#bigbang

Between his fingers, a lit cigarette burned down, a thin trail of gray smoke twisting up into the wind. Jiyong took a long drag, letting the bitter taste of the nicotine ground him. He usually tried to cut back when they were in the middle of a heavy tracking cycle, but his mind had been a chaotic mess since yesterday. He tapped the ash off the end of the cigarette, his jaw tight. He hated how much that tiny, fleeting interaction had bothered him. He was G-Dragon. He didn't get thrown off by a girl's defensive attitude, and he certainly didn't spend his nights tossing and turning over a forgotten hoodie. Yet, no matter how many times he tries to forget, his focus kept snapping back to you.

He took one final drag, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray on the balcony table. Blowing out the remaining smoke, he watched it dissipate into the morning air. He needed to get his head in the game. The album deadline was breathing down their necks, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. With a frustrated sigh, he turned back inside to get dressed for the studio.

He stepped back inside, sliding the glass balcony door shut against the morning chill. The silence of his massive apartment felt unusually heavy today. Moving through the living room, he headed toward the master bedroom to get dressed, but his footsteps slowed down as he approached the armchair.

There it was. The oversized hoodie, draped carelessly over the arm of the chair exactly where he had tossed it yesterday.

He stopped right in front of it, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his silk robe. He hadn't washed it. The logical, clean-freak side of him should have thrown it into the laundry hamper the second he got home. But he hadn't touched it. A strange, quiet wave of anxiety had stopped him last night—an irrational worry that if he ran it through the wash, the faint, sweet scent of you would completely be erased from the fabric.

Jiyong stared at the cotton for a long moment, his jaw tightening as he realized just how ridiculous he was being. Shaking his head at himself, he forced his eyes away from the chair, grabbed a fresh change of clothes, and quickly got ready for the day. He needed to get out of his own head, and the only way to do that was to bury himself in work.

When he arrives at YG building, he expects it to just be him and maybe one or two of the guys. But when he walks up to the door, inside the room seemed louder than usual. Jiyong grips the handle and walks inside, he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he bypassed the lounge area entirely.

The sight of you tangled up with Seunghyun on the leather couch hit him like a splash of cold water. Seeing you in that pink mini skirt, your long legs casually draped over Seunghyun's lap with a careless familiarity, made his jaw tighten so hard his teeth ached.

"Hey," Taeyang murmured from his spot near the vocal booth, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Yo, Ji," Seunghyun added, his deep voice relaxed as his hand rested casually near your knee.

Jiyong gave them a single, tight nod, not breaking his stride. He dropped into the producer's chair, pulling himself against the mixing desk. The massive dual monitors lit up his face in a cool, blue glow as he aggressively navigated the computer. He deliberately kept his back turned to the couch, pulling on a pair of noise-canceling headphones to block out the low murmur of your voice and Seunghyun's deep chuckle.

The sound of your shared laughter finally became too much to bear. What made it cut even deeper was the fact that it was Seunghyun making you laugh like that.

Unable to take another second of it, Jiyong lifted one side of his headphones and spun his chair around to face the two of you. "Don't you have a job or something? Somewhere else you can go?"

Shocked by the sudden venom in his tone, your eyes fluttered in disbelief. You parted your lips to respond, but before you could utter a single word, he cut you off ruthlessly. "Because you're being really fucking distracting."

Seunghyun’s eyebrows instantly furrowed in anger. He sat up straight on the couch, shifting his weight. "Yah! There’s no need to talk to her like that. Come on, man."

Sensing the rapidly escalating tension, Taeyang quickly stepped between them to play peacemaker. "Alright, alright, let's all calm down," he said soothingly, before turning a sympathetic gaze toward you. "Y/n, why don't you head downstairs for a minute and grab something to drink, yeah?"

With tears already welling up in your eyes, you let out a small sniffle. You nodded quickly and left. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Seunghyun turned to Jiyong, his voice laced with disbelief. "What the hell is going on with you lately? It’s like you have a personal hatred for her."

Taeyang moved to step in again, catching onto the real reason behind Jiyong’s explosive mood shift much faster than anyone else. But before Taeyang could speak, Jiyong snapped, throwing a harsh glare in his direction to shut him down.

He then turned his frustration back to Seunghyun. "No, it’s just—she's always here! Like, why? Doesn't she have anywhere else to be? It's fucking distracting!!."

With that final, angry outburst, Jiyong stood up abruptly, ripped the headphones off his head, and slammed them down onto the producer's chair. Without looking back at either of them, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Seunghyun turned to Taeyang, his expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. "What the hell is his problem?" he asked, gesturing toward the empty doorway.

Taeyang just sighed and offered a noncommittal shrug. He knew exactly what was fueling Jiyong’s sudden hostility, but he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his place to tell anyone

Meanwhile, Jiyong pushed through the heavy exit doors and stepped out into the crisp air to clear his head. He pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he lit it, cursing under his breath with every exhale. He just needed a second to breathe.

But as he turned the corner near the building's outdoor food court, the anger completely vanished from his chest, replaced by a sudden sinking feeling. There you were, tucked away at a quiet corner table, silently crying as a half-empty cup of lemonade sat ignored in front of you, the plastic sweating in the morning air.

Jiyong’s heart dropped into his stomach. A wave of guilt hit him so hard it made him sick. He did this. The tears spilling down your face, the tight, hurt posture—it was all because of him. Cursing his own stupidity, he immediately stubbed out the freshly lit cigarette against a nearby bin. He took a step forward, determined to go over to your table, swallow his pride, and apologize for being such an asshole.

But he didn't even get three steps before he froze.

Seunghyun had found you first. Jiyong watched in painful silence as Seunghyun approached the table and immediately wrapped his arms around your small frame. You didn't pull away; instead, you leaned right into him, buried your face into his chest, and let the tears fall. Seunghyun just held you tight, murmuring soft comforts into your hair.

A cold, bitter ache blossomed in Jiyong's chest as he stood hidden in the shadows, completely paralyzed by the view. That should be me, he thought to himself. I should be the one holding her.

You leaned into Seunghyun’s chest, burying your face into his soft sweater.

"Hey, shh, it's okay," Seunghyun murmured, his deep voice vibrating gently against your ear. He kept his large hands securely wrapped around your frame. "Don't cry. He's just being an idiot today."

You sniffled, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your eyes red and blurry from the tears. ''I don't understand, Seunghyun-ah, did I actually do something wrong? I-i didn't mean to mess up his focus."

"No Jagiya, you did nothing wrong," Seunghyun sighed. "Ji is under a lot of pressure with the album deadline''

You looked down at your pink mini skirt, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and exposed under the bright outdoor lights. "Maybe I shouldn't come to the studio anymore," you muttered softly, the humiliation still burning in your chest. "If my being here makes him that angry, it's better if I just stay away."

Seunghyun frowned, shaking his head. "Don't say that. They all adore you and I like having you around. So don't let his bad get to you'' He took a deep breath, looking over your head toward the hallway doors, "Come on. Let’s get you out of the sun. Do you want to go home, or do you want to grab some actual food first?"

You sniffled, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand before looking up at him. "I am kind of hungry," you admitted softly.

Seunghyun smiled. "Alright, let's go," he said, gently guiding you by the shoulder as you both walked off toward the food court.

Afterward, despite Seunghyun’s persistent pleads for you to just ignore Jiyong and come back up to the studio, you couldn't do it. The humiliation was just too heavy. You needed to be anywhere else but that building, so you went straight home.

The quiet hum of your apartment hallway was a relief. Your hands were full, balancing a plastic bag filled with the leftover food from lunch with Seunghyun as you leaned forward to type in your door code. The electronic keypad beeped sharply in the silence, unlocking with a solid click. You pushed the door open with your elbow and let yourself into the empty, quiet sanctuary of your own home, finally able to breathe without the weight of Jiyong's harsh glares pressing down on you.

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes at the entryway and slumped onto your living room sofa, pulling a decorative pillow on your lap. The silence leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. You knew Jiyong didn't trust you , but today felt different. It didn't feel like his usual arrogant judgement. It felt deeply personal, almost like he was desperately trying to push you away before you could get any closer.

The thought of losing your bond with the rest of the guys twisted a tight knot in your stomach. You had truly come to adore them—their easy laughter, the late-night banter, and the effortless way they had welcomed you into their tight-knit world. Jiyong's sudden, explosive freak-out had completely shattered that comfortable energy. You hated the idea of walking on eggshells around the group just because one person couldn't handle his own turbulent emotions.

Your fingers traced the edge of your phone, the screen dark against the couch cushion. For a fleeting second, the urge to fix it took over. You unlocked the screen, staring at Jiyong's name in your contacts, wondering if a direct text might pierce through his armor and make him explain himself. But as the sting of his harsh words echoed in your head, frustration replaced the anxiety. Why should you be the one to smooth things over when he was the one who crossed the line? You slammed the phone back down on the fabric of the sofa, letting out a decisive sigh. If Jiyong wanted to act out because he was drowning in feelings he couldn't control, you weren't going to beg for his approval.

You needed a physical distraction to stop your mind from looping back to Jiyong’s furious expression.

Stepping back into the kitchen, you opened the plastic bag Seunghyun had packed for you. The scent of the savory leftover dishes hit you right away as you methodically transferred the food into glass containers, snap-locking the lids with a series of sharp rhythmic clicks that echoed too loudly in the quiet kitchen. You slotted them into the refrigerator, wiping down the clean countertops twice just to keep moving.

With the kitchen cleaned to your satisfaction, you walked into the bedroom to change out of your outdoor clothes. You pulled on your softest lounge pants and a worn-in sweatshirt, burying yourself in oversized fabric. As the evening light began to purple outside your window, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor, you decided to force yourself into a routine. You put on a kettle for tea, watching the small blue flames of the stove flicker. While the water heated, you moved to the living room window, looking down at the city streets below. The headlights of cars blurred into long streaks of red and white in the gathering dusk. You wondered what the guys were doing right now in the studio.

As your thoughts trialed off, the sharp whistle of the kettle cut through them. You took a deep breath in, inhaling the smooth city air before heading back inside to make your cup. The hot liquid dribbled from the tea pot as you poured the steaming water over a tea bag, holding the warm mug between both hands you carried it back to the couch, pulling your legs up under you and staring at the television remote, debating whether to put on a mindless show. The idea to let the day drift away in cozy tv show marathon sounded actually pleasing, so you reached for the remote and finally switched on the television, the familiar theme song of a show filling the quiet room. With the cup of tea in hand you settled back against the sofa cushions, hoping the background noise would finally drown out the stress of today.

The entire time you didn't pick up your phone once, if Senghyun was worried you weren't responding, he would call. If Jiyong sent you a text message then you didn't even want to give it a second glance, he should apologize in person and thats that. Your phone sat abandoned on the soft sofa across from you as your eyes stayed glued on the TV.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang, hardly heard over the chatter of the screen.

You frowned slightly, glancing over at the entryway. It was slightly odd for anyone to be ringing your bell at this hour. If it was Seunghyun—who was always the most likely candidate to come rushing over—he wouldn't be standing out there waiting. He had your door code memorized and usually just let himself.

Setting the remote down, you pushed yourself off the couch. The floorboards felt cool against your bare feet as you walked toward the door.

Peeking through the peephole, your eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't Seunghyun at all.

It was Daesung. He was standing under the dim hallway light, shifting his weight from foot to foot with a slightly anxious expression. He was wearing an oversized yellow bucket hat pulled low, and in his hands, he was clutching a white plastic convenience store bag. As soon as you pulled the door open, his face instantly transformed. That familiar, bright, golden smile took over his features

"Hey," Daesung said softly. He lifted the plastic bag, giving it a little shake so the contents rattled inside. "I figured you could go for some late night ice cream. Can I come in?''

You let him inside with a polite bow, the heavy weight in your chest lifting just a bit at the sight of his familiar, friendly face.

"I could so go for ice cream right now'' you admitted, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through your somber mood.

Daesung’s own smile widened, his eyes crinkling. He walked past you into the apartment, looking around with genuine interest. "Wow, your place is really nice," he complimented as he padded over to the kitchen counter. He set the plastic bag down and immediately started unpacking the cold containers. "So, Seunghyun-hyung told me your favorite flavor is strawberry? Is that right?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, great!" Daesung beamed.

You walked around him, reaching into the upper cabinet to grab two ceramic bowls and two spoons for the ice cream. As you set them down, you decided to strike up some small talk, keeping your voice casual despite the late hour. "Not that I'm not incredibly happy to see you, but what are you doing here so late?"

Daesung’s bright expression softened, he leaned against the counter, watching you handle the spoons. "I felt awful for what happened earlier, Jiyong-hyung was way out of line today. And when he yells... it’s always shattering, you know? He doesn’t do it often, so when he does, it just hits everybody hard. Honestly, ice cream is the absolute best solution for this type of stuff."

A rush of gratitude washed over you. You smiled, scooping the vibrant pink strawberry ice cream into your bowl and his. ''That's very thoughtful of you, oppa''

After scooping, you opened the freezer, sliding the remaining tubs safely inside to keep them from melting. Holding your bowl, you gestured toward the glass doors at the back of the living room. "Do you want to sit out on the patio? It's really nice out tonight."

"It's gorgeous out, so why not?" Daesung agreed, picking up his own bowl.

You slid the glass door open, letting the cool night breeze brush against your skin. Together, the two of you walked out onto the balcony. The city stretched out before you, a vast blanket of twinkling lights. You both stepped up to the railing, leaning your forearms against the cool metal, comfortably eating your ice cream.

Daesung took a bite of his ice cream, watching the city lights for a second before a grin broke across his face. He turned his body towards you before talking.

"You know, Jiyong tries so hard to maintain this untouchable, perfectionist image," Daesung started, chuckling softly. "But he's really not the hard-ass he makes himself out to be. He can be incredibly ridiculous."

You looked over at him, curious.

"We were on tour a few years ago," Daesung explained, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he recalled the memory. "We were all exhausted, staying in this hotel, and Jiyong was taking forever in the bathroom. So, Taeyang decided to play a prank. He sneaks into the bathroom while Jiyong is in the shower, completely silent, and just waits. The second Jiyong slides the glass door open, wiping the steam from his eyes, Youngbae snaps a photo with the flash blinding him."

You blinked, trying to process the mental image.

"Oh, it was hilarious," Daesung laughed, shaking his head. "Jiyong lost his mind. He came bursting out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, dripping water all over the carpet. He was just screaming at the top of his lungs, chasing Youngbae around the sofa, begging for the photo to be deleted immediately. He looked so absurd''

You chuckled softly at the imagery, the tight lines of your face finally softening. But as the laughter died down, you looked back out at the glowing skyline. It was funny, sure, but after the ice-cold fury you had faced in the studio earlier, it felt impossible to bridge the gap between that human version of him and the man who had just humiliated you.

"I believe you," you murmured quietly, staring down at your bowl. "But... it’s just really hard to picture him not being an ass'' Your face bled pink, immediately regretting what you said, you quickly cover your mouth and whisper, ''Sorry..''

Daesung’s laughter grew louder at your comment, "No, I get it. And I know it's hard to picture it. But believe me, this angry defensive guy you saw today? This isn't the real him. He's just... obviously dealing with something right now. I really hope one day you get to see that side of him, too. Because when he actually lets someone in, he cares louder than anyone I know."

You let out a soft sigh, the cool night breeze fluttering your hair as you stared down at the swirling pink ice cream in your bowl.

"I hope I get to see that one day too," you murmured before taking another bite, "It’s just... I know it’s me. And I really don’t want to cause an issue within the group, you know? I just—I wish he trusted me."

Daesung took another bite of his own ice cream, chewing thoughtfully as he looked out over the glowing city skyline.

"I truly believe it’s not that he dislikes you as a person," Daesung offered gently, trying to piece it together himself. "I do think he doesn't trust you, but only because you're friends with his best friend. He’s protecting Seunghyun-hyung. I just wish he wasn’t so harsh with you about it."

Daesung paused, a sudden bewildered laugh bubbling up from his chest before he continued. "I mean... he was way less cruel to other girls Seunghyun-hyung has dated in the past, so it’s a little confusing." He shook his head with a small smile and went back to eating his ice cream, seemingly dismissing it as just another one of Jiyong's unpredictable quirks.

But you froze, your spoon stopping halfway to your mouth.

You stared out at the twinkling high-rise buildings, Daesung's words echoing loudly in your mind. He was less cruel to girls Seunghyun has dated.

You thought about that for a long second, a strange, prickling sensation rising up the back of your neck. If Jiyong's intense hostility was strictly about protecting his best friend, he would treat you the exact same way he treated all the others—or at least with the same detached, protective caution. He wouldn't be this wildly volatile, this was intensely personal and it didn't add up. Why would he be so much more awful to you if it was just about protecting Seunghyun?

You let out a soft sigh, letting the confusing puzzle of Kwon Jiyong fade out into the dark night sky. Turning your attention back to the glowing cityscape, you took another bite of your ice cream.

The rest of the night with Daesung passed smoothly. Neither of you realized just how late it was getting, you simply found deep comfort in each other’s presence. Daesung was incredibly sweet and understanding. He just let you rant, venting out all the built-up frustration from the afternoon, but he always countered your worries with comforting words and gentle solutions. When you hesitantly offered to just step back from the group entirely to keep the peace, he strongly disagreed, refusing to let Jiyong's mood drive you away. It was a beautiful, healing kind of validation, and it was exactly what you needed tonight.

By the time the strawberry tub was half finished and the night grew noticeably colder, Daesung finally had to leave. Before he did, he insisted on stepping up to the sink to wash both of your bowls and spoons.

"Yah! Oppa, you don't have to do that," you protested, trying to nudge him away from the faucet. "You bought the ice cream, the least I can do is the dishes."

Daesung just waved a soapy hand at you, "Don't worry about it! I don't want to keep you up any longer. You should head straight to bed right after I leave, not stay up cleaning. It's late."

You shook your head with a fond smile, watching him finish up the quick chore before walking him to the entryway. You wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. "Goodnight, Oppa. Get home safe."

"Thanks, Y/n'" he replied gently, patting your shoulder. "You sleep well. Don't let your thoughts get to you tonight, okay?"

With one last reassuring smile, he stepped out, and you clicked the door locked behind him. The moment the lock snapped into place, a massive yawn caught you off guard. Rubbing your eyes, you muttered to yourself, "Damn... I really am tired."

You padded through the quiet apartment, shutting off the lights one by one and making sure the patio doors were locked down tight. After shuffling into the bathroom to brush your teeth, you finally plop down into bed. The absolute second your head hit the pillow, you drifted off into a deep sleep. The perfect combination of the cool night air in your bedroom and the warm weight of your blankets sent you off peacefully.

But the peace didn't last.

As the hours ticked by, your sleep fractured, and your dreams twisted into something vivid and awful. In the dream, you were standing right back in the center of the studio. Jiyong was towering over you, his voice booming as he continued to yell. But this time, none of the other guys moved to defend you. All three of them just sat on the couches, watching you with cold, uncharacteristic disgust.

Taeyang was the first to speak, his voice flat and detached. "Yeah... I think it's best if you leave, Y/n."

Daesung slowly nodded his head in agreement, his usual warmth entirely gone. Your heart shattered as Seunghyun suddenly stood up, gripping your arm firmly and leading you out into the hallway.

When you were out of the room, Seunghyun let go, looking down at you. "I don't think this is going to work out anymore."

Tears blurred your vision in the dream, your voice cracking as you stuttered, "Wait, why? I—I'll be more quiet. Please don't shut me out."

"I'm sorry. It was nice knowing you,"  Seunghyun said coldly, stepping back and slamming the heavy door right in your face.

"No!" you screamed out.

The force of your own voice jolted you awake. You sat straight up in bed, your chest heaving as you panted heavily, your skin completely slick with sweat. You stared into the dark corners of your bedroom, trying to process the nightmare.

"What the fuck..." you whispered to yourself as you tried to catch your breath.

Needing to shake the residual weight of the dream, you swung your legs out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. You turned on the tap and splashed freezing cold water over your face. The icy shock was an instant relief, shocking your system back to reality. Leaning against the sink, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, letting out a breath of pure thankfulness that it had just been a bad dream.

But just as you reached out to shut off the bathroom light and head back to bed, the sudden chime of your doorbell rang through the apartment.

You froze, your hand hovering over the light switch. A sudden wave of genuine concern replaced the lingering traces of your nightmare. Shuffling back into the bedroom, you grabbed your phone off the nightstand. The glowing screen read exactly 4:00 AM.

Who the hell would be at my door at four in the morning? you whispered frantically to yourself.

Instinct taking over, you reached into your bedside drawer and gripped the familiar weight of your pocket knife. Keeping the apartment completely dark, you crept silently across the hardwood floor toward the entryway. Just as you reached the hallway, the doorbell rang a second time, the sound piercing the silence.

Holding your breath, you leaned forward and pressed your eye against the tiny glass of the peephole.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Standing under the dim, buzzing hallway light was Jiyong. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, his shoulder propping him up as if standing completely upright took too much effort. His signature black hair was in absolute disarray, falling wildly over his eyes, and the top buttons of his shirt were completely undone, exposing the pale skin of his collarbone. He looked utterly exhausted and completely vulnerable.

You let out a soft sigh, slipping the pocket knife safely into your waistband. You reached out and clicked on the dim hallway light before finally unlocking and drawing the door open.

Jiyong slowly looked up at you, his eyes foggy and distant, his black hair hanging down in thick, unruly strands right in front of his face.

"Jiyong," you said, your voice a mixture of shock and quiet concern. "What are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?"

The moment you took a proper look at him, your maternal instincts kicked in right away. You immediately reached out and ushered him inside, your hands brushing against his shoulders. "You must be so cold. Is it raining out?"

His clothes were noticeably damp, the wet fabric sticking stubbornly to his skin. Jiyong stumbled past you into the entryway, his movements heavy and uncoordinated. He was obviously very drunk. As he turned his head to speak the unmistakable smell of liquor rushed over you.

"I—I needed to see you, Y/n," he stammered.

You quickly closed the door behind him, locking out the freezing air and followed close behind him to make sure he didn't lose his footing. Jiyong looked around the dark apartment for a second, his foggy gaze drifting from the walls to the kitchen, getting entirely distracted.

"Wow... you—you have a really nice place," he said, his words slurring heavily together. He let out a breathless, unfocused chuckle. "I don't know how I haven't noticed it before."

You gently caught his arm, steering his swaying frame toward the living room. "Here, here... sit down," you urged, guiding him onto the soft cushions of the couch. "Why don't I make you a cup of tea? I really don't want you getting sick."

You rushed straight into the kitchen and put a fresh pot on the stove. Despite the deep anger and humiliation you were still harboring from his cruel behavior earlier that afternoon, you couldn't just leave him like this. He was still Seunghyun’s best friend. While you waited for the pot to heat, Jiyong continued to sit on the couch, aimlessly mumbling nonsensical compliments about your apartment. You grabbed a clean dry towel from the drawer and walked back over to him. Kneeling slightly in front of him, you began to gently wipe the dampness from his face and neck so he wouldn't catch a cold.

"Gosh, you're soaked," you fretted softly, moving the towel through his messy hair. "Do—do you want to borrow something dry? I think I might actually have a few of Seunghyun's old shirts left here."

The mention of his best friend seemed to pierce through his drunken haze. Jiyong’s hand shot out, his fingers surprisingly warm as they wrapped gently around your wrist. He slowly removed your hand from his face, holding your wrist in the space between you.

"No, no," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Don't care for me. I—I don't deserve it."

You let out a gentle sigh, looking at him. "Oppa, just because we don't like each other doesn't mean I can't care for you."

You gently disengaged your hand and went right back to wiping his damp skin, smoothing the towel down his neck. Jiyong’s brown eyes softened completely, the hard, defensive glare he usually gave you entirely vanishing. He just held your gaze, staring up at you with an intensity that made your heart beat faster. He scoffed a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

"Yeah... that’s the thing, isn’t it?" he murmured.

Then, his expression softened deeper into something you had never seen from him before. The cold, untouchable 'G-Dragon' armor was completely gone. In its place was a raw, deeply hidden vulnerability—the exact side of him Daesung had promised you existed.

A sudden wave of goosebumps broke out across your skin. The sheer weight of his gaze was overwhelming, and you quickly tried to avoid his eyes, focusing entirely on tracing the towel along his neck. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with him, it was that you were desperately trying to avoid the electric feeling that sparked in your chest every single time you looked right back at him.

The silence lasted for only a few seconds, but it felt like absolute minutes under his intense stare. Fortunately, the teapot suddenly whistled from the kitchen.

"I—uh, better go get that," you stammered, pulling your hand away.

You hurried back to the kitchen trying to steady your racing heart as you grabbed two ceramic cups, filling them both to the brim with the steaming fragrant tea. Before walking back into the living room, you stopped by the counter and took a deep, centering breath.

You walked back over to the couch, sat down directly beside him, and handed him one of the warm mugs. "Here. Drink this."

"Thank you," he muttered, his fingers brushing yours as he took the cup and took a long, desperate sip of the hot liquid.

You took a small sip of your own tea, before looking over at him. "Geez, Oppa... how much have you had to drink tonight?"

Jiyong slowly set his cup down on the coffee table. He ran his ringed fingers through his messy black hair, pushing the strands back from his face before letting out a rough sigh. "Not enough."

"Were you with the guys?" you asked, a sudden wave of worry hitting you. "Do—do they know where you are? They must be worried sick. I can call Seunghyun and—"

You began to push yourself up from the couch to grab your phone, but Jiyong’s hand moved instantly. His fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"No," he pleaded softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "Please don't."

Without saying another word, you slowly sank back down onto the cushions beside him.

"Just sit here with me... please," Jiyong whispered.

The quiet, desperate plea made your heart break into two. In the short time you had known him, you never in a million years thought he would ever plead for your presence—especially not after he had just screamed at you to leave his sight hours prior. Yet, looking at him now, you couldn't say no. You simply nodded your head, staying right where you were.

Jiyong took another slow sip of his tea, staring into the dark amber liquid. "I drank alone. The guys weren't with me. I—I'm sure they're doing something productive, but I... I just needed a break." He let out a ragged sigh.

You nodded understandingly, "Ah, yes. From work?"

Jiyong drunkenly shook his head, a sad, humorless smile touching his lips. "No. From my mind. I needed to shut off the thoughts, you know? You ever get like that?"

You stared down at your hands, a wave of empathy washing over you. "All the time," you whispered.

Jiyong leaned his head back against the sofa cushions. "And... and it worked for a bit. But then, I was about to head to the car—"

"Not to drive, right?'' you interrupted sharply, your eyes widening in sudden panic.

Jiyong dramatically shook his head again, waving a dismissive hand. "No, no. Jaeho was driving. But... then, across the street from the bar, there was this clothing store. And on display in the window... was that same fucking skirt you were wearing when we had dinner."

You blinked, your voice dropping to a breathless whisper. "When I first met you?"

Jiyong nodded his head a third time, his eyes locked onto yours, completely transparent in his drunken state. "And I just... I couldn't shut up the thoughts anymore. So I came here. I—I wanted to apologize."

Your eyes softened completely, the last remnants of your anger melting away as a gentle smile touched your lips. "Oh, Jiyong... that means a lot. Thank you." A nervous laugh followed after "Honestly... I thought you hated me."

Jiyong’s expression shifted as he spoke softly, the words carried a heavy undeniable truth. "No," he whispered, "I could never."

You looked straight into his brown eyes, the sudden silence falling over the apartment like a heavy blanket. But it wasn't the awkward, painful silence from the studio. This was a thick tension—the kind born from a truth that neither of you could put into words, charging the narrow space between you until the air felt heavy enough to break.

His eyes flicked down to your lips before rushing back up to your eyes, and before you could even register the movement, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was sudden, unexpected, and incredibly warm. Jiyong’s large hand slid to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide the kiss, pulling you closer. It felt desperate and full of a deep, aching longing—as if this was exactly what he had been starving to do all this time. Naturally, your body completely betrayed your mind, and you sank right into him. You weren’t sure why, and it was a thought that you knew would keep you awake for nights to come, but right then, your body felt like total liquid. All you could hear in the quiet apartment was the ragged sound of both of your breaths.

But it wasn't long before reality violently crashed back in. You realized exactly what you were doing, who you were kissing, and the sheer chaos of the situation.

You quickly pulled away from him, your palm pressing against his chest to create space. "Woah... Ji, I- cant'' You sighed before continuing, '' I think you've had way too much to dr—"

"I like you," Jiyong cut you off quickly.

The weight of those three words wrapped around you like a vice. He stared at you, completely raw. "I—I like you, Y/n. Shit, probably love you at this point."

He abruptly stood up from the couch, his long legs pacing the narrow space as he ran his hands through his messy black hair again. "I—I can't get you out of my head. Ever since we met... you're all I think about," he whispered, his voice trembling under the gravity of his own confession.

You sat there, completely frozen, having no idea what to say or what to do. The realization hit you all at once, shattering the puzzle pieces of the last few weeks into perfect clarity. His anger, his defensive walls, his volatile mood swings—it all made sense now. He wasn't trying to protect Seunghyun from you; he was trying to protect himself from his own feelings.

Slowly, you stood up with him, your mind racing a million miles an hour. Could this all just be part of his drunken haze? Would he even remember this tomorrow? And oh my god, Seunghyun. What would his best friend think if he ever found out about this? You were panicked, stunned, and completely out of words.

Trying to anchor your soaring emotions, you spoke softly. "Jiyong, I really think you're just drunk....you don't what you're saying ok? Maybe- maybe it's time for you to go home''

You forced a gentle, compassionate smile onto your face to soften the rejection. Jiyong searched your eyes for a long, quiet moment, desperately hunting for any hidden signs of regret. Finding none in your panicked expression, he gave a single, hollow nod.

"Um, right," he muttered, the sudden awkwardness turning the air ice-cold. He reached up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as the defensive walls began to slam back up. "I better get some sleep."

You quietly walked him to the door, the silence between you tense. As you both stood there at the threshold, the cool air of the hallway bleeding into your apartment, Jiyong cleared his throat.

"Thanks for the tea, Y/n," he said softly

"Of course," you replied

He offered you a small strained smile before turning around and walking down the dim hallway. You watched him go for a second before closing the door, the lock clicking into place with a definitive snap. The second he was gone, the strength left your legs. You leaned the back of your neck against the cool wood of the door staring blankly into your dark apartment. You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the absolute madness of the last ten minutes.

Clutching your face in your hands, you whispered to the empty room, "What the. fuck."