#bigbang fluff

He gave you a small nod before walking off, and as simple as it was, his words stuck with you.

That night, you performed like your life depended on it. And when you came off stage, the first person you made eye contact with was him. He was watching, smiling, and clapping.

That was the beginning.

Award Shows & Hidden Conversations

As 2NE1’s success skyrocketed, your interactions with G-Dragon became more frequent. YG Family was close, and between overlapping schedules, joint performances, and year-end award shows, you found yourself in his orbit often.

One of the most memorable moments happened at an MAMA Awards show.

2NE1 and BIGBANG were seated at the same table, and cameras frequently cut to your reactions throughout the night. You were mindful of your expressions, but whenever something funny happened on stage, you and Jiyong would instinctively glance at each other.

It was a game you two had—sharing silent conversations across the room.

When 2NE1 was announced as the Best Female Group, the entire YG table erupted in cheers, but your eyes sought out Jiyong’s first. He grinned at you, clapping enthusiastically, and as you walked past him to get to the stage, he leaned in ever so slightly and murmured,

“Told you you had that fire.”

You almost tripped in your heels.

Later that night, while waiting for the encore stage, you found yourself standing next to him backstage. The two of you watched as idols from different companies congratulated each other, some exchanging polite bows, others hugging excitedly.

“You should enjoy this more,” Jiyong suddenly said.

You tilted your head. “I am enjoying it.”

He smirked. “No, I mean… let yourself have fun. Don’t get so caught up in the pressure.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re G-Dragon. You own the stage.”

For a second, something shifted in his expression. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, CL called for you, and just like that, the moment was gone.

But it lingered in your mind for a long time after.

Interviews & Subtle Flirting

The industry started noticing the way you and G-Dragon interacted.

During a variety show appearance, a segment about ideal types came up. One of the MCs jokingly asked,

“YG artists are close, right? Have you ever had a crush on someone from your company?”

Your members laughed and teased each other, but you only smiled and took a sip of water.

Then, the MC turned to Jiyong, who was also a guest on the show.

“How about you, GD? Anyone from YG catch your eye?”

The question was innocent, but the moment it was asked, you felt CL and Dara subtly glance at you. Trying to stay composed, you kept your expression neutral.

Jiyong smirked. “YG has a lot of talented people. Hard not to be impressed.”

The MCs weren’t satisfied. “Come on, give us a name!”

He tapped his chin playfully, pretending to think. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, “Well, I’ve always thought someone with… a strong stage presence and great energy is attractive.”

It was vague enough to be safe, but everyone at the table knew who he meant.

Your members giggled, nudging you, while you simply rolled your eyes and tried to focus on your drink. But the warmth on your cheeks betrayed you.

Shared Stages, Shared Feelings

Things escalated during a YG Family Concert.

For a special collaboration stage, you were paired with G-Dragon for a remix of one of his solo songs.

Rehearsals were fun—he was playful, always finding ways to make you laugh. He’d tease you about your dance moves, challenge you to freestyle battles, and even joke about how you were too serious about nailing the performance.

“If we mess up, just blame it on me,” he’d say. “I’m used to taking the heat.”

But when the real performance happened, the atmosphere changed.

There was something different in the way he looked at you under the stage lights, the way his hand lingered on your waist a second too long, the way your voices blended effortlessly.

Fans noticed. Your members noticed. Even YG himself raised an eyebrow.

And after the show, when you found yourselves alone in the hallway, catching your breath, Jiyong simply looked at you and smirked.

“That was fun.”

You exhaled, still processing everything. “Yeah… it was.”

He tilted his head. “You’re thinking too much again.”

You shot him a look. “You always say that.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Because it’s true.”

And just like that, he walked off, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding.

Late-Night Conversations & Quiet Confessions

The more time passed, the more stolen moments you two shared.

Late-night studio visits where he’d play you unreleased tracks and ask for your opinion. Messages exchanged between busy schedules. Inside jokes whispered during interviews.

One night, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, you found yourself on the YG rooftop, staring at the city skyline. The air was cool, and without thinking, he draped his jacket over your shoulders.

“You ever think about what comes after all this?” he asked.

You glanced at him. “Sometimes. But I don’t know if I want to imagine a future without music.”

He smiled, nodding. “Same. But lately… I think I’d want a future with someone who understands it, too.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe he wasn’t just talking about music anymore.

The Beginning of Something More

There was no dramatic confession. No grand gestures.

Just stolen glances, quiet conversations, and a slow realization that somewhere along the way, between concerts, award shows, and late-night talks, you had fallen for each other.

----------------

I am crying when Jiyong picks up.

“He broke up with me!”

No hellos. At first, no reaction either. Just silence on the other end while my blurry vision scans the rainy street in front of the dark, lonely bus stop where I sit.

“What? Weren’t you having dinner with his parents tonight?”

“I thought so too.” My voice almost hiccups from crying. “But then he showed up alone and told me we should take a break because he needs to grow emotionally instead.”

Ji curses under his breath. Apparently, he finds that reason just as pretentious as I do. When the words came out of my (now) ex’s mouth, I thought it was a joke for a second. His face said otherwise.

“What a… fuckface.” That’s one way to put it. “Where are you now?”

“I… I bought wine and gummy worms and a new vacuum cleaner and now I am sitting with all that in a bus stop and…”

“Okay, what… why… why did you buy a… ah, whatever. You want to come over?”

Obviously, I want to come over. That is why I called. That is why I always call.

It’s not like we only see each other when my heart breaks; Jiyong and I have been friends since our early twenties. We’ve shared the good times, even had a joint birthday party or two. Group vacations. If he weren’t usually busy being a superstar, I’d say he’s my best friend. Well… no, he is my best friend.

But I definitely always do call him when I get my heart broken. He’s nice to me, he has cats to cuddle and that huge bathtub in his apartment. It’s just good being around him when I feel bad. Everyone should have a comfort-Jiyong. And did I mention the huge bathtub?

“Yeah, is that okay?” I still ask and he scoffs, because it's a stupid question and hangs up. Rude?

I get an Uber. The driver looks a little confused at the mascara-stained woman with a vacuum cleaner box on her lap, headed to Hannam. He doesn’t ask. I lean back dramatically and stare out at the lights flashing past. 

A bit later, I kick Ji’s door with my foot because my hands are full. Half with the box and the grocery bag of cheap wine and candy, half with my pride in shreds. Jiyong stares like I’ve tracked mud into his spotless apartment, which I probably have. His hair is messy in a way that says he didn’t plan for company, but I don’t care.

“You look like hell.” he says.

“I look like a woman scorned.” I kick off my shoes, shuffle past him and collapse on the couch. The cats follow me like I’m a human jungle gym, climbing onto my lap before I can even open the wine. “Your children missed me.”

“They like whoever feeds them.” He sets the bag on the table, pulls out the wine and raises a brow. “You brought screw-top Merlot. Truly the taste of heartbreak. I have better stuff here?”

“Don’t mock me in my time of suffering. And of course I couldn’t come empty-handed.” He scoffs again. I always invite myself over and pretend cheap wine makes us even. And then we usually drink his expensive stuff. Not sure what happens to my bottles actually.

I hold out my hands. “Pour it, servant.”

He ignores me, twists the cap and takes the first swig himself, straight from the bottle. I gasp like he just stole my firstborn.

“I needed that.” he groans, but when I reach for it, he lifts it higher.

“You’re supposed to comfort me.”

“I am comforting you. By saving you from drinking this.” Still, he hands it over. I take a huge sip. It’s gross. When I finally come up for air, he asks “So what did this one do?”

I fling myself dramatically against the couch cushion. “He was nobody’s son.”

Jiyong blinks. “And what the hell does that mean?”

“It means he was pretty, charming, sweet and absolutely allergic to commitment. It means I wasted six months on another guy who only wanted the honeymoon phase, but didn’t bother to tell me.”

“You mean he was an asshole.”

“Yes, thank you, Detective Obvious.” I pat Zoa, bury my face in her fur and mumble, “I just want someone who’ll love me forever. Is that so much to ask?”

From the corner of my eye, I see Ji watching me. Not laughing. Not teasing. Just watching with that unreadable expression he gets sometimes, like he knows something I don’t.

I swirl the bottle, watching the cheap red slosh. “He told me he was busy. All the time. Business trips, late nights, family dinners. Turns out…” I tip the bottle toward Jiyong like it’s a mic and pretend to be a game show host when I reveal the answer to it all. “…he was busy dating two other women. At the same time. Like a fucking group project.”

Jiyong freezes halfway into sitting down beside me. “You’re joking.”

“I wish.” I laugh, but it comes out cracked. “One of them DM’d me. Sent screenshots. Said she felt sorry for me. I confronted him and he said he didn’t realise we were THAT exclusive. For some reason, I said whatever, as long as from now on I’m the only one.” I look down, embarrassed. I do believe everyone should live the relationship model they want, but this was bullshit. We had talked about being exclusive when we… became exclusive? I knew he was lying, but I was sad and decided to turn a blind eye. “Et voilà. A couple of days later and he already decided I’m not enough. ‘Needs to grow emotionally’, my ass.” Even now I am aware this is probably for the best… But he could have done it in a way that didn’t make me feel like I am the problem. Like I am too much and not enough at the same time.

Ji’s jaw tightens, sharp as glass. “Where is he now?”

I blink. “Why?”

“So I can have him buried in the mountains.”

Despite myself, I grin. “So you kill people now?”

Ji shrugs, ruffling his hair. “I wouldn’t get caught. Or at least the people I would pay wouldn’t get caught.” His eyes flick to me, the muscle in his cheek jumps. “He strung you along for months. Lied to your face. Made you think you were crazy for wanting more. Do you know how much I want to kill him right now?”

“Aw.” I coo, reaching out with the bottle like I might toast him. “You love me.”

Jiyong’s face twitches. “I do, which is why I’m angry.” He leans forward. “Why do you keep letting men like that near you?”

The smile fades. My heart sinks. “Excuse me?”

“You fall for the same type every single time. Pretty face, smooth lines, a little mystery and you jump headfirst like you’ve never been burned before. The next one will be different, sure. One was a chaebol heir, one was American, one was a lawyer. But inside they were all shit.”

I sit up, indignant. “So this is my fault now?”

“I didn’t say that.” His voice is tight, rising. “I’m saying you need to be more careful. You say you want something real, but you’re not even looking in the right direction.”

I shove the cat off my lap and set the bottle down too hard. “Thanks, Ji. Really supportive.” My voice a bit shriller than I would have liked it to be.

He drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I am supportive. I’ve been supportive for years. I’ve been here every time some idiot breaks your heart. Do you know how insane it drives me to watch you cry over men who don’t even deserve to know your name?”

The mood shifts. We always banter, sure. But this is different. He’s not play-annoyed. He’s actually annoyed. And it hurts.

My throat tightens. I fight it. “You think I like this? You think I enjoy getting wrecked every few months? I want something serious, Ji. I want flowers, anniversaries, a family one day. I want someone who stays and is crazy about me. It’s not like I’m asking for the moon.”

“You say that, but your actions don’t match.” His voice is sharp, almost a shout. “If you really wanted that, you wouldn’t keep choosing men who run at the first sign of responsibility.”

I push to my feet, heat flooding my face. So that’s what he thinks? Really thinks? That I’m some masochist who’d rather get my heart broken than date for real? Fuck him. Also: “And where the hell are these men you think I’m supposed to find, oh wise rapper GD? Point them out, please. I’ll go get one right now.”

At some point, he’s stood too. The air between us is heavy. His jaw flexes. We haven’t fought like this since the New Year’s fiasco in 2015. Then he jabs a finger at his own chest.

“Here. Right here. Open your damn eyes.”

I blink at him, stunned. “Very funny.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” His voice is low, rough. “You want someone who’ll stay? Who’ll give you family and flowers and big gestures? I would. I’d give you all of it. I’d love to make you happy. I’d love to have children with you.” His mouth twists into something like a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’d even enjoy the process.”

My heart stumbles. “Oh fuck off… you’re crazy.”

“No. I’m not.” His frustration is all over him: eyes sharp, shoulders tense, hands restless. “I’m just a good man you refuse to see. Because you’re too busy chasing idiots. And I would know… I used to be the biggest idiot. Still am often, actually. But not with you. For you, I’d be good.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. My pulse is thundering in my ears.

I grab my bag, because if I don’t leave right now, I’ll say something I can’t take back. “I need air.” I mutter, pushing past him. He doesn’t stop me.

…but outside, there’s not enough air to erase what I just heard.

“Clearly he’s doing harder drugs now.” I mutter in an Uber a couple of minutes later, even though he seemed perfectly sober. He was wearing pyjamas. Who does hard drugs in pyjamas? Ah, what do I know.

“What? Who is?” The cabbie looks confused, which is fair. These are the first words I’ve said to him.

“My best friend. Who just told me he wants to start a family with me. He must be using.”

Silence.

“Or… he wants to start a family with you?” the guy offers. I shoot him an evil look. He has a two-star rating coming his way.

At home, I sit by the window and feel like crying.

What the fuck happened tonight. Over the next couple of days, I try to convince myself he didn’t mean it. He MUST not have meant it. Maybe he was speaking figuratively. Like… good men like him. Not him. It’s not that I never thought about it, of course. Considering these things, especially when meeting someone new, is normal, right? And we even kissed once. Or twice?  But it was a dare when we got drunk and we were basically babies. Okay, maybe twenty-four, but I can barely remember it and we never talked about it again and… well… does it even count if it’s been so long?

I don’t text him. And he doesn’t text me either. A week later, while I’m at work, my phone finally buzzes.

Jiyong: Your vacuum cleaner is still here. Should I let someone bring it over to you?

----------------------------------------------------------------

JIYONG

Break-up no. 12 – Two years ago

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help with the move.” I say, collapsing a box of kitchen utensils.

She takes it and drops it with the others. “I mean… you are right now, right?”

I shrug, then nod. “Well, yeah, but you know what I mean…”

She waves it off. “You were busy abroad, I get it. Also… what would that have looked like? You? Signing autographs in front of my ex’s apartment instead of helping?”

She touches my arm, teasing like I couldn’t carry much anyway. I swat her hand away and grab a heavy stack of plates, trying to lift it to the highest shelf like it’s effortless. It’s not, but my ego needs it.

She’s right, of course. Still, I’m here now.

Even I thought this relationship might last. After my usual jealous streak when she found someone new, I admitted the guy seemed decent. Should’ve known something was off. Tax evasion on the level of jail time? New. Cheating on her with his lawyer? That’s a new record, even for her. She’s so fucking unlucky with men, my god.

“Still, thanks for always being there, Ji. I promise the next one will be the last. So you won’t have to pick up the pieces again.”

I can’t help smiling at her. She still believes in the next one. The one true love. It’s always the next person she dates. She’s a hopeless romantic and after all the shit she’s been through, I admire her for it.

Break-up no. 7 – Five years ago

“And so… basically… It’s a good thing.” She says it like she almost believes it. I don’t, but who cares. My job is to listen. “I can finally concentrate on what’s important.”

We’re at a bar. She looks incredible, hair freshly cut, outfit perfectly styled. She needs to believe she’s fine with the breakup. And even though I told her he was bad news from the start, I can’t gloat. At least she isn’t crying or drunk. This could still be a good night.

“Good, I’m glad. Whatever makes you happy.” I smile at her.

She scans my face, suspicious, but I just keep smiling and nudge the shared starter platter toward her. She takes some, then looks down. Her shoulders sink and my heart cracks.

Of course, she has priorities outside her love life. But I know her. Her number one priority has always been love. Lover girl. I relate.

“Man, I can already tell this will be good for you. You’re glowing. You look so good tonight.” I blurt it out without thinking, just trying to make her feel better.

She looks up again, smiling, beaming almost. Exactly what she needed to hear.

I’m getting too good at this.

Break-up no. 1 – Seven years ago, four months after they met

She calls me in the middle of the night. If I’m honest, I half-hope it’s a drunk booty call. Instead, she’s crying so hard she can barely talk. Eventually, I get a location out of her. Not far, but it’s pouring, a Saturday night, people everywhere. I throw on a hoodie and a mask and hurry there.

I find her sitting on the sidewalk, clutching a soju bottle in each hand. Pathetic, but also a little funny.

“Aish… what’s going on, it can’t be that bad…”

She looks up, face a mess, lets the bottles drop and raises her arm like a toddler who wants to be picked up. I can’t lift her, but I can sit beside her and wrap my arms around her.

“What happened?”

“He… he left me and I didn’t know who else to call…”

Her head is on my shoulder, soaking it with tears.

Let’s be honest. I’m not used to being friend-zoned this hard. When we met a few months ago, I flirted. She thought I was joking, laughed, kept telling me about her boyfriend. The guy’s good-looking, sure, but I’m cooler. Didn’t matter. To her, I was the party buddy. Then the hangover buddy. Now? The emergency-contact buddy. A “good friend.”

Not sure I’m comfortable with that.

But her sobs are loud, people stare and my heart hurts because hers does.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine, little one.” I say it softly, because I know how it feels. I just show it differently. Less crying, more angry lyrics.

“No, it won’t. I’ll never be happy again. There’s no one like him.”

I almost laugh. She’s so dramatic and I always liked that about her. That night we met at the club, she told me to remember her face, because meeting her would soon be one of my most cherished memories. I laughed, asked why and she just said Watch me, downed two shots and did the dumbest little dance under purple and yellow lights. Just ran straight to the by that time of the night emptied dance floor. No skill, no sex appeal, just pure fun. She indeed was unforgettable.

I think I fell for her right then and there.

So I hug her tighter, swaying. “Ah, bullshit. There are a million guys for you. All with great hair, dumb jokes, amazing in bed. It’s good he’s gone - you wouldn’t meet them if he was still around.”

She laughs a little, then cries again. But that’s okay. I’ll hold her until she stops.

I think I’ve been in love with her since that stupid dance. But she doesn’t love me back and being her friend is the next best thing.

HER

Two weeks later, I go to pick up the vacuum. It’s the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other, I guess. When he’s on tour, I sometimes don’t see him for months, but that feels different. I still get sleepy voice notes and cat pictures from his housekeeper. I’ve even hung out at his place when he wasn’t home - he thought it was weird, but I told him the cats shouldn’t be abandoned by me just because he did.

Every day, I had moments where I thought, I need to tell Jiyong about this. But I didn’t. It’s awkward. We both know it.

I’m low-key sweating in the elevator.

And then… It’s fine. Weird and different, but fine. He pretends nothing ever happened, so I do too. We chat. He tells me what he’s been up to. We eat ramen. I go home. Not how we usually are, but maybe we just needed to shake it off.

The next morning, I still feel weird. I miss my friend. I miss Ji.

My brain keeps circling. Maybe he only said it to prove a point. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe he lost his mind. But sometimes, sitting at work, I wonder. What if…?

Wouldn’t being friends first be a solid base for something real? That’s what people with healthy long-term relationships often say. Ignoring the chaos of his fame, he’d make a good boyfriend, right? A caring one. He can be charming…

And then I wonder what he’s like in bed and I blush so hard my co-worker asks if I’m okay. Honestly, I’m not sure.

That night, my head and heart and body form an alliance against me and I dream about him.

We are on his couch. My safe space. Comfortable, familiar. We’re having tea - ridiculous, because I never drink tea, only he does. Probably just my brain trying to keep it as wholesome as possible before everything tilts. Good dramatic effect, I have to admit.

Because suddenly I’m pulling his arm, dragging him down with me until we sink into the cushions like it is quicksand. Physically impossible, but in dreams, anything goes. He looks startled at first, then his face softens and suddenly we’re tangled, half on top of each other. Somehow I’m on his lap. Somehow, my hands are in his hair, tugging lightly and he closes his eyes like he’s savoring it.

His mouth twitches and I want to kiss it so badly, but the dream won’t let me. It’s like there’s a string pulling me close, but never close enough. I whimper in frustration and the sound makes his eyes snap open. What I see there wrecks me - frustration, yes, but also longing. Lust. I want him even more.

And then his hands are on me. Sliding up my sides, slipping lower, tracing my waist like he owns it. Unfair. He can touch me, but I can’t kiss him? His body is solid beneath mine, his cock hard against me, my own body aching wet for him. Please, just…

A noise cuts through. We both look up. 

My mom is standing beside the couch. 

His too, actually. Both unimpressed.

“So… just so you know… he actually isn’t Nobody’s Son. He is mine.”

Oh god, there is nothing as scary as pissed momma Kwon.

And then I wake up.

I try to compartmentalize the whole following day. File it under random dream nonsense. Doesn’t work.

Because I get more the next night…

One moment I’m falling asleep, the next I’m watching him across a golden-tinted room that feels surreal. Makes sense, it’s a dream after all. He’s leaning back in a chair that looks more like a throne, one hand curled over the backrest, legs spread in that careless sprawl he does when he forgets anyone is watching. Except that he knows my eyes are on him. His grin is sly, slow, the kind you want to slap off - or kiss until you can’t breathe.

This dream is nothing like the other. The other one at least started cozy. This is… fae-smut-romance territory. Because somehow… he has a crown and wings and I should stop reading that shit, clearly.

He stands and even that is unfairly elegant. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, the sharp line of his ass in black tight leather pants. 

My throat goes dry. His grin sharpens into something dangerous. Half-promise, half-threat.

He doesn’t need to move closer, but of course he does. Each step is deliberate. Eyes locked on mine.

Then his hands are on me again - slim fingers skating over my sides, dragging across my ribs before sliding higher to cup my breast. Uhm, why am I naked? Unfair.

His thumb brushes my nipple and I gasp, embarrassingly needy. He laughs, low and delighted, then bends his head, lips pressing to my collarbone, tongue circling lower, slower.

I arch into him, already aching. His mouth lingers over the swell of my breast, teeth grazing, lips closing around my nipple until I moan. He knows. Of course, he knows. His palm drags lower, resting just above where I need him. Cruel. He kisses down over my ribs, my stomach, pausing to breathe hot against my skin until I clench around nothing while he kneels in front of me.

“Please” I whisper, though I don’t remember deciding to speak.

Instead of giving me what I want, he kisses the inside of my thigh. Wet, open-mouthed kisses that get closer, then retreat. His hand spreads my legs wider, thumb pressing just beside where I throb. He’s too good at this, every second orchestrated to make me ache harder.

I want his tongue, his fingers, his filthy voice. I can almost feel it, but the dream refuses. He stays maddeningly slow, teasing bites on my inner thigh.

I can’t take it. I push my hips up, chasing his mouth, but he only chuckles. Shakes his head. His tongue flicks once, fast, infuriating. I let out a sound that’s more growl than moan, but he just smiles, elegant and smug, as if he knows exactly how undone I am. 

And then I wake. Sheets twisted around me, skin damp with sweat.

It feels like his mouth is still on me, his laugh still low in my ear. I don’t even think before my hand slides under the sheets, slipping between my thighs.

I’m soaked. My fingers glide over my clit too easily and I moan into the pillow, embarrassed even though I’m alone. My body doesn’t care. It rocks into my touch like it’s his, like he’s finally giving me what I begged for.

When the orgasm crashes through me, I’m left panting, heart racing, the dream dissolving, but his face still sharp in my mind. 

That grin. That deliberate teasing. I press my palm to my face, half-laughing, half-mortified.

What the hell was that?

Except I know exactly what it was. I just got myself off thinking about my best friend.

--------------

So, there we are.

I kind of hate myself after I start wondering if I only like him because he suddenly gave me attention. Or maybe not so suddenly. I don’t know. Either way, it’s not a good reason to want someone, right?

But the next time we’re at a bar with friends, about three weeks after the incident, I look across the table at Ji and wonder how I didn’t see him before. Just like he said.

If I think about it… all those things he says I’m into - “pretty face, smooth lines, a little mystery” - he’s all of that. And I know he isn’t some innocent little angel; he messed up in the past. Sometimes badly, however, he left that behind him in recent years. But at the same time, he’s the guy who loves nothing more in the world than his cats and his parents and his friends. The one with a collection of cuddly blankets on the couch, who’ll watch a drama with you if you ask nicely, who remembers random details from things you told him ages ago and organizes amazing cakes and flowers for my birthday and…

…fuck.

Turns out Kwon Jiyong is fucking dreamy.

I realise it in the middle of this lively crowd. From one moment to the next, I know this isn’t a fluke.

I’ve loved him for the longest time.

But maybe I also… like… love love him.

Because right now I want to circle his name with a heart, just because he’s leaning over a napkin, sketching something no one else can see. Tongue sticking out a little as he concentrates. Around him, it’s drunk people, loud music, a whole dinner table. But he’s off in his own world. Only to snap out seconds later and rejoin the circle he built around us over the years, laughing, telling stories, cheeks flushed from the drinks and totally present. I love both those sides of him.

I don’t think he notices my stare, but then his head turns and his eyes find mine nevertheless. He looks surprised, like this is something he always does, but usually I’m not there glaring back. 

I almost look away. But I don’t. We just keep staring and I can’t help but smile. He smiles too. My eyes flick toward the hallway and then I get up.

Waiting there, I start to get nervous. Maybe he didn’t understand. But then he appears, confusion written all over his face.

“You good?” he asks.

His cheeks are red, his eyes spacy. He’s drunk and so am I. Not the only reason this isn’t a good idea.

I nod. Don’t speak at first, just stare until he slows down, frowning a little.

“What?”

“Can I try something?”

He shrugs, then nods hesitantly.

And then I just kiss him.

Let me say this again. Not a good idea.

Maybe realising I like someone like him is, but throwing caution to the wind and just trying something with your best friend? Really not a good idea.

But it doesn’t matter. No, screw that. It’s a great idea.

He tastes of soju and cigarettes. It doesn’t sound romantic, but in the moment, it’s perfect. Even before he reacts, his lips feel right on mine. I kiss into him, press him back against the wall. Ji freezes for a second, then jolts into action.

His arms wrap around me, not my waist exactly, more like a hug over my back. It feels like he’s holding on now that I’ve finally made it into his arms. And when he kisses me back - firm and determined and perfect - I lose my mind. Forget where I am. Forget who I am.

We stumble sideways into the wall, one of his palms now warm against my cheek, stroking my hair. His tongue gentle against mine.

It’s so good, it feels like I’ve been playing kissing on an easy level my whole level and now finally get to advance.

“How long…” he finally gets out between kisses “do you need to try before you have a verdict?”

I shut his mouth with mine and he chuckles into my lips.

I don’t know… Except for maybe that I don’t want to stop. 

We move further away from the light, deeper into the hallway and eventually he does halt us. His hand on my back steadies me, the other one gently pushes me away. I growl. But try to stand on my feet without needing his support, looking up at him a little pouty. A little embarrassed, a little upset, a little horny.

“Not like this…” he finally gets out and there are so many things visible in his eyes that I get overwhelmed as well. Hunger, but also a little sadness. 

“Like what?” I ask, breathless. My hands reach for him, wanting him back close.

“Like a drunk mistake.”

That halts me. Well, nah, don’t call me a mistake… 

I guess he didn’t; he did the opposite. He sees me pouting more and I can tell he is having a hard time resisting not at least hugging me. Instead, he moves a hand across my hair, putting a couple of strands where they belong. 

I let my shoulders slump. 

Jiyong leans in, whispers an almost apologetic, somewhat soothing. “I’m gonna head home…” into my ear. 

But instead of acknowledging that he is being good, I hold onto his shirt for a second. “Can I come?”

“Oh my god, you are the devil.” he says, laughing, creating distance between us again, but at the same time clearly enjoying that I am being that needy. “No, you can’t. But you can call me tomorrow when you are sober again, alright? No matter what the verdict of the trial was.” 

He lets go and smiles and disappears. And I stand there for a second, then I go back to the table and decide to get absolutely shitfaced. 

----------------------

The hangover the next morning feels like a movie one. I wake up disoriented with a headache from hell. Cry a little, moan a little, only leave the bed because I have to pee and drink at least two bottles of water. Feeling strangely accomplished because I even manage to brush my teeth and stand under the shower long enough to call it a shower, though just barely.

That is when I remember. The headache eases for a second, leaving room for the flash of Jiyong. Close and far away at the same time. At first, I thought it was another dream, but it wasn’t. That happened.

My heart rate spikes, my headache slams back into me and I crawl into my bathrobe, then into bed.

With every pounding throb behind my eyes, I squeeze them shut tighter. Oh god. What did I do? Regret floods me, but not entirely. The memory is too good. Still, I’m terrified. At some point, I remember him telling me to reach out, but I can’t bring myself to. It takes an eternity to grab my phone, battery almost dead, screen lit up with notifications.

No texts from him though. No calls. :///

Maybe he’s waiting for me to wake up. Maybe he wants to give me time to recover. Maybe… he changed his mind, maybe…

The doorbell rings. I think I might faint from how badly my head protests. Moving slowly, I shuffle to the door and then freeze, because it’s him.

I sigh, let him in and try to steady myself against the wall. When Jiyong steps into the frame, my heart does something weird, slowing and quickening at the same time. He just stares at me.

“Hey… I just wanted to see if you are… lucid?”

“Barely.” I groan, watching him close the door behind him. “I think I drank a lot after you left.”

“Yeah, you did.”

His hair is a mess, sticking out in all directions, clearly he is not what I would consider well rested and I can’t help but stare at him.

“How would you know?”

“The voice messages you left me were really hard to understand.”

“I did… no…”

Tears threaten immediately. Why do I always overdo everything?

“Did I really?”

He smiles, shoulders sinking deeper into his jacket as his hands slide into the pockets. “Nah, just kidding.”

“What? Don’t mess with me like that…”

“It was just the one.”

That’s all it takes. A couple of seconds later, I’m crying. My headache rages.

“Oh, hey, no…” he says, half laughing, half concerned and moves toward me, wrapping his arms around me. “I didn’t mean to… It’s fine. Don’t cry over this, okay? You were being kinda cute, actually. It was just obvious you had a bit too much, so I figured I’d check on you.”

I sink into him right away, hiding my face against his jacket. The light still hurts my eyes, but in his arms, I feel a bit better. 

He smells good. He feels even better. Warm and real and steady.

“That bad?” His voice is right by my ear as he strokes my head.

I nod and sob a bit more. “Was I actually cute in the message?”

“Super cute.” His grin is audible.

“Did I tell you any secrets?”

He chuckles. “You want to listen to it?”

“Absolutely not. Just tell me what I said.”

“That you were walking home. That you really want to visit Spain at some point next year. And that I’m a very good kisser.”

Embarrassing, but not as bad as it could have been. I could have mentioned how dreamy he is. Or worse, the dreams. If I did, he’s keeping it to himself.

“Let’s get some hangover cure into you, hm?” he says eventually, swaying me gently. I nod.

A few minutes later, I’m back in bed, painkillers and herbal medicine downed. Ji stands over me like he pities me and I find myself enjoying the attention if I'm honest. I open my arms lazily, an unspoken plea for cuddles. He looks relieved, slides in beside me and holds my hand. Strokes my hair.

“You know…” I mutter after I have hidden my face a little. “You really are a good kisser.” It comes out soft, uncertain.

Ji grins. “I know.” The grin isn’t wicked, just full of quiet happiness. If I had the strength, I’d make sure he understood I wasn’t just drunk last night, but my thoughts move too slowly. For now, this is enough. 

This and clinging to him. My hands bunching his shirt, my face buried in the crook of his neck. I’ve known him long enough, seen him with women. He loves that shit; he is a cuddler. Love boy.

And the best part is… so am I. Maybe it really should have been obvious all along. Maybe I’ve been blind.

“Go back to sleep, okay?” he says gently. I want to protest, but don’t. I doze off instead, drifting in and out. Whenever I jolt awake, he’s still there, smiling at me, one hand resting on me while the other scrolls his phone. He soothes me back to sleep every time.

When I wake up properly, it’s almost evening. My headache has calmed down. At some point, he must have pulled a blanket over us both.

“Feeling a bit better?” Ji asks and I pause as if checking. Then I nod. I do. Still tired, but not in pain. The painkillers must have helped but so did having him here. I just know it. And I’m not ready to let go, leaning into his side until he turns to face me, no longer on his back but on his side as well.

As cheesy as it sounds, looking at him now feels different. Things I always knew about him suddenly stand out sharper, brighter. He is so fucking beautiful.

My hand drifts up his chest without thinking, resting against his cheek. Stubble rough under my fingertips, skin warm, the faint smell of his cologne tangled with my detergent in the sheets. It’s good. Too good.

“Do you need to try something again?” he asks, smiling gently, his thumb stroking my arm. I nod.

Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in and press my lips to his. A peck, soft and careful, like testing the weight of something precious. He freezes, almost forgets to breathe, so I do it again - this time with the tiniest smile tugging at my mouth. It’s nothing like the messy, drunken kiss at the bar. This one feels deliberate. Sober. A choice.

He exhales slowly, eyes lingering on mine as if he needs a second to come back to himself. Then he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and lets out a quiet laugh, almost to himself. He shifts upright. “You should sleep more. And I should head home.”

He’s probably right. I can tell he doesn’t want to leave and I don’t want him to. But it’s better that way and I do need the rest. Only…

“Without… without kissing me back?”

It comes out more desperate than I meant, but once the thought slips out, I can’t take it back.

His brow arches, amused. “What?”

“You… you’ve never…” I trail off, suddenly too awkward to finish. I pull the blanket higher, hiding in it, which is ridiculous because normally I never shut up. But right now, everything is too much.

A few seconds pass. Then he tugs gently at the blanket until I let go.

His grin could kill me. “Sorry, you’re right. I can’t go without kissing you back.” He cups my cheek and leans down, finally doing it.

Soft and careful, but insistent. He doesn’t stop, not until the moment stretches into forever. When he finally lets go, he sighs against my mouth. 

“There’s food in the fridge. Eat later, okay?”

I mumble something that might be a yes, still lost in the kiss. I want to pull him back, make him stay, but my arms are heavy and he’s already done so much. He leaves and I don’t stay awake for long. Just long enough to realise that if this is a bad idea, it’s already too late. And somehow I don’t think it is.

----------

A couple of days later - ugh, busy guy, always busy - I’m standing in the elevator up to his place. Waiting to see him again has driven me half-crazy. Sure, we texted and it was… cute. But not enough. I may not have waited as long as he has, but he’s clearly better at it than I am. Because when he opens the door, my coat is already undone and underneath I’m wearing nothing but a black underwear set.

Ji was about to pull me into a hug, but then stops. Then he bursts out laughing. Hard.

My brows knit immediately, because hello, this is supposed to be curves-curves-curves, not comedy hour. I push inside quickly, the door shutting behind me. 

He’s still laughing, hand over his face.

“What the hell - you can’t - stop, you -” He can’t even finish through his laughter. My ego stings, so I toss my purse down, kick my shoes off and stalk past him.

“No, oh god, noooo. You look amazing.” he gets out between laughs, following me. He tries to slide an arm around me. I resist, then give in with a pout. 

“It’s just… you surprised me, okay? I need a second to catch up. Oh my fucking god, you look so good. I can’t believe I—”

His eyes roam down my body and at least that soothes the sting. “

“Missed me THAT much?” he finally teases, cocky as ever.

I did miss him that much. But I wanted him flustered, not smug. Then again, this is Jiyong. Of course, he’s teasing. 

Doesn’t mean he won’t crack eventually. He can do both. He is both.

“And here I thought we needed to have a serious talk.” he says.

“We can talk instead, if that’s what you prefer.” I shoot back, shrugging.

His grin only widens. He closes the distance, fingers gliding across my hips, pulling me in. Goosebumps rise instantly. His hands shake though and that makes my pout soften.

“If it helps…” he murmurs “I missed YOU a lot.” Then he kisses me like he means it. No hesitation, no awkwardness - like this is what we should’ve been doing all along. My arms wind around his neck and for the first time, it feels less like crossing a line and more like finally stepping onto the right side of it. 

I drop the coat and go full drama. He stumbles a little, wordless, like he’s trying to put thoughts into sentences and they keep slipping away. I grin because I can see him unravel.

“Well, shit” he finally murmurs, looking up at my face. “Fucking finally.” He kisses me hard, then pulls back to grin. “Have you met my bed? You should. You two would get along.”

I laugh and let him herd me toward his bedroom. By the time we reach the bed, it’s chaos. Hands everywhere, his clothes half-removed, his laughter hot against my neck. The mattress swallows me and he’s on top of me. It’s not careful, not sweet. It’s everything that’s been waiting. He takes my lower lip between his teeth, groans when I arch up and grind. I can feel how much he wants this and it makes my head spin.

His hand slips between my legs and for a second, I can’t believe it’s real. It is real. It feels impossibly good. And the smug grin reappears when he realizes how damp my panties got simply from the thought of all this happening. Hands fumble my bra open, the little dimple appears when he smiles in the corner of his mouth because he has an idea… and then he pushes me onto my stomach, palm pressing into the small of my back. The change in position makes me gasp. I glance at the white sheets in front of me, wide-eyed and surprised, his fingers back between my legs, rubbing me until thighs shake.

His lips are at my ear. “I know you. I know how you like it.”

My eyes go even wider. Oh, good god. He does.

We’ve teased, we’ve joked, we’ve overheard each other’s stupid secrets for years. He knows the corners of me. He knows the way to make me melt and apparently even my favourite position. He moves my arms to lie beside my head, firm but careful, like he’s settling me in. Then he pulls my panties down, slides between my legs and I feel his cock press against my thighs.

“Shit, Ji… I…” The words fall out of me, jagged and useless.

“If you don’t want it, say it. That’s fine.” he murmurs, one hand gliding between the sheets and my stomach, then up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple. His touch is patient for a beat, then intent.

“No. I want it. I want it so bad.” I try to tilt my pelvis and meet him, but he pushes me back down with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. He reaches for the bedside table and its contents.

When he pushes in, it’s deep, right away, an angle that steals my breath and punches the world to white noise but slow at the same time. My cheek presses into the sheets. I clamp one hand around a pillow as he finds a slow, hungry rhythm. God. He was right. I do love this. The angle, his weight, the fact that it’s him - it scrambles me.

Each thrust drags over every place that makes me clench. His hand fists at my hip, the other slides up my spine in lazy, claiming strokes. He leans close enough that his breath hitches across the back of my neck. “Good?”

I answer him with a sound, a needy, raw moan. My hips tilt back without thinking, chasing him. He groans louder and drives harder until the bed creaks. The friction builds until I’m tight and trembling and soaked.

Then I turn my weapon on him. I know him as well. I know what makes him lose it. He is into good old fashioned blowjobs. And maybe a bit of risky semi-public hand stuff. But he fucking loves a dirty mouth.

“You’re so good at this.” I gasp, breath shaking. “You’re fucking me so well.”

He stutters, hips stalling for the briefest second. “Don’t-” he breathes.

I keep going, breathy and taunting. “God, you knew exactly how badly I needed it, right?”

He growls now, the sound equal parts laughter and hunger. “You little shit.” he says, realising what I am doing, then thrusts harder.

I smirk into the sheets. “What’s wrong, can’t take a little praise?” The last word ends in a moan because he is so deep inside of me and one of his hands grasps my wrist.

“Fuck you” he mutters, laughing now, though he doesn’t stop moving. “You are” I shoot back, breathless and grinning, turning my head as far back as I can.

And that’s it - we both crack. Actual laughter, bubbling up between us, ridiculous and hot and so us. He’s still inside me, still moving, but the giggles shake through our bodies until finally he stills, forehead pressed to my back as he catches his breath. Why are we doing this? Just because we know each other so well doesn’t mean we HAVE to skip that slow close first time?

“I want to see you.” I manage, voice thick. I turn my head and he slides out, then rolls me over, easing me onto my back with the kind of slow care that makes my knees weak. He moves above me, hair falling into his face, eyes dark and searching. “Better?” he asks with that crooked grin, one hand on each side of my head. I nod and gently touch his face. He leans into the touch for a second.

So much better. Ji kisses me, mouth urgent and soft at once. When he pushes in this time, it’s even slower, more deliberate, a rhythm that makes everything feel like it’s aligning. Our mouths find one another between thrusts, messy and hungry. His hands cup my face, my nails drag his back until he groans. He traces lazy circles with his tongue across my chest and every noise I make summons a low groan from him.

It’s imperfect at times. Knees bump. We laugh into moans. His hair tickles my neck. It’s messy. It’s real. It’s gorgeous. 

When I come undone, it is less fireworks and more of a long, building wave. It hangs between us, warm and endless and somehow more satisfying because it is not sharp and quick. I shake beneath him. He collapses over me, breath hot against my collarbone, kissing the hollow under my ear.

My eyes open. He’s looking at me with that soft intensity that makes me feel cradled. Ji presses a thumb against my temple, tracing slow, lazy lines. I have never felt so seen. I think he loves me.

Panic bubbles up in me, old habits twitching, doubts spitting their rehearsed lines. What if this burns out? What if he leaves? My chest tightens.

He reads it in my face, then shifts, easing out and pulls me into a sideways hug. “Don’t… don’t get over me now that you have me, okay?” The words come without plan. I wasn’t even aware of that fear myself, but now that I can see how fucking happy I could be with him, the thought of losing that again is terrifying. Not sure if this is the moment I would like to do this… I wanted to bask in afterglow… Jiyong looks surprised, his eyebrows move around in all sorts of emotions. “Are you really worried about that?” I shrug a little and then nod. Because… yo, even I think I am annoying. Fun as well. Even funny sometimes. But fucking annoying!

“I can’t… I can’t be too much this time. Not with you.” I murmur, scenes flooding my brain of exes telling me different versions of the same story, so I close my eyes again. Ji looks at me for a second. Then he uses his arms to push up, detangling our bodies. Only to then lean farer over me so I have to look at him.

“Okay. I need you to really hear this, yeah? You are… dramatic as fuck. You are so loud and… sometimes crazy annoying, I am not gonna lie.” I pout. Great. “But that is my favourite thing about you. And you are my favourite person. So basically it is what I like best ever… ever ever.” My face is hesitant, so he keeps going. “You’re a fucking weirdo. Why do you always have to drink so much when you know you can’t handle it. And why… why have you kept on dating these idiots? Why the hell did you buy that vacuum cleaner? Like… I am serious. That was so weird. None of that makes sense, but I love it… You have… passion for everything you do and I could never ever think you are too much. You showed up in underwear and a coat? That was so cool and random? And we just had like… fantastic sex, but also laughed during that? I… love… everything about you…” His face is so close to mine, Ji is pressing his lips gently against the corner of my mouth. “I have loved everything about you for years, so please don’t ever be scared of that. Not with me. You were looking for the one? The person who will be the last? Fucking hell, let it be me…”

My mouth twitches. I want to believe him with my whole body. The old scripts about being left whisper like ghosts. I push them down because he would not say this if he did not mean it. I know his coffee order, his kinks, his offbeat habits. And that he would not lie about this.

“Okay” I manage at last, a small sound that feels huge.

He laughs, delighted. “Okay? That’s it? I finally made you speechless?”

I nod and trace his cheek with my finger. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

He squeezes me close. “It’s fine. You’ll be in love with me in no time, I am just giving you time to catch up.” He winks, cockily sure, moving in for another kiss.

Maybe he’s joking to lighten the mood. But I think I won’t need very long.

Actually… I am probably already there.

<3

------------------

Weeeeee, how are we feeling?

You on one hand was completely devoured by sleep, face relaxed, some stray hair slightly covering your face.

Jiyong was adorned by his want to stay in bed with you all day, eyes closing shut again as he gained more consciousness.

He leant over sleepily, burying his face in your hair, nose burying in the soft silky strands.

Jiyong peppered small, tired kisses to the crown of your head, the sheets barely covering him, but they were completely devouring you.

You didn’t shift. You remained asleep, not even a twitch coming from you. He had the faintest grin on his face as he watched you rest, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist.

Your breathing was completely evened out, and your silk pyjamas that Jiyong got you not too long ago, were a bit scrunched up on your body from over the night.

The light in the room was dimmed by the curtains, thankfully cause Jiyong didn’t think he could survive the brightness of the outside world right now.

This was the moments he secretly loved the most. His thumb tracing small patterns over your waist instinctively, sleepily drowning in the cushions, your warmth and your hair sprawled out softly.

He loved waking up next to you. In your most vulnerable, natural state, even though ninety nine percent of the time he woke up before you.

And be cherished the way you always managed to keep curled up to him in some way despite you both moving a lot in the night.

Whether it was your hand intertwined up loosely in his own. Or your face buried on his stomach, halfway down the bed somehow.

Soft paws treaded into the room like they paid rent, and in came Zoa, already hungry for food.

Jiyong smiled at the sight of his other girl who’s spaced out eyes glared at him. He wasn’t sure whether she wanted food or for him to get away, considering the fact she had already made herself comfy on your chest, tiny paws in front of her.

You won over her and Iye the moment that you walked into their life. Jiyong earned you that they weren’t the most affectionate with people there ere unfamiliar with.

He looked like a big fat liar when not even thirty minutes later of you being at his place for the first time, Iye was curled in the curve of your neck on the pillow, and Zoa was buried into your side on her back.

Jiyong scratched behind the cats ear affectionately, before dropping his hand discarded over your stomach.

When Zoa forced her head under your chin your stirred slightly, half waking up with a small groan of tiredness.

Jiyong laughed under his breath as Iye came marching in not a moment later, looking like she was already demanding food and worship.

You half opened your eyes as Jiyong kissed your temple to wake you up properly. It barely worked.

Zoa and Iye made themself at home between and on the both of you, as you turned your head slightly to face Ji who was already looking at you gently, hand stroking Iye.

He moved slightly, readjusting himself so his arm went around you, bringing you to his chest, the four of you making a little huddle in the left side of the bed.

Jiyongs side of the bed that was always infiltrated by the other three of you. And he would pretend to care.

“Good morning” he drawled out, voice barely above a whisper, his deep morning voice jolting you more awake.

You smiled faintly, closing your eyes again, cheek buried into his shirt, your nose by Iye’s paw.

He didn’t need a reply. Not that you were gonna give him one with the way your eyelids fluttered shoot once more, ghost of a smile on your lips, not even bothering to brush the hair out your face.

But he did that for you anyway. Unspoken, just a small attention to detail he knew you hated.

“Do you wanna eat?” He asked you quietly, soft, minute stubble brushing the crown of your head prettily.

You waited a beat, pouted your lips slightly in consideration before turning your head up to him, seeing the way he always looked in a morning. Natural, comforting.

“Not yet, I don’t wanna get up” Your voice was slightly raspy from sleep, something he loved to hear your tired voice just moments out of unconsciousness.

He grinned, brushing yet another stray hair from your face before playing with the strands again, scratching at your scalp lightly as if you were one of the cats that were falling asleep again on you with a light weight to them.

“You don’t have to get up jagi, I’ll do it” He assured, ever the gentleman. His eyes trailed over your soft, morning glistened features, the way your eyes looked heavy with tiredness.

You shook your head no, well as much a d you could in this position before finishing, “I mean I don’t want either of us to get out of bed yet”

Jiyong huffed a small laugh, kissing the tip of your nose with a genuine caring nature that you fell in love with.

“Okay baby” He drawled, hand that was previously playing with your messy bed hair now hovering loosely around your neck, fingertips on your collarbone, tracing small, comforting circles.

You nodded in approval to his words, before your own hand brushed a hair out of his face, “Your hair needs cutting” You commented lightly, an observation he knew you would always nag at him for.

But he also knew you loved every era of his hair. Every colour and cut made you smile when he would walk through the door them days.

“Good eye” He would playfully say, hint of a grin still present on his features. You smiled back at his words, before dropping your hand to his chest.

That’s how it was for at least thirty minutes. Savouring the moments before the day poured in, even though neither of you had plans today - for once.

Entangled in each other, the odd, small paw trampling on you both from over the sheets.

That was before Iye and Zoa practically demanded food, meowing on your laps, one after the other before the two of you and to force yourself to get up.

You stretched slightly as Jiyong sat up, picking up Zoa, beginning to wipe her eyes carefully.

A morning shower woke you up, and the sight of Jiyong showing up outside the bathroom door fifteen minutes later, peeking his head in with some comfy clothes and a cup of coffee for you. That melted your heart.

He took his own shower as you then made breakfast, both for you and Jiyong, and the four paws that clawed at your sweatpants greedily.

Once you two had ate, or more like Jiyong stealing half your breakfast, you found yourself in the bathroom again, Jiyong’s forehead pressed into your shoulder as you two brush your teeth.

He’s acting like he’s already drained from the bare minimum of waking up, by the way his hand is lazily around your waist, more grounding himself then you.

You did his skincare once you finished, which he seemed to enjoy awhile lot. What he wasn’t the biggest fan of however was the headband you forced on him, saying it would stop the products getting in his hair. It still got in his hair.

“Are you sure this is the right order jagi?” He slightly nervously spoke. After years of makeup stylists doing skin prep on him he knew a thing or two.

He even found himself doing your skincare on nights you would fall asleep on the couch after work.

“Yes Ji, I know what i’m doing” You reassured, mixing the product into his skin gently. When your hand ghosted near his lips he placed a small kiss to your palm before immediately grimacing.

“You’re so stupid” You giggle at the sight of him now tasting the product. Jiyong grinned weakly, wiping some of the product off his face and onto your nose.

You blinked up at him, and he hugged a small laugh wiping it off before you came back for revenge.

“I don’t wanna do anything today” He half whined, as if you were holding him against his will.

Smiling, you finished his skincare, taking the band off his head, to which his hair practically folded itself into place where the headband was.

“Trust me, I don’t wanna do anything either, that’s why we’re staying here. But why is your hair so damaged?” You laughed.

He didn’t even glance at himself int he mirror, instead opting to drop his cheek onto the top of your head, arms limp at his side, “You know exactly why”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders loosely as he pulled back, arms going to your hips to pick you up and carry you back to the bed.

You giggled as he dropped you carefully on the bed, crawling over you just to tiredly flop himself on top of you. His eyes glistened as he looked up at you, his weight completely on you, and he didn’t care. He was comfortable.

“Comfy?” You ask rhetorically, to which he nodded against your chest, his hair tickling your chin.