. It’s a good thing San was there when I got mugged.” “How?” He pressed on, puzzled. “Was he not with you?”

You scrunched your brows in perplexity. “How? I didn’t even reach the damn company,” you retorted back, annoyed that all Yunho thought was the folder. “Those Song bastards were worse than I thought. It’s a good thing San was there or else I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Fuck, you think it’s them? Cowards, they really targeted you when you were at your most vulnerable too,” he gritted his teeth. “Also, San? Who’s that?” 

An irritated vein popped up from your temples. You’ve had it with people bypassing San, especially since he was actually very good at protecting you and your assets, but you’ll forgive Yunho since he was busy all the time. You looked to your left, subconsciously trying to track San, only for your eyes to meet his.

Your heart skips a beat and you want to groan. Why did he have to look that good? You couldn’t peel your eyes away from the sharp features of his face, the planes of his muscles bulging out even from the shirt he was wearing. His jaw was set firm and had this quiet confidence that was both alluring and irritating as he stared right back at you.

“Who do you think?” You scoffed, trying your best to keep your voice leveled even though there was heat rising from your neck to your cheeks.

Yunho made a confused sound from the back of his throat. “But—”

“A-Anyway,” you cleared your throat, not letting him finish. You broke eye contact off with San immediately before you combusted on the spot. “I-I have to go. Ask my dad for more information. Bye.”

You quickly hung up, dumping your phone on the far end of the couch before you closed your eyes, draping your arm all over your eyes in hopes of easing the tension weighing on your mind. Everything that happened today was seemingly crashing down on you and you were stressed.

“My lady?”

Ah, yes. Just the thing you needed to get rid of your stress. Messing with San seemed to always do the trick. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to do more checking outside the premises. I could buy us takeout after. Don’t want to risk you going out or having somebody deliver just in case.”

You smirked, removing your arm from your face to take a good look at him. “Aww,” you cooed. “Look at you being all concerned about my well-being. And here I was, thinking that romance and chivalry had long disappeared from this desolate world we live in.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing when San’s left eye twitched. He crossed his arms over his chest, aggravation clouding his features. “Must you always be this difficult? I take it back. You can choose not to eat dinner.”

“I mean, you could,” you shrugged mischievously. “But aren’t you curious if starvation would make me more….what was it you said? Difficult?”

“Curious? No,” he deadpanned. “Concerned? Absolutely. Especially when it comes to my mental stability.”

You clicked your tongue. “This is why I’m very fond of you, San. Your ability to talk like you do always excites me.”

“I aim to impress, after all. Glad I entertain you,” he replied sarcastically, shaking his head in exasperation from your antics. “Chicken from the corner sound good to you?”

It was awkward, to say the least. It was quiet, a little too quiet. The only sound in the background was the wind swooshing from your air conditioner and the utensils clacking against one another as you both ate in silence. He raises his head to look at you. “Food not to your liking?”

You shook your head. “It’s good. But…must you be this stiff even when you’re eating? I swear my back is hurting just by looking at you,” you rolled your neck, cracking it to make a point. “Relax. Security is good downstairs. I don’t need you on high alert all the time, it’s unnecessary.”

“It’s not about what you need,” he replied, tone neutral. “It’s about keeping you safe.”

You hated how that almost shut you up because he wasn’t wrong. Almost. “Fine,” you conceded after swallowing your food. “At least talk to me, though. The silence and boredom is killing me.”

“I would highly implore you to finish your food,” he murmured, gently rejecting you once again like he always does.

“Geez, talk about being a mood killer,” you rolled your eyes. “Eating together is supposed to be a social thing, you know? Or is it only me that you hate for some reason?” “I’m all for equal opportunities. I hate everyone,” he replied, emotionless. His eyes flicked to yours, that unreadable gaze pinning you for a fraction too long. “You look exhausted. You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“Okay,” you muttered, pushing your chair back with effort. “You win. I’m going to bed.”

San only nodded, his expression unreadable again. “I’ll keep watch.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but being mugged definitely took a toll on you. The second your head hit the pillow, you were a goner. It was the longest, dreamless, most peaceful yet unsettling sleep of your life. You slept a little too long, however. You were still disoriented, your limbs still heavy, when your phone suddenly rang loudly like an alarm trying to signal something. This wasn’t the first call, you reckoned, and suddenly, the pit in your stomach deepened because you could feel that something was wrong.

And you were right. Yeosang’s frantic voice was telling you that the company stocks went down. The Songs had suddenly launched a new product overnight. Your brain wasn’t even catching up yet, that is, until Yeosang had hastily mentioned that he, himself, designed that product and it wasn’t supposed to be out for another couple of months.

“Are you saying,” you swallowed, your blood running cold. “That there was a leak?”

“Yes,” Yeosang sighed deeply, his voice tight with frustration. “Dad’s already doing damage control, but it’s bad, Y/N. Are you sure that the folder Yunho gave you was secure?”

“Positive. That bastard who mugged me didn’t take anything, I swear," you replied faster than you could’ve fully woken up. Your thoughts refused to keep up, but one thing was for certain - the Songs had begun moving and they won. All while you slept.

Needless to say, you were stuck in your penthouse as per your dad’s instructions. He wasn’t mad at you, not entirely, but he was still upset at the entire situation. The good news was that it wasn't a bad thing. You actually disliked going out. The bad news was that San was with you 24/7. You weren’t talking all the time and he actually just stayed in the guest room more than he didn’t, but his presence alone was distracting you.

San was beginning to get on your nerves. You couldn’t even normally flirt your way into his nerves.. You didn’t know exactly what bothered you. He respected your privacy and boundaries and that, alone, meant a lot to you because you valued your own time a lot.

If anything, he was infuriatingly disciplined. He didn’t touch anything that wasn’t his, never stepped out of line, and moved through your home with the quiet efficiency of someone who had long since learned how to disappear into the background.

And maybe that was the problem. He was too good at blending in. Too good at making you forget he was there until you remembered, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The worst part was that sometimes you’d catch him looking at you just a second too long, and then he’d look away. God, that made you want to scream.

“Morning,” he greeted without any emotion the moment you got out of your room, tipping his head a little in courtesy before he went back to what he was doing on his laptop in the living room.

Your heart almost stopped beating, your hands becoming clammy at the sight of him. “M-Morning,” you murmured, passing him to open the big curtains in your living room to let the light in.

It’s been weeks and sometimes, you forget that San would be there the moment you’d wake up. You weren’t used to sharing your space, not like this. Not with someone who made your heart stutter just by existing in the same room. 

“I made coffee,” he spoke, his voice irritatingly calming and soothing as much as you hated to admit it. “I made too much, though. I figured you wanted some, I already put creamer and sugar in it and it’s ready in the fridge for you, in case you want it.”

You wanted to sigh. Damn him, you thought. It was the little things, too. He knew that you weren’t the biggest fan of hot, black coffee and you preferred it with a dash of cream and sugar. “Sounds good,” you replied. 

You were about to walk towards the fridge when he put his hand up, signalling for you to pause. “I’ll get it,” he said, already getting up from the chair to walk towards the fridge. You blinked repeatedly, your face going numb, not even noticing for a minute that he’d already stopped in front of you to hand you the coffee. “Here, take it.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, lifting your hands to take the glass. “T-Thanks.”

The moment you tried to wrap your hand around the glass, your hand accidentally brushes with his. This time, however, you were the one who flinched and pulled away. You gasped, pulling your hand to your chest as San stared at you, a frown decorating his handsome face. The tension was so unbearable that it had you dashing towards your room as fast as you could.

It was so awkward. You were so awkward. San was fine, he was acting like he always did around you and still wouldn’t look twice in your way unless you directly asked him a question or when he was asking you certain questions with regards to safety and all. Overall, you were the problem. You didn’t know how to move around him and it made you feel unsettled. San didn’t act like your house was his, but he didn’t act like a complete stranger either. He didn’t completely disregard you and was aware that you were living together, but he didn’t acknowledge this arrangement as more than a job at the same time. It was complicated and you had no idea what to make of it. The next encounter you had with him after stewing in your room for days was by sheer accident. It was midnight and all you wanted was something sweet for a snack. You were in the process of opening your fridge when something caught your eye - a movement in your balcony and you froze. His back was turned to you but you knew it was San.

He wore nothing but a tank top and some sweatpants, but the way his top clung to his skin because of sweat was almost sinful. He was working out, but it wasn’t just any workout. You knew Taekwondo when you saw someone practicing it. For a moment, you forgot what you were in the kitchen for. You’ve never seen San this focused; this human.

The way he flew in the air as if he truly belonged there, the powerful strides of his kicks, he was just different here. He was completely in his element. The intensity of his face in the midst of his focus made your stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to admiration.

You wanted to look away because you felt like you had just stumbled into something private, something you weren’t meant to see, and you were actually about to, but before you could lift your foot to turn around, San had already slowed his movements to turn his head and upper body to look at you.

San didn’t even flinch, he just stared at you with those cold, unbothered eyes with his brow slightly raised, an indication that he was just as surprised to see you watching him. “You’re still awake,” he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

“So are you,” you murmured after clearing your throat awkwardly, breaking eye contact and refusing to look at anything in his general direction. 

He stood straight, crossing his arms. “Is there anything you need?” San asked, calm and measured yet clipped and stoic. 

You blinked, suddenly thrown off. He wasn’t even rude or impatient, this was just him in general. “No,” you answered quickly, taking a tentative step back in preparation for your escape. “I-I’m fine. Carry on with your thing.”

Without waiting for him to reply, you scurried off, the hunger suddenly dissipating from your stomach in replacement with something else. You flopped on your bed, burying your face in your pillow to let out a strangled groan, hoping the pillow would swallow San’s muscled back away from your memory. 

By the end of that week, you couldn’t take it anymore. This wasn’t you at all, and you were at your end’s wits and you were sick and tired of being awkward in your own house. You need to take charge of this entire situation before the situation swallows you whole. You had to do something, anything.

You didn’t care anymore about the awkward tension or the weirdness between you. You stormed down the hallway, the resolve in your step. You knew that San would be in the living room doing God-knows-what, and you were right. You hesitated only for a second as you reached the doorway. His back was to you, and he looked to be writing something in a journal, you figured. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him do it, but you certainly weren’t going to mess with it since that was his privacy, just like he hasn’t messed with yours.

You walked in without hesitation, a strut and some renewed energy in your steps as sat on the other couch that was directly across where he was sitting. You smirked, feeling that familiar rush of power come back to you, that electric jolt of confidence that came when you were in control.

He stopped mid-writing, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. For the first time in weeks, there was something in his eyes, but it wasn’t the usual unreadable mask. It was curiosity. Pure, unadulterated curiosity.  Maybe even a flicker of something else.

You flashed him your signature grin, that one that always indicated that you brought nothing but trouble. He sighed loudly, removing his glasses - you didn’t even notice he was wearing one and your heart skipped one beat - and set them aside the table. “Yes, my lady?” San asked, already exasperated like he’d rather be somewhere else than entertain you.

“Nothing,” you answered, your eyes widened innocently. “I was just wondering how you’re settling, that’s all. You know…if you’ve perhaps forgotten that I’m here if you need help,” you bit your lips, giving him your best bedroom eyes. “I’ve been told I’m good help.”

His eyes flicker briefly, a twitch of frustration passing through them before he spoke again, his tone calm but now clearly edged with something else. "Oh, I haven’t forgotten about you,” he said. “Quite unfortunate. I almost succeeded, too, given you’ve been withdrawn lately."

You shrugged, but your smile only grew wider, more mischievous. How the hell have you lived without this for weeks? You almost forgot how fun it was to get under San’s skin. “Just say you missed me. Could’ve just knocked on my door, I don’t even lock it,” you chuckled.

San didn’t flinch this time. He stared at you for a moment before closing his notebook, crossing his arms and giving you his undivided attention. “I should’ve known,” he rolled his eyes. “I was wondering where that annoying flirt in you went. Turns out she was just recharging.”

You genuinely laughed. This was the most San has said to you in one conversation without him trying to shut the whole thing down and he sounded absolutely normal. Who knew you’d come to love normal when you’ve spent your whole life looking for something of the opposite? And somehow, you liked that even more than the thrill of getting under his skin. You knew whatever you were doing was working. He was trying not to show it, but you could feel the tension in the air shift away.

“Are you always like this?” San asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

You tilted your head in curiosity. He’s never asked you specific questions like this either. “Like what?”

“Like a hormonal teenager who flirts and treats everything like it’s a game.”

You stared at him, making a point not to blink on purpose. Oh, Choi San. If you only knew how spot on you were. You shrugged it away, your grin growing wider. “So straighten me up. If it’s such a problem, then how would you punish me?”

"By making you touch grass," San replied, not missing a beat, his voice holding just a hint of irritation. 

You laughed again, your amusement through the roof. “You’re hilarious,” you cleared your throat to shake your giggles out. “Why, though? Is that how you really think of me? Be honest.”

San stared at you, his gaze unshakable as he studied youThe way he looked at you made you nervous, like he was going to eat you alive where you sat. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. “You want honesty? You’re immature, Y/N.”

That was the first time he ever, ever called you by your first name, but you never imagined it would have been like this. “I’m not some convoluted project you could test just to see if everyone really does bend down to your will,” he continued, not giving you space to breathe. “But I’m just the tip of the iceberg, aren’t I? You act like this so your father expects nothing from you in the inheritance. It’s deliberate avoidance because you’re not ready for the real world.”

His words stung more than you expected, but you refused to let him see that. You could almost feel the walls you’ve built upon yourself crack slightly. “I see,” you hummed, your hands tensing in front of you a bit. “Is that it, San?” “You’re a lot smarter than you let on,” he pointed out, almost bored. “That’s the frustrating part. It’s impressive, though. It takes a lot of cunningness to make yourself look like you don’t know anything. The problem? You’re transparent. To me, at least.”

Something in your chest bloomed. It began spreading all throughout your body deep down your bones, and it was there to stay. You smiled, a little more genuine than you’re used to. “Is this what affection feels like coming from you?”

He rolled his eyes, his expression ironically relaxing even more. “Don’t push it. You’re still a walking chaos and a magnet for trouble. You make my job harder than it needs to be.”

“Ah, but here’s the thing, though,” you leaned forward, your voice dropping into something more soft, but still playful. “If I stop being the walking chaos you say I am, would that really make your job easier? Or would it just stop being less fun? ”

San pauses, freezes even. His eyes widen ever so slightly before he schools his expression back to the stony, impassive demeanor. For the first time, he was the one who was caught off guard. But, now there was interest burning behind those dark eyes. “That depends,” he finally said. “Are you going to act worse now that I’ve called you out for it?”

Ouch. Your eye twitched. San was blunt and he clearly wasn’t taking any of your bullshit. Thing is, you weren’t taking his, either. “Shame,” you shrugged teasingly. “Because I was thinking of doing something…fun.”

He exhaled sharply, his displeasure simmering and evident. “I’m your bodyguard, not your playmate. I don’t have time for games when I’m busy being on the lookout for your safety.”

You leaned in just enough to brush your hand across his arm, watching his muscles tense at the contact. You could practically see the battle raging behind his eyes as he lightly shrugged you off. "Not that type of fun, you silly goose," you giggled, shaking your head. "Though that could be arranged, too. I was thinking maybe we could get to know each other? I mean if we’re going to live together for a while, we might as well, you know?"

That part was true on your end. At the end of the day, it was tiring to walk on eggshells around him. Besides, he did save you from getting mugged, and for that, you had no problem giving credit where it was due. “And how do you propose that?” San asked, his lips pursed, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out if you were messing with him or not.

“The ball’s in your court, really. We could do this however you want,” you offered with a small shrug. “We could just talk or ask questions about anything. Interests, favourites, dark secrets, and whatnot.”

His jaw ticked. “I don’t have any secrets,” he said flatly.

“Liar. Everyone has secrets,” you retorted.

That might have been a mistake. His gaze sharpened and it got even colder, if that was possible. You felt chills; it was as if he was seeing through you instead of looking at you. There was a flicker of something that was a little too practiced and dangerous. It only lasted for a second but your breath still caught. 

Just as you were about to say that it was alright and he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, San let out another sigh as he visibly loosened up and settled back on the couch. “Five questions,” he grumbled. “No more, no less. Make it count.”

You pouted, cutely you could say. “Five? That’s it?”

“Yes. Four questions.”

You blinked repeatedly, gawking at him. Well played, Choi San, you thought giddily. And by the way his eyes twinkled slightly, you could tell he was thinking the same thing. Your lips curled into a satisfied smile, nonetheless, and you were careful not to let it look too triumphant. San offering anything willingly to you was rarer than a blue moon.

“Okay,” you cleared your throat dramatically, building momentum. “Why are boxing rings called that when they’re square but the fights are called rounds, instead?”

You wanted to burst out laughing at what seemed like five stages of grief and emotion on San’s face at your question. “Really?” He asked dryly, lips pressed into the flattest and most unimpressed line you’ve seen yet. “You had four questions and you wasted it on idiocy?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question,” you wiggled your brows. “It’s a perfectly legitimate one. We could make this as a practice round if you want.”

“Three,” he deadpanned, eyes ticking and staring you down so hard you were surprised you haven’t combusted on the spot yet.

“Alright, geez, lighten up,” you chuckled. “What’s a food everyone seems to like but you can’t seem to get into.”

“Easy,” he didn’t hesitate to answer this time. “Coconuts.”

“Oh,” you let out. “Usually I’d make fun of it, but I’ll let it pass this time because I don’t like coconuts either. What’s your reason, though?”

He hummed, seemingly pleased that you were finally having a somewhat decent conversation. “They’re a little too bland for my liking,” he supplied.

“Next,” you said, sitting a little straighter out of pure excitement at how this was going. “You know Leonardo DiCaprio?” He frowned at you as if mocking you for even asking that. “Okay, do you prefer Titanic or Wolf Of Wall Street?”

His brows both shot up, the intrigue evident, with a hint of surprise that you actually asked a really good question. He pauses, his expression hardening as he actually thought of the answer he’d like to give you. “To be honest, neither,” he began. “I do prefer Wolf Of Wall Street.”

“I’m actually surprised you watch movies to begin with,” you snorted. “But I agree, I’d choose neither, too. Those were just the popular ones. Out of curiosity, which of his movies is your pick in general?”

“Django Unchained,” he answered with more ease. “Yours?”

“Inception.”

He gave a thoughtful hum, looking at you with something different like quiet approval. You tried not to smile. San was answering your questions and that might not seem like anything, but to you, this was the most progress you’ve gotten in months. “I have a good one,” you said after a while. “What’s the weirdest undercover name you’ve used before you worked for me?”

That one caught him. Only slightly, but still, San was someone who was always on guard so this was a feat. A beat of hesitation passed before he finally replied, voice low. “Santiago.”

You stared. “You’re joking. You’ve got to be.”

“I never joke,” he said flatly.

There was a beat of silence for only a second before you burst out laughing. You laughed out so loud and so hard that uncontrollable tears started to pour from your eyes as you lay sideways on the couch, clutching your stomach, all while San crossed his arms defensively, frowning. “I’m glad it entertains you, my lady,” he said dryly. “That name gave my identity out back then.”

You burst out laughing again. “I bet. They didn’t even try, it’s hilarious,” you shook your head, wiping your tears with your palms. “That was a good one, thanks for the laughs, Santiago.”

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled out, unenthusiastic.

“Last question,” you carefully laid out, not sure how to ask the question you’ve been purposefully saving for last. “Do you ever regret working for me?”

His feline eyes held yours, not blinking once, as if the answers were in your eyes and he just needed to search for it thoroughly. For once, you wished you knew what San was thinking. His face was neutral, but it wasn’t entirely dismissive. He was genuinely deciding what to tell you. He ran a hand through his hair, finally settling for a response that satisfied himself. “Regret is a very specific word.”

You stayed silent. You waited and waited, but nothing. His eyes never left yours, but you knew he wasn’t going to elaborate further. You broke eye contact. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but the fact that he didn’t say yes? You’d take it. You loved a good mystery, after all.

You settled deeper on the couch, leaning your back against it, mirroring San’s exact position where he sat. Five questions, over just like that. It was the end, that was it, the agreement was over and there was nothing left to be said. No more questions to be asked. But somehow, neither of you got up from the couch and went to your respective rooms. In that moment, the silence between you wasn’t tense or awkward with all the things unsaid. It just was comfortable. There was a lot to unpack, after all.

“Why did you ask that?”

You turned your head slowly to look at him, confusion all over your face, not expecting him to speak up after. “What?”

His face was still impassive, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, but his eyes were…different. Dare you say it was a little softer than you were used to. “The last question,” he murmured. “Why do you want to know?”

You tilted your head, a smug smile spreading through your lips. “If you want to ask me questions too, I can play that game for you.”

He stared at you a moment longer, then exhaled through his nose, the closest thing you were probably going to get to San being a little more carefree. “Why do I even bother with you,” he muttered. “You’re a menace.”

So you stayed, answering his question in a way that would curb his curiosity without giving your intentions away. San stayed as well, prompting you to ask more questions off-handedly about the most random things. It ranged from places he’s been to the dumbest client he’s ever had - which thankfully was not you - and he answered them directly with grace.

You saw the tiniest crack in San’s icy facade, but you were not going to point it out. You didn’t even notice, too busy answering some of the questions he’d thrown at you randomly. “Ever been to a country you’d never go back to?” He asked lightheartedly in San fashion - emotionless but not necessarily empty.

You paused, thinking about it. “No,” you replied. “There are some that I’d rather go with people than alone, though.” The questions kept coming in one by one, each of them answered by either of you and those answers would stem another set of questions. It was a cycle, but it was one you didn’t mind getting stuck in. Your voices grew softer with serious questions, but grew louder in ridiculous ones.

“Admit it, you’ll miss me when I’m not around,” you replied in a sing-songy tone.

“Like a migraine. Brief relief before the next one hits,” he rolled his eyes.

Maybe it wasn’t about breaking him, maybe it was about trying to meet him halfway to see what would be the best course of action to get through San. You weren’t flirting anymore, you weren’t even teasing. You were just talking. 

And San’s eyes were on you the entire time, cool and assessing, not in a way that made you feel judged, but in a way that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t explain. The more you talked, the more San’s posture had completely relaxed - as relaxed as he could be - and he was starting to sound like he actually wanted to speak with you unlike in the beginning. Nobody was counting anymore and soon enough as five questions turned into thirty, the sun had long set and nighttime had come at last. There was nothing to it and the best way you could describe the atmosphere that had befallen the both of you was comfortable.

Thirty more questions and you were still there, but so was San. Both of you were sitting across each other still listening, talking, laughing, and watching. For the first time, San didn’t seem like your bodyguard - he just looked like San.

“Do I have to?” You sighed, clutching your phone. “You couldn’t have told me earlier? Can’t Yunho or even Seonghwa do it?”

Yeosang had just visited, so his call came as a surprise. “Sorry, Dad called,” he apologised. “Seonghwa’s a conflict of interest so Yunho will help set you up to work from home.”

You gritted your teeth. “Yeo, I’m only doing this out of obligation. I got mugged, remember?”

“I know, I tried,” he sighed. “Just go online then talk to Jongho. Dad wants to speak to him.”

“Then he should call him.”

“That’s—” Yeosang paused. “Shit, Dad’s calling again. Just get Jongho, I’ll handle the rest.”

You tossed your phone on the bed, exhausted. You didn’t blame Yeosang, he always did what he could, but your father was determined to push you into the CEO role. What’s more was that you were stuck in your penthouse. Frustrated, you went to find San again before Yeosang had called you. “San—”

“For the last time, I said no.”

He didn’t even look up from writing in his journal, his pen still moving in agile precision against the rough grain of the paper, his thoughts that he wouldn’t say out loud written in clear ink. You pouted, crossing your arms in defiance. “At least think about it,” you groaned. “Please?”

It had been days since that night.. Something had changed, you could feel it even though San still kept his distance and his walls were still high. “So watch a movie with me like I’ve been asking you to do this morning,” you said. “If you don’t want to take me to a restaurant, at least do something with me. Aren’t you bored as well? ”

He closed his journal, setting the pen and his glasses aside, before crossing his arms to look at you flatly. “Why do you want to go out badly? What phone call did you get?”

“Yeosang was here earlier when you went out and Dad wants me to work online this time. I don’t want to do anything, let alone find that Jongho guy again like that last time,” you grumbled, opting to tell him the truth. 

You’d rather do anything else than work for your dad, but you were also getting sick of being home too much. You expected San to offer one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, he went deathly still. He didn’t answer, just stared past you, like he was thinking hard about something, and for a moment, he looked dangerous, like his calm facade was cracking. You shrugged, concerned. “Fine,” you drawled, a bit nervous at how intense he looked. “I’m also sick of the food my dad has been sending us. I’ll do it, myself.”

This seemed to snap San out of his thoughts. His mouth dropped into a deep set frown, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he schools it back to his normal, neutral expression. “I do not like the sound of that,” he said slowly. “What are you trying to say?”

“Homemade food,” you shrugged, flashing him a mischievous smile. “I was thinking of cooking something for the both of us for lunch since I can’t go out anyway. And I don’t want to work, so it’s a win-win.”

“I have a better idea,” he said, deadpanned as usual. “We could skip lunch and go straight to calling an ambulance.”

You scoffed loudly, slightly offended at what he was trying to insinuate. “I was planning on doing a lunch special, you know? You might actually like it, so don’t knock it until you try it.”

“What’s the special?” San blurted out, not missing a beat. “Surprise food poisoning?”

You gave him an incredulous look, gawking at his audacity. You were about to say something when San stood up, leaning close to you with an unamused expression. “Do what you want,” he shrugged.

Your face brightened instantly and San could see it, his own eyes softening ever so slightly at the smile on your face. But there you were in your fully-stocked kitchen - courtesy of Yeosang - a couple of moments after those words left your mouth, a cold rush of panic rushing through you. You’ve never cooked a single thing in your entire life before, but you thought it wasn’t going to be difficult. At least, the videos made them seem so easy, but now that you actually had to do something, you were a lost cause. You decided on rice and stew. It was basically soup anyway, and all you had to do was throw in ingredients that made sense, what could go wrong? And the rice, you weren’t a total fool and you at least knew that you had to rinse it and cook it with water. Simple, right?

But as you stirred the bubbling mess in the pot, trying to ignore the fact that it looked more like an experiment gone terribly wrong, your doubts were starting to triple. When you were finished, you grabbed a spoon and gingerly tasted the stew, only to grimace and put the spoon back down slowly. It wasn’t bad, but it was…questionable. 

And San, for the first time, you genuinely did feel bad for him. To his credit, even though his lips were pulled into an unsatisfied frown, he still tried and tasted it, his face scrunching up. “It’s, uhm,” he cleared his throat, more so because his throat was probably burning. “Something.”

You bit your lips, closing your eyes in embarrassment as you watched San contemplate if he should even eat anything. At least he didn’t laugh or mock you, which you did greatly appreciate. “I,  uh, this was a mistake,” you started to take the plates away in shame. “I guess in the end, I have to work anyway. I’ll order food for us in the meantime.”

Your face burned in embarrassment as you put the plates in the sink. You dreaded work, but you’d do anything to get rid of this shame, even finally finding and talking to that Jongho guy your father has been looking for.

“Wait.”

Your heart stopped. Slowly, you turned around, only to see San cocking his head in the direction of where he was going - the kitchen. “You can work later,” he said. ”Follow me.” 

You raised a brow, but followed him to the kitchen, anyway. San was already grabbing another pot from the cabinets along with the bag of rice you had just used to make him what you also assumed was a horrible batch of rice. “Here,” he said, calm and firm, handing you a pot and a small cup the size of your palm. “You’re going to need them.”

You frowned, glancing at the pot and cup on your hands. “F-For what?”

“I’m going to teach you how to make rice properly,” he murmured. He pointed at the items in your hand. “Scoop two cups of the rice in the pot. Make sure the cup isn’t overflowing.”

You blinked, not sure if you heard him correctly. San didn’t speak, but you could feel his eyes on you, steady and sharp as he waited for you to do something. Your skin began to prickle, the intimacy and closeness you two had as you both stood in front of your sink suddenly dawning on you. Still, you did as told, carefully scooping two cups just like he said. 

“Good. Now we rinse,” he commanded in a low tone, turning the faucet on, rolling his sleeves up his arms. You tried not to stare. “Repeat what I do,” he continued, dipping a hand in the rice and giving it a good mix. “You need to wash it like this thoroughly, yeah? Let me see you do it.”

He wasn’t asking you, he was telling you. You could feel the way San’s eyes were locked onto your every move. There was a skip in your heartbeat when he grunted in approval, grabbing the pot from you to drain the water and put clean water, telling you under his breath that he’ll teach you that one next time.

Next time. There will be a next time and your traitorous brain starts to light up with the thought. He stood up straight, looking at you briefly. His gaze was firm, but there was a softness there too. "You’ll wait for it to boil, then lower the heat. You’ll know it when you see it. And don’t open the lid, let the steam cook it."

The quiet, patient way San explained made it feel less embarrassing. You found yourself paying attention. “H-How am I doing, though?” You asked in shame, refusing to look him in the eye, as you waited for the rice to boil.

You weren’t expecting an answer from him, even though in the back of your head you were already trying to live up to that silent expectation, but he proved you wrong. “Fine,” he answered bluntly and directly, but it was more than enough for you.

That night, you were both back in the living room, but this time, sitting on the same couch as a random movie played in the background, bowls of perfectly cooked rice, topped with fried eggs San also taught you how to make, clutched in your hands. “This is good,” you murmured, breaking the silence with a sincere compliment. “I could get used to this. It’s really nice.”

There was a pause when San looked at you briefly and you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch in amusement before he went back to watching the movie. “Don’t,” he grumbled. “I’m not your babysitter.”

You ignored him, still focused on his lips. The way it almost curved upwards was so subtle, but it was enough to make your heart skip another beat as San went back to eating. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d ever seen from him, and it felt like a small victory.

For the next three days or so, you cooked more rice and each day, San’s expression became softer the entire time you screamed in glee as if you had just invented something great. You had started looking forward to his reactions and his approval and that made you happier than making the rice successfully.

Not long after, you would be needing San’s assistance once more. You wanted to shower before you did. You couldn’t, though, because the lights kept flickering on and off. You had no choice but to knock tentatively on San’s door, not realising you were only wrapped in a towel.

He raised a sharp brow at your intrusion, body language on guard just in case you were just knocking to bother him. “I need to use your shower,” you explained, not looking him in the eye. “There’s something wrong with my lights. I-I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Without a word, he slipped past you and walked towards your room to check out said bathroom, his movement smooth and precise as you tailed behind him. You stood behind him awkwardly because you could already see the lights flickering before he even got near the bathroom. He glanced up and the faintest hint of a sigh escaped him. "I’ll handle it," he said, already stepping on the chair he just grabbed to inspect the broken lightbulb. “Open the sink cabinet here. There should be a spare lightbulb.”

You crouched down, tugging your towel tighter as you reached inside. The cabinet was surprisingly stocked. “You know how to do this too?” You asked, handing him the bulb.

“I do, but I’m not gonna be the one doing it,” he said flatly, taking a small step back to make space on the chair. “You will. Get up here, I’ll walk you through it step by step. Just be careful.”

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of how little you were wearing. Still, you climbed onto the chair beside him, careful not to brush against him. Your bare thigh grazed his pants and his eyes dropped before he looked away, jaw tightening. The air between you thickened, heavy with unspoken tension. “I like how you trust me not to burn the house down,” you said, trying to keep your voice light.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, motioning to the broken lightbulb above you. “Grab the bulb and twist it until it gives out. Don’t rush.”

You did as told, taking note of how calm and reassuring his voice was, though a little tight. He hums and nods when you show him the lightbulb you took out. “Good. Now put the new one in, but be careful, try to grab it from here…”

You momentarily stop breathing when he grabs your trembling hand, carefully placing it on the base of the bulb. “Screw it in nice and slow,” he said softly, voice a little too close to your ear. You swallowed hard, doing as told as his dark eyes stared at you with intent.

Once the bulb was in, he stepped down and, without warning, his hands found your waist. He lifted you off the chair with ease, his grip gentle, grounding. His hands lingered longer on your waist than they needed to. Then he cleared his throat, stepped back, and flipped the switch. “Not bad,” he murmured. “Now you know how to do it next time.”

“Y-Yeah,” you chuckled, a twinge of heat flickered on your cheeks, wringing your hands nervously as you tried to brush off that tingling sensation spreading through your chest. “I, uh, I’ll go take that shower now, I guess.”

He turned to go, then paused. His gaze dropped again. He stared for a beat too long, his eyes on your thighs for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low and rough. “Yeah, you do that.”

You turned away, barely able to breathe, pretending not to notice how he refused to meet your eyes or the flush creeping up his neck and ears as he walked out.

It was the little things. At least, that’s where it all started. San had started teaching you more - how to cook more meals, unclog a stubborn drain, even how to organize your finances and budget your money - and each time, it chipped away at the distance that had once clearly defined your roles.

San was still the same man who barely said a word, barely looked at you, was stone-cold and impassive, but you listened to every instruction he gave you. You were a fast learner, not because you were trying to impress him, but because you were genuinely thankful for all the knowledge he imparted on you.

“We must learn how to be self-reliant, my lady,” San would say quietly one time he was teaching you to change your car tire. “Especially you. It’s hard to trust people who won’t use you. It’s hard for people to stay. Wrench on the nut, criss-cross to the right as tight as you can.”

“But you will,” you would answer, struggling a bit to tighten the bolts. “Right, San?”

The moments became less about fixing things and more about the quiet space between them -  his steady presence, your growing curiosity, the way you’d lean in to listen without realizing, or how he’d glance your way with a flicker of amusement that was never quite mocking.

You were two people learning how to live in the same space, and the whole situation felt strange, but it always felt important somehow. It wasn’t just about him teaching you all the things he knew, you realized. It was about him giving you his time and his patience.

However, you also noticed that he started pulling back. After that lightbulb incident, he stopped looking you in the eye completely and whenever he would accidentally graze your skin, he would pull away as if he had just touched something extremely hot and got burned. “San,” you called softly. “I know you’re pulling away. You don’t have to protect yourself.” He stared at you, darkness fully embracing his eyes. “I’m not protecting me,” he said darkly, staring as if he could see through you. “I’m protecting you.”

“Where’s your bodyguard? He’s never here when I come or something,” Yeosang murmured absentmindedly, crossing his legs comfortably as he settled on your couch. “You shouldn’t even be alone, what’s the point of Wooyoung stationing him with you 24/7?”

Today was one of those days that Yeosang decided to drop by out of the blue. You were happy, though. Being home with San were some of the best times you’ve ever had. “Leave him be, Yeo. He’s his own person, too,” you sighed. “It’s not like I’m in constant need of protection all the damn time. Tell Wooyoung to give him a raise. Woo’s the Head, he could make it happen.”

Lately, San had been going out a lot. Sometimes, he would leave notes on the table on what time he’d be back because he’d be gone by the time you woke up. He’d be gone for the whole day, and sometimes, he wouldn’t even say anything at all. 

“Still,” your brother shrugged. “It would be nice to chat with him again. I haven’t seen him ever since Dad made me brief him. He was very pleasant to talk to, very knowledgeable and very chatty. I wouldn’t mind dropping by once in a while to see you and talk with him.”

You raised both of your brows in mild surprise? San? The knowledgeable part, you didn’t doubt, but pleasant and chatty? Impossible. “That can’t be,” you chuckled. “You sure we’re talking about the same person here? My bodyguard?”

“He’s a professional, Y/N. You can’t expect him to be cozy with you,” he scoffed, louder again when you avoided eye contact. “My God, you’re trying to charm him? Whatever. Anyway, I have to talk to you…it’s about our stocks again.” And that’s how you found out that your stocks had lowered again because somehow, the Songs had revised their investment plans for the year. “I don’t understand,” you gritted your teeth, rubbing your temples in frustration. “We just revised ours too, Yunho’s draft was foolproof. How are they doing this?”

The market was tanking and some investors were already thinking of pulling out. You were thankful because Seonghwa was helping out and his sway was immense because the Parks were very influential. “Someone has to be leaking information from our side. A spy. Or their new bastard Song Mingi is just that good. Listen, Y/N,” Yeosang sighed stressfully. “I-I know you don’t want anything to do with the company, but you’re damn good at what you do. We need you.”

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. You weren’t going to tell him that San was a lovely distraction. The time you had spent with San has been the most worthwhile thing you’ve done in all your life, and a selfish part of you didn’t want even your brother to know. You wanted to keep whatever memory San was giving you to yourself.

“Yunho told me you haven’t even started working with him online,” he continued. “There’s not much to do, I promise you. Once it’s set, you can instruct Jongho to do whatever. Dad still wants to talk to him, by the way.”

You exhaled sharply, mentally cursing. You had totally forgotten about this Jongho guy. “Alright. I’ll talk to San when he comes back.”

“You really have a weird kink going on with your bodyguard,” Yeosang’s lips pulled into a deep frown as he stood up and walked to your door to leave. “Anyway, I have to go. Call me often, please. I’m still worried about you and Seonghwa has been hounding me to visit you too.”

You were still left sitting on your couch after Yeosang left, spacing out as vivid thoughts of what he was insinuating went through your mind. A wild blush stains your cheeks, heat seeping from your pores at the notion of what kinky might entail. With San, nonetheless.

“Are you sick?”

You were still tangled in your thoughts, startled to see San standing by the door, his arms crossed, eyes scanning your reddening face and neck with a precision only known to a man of his profession. “You’re red as a tomato,” he said flatly. “Feeling unwell, my lady?”

A small smile plays on your face. You haven’t messed with him in a while and you were starting to miss your favourite game. “O-Oh, I think I am,” you sighed dramatically, coughing for effect, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. “I do feel a little dizzy…”

You upped your theatrics, laying down on the couch and exhaled exaggerated breaths. “Won’t you come and give me some tender loving care, San? I heard it works better than meds.”

He scoffed, that signature deadpan expression making your heart flutter. “Right,” he said blankly, unimpressed and annoyed. “What really happened?”

You pouted, rolling your eyes. “Yeosang came by. Told me I have to work to find this Jongho guy again,” you whined. “I don’t want to work, but I guess I have to.”

San raised a brow, his entire body tensing. His jaw tensed to a point that your brows twitched in interest. You thought it was certainly an odd reaction. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he murmured, voice on edge, avoiding eye contact.

“Ah, but I have to,” you breathed out wistfully, frowning immediately afterwards. “What’s up with you? You’ve been acting so strange lately. You sure you’re not sick?” 

His eyes flicked back to you, and the tension in his shoulders eased just a little. “Nothing. Just wondering why your dad wants you to work online so much.”

You shrugged. “Probably because last time was a mess. I mean I didn’t even get the chance to meet this Jongho who seems to be a director or something seeing as my Dad always looks for him. And I still don’t know what he even looks like. Point is, I have to work today.”

“Right,” he said, voice unreadable. Suddenly, he was walking towards the kitchen counter where your car keys were laid and he reached for them. “Well, too bad.”

Your interest peaked and just like that, you jolted up from the couch, not even bothering to continue with the sick act. “What are you doing?”

He dangled them in front of you like bait. “I’m going to teach you how to drive properly,” he murmured, walking back towards the door before tilting his head slightly. “Come on. You need a distraction.”

“Why?” You asked, teasing him just so you could ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “It’s like you’re always distracting me when I have to work. Does my stone-cold bodyguard feel bad for me, after all?”

He scoffed, but for a second, something flickered in his gaze, something almost regretful. “Maybe,” was all he said before he walked out. 

The silence that followed felt heavier than usual, like the room itself was waiting for you to make a decision. You knew you had to work, but your heart was pulling in a different direction. You were moving before you knew it, grabbing your jacket and slipping on your shoes, ignoring the unwanted responsibilities your family had put on your shoulders.

“I thought you had work,” he said when he saw you approach him just as he was about to enter the car, his expression softening like he wasn’t expecting you to come.

“I do,” you replied with a smile.. “But I’m going with you.”

I’d rather be with you. He didn’t argue. Just opened the door and let you through, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than usual, and just like that, you were driving off, San’s quiet instructions filling the air. “Brake,” he said calmly. And you did, except you did it too hard. “A little slower,” he gritted, a vein popping from his temple. “Less talking, more driving, please. Don’t kill us.”

“Does my voice make your heart race?” You smirked, but doing as he says the moment you hit the red light, a little voice in your head celebrating when San nodded in approval.

“No,” he grumbled anyway. “But it does make me consider early retirement. Turn over there and be very careful when accelerating.”

But you lurched the car again. You expect him to snap, but no. “Again,” he said. There was no frustration, just quiet persistence. You realize, then, that he’s not just teaching you to drive - he’s teaching you discipline. “Relax, you control the car, not the other way around.”

Suddenly, his hand reaches over, his steady fingers adjusting yours on the wheel. The air shifts, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of every inch between you. “Y-You know,” you started, trying to distract yourself. “I do enjoy this. I don’t know how you handle this so calmly, though.”

San hummed, letting go of your fingers as if he caught himself doing what he wasn’t supposed to do. He gritted his teeth, fisting his palms. “Practice. Underneath all that brattiness, you’re a fast learner so it’s not too bad.”

You grinned from the unexpected compliment even though his avoidance stung a bit. “You’re very patient with me. I will admit, I was expecting you to lose your cool. I’m not the easiest person to teach.”

He doesn’t respond, but if you looked closely, you could swear that there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. All of a sudden, he tells you to stop and you realise that you were atop a hill that overlooked the entire city. It was how you found yourself sitting on the hood of your car with San. “It’s funny how we ended up here,” your voice tilted on an edge where you both knew you weren’t talking about location. “You, the cold bodyguard, and me with zero driving skills and zero redeeming qualities.”

San looks out the view, exhaling a soft breath that was meant to be a scoff but came out as something close to amusement. “You’re not entirely insufferable,” he said.

Your eyes widened, joy crossing your features as you turned to him. “That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You expect the usual deadpan reply, or nothing at all, but instead, he turns his head slightly, and you catch him smiling. You faltered, your heart dropping to your foot. It wasn’t a smirk nor was it an illusion, it was a real smile. It softens him in a way you didn’t think possible, like his walls cracked for a second and let the light in.

He was stunning. More stunning than the setting sun in front of you. And it hits you that you’ve never, ever seen San smile before. He looked away, but the smile lingered. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, making you realise that you said that out loud.

But you already were, because you know that smile is there. And you want to see it again. You mustered up a soft, gentle smile of your own. “You know,” you began, bumping your shoulder slightly with him, ignoring the sparks that followed. “You don’t have to be so serious all the time. It’s really nice when you’re not.”

An unexpected gust of wind blows towards your direction. You shiver, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself even with your jacket on. Had you known it was suddenly going to be this cold, you would have brought a thicker jacket with you. But without a word, San shrugs his jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. It was enough to make heat rise from your chest, but even that wasn’t enough to curb the coldness of the wind. “Still cold?” San asked softly, his breath fogging up as he spoke.

You nodded absentmindedly. Just when you thought that your heart couldn’t beat any faster, San scoots closer to you until the space between you shrunk as his sides pressed onto yours. The shared warmth was immediate, and without hesitation, you took San’s jacket off, gently wrapping it around the both of you.

It doesn’t even register to you what you’ve done until you feel San stiffen against you and your heart flips in your chests. Your insides felt like it was blooming yet folding in on itself at the same time. “I hope this is okay,” you murmured. “I didn’t want you to be cold, too.”

You scooted even closer, your head leaning on his shoulder now and you felt him stiffen again so tensely that you also felt it when he stopped breathing, like he was weighing something in his mind. You get it, at the end of the day, he was still your bodyguard, after all, and there are some lines that should not be crossed.

But, in the end, he gives in. His body relaxes, he doesn’t pull away, and he adjusts his shoulders so your head is completely leaning on the crook of his neck to let you rest and share his warmth as if he’s decided that for now, this was alright. Your heart pounds immediately. It wasn’t just the unexpected closeness, it was San letting you in. Your stomach twists, not with nerves, but with something deeper. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. “You’re warm,” you murmured.

He hummed, not responding right away, just letting the wind carry your voice far away. You felt the subtle change in his posture, his back slouching slightly to accommodate you. “I come here a lot when I want to be alone,” he finally said. “When I’m not with you.”

You swallowed the emotions climbing up your throat at his word choices, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “Do you? What do you think about?”

He hesitated. “Everything.”

You don’t know what you were doing here, and with San of all people. You had no idea why you chose to go with him instead of doing what you were supposed to do, but it just felt right. Like this moment was meant for the two of you and the sky above was the only witness to the wire-thin connection that you were slowly forming with San. You didn’t want it to end. Praying was beyond you, but if there was one thing you found yourself wanting from a God that you never believed in, was for this moment to last a lifetime. You don’t say anything, just letting your head fall back to his shoulder, this time with more certainty, and he lets it happen.

And when his head tilts slightly, just enough that it brushes yours, you know. You wanted to know more about San, more about the bodyguard you never wanted in the first place. This stoic but patient man who’s taken every bullshit you’ve given him and returned it by teaching you and staying by your side through it all. You wanted to know it all. However, when you tried to open your mouth to talk about him just to keep this conversation going, you realised with a pang of guilt that you barely knew anything about him. You knew surface level information, but nothing beyond that. You faltered, numbness spreading through your arms at the realisation. You wanted to choke, how could you?

Because for all the times you flirted with him just to see if you could get under his skin, he kept you at arm’s length. More so because of restraint. You annoyed him, and threw weird requests at him for fun, and he always did them. Because no matter how ridiculous, how inconvenient and how irrational you were being, San never denied you. Not once.

And yet, here he is. Sitting beside you. Letting you lean on him. Letting his head brush yours. You rack your brain for something, anything,  and then you remember - the black belt. You still remember the day you made fun of him for it. You turn your head slightly, voice softer than it’s ever been with him. “You have a black belt, right?”

San tenses. It’s subtle, but you feel it in the way his shoulder stiffens beneath your cheek. His jaw tightens, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Third degree. My father sent me for training,” he mutters, voice low and clipped. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious,” you answered, opting to tell him half of the truth. And then, almost without thinking, you ask, “How old are you?”

It was such a stupid question, one you should have asked a long time ago if you weren’t so busy teasing him or being flirty and reckless. San turns his head slightly, eyes meeting yours, mild surprise shining through his lashes. “Thirty-two.”

You nod, swallowing the ache in your throat. You never even knew he was seven years older than you. You hold his stare for a while. The amber edge of his irises flickers like candlelight about to go out, the storm in them telling you all the things he refused to say out loud. “What’s your favourite color?” You asked next, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, his pupils contracting as he faltered, all the while the light in his eyes seemed to burn brighter by the second and your heart just hurt. Nobody has ever asked him questions like these and it hurts even more to know that it took you this long to ask. “Purple,” he said after a pause, his eyes searching for yours. “The darker one. Like wisdom unseen.”

You hummed, sadness swirling inside you. Somehow, that hurt you more than ever. It was beautiful. It was lonely. “When’s your birthday?”

San’s lips twitch on the corners ever so slightly. Your pupils widened slightly and somehow, the sight of it made San’s lips stretch even wider, his cheeks plumping ever so slightly, the dimples you didn’t know existed popping out. “It’s passed,” he said. “But it’s July 10, if you must know.”

Before you could think about it, your trembling fingers were touching his dimple. San stilled, not sure of how he should react, but his lashes dropped, his head tilted just slightly into your touch, almost involuntarily, like he couldn’t help himself, his dimple deepened beneath your fingertip as he smiled more. It felt warm and impossibly real. “Has anyone sung to you during your birthdays?” You asked, voice threatening to crumble under his stare.

“No,” he didn’t hesitate to answer.

Surprisingly, that did not shock you. You could feel it, the melancholy he exuded. “Any siblings?”

He avoided eye contact as he held his breath. “One. A younger brother,” he answered stiffly. A touchy topic, you figured. You didn’t elaborate. “Favourite food? Mine’s sushi.”

“I know,” he replied softly. You don’t know why that hit you hard. Maybe it was the way that your entire hand was now cradling his cheek. “Ramen’s a comfort food for me. Extra spicy.”

You exhaled through your nose, almost amused. “Of course it is,” you chuckled, your thumb caressing his jawline. “Do you dream when you sleep?”

San’s eyes flicker again, the light dimming to a point that you wanted to swim in them to find them again. “Not really,” he whispered. “I mostly have memories.”

You nod, your throat tightening. The more questions you asked, the harder it was to not let the hurt get to you. You wanted to ask him what kind of memories he had, but not yet. “Do you ever feel anything when I talk to you like this?”

San turns to you, and for the first time, there’s something raw in his gaze. “Yes. Regret,” he said. “Mostly professional. Personal? Yes, I do. I feel so much.”

The words settled like a weight in your chest, heavier than you expected. You weren’t ready. God, you weren’t ready for that level of honesty. You weren’t sure if you ever will be. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t. You leaned back on his shoulder, this time, your forehead leaning on him, his arm wrapping on your waist and pulling you even closer.

As luck would have it, you actually developed a fever the next morning. A real one this time. At first, you didn’t realise it, but when you started feeling like you were going to vomit every time you blinked or when the world started to spin, you already knew. You reckoned that it might have been the cold bite of the wind that kept hitting your skin. The memory was still fresh on your mind, San’s gentle hands raw against your clothed body. If that was the reason for your fever, then it was worth burning your entire soul for. 

You didn’t even hear your bedroom door creak open, didn’t hear San shut it gently behind him as he stood there just staring at you. You only realised you weren’t alone when he walked over and placed a tender hand on your forehead, the cooling sensation making you groan. “Water,” you croaked, forcing yourself to sit up and help yourself.

But a glass was already in front of your lips before you even opened your eyes. “Easy,” San whispered quietly, tilting the glass carefully up your lips as you greedily gulped every drop he was offering you to quench your drying throat.

“You’re burning up,” he said, more to himself than you, placing the glass down your bedside table to cover you with your blanket as you laid back down on the bed with much difficulty. His expression was unreadable, but his presence had made your heart twist anyway.

You reached out, your fingers lightly brushing his wrist through your half-lidded eyes. “And yet you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” San asked, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, tenderly tucking you under the blanket, making sure you were at your best comfort before he also adjusted your pillow so your neck wouldn’t be stiff when you woke up.

And when you did, you felt the fresh towel on your forehead, the cold compress that you knew had been changed more than once given how soothing it felt on your skin. The most damning thing of all, however, was the plate of your favourite French macarons on your bedside, waiting until you woke up and saw them. Your eyes stung - whether it was from the fever or the sight of the desserts, you didn’t know - and you raised your trembling hands to touch them, the pads of your fingers lightly grazing them, but not picking them up, opting to touch the damp towel on your forehead to remove it.

“Leave that on. I just put it there a couple of minutes ago.”

You turned your head and there he was, seated in the armchair with his arms crossed. He had ditched the jacket he always wore and was now left in a tight-fitting shirt that had his arms out on display. All you saw was him and how he drove to your favourite bakery to get you macarons. “It’s a bit warm to the touch, though,” you murmured, your soft voice almost inaudible.

That prompted him to get up and sit on your bed beside you once again. He clicked his tongue when he realised that you were right, gently taking off the towel, tenderly blowing on your forehead so the change in temperature wouldn’t make your head spin. Your chest could have caved in. He might as well dig his fist in your ribs and you wouldn’t feel a thing. He reached for the thermometer, brushing your hair away from your face. “I need to check, please open up,” he requested in the softest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

You did. You wanted to laugh at the way his jaw tensed, but you couldn’t. And when his shoulders relaxed for the slightest bit as he took the thermometer out, your throat wanted to constrict on itself. “Fever’s not completely gone, but better than earlier,” was all he said.

You were a mess of sweat and exhaustion, the words not completely registering in your head. “You should rest,” you urged. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

He doesn’t say a word, turning around to grab the armchair he was sitting at earlier to drag it closer to your bed before plumping down on it. “I am,” he said.

And he didn’t leave. You let him do whatever he wanted. San was here; he was quiet, steady, and unwavering, and somehow, that was all you needed at the moment. He sat in the chair all night, doing something on his laptop as you tried to sleep, but every time you moved or shifted, he would adjust the blankets so you’d stay warm.

In your haze, sometimes you’d feel his hand caressing your head, his thumb soothing the lines on your forehead as you whimpered pitifully. The only time he let go was when he had to coax you to drink your medicine. At some point in the night, your eyes fluttered open. Your subconscious searched for San. He was still on the same chair, however, his laptop was shut, and his eyes were trained on you.

He was watching you with such affection, you didn’t know what to do. His elbows rested on his knees, his gaze steady on your face like he was counting your breaths. When he saw that you were awake, he spoke, low, gruff, and laced with tiredness. “Sleep.”

Your throat burned, and something in his voice made you go quiet for a while. Finally, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because, just like you,” you began to speak, sitting up, using a pillow to prop yourself up. “I have dreams that are more memories than anything else.”

San doesn’t say anything at first, just staring at you intently, waiting to see if you were going to say something else. “What kind of memories does someone like you have?” He asked.

You tilted your head. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He exhales lightly through his nose, an amused sound coming out from the back of his throat. “You’re different,” he said. “I need to know what someone as exhausting but sophisticated, and outspoken but caring as you envisions in their head when everyone else is asleep.”

Need. It wasn’t a word he used often - not in reference to himself and certainly not in reference to you. For a second, you forgot about the fever. “Well, would you believe that this exhausting and outspoken girl has been lonely and insecure her entire life?”

That seemed to silence him, only raising his brow as he mouthed a small ‘oh?’ in interest. Of course, you weren’t going to let that pass. “Got you curious, huh?” You teased. “Thought you found me exhausting?”

“I do,” he said, not missing a beat. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know more about you.”

Your chest tightened. Maybe it was the dim lights of the lamp embracing the both of you, but you suddenly found yourself talking. They were things you never liked talking about, but you let them out at this very moment, anyway.

“I’m lonely, San,” you admitted quietly. “It may not seem like it since I try to hide it by being a nuisance with a loud mouth sometimes. These dreams…memories, they’re echoes of what I want for myself. I want to travel, to see the world in its entirety. I want to eat food without looking over my shoulder to see if someone’s going to criticise me for being unlady-like. I want to do things without thinking of the consequences.”

You didn’t know how else to put it. Didn’t know how to tell him that he was the one and only thing you orbited around that had your life revolving on its axis. That he was the one and only thing inadvertently keeping you going. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, watching you like you were something fragile. “Tell me more.”

You met his eyes finally, your fingers subconsciously tightening their hold onto your blanket like it was the thing that kept your sanity around San intact. “You really want to know?”

His subtle nod was all you needed before letting go. “Okay,” you said, voice softer now. “I am the heiress set to inherit the Kang Corporation. Now that in itself isn’t the problem. It’s what’s tied to it that’s got me feeling the way I do.”

He waited. You paused to take a breath. “It’s my father’s expectations, the board, the title. Everything. People looked at me and saw value, usefulness. That, I don’t mind. I like being useful. I craved it. I was worshipped and I reveled and soaked every second of it.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “But that was all I was, someone to admire. Without approval, I’m no one. After years on a pedestal, being ignored feels unbearable. And trying to stay up there? It drained me. You feel me?”

You looked at him pointedly. He didn’t say a word, but you could see it in his eyes that he knew exactly what you were trying to tell him. You took his hand in yours, squeezing it slightly. You hoped the message was clear in your eyes as you stared directly onto his dark ones - having you here with me is a relief. You were my reprieve. Thank you for being you.

“I have nothing,” you continued, letting his hand go. You ignored the slight twitch on his fingers as you did so. “But I’d rather be nothing than to inherit the company. How am I supposed to lead an entire corporation if I can’t function without constant validation? The anxiety and feeling that every decision I make might be the wrong one kills me on the inside. I can’t do it.”

“I don’t want to lose myself,” you said. “My mother did. She started the company after all, not my father. It totally consumed her until she passed. She, too, needed validation. Problem is, she received too much and keeping up ate her alive. The pressure was unbearable.”

San didn’t say anything, he just let you talk, but you saw the genuine surprise on his face. If it was any other situation, you would have gloated because San was usually expressionless, but not this time. “I’m a joke pretending to be someone—”

“Stop that,” he cut off. All you could do was blink, surprised by the steely edge of his voice. “Stop talking about yourself like you have no other value when you’re so much more than that.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that he didn’t get it, but the look he gave you shut you up. “You’re not nothing,” he said. “You are L/N Y/N and nothing can ever take that away from you, you understand me? You’re under pressure, and that’s okay. It makes you human.”

San’s hand brushed your hair away from your face while his other hand wiped a lone tear from your eye that you didn’t even notice had fallen. The ache in your chest wasn’t pain, it’s because for the first time, San was really looking at you. Not the version you projected, but the you that got forgotten even by yourself. You leaned into his touch, letting him guide you back down as exhaustion took hold. When he stood, you braced for him to leave. But he didn’t. Instead, he took off his watch, turned off the lamp, and quietly lay beside you.

And just like that, the world was at peace. He didn’t touch you, just stayed still on his back,  eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held the answer to some unspoken question. You didn’t ask him why, but you didn’t need to. You turned your head to look at him. “May I?”

He turned his head as well, not understanding what you were asking him until you scooted your body closer to him, and he hummed in approval. You wrapped your arm around his broad chest and San hesitated at first, but he put a careful hand on top of your arm anyway. “A flower needs both the sun and the rain to grow,” he whispered in the dark, the deep timbre of his voice soothing you. “It’s okay to feel every bit of pain.”

You nod against his chest, grateful that someone understands without trying to fix it. “Thanks for staying. I don’t know what I’d do without you, really.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmurs, voice low and wary. “You might be making a mistake.”

“Am I?” You counteracted. “Is it because you’re here with me, sharing a bed? Or is it because we’ve crossed a line we can’t undo anymore?”

He doesn’t say anything, but you could feel it; you could feel all the things he refused to say out loud threatening to burst out the seams. You could feel him holding you tighter; tighter than what you would’ve deemed normal.

Something had changed. It wasn’t loud or pronounced, but you could feel it in the air even though the both of you didn’t acknowledge it. San still restrained himself and refused to let go of what was holding him back from being with you, but the edges of his stoicism were softer now.

“Morning,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how unfairly attractive San was as he exercised on your balcony at six in the morning. He raised a brow at your sudden interruption. “I made you coffee,” you held the steaming mug up. “Black. Matches how dark your personality is.”

He rolled his eyes so far back up his head, you thought it was about to get stuck there. “I appreciate the effort,” he said flatly, taking the mug. “Skip the commentary and just hand it over next time, please.”

You laughed, soft and genuine. “God, you’re such a party pooper,” you shook your head, leaning over the railing, staring at the rising sun overhead. ”You know, sharing coffee this early is pretty much dating in this day and age.”

You could feel him move behind you, closing the distance as you felt his chest connect with your back, his arms trapping you in place that made your heart beat faster inside your chest. “It’s just caffeine,” San deadpanned. “Perhaps you’ve had too much and it’s made you delusional.”

You scoffed lightly as a reply to cover the blush on your cheeks at the feeling of his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. Whatever this was you were feeling, you just lie to yourself a little, denying the growing softness that has taken root in your chest whenever he’s near. Most of the time, the both of you barely talked. There were times where you and San just sat, watching the city below, and if one of you ended up in each other’s arms for some reason, none of you said anything. But the both of you never moved either.

“Red kinda suits me, don’t you think?” You smirked, strutting on purpose to show off the new tracksuit you’ve ordered to annoy him. “It’s the colour of, you know, desire.”

“It’s also the colour of warning signs,” he shot back, an irritated vein popping on his temple, as he closed the journal he always wrote on. He looked you up and down with a frown, his arms crossed. “Fitting for you. Where are you going?”

“Gym in the main lobby. Haven’t worked out in months, really,” you sheepishly said, rubbing the back of your neck. He doesn’t reply, and you take that as a sign to go. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I won’t leave the building, I promise.”

The relentless, sarcastic back-and-forth that had defined your unusual relationship from the start had remained constant. You didn’t want it any other way, and at this point, you were loving his reactions even more. You weren’t out to get him anymore. You just genuinely loved teasing him and your need for his validation was something that was way past you. “Wait,” he stopped you.

You froze, half way out the door, your hand still holding the doorknob. San walks towards you and you thought that he was going to stop you from going out, but then, he suddenly kneels. “What—”

“Don’t want you falling flat on your face, do we?” San grumbled, tying your shoelaces for you gently like he was getting paid to do it. You blushed for two reasons - embarrassment because you actually did forget to tie them, and the gesture itself. 

“T-Thanks,” you muttered, feeling warmth rise up to your ears, though your heart was telling you to say more. 

He cleared his throat, taking an awkward step back, as if the act itself had surprised him. “Call me if something happens. Call me when you’re done. Call me when you get there.”

You blinked. “O-Okay? San, it’s literally a five minute walk from here.”

“I mean it,” he said, impatient as ever, his hand now on your arm, squeezing it lightly to make a point. “I’m marching there if I don’t see you back here in an hour.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a mock salute. “Sir, yes, Sir. I’ll remember, Sir.”

His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. “You’re crazy,” he said, eyes darkening with that mix of amusement and something else, something softer than usual.

That was the other thing. San smiled a little more, or at least, in a way that someone of a few words who is also very stoic and cold could. It wasn’t very often, and it wasn’t done to please you, but it was enough to remind you that it was possible; that at some point in his life, there was a time that San probably smiled a little more carefree. 

You found yourself laughing more, too, as though some weight you had carried without realizing had begun to lift. You spent more time together, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You both did and those moments just made you feel so alive. You didn’t know where to start. Was it when he started holding your hand more? Was it when he started to slowly let go of what was holding him back? Or was it when you both slept in the same bed every night? Perhaps it was his soft lullaby to soothe your nightmares. Maybe it was all the times he hugged you from behind as he took a nap on the couch.

“You know, if you dropped this brooding, macho man persona, you’d be a little less suffocating to be around with,” you remarked one evening out of the blue.

“I see,” he drawled, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched you put your leg on top of his, scooting closer to him on the couch. Amusement danced in his eyes, his hand impulsively tucking your hair behind your ear. “So suffocating.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you shrugged, lacing your hand in his. You teased him sometimes, just enough to see the faintest smile on his lips, and though he sighed at you, he never let go of your hand. It’s just the cold, you thought while pretending the warmth between your hands isn’t doing anything to your mind.

You catch yourself watching him more than you think you should. He stopped frowning whenever he wrote in his journal, letting you sit beside him without a single word of complaint. You find excuses to linger near him and you find yourself hoping, in ways you wouldn’t admit, to linger just a little longer.

You both liked watching the storm. “No matter how many times I lie wide awake to the sound of this poison rain, it’s very soothing,” he explained in that patience you’ve come to adore him for while the both of you were staring out the window to watch  the torrential downfall of the rain.

You hummed in agreement, reaching for his hand without looking. San lets you take it. “Do you ever wish you weren’t assigned to me as my bodyguard?”

He squeezes your hand. “Not once.”

Something in your chest aches. “You’re not supposed to be this tender.”

Still, he doesn’t move away. Persistence crawls into you. “You’re breaking your own rules, San,” you spoke quietly as if doing otherwise would ruin the moment forever.

His gaze flicked to you, his eyes reflecting the thunderstorm amidst the chaos brewing in them. “You make it impossible not to,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “I can’t help it.”

You didn’t smile, didn’t tease. Not this time. He leaned in, forehead against your temple, and you felt it - his responsibility towards you that he couldn’t ignore. But for now, with the storm outside, San stopped pretending that distance was still a viable option. Because despite the way he chose to be warm and present for you, he was always holding something back. It wasn’t all that hard to see. Every time he brushed his hand with yours, he would pull away like he touched fire. The way he would pull you close, yet still feel rigid.

And you realized that it wasn’t disinterest. It was restraint and professionalism. He was your bodyguard, but more than that, he was careful not to let the closeness tip over into something forbidden. He was disciplined enough not to let things get too far to the point of no return. Even now as his forehead leaned against your head, his hands wrapped around your waist, he never crossed that line. He would never let whatever this was between you disrupt the role he had chosen to take in your life. It was only acceptable if he was the one initiating it.

Maybe that was why you couldn’t decide what you felt for him even though you were more than sure what it was. You wanted to chase and lose yourself in the comfort he was giving you, but you knew better. San would always hold himself back, for both your sakes, and that you had to respect it even if your heart didn’t.

It was hard not to think about him all the time, and your eyes had a harder time leaving his form in whatever he chose to do. San would make it a point to eat his meals with you, but right now, it was difficult because you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You swallowed, heart thudding against your ribs, and the words slipped out before you could stop them. “Sannie…”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said it. San froze, fork mid-air. “You,” he rasped, trying to locate the line between being professional and personal. “Don’t.”

You laughed softly, trying to sound nonchalant even though you might as well keel over, hurt at the distance he was putting. He looked away, jaw tightening ever so slightly, as though he was wrestling with something unspoken. “I’m still your bodyguard,” he said, clipped, careful. “Don’t forget that. Don’t let it mean anything more.”

You stood slowly, walking around the table, sighing when he tried to push you away, but  before you could fully walk away, he pulled you closer, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you actually walking away from him. “Don’t,” was all he said, painfully so, as he pulled you onto his lap.

Something in your chest explodes. Hurt covers your features when he grabs the back of your head, gently pushing it down until your face is in the crook of his neck. “You’re pushing boundaries,” he muttered, voice low, almost a growl, but he stayed. He stayed.

You closed your eyes and just let him finally allow himself to stroke your hair. “Am I?”

“I’m still your bodyguard,” he exhaled, but there was a softness in the edges of his voice now, an acknowledgment of something unspoken.

You were about to pull away to look at him, but he didn't let you. He pushes your head down on his neck again, feeling his breath hitch when your lips accidentally touch the sensitive skin. “I’m still your bodyguard,” he repeated, voice low and clipped.

“I know, San,” you sighed, your fingers gripping on his shoulders, refusing to let the hurt get to you, hoping that this quiet surrender would be enough to breach the walls he built around himself. “I heard you for the first time.“ Your breath got caught in your throat when he pushed your head down even harder on his neck, almost feeling the veins thud in rhythm to the increasing beating of his heart. “No, Y/N. You don’t understand,” he swallowed, surprising you with how sorrowful and regretful it sounded. “I’m still your bodyguard.”

You froze, finally understanding what he was trying to say all along. The crack in his voice betrayed the fact that he couldn’t let himself reach for you the way he might want to. The unspoken longing in the way he desperately stroked your hair solidified every aspect of how San, a bodyguard, cannot be with you simply because of your different statuses in life.

You swallowed, heart thudding painfully, realizing what it meant: the closeness, the warmth, the touches, the moments that felt like confessions, none of it could go further - not while he was on your father’s payroll and remained as your protector. You pulled away, a melancholic smile tugging at your lips. “It’s alright,” you said, lightly brushing your hands on his cheeks. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll figure it out—”

San’s jaw tightened, pulling your hands away just enough to remind both of you of the boundary he would never cross. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s not that simple. It’s not going to work. The life I lead….we’re not meant to exist on the same path.”

You blinked, heart stuttering in your chest. “What do you mean?” You whispered, a shiver crawling up your spine. You stood up, backing up from him, trying to process his words.

“I mean,” he said, his voice barely above a growl. “Some things cannot be changed and are bigger than feelings. Some things…could destroy everything between us before it even begins.”

Your fingers itched to reach for him, yet you held back, sensing the wall he had built around himself. San’s eyes…there was something wrong. You could feel it. You swallowed, chest tightening at his words, but refused to let despair take over. “Whatever it is, we’ll find a way,” you said softly, voice trembling but defiant. 

San’s jaw tightened further, and he finally looked away, exhaling slowly, the weight of both his duty and whatever secret he carried pressing down on him. “San,” you said slowly. “This…this isn’t about you being a bodyguard, isn’t it?”

His gaze darkened, shadowed by something you couldn’t read. “And what if it isn’t?”

His words cut through the air like ice. You didn’t know what to say because, perhaps, maybe you had always known. The way he pulled away whenever you got too close, the way he never let anything get too far, and the way he ignored you for months whenever you flirted with him. You told yourself it was duty and restraint. You convinced yourself that was all it ever was.

But it wasn’t, was it? You had seen it in his eyes sometimes, that flicker of something heavier, a shadow you mistook for weariness or reluctance. There was something in his voice that unsettled you. There was something deeper, darker lurking in the surface. Sadness, yes, but layered with something you couldn’t pinpoint. And you needed to know what it was. You leaned closer, defiant, unwilling to let him retreat into silence again. “San, what did you do?”

San simply exhaled, a quiet surrender in the weight of his shoulders. “I talked to Wooyoung this morning,” he said, avoiding eye contact, gritting his teeth.

He might as well have punched you square in the gut. “You did,” you deadpanned, at least, tried to. The knot in your throat refused to go down. “You talked to my father’s head security. Why is that? If you’d talked to me first, then I would have told you we could make it work.”

But you knew. Deep down, you knew. San’s eyes flicked up to yours, hard and unreadable. “Don’t kid yourself,” he said bitterly. “No matter how many breaths we’ll take, we still won’t be able to breathe. We—I shouldn’t have let it get this far. You think you like me, but you don’t.”

And somehow, that hurt more than anything else he’s done to you. The sharpness in his tone caught you off guard. “You’re the one who doesn't understand, San,” you tried to explain. “You’re not just my bodyguard, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel seen.”

“Tell me, would you kill to save a life?”

The question lodged in your chest like stone. “What are you—”

“Tell me,” he pressed, stepping forward, close enough that you felt his heat but not his touch. “How far would you go to prove you’re right?”

Your breath hitched, pulse racing. You knew he wasn’t just asking hypotheticals anymore. San was testing you, pulling at threads you didn’t even realize were tangled. “Why are you saying this?” You asked, your voice unsteady but firm.

San’s gaze softened only for a fleeting second, before the shadows reclaimed him. “We’re more different than you think we are, Y/N. You keep talking about making it work, but what if the only way to make it work isn’t what you think it is? What if it costs more than you’re willing to pay?”

Your brows furrowed, irritation creeping up your throat. “You’re talking in circles, San. You make it sound like I’m walking into some kind of trap just by wanting you.”

His jaw clenched, but his voice remained low, careful. “Maybe you are.”

Your pulse spiked, heat curling in your chest. “Maybe you’re right,” you scoffed, irritated. “Maybe we are different. Because I’m trying to chase you while all you’ve done is run away from the light—”

“And I’m trying to run away into the night to save you,” he cut off, voice rough with something almost like regret. “Don’t make this harder than it already is—”

“No, San. You’re wrong,” you seethed. “You’re running away to save yourself. So maybe I won’t kill to save a life, but I would do it to savour life. And I would go through everything not to prove I’m right, but because I know it’d be worth it. So go ahead, pretend that none of this mattered.”

He didn’t answer right away, and that silence was worse than any rejection he could’ve given. It made you want to shake him, to force the truth out of him. Anything but this deliberate distance he kept building between you. Instead, he walks out and you don’t see him for days after that.

The odds were stacked against you from the very beginning, you reckoned. San avoided you in every way possible, and to be honest, you avoided him with equal energy. When you entered a room, you would turn around and pretend he wasn’t there, and when he would come home after being out, he would go straight to his room without even looking at you.

And by God, it hurts. You wished it didn’t because something in your chest cracked. You wish there was something - anything - because at least that would mean that San felt something about you rather than the void and emptiness you’ve trapped yourself in. It wasn’t his silence that was bothering you, it was the fact that it wasn’t troubling to him. He was so nonchalant about it, in fact, that he had submitted his two weeks notice. It hit you like a freight truck that you actually fell for the real him and not just the attractive man you’re infatuated with. Maybe it had always been love that you had tried to push away.

“Wooyoung called this morning,” you brought up out of the blue one night, opting to ask him about it straight rather than let it stew. “He said you’re quitting. I-Is it true?”

His back was turned to you as he leaned over the railing of your balcony. He turns slightly where you could only see his side profile, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Yes,” he said, clipped, before turning back and ignoring you once more.

Your heart squeezed. “I didn’t know you smoked,” you commented.

Smoke rose from his mouth into the night. “I didn’t.“

Just like that, more days stretched longer in silence. You tried your best to be alright with it even though all you saw was red. Red was the colour of love that bled you dry. Or rather, its unrequited state; the breaking of your heart that makes blood rush through your veins in painful bursts to remind you of who you cannot have. And in all the laughter, the lack of it, San’s denial and refusal, you realized that even in the bad times, you have never felt more alive than you did the entire time you were with him. Maybe you had long fallen in love with him. Maybe you fell in love at first sight with Choi San after all. And it would’ve been easier if the both of you stood your ground. Because though he tried to keep his distance, San was still San. You’d find French macarons in the kitchen, even though he wouldn’t admit it was his doing. Whenever you’d struggle with anything, it was him who still helped you efficiently, but never met your eyes. Sometimes you’d look up from a book and catch him watching you from across the room, only for his eyes to dart away, as if he’d been caught stealing something forbidden. Other times, it was you who faltered. Neither of you said a word, but the glances were there. San was a good man. Despite everything, he taught you a lot. Not just how to function normally, but to live in general. He taught you a lot of lessons that you were going to bring for the rest of your life. And now, he would be the one to take everything away like he had the right to.

“Did he say anything?” You spoke in a hushed tone, pacing around your room nervously as you held the phone tightly in your hands against your ear. “Did he say why he was quitting?”

“Not really,” Wooyoung sighed on the other end. “To be fair, that bodyguard of yours never really talked a lot. Made me nervous, really. I’ve never even seen him in person. Always had an excuse to not come to the headquarters. Anyway, we already found a replacement—”

“No,” you halted walking, enunciating the denial a lot more sharply than you intended it to. “I refuse. If it isn’t him, then I don’t want anyone. Tell Dad he can take it up to me if he insists, but I wholeheartedly refuse.”

“I understand,” he placated. Suddenly, he made a humming sound as if he had recalled something. “Come to think of it, he did mumble something odd before he hung up. Said something about handling things correctly. Is something bothering you, my lady?”

You hung up immediately, anger and resentment rising up your throat. You swore that you were going to avoid San, and it should’ve stayed that way, but when he suddenly approached you one night, you couldn’t help but look at him. “Let’s go for a drive,” he said, not waiting for you to reply, turning around to leave through the door, the jangling of the keys growing more and more distant.

So when you ended up in the car together that evening, the tension felt unbearable. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, not bothering to face him. “You’re quitting, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. “I am,” he sighed, sounding like the patient man you’ve come to know him for. “This…might be the last time we spend with one another before I go.”

Your jaw twitched, frustration flickering behind your smile. “Gods, you’re infuriating,” you muttered. “Do you ever drop the act? Or is this all just who you are?”

San didn’t flinch. His gaze remained steady and calm like still water. “I don’t believe it’s an act.”

“So what is this? A pity party? You’re leaving, San,” you said, voice lowering, now threaded with something  sharper. “Am I the reason you’re leaving? Did I do something you didn’t like? Is this it, San? Or is it because I’mI beneath your attention?”

His eyes flickered, but you caught it. “You are not beneath anything. Don’t you dare say that to my face,” he seethed in pure anger, eyes narrowing into slits. “You are dangerous to my sanity, surely you’ve caught on to that?”

You laughed, breathless from disbelief. “Excuse me? Dangerous? When you’re the one leaving me after showing me what it’s like to finally be alive? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

San’s jaw clenched, the only visible sign of discomfort. He didn’t reply anymore, just staring ahead the road  to reel in whatever anger he was feeling. The rest of the drive was uneventful with the sound of the radio quietly playing a song into the darkness. I just died in your arms tonight It must've been something you said I just died in your arms tonight You wanted to scoff. The irony wasn’t lost on you and neither was the way his grip faltered on the wheel as if the lyrics struck closer than he wanted to admit. His hand shot up to increase the volume immediately, the music finally filling in the awkward silence. I keep looking for something I can't get Broken hearts lie all around me And I don't see an easy way to get out of this After a stretch of unbroken silence, San spoke again, voice low, weighted with finality. “There’s one thing I still haven’t taught you.”

He pulled the car into an empty parking lot. He turned off the engine but left the song playing, its words bleeding into the night. Slowly, he stepped out, then opened your door, offering his hand. His lips curved, the smallest ghost of a smile, bitter and fleeting. “Dance with me.”

You felt like you were punched in the gut. Your trembling hands tentatively grabbed his, and there in the middle of nowhere, you let him guide you. His hand rested at your back, steady but stiff, like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will. You tipped your chin up, and for a moment the world shrank down to just the two of you. He looked at you and it was then you saw the hurt sitting heavy in his gaze, buried so deep it made your chest ache. She made it easy, she made it feel right But now it's over, the moment has gone I followed my hands, not my head, I know I was wrong

You’ve never hated a song more than you did now. Tears blurred your vision, but you still managed to laugh, shaky and fragile. “Do you even know how to dance, San?”

His mouth curved faintly, but the sadness never left his eyes. He shook his head once, deliberate. “No.”

He twirled you once, but not before wiping your unshed tears. His hand was steady at your back, his breath warm against your temple. You clutched his shirt tighter as you both swayed to the music. Your cheeks were pressed onto his chest, your tears soaking it while he stroked your hair, slowly swaying you for comfort.

I just died in your arms tonight It must've been some kind of kiss I should've walked away

San didn’t let go. And in that dance, it became unbearably clear - that this hurt him more than it hurt you. It was in the way he held you, in the way his lips repeatedly gave the top of your head soft kisses. All you could do was hold his shirt tighter like it could make him stay. The drive back was quieter than the ride out, the weight of what had just happened lingering in the air. Despite the fact that all of this was just leading to a goodbye, you couldn’t say you wouldn’t cherish this even though this was all you were going to get with San. You followed San in the house, the silence gnawing at you until you couldn’t take it. “Thank you,” you said softly.

He glanced at you, brow furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” you whispered, genuine and truthful. “For teaching me things you didn’t have to. For putting up with me when I made it impossible. For staying as long as you did.”

He grabbed your wrist. “This isn’t about you,” he said, voice low and tight. “It isn’t on you. None of this…it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your heart clenched at the weight in his tone. “Then why doesn’t it feel like it?”

Something sharp and almost painful passed through his eyes. His lips parted, but no words came. You could see it in his face how torn he was between letting himself be selfish or doing what he thought was right. You were going to walk away, but he yanked you back. San was tense, body trembling, and for a second, it looked like he couldn’t take it anymore. You tried to pry yourself away from him. "San, please. Don’t make this harder—”

“I want to give you the world, Y/N,” he cut off, voice bordering on distress. “My world. God, I want to so badly, but I did something. I didn’t want it to happen, and now, I can’t take it back.”

His eyes searched your troubled ones like he was waiting for you to understand without making him say it. “I fucked up,” he hissed, running a frustrated hand over his usually kempt hair. “I thought I could make it work, that what I’m doing was right, but I was so stupid. So stupid.”

You shook your head, unsure whether to feel heartbroken or not. You didn’t even know what he meant. “San, you’re scaring me,” your voice trembled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

"If you knew," he went on, clutching your hand tighter. "You wouldn't be here. And I wouldn't blame you, I-I just can't," San broke off, looking he wanted to say more, but chose to go the other way. "I'm sorry. If I walked away a while back…if there was a version where you’d be uninvolved, I’d do it in a heartbeat—"

“So everything was a lie, then?” You asked, afraid of what he might say. You're not sure what you’re accusing him of, only that something isn’t sitting right. “Was I the lie? Were you?”

His eyes softened, but he didn’t flinch. Somehow, that just made everything much worse. “No,” he whispered. “You were the only good thing I never lied about.”

He said it like a confession, but not one you could actually believe. He was giving you the outline of a story and daring you to colour in the rest. It didn’t feel like comfort. Rather, this was more cruel. He said he never lied about you, but he never confirmed if he lied about himself.

Deep down, you did have an idea. He said it himself - you were a lot smarter than you let on. The way San’s eyes would harden whenever his phone buzzed and how he never answered in front of you. How he’d been leaving every single day and disappearing for hours when he thought you wouldn’t notice. His expression darkening whenever you mentioned either his past or perhaps a secret in the guise of a joke. Maybe you’d always known, but ignored the signs.

“So what else?” You asked, sharper than you liked. “What else did you lie about? What was the reason you never fully smiled around me, San? All the things you taught me, were those lies?”

He shook his head, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red. “I’d teach you a million more things if it meant staying with you for as long as I wanted to. I’ll always come to do more for you if you ask.”

And you could tell he meant it. You nodded, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You had nothing to lose anymore. “You know, I’ve never been kissed properly before.”

San’s composure faltered in genuine shock before he quickly forced his face back to normal. He swallowed hard, voice dropping low when he spoke. “You want me to teach you that?”

Your pulse raced, unafraid of what the night could mean, especially if it was your last. “I don’t know, San. Your kiss might kill me.”

You could see the tightness in his jaw, the strain in his breathing, as he fought some unseen battle in his head. “It might,” he rasped, eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

You leaned in, lining your lips with his. “So won’t you do it so I can die happy?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured hoarsely, his grip on you so tight, his knuckles turned white. You knew you’d bruise. He froze when your lips touched, like he was still trying to stop himself. You whined on his lips, and that was what undid him. San’s lips pressed harder against yours, still controlled, but no longer denying himself. He pulled away slightly to look at you, making sure you still wanted this, his hand cupped your jaw and his mouth back crashed against yours, roughly this time.

You gasped into him, and the sound made him pull you even closer, his hands sliding to your waist. There was no hesitation this time. It was messy and desperate, all the things he’d been holding back breaking loose at once. His teeth grazed your lip, his tongue begging for entrance, and the low sound he made against you left your heart racing dangerously fast.

And when you pulled back to take a breath, he chased your lips like a man starved and depraved. “No, no, no,” he begged, desperate and needy, his entire body shaking, voice cracking in between. “Don’t you dare stop now, please. Not when I’ve waited this long. I–”

The sound that slipped from you when his mouth pressed back even harder against yours shattered everything. His hand traveled up, gently grabbing a handful of your hair while the other didn’t hesitate to palm your ass. You sighed in his mouth and it prompted him to finally drag you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours as you both started stripping. 

Your arms subconsciously tried to cover yourself, but the small growl from behind San’s throat brought shivers up your spine. It made you back up to the bed and by accident, you fell on it. San collapsed on top of you, burying his face on your neck, his breath ragged and laboured. “I need you,” he gasped. “I don’t know if I could go on not knowing what it’s like to have you.”

He planted soft kisses up your jaw, your shoulders, sucking the tender skin there before doing the same to your collarbones. “And I want everyone to know you were mine for tonight,” he growled, rutting his cock onto your core without entering. “Mine.”

His words made your stomach flip. You held onto his shoulders, your nails sinking onto his taut skin. “So touch me,” you begged. “I need you, San. Please.”

His eyes softened, the hesitation clear despite the haze clouding over them, but when he pulled him close, pushing your hips up to meet his, lust won him over. He wanted you, and he didn’t know where to start. Now that you were under him, he wasn’t afraid to take what he needed. “Like this?” San asked, his tongue playing with your nipples.

You moaned in confirmation, your hips rocking up. His hand gently spreads your thighs open to stroke your throbbing clit. “Months, Y/N. Months,” he gritted. “It was so fucking hard to resist you, you know that? You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off in this fucking room every night when you’ve gone to sleep, thinking about this very moment.”

“F-Feels good,” you moaned, and when he slipped a finger inside you, you cried out loud. He held you tighter, the veins on his neck popping out. “San…”

“That’s it,” he panted, his finger hastening their pace. “My good fucking girl. I want to hear you.”

The control he had was slowly slipping away from him and you could see it. He was starting to look more feral and more possessive. It didn’t take long to make you come undone on his fingers. “Good girl,” he murmured, kissing your sweaty forehead, whispering the words over and over again as if you were someone worth worshipping.

He was still careful with you. As if you couldn’t fall harder for him. You pulled him for a kiss, whimpering at the loss of his fingers inside you. “San,” you let out, breathless. “You’re going to ruin me. I-I think you already did.” His breath hitched with need and you felt his hard cock twitch against your sensitive areas. It was like you unlocked something, grabbing his cock against your slit, his other hand grabbing your hair a little tighter. “I ruined you?” His eyes darkened at how you shivered at his touch. “What makes you say that?”

Him teasing you was driving you to your insanity. “Because—Sannie, oh, t-that,” you mewled, getting crossed eyed at the feel of his cockhead flicking your clit over and over again. The grip you had on his toned biceps was like a vice. “S-Stop teasing me, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” The smirk he let out was borderline demonic, his tongue swiping over his upper teeth as he watched you unravel before him. “Go on. Say it. Say why I ruined you,” he barely slips the tip in before pulling out again. “And you better say my name like that again.”

You flushed in embarrassment, trying to wiggle away from him, but he wasn’t having it. “No, no, no,” he chuckled darkly, pushing you deeper in the mattress, slipping the tip in again before pulling out just to see you squirm. “No running away from me. Now say it.”

“Sannie, please,” you whimpered pathetically, trying to rut your hips up to take him deeper, but he wasn’t having it. “I need you. You think I’d just let any other man have me like this?”

That did it. His breath stuttered, shoulders locking as if he could hold himself together, but then his eyes opened, and he wasn’t the same San anymore. The restraint shattered in an instant, leaving him undone, raw, and burning with a hunger he could no longer cage. “Fuck, I’ll make you feel good,” he said, voice deep and husky. “I’ll make you feel real good.”

He pulled away for a moment, grabbing his wallet from his pants, and all of a sudden, there was a condom in front of your face. “Bite,” San ordered. Confused, you blink a few times as you warily eye the condom he was holding flat near your mouth. Unsure what exactly he's going for, you bite down on the edge and he rips the wrapper open with one smooth pull. He smirked, and for a moment, you just stared at him in a daze, your pulse spiking up in dangerous levels.

You watch him slide the rubber on his aching shaft before he grabs a few pillows to put under your head, making sure you are comfortable first. “Tell me,” he slides his cock against your slit again. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“I don’t care,” you babbled, already lost in the pleasure that’s still yet to come. “J-Just, please—”

A degrading smile fills his lips. “You can do better than that, little bunny.” “Please,” you cried out. “San, I need it badly, I need you so bad, please.”

Luckily, he was getting impatient. He sank into you deep in one smooth motion. San fit inside you so well, the stretch was delicious. He buries his head on your shoulder, hissing a curse on your skin. “God,” he choked. “Goddamn it, Y/N.”

He didn’t even try to start slow, setting a quick, frantic pace as soon as he began to move. You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation of his cock going back and forth against your walls, your nails involuntary scratching his back from time to time when he hit an angle that had you seeing stars behind your eyes. “D-Do I feel good?” You whimpered.

He turned his head sideways, still leaning on your shoulders. The sight could have finished you then and there - his eyes were half-lidded, his mouth slightly opened as he pounded onto you, drops of sweat dripping from his temples to his veiny neck. San was deep; both in you and in the pleasure.

“The best,” he groaned, breath laboured, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, his eyes still on you. “The fucking best, bunny. It’s like you were made for me.” You wanted to say that maybe you were, but his teeth had already clamped on your collarbone. You moaned lewdly, your tongue lolling out from your mouth. San shuddered at the sight, and he set an even more impossible pace as he began to fuck you even harder.

You were clinging to each other so desperately. You could only imagine how difficult it was for him to refrain from touching you. It made sense why his pace was sloppy rather than rhythmical and the way he drank the taste of your lips as if he could never get his fill. You gave him everything you could, wrapping your legs around him to take him deeper.

“Want me to breed you full of my cum?” His words were low, slurring as his pace got even more frenzied. One of his hands was rubbing your clit, his leg propped up so he could reach deep inside you with every thrust. “Want me to remind you who you belong to?”

“Yours,” you gasped, concentrating on that ticklish feeling in your lower gut. “I-I’m yours.”

Something sad flickered in his eyes, there and gone so quickly. “If you were actually mine, I’d do this over and over again,” he confessed. “I’d never let you go.” But I am. I’ve always been yours. Whether you knew it or not. Whether you felt it or not. You were so close, you could feel it, and you knew he was too. His fingers drawing circles on your clit became more fervent, his hips drilling into you like a madman leaving his mark on his property. You wanted to jump into it, that never-ending chasm calling to you, but just before your climax hit, San’s voice cut through, his hand on your face.

“Keep your eyes open,” he rasped frantically, leaning down until his forehead pressed against yours, with desperation you’ve never seen from him even from today, and it terrifies you a little. “Look at me when you come, don’t you dare close your eyes.” Your eyes fluttered, your orgasm slowly crashing into you in waves. “San, I can’t,” you whined, almost painfully, your eyes shutting close. “San, please, let me come, fuck, please–”

“No, please, love, please, I need you to look at me,” he whimpered, voice cracking pitifully, He sniffled, something akin to a sob crawling up his throat. You felt his fingers pry your eyes open and you gasped.  “Don’t close them, look at me, don’t shut me out, please,” he begged.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the sheer plea in his tone. He was unraveling and it was your undoing. You tried to keep your eyes open as you felt your orgasm wash over you the same time you felt San’s load shoot deep inside you. Amidst your screams of pleasure was your heart breaking under the weight of how desperately San needed you to remember this.

He slots his lips to yours, meeting his kisses with equal fervent, until you feel wetness slide between your lips. They were coming in rapids, and they were salty. San was silently crying as he poured all that he had in the kiss you both shared in the aftermath of it all.

San collapsed against you, his forehead buried in the curve of your neck. His shoulders trembled, uneven breaths breaking into sobs he didn’t hide. You wrap your arms around him, your soothing hushes filling in the air until his sobs turned into heartbreaking wails of despair that left him chasing his laboured breaths in your arms. There was so much you could do as the sound of San breaking down filled the room, but at the same time, you didn’t know what to do to help him. It was everything - the secrets he refused to tell you, memories that plagued him, his life before you that he probably was never going to say.

Hours could have passed, but in reality, it was only minutes. San’s breathing evened, small hiccups left as a telltale sign. “I’m going to do right by you,” he suddenly said, voice rugged and scratchy from prolonged sobs. “I’m going to set things straight. You believe me, right? ”

For once, you didn’t know what to say. He tenses, his swollen eyes meeting yours, his hold on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d disappear. “I’ll do anything for you,” he added. “No matter what happens from now on…I want you to know that this is who I am, alright?”

You froze, not knowing what to do, but he wasn’t having it. “Y/N? Answer me,” he begged. And you had to nod your head, trusting your gut to tell you the right thing.

San left two weeks ago. It had been a long week of pretending you were alright. An exhausting week of getting used to being alone without his constant presence. A torturous week of his hands still imprinted on your skin. A masochistic week of hoping the bruises and love bites he left on you would never fade. A desolate week of acceptance and denial going back and forth.

You tried to move on, you really did. He was just a man, anyway, and you were L/N Y/N, the carefree heiress of the Kang Corporation. There were plenty of people who were willing to grovel on bended knees for even a sliver of your attention. But San was the man you fell in love with. He was the man that changed your life for the better, the one who taught you the importance of loving yourself because no one else would do it better. How do you move on from the best thing that’s ever happened to you? How? You refused another bodyguard, much to your father’s chagrin, but also, you refused to stay cooped in your penthouse all day long. You were done looking at every inch of the house and being reminded of what you never completely had with him in the first place. You tried to regain your sense of self, and even then, San’s influence on you was strong. Though if you were being honest with yourself, all of these were just coping mechanisms. In reality, you isolated yourself. Your phone was on permanent ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode, sending a text to signify you’re still alive somehow, and you completely disregarded work. It was how you found yourself standing still in front of this wretched cafe at ten o’clock in the morning. Your isolation was bothering everybody so Yeosang had instructed Wooyoung to get you by force so you could finally explain why the L/N Y/N was suddenly living like a hermit. You adjusted your sunglasses, squared your shoulders, and walked in. As expected, everyone’s heads turned to you, including the people you were meeting. You were the epitome of confidence and allure, after all. So why was the attention making your skin crawl now?

“Oh, she shows up,” Seonghwa smirked, pulling a chair for you to sit down, to which you gracefully did. “Finally. So you’re alive. Got me worried you died in your sleep or something.”

You scoffed. “Please,” you deadpanned. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You’re right, you were already doing that to yourself,” Yunho sipped his coffee, blunt as always. “Your brother,” he side-eyes Yeosang. “Is worried. We all are. What’s happening to you?”

You gritted your teeth, your jaw ticking at the straightforward question. Seonghwa squinted his eyes at you. “And you look different,” he pointed out. “Not physically. I can’t explain it. You have this dark cloud above you. Hard to say. Can’t fool us, sunshine. I can see through you.” 

You rolled your eyes, heaving out a dry laugh. “Am I not allowed to have time for myself? Jesus,” you sarcastically remarked, adjusting your sunglasses, hoping that no one noticed how much your hands were shaking. “Why am I here anyway?”

“Technically? Your father’s patience is thinning. You’re not working and it’s a mess. I can’t push your inheritance any longer,” Yunho explained. “Personally? We genuinely missed you.”

But of course, Yeosang noticed your tremors. He finally spoke, voice quiet but steady, and somehow, it hit you harder. “It’s your bodyguard, isn’t it?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You could see the confusion on the other two’s faces, but you lied, anyway. “No. Life goes on, he’s doing well, and so am I.”

“Oh? Then look me in the eye and tell me it isn’t so. Take your sunglasses off.”

You froze, your hesitance prompting the three of them to exchange knowing looks. Yunho was the one who moved, snatching your glasses off your face. You tried to duck, but it was too late. Your swollen, red-rimmed eyes were exposed, the purple splotches and darkened eyebags told them everything that they needed to know.

Seonghwa’s eyes softened, his trembling fingers gently touching your cheeks. “Sunshine,” he whimpered, taken aback at how messed up you looked. “W-What did he do to you?”

The thread that was holding you together snapped. You tried to hold your tears in, but your lips were already wobbling before you could stop it. Without a word, Yeosang holds you closer, pulling your head to lean on his shoulder. It was a surprising scene - you were never one to cry. 

You told them everything as your tears soaked your brother’s shirt. You told them how you annoyed San to death and how much he ignored you. How he saved you from that mugger to him living with you. Your voice got a bit lighter when you told them how San taught you things, getting gloomy when you told them how much he held back with you. It was difficult, you’ve never really talked about San to other people.

“That’s it? He just quit?” Yeosang asked, his soothing hand rubbing your back in comfort. “I mean I was aware since Wooyoung told me, but I didn’t know he was acting odd around you beforehand. You don’t have to say anything if this is hard for you to talk about.”

You shook your head. “Y-You don’t get it,” your voice cracked, your fingers curling into Yeosang’s sleeve. “It’s only going to get harder from here, Yeo. Nothing will be alright anymore.“

The three of them went still, their expressions shifting into something more somber. Yunho’s voice came carefully, realisation washing over him. “You love him.”

Yeosang tightened his hold on you when you nodded. “With all my heart,” you whispered in anguish.. “He’s my one, I-I don’t know what to do with myself and all these feelings.”

Seonghwa hissed out a curse, rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t understand. I thought San was a decent man. Last time I saw him when I signed that contract with you, his eyes never left you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you two already had something going on.”

Yunho’s face crumpled in confusion. “That’s the second time I’m hearing that name. What the hell is a San? Am I missing something?” Seonghwa was about to reply when Yeosang turned to the older man. “You call him San too? Ha, I haven’t even seen the guy after the interview,” he joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. He turns to you in question. “I’ve always wondered, why do you call him San?”

“Because that’s his name,” you simply said, not even having the energy to get mad. “What? Anything else you want to add?”

“I mean, he’s pretty damn elusive, that’s all. Your father’s literally been trying to reach him for months,” Yunho shrugged. “I’m just mainly confused where you got San from the name Jongho, that’s all. Is it a childhood nickname?”

A bomb goes off in your head. Your ears started to ring, your surroundings warping as you felt puzzle pieces move in your brain. “That’s what I said,” Yeosang scoffed. “I thought she had this odd kink with Jongho or something since she’s always called him San.”

All three of them stopped their chatter to look at you and how pale your face had become. “N-No,” you stammered. “San is my bodyguard, that is his name. Choi San. I mean, I’m sorry I’ve been skipping work, but isn’t this Jongho guy an employee or director at the company?”

Yeosang and Yunho whipped their heads at one another, their faces paling as the gears in their own heads started to shift. “Love. I want you to listen to me very, very carefully,” Yunho said slowly. “We don’t have a director named Choi Jongho.”

Your stomach dropped, a cold sweat breaking out at the back of your neck. “What?” The word barely left your lips. You shook your head furiously, your chest tightening with each word. “No, that’s not possible. You interviewed San, Yeosang, you said it yourself—”

“I interviewed Choi Jongho,” Yeosang interrupted, his voice grim. “Not Choi San.”

Yunho gritted his teeth, pulling his phone out. “We’re settling this right now,“ he snarled, putting his phone to his ear. “Wooyoung? Yeah, we’re almost done. Can you do me a favour? Y/N’s bodyguard. Send me a photo now.”

Not a minute later, Yunho’s phone vibrated. He taps his screen, turning the phone to Yeosang who just hums. “Yeah, that’s the guy I interviewed.”

However, when Seonghwa leaned forward to look, the blood in his face drained. His mouth fell open, his entire body going rigid. “That’s not your bodyguard,” he said hoarsely. “Holy fucking hell. That is not San.”

You snatched the phone so fast, you almost dropped it, because the man in the photo was, indeed, not San. Your San had sharper eyes, higher cheekbones and a small scar on his brow. What made it worse was that you have seen this man - you just didn’t know where yet. “We have to go,” Yeosang said hurriedly, pulling you by the arm to snap you out of your shock. “Right fucking now. We’ve been sitting out in the open. I’ll flag Wooyoung to the entrance.”

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. You tried to walk, but your knees gave out and Yunho barely caught you. You didn’t even register getting shoved in the backseat along with everyone. Who had you let into your home? Into your heart? Into your bed? Into your life?

Your vision swam. The memories pressed against you - his evasions, the way he always said less than he should, the way he looked at you like he was memorizing a lie he couldn’t keep straight. “T-That can’t be,” you still denied. that’s just not possible.”

“Hold on, now I’m confused,” Seonghwa said, lost. “Let me get this straight, whoever this San is was pretending to be your bodyguard all along? But why?”

The car went dead silent, but not for long. Yeosang curses out loud. “I don’t know,” he hissed. “However, all of our company problems started happening the moment he got hired. Fuck.” 

You wanted to protest, San would never do that, but you stopped yourself because you knew that there was no point in denying everything. Your chest caved in and for the first time, the puzzle pieces you had been avoiding slid together and the picture they formed made you sick.

“Forget that,” Seonghwa seethed in a rare show of discomposure. “The question is, where is the real Jongho?”

Yunho turns to you, desperation swimming in his eyes. “Think, Y/N, please. I know it’s hard, but we need to know if you can think of moments where you thought he was acting off.”

You were stupid. So, so stupid. The signs were all there and yet…were you that enamoured with San that you never noticed? Or was he that good at distracting you? Memories flooded your head one by one and through tears, you recounted them out loud.

“Well,” you began. “I’m about to make you feel even more special. I need a pen. Got documents to sign and some dude named Jongho to see.”It was when his eyes shifted towards the folder you were holding. His eyes focused so hard on the folder that you wouldn’t even be surprised if it suddenly caught on fire. But minutes passed, and he was still eyeing it. 

The moment you were done talking, everyone looked at each other. Even Wooyoung looked at the rear view mirror as he drove. It was clear - San knew what the folder held from the start. You wished it ended there. And now, you knew everything he did was to distract you from the truth.

A sigh leaves your lips as you try to rack up with more names. “Darn it, I can’t remember. Jongin? Ah, I think it’s Jongh—”

“Actually, I was thinking of going for a walk with you,” San said, cutting you off so casually that it made your brain stutter.

Yeosang rubbed your back, his eyes filled with sorrow, as more tears fell from your eyes. San never asked for walks, and you knew it. You thought he was warming up to you. But the reality was cruel. That walk was never about you - it was about distracting you from finding Jongho. “I tried to work, I really did,” you explained in haste, your voice starting to get hoarse. “B-But San…he was always there. I-I’m sorry, Yeo. I-I’m dumb and stupid—”

“No, you’re not,” Yeosang cut off sharply. “It’s not your fault. It’s his and his, alone.”

Your face burned in embarrassment as you put the plates in the sink. You dreaded work, but you’d do anything to get rid of this shame, even finally finding and talking to that Jongho guy your father has been looking for.

“Wait.”

Your heart stopped. Slowly, you turned around, only to see San cocking his head in the direction of where he was going - the kitchen. “You can work later,” he said. ”Follow me.” 

Somehow, this stung harder than you thought. He taught you how to make rice then, he saw the joy in your face every single time you succeeded and you swore you saw his eyes get more and more fond of you. You wanted to choke on your misery, was that a lie all along?

He dangled the keys in front of you like bait. “I’m going to teach you how to drive properly,” he murmured, walking back towards the door before tilting his head slightly. “Come on. You need a distraction.”

“It’s like you’re always distracting me when I have to work. Does my stone-cold bodyguard feel bad for me, after all?”

He scoffed, but for a second, something flickered in his gaze, something almost regretful. “Maybe,” was all he said before he walked out. You remembered that night vividly, the cold bite of the air. It was the first time San felt more than a bodyguard. San taught you how to drive, and while you thought you were falling in love, you also had no idea he was slowly driving you towards the trap he had laid carefully for you.

These were the things you recalled when you got to Hongjoong’s, your father’s assistant, office. The man was understandably horrified and quickly alerted security for an investigation. “Are there more things you could think about?” Hongjoong kindly asked you, giving you a glass of cold water to calm your nerves down. “Anything at all, sweetie. This man can’t be that good.”

But that was the problem; sitting in Hongjoong’s office made you realise that San had never slipped at all. You were the one who handed him everything he needed. All the signs, the cracks, and odd encounters - you ignored the truth laying underneath them.

“Who? San? My bodyguard,” you frowned, feeling slightly offended for San’s sake. “You know, the bodyguard Dad shoved down my throat repeatedly until I got sick of denying him and just let him have his way?”

“Huh,” Yeosang muttered, tilting his head like he was making a note to himself, not responding to you. “I didn’t know that’s what you called him.”

You grimaced, your hands tightening their hold on the glass. You should have known then, you should have seen it because one thing you also ignored was how every time Yeosang visited the penthouse, San always managed to be out on the same day without any fail. “Then, there was that time with Yunho,” you sniffled, the aforementioned taller man wrapping you in his arms for support. “That day I got mugged.”

“I’m fine, but more than that, the folder is safe. Unfortunately, I still have it with me.”

“You do? I thought I told you to give it to Jongho this morning for safekeeping?”

“I know. I didn’t have the opportunity to. It’s a good thing San was there when I got mugged.”“How?” He pressed on, puzzled. “Was he not with you?”

You scrunched your brows in perplexity. “How? I didn’t even reach the damn company,” you retorted back, annoyed that all Yunho thought was the folder

“Also, San? Who’s that?”

The memory sat like lead in your gut. You were such a fool, that was the second instance where someone questioned San’s name in the same context. How had you missed it? You gritted your teeth, anger slowly rising in your head. San played you like a fool and you were too blind to see.

“But why, though?” Yeosang questioned, his face grim and devoid of anything positive at the moment. “I don’t understand what the end goal is here, why would he do this? For what? What was he after?” “That’s what we’re here for,” Hongjoong sighed, stress and frustration clear on his face. “I need proof. We can’t keep guessing here. I need something that directly ties him to everything. Is there anything significant that happened while he was with you? Something huge?”

Silence. Everybody’s eyes were on you expectantly and you wanted to combust on the spot. Your chest felt heavy, your head hurting from how deep you tried to dig in your memory for something. And then it clicked like a sword lodging in your heart; sharp and devastating.

“Corporate espionage,” you choked, voice cracking as you spoke. Your eyes burned, shame and grief tightening your throat. “He was selling information to the Songs. T-There was a time where San taught me how to properly arrange my finances. I gave him the company’s budgetary plan as an example.”

“Fuck,” Yeosang swore viciously, making you flinch. “The Songs updated theirs the next day then stocks tanked. Joong, we have to go talk to Dad. Hwa’s family might be compromised…”

You barely heard Yeosang and Hongjoong leave the room and anything else for that matter. You wanted to claw your heart out, tear it from your chest. You were nothing but a pawn. To have loved San so much, only for the love you clung to might’ve not existed at all was unbearable.

“Hey,” Seonghwa called out, sharper than you’d ever heard him. He kneeled down, holding your face firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare make yourself believe your feelings weren’t real, you hear me? None of this was your fault. Absolutely nothing is.”

Yunho wiped the fresh set of tears streaming down your face. “Hwa’s right, love. You loved him and that was real. That was all you. He has taken enough and he doesn’t get to take this away.”

It’s been a month since that day and you were getting worse and worse the more days passed. You weren’t just dealing with the heartbreak of San’s absence, but you were also dealing with the shame and guilt that compromised your father’s company as a whole. This burned, because San knew what you felt about inheriting the company yet he still used you to basically spoon-feed information directly in the Songs’ mouths.

“Thanks for letting me crash here for a while, Yeo,” you said, slinging the bag that had your clothes on your shoulders. “I think I’ll go home for now. I'll text you when I get there.”

You didn’t want to be alone and when your brother offered to let you stay at his place just so you wouldn’t feel too lonely, you readily agreed. Yeosang gave you a sad smile, opting to give you a tight hug before you got in your car and drove away. 

You missed San terribly. You learned how to live without him, but the ache didn’t fade with time. And you hated  that you yearned for him even when he dismantled your world. He had been an integral part of your life and him getting cut out of the picture was still a bitter pill to swallow. The nights were the worst. You found yourself half-expecting to find him there, for his voice to lull you back to sleep. You reached for him more times than you could count, only to be reminded that he was gone, and that he’d never really been yours to begin with.

You genuinely loved him. You loved the man who tied your shoelaces, who danced with you in a parking lot. You closed the door behind after you entered, wishing it was your heart, dumping your bag on the floor without care. You didn’t know if any of it was real. The rarest smiles he gave you were a mask, every touch a strategy disguised as affection. And now, the house was empty, the only sounds filling it was a melodious tune being whistled in the kitchen.

You paused, freezing. Whistling? Someone was in your house at this very moment, and you knew it wasn’t San. San did not know how to whistle. You moved slowly, tiptoeing carefully towards the kitchen and with a deep breath, you peeked in the room.

Only to find absolutely nothing. You blinked, confused, walking in to inspect your completely empty kitchen. Were you hallucinating? Were you—

“Hi.”

The scream you let out could have shattered anyone’s ears. You turned around quickly, expecting to find a stranger- anyone, really - but what you were not expecting was to see a very familiar face. You’ve seen this man twice now; the latest was when Yunho showed you a picture of him on his phone, and the first time was when he tried to take your folder and mug you.

The shock on your face must have been comical because Jongho’s face contorted into one of amusement. “You,” you seethed in disbelief, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He grinned, leaning against your dining table like it was his. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Me.”

“How the hell did you get in my house?”

He laughed without humour. “Me getting in here is the least of your worries, Y/N.”

You scoffed in disbelief, feeling a little brave, maybe a little stupid. Even if you knew San would betray you, you’d still take him. San was also standoffish, but not to the extent this one was. You were glad Jongho wasn’t your bodyguard. “Go bitch off away from me before I call the cops.”

Jongho’s brows raised, a nasty smirk curling on his lips. “Women shouldn’t curse.”

“Get fucked,” you hissed, reeling yourself in before you blew a gasket. Jongho’s eyes widened slightly before laughing out loud. “I’m serious,” you said. “You do not want to mess with me.”

“Wrong. I’m not stuck with you, you’re stuck with us,” Jongho waved you off. When he said it, he pointed at the bedroom where San stayed and the door was ajar. You swallowed. “Right, someone else wants to have a word with ‘ya. I’m just followin’ orders from my boss.”

You whispered San's name. That earned you a sarcastic clap. “Well, hot diggity dog. He did say you were perceptive. No surprise he’s head over heels for ‘ya, talkin’ to you like this. You’re quite the charmer.”

“But why?” You blurted out, ignoring his sarcasm. “I-I don’t understand. You were supposed to be my bodyguard, weren’t you?”

“Wrong again. San would’ve still been your bodyguard. ’Ya just happened to pick me that day, but they would have found a way,” he said like it wasn’t such a big deal. “Not hard to pull a fast one, seein‘ as we’ve got the same last name.”

Your chest tightened, but you still had more questions. “You were that mugger that day, weren’t you? What was the end goal here? Why did you do that?”

Jongho’s eyes hardened alarmingly. “Don’t ‘ya get it? My goal was to never mug ’ya that day. It was just a means to an end. C’mon, rub those brain cells together now, sweetheart…”

At first you still didn’t get it, but when you did, you reeled back, the air knocked out of your lungs. “I was the goal,” you choked out. “Moving in to watch me. That was the goal.”

“Ding ding ding,” Jongho sing-songed, smirking like a cat with a rat. “Funny thing is, we launched a product the next day, similar to Kang Yeosang’s. Bit strange, innit?”

You couldn’t breathe, because you already knew. You remembered oversleeping that day, the mugging taking a toll on you. While you slept, San went through the folder and gave Yeosang’s draft to the Songs. Your world spun, and you gripped the chair in front of you. Fuck, fuck—

“Choi Jongho. Quit dilly-dallying around. I need to talk to her.”

Both your heads turned in the direction of the bedroom. Jongho visibly straightens, but he hides it with a smirk and a mocking bow to you. “Right. Well, off ‘ya go. Be good now, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have the energy to glare at him as you forced yourself to walk in the bedroom. When you pushed the door open, there was a man sitting on the edge of the bed, his back towards you. He didn’t even flinch when you entered. “This place is too quiet,” he spoke lightly, his voice surprisingly rough and deep. “I bet he loved it. This is practically paradise for him.”

Slowly, he turned. He was good-looking, his face sharp with edges in all the right places. And he was holding San’s journal in his hand. “Don’t touch that,” you snapped, heat in your voice despite the circumstances. “Do you even know what and whose that is? ”

His lips quirked up into a small smile. “Sannie,” he said, tapping the journal with his finger. “Especially considering my brother almost begged me to give this to you.”

Brother. You did remember San mentioning a brother once. They didn’t look alike, not even a bit. This man was taller, but San was broader. But his eyes. They were the exact same shape and held the same conviction. It was like San was staring at you from another man’s eyes.

“So,” he hummed, studying you with cool curiosity. “You’re the girl my brother risked everything for. It’s cliché, isn’t it? Two rivals from different companies falling for each other.”

You faltered, lips parting but no words came out. Just when you thought that things couldn’t get more complicated, the heir of the Songs was right here in the flesh, standing before you with the notion of wanting to speak with you. In no universe did you ever imagine that the brother San refused to talk about would be the Song Mingi.

“I owe you an apology,” Mingi said sincerely. He wasn’t smug, not anything like the rival you’d been conditioned to expect. In fact, he sounded nice. “For breaking in like this. I had no choice. I really needed to talk to you, and it was safer this way. We can’t be seen in public together.”

You gritted your teeth. He was the enemy. “What do you want?” You asked, tone clipped. “What would prompt someone like you to be here? Wasn’t milking my company enough for you?”

Mingi flinched, shoulders sagging in defeat. You ignored the dark lines under his eyes probably caused by stress. “I’ll cut to the chase,” he began. “I hate the way my family plays dirty. As you know, I will inherit the company soon, and I want to make changes even sooner.”

You laughed, hollow and full of restrained anger. “Are you joking with me? You think I’ll believe you after everything? Your brother,” you paused, voice cracking. “San broke my trust. He broke my heart. None of what you say will have any merit, Song.”

That hit him. His eyes softened with a mix of something raw, pained, and shame into one. “For the record,” he said quietly. “San never wanted this. My brother has a pure heart. He always has. It’s his best trait and his worst downfall. And please, just Mingi would do.”

You wanted to argue, to spit out your anger, even with the sincerity in his tone, but he raised his hands in surrender. “Please, just hear me out for a second,” he pleaded in desperation. Your traitorous heart wanted to know more about San. You let him talk. “San’s my older half-brother. Our mum…she loved his dad, but she was forced to marry mine for power. ”

Mingi paused to see if you were listening. “Sannie was shunned and ridiculed by the family, treated like he didn’t exist all because of his father. He lived most of his life in Namhae, but we were very close. San,” Mingi swallowed, guilt laced in his eyes. “He never held a grudge. He loved life, but he craved affection. He craved to belong somewhere.”

Your chest ached, memories of the sadness in San’s eyes when you asked him basic questions that night haunting you. “It’s my fault,” he hissed, closing his eyes. “I told him to come here. That maybe bygones were bygones and the family might have forgotten. But I was dead wrong.”

“All San wanted was to spend time with our mum. So my father,” his jaw hardened. “He gave San a…test. To prove his worth. To play your bodyguard to get inside information. It’s cruel. Jongho and I wanted to stop him, but there’s only so much I can do under that roof.”

You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to feel it. But the shards of San’s backstory embedded themselves under your skin, and it hurt more because of how much you loved him. “Why are you telling me this?” You fumed, fists turning white in sheer madness.

“I’m not doing this to erase what happened. I just want you to know that what you had with my brother was real. Please, you have to believe me,” he pressed, more desperate. “Every time he reported back and mentioned you, I’ve never seen him that happy. He wanted to stop midway, but my father’s a bastard. I know this isn’t an excuse, and I’m truly, utterly sorry. I really am.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. “When he did put a stop to it,” his voice cracked faintly. “He gave up everything. Family, status, all of it just so he could finally stop lying to you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning, but your anger wouldn’t loosen its grip. “What do you want from me, then? What’s this really about?”

Mingi exhaled slowly. “I want to undo the damage my family’s company has done to yours.”

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it to you. You flipped it open and scanned it. Detailed exposés, records, evidence that could change everything. “Oh my God, ” you whispered. “Why would you give me this?”

Mingi’s expression shifted into something softer, almost mournful. “San gathered them before he left. If I release this, it would ostracize him from our family completely. He might even get exiled. He knew this, and still,” his gaze fell briefly to the journal in his hand. “He chose you.”

“I’m going to do right by you,” he suddenly said, voice rugged and scratchy from prolonged sobs. “I’m going to set things straight. You believe me, right? ”

“What’s the catch?” You asked, voice breaking, your heart squeezing painfully. 

“Just one. A partnership between the Kangs and the Songs with most shares being yours. I'm sick of this meaningless rivalry and I’m even sicker of my father ruining the legacy my grandfather built from the ground up. And off the record? From everything San’s told me, I think you’d make a damn good CEO. It would be a great honour to work alongside you, Y/N.”

You gripped the envelope in your hands, hesitation still clear in your eyes. “I’ll think about it,” you whispered. “I hope you understand how big this is, Mingi. What’s in it for me?”

“I can tell you where San is.”

You froze, your whole body wanting to shut down with the information. He set San’s journal in your hands along with his card. “Call me when you’ve decided. San really loved you. Still does,” he said before leaving your house with Jongho.

You stared at the journal, not really knowing what to do but open it. You were met with random scribbles of his thoughts. All of them were about you. Your heart sped up, so did your fingers as you turned page after page, finding out that all he did was write about you in his free time. You wanted to believe that all these words were more than letters to you, but each of them screamed at you. And then, at the back, a letter. Written carefully, with deliberate strokes, as though he knew this would be his only chance to say what he couldn’t say for months.

I love you. I love you so deeply you have no idea how much and you will never know even if you tried. I wish I could have one extra day with you, just one more day, but I can’t. I wasn’t supposed to love you, but I couldn't help it.

I knew you before the world did. You’ll remember me after it forgets. Take care, Y/N.

San.

The words blurred as soon as you stopped reading, tears spilling fast and unstoppable. For the first time since he’d gone, you didn’t just cry; you shattered completely.

After much deliberation and consultation from your father - who was more sorry for your situation rather than disappointed and angry - you called Mingi the day after. You made a bold decision of asking him to meet at a public cafe, one he readily agreed to. 

By the next morning, the tabloids screamed headlines of the elusive Kang heiress finally stepping into the spotlight - with the one and only Song Mingi, no less, who you soon realize was a sweetheart. He had no problems coming whenever you called him, even though it put him at odds with his own family, and even apologized to your father in person.

The aftermath of it all was messy. It took every ounce of grit from Yeosang, Yunho, and Seonghwa’s family, and Mingi to stitch it back together. Even Jongho - who was actually from a prominent family, himself - begrudgingly agreed to help. Mostly to mess with you. When news of the merge broke, it was strangely well received.  With the exposé out in the open, Mingi slipped seamlessly into the CEO chair of his own company, effectively ending the terror his father had inflicted on every other company out there. With your companies combining, you were unstoppable and finally, everything was over.

You watched your father carefully fix the plaque that said CEO on the desk, smile wistful, eyes lined with sorrow like your own. “I’m proud of you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m very proud of the person you’ve become. Your mother would have been, too.”

You swivelled your head on the portrait that held your entire family. Your mother was still young and bright, ready to take the world into the palm of her hands. “I wish she were here,” you whispered. “She would have been scandalised if she found out we merged with the Songs.” 

Your father laughed heartily, before his eyes drooped somber once more. “Maybe I wanted you to take on the position because you looked so much like her,” he said. “It made me feel like she was here again. I’m sorry I pushed you so much.”

“I understand. However,” you paused, putting your hand on your brother’s shoulder, squeezing it for support. “Someone’s better suited in this position than me, Dad. You and I both know it.”

Being CEO was a good look on Yeosang. It was a role that was waiting for him all his life. He caught your gaze, eyes softening. “I wouldn’t have been here without you,” Yeosang said quietly. “Your quiet support was enough, and I learned strength from you. But,” he held your hand and squeezed. “I just wish you were happy.”

You faltered, trying to take pride in the praise, but you felt hollow, and both Yeosang and your father could see right through your facade. Because somewhere out there was the man you loved - the man who broke you - and still, you missed him as fiercely as the day he left.

You’ve never been to Namhae before, but you should have a long time ago. The place feels like a world apart from the city’s hustle as you walk along the narrow streets of the town. It was smaller than you thought, but it was bustling with life. The scent of fish cakes lingered in the air, overpowering all the other varieties of food surrounding the small stall situated in the corner. Your breath hitches. You knew he’d be here, but still, your heart wasn’t ready now that he was only a couple of metres away from you.

San working a humble job, trying to live anonymously, was something you never thought you’d ever see, and at first, you didn’t recognize him. He was busy handing an elderly lady a cupful of fish cakes and tteokbokki, the smile that had his dimples popping up that you fell in love with now out as if it’s always been natural to him. This San did not belong in your memory.

And yet, there he was -  not in a suit, but in a plain shirt and jeans. His eyes were still as piercing as ever, though now there was something softer about them and something more lost. The hardness that once defined him was gone, his face no longer cold and stoic but calm and serene that suggested contentment and peace.

You froze where you stood, not knowing whether you should cry or not. It’s been three months since you last saw him and you thought the amount of preparation you did would ease all the emotions you’ve been holding back, but no. You were still heartbroken, but God, the love you felt for him never lessened. If anything, it just intensified tenfold.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, willing your voice not to break, when you stepped in front of the stall while his back was turned from you. “Can I have a stick of tteokbokki, please?”

“Of course, give me one second, please,” he said with the same smile, not looking at you as he set up his work station. “Did you say—”

The world outside of that stall fell away the moment his gaze met yours. San’s smile dropped slightly, and there it was; the unmistakable recognition behind his eyes layered with guilt, remorse, and shame. But at the same time, the way his eyes softened told you clear as day that there was still that undeniable love he reserved only for you somewhere. He straightened his spine, though the way he gripped the counter that had his knuckles turning white betrayed him. “Tteokbokki, yes? What else can I get you?”

Your lips twitched, a smile threatening to come out of it. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “What would you recommend?”

You took one step, leaning a bit closer than normal towards the stall. He doesn’t react at first, expression as composed as ever. “Everything here is good,” he murmured, audibly swallowing before he started to move. “My father has a good supplier so the fish are fresh—ah, shit.”

He tried to grab a ladle, but fumbled when he accidentally dropped it, making it clatter against a pot and producing a loud twang that caught the attention of other people. “Yeah. Fish. Fresh. Delicious. Very popular,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

You pursed your lips, taking a few very deep breaths to cover up the loud laugh you wanted to let out. “I see,” you hummed, nodding a few times as if taking his statement seriously. “Not that I don’t believe you, but are you sure you’re not just saying that because you think I’ll like them?”

“You’ve always liked them,” he said as soon as you finished talking, faster than he’d like to admit. Your eyes widen a bit, and San freezes as if he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. “I mean everybody likes them…yeah.”

You gave him a smile, a genuine one; one you couldn’t help but let out anyway. His breath hitches, pressing a hand against his temple like you’d just short-circuited him, as he gripped the ladle so tightly, the muscles in his arms flexed. You’re surprised the ladle hasn’t bent yet.

“So, you remember,” you said, your smile widening enough for your eyes to smile with you.

And San notices. He stares at you for a beat too long, lost in a world in his head only known to no one but him. You saw something flash on his face. It might have been fondness, you weren’t sure. “Do you want the fish cakes or not?” He asked, voice low and controlled.

“I do,” you bit your lip, deliberately looking at him up and down, making sure he saw it. “I also want something else.”

He knocked over a tray this time, and you saw him squeeze his eyes shut in frustration before forcing a polite smile. “You’re,” he exhaled sharply, opening his mouth and closing it over and over again. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

“And yet,” you leaned just a little closer, lowering your voice. “You’ve missed this.”

He didn’t say anything, just silently staring at you. That stare used to feel empty and hollow whenever it landed on you, but now, it was placating, filled with warmth he could never hide and the love he still carried no matter how hard he tried to bury or hide it from you.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You haven’t changed, still playing games with me and trying to win,” San said quietly, the faintest curve tugging at his lips. His eyes softened, tone going even softer, thick with truth. “But you don’t need to. You’ve already won.”

Hearing him say that was like the air being punched out of your lungs and stitched back together all at once. This time, it was your turn to get speechless. San took his apron off, setting it down the counter before looking behind him. There was a man there who you didn’t even notice and it doesn’t take long for you to realise who it was.

His father. He seemed to have a silent conversation with San through their eyes. Eventually, he simply lifted a hand and waved him off like he already knew. “Come with me,” San murmured when he glanced back at you, almost a command, but gentler than you’d ever heard from him. It was how you found yourself sitting with San by the water, sitting by the edge of the docks as you let the docile waters kiss your feet.  He didn’t touch you, didn’t say anything. But his presence felt like the closest thing to home you’d had since he left. For a long moment, neither of you moved. The silence between you wasn’t empty, but rather, heavy and filled with all the things neither of you talked about for months.

San still captivated you, though it wasn’t the same as back then where you were attracted to  how cold he was. The weight of everything he carried made him even more mesmerising and you couldn’t help but think that this life he chose, far from the politics and scheming lies of it all, was one he wanted all along before he traveled to the city.

All the weight on your shoulders lifted and maybe this was the closure you needed. Maybe this could be what you both needed to accept that some things cannot be fixed, and maybe that was alright.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” San swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the side to meet your somber ones. “I didn’t want to be the reason for your heartache.”

You smiled albeit melancholic. “You weren’t the only reason, though. One way or another, I was bound to get hurt because of who I was. It was never about you. Not entirely, anyway.”

His jaw tightened, as if the words had cut deeper than he was willing to admit. You swirled your feet in the water, playing with it, altering the flow like you were with your life. “I’ve changed a lot, I think,” you giggled, your smile widening a bit. “I’m no longer trapped in my responsibilities and in my shallow thoughts. I think I’m on my way to leading my own life.”

He stares, lifts up his hand hesitantly. It momentarily freezes in the air before he tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ears. It was a gesture so simple and familiar that it made your lips quiver, not expecting the vulnerability in the moment. “Life is unpredictable. You did good,” he said with a wry smile. “I saw the news. Your brother’s a fine CEO.”

Your eyes lingered on him, memorizing him all over again. “It’s interesting,” you started. “The ache of what you did is still here. Yet, I find myself craving it if it means being with you.”

There was a quiet desperation in his gaze, as if he wanted to believe your words. The storm in his eyes held regret, longing, and amidst all the haze, something softer. “You were the last person I ever wanted to hurt,” he whispered, rough. “But I did. I can’t apologise enough because that life…what I did, I chose to do it. After everything, this is all I could do.”

“I should’ve seen it back then, though,” you said, chest aching, threatening to cave in. “Not that I’m absolving you of every fault. You were right about one thing, however.”

He stays silent, waiting for you to continue. “What you were doing…it should have never gone that far,” you said with a bittersweet smile. “I knew that, but I couldn’t let you stop. In hindsight, I turned a blind eye because I already loved you too much.”

Multiple emotions flashed across San’s face all at once, the most prominent ones being surprise and relief. You never had the opportunity back then to tell him how you really felt, never even thought you’d ever have the courage to, but here you were, baring your feelings for him out in the open. “I loved you, too. More than you ever knew,” he paused, his lips twitching into a smile so sullen, it burned you. “But you fell for the shadow of who I am. Parts of me that were never mine.”

He craned his head in the direction of the sky with his eyes closed as if murmuring a silent prayer for more strength. “I hurt you, Y/N,” he whispered, broken and unbound. “I didn’t even think you’d ever want to see me again. I never stopped caring about you, never stopped thinking about you even after I left my heart in your house.”

“I know. I see that now,” you said softly. “We can’t erase what happened, but back then, I think I just wanted you to want me the same way I wanted you,” you paused, looking at the horizon. “But you. You could have left sooner. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted to be near you even if it meant lying to you,” he admitted.

The confession left you breathless. “You could have told me your family situation and we would have worked something out,” you pressed, voice cracking under the weight of his revelation.

“If you’re here, that means Mingi told you where I am. That also means he told you everything,” San exhaled a breath you didn’t realise he was holding. “Knowing what you know now about my family, did you want me dead or alive to live a lie?” 

You froze. That got you. The answer, as difficult as it is, forms in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “I do know I didn’t want you to be the death of me. I just want you. All of you.”

San’s lips part, a breath of pain escaping him. “You loved me for all the wrong reasons.”

You closed the distance between you, making the bold decision of putting your hand on top of his. “I did,” you said. “But I won’t let you make me out to be the one who’s in the wrong as if loving you isn’t right. I don’t regret it, San. I still don’t. Never will.”

His hand trembled under your hold. Under the soft dusk of what’s left of the sun in the horizon, a tear fell from San’s eye. “Even if I find myself loving you and knowing that I can never give you what you deserve? I want to forfeit, bunny. The shame is too much for me to take.”

You dared to reach for his face this time. His skin was warm and wet, his tear-streaked cheeks wet under your touch. His eyes pleaded for understanding, for forgiveness, even as he couldn't seem to forgive himself. “We can count it all as lost, Sannie,” you said, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “There’s so much more for us if we do.”

He was tense, but you could feel the yearning beneath it, the one you never truly acknowledged from him. “No,” he denied. “Even with all the things that happened, I won’t take anything back. If I could turn the time back, I’d hurt you less, but I won’t change the outcome because I wouldn’t love you as much as I do now. I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I still don’t.”

You leaned your forehead on his, eyes focused on his glistening ones. “But you do,” you whispered. “You loved me in the only way you knew how. And that’s why I’m here.” And when you pulled away, for the first time since you saw him again, his mask fell off. He whispered your name like it was the only thing worth saying and you knew then that while you haven’t forgiven him as a whole, you were ready to let him in again.

And in the devastation of it all, you felt San’s hand at the back of your neck, tilting his head to brush his lips against yours with the gentlest of kisses. You barely felt it, a ghost and whisper on your lips, but the simplicity of it all was hitting you harder than you expected. It was quick, but it was enough for you to tremble against his hold. “For the longest time, I never understood you,” you mumbled. “I thought I had to be a part of your world to love you. I wasn’t, but I did anyway.”

San looked at you for the longest time. “You are my world,” was all he said when he spoke.

You laughed, wild and free for all the times you’ve held back. You laughed so loud that the seagulls hanging around the docks scattered about. And San, he was smiling. It wasn't a polite, close-mouthed one, but rather, one that showed his teeth, made his eyes crinkle, and plumped his cheeks up. And that, that was the most freeing sight of them all. "I want all of you, San,” you said. “Even the parts you think I’m not ready for, but I can’t fix this for you. You have to want it, too."

You got up slowly, water trickling down your feet. San’s gaze followed you immediately, the ache evident on his face. His head tilted back as he looked up at you, eyes heavy with longing, as if the simple act of you standing meant you were already pulling away from him again. His eyes were still following you as you slipped your shoes on, rummaging through your purse for something in particular.

“I didn’t come here just to see you,” you mumbled, setting a small piece of paper on your palm to use as a hard surface so you could write on it. “Like I said, I’m ready to lead my life now. Since Sangie’s CEO now, that means I can finally fulfill my wanderlust and my desire to travel.”

You held the paper that held your phone number and hotel information while you stayed in Namhae in front of San. “I need someone I trust to come along with me in my journey to find myself. I wouldn’t mind having a protector, someone who can shield me from my worries and ease my burdens. So, uh, yeah...call me if you’re interested, San.”

San’s lips parted, and he didn’t move. He just stared at what you offered him like it was something too precious, his throat visibly tightening. He took the paper, your fingers brushing against his briefly and in that moment, it was pretty clear that you weren’t offering it because you needed a bodyguard - you were offering him to stand with you as equals. “I don’t know what to say,” San whispered so softly, you almost didn’t hear him. 

You nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears. All you could do was give him one last, lingering look. “I’ll wait for your answer,” you said, turning around to walk back where you came from. It was hard to walk away, but you had to. And you weren’t going to look back until you heard it - the distinct sound of paper being crumpled from behind you. A moment later, the balled-up paper was thrown in front of your feet. Your heart shattered then and there, for this rejection felt heavier than the prior months you’ve spent with him.

Before you could pick it up, you felt your shoulders being pulled backwards, and the next thing you knew, San’s strong arms were wrapped around you. San’s chest pressed so firmly to your back it felt like he was trying to merge with you. His grip was so tight, you couldn’t breathe.

“I missed you,” he whispered, the rough edges of his voice muffled by your hair. “I fucking missed you. If I didn’t die back then from all the guilt, seeing you walk away from me might just do the trick. I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to let you go. Not anymore.”

“Sannie,” you let out, startled at the sudden embrace. You turned around slowly, meeting his eyes, your heart getting caught in your throat because this was the closest you’ve been ever since that night. “I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

The last of his hesitation crumbled. For a moment, it almost broke you to see him undone, stripped of the masks and walls he always hid behind and he pulled you in for another bone-crushing hug. You froze before relaxing, letting go of everything in this one embrace. The distance, betrayal, lies - all of them, gone. 

“Take me with you,” he said. “I want to be with you in every way possible, if you let me.”

“San,” your heart pounded so loud you almost couldn’t hear yourself speak. “Y-You mean it?”

He nodded once, almost violently. He pulled away, and for the first time, there was a flicker of hope in those beautiful eyes of his.. “I don’t care where, I don’t care how. I just…i-if it’s with you, I’ll go anywhere. Take me now, Y/N.”

Your tears spilled freely now, not just from the ache, but from the weight of finally hearing what you’d always wanted and never thought you’d get with him. “I will,” you whispered, leaning onto his touch, shaking. “God, San, I will.”

"I don’t know if I can be what you need," he began, his lips curving up with that newfound spark of hope.. "But I’ll try. I’ll try, for you. I’ll do anything for you."

You let out a giggle as you wiped your tears away. “So what now? Where do we go from here?”

San tilted his head, grinning. “I know a good diner that serves the best kimchi, if you’d like.”

You hummed, pretending to think. “Or,” you began seductively, just like the old times. “We could skip dinner and go straight to dessert. My hotel room has a mirror on the ceiling.” He scoffed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “You are unbearable, I swear. But, God, I missed how annoying you were,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours as you started to walk. “We can start your grand journey with a full stomach first, bunny.”

You laughed, walking with him away from the dock. Red was the color of love, the hue of a newly blossoming rosebud, much like the tender beginnings between you and San. It was the glow of the setting sun, casting its warmth over the two of you as you walked towards the future.

Except for the familiar sounds of your whimpers coming from your room.

A sharp inhale came from him as he gently strode towards the source of the noise, pressing his ear to your door to confirm that you were indeed—touching yourself.

Wooyoung, being the curious little shit he was, gently pushed your door open to see you perched up on your knees, ass up as you fingered your squelching pussy. Slick was already leaking down your thighs while you watched something on your phone which was leaning against a metal water bottle.

Another sharp breath came to him when he saw what you were watching. Face riding. Specifically the pornstar seemed to be riding her partner's nose.

Fuck, that was hot.

He could see how much you were struggling to make yourself cum, your fingers not being enough to fill you up anymore, needing his hand or his cock to satisfy you.

He had to sit down, getting dizzy with all his blood rushing down to his crotch as he continued watching you get off on such a video.

When you let out a frustrated whine, Wooyoung finally decided to slide into your room, taking over as he gently touched the globes of your ass.

"Can't get off on your fingers anymore, can you, sweetpea?" He crooned, massaging your ass cheeks while you whimpered softly and nodded.

"Do you wanna try that out, pretty? Ride your boyfriend's face?"

With the question hanging in the air, Wooyoung stopped groping your ass, gently rubbing the skin instead as he waited for your answer.

"Ye–yeah.. I.. I wanna," you murmured almost shyly, your hand that you were using to finger yourself with retreating to your chest. God, you were cute.

"Then come ride my face."

Having Wooyoung lie down was the easy part. It was the sitting on his face part that kind of scared and turned you on at the same time.

What if you accidentally suffocated him? What if he wouldn't enjoy it? What if—

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your boyfriend gently tapping your outer thigh, looking up at you with lust filled eyes.

"Don't overthink it, pretty, just sit on my face and let me do all the work. I'll help you ride me. Like always."

He grinned, reassuring you whilst gently tugging you down. You were still nervous, but with his gentle coaxing, you managed to finally settle down on him.

Wooyoung groaned at the moment of contact of his mouth to your pussy. He had been waiting literal weeks for it, after being busy with work for so long.

"Fuck—" he groaned against your messy slit. "You're so wet, mnf—"

Flattening his tongue against your cunt, he licked a stripe from your sopping hole to your clit before suckling on the bud.

One of your hands flew to his hair while the other held onto the headboard, trying to support yourself and not put your whole weight on Wooyoung.

As if he could feel you holding back, he pulled you down harder, making you fully sit on his face, making you squeak as he made out messily with your drippy cunt.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you taste so good— you always taste so good, baby.." Wooyoung babbled, his talking muffled as he slurped and covered your mound with spit.

By the time, you had started to feel your orgasm building up, he suddenly stopped, making you whine as you looked down.

"Ride my nose, baby, that's what you wanted, right? I saw that video.. come on, ride my big nose, get off on it, make yourself cum."

Your legs shook as Wooyoung kept encouraging you, your cheeks flushing at the sheer fact that he caught you watching such a video which led you to this position.

Biting your lip, you finally sunk down again, using his nose to make yourself feel good.

Wooyoung helped you find a rhythm, grasping your hips, and rocking them back and forth. It felt.. good. Like you were riding the tip of his cock, but better since you could see how his eyes rolled back and how he panted against your pussy.

Finding a good rhythm and pace, you gained a bit more confidence, gently tugging on his hair and making him groan beautifully.

"Mmn, just like that, sweetheart, ride my nose as if it were my dick.." he grunted, moving one of his hands away from your hips to palm his aching cock in the confines of his jeans.

You felt your orgasm building up with each grind, your clit rubbing against the bridge of his nose, causing soft whiny sighs to come out of you before you finally started to cum.

Wooyoung moved you back to his mouth, so that he could slurp up your juices, and drag your orgasm out by suckling on your pudgy nub.

"That's it, come for me, beautiful—mmngh.."

After what felt like forever, Wooyoung had you in a mating press, eating you out for the nth time. You stopped counting after the third orgasm, and you couldn't handle any more.

"Woo— I can't–" you whined, holding his hand in one whilst pushing his face with your other. Wooyoung pouted as he moved away from your pussy to speak.

"Just one more— one more and I'll stop, and we can eat dinner.. though I've been liking this dessert—okay, ow, ow‐!"

He chuckled when you pinched his cheek in your position, funny how you thought that you were in charge.

"Come on, one more, pretty girl, and I'll cook dinner. What'dya say?" He grinned, making you huff before nodding softly.